“I can only guess you’re some ugly spinster, sitting behind your keyboard feeling powerful for creating this bullshit website. Eventually someone will unearth your identity.”
—WaitingForRevenge
“Are you going to just stand there?” Joseph Preston swam to the edge of the pond.
Annie contemplated turning around and jogging in the other direction. It was exactly what he deserved. But she never was one to leave a person in need…unlike him.
Clasping a hand around his outstretched arm, she heaved. His grip was slippery, and she struggled to get leverage against the slick rocks ringing the pond. Her small frame was no match for the weight of his much larger one. If she wasn’t mistaken, he’d bulked up since he left.
“A thanks would be nice,” she said as he got to his feet.
“You pushed me into a pond.”
“I hardly pushed you.” It was so like him to blame it all on her.
“If I’m not mistaken, you’re dry and comfortable, and I’m the one covered in pond scum.” He stood, water pooling around his feet. One expensive-looking loafer was on his left foot, its companion nowhere to be seen.
Still, he managed to look devastatingly handsome, even with the missing shoe, ruined suit, and foliage sticking to his hair. He had a beard now, which was unexpected. But it gave his face a darker edge. A harder edge and an air of unabashed and striking masculinity. His blue eyes blazed, and his white shirt clung to the muscles on his chest. Yeah, he’d filled out all right.
Her stomach somersaulted.
“Darcy, nice to see you,” he said drily.
“Joe. It’s been a while.” Her eyes narrowed. “Though not long enough, in my humble opinion.”
Joseph ignored the dig and plucked a leaf from his arm, letting it drop to the ground with a splat. “I don’t suppose either of you know where I might be able to clean up and dry out my suit?”
“No idea.” Annie folded her arms across her chest, suddenly feeling very naked in her skin-tight leggings.
He looked her up and down, as though drinking in her image inch by inch, committing her to memory. Or recommitting her to memory. “None at all?”
A breath caught in her throat, her body threatening to combust with the angry swirl of emotions competing for dominance inside her. “Nope.”
“Not even an apartment that I might be able to get access to?” His eyes bored into hers.
“Can’t think of one…” She shook her head.
“We should go.” Darcy tugged on her arm. “You don’t owe him anything.”
Joseph didn’t react to Darcy’s statement, even though she’d said it loud enough that everyone around them could hear. They’d drawn quite the crowd. Murmurs skittered among the onlookers, but Annie couldn’t drag her eyes away from him. Joseph was here…in New York…in the flesh.
And what the hell was he doing in a suit on a Saturday?
“Annie.” Her name was a growl on his lips. He stretched the two syllables out into an endless rumble, like thunder warning of a storm.
Three years. Three goddamn years, and seeing him was still like taking a shotgun to her heart. The worst thing was, not a single part of her wanted to walk away right now. He’d always had that kind of pull. A magnetic energy that encircled him like his own special atmosphere.
She turned to Darcy, pretending her heart wasn’t lodged somewhere in her windpipe. “It’s fine. You go on. I can deal with this.”
“No.” Darcy shook her head. While Annie was trying her hardest to internalize her emotions, Darcy’s anger was raw and visible. “You don’t need to help him.”
“You can have a shower at my place,” Annie said to Joseph with an efficient nod. She placed a hand on Darcy’s arm. “It’s fine. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Darcy looked like she was about to spit fire, but she sucked in a breath and nodded. With a dirty look hurled in Joseph’s direction, she turned and headed back the way they’d come, with her hands balled into fists. Her reaction wasn’t surprising. She’d been by Annie’s side all through the breakup, all through her mother’s treatment, and every day since. Joseph’s name was a dirty word in their circle.
What was surprising, however, was that Annie wasn’t turning on her heel and following Darcy. Maybe it was some sick curiosity that compelled her to offer him a warm shower. Or maybe it was that she wanted him to see that she’d moved on…even if that was an illusion.
They walked. The only sound breaking the tense silence between them was the squelch of Joseph’s soggy clothes. He’d taken off his single shoe and it dangled limply from one hand. There were so many things she wanted to ask, like what the hell was he doing in their old spot?
She swallowed. “Their spot” was the section of the park surrounding the pond. She couldn’t seem to go running without tracing the water’s edge, torturing herself with memories of when he’d confessed his love for the first time.
She had so many questions. They all rushed for priority position, clambering over one another, but where the hell did she even start? There was so much to sift through, and she didn’t trust herself not to cry or throw him overboard again if she dared open her mouth.
So she said nothing, and neither did he.
Joseph didn’t need to be guided to her apartment off Sixth Avenue. She wondered if he would be shocked by how it looked now with all signs that he’d lived there scrubbed clean until the place was sanitized of his presence.
Would he even notice?
Joseph cleared his throat. “I wondered if you might move out one day.”
“Why would I? I love this apartment.” She kept her eyes firmly fixed on the path ahead, not daring to look at him. Her limbs moved heavily, gracelessly. She may as well have been wading through a swamp.
“I loved it too.” There wasn’t a hint of emotion in his voice. Good old Preston stoicism. Like father, like son.
“You loved a lot of things at one point.”
He had the good sense to keep his mouth shut as they walked through the lobby of the apartment building. The security guard behind the counter raised an eyebrow at Joseph’s appearance, but he didn’t stop them. If he remembered Joseph, he didn’t say, and Annie let out a sigh of relief. She couldn’t handle questions right now…particularly ones she didn’t have answers to.
Fifteen minutes later, Joseph sat on the soft, gray couch, freshly showered and wrapped in a towel. He nursed a cup of coffee between his palms, and as he blew on the steam, he watched Annie intently.
This was not how things should be going down. The smart thing would have been to kick him out as soon as he’d finished showering. Instead, she’d been making a coffee for herself and had automatically made one for him.
Muscle memory…what a bitch.
Perching herself on the arm of the sofa, she tapped a silent beat with her foot. Sunlight streamed in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing them both in gold. The scene was so familiar that it unsettled her down to the marrow of her bones. How many weekend mornings had they sat in this exact space, drinking coffee and planning their future? How many times had they abandoned breakfast to make love on the couch, the floor…that one incredible time on the coffee table?
It had been the first thing she’d sold when he left.
The memory of sorting through the boxes, deciding what should follow Joseph to Singapore and what should stay behind with her, burned like a newly lit flame in her chest.
“Did you really have to push me into the pond?” He raked a hand through his hair, sending a few droplets scattering over his shoulders and chest.
The towel did little to hide his perfect physique. He’d always been on the lean side, but now his thighs pressed against the soft fabric of the towel and the ripple of muscle in his abdomen was more pronounced. His shoulders appeared bigger, as did the generous shape of his biceps and the curve of his calves.
Annie swallowed against the dryness in her mouth.
“Honestly? I’ve thought about it many times.” She cradled her coffee, thankful for something to occupy her hands. “I guess some dreams do come true.”
“What a special day.” His voice was dry. Was he more upset that he’d ended up in her care or that she’d ruined a Zegna? Knowing Joseph, probably the latter.
“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”
Her gaze roamed around the room, looking at everything but him. The place had changed a lot, with sharp modern art replaced by softer, more feminine pieces. The stylish minimalist gray tones had been updated with muted pinks and blues.
“Once would be fine,” he drawled.
Of all the scenarios she’d played in her head about what would happen when they met again, this was not one of them. Her slapping him across the face and telling him what a fool he was? Yep, that could happen. Her flaunting her new running-fit body in some impossibly skimpy outfit and him collecting his jaw from the ground? Absolutely.
Her knocking him on his ass and then him bullying his way into their old home? Hell. No.
“If either one of us has cause to provide an apology, I know who it is,” she said. “I’ll give you a clue. It’s not me.”
“Well, you’ve got some force. I’ll give you that. When did you take up running?”
“When you left.”
It was the one statement guaranteed to kill conversation. No point in beating around the bush. They’d been reunited by some cruel joke of the universe. It didn’t change anything, despite his attempt at semipolite conversation. She hadn’t even known he was back in the country. Why would she? It’s not like he’d called, or texted, or emailed…in three years.
Joseph sipped his coffee and continued to study her. His inquisitive blue eyes analyzed the changes in her, the changes in their old home. Her home.
She didn’t want to talk to him, didn’t want to have him so close to her. Old urges were simmering below the surface, masked beneath resentment that snowballed by the minute. She had to break the silence before it broke her.
Tell him to leave. Get him out of here!
“How was Singapore?” she asked, mentally cursing herself.
“Busy.” He set the cup down on the table in front of him. “Exhausting.”
Lonely. She could hear it in his voice, a tiny change in tone that revealed more than his words. When they were together, she’d become adept at interpreting tone. Being with Joseph had required master-level skills in translating body language. She’d become an expert in pitch and subtext and the minutia of him.
Was he regretting his decision to leave? Had he missed her?
Her chest constricted. “Why did you come back?”
“New opportunities. HSBC had given me what I needed, and it was time for me to move on.”
“And how is your career going?” Annie couldn’t keep the edge out of her voice. “Are you on your way to world domination yet?”
He sat up straighter, his broad shoulders stretching to their full breadth. She forced herself not stare at the muscles flexing in his chest and arms as he shifted position. One wrong move, and that towel would be nothing more than window dressing.
“Did you say you had something I could change into?” He ignored her question.
And like that, conversation time was over. Some things never changed. “No, I didn’t say that.”
“You expect me to walk out of here naked?”
Annie smirked. “Why not? I’m sure the ladies of Manhattan wouldn’t mind. It’s over fifty degrees, so you shouldn’t have too much shrinkage.”
“That’s never been a problem, and you know it.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “And I’m not going to get booked for indecent exposure my first weekend back in the city.”
“That sounds like your problem.” She waited for him to squirm. He didn’t. “How you walk out of here is up to you, but your options are pretty limited.”
“And what exactly are my options?”
She smiled. “Your suit or a towel or a pair of my running tights.”
* * *
Joseph’s eyes dropped to the dark fabric hugging her hips and thighs, outlining her to perfection. Even if he could squeeze into them—which was highly unlikely—he’d maintain his modesty better with a face cloth. But damn, she looked good in them. Her legs were lean and toned. Shapely.
The rest of her was as stunning as he remembered—cocoa-colored eyes framed by thick lashes, fine nose, high cheekbones. She had a smile that could light up a room…not that he’d be likely to see it anytime soon.
“Surely there’s something else I can wear,” he said.
She shook her head. “Not that I can think of.”
“You haven’t got any baggy sweatpants?”
“I’m afraid not.” She looked like she was having far too much fun with this scenario.
“You seriously have nothing else?”
He was tempted to ask her if an old boyfriend—or a current one—might have left any clothing he could borrow. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that.
“What about a sock?” She cocked her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Or maybe a strategically tied scarf?”
Clearly she wasn’t going to budge. Wasn’t this the ultimate post-breakup fantasy? Catching your ex in a compromising position and mercilessly holding it over them?
Since his suit was currently soaked through, it looked like he’d be making the journey back to his new apartment in a towel. Part of negotiation was knowing when to stop, and she’d made it crystal clear that pushing would not get him what he wanted.
If she thought he was going to stay here and whine about it, she was sorely mistaken.
“Fine.” He stood, tightening his grip on the knot at his waist.
Annie’s eyes lingered there, something dark and forbidden flickering over her features. Joseph willed himself not to react. An untimely erection would only make his situation more precarious. But it was hard not to remember all the times they’d torn each other’s clothes off right here. Annie was the kind of woman who’d been brimming with passion, and she’d often instigated sex with rough kisses that spiked his body temperature and made him insatiably hungry for her.
Chemistry was never their problem.
He squared his shoulders and walked across the room, studiously ignoring the internal voices taunting him with all the ways he’d screwed up. He hovered at her front door, her name on his lips.
There was so much he wanted to say to her, but talking about his feelings ranked low on his list of skills. And desires.
“What about your suit and shoes? Well, shoe. Singular.” The amusement in Annie’s voice needled at him. Yeah, she enjoyed having the upper hand, all right. “It’ll all be ruined if you squish it into a bag now.”
“I’ll pick everything up later, after my appointment.”
He opened her door and walked out into the hall. Nobody else appeared to be coming or going from their apartment and he made it down to the foyer without anyone seeing him. But that’s where his luck ran out. The concierge lifted a brow as Joseph strode through the lobby, the towel clutched in one hand and his soggy wallet in the other.
“Can I help you with something?” the concierge asked. But Joseph walked silent and barefoot right out onto the street, automatically sticking his hand out to hail a cab.
The cool air chilled his skin. Hypothermia was the least of his concerns, however. Because even though New York had a reputation for being an intensely crazy city, a half-naked man standing on the corner of Sixth Avenue in Midtown would most certainly attract attention. And he was less worried about a cop stumbling across him than he was going viral on Snapchat.
That would not be the right way to start off his stint as the “youngest CIO of any American bank.”
“Oh my God!” A group of teenage girls giggled as they walked past him, arms linked. One of them held her phone up, the rhinestone-encrusted case glittering in warning.
Mercifully, a cab pulled over right then, and Joseph ducked his head as he slid into the back seat. If the girl got a photo, at least it wouldn’t show his face.
“Sutton Place,” he said, following up with the exact address.
The driver, a woman, winked at him in the rearview mirror. “It’s not every day I pick up a guy in a towel. Got a story to go with that outfit?”
“My ex-girlfriend pushed me into a pond.”
A raspy chuckle filled the cab. “Good for her.”
His new home wasn’t too far from their old building. Her building. The sun shone brightly through the window, warming his exposed skin as he kept a hand gripping the towel tightly in front of his privates. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally flash the cabbie.
He was pissed. Surprisingly, it wasn’t because he’d been forced to head home in locker-room attire. He was pissed because he’d lost control over his first meeting with Annie after his absence. He had planned to see her again, of course, but it would have been on his terms when he wasn’t in such an…exposed state.
Literally and figuratively.
Now she knew he was here, and his scrambled mind hadn’t allowed him to communicate properly. He’d come across like an arrogant SOB, forcing his way into her apartment because he couldn’t bear to pry himself away. Curiosity had gotten the better of him, proof that within five seconds Annie could shatter his legendary control just as she always had. He’d wanted to see what their old place looked like now. Had she kept any of the things they’d bought together? Was there even a trace of him left? Had she replaced them with the belongings of another man?
The thought of another guy being with Annie in their old apartment made Joseph’s blood boil. He was completely aware that being jealous if she’d moved on made him a first-class hypocrite, but that didn’t stop the surge of ugly emotion rocketing through him at full speed. Not that anyone would ever see it. He’d make damn sure of that.
But the apartment looked like it was set up for one. No photos of any other men besides her stepfather or grandfather in the living room. No manly objects marred the feminine softness of the furniture or decor, which was Annie to a T. It shouldn’t have relieved him…but it did.
When the cab pulled up at his building, he handed the wet bills over, paying more than double for the fare. He could only hope the swipe card to his new building would still work, since the front desk team didn’t know him by face yet. It took him several attempts, but eventually the card let him in, and his key was tucked safely in the coin pouch of the wallet.
He strode through the lobby, his bare feet making sucking noises against the tiles. The security guard lifted his head and looked at Joseph quizzically.
He didn’t break pace. “Don’t even ask, buddy.”
After avoiding the strange glances from a woman in the elevator, he marched down the hallway to his door and let himself in. Tossing his wallet onto the kitchen bench, he frowned when it landed with a wet slap. In all likelihood, he’d need to replace the wallet as well as his suit and shoes. What about his phone? Crap. That was also lost to the depths of the pond, since it’d been in his hand when he’d fallen. He’d have to look up his new boss’s number. Not exactly the best way to make an impression on the guy, since they were supposed to be meeting at some upscale place for lunch in less than an hour.
He shouldn’t even have been in Central Park. But it was on the way, and he’d gone early to have some fresh air and time to clear his head. The second he’d spotted the path leading to their spot…
Their spot. They’d been one of those sickeningly sweet couples with a spot and a song and a takeout place. Annie had made sure they documented all their special moments, assigning things of importance like cocktails and meals and venues to the memories as a way to anchor them in the present. To allow them to be replicated.
Fuck. This wasn’t how he’d wanted to see her again.
Joseph dropped the towel to the floor and walked naked to his home office. The window was full-length but it faced the glittering line of the East River, so no one would witness him working in his birthday suit.
Right now, he had more immediate concerns than sorting through the shit between him and Annie. But his ruined clothing was still at her place, so at least he had a reason to go back unless she decided to dump everything in the trash.
He opened his laptop, found the email with the restaurant details, and called to let them know he’d be late. Then he selected a fresh suit along with a crisp, white shirt from his closet and a blue-and-red tie. Company colors. They might make up for the fact that he was late. Never mind that he was having a business meeting on a Saturday. That was his life now.
Personal time wasn’t a luxury afforded to people in his line of work. And he was young—almost too young—for the job he had, which meant needing to prove himself at every turn. Not many major worldwide banks had a CIO who was thirty. So, people were watching him.
He was about to leave the apartment when the landline rang. “Hello?”
“Joseph.” The commanding voice of his father boomed through the phone line.
“Dad, what a pleasure,” he said drily. After this morning, he didn’t want to deal with Morris Preston and couldn’t even muster the energy to fake it.
“You could sound a little happier, Son.” One of his father’s signature dramatic pauses stretched on. Joseph knew to prepare himself for the sting. “Have you had a rough start to your repatriation?”
“Something like that,” Joseph muttered. “And I’m running late for a meeting.”
“Already tardy.”
The admonishment made his cheeks burn. Only his father could reduce him to feeling like a naughty child in less than a minute of conversation. He resisted the urge to recite the lines of his résumé as proof he knew how to handle his career.
Instead, he took a silent breath and said, “It’ll be fine.”
“It’s that careless attitude that caused you to have so many problems in Singapore.”
“I didn’t have many problems in Singapore.” Just one. A big one.
“But you’re not denying you had a careless attitude?”
“I—”
“It was a rhetorical question. If you’re going to sleep your way around the expat scene, perhaps don’t choose the daughter of a board member next time.”
Joseph resisted the urge to hurl the phone against the wall. In “sleeping his way around the expat scene,” he’d had one relationship in the three years he was there. One woman in his bed. And while hindsight had shown him it was a bad decision, he was hardly a playboy or a womanizer. But trust his father to bring up the topic of his fall from grace the second he arrived back home. Would he ever hear the end of it? Not likely.
“Did you have a reason for calling, or was it just to remind me why I enjoyed being away?” Joseph couldn’t keep the barb out of his voice, cursing himself immediately as soon as the words left his lips.
There was no point antagonizing Morris. He was stubborn as a mule, and bitching him out would only make it worse.
“What a shame Singapore didn’t improve your manners. I’d hoped the experience might have been a good influence on you. Seems I was wrong.” Morris cleared his throat. “Anyway, the reason that I called is because I’d like to have lunch. I figured if I left it up to you, I’d be waiting some time.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t have your assistant call. I’m honored.”
“I’ll let that one slide. Meet me at Per Se next Sunday. I’ll have Millie reserve a table.”
Joseph hung up the phone and groaned. He’d only arrived in Manhattan two days ago, and already everything was turning pear-shaped—running into Annie unprepared, winding his father up… What next?
Sighing, Joseph headed for the front door. So much for the welcome wagon.