Chapter 1 Cooper panted heavily as they neared the green canopy signaling the entrance to Nicole’s building. At the start of their walk, he surged ahead to get outside and tugged incessantly at her arm to explore every inch of 5th Avenue and the surrounding blocks. Now, in stark contrast, he walked sedately beside her, excited only for a long, noisy slurp of water and the Greenie he would receive when they got back home. She vowed to bring some water in a backpack on the next walk so he didn’t have so long to wait. She transferred the brown paper bag to her leash hand and pulled open the tall door to her building. Cooper led her into the lobby where the cool air washed over her in instant relief from the August late morning heat. What a tiny lobby for such a costly apartment, she thought. That bothered her nearly every time she passed through. She tried to let it go but it was an irritant she couldn’t forgive. Compared to the apartment in her previous building, well- appointed by anyone’s standards, the apartment upstairs was extraordinary. For size, quality, and location in New York City, it had little real competition. But the lobby, please. Today, someone unfamiliar sat on the hideous sofa to her right, probably waiting for a resident to come down. She transferred the bag back to her right hand and followed her sedate best friend toward the elevators. The man at the concierge desk, Daragh, looked up and offered a perfunctory smile. He was a handsome man with a military buzz cut growing out and deep green eyes that always lingered too long on her. He was never overly friendly; always showed the right amount of deference and even indifference, but in a respectful manner. He knew his place. In a moment of weakness, she let her eyes roam over the bulge of biceps and chest filling out the dark business suit and the wedge shape formed by his broad shoulders. She gawked for only a second, not nearly enough time for him to notice, before looking back into his eyes. She reined Cooper to a stop. “Do you have a package for me today, Daragh?” “I do, Miss Foster,” came his raspy reply. She affected a doleful pout that usually worked with her father, and, most other men, now that she thought about it. “My hands are full. Do you think you could bring it up for me?” She could see his jaw clench before he pulled his lips into a grim smile. To his credit, he maintained a professional demeanor despite the unusual request. This wasn’t in his job description and Nicole knew it. “Uh, sure. I’ll bring it up when I start my lunch break.” “Thanks,” Nicole said, walking away before he could finish his sentence. She and Cooper rode the elevator alone to the 15th floor and slid her keycard through the slot to open the doors. In a well-practiced ritual between owner and dog, she unhooked the leash and Cooper’s energy rallied enough for him to blast away at half speed toward the kitchen. She hung the leash on a hook by the elevator door and followed his lead. She found him at his water dish in the pantry off the kitchen. She put the brown paper bag in one of the fridges and reached for the bag of treats. Nicole pulled a Greenie out and snapped it in two. Cooper’s ears pricked up and, noisy lapping forgotten, he performed an airborne about-face to rush to her side. “Spin,” she said, holding one half of the treat aloft. Cooper performed a clumsy pirouette, toenails ticking on the marble floor, spinning all the way around to face her again. Nicole tossed the treat in the air and he jumped to meet it, easily snapping it up. He quickly chewed and swallowed it and she held the other half in front of him. “Back up.” Cooper dipped his head and took a half step back. “Back up,” she repeated. He again dipped his head and shuffled back in an ungainly approximation of a show horse. “Good boy.” She tossed the second half, which he again caught in midair. Ritual complete, Cooper took the fruits of his performance to his water dish to finish chewing. Nicole checked the time; she had about thirty minutes before the concierge brought up her package. Just enough time to wash off the sweat and grime of the New York City streets. The phone rang twenty-five minutes later, just as she was towel-drying her hair. “Hello.” “I’m heading up now, Miss Foster,” came Daragh’s raspy voice. “Okay, I’ll open the elevator for you.” She tossed the wet towel on the floor and walked from her room to the hallway that housed the elevators. As she waited, she studied the three oil paintings hanging on the wall opposite the doors. The center painting showed a blossoming cherry tree with its pinkish white flowers overshadowing the green grass and blue sky. Brownish- black limbs stretched past the border of the canvas on both sides to enter the scene on the outer two pictures, boasting pinkish white blossoms of their own. The set of three completed the image, shifting the overall focus back to the landscape behind. She loved these paintings, even though they were a pale second to those hanging in the gallery down the hall. A muted ding announced the elevator and an involuntary shiver of excitement ran through her for her package. She pressed the button and the doors slowly parted. They revealed the concierge holding a twelve-inch square corrugated box with a small white label visible on the side. He wore the same grim smile as in the lobby. “I’ve got your package, Miss Foster.” “It's about fucking time,” she spat out. The grim smile fell to reveal the scowl hiding behind it. “Hey, I’m not your personal assistant.” The deep bass of his voice combined with that growl- like raspiness sent a shiver through her. Undaunted by the show of hostility from the tall, muscular powerhouse of a man, she took a step forward. “Oh yeah? Come over here and say that.” Daragh stepped out of the elevator and closed the few feet between them. He stood a foot taller than her as he looked down. “I’m. Not. Your. Personal. Assistant,” he said, sounding out each word individually with a full stop after each. With her neck cranked all the way back, she stared fearlessly into his eyes, close enough to feel the puffs of breath as he barked out the words. Tense seconds ticked by in their standoff until she broke the thick silence. “Your cologne is killing me. I can’t wait any longer.” She knocked the empty box from his hands and pressed herself against him, kissing him on the lips as his arms wrapped around her body. This lasted only moments. He lifted her easily in a bear hug and carried her away from the closing elevator door and the three blossoming oil paintings. She made tiny moaning sounds as they continued to kiss, enjoying the strange sensation of flying backward down the closet-lined hallway. The next door took them into her bedroom. He effectively avoided the piles of clothing and the clutter of life on the floor to drop her on the unmade bed and begin tearing off his suit. Nicole pushed the robe open, revealing her lack of clothing beneath. She wiggled out of the sleeves, then scooted back to a centered position on the bed. She watched as he kicked off his pants and quickly slid the jockey shorts down to the floor. She eyed his raw, naked perfection with a racing heart before barking out in a husky breath, “Get over here.” Daragh quickly complied. *** “Thanks for picking up lunch,” Daragh said as he placed the Styrofoam container into the empty box and interlocked the four cardboard flaps to loosely seal it. Nicole wore pink lounging shorts and a white designer tee shirt which she’d put on as Daragh went to the kitchen to get the food. The brown paper bag she’d carried up with her after walking Cooper sat sideways on the bed and she was digging into a white container next to her. “These are the best fries I’ve ever tasted and they’re not even hot.” “Great sex will do that to you.” He leaned down to kiss her. “This apartment is huge. I almost got lost finding the kitchen.” “I’ll give you a full tour sometime when you’re not in a hurry.” She popped another fry into her mouth. “Yeah, I’ve got to get back downstairs.” “Wait a minute,” she said after swallowing the fry. “We have to talk.” Daragh pulled his sleeve back to look at his watch. “Okay, let’s make it fast.” “My dad will be back on Sunday so we’re going to have to start being careful. This can only happen when I give you the signal.” He lifted the box slightly higher. “The ruse with the package delivery is fun, but can’t you just text me?” Her head was shaking before he finished his question. “No, he checks my phone. Twenty-two years old and he still checks my phone. He says if I want to live here and want him to keep paying for a degree from Columbia, I need to follow his rules.” “You barely see him for those first twenty years and now he wants to play the strict father? Seems odd.” “Well, free room and board in this amazing apartment and a full ride at Columbia; I can put up with his rules for a while.” He nodded. “I get it. It's only a couple more years until you get your law degree.” “Thanks for understanding. So, if I know when he’s leaving, I’ll tell you I’m expecting a package afterward. So, if I say ‘I’m expecting a package this morning,’ then he’s already gone and the coast is clear. If I tell you I’m expecting a package in the afternoon, he’s going to be there until after lunch. If I don’t say anything, he’s not going anywhere.” Daragh nodded his understanding and leaned down to kiss her once again. “Got it, but people are going to wonder why you get so many packages.” He smiled and winked. “Gotta go.” He turned and hurried from her bedroom carrying the cardboard box with him. Nicole closed her food container and pushed herself from the bed. Grabbing it, she began her trek to the kitchen to warm her lunch in the microwave.

Chapter 1 Cooper panted heavily as they neared the green canopy signaling the entrance to Nicole’s building. At the start of their walk, he surged ahead to get outside and tugged incessantly at her arm to explore every inch of 5th Avenue and the surrounding blocks. Now, in stark contrast, he walked sedately beside her, excited only for a long, noisy slurp of water and the Greenie he would receive when they got back home. She vowed to bring some water in a backpack on the next walk so he didn’t have so long to wait. She transferred the brown paper bag to her leash hand and pulled open the tall door to her building. Cooper led her into the lobby where the cool air washed over her in instant relief from the August late morning heat. What a tiny lobby for such a costly apartment, she thought. That bothered her nearly every time she passed through. She tried to let it go but it was an irritant she couldn’t forgive. Compared to the apartment in her previous building, well-appointed by anyone’s standards, the apartment upstairs was extraordinary. For size, quality, and location in New York City, it had little real competition. But the lobby, please. Today, someone unfamiliar sat on the hideous sofa to her right, probably waiting for a resident to come down. She transferred the bag back to her right hand and followed her sedate best friend toward the elevators. The man at the concierge desk, Daragh, looked up and offered a perfunctory smile. He was a handsome man with a military buzz cut growing out and deep green eyes that always lingered too long on her. He was never overly friendly; always showed the right amount of deference and even indifference, but in a respectful manner. He knew his place. In a moment of weakness, she let her eyes roam over the bulge of biceps and chest filling out the dark business suit and the wedge shape formed by his broad shoulders. She gawked for only a second, not nearly enough time for him to notice, before looking back into his eyes. She reined Cooper to a stop. “Do you have a package for me today, Daragh?” “I do, Miss Foster,” came his raspy reply. She affected a doleful pout that usually worked with her father, and, most other men, now that she thought about it. “My hands are full. Do you think you could bring it up for me?” She could see his jaw clench before he pulled his lips into a grim smile. To his credit, he maintained a professional demeanor despite the unusual request. This wasn’t in his job description and Nicole knew it. “Uh, sure. I’ll bring it up when I start my lunch break.” “Thanks,” Nicole said, walking away before he could finish his sentence. She and Cooper rode the elevator alone to the 15th floor and slid her keycard through the slot to open the doors. In a well- practiced ritual between owner and dog, she unhooked the leash and Cooper’s energy rallied enough for him to blast away at half speed toward the kitchen. She hung the leash on a hook by the elevator door and followed his lead. She found him at his water dish in the pantry off the kitchen. She put the brown paper bag in one of the fridges and reached for the bag of treats. Nicole pulled a Greenie out and snapped it in two. Cooper’s ears pricked up and, noisy lapping forgotten, he performed an airborne about-face to rush to her side. “Spin,” she said, holding one half of the treat aloft. Cooper performed a clumsy pirouette, toenails ticking on the marble floor, spinning all the way around to face her again. Nicole tossed the treat in the air and he jumped to meet it, easily snapping it up. He quickly chewed and swallowed it and she held the other half in front of him. “Back up.” Cooper dipped his head and took a half step back. “Back up,” she repeated. He again dipped his head and shuffled back in an ungainly approximation of a show horse. “Good boy.” She tossed the second half, which he again caught in midair. Ritual complete, Cooper took the fruits of his performance to his water dish to finish chewing. Nicole checked the time; she had about thirty minutes before the concierge brought up her package. Just enough time to wash off the sweat and grime of the New York City streets. The phone rang twenty-five minutes later, just as she was towel-drying her hair. “Hello.” “I’m heading up now, Miss Foster,” came Daragh’s raspy voice. “Okay, I’ll open the elevator for you.” She tossed the wet towel on the floor and walked from her room to the hallway that housed the elevators. As she waited, she studied the three oil paintings hanging on the wall opposite the doors. The center painting showed a blossoming cherry tree with its pinkish white flowers overshadowing the green grass and blue sky. Brownish-black limbs stretched past the border of the canvas on both sides to enter the scene on the outer two pictures, boasting pinkish white blossoms of their own. The set of three completed the image, shifting the overall focus back to the landscape behind. She loved these paintings, even though they were a pale second to those hanging in the gallery down the hall. A muted ding announced the elevator and an involuntary shiver of excitement ran through her for her package. She pressed the button and the doors slowly parted. They revealed the concierge holding a twelve-inch square corrugated box with a small white label visible on the side. He wore the same grim smile as in the lobby. “I’ve got your package, Miss Foster.” “It's about fucking time,” she spat out. The grim smile fell to reveal the scowl hiding behind it. “Hey, I’m not your personal assistant.” The deep bass of his voice combined with that growl-like raspiness sent a shiver through her. Undaunted by the show of hostility from the tall, muscular powerhouse of a man, she took a step forward. “Oh yeah? Come over here and say that.” Daragh stepped out of the elevator and closed the few feet between them. He stood a foot taller than her as he looked down. “I’m. Not. Your. Personal. Assistant,” he said, sounding out each word individually with a full stop after each. With her neck cranked all the way back, she stared fearlessly into his eyes, close enough to feel the puffs of breath as he barked out the words. Tense seconds ticked by in their standoff until she broke the thick silence. “Your cologne is killing me. I can’t wait any longer.” She knocked the empty box from his hands and pressed herself against him, kissing him on the lips as his arms wrapped around her body. This lasted only moments. He lifted her easily in a bear hug and carried her away from the closing elevator door and the three blossoming oil paintings. She made tiny moaning sounds as they continued to kiss, enjoying the strange sensation of flying backward down the closet- lined hallway. The next door took them into her bedroom. He effectively avoided the piles of clothing and the clutter of life on the floor to drop her on the unmade bed and begin tearing off his suit. Nicole pushed the robe open, revealing her lack of clothing beneath. She wiggled out of the sleeves, then scooted back to a centered position on the bed. She watched as he kicked off his pants and quickly slid the jockey shorts down to the floor. She eyed his raw, naked perfection with a racing heart before barking out in a husky breath, “Get over here.” Daragh quickly complied. *** “Thanks for picking up lunch,” Daragh said as he placed the Styrofoam container into the empty box and interlocked the four cardboard flaps to loosely seal it. Nicole wore pink lounging shorts and a white designer tee shirt which she’d put on as Daragh went to the kitchen to get the food. The brown paper bag she’d carried up with her after walking Cooper sat sideways on the bed and she was digging into a white container next to her. “These are the best fries I’ve ever tasted and they’re not even hot.” “Great sex will do that to you.” He leaned down to kiss her. “This apartment is huge. I almost got lost finding the kitchen.” “I’ll give you a full tour sometime when you’re not in a hurry.” She popped another fry into her mouth. “Yeah, I’ve got to get back downstairs.” “Wait a minute,” she said after swallowing the fry. “We have to talk.” Daragh pulled his sleeve back to look at his watch. “Okay, let’s make it fast.” “My dad will be back on Sunday so we’re going to have to start being careful. This can only happen when I give you the signal.” He lifted the box slightly higher. “The ruse with the package delivery is fun, but can’t you just text me?” Her head was shaking before he finished his question. “No, he checks my phone. Twenty-two years old and he still checks my phone. He says if I want to live here and want him to keep paying for a degree from Columbia, I need to follow his rules.” “You barely see him for those first twenty years and now he wants to play the strict father? Seems odd.” “Well, free room and board in this amazing apartment and a full ride at Columbia; I can put up with his rules for a while.” He nodded. “I get it. It's only a couple more years until you get your law degree.” “Thanks for understanding. So, if I know when he’s leaving, I’ll tell you I’m expecting a package afterward. So, if I say ‘I’m expecting a package this morning,’ then he’s already gone and the coast is clear. If I tell you I’m expecting a package in the afternoon, he’s going to be there until after lunch. If I don’t say anything, he’s not going anywhere.” Daragh nodded his understanding and leaned down to kiss her once again. “Got it, but people are going to wonder why you get so many packages.” He smiled and winked. “Gotta go.” He turned and hurried from her bedroom carrying the cardboard box with him. Nicole closed her food container and pushed herself from the bed. Grabbing it, she began her trek to the kitchen to warm her lunch in the microwave.