A Fare To Remember: Just Whistle\Driven To Distraction\Taken For A Ride (2 page)

So he drank his second espresso, munched on a flaky
pastelito
and listened to Iris’s favorite Celia Cruz CD while some guys in dreadlocks went strolling by. At times like this he wondered what the folks back in Auburn, Illinois, would make of it all. No one in his family had expressed any desire to visit, so he’d had to make trips home in order to see them.

Because that only happened about once a year, he’d constructed his own little support group in Manhattan, and Iris was definitely included. He would hate to think she’d fallen on hard times. Maybe he could smoke out some information on her financial picture and see if he could guide her in some way.

He waited until she’d served a couple who looked like they might be honeymooners judging from the way they held hands and couldn’t stop gazing at each other. Their obvious affection sent a pang of regret running through him. Adrienne had never looked at him that way, which should have given him a clue.

When the coast was clear, he wandered closer to the coffee stand. “I hope your tax guy advised you to take a deduction for your CD player and the music you buy,” he said. “That’s an integral part of your business.”

Iris nodded as she tucked money in her cash drawer. “I have many deductions,
mijo.
”

“That’s good. Keeping a business afloat isn’t easy these days. You need all the breaks you can get.”

Iris smiled. “
Sì.
I’m lucky that people like my coffee and my
pastelitos
so I won’t end up a beggar when I’m old.”

She said it with such confidence that Zach had to believe she was solvent. That left him still wondering why she’d urged him to spend more at her coffee stand this morning.

“Aha! Here’s Mario!” Iris sounded delighted, as usual. No doubt there was a romance blossoming there.

Zach was also happy to see the guy. A chance cab ride with Mario about a year ago had resulted in a growing friendship, and Zach considered Mario part of his New York family, too. Mario had introduced Zach to this little piece of espresso heaven, and Zach always enjoyed running into him here.

“Hey, Mario.” Zach brushed the crumbs from his fingers and held out his hand. “How’s it going?”

“Can’t complain.” Mario shook hands before glancing over at Iris. He touched the brim of his Giants cap in greeting. “Morning, Iris. That’s a good color on you.”

“
Ai,
this old thing?” Iris blushed like a teenager as she looked down at her red blouse. “Your eyes are tired from being up all night. You need coffee so you can see better.” She reached for the small porcelain espresso cup she kept especially for him.

“My eyesight’s fine, but I’ll need that coffee to go,” Mario said.

“Oh.” Iris’s smile faded.

“I’m giving Zach a ride to the office. I’ll be back.”

“Oh.”
Iris’s smile returned.

“You don’t need to give me a ride.” Zach didn’t want to get in the way of this flirtation. “The bus is almost here. I’ll just—”

“Ah, get in the cab and pretend you’re a rich guy.” Mario picked up the foam cup Iris handed him and used it to gesture toward the curb where he’d parked. “I need to discuss a little matter with you.”

Zach shrugged. “If you insist.” He didn’t mind the expense once in a while, especially when the money went to a guy like Mario. Besides, riding in Mario’s cab was an experience. He drove the cab the way he’d probably driven the cruiser when he was a cop, except now he had to substitute the horn for the siren.

Because they were friends, Zach rode in the front, which gave him an excellent view of all the happy couples taped to Mario’s dash. Mario’s romantic streak was touching. Zach had asked him once why he wasn’t married, considering how much he supported the institution.

Turned out Mario had lost his wife some time ago, and still seemed to be hurting. But time had passed, and he definitely seemed interested in Iris. Zach thought the two of them would be good together.

Mario climbed behind the wheel and set his cup in a plastic holder before starting the engine. Then he turned off the meter.

“Hey, I want to pay,” Zach said.

“Nope. This one’s on the house.” Mario gunned the engine and tires screeched as he plunged into traffic.

Zach held on to the armrest for balance, but he wasn’t the least bit nervous. Mario drove fast, but he never wrecked. “If you want a hot stock tip,” Zach said, “you’ll have to wait until I get to the office. But as of last night, your portfolio was looking good. I wouldn’t change anything, but if you want to add, then—”

“This isn’t about the market.” Mario surged through a yellow light, honking the horn to warn off anyone who dared get in his way. “It’s about a woman I picked up at the airport.”

Suddenly Zach understood Iris’s strange behavior and Mario’s offer of a ride to work. “Oh, no.”

“What do you mean,
oh, no?
”

“You’re ready to fix me up with her, aren’t you?”

“Hell, no, I’m not!” Mario veered sharply around a parked van. “She needs some help looking for a job, that’s all.”

“Yeah, sure. Listen, Mario, thanks, but no thanks. I know this is your mission in life, but I have no interest in getting taped to your dash. Forget it.”

“But I only thought—”

“Nope. Nix.
Nyet. Non.
Negative. Not going there, Mario. You’d better dig deep in your Bag o’ Bachelors and come up with another candidate, because I’m so not meeting the woman you picked up at the airport.”

“How can you make a statement like that? Sheesh. And I didn’t even tell you about the tuna!”

CHAPTER TWO

T
HE
P
EARSON
H
OTEL LOBBY
wasn’t much bigger than Hannah’s living room back in Phoenix, and there were exactly two armchairs available. She probably should have guessed that her room wouldn’t be ready at eight-thirty in the morning, but she hadn’t spent much of her life in hotels and wasn’t totally familiar with the routine.

Both lobby chairs were occupied, one by an elderly man reading a newspaper and the other by a young woman filling out a job application. So Hannah stood, being careful not to jostle her duct-taped suitcase. The desk clerk had offered to keep the suitcase in a storage room, but Hannah was afraid it wouldn’t survive being manhandled by a bellhop. She hadn’t seen a bellhop, but this was a New York City hotel, so there had to be a bellhop somewhere on the premises.

Well, this was awkward. The desk clerk had predicted it might be another hour or two before a room became available. She could feel the hum of the city just beyond that lobby door, and she was desperate to get out there and take her first New York City walk.

On the drive in she’d spotted some homeless people who probably could use her tuna. At this point she could use some of that tuna, herself. The peanuts and Coke she’d had on the airplane had worn off quite a while ago. But she had no can opener and she’d also promised herself a hot pretzel from a street vendor once she hit the pavement.

The lobby door opened and she turned to see if it might be the bellhop returning from a coffee break. Whoops, not a bellhop. Not even close to being a bellhop. Instead she was eyeball to eyeball with a gorgeous specimen of New York manhood tricked out in a crisp gray suit, power tie in red-and-gray stripes, and a shirt that looked white at first but upon closer inspection displayed fine vertical lines of gray running through the fabric.

She wondered if he’d dressed to match his eyes, which were the color of campfire smoke. Add to that a movie-idol smile and wavy brown hair. If this guy was staying at the Pearson, she had definitely picked the right hotel.

His gaze moved from her face to the duct-taped suitcase at her feet. “You’re Hannah.”

Her mind clicked rapidly through the possibilities. She only knew one person in New York, and that was the man who had duct-taped her suitcase. He’d promised to mention her to his friend. She wished he’d left out the part about the duct tape.

She swallowed. “And you’re Zach.”

“Right.” He held out his hand. “Zach Evans.”

“Hannah Robertson.” She shook hands with what she hoped was the right amount of firm, businesslike pressure. He was so delectable that she wanted to hang on a while longer, but she didn’t dare. She was supposed to network with this Adonis, not jump his bones.

“I called the hotel and they said you weren’t registered. That got me worried, so I decided to come over and make sure you were okay.”

Hannah’s faith in the desk clerk slipped a notch. They darned well knew she was standing in the lobby. “I tried to register. The room wasn’t ready.” Surely the desk clerk could have said she was here, couldn’t he? Maybe not. She didn’t know New York City hotel procedure.

Zach glanced around the small lobby. “So you’re kind of stuck.”

“Oh, not at all! I was just about to ask them to store my suitcase so I could leave the hotel and explore the city.” To hell with the suitcase and the potential for tuna cans all over the storage room. She was not about to appear helpless and stranded in front of her network, all one of him.

“Oh! Well, that’s a good idea.” He eyed the suitcase. “I guess.”

“It’ll be fine. I know the suitcase looks a little…”

“Compromised?”

“You could say that.” She wouldn’t mind being compromised by Zachary Evans. But she had to cool it. There were probably lots of guys like him walking around this city. He happened to be the first certified NYC hunk she’d seen, so she was probably overreacting. And she was starving, too, which didn’t help.

“You could ask them to tie something around it,” Zach said.

“I’ll do that.” She realized that the networking hadn’t begun yet, and maybe it was up to her to do something about it. “Mario mentioned that you had a contact in publishing.”

“I do. He’s an editor.”

“Really?” Hannah hadn’t expected to be this lucky. “For what house?”

“I can’t remember the name, but I have it at the office. I know they mostly do cookbooks and travel guides. Is that what you’re interested in?”

She was tempted to say yes, just to make the connection stronger, but she hadn’t come all this way to work on cookbooks and travel guides. “I have a degree in English literature. I’m hoping to edit fiction.”

“Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Then Percy might not be the guy to help you.”

“I’d be glad to talk to him, even so.” Maybe she could learn to love cookbooks. No, probably not. She was a nuke-’em-and-scarf-’em-down kind of person. Her theory was if you took enough vitamins and ate tuna once in a while, you’d be okay.

“It could be a waste of time if you’re into fiction.” Zach checked his watch. “Look, I have to get to the office, but I can ask around. Someone else might have a better lead than I do.”

“I hate to put you to the trouble.” Actually, she didn’t. Anything that would keep that tenuous connection between them worked for her. But she had to give him a graceful way out if he wanted to let this go.

“No trouble.” He paused. “If you don’t have other plans, we could go to dinner tonight. I could tell you what I’ve found out.”

Other plans? She’d arrived in the city less than two hours ago! She knew no one! How could she possibly have other plans? But she hesitated, as if considering her packed schedule. “That might work.”

“Seven?”

“Seven would be okay.”

“I’ll ring your room.”

“Great. See you then.” She watched him walk out of the lobby and controlled the urge to jump up and down.

Her first night in New York and she had a date! Not only a date, but one with a guy who came recommended by her very friendly taxi driver. Even better, this highly recommended, date-worthy person looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of
GQ.
New York was going to be
incredible.

M
ARIO RETURNED TO THE
coffee stand feeling smug. Maybe he shouldn’t take credit, though, because he’d been wrong about not leading with the tuna. The tuna had made all the difference. He only hoped this Cupid operation wasn’t too late.

After finding a parking spot near Iris’s stand, he sauntered over, unable to hold back a smile of triumph. He waited until Iris had finished serving an espresso to a long-haired college student toting a heavy backpack.

She counted out change to the student.
“Gracias, señor.”
Then she turned to Mario, her dark eyebrows arched. “Well?”

“He’s calling her this morning.”

“Bueno!”
Iris clapped her hands together. “That boy needs a sweetheart.”

“You’re telling me. He’s so focused on success after Adrienne worked him over that he’s ready to bulldoze some poor guy out of a corner office.”

“That’s bad.”

“It’s not so much him as that boss of his.” Mario took the small porcelain cup of espresso Iris handed him. “Thanks, Iris.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out some money, but she waved it away. “Hey.” He tried again to give her the money. “You can’t be serving me free coffee.”

“You can give free taxi rides but I can’t give free coffee?”

He met the challenge in her dark eyes. She had spirit, and he admired that. “Thank you.”

“
Da nada.
So Zach will take away someone’s job?”

“I don’t know about that, but he definitely has his eye on a big bonus and a better office, which is currently occupied by a guy named Ed. Ed’s older and isn’t producing like he used to. Zach thinks the big boss wants to squeeze Ed out, even though he’s a nice guy and treats his clients great.”

Iris clucked her tongue.

“Yeah, it sucks. I know it happens all the time, but I hate to see Zach buying into it. If he doesn’t watch out, he’ll get as ruthless as the boss.”

“This woman, you think she’ll be good for him, then?”

Mario pictured Hannah Robertson in her yellow sundress and flowered suitcase held together with duct tape. “Oh, yeah. She’s exactly what the doctor ordered.”

A
LL THROUGH THE DAY
Zach kept telling himself that just because he was taking Hannah Robertson to dinner didn’t mean he’d end up taped to Mario’s dash. If and when the time came for him to find someone and settle down, he would do the picking, not some guy who’d seen
Fiddler on the Roof
once too often. Although matchmaking was cute when it happened to other people, Zach wasn’t about to fall for that program.

But a guy would have to be made of stone not to be kind to a woman who brought cans of tuna to New York so she could pass them out to the city’s homeless population. It also didn’t hurt that she’d looked like a ray of sunshine standing in that dingy hotel lobby. Her red hair was glorious, a deep copper color. She also had brown eyes, which might explain why her sundress had revealed a golden tan rather than pale skin dotted with freckles.

Taking Hannah Robertson to dinner would be no hardship. Getting her the right publishing contacts might be. Zach had asked around, and the consensus seemed to be that Ed had a client who was a publishing bigwig. This was the day that Drake Medford would inform Ed that he would probably be losing his corner office come the first of the month. Under the circumstances, Zach thought asking Ed for a personal favor today was just wrong.

So he’d called his cookbook guy and milked that contact for a couple of tenuous leads. It wasn’t much, but it was better than going to dinner empty-handed.

Partly because he didn’t have much to tell her and partly because he kept thinking of how good she’d looked in yellow, he bought a bouquet of daisies and yellow roses before hopping on the bus that would take him to the stop closest to the Pearson. Going to dinner with Hannah was turning out to be the best part of his day. Every time he’d passed Ed’s office he’d cringed at the idea that he was driving the guy out. Although he’d told himself not to worry, he was worrying, anyway.

So dinner was a terrific distraction. He’d made reservations at a Thai place on Restaurant Row, and they could walk there and back from her hotel. He wasn’t opposed to taking a cab, but Mario wasn’t on duty yet and Zach had become picky about his cabs after riding with Mario.

Fire trucks drove screaming past the bus as it stopped where Zach wanted off. When the sirens abruptly quit, Zach paused at the front of the bus, bouquet in hand, to lean down and peer through the bus’s windshield to see where the trucks had ended up. Damn it, the fire trucks, lights flashing, sat smack-dab in front of the Pearson!

Galloping down the steps to the pavement, Zach headed off at a run. The Pearson wasn’t as tall as some hotels, but tall enough, more than thirty stories. The fire escapes were probably old and rusty. A horrible image of Hannah dangling from a rope made of knotted sheets made his stomach churn.

Hotel guests came streaming out of the tiny lobby as the firefighters went charging in. Zach couldn’t see any smoke, but that didn’t mean anything. The fire could be in a hallway or an elevator shaft. Now he could hear the hotel’s fire alarm, a grating beep, beep, beep that sent sweat running down his spine.

Then Hannah—barefoot and wearing a thin flowered bathrobe—came out of the hotel. Relief emptied his lungs, making him dizzy as he stood a few feet away catching his breath. Now that he could see she was fine, he felt a little silly. He’d pretty much overreacted, considering he barely knew her.

What was that all about? It was probably Mario’s fault. The guy had portrayed Hannah as an innocent plopped down into the big, bad city. The message had been clear—Zach was supposed to be her knight in shining armor.

He’d thought that message had rolled right off his back, and yet the evidence said otherwise. When he hadn’t been able to reach her this morning he’d hopped a bus and dashed over to make sure she was okay. Then he’d raced to the hotel because a couple of fire trucks were sitting there. And he still hadn’t seen any smoke.

Hannah looked upset, though. Wending her way through the guests, she padded over to a fireman stationed by the front door and started an earnest conversation, waving her arms as she talked. Zach couldn’t help but notice how sexy she looked standing there in her bathrobe and bare feet, her hair catching the glow from the revolving lights on top of the fire engine.

Finally he decided to walk over and make his presence known. Everything she owned could be going up in flames right now. He pictured himself taking out his credit card, just like in the commercials, and buying her a new wardrobe while “My Girl” played in the background. It was a stupid idea, but it ran through his head, anyway.

As he walked toward her, she stuck her hands in the pockets of the bathrobe and gazed up at the fireman. “So I’m really, really sorry,” she said. “But the room smelled so stale and musty.”

“Next time, buy some Glade, lady.” The fireman turned away and clicked a button on the walkie-talkie clipped to his shoulder. “Sammy, check out Room 538. Seems one of the guests was burning sage as an air freshener. That could be the problem.”

Zach groaned. Far from being the victim, Hannah had been the perp.

At the sound, she turned and gasped. “Zach! Omigod, is it seven already?”

“Five after.” Zach tried not to stare at her cleavage, but the bathrobe had gaped open and he could see…a lot. He now knew that she was wearing a black lace bra with a front clasp, that she had no discernible tan line so she might have been out in the sun topless, and that she had a cute little mole on her left breast.

“I am
so
embarrassed. The room didn’t smell good, so I found a little shop that sells incense and stuff. Sage works great at home. I was afraid the smoke was a little too heavy, so I tried to get the window open but it was painted shut.” She gestured around her. “You see what happened.”