Under a falling star, p.5
Under a Falling Star, page 5
The car behind them started honking when the light turned green and Austen didn’t clear the intersection.
Dee gestured toward the traffic light. “I don’t think it’s going to get any greener.”
“I’m not moving until you give me directions to your house.”
“God, and you call me stubborn.”
The driver behind them leaned on his horn.
Dee turned and flipped him off. “Okay, okay. Straight through. And then turn left at the next intersection.”
* * *
Following Dee’s directions, Austen stopped the BMW on a quiet, tree-lined side street in Irvington and sat gaping at the light sage-green Victorian across the street. Stairs with intricately carved balustrades led up to the porch, and an octagonal turret reached up into the night sky. “This is where you live?”
Dee nodded. “Something wrong with that?”
“No, it’s just…” She had expected Dee to live in a sleek, modern condo, not in this lovingly restored Victorian. “I didn’t take you for a closet romantic.”
“I’m not.” Dee looked as if she’d been insulted, making Austen laugh.
They got out of the car, and Dee led her past the green lawn and up the stairs.
Austen’s heels clicked across the hardwood floor. Still a little slack-jawed, she looked around. Dee didn’t offer her a tour of the house, but she got a glimpse of custom-painted cabinets in the kitchen and, when they entered the living room, a winding staircase leading upstairs. “Wow. I said it before, and I’ll say it again. I clearly have the wrong job.” She didn’t want to even imagine what a house in this neighborhood might cost, but she knew she could never afford it. Apparently, working for Attila had its perks. “Think Ms. Saunders needs someone in operations?”
“She could use a good assistant,” Dee said. “As for the house… It wasn’t as expensive as you might think. I did most of the restorations myself; that saved a pretty penny.”
Austen tried to imagine Dee with a sander but couldn’t. She had to admit, though, that those strong hands with their long fingers certainly looked capable.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Dee gave her a little shove. “I really did. I had to. The living room had pink wallpaper when I moved in.”
Austen looked around the living room. She liked the light cream wallpaper Dee had chosen; it made the sparingly decorated room seem cozier. Other than a couch, there wasn’t much furniture, though. The walls were bare of pictures, and no personal knickknacks adorned the mantel. Half a dozen moving boxes were piled up in one corner of the living room. “Oh, you just moved here?”
Dee rubbed her neck. “Uh, kind of. I bought the house in February.”
“And you still aren’t unpacked? Dee, it’s December!”
“What can I say? I have a more minimalistic style.”
“This isn’t minimalistic. This is empty.”
Dee seemed unimpressed. “Well, it’s not like I’m spending a lot of time here. I’m at the office almost twenty-four seven anyway.”
Austen decided that she didn’t want to work for Attila after all. All the money in the world wasn’t worth giving up her private life.
Dee kicked off her shoes, apparently not caring where they landed, freed her long, black hair from the chignon, and shook it loose.
Instantly, the bareness of Dee’s home was forgotten. Austen couldn’t help staring at her. Even in her wrinkled, bloodstained pantsuit and with the row of stitches across her forehead, she was striking.
“What?” Dee asked. “Do I still have blood on my face?”
Austen wrenched her gaze away. “Uh, no.”
Dee rubbed her hand over her face anyway and flinched as she touched a tender area. “Ouch. I think the lidocaine is starting to wear off.” They had filled the prescription on the way to the house, and now she fumbled to get the bottle of painkillers out of her pocket.
“I don’t think taking them on an empty stomach is a good idea.”
“Don’t worry.” Dee popped the bottle open and shook out two pills. “I do that all the time.”
Austen crossed the room and covered Dee’s hand with hers. “Not on my watch. Why don’t you go get cleaned up, and I’ll see what I can scare up for a late dinner. Then you can take the pills.”
Dee’s brows pinched. She pointedly looked down at the hand covering hers.
Austen let go and took a step back. “Sorry. Look, I get it. I’m a total stranger, and you’re obviously used to taking care of yourself. But I’m here now, so why not let me take care of dinner while you take a quick shower? Or are you worried that I’ll steal your TV and the money you keep under your mattress?”
Dee snorted. “I don’t have a TV, and I don’t keep much cash in the house. Besides, I know where you work, so I’d have you arrested faster than you can say ‘I didn’t do it.’”
“Right. So?” Austen looked into Dee’s eyes, fairly sure that she wouldn’t be able to resist a challenge.
“I appreciate you taking me to the ER and driving me home, but you really don’t have to stay. There’s no reason to feel responsible for what happened with that damn star.”
Austen did feel bad about Dee getting hurt, even though she knew it wasn’t her fault. Dee had brought it upon herself with her ruthless repositioning of the decorations. Still, the thought of going home and leaving Dee to fend for herself didn’t sit well with her. Dee didn’t seem to take very good care of herself, so Austen wanted to keep an eye on her. But that’s not all, is it? She had to admit that she also liked Dee’s company. As grouchy and arrogant as she had come across at first, there was something about her that Austen couldn’t help liking. “So you can log into the company server and work on that report all night?”
“Damn, you know me too well already. Am I that transparent?”
“Yes?”
Dee blinked. “Really?”
“No. I have a feeling there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
“Yeah, well, about that…” Dee shuffled her bare feet on the hardwood floor. “There’s something I should tell you.”
“Tell me over dinner,” Austen said. Whatever it was, it had to wait until her stomach stopped growling and Dee had been able to take some painkillers.
Dee stared at the painkillers in her hand before sighing and putting them back in the bottle. “All right. You won’t find much in my fridge, but there are some takeout menus pinned to it.”
“Do they deliver this late?” By now, it was closer to eleven than to ten.
“Yes, they do,” Dee said as if she knew their business hours by heart. “Just tell them you’re calling on behalf of Dee. They know my address.”
“Let me guess. You’re keeping all of them in business.” Austen imagined Dee hunched over her computer, working until late in the night and forgetting dinner until her growling stomach reminded her.
Dee shrugged. “I’m doing my best to help the economy.” After glancing at Austen for a few more seconds, she moved to the winding staircase. When she reached it, she turned back around, clearly hesitant to leave a stranger downstairs while she went to take a shower.
“It’s okay,” Austen said with a soft smile. “Remember, you don’t own a TV.”
Dee gave her a look, turned, and climbed the stairs.
Austen watched her, letting her gaze trail down to Dee’s firm backside. When Dee disappeared around the last curve of the winding staircase, she kicked herself into motion and walked over to the kitchen.
* * *
Dee stepped into the shower and let the hot water rain down on her back, careful to keep the stitches on her forehead dry. Her thoughts weren’t on the shower, though; they still lingered on the woman in her living room.
While she had tried to send Austen away and wasn’t entirely comfortable with leaving her alone downstairs, she didn’t really want her to go. As much of a loner as she usually was, she found herself wanting to spend more time with her.
You’ve got to tell her who you are. But that was easier said than done. Austen seemed like an honest, straightforward person. Hell, Dee suspected that she was the type to feel guilty if she found she had accidentally put a Kudos Entertainment pen in her shirt pocket and had taken it home at the end of the day. She wouldn’t take it well if Dee told her she’d been lying to her the whole time, even if it was a lie of omission.
Maybe it was better to tell her and have her run screaming anyway. Even making friends with an employee would not be a good idea. But as much as she told herself that, she wasn’t ready to give up Austen’s company.
Still struggling with her inner conflict, she shut off the water and climbed out of the shower just as a light knock came on the bathroom door.
“Dee?” Austen called through the closed door. “You didn’t drown, did you?”
Apparently, she had been in the shower, trying to find a way out of her dilemma, for longer than she’d thought. “Don’t worry,” she called back. “I can swim.”
“Good to know. I found the takeout menus. Is Chinese okay?”
“Sure.”
“What do you want?” Austen called.
“Surprise me,” Dee said as she reached for a button-down shirt that she didn’t need to pull over her head.
“Okay.” Austen’s footsteps faded away.
Shirt in hand, Dee froze when she realized what she’d just said. Normally, she never, ever let anyone else order for her. That had to be the head wound and the grueling hours spent in the ER, right?
Right. She nodded to herself, got dressed, and stepped out of the bathroom.
* * *
Who would have thought that this was how she’d end the day—her first day at the new job—lugging around moving boxes in a stranger’s house to build an improvised table?
Stranger, Austen repeated to herself. Realistically speaking, Dee was just that. They had met just a few hours before and barely knew a thing about each other. Still, Dee didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. Maybe it was the ER experience that was binding them together.
Steps coming down the winding staircase made her look up.
Dee entered the living room, dressed in a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt. She’d looked spectacular in her pantsuit, the same gray color as her eyes, but this…
Austen touched her chin to make sure she wasn’t drooling.
Then Dee stepped closer, and Austen realized that her forehead and one of her temples were still stained an orange-brown.
Smiling, Austen pointed at Dee’s forehead. “You should try to wash some of that off before you go to work tomorrow. Your boss might not like the fresh-out-of-hospital look on one of her…um, what exactly is it that you do for a living?”
Dee walked around her, picked up a pair of chopsticks from the makeshift table, and twirled it through her fingers. “A little bit of this, a little bit of that. Basically, I jump in whenever it’s needed.”
Now that was a fuzzy job description, if she’d ever heard one. Her boss probably ran poor Dee ragged. Again, Austen thanked the patron saints of unemployed administrative assistants that she hadn’t been hired by Ms. Saunders. She reached for Dee’s hand. “Come on. I’ll help you get the Betadine off.”
With Austen leading the way, still holding on to Dee’s hand, they made their way up the stairs and to the bathroom.
Dee wiped the mirror, which had fogged up during her earlier shower, and scowled at her reflection. “Great. Doogie Howser, MD, sure wasn’t stingy with that stuff.”
Austen chuckled at the nickname. “He wasn’t that young.”
Dee just arched an eyebrow and flinched when that facial expression pulled on her stitches. She took a washcloth out of the bathroom cabinet and ran water over it.
“Let me.” Before she could protest, Austen stepped closer and took the washcloth from her. She put a bit of soap from the sink on one corner and slid her left hand behind Dee’s head to pull her down a little so she could scrub off the stains around the stitched-up cut.
Their gazes met, and both of them froze, their bodies brushing lightly.
Austen’s breath came too fast. Her body temperature, mingling with Dee’s heat, shot through the roof. Tunnel vision set in until all she could see were Dee’s darkening gray eyes and her full lips.
The doorbell startled them apart.
Austen pressed one hand against her rapidly beating heart. Saved by the bell. “Wow. That was fast.” She sounded out of breath even to her own ears.
“Yeah.” Dee’s voice was equally rough. “They’re right across the street. I’d better open the door before they turn back around with our dinner.”
Dazed, Austen watched her rush out of the bathroom.
* * *
Dee suppressed a grin as she watched Austen fight with her chopsticks.
Without much success, Austen tried to pick up a piece of zucchini and some of her Gwai Wer noodles, but they kept slipping and falling back onto the plate. By the time the chopsticks reached her mouth, only bits of the Chinese barbecue sauce remained.
Admittedly, the way she licked those chopsticks was pretty sexy, so Dee said nothing and let her continue her battle. Images of pushing the Chinese takeout out of the way, pressing Austen against the improvised table, and taking her right then and there, fast and hard, flashed through her mind. Once or twice, she’d done something like that in past relationships, if you could even call them that, instantly setting the tone and letting them know that she was in control.
But with Austen, things were different. She was an employee, not some stranger she had met at a conference or on a plane. Dee had made a few mistakes in the past, having a handful of one-night stands and getting involved in relationships that were doomed from the start, because she had neither the skills nor the time to make them work. The breakups had been mostly painless, and life had gone on, with nothing to disturb her focus on work.
But she couldn’t afford to make any mistakes with Austen. Giving in to the strong pull she felt could have grave consequences; she knew that. Still, watching those sensual lips slide over the chopsticks was doing things to her libido that no woman from her past had ever managed.
Austen looked up. “You’re not eating. Should I have ordered something else for you?”
Dee wrenched her gaze away from her, shook off her sexual haze, and wolfed down a piece of chicken. “No,” she said with her mouth full. “It’s great.” That was the truth. She had to admit that Austen had chosen well. “And you? Do you like what you ordered for yourself?”
“I do, but…” Austen shook her head, exasperation written all over her cute face. “It’s just not logical.”
“What do you mean?” Dee tilted her head. The way Austen’s brain worked intrigued her.
“This.” Austen lifted her chopsticks. “Of all the instruments the Chinese could have invented to eat rice, the best thing they could come up with was two thin sticks? I sure hope the inventors in our development team are more creative.”
Dee laughed. She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so much, especially not after a day like this. “Do you want a fork?”
“Yes, please. I admit defeat.”
Dee put down her plate of Kung Pao chicken, got up, and went to the kitchen. She took her time, opening the fridge and getting them two more bottles of water. A moment alone, away from temptation, helped her clear her head and cool her libido.
When she returned with the water and the fork, Austen made short work of her noodles.
Finally, only the fortune cookies they had saved as a dessert were left.
“Pick your fortune,” Dee said, nodding down at the two cookies.
Austen pointed back and forth between the cookies. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, catch a cookie by the toe. If he hollers, let him go. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. My mother told me to pick the very best one, and that is Y-O-U.” She grabbed one cookie.
Dee chuckled at her antics. “Your mother is full of wisdom, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” Austen said quietly. “She was.”
The Kung Pao chicken sat like lead in Dee’s stomach. “You mean…? She…?”
“She died fifteen years ago, when I was sixteen.” Austen’s eyes were dry, but full of sadness. “That’s why I think you shouldn’t spend all your time at the office. Life’s too short.”
“Work is my life,” Dee said, still with a lump in her throat.
“It’s never too late to change.” Austen forced a smile. “Open your cookie. Maybe it’ll have some sage advice for you.” She pulled her own cookie out of its plastic wrapper and broke it in two pieces. Chewing the cookie, she opened the slip of paper—and started coughing.
“Careful.” Dee handed her one of the water bottles. “Remember the valuable assets thing. HR wouldn’t like it if you asphyxiated on my couch. Here, take a sip.”
Cheeks flushed from her coughing spell, Austen took a sip of water.
A single drop ran down the corner of her mouth, and Dee’s gaze tracked it. Stop it, idiot! She forced her attention back to the conversation. “So, what did you get? A tall, dark, and handsome stranger entering your life and sweeping you off your feet?”
Austen coughed again and shook her head. She curled her hand around the slip of paper. “No. Just the usual. You know. That ‘you’ll receive a big surprise soon’ thing.”
Damn. For once, the fortune cookie wisdom was accurate. Austen would receive a big surprise soon—and one she wouldn’t like. Get it over with and tell her!
But before she could get up the courage to do just that, Austen nudged her. “And you? What great wisdom did you get?”
Dee broke her cookie, popped it into her mouth, unfolded the piece of paper, and read what was written there.
The cruelest lies are often told in silence.
She shoved that advice into the pocket of her jeans, where Austen wouldn’t see it. Wonderful. Now she felt even guiltier for not telling Austen the truth.
