Sunset In Central Park. Sarah Morgan

a therapist couldn’t sort out given a couple of years.” She pushed her hair back from her face and he reached forward and gently removed her glasses.

      “You don’t need to wear those when you’re with me.”

      “Matt—” She made a wild grab for them but he folded them up and slid them into his pocket.

      “What do you think they do, Frankie? Cover up the fact you have pretty eyes?” They were a washed shade of green and they reminded him of a Scottish hillside or an English garden after a shower of rain. She looked so disconcerted he wanted to hug her. “You need to stop hiding.”

      “I’m not hiding.”

      “You’re hiding. But you don’t ever need to hide from me.” Knowing that he’d pushed her enough for the time being, he turned and put his laptop on the table. “Thanks for feeding Claws. That’s twice in one week. I owe you for the favor, plus extra for danger money.”

      “You don’t owe me anything.” She was balanced on her toes, poised to run, and he decided that the best way to get her to relax was to talk about work.

      “I spent the morning trying to find a horticultural specialist who can step in and replace Victoria. Do you have time to take a look at the plans? I’d love to hear your thoughts.” He was banking on the fact that Frankie was too passionate about her job not to be intrigued by the project that was currently occupying his every waking moment, and he was right.

      “Sure.” The wary expression on her face faded. “Tell me about the project. What was the brief?”

      “Architectural style with sustainability. It’s a multifunctional space. General living, family time, some corporate entertainment. They have a social conscience. Green roofs reduce heating and cooling costs. They’re reducing their carbon footprint. Everybody wins, including me.”

      “It’s not winning if it gives you a nervous breakdown. Couldn’t Victoria have stayed another few weeks to give you a chance to find someone?”

      “Her mother is sick. That has to be her priority. I understand that. Maybe I’m more sympathetic to that than most because of Paige.” He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. Frankie knew all about the health issues his sister had suffered growing up. “It will work out.” He’d learned early on what mattered in life, taught himself to fix what he could fix and find a way to live with what he couldn’t.

      “I made a few calls today.” Her tone was casual. “People I know whose skills are perfect for you. Most of them are busy. One of them will be free in October.”

      Knowing how busy they were at Urban Genie, he was touched. “You did that for me?”

      “You need help.” She dismissed it as nothing but he knew it wasn’t nothing. She’d taken time out of a horrendously busy schedule to try and help him.

      “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

      “You’d do the same for us.”

      He noticed she chose the word us rather than making it more personal.

      Frankie, he was realizing, had a big problem with personal. Far bigger than he’d first thought.

      “The problem is that October is too late for this project. I need someone who can hit the ground running, who knows how I think and who has the same creative vision.”

      “And where are you going to find someone like that?”

      “I’m looking at her.”

      Those green eyes widened. “You mean me?”

      “I saw your expression when I described the project—admit it, you’re interested.”

      “It’s true that roof gardens have their own charms and challenges but I have a job. Urban Genie is in its infancy and—”

      “And you already told me you have a few too many wedding events this summer. You hate them. Delegate those to someone else and come and work with me.” He handed her the plans and saw the panic and indecision in her eyes.

      “I can’t.”

      “Take a look at the plans and think about it. Talk to Paige and Eva. It’s not as if I’m asking you to relocate to Alaska. You can still help with Urban Genie. Just reduce your hands-on work for now. What’s the name of that supplier you’ve been working with?”

      “Buds and Blooms.”

      “You’d be giving them an opportunity to grow their business, you’d be helping me and you’d be doing work you love. Let someone else deal with the froth of weddings. Design me a roof garden. At least think about it. It’s only for the summer. One project.” His gaze caught on a piece of paper on the table. “What’s that? You wrote me a note?”

      She made a strangled sound and scrabbled for the paper. “You can’t read it!”

      “You wrote me a note I’m not supposed to read?”

      “I assumed I’d be gone by the time you read it.” She snatched it from the table, cheeks scarlet.

      “Aren’t you going to at least tell me what it says?”

      “I was apologizing for Saturday, that’s all.” She was adorably flustered and Matt resisted the urge to take the note from her fingers.

      “Why would you feel the need to apologize?”

      “Hey, I don’t know. Maybe because I almost trapped your hand in the door two seconds before I shut you out of your own apartment.” She shoved the paper into the pocket of her jeans and shot toward the door.

      “It’s your apartment.” This time he was determined not to let her leave without finishing the conversation. “You live there.”

      “But you own it.”

      “I made you feel uncomfortable.”

      “It’s not you, it’s me. It’s all me.”

      They reached the door at the same time.

      “Wait.” He planted his hand in the center of the door panel to prevent her leaving and saw her freeze.

      “What are you doing?”

      “I want to say something and I want to do it without worrying about you severing one of my limbs in the door.” He could have stepped back but he didn’t. If what it took to get her to open up to him was to invade her comfort zone, then he’d invade it. But he’d try and invade it as sensitively as possible.

      “Look, I know you think it’s strange that I’d wear glasses when I don’t need them but—”

      “You don’t have to explain.”

      “I do. You’re wondering why on earth anyone would do something that weird.” She’d dipped her head and all he could see was the sweep of her dark lashes and the delicate freckles that dusted her nose like pollen.

      “I’m not wondering that because I already know the answer.”

      “You do?”

      “You think it puts a barrier between yourself and the world. Or rather, men.” The temptation to touch her was almost overwhelming. “What I don’t understand is why you’re so upset that I know.”

      “Because it’s a deeply personal thing.”

      “That’s what a relationship is, Frankie. It’s about knowing the deeply personal things that other people don’t see. We’ve known each other a long time.”

      “And there’s such a thing as ‘too much information.’” If she pressed any closer to the door she would leave an imprint.

      “It’s called intimacy, Frankie. It’s what happens when two people know each other well. And for the record, I don’t think it’s weird.”