The Very Thought of You (7 page)

“I can't make that judgment.”
Not yet.
Was he ever touchy.

“Then let me make it for you. I'm one of the good guys.” He managed to sound hurt and defensive, like her opinion of him mattered. “Really. I am. Trust me.” The thunderclouds scattered under a sunny smile.

“Well … okay.” He still had to prove it.

“I can't think of any law that requires me to offer a buyout. There are plenty of property owners who serve eviction notices with the understanding their tenants either move in the time allotted or find their belongings in the street. I'd never do something so callous. Certainly not to that down-on-their-luck bunch who live in my building. With the buyout offer, we can all come out winners.”

Molly preferred his smile to a frown, so she didn't contradict him. Later, while they viewed some dump, she'd remind him of recent history. Since the economy had nosedived straight into the toilet, his buyout sucked.

As they left the Marina District behind, the streets grew grittier. Leafy trees gave way to telephone poles strung with exposed wire. A city bus lumbered by, the back panel tagged with graffiti. A diverse cross section of people — some well-heeled, others not — ambled along the sidewalks. Nick pulled the car into a No Parking zone and killed the motor. He pointed to a building diagonally across the street.

“I told the owner we'd meet him outside at eleven thirty.” He checked his watch. “We're a few minutes early.”

Molly leaned forward to peer around Nick and gazed out the driver's side window. Rising four stories, the building's brick façade looked in need of an immediate power wash. Shades were drawn in some of the windows. Cheap curtains framed smudged glass in the remaining ones. Someone in a ground floor apartment had balanced a couple of clay flowerpots on a window ledge. A few tired-looking sprigs of green peeked up over the rims. The front door looked as if you needed a battering ram to enter the premises.

“Is that a transient hotel?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. It's an apartment building.”

“It looks shabby.”

“What? I suppose
my
building reminds you of the Fairmont.”

She caught another whiff of his aftershave. Damn if it wasn't the exact one that came as a sample sheet in the latest issue of
Cosmo
. Rugged, yet seductive, or so the ad claimed. Rightly so. She wondered if a woman had bought it for him in hopes he'd put that heady scent to work on her. If it weren't for their million-dollar disagreement, Molly might consider taking a turn on the receiving end. He'd have to drop the attitude and really prove he was one of the good guys, though. What were the chances he'd morph into a prince? She hoped not as unlikely as being dealt a royal flush
sans
wild cards.

Mostly commercial buildings lined the block. A deli occupied one corner, a bar and launderette the other two. The ubiquitous hole-in the-wall Chinese restaurant clung to the fourth.

“How did you find this place?” She sat back and opened one of her folders and did a quick scan of the ads to see if she'd highlighted the address.

“A guy who works on my condo project touted me onto it. He lives here. Said he pays in the low seven hundreds.”

A construction guy. Well, it never hurt to have a little muscle on the premises. The low seven hundreds? He must hole up in a jail cell-sized room with a hotplate, mini fridge, and bathroom privileges down the hall. If true, it ought to blow a hole in the Mancini Proclamation.

Nick angled his body into the corner created by the driver's seat and door. The expression that settled across his features said the attitude was out and the sex appeal was back in. He raked a dark lock of hair away from his forehead while his eyes did a quick survey of her body.

“So how does a woman like you wind up running a not-for-profit clinic?”

A woman like
who
? And what was the “wind up” supposed to mean? “The clinic was the mayor's idea. He broached it at a meeting two and a half years ago when I worked for the city in social services. There weren't any facilities in the area for people to seek medical help. The nearest hospital, San Francisco General, is miles away. Anyway, the emergency rooms are always jammed. I wasn't sure if he was serious, but without thinking it through, I jumped up and said I could get something like that off the ground and keep it operational.”

“Yeah, I figured you for a do-gooder.”

The way he said it made her feel like a Mother Teresa clone. Was that how he pigeonholed her? Sexless and on the fast track to sainthood?

She frowned. “There are worse things than trying to make a difference in peoples' lives.”

“I agree. Absolutely. Like you said, the world would be a better place … ” He gave her a lopsided grin that pulled one edge of his mouth up. His strong, chiseled features relaxed. His eyes gazed into hers with a kind of warmth she hadn't noticed earlier.

Molly's annoyance crumbled like a slice of month-old bread. She smiled back.

“I didn't mean to interrupt you. That's another bad habit of mine.”

She supposed “bad” pretty much covered all his habits. Except maybe sex. She suspected he was very good in the sack.

Although the air conditioner was off for less than five minutes, heat began to climb inside the car. She blamed N MAN 1 and not Mother Nature.

“You were telling me about the clinic. How you became involved with it.”

“There's not much more to tell. I interviewed with the deputy mayor who liked my proposal on how I'd operate the facility and keep it funded. So he set up an appointment for me with the mayor.”

“What did you tell the mayor?”

“Pretty much the same as his deputy. Also, I made it clear I refused to spend half my time cutting through all the bureaucratic crap that came with working with another city agency. Or some such words.” She'd also told His Honor she was a self-starter and good at handling unexpected situations. She'd praised the mayor for his understanding of the needs of the city's less fortunate and his efforts to do something constructive. She decided not to let on to Nick about the compliment, though. He'd probably accuse her of kissing the mayor's
derriere
. “I knew how to keep the clinic on track. I expected some oversight, but I work best with a minimum of interference. The mayor had no problem with my conditions.”

“They must love you at City Hall.”

“They should. I don't make many demands on them.”

“You saved those for me.” He grinned and his sex appeal — the kind that could have a woman naked in less time than it took to say “strip, baby” — climbed into the active land mine zone.

“You find me demanding?” Molly resisted the temptation to fan herself with a file folder.

“That sounds a little strong. Let's just say — determined.”

The very word she'd used to describe him to her Aunt Vi.

He uncrossed his arms. One settled along the upper curve of the steering wheel, the other across his seat back. Corded muscles flexed under the sleeves of his T-shirt. Ditto where the cotton fabric stretched across his chest. The car didn't seem ample enough to contain his broad shoulders and long-legged, well-proportioned frame. His gaze held hers, and she didn't need Dominique's Ouija board to prove that, under other circumstances, she could become hardcore attracted to him.

“What's wrong with determination?” she said.

“Nothing, if it isn't taken to extremes.”

His upper and lower lips were equally full. Like the Michelangelo sculpture of David. The one with what seemed like a larger than life hand. She couldn't remember how far the sculptor went with the shepherd's other parts.

“Do you?” she asked.

“Do I what?”

“Take things to extremes?”

“Sometimes. Especially in my work.”

At the mention of work, his eyes became animated like a chocoholic's might when about to dig into a taxi-sized Hershey bar.

“How did you get into building condos, if you don't mind my asking?”

“It was a natural progression.”

“Starting when?”

“It started when I was a kid. My folks stored some lumber in the basement. One day I dragged it outside into the backyard. I built a fort — worked at it every day after school and on weekends.”

Of course. What good was a Commando without a fort?

“I always liked using my hands.”

Her gaze flicked to his long fingers. They appeared strong enough to wrestle with a steel beam. Probably, they could be gentle enough, too, with a woman.

“It still amazes my parents and just about everyone who knows me that I traded in a business degree for a hard hat and a tool belt. I tried the office route for two years and found it suffocating. I liked the freedom of working out in the open.” He shrugged. “I still like to crawl around a building site, but creating new projects excites me much more these days.”

Molly thought about her little cubbyhole of an office. Most of the time she was so busy, she never noticed the limited proportions. She couldn't imagine Nick stuck in a room even twice as big in size.

“Obviously, you enjoy building. How else do you become a condo king?”

His mouth opened and a frown pulled at his brows. “Where did you get that from?”

“The
Chronicle
. Last month, an article outlined how building green caught on really big in the city and ways in which it protects the environment. Your name was mentioned a couple of times. It's an interesting concept. I read recently where Pacific Gas and Electric has started a drive to erase our carbon footprints.”

“Going green is the future. Not just in San Francisco. I intend to incorporate whatever aspects are available to use in my current project. The one you'd like to torpedo.” He grinned as if a sunny smile could take away the sting.

She let it pass. “What aspects?”

“The plan is to collect rain water for use in the air-conditioning system, use recycled wood and coated glass to keep heat in and solar radiation out. It's more expensive but worth every cent in the end. It's not only environmentally friendly, it cuts down on monthly bills for the prospective buyers. Don't get me started on any aspects of building green, though. It's one of my passions, and I tend to go on too long. Condo king is an exaggeration. It's nothing I aspire to, anyway. My main goal isn't making money.”

“No?”

“My goal is to find out what people want and need and then provide it. I never gouge the tenants on my rental properties. I keep the rents affordable, rarely raise them, and hardly ever lose a tenant. The city has changed and, in many ways, for the better. I just want to take a small part and create a more enriching future for people who choose to live here. I'd like to make urban living a little more pleasant and a lot more available.”

The man certainly had a passion, not only for sparing the environment, but for his work. Now if he could only extend that to Mrs. Z and the other occupants of his apartment building.

“What about your tenants? They can't afford condos.”

“True. That's why we're on the prowl today. To find out what's affordable.”

“Exactly. Since we're on the subject of what is or isn't affordable, there's a rumor floating around on the block … ”

“There is? Hmm. For some reason, I never would have taken you for a woman who put much stock in rumors.”

“Well, generally, I don't.”

“Or spreading them.”

“I never do.”

“Good. Neither do I.” He checked his watch. “It's almost eleven thirty. Maybe we should wait across the street. I'd hate to miss this guy. He said he owns a couple of other buildings, too. If he has a few more vacancies, it could turn into a big plus. We can network.”

The way he so effectively quashed her mention of a rumor led Molly to believe it contained some truth. For sure, she'd better find a way to bring it up again later.

At the first break in traffic, Nick exited on the street side. Molly slung her purse strap over her shoulder, put her folders on the floor mat, and opened the passenger door. By the time she swung her legs out Nick stood at the curb and offered a hand. His fingers grasped hers and he gave a gentle tug that brought her up and out of her seat and into his arms. One arm, anyway, since he still clutched her hand. They stood like that for what seemed like an unnecessary length of time. Close enough, too, for the tingle to shoot back into her heels. It marched up her legs and, somehow, she found the good sense to quash it at her knees.

Finally, he stepped back and released her.

Her heels screamed for additional gratification, and she dug them into the sidewalk.

He ignored the crosswalk at the corner. When there was a lull in traffic, he took her arm and jaywalked her quickly to the opposite side of the street. When they arrived at the apartment building, he led her into a narrow setback formed by the front door and two shallow walls. Chips in the dark paint exposed an undercoat of gray. Candy wrappers, an empty soda can, and assorted flyers and newspaper flotsam littered the floor.

“Listen, I think there's something I better tell you before this guy shows up.”

The words, coupled with the tone of his voice, put her internal radar on alert. “What's that?”

“He … ah … ” He bit down on the inside of his lower lip and appeared to wince.

“Yes?”

He came up slightly onto the balls of his feet, then set his heels down. “He thinks we're married.”

“What?” Dim light suffused the doorway, and she gazed up at him through a web of shadows. “How did he get such a weird idea?”

“When I phoned him, he asked if only I was interested in the apartment, or if I planned to move in with a wife. Before I had a chance to think, I said I didn't have a wife. Then I remembered you.”