One Summer In New York. Trish Wylie

now, she needed to get some sleep.

      She stopped short at the sight of the room’s king-size bed. This was where Ethan Benton had been planning to lay that tall, sturdy frame of his tonight. A wiggle shot up her spine at the mental image of him stretched out on this bed. Perhaps only wearing the plaid pajama bottoms as when she’d first seen him on the sofa.

      On the bed she counted one, two...eight plush pillows, overlapped in a tidy row against the brown leather headboard. She imagined Ethan’s head against those pillows, with that curl of hair tousled on his forehead.

      The luxury pillowcases alternated in color, tan then black. Which coordinated with the tightly fitted tan sheets. She ran a finger along the black duvet, tracing it down the right side of the bed. Then across the bottom. Then up the left. It was all too matchy-matchy for her tastes, but clearly made of expensive fabrics.

      She eyed the wall-to-wall closet. If she took Ethan up on his proposal it would become filled with designer gowns for glamorous black tie dinners. Trendy separates for groundbreaking ceremonies. Classic sportswear for sailing jaunts and tennis tournaments. The finest shoes and purses and jewels.

      None of that was her. She couldn’t picture it. Not even for make-believe.

      Back on earth, Holly didn’t know whether she should unpack her suitcase full of jeans, comfortable skirts and tee shirts. She slid the blond wood closet door open to see if anything was inside.

      Four men’s suits hung neatly on wooden hangers, with breathing room in between each. Dark gray, light gray, navy pinstripe and a beautiful maroon. They looked to be Ethan’s size. He’d probably look especially handsome in that maroon. It would go well with his brown eyes and that brown hair with its speckles of red.

      There were freshly laundered shirts. Complementary ties. Polished shoes. A tuxedo and its accessories. Two pairs of pressed jeans. A pair of casual boots. She resisted the temptation to open any drawers. She had seen an overcoat and a leather jacket on the coat rack by the front door.

      It wasn’t a large wardrobe. Ethan had said he traveled a lot, but hadn’t mentioned how long he was staying in New York.

      She fingered the lapel of the maroon suit jacket. Ricky the Rat had only owned one wrinkly black suit. She could count on one hand the times he’d worn it. He was the jeans and workboots type. There were times she’d thought he was sexy.

      One of the times he hadn’t been sexy was when she’d come home from work early one day and the workboots were all he’d had on. While he was in bed with their neighbor Kiki.

      The rain was heavier outside now. Holly watched the bedroom window being pounded with sheets of the downpour. A rumble of thunder emphasized the storm’s strength. Good. Let it wash away her past.

      Deciding to leave her suitcase on the floor for the night, she pulled back the duvet on the bed and climbed into the king-size reminder of the man who was already making her feel as if she were spiraling away from her old life. Even though her encounter with him would come to an end in the morning, her transition to something new had begun.

      The bed was divine. The mattress firm. The sheets crisp. She pulled the thick cover over her. Beyond comfortable, she nestled in the oasis, away from cares and plans. It was a peaceful heaven on earth after such a long day. Time to rest her body and mind. She was going to sleep like a log...

      Two hours later Holly tossed and turned with exasperation. She hadn’t kept her eyes shut for more than a minute before her brain had assaulted her with more and more opinions.

      What Ethan was proposing could be her lucky break. A commission to do the artwork for his big development in Chelsea... A chance to really get started in New York...

      She’d come to the city armed with work references, but the life of an artist could be tricky. Maybe nothing would pan out from the names and phone numbers she’d collected. Or she’d get small jobs here and there but they might not lead to anything else.

      Ethan’s proposition was a multi-phase project that would probably be six months of work at least. In that time she could really put down roots here.

      She was determined to make her entire living as an artist. Not to have to work anymore as a maid or a nanny during the lean times. Her goals were clear. New York was the place where dreams were made or broken. If it didn’t work out here, so be it—but she was certainly going to take her shot.

      Imagine how much easier it would be without any astronomical rent to pay. New York apartment prices were notoriously high. Holly knew that she would probably have to live with a roommate. Maybe several of them. Some might have come to New York for the twenty-four-hour-a-day lifestyle, for the party that never ended. The household might be full of noise and people and activity at all hours of the day and night. It might prevent Holly from getting her work done or resting when she needed to.

      Or she might end up with people who were slobs. Not able to tolerate a dirty mess, she would end up cleaning up after them. Cleaning up after people—how much of her life had she already spent doing that? She’d never minded taking care of her brother, but her ex-husband hadn’t ever seemed even to know where the trash can or the washing machine were. Nor had her mother.

      Maybe these roommate slobs wouldn’t pay their share of their rent and she’d get evicted. She might end up having to move from place to place through no fault of her own. That would be maddening.

      Ethan was offering work and a place to live. This tasteful apartment all to herself. It was one thing to be allowed to stay here while she looked for a place. It was quite another to have it belong to her. She could paint here. Reposition the furniture in the living room to make the most of the natural light.

      Wait a minute.

      Part of Ethan’s bargain was that he would pay her. She would be able to afford to rent studio space. A New York artist with her own studio... If that wasn’t a dream come true!

      But on the other hand...

      And she needed to consider...

      She couldn’t really...

      And then what...?

      When Holly opened her eyes, a drizzly morning sky crept in through the window. At some point she had finally dozed off, her mind twirling about the past and what the future could hold. Now, with morning’s dawn in Ethan Benton’s bedroom, certainty hit her like a ton of bricks.

      If something seemed too good to be true, it was.

      Not cut out to be anyone’s pretend anything, Holly was only who she was. Ethan was kidding himself. It could only end in disaster. She would do him a favor by acknowledging the impossibility of his proposal, even though he wasn’t able to see it for himself.

      His judgment was clouded by his deep love for his aunt Louise. How touching was his concern for her welfare, for her reputation and her happiness. Blood ran thick. A good man took his family responsibilities seriously...

      She had to call her brother. She wouldn’t tell him about Ethan’s offer. But she did need his help sorting out this confusion about her staying in the apartment. It would be good to hear his voice. In the end, he was the only one she really had in her corner.

      He’d be working out in the garage of the little house he rented in Miami. Lifting weights. Bench pressing and hoisting dumbbells before showering and getting to work at Benton.

      “Vinz.” She pictured him, no doubt in a muscle shirt drenched in sweat. His close-cropped blond hair so unlike her black. The round blue eyes marking him as her kin.

      “Holz! How’s the Big Apple so far?”

      She explained the mix-up with the apartment.

      Vince promised to make some calls as soon as he got into the office. “I’ll get it fixed,” he assured her.

      “I don’t know if you can.”

      “Listen to me, big sis. We’re going to sniff out opportunities for you and you’re going take them. You’ll