Baby, It's Cold Outside

Chapter 2

Jenna opened the suitcase. A neatly folded stack of clothes reproached her. She lifted the red sweater lying on top and shook it out. The tiny sweater looked like a small petite. "All the clothes are this size." She stood and gestured to her five foot eight inch—with a frame to match—self. "No way do these clothes belong to me."

Grant grinned, though there was something forced about it. "The owner of this suitcase is probably not any happier with your clothes than you are with hers."

"Don't you dare make a crack about my size." She'd never been sensitive about her body until her boyfriend of five years had not only dumped her, but felt compelled to tell her she'd let herself go, and the extra twenty pounds was not an asset in his ledger. She'd told him what he could do with his precious ledger, but the comment had stung.

Her involuntary host's lips parted in surprise. "Are you kidding? You want me to say what I would have said if I weren't such a gentleman?"

She hesitated, then mentally shrugged. What the hell, she'd made it this far. She was in his apartment. She'd introduced the mix-up with the suitcases and, as far as she could tell, he'd accepted her story. No sense in stopping now.

"Sure," she said. "Let's hear what you were really thinking."

"The mix-up in suitcases is your loss, but my gain."

"Good save, buddy."

"Though I'm having some trouble understanding why you would visit New York City in late fall in that get-up." He raised a hand as if to forestall an attack. "Not that I'm complaining."

"I was planning to change in the airport. I had carried my suitcase onto the plane, so it wasn't like I had any chance to lose it."

His lips twitched. "Apparently, you had one chance."

"Well, who knew someone could be so dumb as to take the wrong suitcase from the overhead bin?"

He shrugged. "Pretty generic suitcase." They both looked at the black, nondescript bag as if it might speak. When their eyes met, she rose slowly to her feet. What was the cause of that question mark in the back of his calm gaze? He had no reason to doubt her story.

He turned away, breaking the contact, and relief washed over her.

"We need to get you warmed up before we decide what to do next," he said. He strode over to the fireplace and yanked open the metal curtain.

She couldn't explain why, but she had the feeling he was angry or annoyed about something. Perhaps he didn't want a friend of his sister's here, given the fact that he and Kate weren't on speaking terms. But she couldn't help Kate with the task that had brought her here if he got mad at her, as well. She'd better do something fast to smooth things over.

"Hey, Grant," she said, deliberately softening her voice. "Thanks for taking me in. I'm already warming up." She managed to avoid shivering.