Free Nobody's Fool by Sarah Hegger Page A

herself. She wasn’t supposed to want to curl up like a kitten and have Josh make her purr. In her imaginary world, her meeting with him had gone differently. She’d been poised and calm, having concluded a multibillion-dollar deal or received a Nobel Prize for her groundbreaking work in economics. In her scenario she was cool, aloof, and cutting. Also, in her world, Josh was sixty pounds heavier and losing his hair.
    What didn’t happen in Holly land was the emotional roller coaster she’d been on for almost twenty-four hours now. In her little fantasy, she was not fluctuating rapidly between arousal and distrust, gratitude and suspicion, and like and despise. It was rather exhausting, and she might have overreacted.
    â€œI’m sorry,” she called out to the shut door. “I got a fright and took your head off and I’m sorry.”
    Nothing.
    Holly turned away and let out a soft whistle of appreciation. The old loft had been turned into an open-plan condo with exposed brick walls and large industrial ductwork running along the ceiling. One side of the condo boasted floor-to-ceiling vaulted glass windows facing Lake Michigan. A stainless-steel and granite kitchen ran along the opposite wall. The furnishings were minimal. The big leather couches looked comfortable, and the dining room table crouched ready to seat any number from one to twelve.
    One or two large modern canvases took pride of place on the bare brick walls. Holly promised herself a closer inspection in the morning. She turned in a circle and took it in. The condo was beautiful, but there was a sense nobody lived in this space. The kitchen counters were clutter free and spotless; there were no socks or coffee cups left for someone to clean up.
    Holly grabbed the bottle of water and wandered over to an open doorway. It was an office, dominated by a massive oak desk. Again, ruthlessly tidy and contained. The top of the desk was clear of paper and a laptop sat front and center on the leather blotter.
    She crept to the next door and saw a bedroom. Like the rest of the apartment, it was a showpiece. She eased her way into the room.
    All white bedding contrasted sharply with the deep mahogany sheen on the furniture.
    Holly slipped off her shoes and put them carefully beside a formidable tallboy. She stopped and bent to neaten them up. It didn’t help. Her soaked black Converses stuck out like a set of dog’s balls in the pristine perfection of the room.
    A large vase of lilies made dramatic sweeps against the dressing table.
    â€œAh, bugger.” The mirror was not her friend. Her hair hung like a tattered old mop head down her back. Dark, tired smudges underlined her eyes like a raccoon’s, and Josh’s clothes hung on her as if she were a child playing dress up.
    It wasn’t good.
    She edged around the jamb of a door set beside the mirror and peered inside. A black marble and glass bathroom, large enough for a decent frat party, glared at the intruder. The cool floor caressed her feet as Holly tiptoed across it. The shower bristled with chrome. Spigots, showerheads and faucets gleamed at her. It was too much to hope for a simple on/off lever.
    Holly turned away, defeated, and slunk back into the bedroom. A shower would have to wait until the morning. Portia would have to wait, too, and as much as she hated to admit it, she needed sleep. Outside the bedroom window, people were still out and about. The thick glass deadened sound in the condo.
    The bed wasn’t exactly welcoming her with its arctic white, but Holly was past the point of caring. The apartment was cool and comfortable after the humidity of the night, and her feet carried her to where they wanted to be. She should get undressed, but she was warm and dry in her borrowed finery and the idea died instantly. Holly flipped back the duvet and slid beneath in one quick movement, trying not to touch too many surfaces on her way in.
    She gave a small whimper as