Some Like it Easy (5 page)

Anna chuckled. “Yes. It does take some getting used to. So, how are you?”

“I’m fine. Working on a project, going to class, and giving George a hand, like you asked.” In the brief call they’d shared the night of George’s arrival, Anna had asked Penny to be nice to him and help him adjust.

“How is he doing? I’ve been worried about him, as is Armand, but he needs to…”

“La la la la, not listening. He’s fine. I don’t want your details or opinions or what you two are hoping he accomplishes.”

The temperature in the studio remained high, but Penny couldn’t do anymore welding until her piece cooled from the last set of additions. Turning the phone to speaker, she started shutting down her equipment and stowing the torches for safety.

“I’m not going to give you state secrets or anything.” Apparently, being told no didn’t sit well with Anna.

“I don’t want you to give me any of his secrets.” Oddly, she didn’t. She liked gossip as much as the next person, but George had gone from mild nuisance to friendly neighbor slash potential friend in a short time. He might not have wanted to come to New York or to go to school, but he seemed to be making an effort. “Don’t call me for status updates beyond the occasional
he’s okay
or
fine
, and don’t tell me anything about him.” It seemed a fair request.

Silence met her statement. Then Anna said, “You
like
him.”

Oh, hell no.
“He’s a nice guy. Leave it alone. How are
you
? Any news you’d care to share?”

Another moment of silence before she said, “No, not yet. Soon. I promise.”

Penny fist pumped in private jubilation, but kept her voice calm. “All right. Well when you’re ready to share, I’d love to be the first phone call.”

“I promise.” Anna laughed. “I have to head into a meeting in a few minutes, but call me if you have any news?”

What news could she possibly have? “Sure. Why not. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” They disconnected and Penny stared at the phone. Anna would make a great mom. Poor kid, though. Armand was awesome, but the guy had control freak down to an art. “Here’s hoping you have boys, Anna. I feel for his daughter.”

Studio cleaned up and shut down, she stripped out of her work overalls, found her books, coat and purse and locked up before she headed home. The best part of her apartment, and the real reason she hadn’t moved the minute she’d found out about Armand’s high-handedness, was its location. Situated a block or two at the most away from everywhere—university, studio, coffee shop, and the artisan district—she could walk most places easily.

The sun set at some point while she’d worked and taken the temperature down with it. Wind howling around her, she kept her stride even as she headed home. In the pocket of her jacket was a spray can of mace and she carried a taser in her bag. One perk to having four older brothers—she was not afraid to walk alone.

No one bothered her because, like her, everyone was in a hurry to get in out of the weather. Winter in New York the last few years tested her mettle. Thankfully, she was used to harsh winters and plummeting temps. Still, her lungs burned from the cold by the time she let herself into the lobby of her building. Clapping her hands together and stomping her feet, she waited for the elevator.

Hot shower, hot food, and a warm bed were all on her schedule for the evening. The last thing she expected when the elevator doors dinged open on her floor was a moderate amount of chaos. Three of George’s guards were in the hallway and, while they dressed like students, none of them walked like them nor did they give a pretense of being anything but security.

Grady waved her through and she found the door to her apartment open. George was in the middle of her living room on his cell phone. “I’ll have someone bring her to the airport. Will the plane be able to land in the storm?” He went silent for a moment. “How long?”

Dropping her bag, Penny waited for the other shoe to drop. Had something happened to Anna in the short time since she’d hung up? George turned and faced her, his expression lightening at her arrival, but he pointed her toward the bedrooms.

“Hold on,” he said to whomever was on the phone. Cupping his hand over the bottom, he spoke to Penny. “Mallory needs you.”

Not wasting time to ask why, she hurried to Mal’s room and found her best friend on the edge of her bed, a phone in her hand and tears streaking down her face.

“What happened?”

Not Hank. Please, don’t be Hank.
Surely Anna would have said something.

Mal said in a shaky voice, “Mom had a heart attack.”

“Oh, honey.” Sitting next to her, she wrapped her arms around her and held her close. Mallory clung to her.

“She’s at the hospital. Dad’s with her. Ben’s flying home, and George is trying to get me a flight, too.”

“Are they in DC?” The plane conversation suddenly made sense. “Do you want me to come with you?” She’d blow off class for Mallory, no problem.

“No, they’re in Kansas, and Dad is trying to keep it quiet. They caught it in time, or at least it sounds like they did, but I still want to go…”

A quiet knock on the door had them both turning. George gave them a small smile of apology. “Grady will take you to the airport. Sebastian is sending the plane from Boston as soon as it is cleared. The pilot believes they won’t have trouble taking off or landing. They will take you directly to Kansas. Sebastian arranged a car to meet you, as well.”

“Thank you.” Mal gave him a watery smile. “Really, thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll give you your privacy.” He stepped out, but not before Penny saw sympathy in his eyes.

Turning back to Mallory, she caught her hand and held it. “I’ll call my parents. They can help.”

“Maybe I can stay with them?” She wouldn’t want to stay with her dad, especially without her mom there as a buffer, which Penny didn’t need her to explain to understand.

“I’m sure that will be fine. Really.” Rising, Penny fished her phone out of her pocket and dialed her mom. “Need me to help you pack?”

The shocky look on Mallory’s face didn’t pass, so Penny started moving. She packed layers, enough to give her at least four clean outfits, then went for the toiletries. Her mother answered on the second ring and Penny filled her in hurriedly. Ringing off, she glanced at Mal. “Mom said to call as soon as you’re there and they’ll meet you at the hospital, too. Dad can run interference with your dad.”

“Okay.” Still, Mallory didn’t move from her position. Penny got the bag sealed up, then sat with her until George appeared in the hall outside the bedroom to let them know the plane had taken off.

“I’m going with her to the airport,” she told George, but Mal shook her head.

“No, you have classes.”

“I don’t care about my classes,” Penny said. “You’re my best friend. I’m still tempted to get on that plane with you.”

“No.” Mallory shook her head again. “Really, I need to do this, and I’ll be okay.”

The urge to ignore her bloomed in her gut. If it were Penny’s mother…she’d probably make Mal stay, too. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Her shaky smile firmed briefly. “But I might call.”

“Whenever, whatever. I’ll come home if you need me there.”

Ten minutes later, Penny stared at the closed elevator with a pervasive sense of helplessness. Grady took Mallory and left the others of the goon squad behind with her and George. Though he hadn’t said much throughout the exchange, George’d quietly made things happen.

Back in her apartment, she sat on the sofa and tried to wrap her mind around what Mal had to be going through. None of it was pretty. She really shouldn’t be traveling. The sofa depressed next to her, and she found George watching her silently. “Thank you.”

The corners of his mouth tipped into a vague smile. “I only wish I could have done more.”

“You’re getting her home. That counts.” Falling back against the sofa, she ran a hand over her face. “And you were here for her. That really counts.”

“She was in the hall when she received the call. Grady alerted me.” Why he downplayed his contribution, she didn’t know. “Sebastian agreed the situation needed our assistance. All I did was make a couple of phone calls. I would have called you next, had you not walked in when you did.”

“It’s a lot, George.”
A whole lot.

He said nothing for a long moment. “Are you close with her family?”

“Yes, and no. We grew up together. I know the Congressman. David and his wife Ellen, Mal’s parents. Not
we spend holidays together
close, but I’ve been to their house lots of times. It’s just so weird. Ellen Ward is June Cleaver, calm and together. I can’t imagine her having a heart attack.” It made her soul hurt to think about it.
If it were my mom…
She couldn’t shake the dread or the sick relief of being grateful that it hadn’t been her own mother.

What the hell kind of friend did that make her?

“I’m worried about her. I really think I should have ignored what she said and gone.”

“I can have one of my men drive you. She’s not that far ahead.” The offer was generous, but Mal had said no and if Penny barged in…

“Thank you.” Still, she didn’t move from the sofa. “I want to go, but that’s for me. Mal said no, so maybe I should do what she wants.”

“Perhaps.”

Rolling her head to the side, she gave him a long look. “Not really helpful.”

George spread his hands. “I wish I could offer you more. I truly don’t know what to tell you to do. If it were my mother, I wouldn’t be thinking of anything but getting to her side.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Picking up her phone, she texted Mallory.
I’m here if you need me. Say the word and I’m on a plane.

Scant seconds later, Mallory replied.
Love you too. Stay. If anything changes, I will need you.

“Okay,” she told her phone. “I’ll stay. But staying requires alcohol…” Shoving up from the sofa, she glanced at him. “Are you staying, too?”

“For as long as you wish.”

A flutter tumbled through her belly at the comment. He’d been damn near heroic through all of it. “Feel like Chinese?”

Another slow, faint smile touched his mouth and the nerves in her stomach began a little tango. “Whatever you want.”

Their gazes locked and heat swept through her. Mixing adrenaline and alcohol was never a good thing. Nor was sleeping with her sister’s brother-in-law because he happened to be hot, scrumptious and present. “Liquor,” she said firmly. “Lots of liquor.” Time to break out the secret stash. She had a couple of nice bottles of wine from Anna’s last visit that she’d stored.

Fleeing the room, she called in the order for Chinese and tried to pretend she didn’t hear George talking to the men in the hall.

“We’re in for the night, gentlemen. You may lock it down.”

In for the night and all alone. Yeah, she definitely needed more alcohol.

T
hey were well
into the second bottle of wine when Penny’s phone buzzed. Mallory landed in Kansas, she would call when she could. Despite the copious amounts of alcohol they’d consumed along with noodles, eggrolls, and a split vegetable platter, Penny seemed almost sober.

“We can do nothing more until she asks us.” From the moment he’d seen Mallory’s pale face frozen in shock, he’d fought a distinct helplessness. Yes, he’d been able to call his brother and arrange a flight. George no longer had credit cards or a bank account worth speaking of, but he had family. It seemed paltry little to do for Penny’s best friend.

“I know.” Penny still stared at her phone. “I hate being a million miles away.”

“Only about a thousand,” he said. “Though I understand.”

A brief smile curved her mouth. “You’re a detail guy, aren’t you?”

Perplexed by the question, he set his wine glass on the table and began to tidy up the array of cartons from the meal. “No one ever accused me of that, no.” In the few short weeks since he’d moved in, he’d eaten at Penny’s apartment more often than in his own. Probably wise, since he had very little in the way of food in his apartment. One morning, Grady had visited to give him the general status report. After a single glance around the empty kitchen, he’d invited George back to his apartment for coffee.

He’d barely managed to make his money last the first week, spent it all by the fourth day. Penny and Mallory fed him frequently, a steady diet of takeout or whatever they threw together from leftovers. He’d managed his paltry income better in week two, but spent most of it on a few key clothing items. The speed at which he ran through his allowance astounded him.

On a sigh, Penny reached for a carton and he caught her wrist in a light grip. “No, you sit. I’ll clear this and pour you another glass, if you wish. Or I can bring you some water.”

Her skin was silky soft. He knew she worked with her hands, but her long, delicate fingers looked so tiny next to his. “You don’t have to do that.”

No, he didn’t. “I want to. You stay.” Maybe she didn’t realize how lost she’d looked when Mallory left, but he’d grown used to her vibrant, fierce personality. To see the hollowness in her eyes and the forlorn cast to her smile—had been a brutal reminder of reality. He’d felt the same way when his security team informed him of Sebastian’s injury. Later, when he’d read reports of Armand’s near miss…yes, he blamed himself and he’d been unable to do anything for his brothers.

He could do something for her. Giving her hand a squeeze, he scooped up the cartons.

“All right,” she said, with a hint of dry humor. “Maybe water would be a good idea, because your butt is starting to look biteable.”

He made it all the way to the kitchen before her words fully registered. Pausing at the door dividing the living room from their tiny dining area, he turned around to find her staring at him with too-wide eyes, her mouth agape.

“And, wow, no more wine for me.” Red flushed her cheeks, adding an air of innocence to her frankness.

“Just to clarify, is a biteable butt a good thing?”

“Oh my God.” Penny burst out laughing and covered her face with her hands as she collapsed back into the sofa.

From her response, he gathered it was, but he’d never seen her so off-center. It was delightful. Still chuckling, he disposed of the containers and returned for more. Penny kept her face covered the whole time, but he paused when she peeked at him.

“Is that a yes or a no?” Thankfully, years of diplomacy helped him maintain a straight face.

“Really? Just pile on the humiliation, your royal smart ass-ed-ness.” Her groan and wider smile made her words a lie. “For what it’s worth, it’s a damn good thing. For someone else.”

Not appreciating the caveat, he disposed of the last of the trash and stored two boxes of leftovers with the rest of her Styrofoam shrine in the fridge. He returned with two bottles of water and the rest of the wine. “Why for someone else?”

“Cause you’re George,” she said. “And I must be tired.” One moment embarrassed and the next she groaned again. “Crap. It’s Wednesday isn’t it?”

Having acclimated to her swift topic changes, he settled next to her once more. “Yes, it is. Why does it matter who I am?” She’d never shown even an ounce of interest in his title or position before. Why now?

“I have a paper due tomorrow.” She abandoned him and lurched across the room to find her backpack.

“Are you in any condition to worry about a paper?” Surely, she could simply skip the class or send the instructor an email.

Snorting, Penny shook her head and dragged her laptop and a book out of the bag. “Doesn’t matter what condition I’m in. If I don’t turn it in on time, the professor automatically subtracts ten points from my grade for every day it’s late. I need all the points I can get.” Settled again, she opened the laptop and booted it up. “I’m sure you have homework.”

He had to take a moment to even remember what class he had the following day. “I have no idea.”

Pausing, she glanced at him and frowned. “George, I get that you’re not into the whole university thing, but you’re not an idiot.”

Glad she’d noticed, he raised his eyebrows. Her statement sounded like an opening argument, not a finished thought.

“Why do you keep acting like one?”

From bitable butt to idiot in a few scants seconds—a new record, even for him. Relying on protocol, he schooled his features and retrieved his bottle of water. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, bullshit.” Penny scoffed and delivered the last syllable with a slap to his arm. “You drag on that arrogant air the minute anyone gets too close. You’re not stupid, you’re not even particularly uninteresting. You know more about film and television than the average guy. You’re well-read.” When he started with surprise at the last statement, she gave him a sly look. “Did you really think I didn’t hear you and Mallory arguing about Mr. Darcy last weekend? Or about the metamorphoses of the romantic hero over the last hundred years?”

Shifting his attention away from her, he made a pretense of glancing at the television screen.

She, however, was not done. “You also explained why the negotiations fell through on the Paris treaty when we were watching the news, identifying details the reporters glossed over.”

The press were not bad at their jobs, but speculation and innuendo increased ratings and, more often than not, the finer points of negotiation simply weren’t sexy. Still, his understanding did not make him remarkable. “One cannot grow up a victim of political despots without developing a keen insight into how business is done between parties in power.”

“Blah. Blah. Blah. That means you’re not stupid. So, you know how business is done. You know how two parties or people can reach an amicable conclusion to their issues.”

Apparently, she wasn’t letting it go. Sighing, he nodded. “I fail to see what one thing has to do with another.”

“You’re intelligent. You’re—okay, street smart isn’t the phrase, but you’re world savvy. You know how the big kids play the games and you could play them, too. So why do you pretend to be the idiot child? Blowing off classes and education like you’re some kind of party animal? Except for the Theta Gamma party we dragged you to last week, you haven’t been running around or making waves with the press. Even your bodyguards downplay who you are. They blend in so well.”

She’d paid very close attention to him over the last three weeks, more than he’d imagined. Biting down on her lower lip, she glanced at her computer and typed something. George had no response for her, however. He’d been raised in that world. Understanding and navigating were two entirely different matters. He would never lead his family; that position fell to Armand. He was not even the primary heir, as Sebastian occupied fulfilled the role. Once Armand and Anna had children, George’s usefulness would further diminish.

“I have no part to play,” he said, quiet and succinct. “I am the spare—the youngest, least useful member of my family. Eventually, I will be window dressing, mentionable only for my status as a bachelor, then forgotten.”

If not for the fact that she stared at him, her gape might have been amusing. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Since he verged too close to self-pity, George waved her off. “Ignore me. You said you had a paper to write.” He should let her do her homework, no matter how reluctant he was to return to his empty apartment. “I shall leave you to it.”

“Oh, no you won’t.” The words carried the whip crack of command. “Get your books and your assignments. Look at what you have due. I’ll spot check your work, and you can check mine.”

“Why?” The abrupt and mercurial shifts in her mood baffled him.

“Because we’re friends, dumbass.” In a softer voice, she added, “I don’t want to be alone. I’m worried about Mallory and Anna, and you know the world. When you’re here, I can pretend it’s not all bad. So, stay.”

He could have dismissed her disapproval, her mocking, even her pity, but not her plea. “Very well. I don’t even remember what classes I have tomorrow.”

“That’s what schedules are for, princeypoo.” She batted her eyelashes at him and at once they were back on familiar footing. “And syllabi, so bring it all. We’ll get you squared away, then you can let me pick your gorgeous brain for this paper.”

The dampness of her lips glistened in the room’s lamplight. George bent down and pressed a kiss to her open mouth. She froze at the contact, then angled her head and what began as an experiment turned sizzling. Where so many first kisses were awkward, kissing Penny felt familiar and tantalizing. With a sigh, her lips parted further and he withdrew before he tossed her laptop aside and dragged her off the sofa.

“What was that for?” She blinked up at him.

Many, many things
, but he didn’t say any of them. Instead, he shrugged. “Because I wanted to.”

Speechless looked good on her. So did the sparkle in her eyes. He’d erased some of her sadness and worry. Clearing her throat, she straightened. “Well, all right, then. Since you gotten that out of your system, let’s get back to homework.”

“Very well.” He felt quite agreeable and headed toward the door so he could fetch his things. Pausing before opening it, however, he turned to find her staring at him. “Point of order, Penny? It’s far from out of my system.”

A
s promised
, George returned a few minutes later with his books and a laptop of his own. Penny took the time to start a pot of coffee. Though she checked her phone—and his face—a dozen times easily, she managed to get her paper written. Fortunately, it was an essay on the growth and influence of art under the Medici rule. Lips still tingling from his too brief kiss earlier, she’d struggled to concentrate on the paper or anything for that matter. They’d traded laptops and assignments and, instead of reading his abstract on the economies of European nations, she watched him read her paper.

Not helping if you keep staring.
Checking her phone again, she found no messages from Mallory, so she stared at the breakdown of post-war economics in late 1940s Europe as compared to the post-Cold War in Eastern Europe.

George painted a stark, if brutal, portrait in a few short words. His laughter drew her out of the paper, and she glanced over to find him shaking his head in amusement.

“What?”

“Cosimo de Medici consolidated power effectively. He rules from behind the scenes, a true Godfather in a way which would have left Mario Puzo drooling. Through ruthless acquisition and brutal reprisal, Cosimo held sway over the entire city of Florence. The world was bettered due to his command because his interest in the arts initiated the commission of great cathedrals as well as ensuring artists were hired to decorate them. Arguably, his schools, his support of artists, and his generosity toward artisans surpasses any the art world ever knew. All it took was a dictator. Contradiction in terms? Or the physical representative of the tortured, artistic soul?” Disapproval tangled with amusement as he read the last part, and George raised his eyebrows. “Do you truly feel this way? The man was a despot.”

“Yes, he was, but Florence benefitted from it.”

“A segment of Florence, yes, but not the city as a whole.”

“Do you know how often artists and educators are dismissed or marginalized? He made them valuable, and paid them a small fortune to create some of the most amazing works of art in the world.”

“He shackled them and traded them like a commodity, made them a signatory of his wealth and influence, a trait shared by future generations and other men of power during the same age. Patrons of the arts? Perhaps. But they were also masters, demanding service and dressing it up to look pretty.” Disapproval and perhaps even a hint of disappointment echoed beneath his tone.

“Didn’t say I was in love with the guy, just making an argument for the opportunities available during the Renaissance which led to the era being labeled a renaissance.” She wanted to apologize for upsetting him, an uncomfortable position and one she didn’t typically occupy.

“Well, I am very pleased to know you aren’t in love with Cosimo.” Though he seemed sober and serious, a gleam entered his eyes and the corners of his mouth tipped a fraction. “Though, from the way this is worded, you clearly wish you lived in Florence during the period.”

“I kind of do, but only kinda.” Nibbling her lip, she considered confessing a ridiculous daydream. “Look, I know they didn’t have proper plumbing, or even decent medicine or air conditioning—all very vital parts of my life. Still, there’s something about being there when the world changes, living in those moments. It had to be exciting…”

“Terrifying is the adjective you’re looking for. You live in an ever-changing world now, one historians may very well wax poetic about in five hundred years. The adventurous time of the Internet tying the world together in unimaginable ways, changing how people live and what they know of the world. Economies, always mixed, are suddenly wholly dependent upon one another. Natural disasters, previously isolated events, now consume a wider audience and garner worldwide help and attention. The definition of art, ever flexible, changes with each generation. Although the future can gaze at the past through romanticized glasses, a great deal of bloodshed, tyranny, and fear are swept away by the symbols of victory.”