One Summer In New York. Trish Wylie

were scoured clean—save for a little residual blue around the cuticles and under the nails. As usual. She reached for the fluffy towel hanging on the rack.

      Next, Holly wanted to get her jacket off before she tackled washing her face. She unzipped the sleek and stylish black leather jacket she had bought at the shopping mall in Fort Pierce yesterday. With Florida’s mild climate, there hadn’t been a lot of selection, but she’d needed something warm for New York. When she’d seen it, she’d known it was the one for her.

      Ricky the Rat would have hated it. He’d have said it was highfalutin’. Yeah, well, falute this! Decisions were going to be made by her, for her from now on. Not based on what other people wanted or thought.

      After her face was scrubbed she towel-dried her bangs and peeled off her ponytail band. Fluffed out the dark hair that had grown far past her shoulders. With the longer hair, she realized she already had a new look. New hair. New jacket. New city. She was ready for a new life.

      Giving a yank on her tee shirt and a tug on her jeans, she was more than a little concerned about how she’d look to Ethan when she went back into the living room. Which was, of course, completely ridiculous because she didn’t even know him.

      * * *

      My, my, but Holly Motta cleaned up well. Distracted by the blue paint on her face, Ethan hadn’t noticed the other blue. The crystal color of her eyes. How they played against her lush jet-black hair.

      As soon as she returned from the bathroom a rush of energy swept through the living room. He didn’t know what kind of magic she held, but it wasn’t like anything he had been in the same space with before.

      All he could mutter was, “Better?”

      It wasn’t really a question.

      He was glad he had nabbed a tee shirt from the bedroom, although he was still barefoot.

      “Yes, thanks.” She slid past him to her luggage, still at the front door.

      He reached for his computer tablet and tapped the screen. Best to get Holly out of the apartment right now. For starters, he had no idea who she was. Ethan knew firsthand that there were all sorts of liars and scammers in this world, no matter how innocent they might look. He had his family’s company to protect. The company that he was to run.

      As soon as he could get his aunt Louise to retire.

      As if a heart attack hadn’t been enough, his beloved aunt was now losing her balance and mobility due to a rare neurological disorder that caused lack of feeling in her feet. Benton Worldwide’s annual shareholders’ gala was this Saturday. Ethan hoped Aunt Louise didn’t have any bruises on her face from the fall he’d heard she’d taken last week.

      Ethan owed everything to Aunt Louise and to Uncle Melvin, who had passed away five years ago. Without them he would just have been an abandoned child with no one to guide him toward a future.

      His aunt had only one final request before she retired from the company that she, Uncle Mel and Ethan’s late father had spent fifty years growing into an empire. She wanted to be sure that Ethan was settled in all areas of his life. Then she’d feel that everything was in its right place before she stepped down and let him take over. One last component to the family plan.

      Ethan had lied to his aunt by claiming that he’d found what she wanted him to have. But he hadn’t. So he had a lot to take care of in the next few days.

      His temples pulsed as he thought about it all. Commotion was not an option. This exhilarating woman who had blown into the apartment needed to leave immediately. Not to mention the fact that there was something far too alluring about her that he had to get away from. Fast.

      On top of it all he had a conference call in a few minutes that he still had to prepare for.

      But with a few swipes across the tablet’s screen he confirmed that all the Benton properties in New York were occupied.

      Holly slung her jacket on the coat rack by the door and sat down on the floor. After pulling off one, then the other, she tossed her boots to the side. Ethan was mesmerized by her arms as they rummaged through her bag. She seemed to be made up only of elongated loose limbs that bent freely in every direction. Lanky. Gangly, even.

      Downright adorable.

      Nothing about Holly was at all like the rigid, hoity-toity blondes he usually kept company with. Women who were all wrong for him. Since he wasn’t looking for someone right, that didn’t matter. It kept his aunt happy to see him dating. But, of course, now he had told Aunt Louise that was all coming to an end. And he had a plan as to how to cover that lie.

      Under her boots, Holly was wearing one red sock and one striped. She rolled those off and wiggled her toes. “That feels good...” She sighed, as if to herself.

      Ethan’s mouth quirked. “Miss Motta, please do not make yourself at home.”

      “I have nowhere else to go.”

      Holly death-stared him right in the face, putting on her best tough guy act. In reality she looked terrified that he was going to throw her out. She’d already been in tears before she washed up.

      “Can’t you be the one to leave?”

      His stern expression melted a bit. What was he going to do? Toss her out into the cold rain?

      She said she didn’t know anyone in New York that she could stay with. Funny, but he didn’t either. There were dozens—hundreds—of colleagues and workers in the city, connected with various Benton projects. Yet no one he’d call late on a rainy night to see if they had a sofa or guest room he could use.

      Ridiculous. He’d sooner go back to the airport and sleep on his private jet.

      He could pay for Holly’s hotel room. Or he supposed he himself could go to a hotel. But—good heavens. He’d been in flight all day, had already unpacked and undressed here. Why on earth should he leave his own property?

      “I do not suppose it will do for either of us to try to find other accommodation at this late hour.”

      “What’s your plan, then?”

      Ethan always had a plan. His life was structured around plans. He was about to embark on his biggest yet—moving Aunt Louise into retirement and taking the CEO seat.

      “We will both spend the night here.”

      “Oh, no, I couldn’t. I’m sure you’re a very nice per—”

      “I assure you, Miss Motta, I have no motive other than getting a peaceful night’s rest. You will sleep in the bedroom and I will make do out here.” He gestured toward the sofa.

      “I need to think about that. That doesn’t seem right. Maybe I should call my brother. Let me just get my things straightened out.” Holly returned to her task of sorting out her duffel bag, quarantining paint-stained items in a plastic bag.

      She didn’t look up at him until she lifted out a pair of white socks. They were splattered with the same blue that had been disguising her lovely face. “Occupational hazard.”

      “You are a painter, I take it?”

      “Yup.”

      “And you have come to New York to pursue fame and fortune?”

      “Ha! That would be nice. Who wouldn’t want their work to hang in a museum or a gallery here...?”

      “I sense there is a but at the end of that.”

      “I’ve been making money doing large pieces and collections for corporate properties.”

      “Office art, lobby art, art for furnished apartments?”

      Ethan was well aware of that kind of work. He’d spent many hours with interior designers making decisions about the art at Benton developments all over the world.

      “Indeed, the right pieces are vitally important to a unified decor. They