“We know this is hard for you. Here’s my card,” the younger cop said. He gave her a smile, one which probably came off to Layla, who liked to believe the best of everybody, as gentle, but which Nathan could clearly see for the flirtation it was. And as if to confirm his suspicions, the cop said, “Maybe we can swing by here tomorrow just to make sure everything is okay.”
Nathan stood up and took the card before Layla could. He drew himself up to his full six feet, three inches, which put him at a couple inches taller than the younger cop. “That won’t be necessary. Layla’s coming home with me. I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to stay in this apartment alone.”
“There wasn’t any breaking and entering,” the young cop said. “She’ll probably be fine.”
Hot anger burned inside his chest at the thought of this man using this crime as an excuse to romance Layla.
“Probably isn’t good enough for me,” Nathan said. And much to his surprise, he realized it wasn’t. Sure he wanted her gone from Pittsburgh, but he wanted her to leave in one piece. “I’ll see you two out now.”
***
Layla’s first thought had been to reject Nathan’s offer to spend the night at his place. But she really didn’t want to stay in her apartment, at least not until the door had been repainted. And the landlord had already come by and said it would take at least a couple of days for that. Actually, at first he had said a couple of weeks, but before Layla could stop him, Nathan bullied him into getting it repainted within forty-eight hours.
Nathan Sinclair, she thought to herself, seemed to have a gift for pressuring others to get his way. And Layla again wondered what could have possibly gone down between them back in the day. Was he the Pittsburgh boyfriend her father had mentioned, and if so, what had she done to make him want her out of his life so badly?
She watched him at the door, instructing the two police officers to interview her neighbors and found it hard to believe he had a twin brother, that there were two guys as gorgeous as him running around the city of Pittsburgh—
Wait, the brother! It suddenly occurred to her that if she wanted information about what happened during the year she’d lost, there might be one more path open to her. According to Nathan, she’d once said he and his brother only had looks in common. Maybe that meant his brother was nicer than him. Maybe he’d be open to answering her questions. She had to find him. In fact, the longer she thought about it, the more it seemed finding Andrew Sinclair was the only answer to her current set of problems.
“Do you want to pack an overnight bag?”
Layla looked up. Nathan stood in the open doorway, having apparently sent the police officers on their way and was now waiting for her answer.
***
To Layla’s pleasant surprise, Nathan didn’t live in a large house or a high rise, but in a converted warehouse loft in the South Side, near historic East Carson Street. However, that pleasant surprise didn’t last long. While the red brick warehouse seemed quaint and vintage on the outside, when he slid open the heavy steel fire door, he revealed a five thousand square foot space that looked like the home version of his office. It was filled with heavy black furniture. In the open-plan kitchen, nearly every appliance, large and small, was made out of grey stainless steel, including the square knobs on the wood cabinets, which had been painted over with black lacquer. There wasn’t anything in the entire place that couldn’t be described as either sleek or modern down to the slate grey cork flooring.
“Wow,” she said, looking around. “This is certainly…you.”
But he wasn’t listening, because he was too busy typing on his smartphone in the office area on the other side of the kitchen.
“The guest bathroom is over there if you need to freshen up,” he said. His voice echoed slightly in the large space.
“Thanks,” she called back. Layla wouldn’t mind a long bath after the night she’d had. “But, um, where’s the guest bed?”
He still hadn’t looked up from his phone. “I don’t have one.”
Layla’s eyes went from side to side. “You have two bathrooms, but you only have one bed?”
He shrugged. “I’m not big on entertaining guests or sharing my space.”
Layla held up a hand. “So let me get this straight. You bought an obnoxiously large loft, filled it with black furniture, and only got one bed, so you wouldn’t ever have to put up with anyone who wasn’t here to have sex with you?”
He chuckled. “Why do you think they call it a bachelor pad?”
She started to say something smart, but then thought twice. She was here to snoop around for Andrew Sinclair’s contact information, she reminded herself, not to insult him. Instead she went over to the large black wrap-around couch and said, “Thank you for having me. I appreciate it, and I don’t mind sleeping on the couch at all.”
Now he looked up, his cold grey eyes almost glittering in the loft’s dim light. “You’re not sleeping on the couch.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly let you take the couch. Really, I’m fine sleeping here. It looks like a really great couch. Soft…”
The words died in her throat, as he laid his phone down on the office desk and started walking across the large space toward her. He paused for a few seconds, but only to strip off his suit jacket and toss it onto the couch that, according to him, she wouldn’t be sleeping on. There was absolutely no mistaking his intentions, and Layla once again had to tamp down opposite urges to run and stay rooted to the spot.
Rooted to the spot won out, and she ended up feeling like caught prey when he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her to him for a kiss that pushed all thoughts of sleeping on the couch out of her head.
CHAPTER TEN
THIS was not how Nathan had expected the night to go. Growing up the scion of an old money family, life experience had taught him you could make any problem go away if you threw enough money at it. He had thought he’d get Layla to sign the contract and leave on his terms before the Sinclair Ball and his brother’s return to town. But instead he’d ended up spending the majority of his evening furious at whoever had spray painted “LEAVE” on her door. For the first time in his entire life, he felt compelled to protect someone other than himself.
She had looked so scared outside of that apartment door, for a few seconds he had actually wished he could be more like Andrew, a nurturer by nature, someone who knew exactly what to say and do when women got upset. Instead, he had invited her back to his place, with a somewhat vague plan to keep his hands off of her for at least twenty-four hours, even if she was sleeping in his bed. He had never been a gentleman, but he had figured he could play the part since Layla was shaken up.