In Loving Memory, Frank Warren

Chapter 2: Grand

"Do you have any idea how great the market is in this area?" Dean asked when his building loomed in sight. "Anything within a block of The Grand is prime. I'm talking top dollar and a signature within a week."

"You're in real estate?" It would explain why all their conversations involved architecture or interior design.

"Tell me we're almost there," Dean snapped, "I think I need to check you for a concussion. Did you hit your head when you fell?"

"I didn't fall," Frank protested, pausing in the sidewalk across the street from The Grand. Huge bold turrets, sweeping arches and twinkling lights were the hallmark of the historical theater. Bold theatrical productions still graced its stage which usually lived up to the name. It was Frank's favorite building in the whole city.

"Fantastic, isn't it?" Dean's voice was low, almost reverent. "Nearly a hundred years old, fantastic architecture and still a working theatre. One of the oldest in the country." There was a gentle bump to his arm. "I was serious about the concussion. How much further to your place?"

Turning his back on the beloved Grand, Frank headed for his building. "We're here. And I didn't fall."

"You took a nasty hit without falling? What did the other guy-" Dean's eyes opened wide and his jaw fell slack. "Here? You live here? The Whispering Arms?"

"Wasn't a fabulous hotel but it's a great condo," Frank affirmed.

"Holy crap," Dean breathed as they entered the lobby. After the building went condo a few years ago management spruced up the lobby, restoring it to its 1920s splendor. Too bad they did not spend any of the money to replace Slow Elevator, which was probably as old as the building.

Standing in front of the elevator doors Dean's eyes cut to the side, Frank could feel the heat of his gaze. "Are you going to keep me in suspense?"

Bewildered, he turned to half face Dean. "About what?"

"If you have a view of The Grand. Or a balcony." Eagerness laced his words.

"I'm not selling," Frank protested. "I like it here."

"I'm not saying you should, I'm just saying I know I could get you what it's worth," Dean insisted. "You're going to keep me in suspense, aren't you?"

Slow Elevator chose this moment to open its doors, for once showing a sense of good timing. Holding out an arm to keep them open, he invited his guest to step inside with a wicked grin.

"What does the other guy look like?" Dean asked as the doors crept closed. "You never said."

"Like an asshole," Frank replied, thinking the answer was obvious.

Shaking his head and chuckling, Dean protested, "I meant after the fight. Who won?"

"Won?" The idea of someone 'winning' over Kelly was absurd. Oddly, Slow Elevator ran fast today and deposited them on his floor before he could come up with an answer. Sweeping his bangs out of his eyes, he should make time for a haircut, Frank led the way.

"Are you on the side facing The Grand?" Dean asked, the sparkle back in his eyes.

"Yep." Frank unlocked the door then swung it open, allowing his guest to walk in first.

"Nice entry." Dean strode in, eyes scanning the place. Under his breath he muttered things like 'space' and 'lighting' as if he were checking items off a list. After examining the kitchen, and Frank was happy to see it was almost as clean as he liked it for guests, Dean froze in front of the double french doors leading to his balcony. Both gorgeous green eyes nearly popped out.