The Very Thought of You (22 page)

Molly asked Nick, “Did they really need a permit?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“You told them they did.”

“It saved a lot of potential trouble. Good thing the real doofus isn't as stubborn as you.”

She let that pass but only because she admired the way Nick had dealt with the situation.

“Serk's a bully. When you show a bully you're not afraid of him, he backs down.”

“Well, that one certainly did.” She cast a glance at Serk. He leaned against the building and puffed on a cigarette, his sign propped beside him. He seemed to have lost most of his aggression.

“That was nice of you to allow the men to continue picketing the apartment house. You could have made a huge issue when you discovered they'd helped themselves to your wood.”

“Helped themselves? They stole it.”

“Well, whatever. Anyway, you defused the situation. You seem pretty good at that.”

His grin told her he was pleased with the way everything turned out. “Yeah, I've always had a knack for handling people.”

“So I see.”

He nodded and his grin widened. “Just so you know.”

“Should I consider that fair warning?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really? How do you plan to handle me?”

He touched the tip of her nose with his finger. “That's easy. Now that I know what you like.”

“Huh?” Damn, was that the best she could manage? Now she sounded like she'd just channeled Duncan Serk.

Molly spent the remainder of the morning trying not to imitate a narcolepsy victim. By ten o'clock, the burst of energy that had carried her through the earlier hours at the picket line had dissipated and left her limp and fatigued. A glance at her calendar reminded her she needed to work on the budget. She'd already ruined two spreadsheets and cursed at her computer. The source of the problem wasn't technical. It was her. Cynthia supplied seemingly endless mugs of hot, strong coffee, but even the caffeine rush hadn't jolted Molly into a livelier mood.

She made a concerted effort to focus on all things mathematical. Still, her thoughts wandered back to Nick and how he'd accused Duncan Serk of breaking the law and cowed the bully. As if she had a tiny video recorder lodged in her brain, she freeze-framed his face and got hot and mushy and all but melted into her office chair. Was that any way to plan a budget? Not with her recent numerical ineptitude.

Something else had wrapped itself around her mind: Nick's cryptic pronouncement of “Now I know what you like.” What did that mean? He'd discovered she enjoyed chocolate cookies, the Napa Valley, living in San Francisco, and — who would have guessed —
getting down and dirty
along with a whole lot of other things that were basically inconsequential. On the important side, he'd found out what made her squirm and moan and come close to having an orgasm without actually
doing
it. The past two nights she relived
that
exact moment. Would it happen again in real time? She wanted it to but, in a burst of self-preservation, she kicked it to the bottom of her wish list. Either that or turn herself into a fire eater because what she'd played with in Napa had the explosive power of a neutron bomb.

A light drizzle gave some much needed sparkle to the otherwise dingy sidewalk. Once inside her car, Molly got the motor started and the windshield wipers in motion. Then, without conscious thought, she whipped a U-turn, which pointed her in the opposite direction of her usual route home. She slowed the car and waited for her brain to figure out what was up. Uh-oh. She was headed straight toward Nick's construction site. Hmm. Now what would Dominique make of that? Probably the desire to be in proximity to Nick, or at least his workplace. Had it lurked all day in Molly's subconscious? Was that why she acted on it? That was crazy. Then again, so was everything that happened to her in the past week and a half. She hoped it didn't mean her head lost the battle with her heart. Wouldn't that be great? She could forever cruise the streets where Nick slapped up condos or whatever else he intended to build.

She was almost halfway there, so she decided to continue. Once she passed the corner of the site, she'd angle up to Market and then hook onto Castro. Probably more traffic that way, but she didn't feel like making another U-turn. Cars parked on both sides narrowed the street, and dusk edged closer to darkness. Also, the drizzle turned into rain.

She eased up on the gas as she approached the construction site. Alongside it, light spilled from the rain-streaked windows that fronted Mrs. Z's apartment. Most of the other units appeared dark. Molly slowed then stopped when she came abreast of Nick's temporary office. It showed no signs of life. She pushed on the accelerator but had only advanced a few feet when she spotted his car parked across from the site. He was possibly — no
probably
— inside the apartment building. Mrs. Z hadn't mentioned another association meeting. Still, he could be negotiating with his tenants. Then, again, he could be passing out eviction notices.

Molly waited for a break in traffic then whipped a U-turn at the corner and pulled in behind Nick's hybrid. Just as she killed her lights, did she see a vague outline of a person in the rear seat, leaning back against the curbside door? She edged forward against the steering wheel and squinted. On a clearer night, the streetlamp would have given more illumination. Tonight, mist and fog shrouded its glow. Her windows began to steam and she rubbed at the windshield.

Rain streaked his back window. Still, she was now certain someone hunkered down inside his car. Whoever it was glanced toward hers, waited a few moments, then turned back toward the building site. Nick? Why would he sit out here in the dark? Or it could be a homeless person. Once she'd forgotten to lock one of her doors and found an inebriated man sprawled across her backseat. It had taken her and Dr. Jake close to a half hour to coax him out.

Common sense told her to head straight home. But when, lately, had she used common sense?

She shut down the motor, palmed her keys, and climbed out of the car. She checked the street for traffic then dashed around the front of the vehicle to his curbside window. She bent down and peered through the steamy, moisture-streaked glass to the back of a man's head and compiled an inventory: dark hair stylishly cut, shoulders that only the gods could have chiseled, and a lower arm resting on the front seat back and advertising muscles upon muscles. It was Nick. Should she check to see if he was okay? She tapped on the glass.

The window rolled down a few inches.

“Molly?” He pushed open the door. “What the hell?” He reached out and grabbed her arm. “Get in here.” He moved across to the middle of the seat and pulled her in beside him. He closed the door and slid the window up before any more rain slanted in.

The cool air inside his car, along with her damp blouse, chilled her. She pushed her keys into her pocket and crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed her shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” He brushed a damp, springy curl off her forehead. “Your hair is wet.”

“I was on my way home.” She blotted some of the moisture off her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“Shouldn't you have been heading north? You're going in the opposite direction.”

Yes, but I was obeying this crazy impulse …

“I got turned around in the rain.” At least it sounded plausible.

“I'm glad.” His smile lifted the night gloom. “I'm sorry you got wet on my account.”

“I spotted your car and wondered if maybe you were inside the apartment building.”

“Why would I be in there?”

“Uh … ” Should she ruin their cozy chat and confess her earlier suspicion he might have nudged his tenants toward a quick exit date? “I thought maybe you had … uh … reinforced the rules with Mr. Serk.”

“He left an hour ago.”

Steam smudged the windows. Sitting so close to Nick dissipated the coolness inside the car. They nestled in the quiet gloom, with their thighs and shoulders close enough to touch. A lick of heat burnt through Molly's clothes. Why did she have to feel so damn comfortable with him? So comfortable, she could have spent the rest of the night there and rubbed body parts with him while he waited for … what? Who?

“Are you expecting someone?” God, what if it was a date? But then, wouldn't he have stayed inside his trailer? Maybe not. A woman could hop from her car into his and not get too wet. Just like she had.

“You might say that.” He checked his watch, one with a large glow-in-the-dark face and a batch of dials. An awkward sensation settled in Molly's chest and sent her comfort zone into a downward spiral. After she barged in on him, she could wind up looking like a fool. Those nasty impulses were bound to cause her all kinds of trouble. “I'm keeping you from something.”
Someone?
“I guess I should head home.” She reached for the door handle.

“Don't leave yet.” He covered her hand with his. “Though, if I'm going to keep an eye out over there, we have to switch positions.”

Positions?
The last one with Nick had subsequently turned her brain to goo.

“The security I hired to keep tabs on the site after dark didn't work out. I've had to do my own surveillance off and on for the past week.”

“You're still having problems?”

“Yeah.”

Molly peered across Nick to the construction site. “Do you think it's Serk?”

“It's possible. But whoever it is can't delay the construction indefinitely. It'll take something really big to shut it down.”

“How big?”

“Like a major collapse or a fire gutting the place.”

“If Serk's responsible, shutting down your project almost guarantees he'll keep his apartment.”

“Not forever. I'd rebuild and post more security down here.”

Molly smiled. “I'll bet about … eighty thousand a unit could solve everyone's problems.” She gave a vigorous nod as if she expected him to jump at her proposal. “I wondered if maybe you were inside negotiating with them.”

“Eighty thou?” He laughed. “I love the way you squander money I don't have.”

“Well, admit it, it has almost as nice a ring as a hundred. I'll bet they'd come down off their original demand if you proposed eighty.”

He shook his head. “They and
you
have to show a lot more flexibility than that.”

“I think they could be flexible.”

“Serk, too?”

“Well, maybe not him. But he's only one vote.”

“How about you?” He fingered the collar of her blouse. The pulse at the base of her throat began to throb even though he hadn't made contact with her bare skin.

“Me?” She tried for a laugh but instead gave a good impression of a woman being strangled.

“Yeah, you.” He took his hand away and rested it on the seatback.

It took a few moments for her heart rate to settle down. “Oh, no question.”

“Okay, then. How does forty sound?”

“Forty?”

“Tell them I'm willing to go that high.”

Molly frowned. “Haven't we been through this before? You can tell them. If you think that's a way to get your project built … ”

“The project will happen, Molly. Believe it.”

Oh, she did. Like she believed the heat that spread along her thigh had everything to do with its proximity to his.

“I'll be as fair as possible.” He glanced across the street. “If I'm going to catch someone monkeying around in there tonight, I have to face the other direction.”

“I'm in the way. Maybe I should go.” The “maybe,” spoken halfheartedly, said she didn't want to leave and hoped he didn't want her to.

“No, don't go. At least not yet. We just have to change positions.”

She couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten so close and chummy in the backseat of a car. In spite of the rain, warmth and contentment spread through her body. Because of Nick. She gave a quiet, blissful sigh.

“Molly?”

“Yes?”

“Are we going to flip-flop, or what?”

She gave her head a mental shake. “Sorry.”

“Okay, then. Are you ready?”

Rain, heavier than before, pelted the car roof.

“You'll get wet out there when you come around to this side.”

“Who's talking about leaving the car?” He put one arm around her back and his free hand on her hip. “Here, climb over me.” He opened his legs.

Molly's eyes glommed onto his crotch as if he had a brand new car registration with her name on it stashed in there.

“Climb … ?”

“Put your left knee between my legs.” He started to lift her up out of the seat.

He wore tight jeans, and even in the semi-gloom, she made out a telltale bulge. He was either the most trusting man in the world or he'd performed this maneuver many times.

“Just stay between my knees, sweetie, and you'll do fine.”

Molly put her hands on his shoulders. Then, as he guided her, she lifted her rear end up off the seat and placed her left knee where it belonged. Her skirt rode up a few inches as he brought her around to face him. Her lips hovered inches from his. Any closer and her ability to function would drop to something akin to a blow-up doll. His breath warmed her cheek.

Her right knee followed her left and she straddled his leg. Poised above him, she forgot how simple it was to breathe, so she didn't. When he put his hand on the back of her leg, she figured she'd probably never draw a breath again.

However he managed it, he rolled her across his lap. Then he changed places with her. Once again, he leaned against the rear passenger door, with her now in the middle of the seat. He placed his left arm around her and slid her toward him. They pretty much occupied one space. Cozy. Molly had no complaints.