A Fare To Remember_ Just Whistle_Driven - Vicki Lewis Thompson [80]
“Oh, look what I’ve done. I’ve ruined your shirt and tie. You can’t go to work like that.”
This was perfect! She could offer to take his shirt to the cleaners and they’d have to see each other again. Or maybe he’d be willing to stop by her apartment while she soaked it in cold water. Her mind flashed to an image of him, shirtless, standing in her kitchen.
He gave her a shrug, then waved his newspaper between them.
“Really, I’m fine. That will teach me to read the baseball scores on the way to the subway.”
“At least let me pay to have your clothes cleaned,” Sabina offered.
He shook his head as he brushed stray droplets of her latte off his suit. “I just live a few blocks from here. I’ll run home and change.” He reached out and touched her shoulder. “You’re sure you’re all right? No broken bones, no internal injuries?”
Sabina nodded, desperately searching for something more to say to him…anything that would keep him standing on the sidewalk just a few moments longer. Couldn’t he feel the attraction between them? Her heart fell. Maybe he wasn’t interested. And just because he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever met didn’t mean he was available. He could be involved, maybe even engaged or married. It would be just her luck to meet the only perfect man in New York, then find out he was already taken.
“All the good ones are,” she muttered, raking her dark hair out of her eyes.
“What?”
Sabina swallowed hard. “Nothing.”
“Well, it was nice running into you,” he said, giving her a nod. “Maybe we can do it again sometime.” He glanced at his watch. “I really am going to be late. So, take care.” He gave her a quick wave and started down the sidewalk.
Sabina watched him walk away, certain that she’d just blown any chance she had with him. But at the last minute, he turned around. “When?” he shouted.
Confused, Sabina shook her head. “When what?”
“When can we run into each other again?”
A giggle bubbled up inside of her at the sudden turn of events. “How about right here? Tomorrow morning? We can go for coffee.”
“Same time, same place.” He waved, then ran across the street and disappeared into a stream of pedestrians.
Sabina reached down and took the amulet between her thumb and forefinger. “I guess it does work,” she murmured.
“RUTA’S. IT’S ON Christopher Street. I know just where it is,” the cabbie said.
Alec Harnett glanced at his watch, then surveyed the gridlocked traffic on Sixth Avenue through the cab window. He reached into his briefcase and picked out the file folder labeled LUPESCU. The corners were dog-eared and the label was yellowed owing to the age of the file. Inside, he found a detailed listing of yearly visits to Ruta Lupescu’s shop by his father, Simon Harnett, written offers that had remained unsigned, and a stack of property appraisals that increased in value with every year that passed. In addition, there were copies of reports by the building inspectors, claiming that, despite his father’s insistence, Ruta Lupescu was in compliance with all New York city building codes.
The old Gypsy woman had been a thorn in his father’s side for nearly thirty years, ever since his father took over Harnett Property Development from Alec’s grandfather, George Harnett. And now that Alec had been named president of the company, the problem of Ruta Lupescu had fallen onto his desk.
He’d been headed to Ruta’s earlier that morning when he’d been knocked to the sidewalk. Alec smiled as he recalled the beauty who had caused the accident. He’d known more than his share of women in Manhattan, one more beautiful than the next. But this woman was different from all of them.
Alec had always been drawn to willowy blondes, the all-American beauty, cool and aloof, except in bed. The woman he’d met that morning was the opposite. She had an exotic beauty, every feature magnified just enough to make it extraordinary. Her mouth was wide, her lips lush, her skin like silk. Her violet eyes were ringed with dark