Prologue
HARLAN
A few months earlier
Icouldn’t takeanother step. My head spun and my legs trembled with fatigue. I’d walked all the way downtown from Penn Station, where I’d been chased out after spending the night dodging cops and other homeless people. The brick wall was the only thing preventing me from sliding to the ground. Lights glowed inside the store I stopped in front of, and I watched people moving back and forth, carrying books. My gaze caught the platters of cheese and crackers and bottles of water, and my stomach gave a vicious growl of hunger. I hadn’t eaten since the day before—the vodka I used my last ten dollars on, more important to my numb brain.
The sign on the window stated a reading of Jane Austen was being held inside, but I was more interested in the light refreshments. I smoothed my hair and rubbed my bristly jaw. I hated the beard but didn’t have the means to shave. Besides, it had protected my face during the cold of winter. I pushed open the door, and a wave of warmth hit me in the face. Hunching my shoulders, I dragged my feet to the back, where a small crowd had gathered, and found a seat nearest to the food.
In high school I’d studied Jane Austen and enjoyedSense and SensibilityandPride and Prejudice, so I kept a half-trained ear on the reading and discussion while planning how I could slip the cheese and crackers into the pocket of my jacket without being noticed.
A tall, husky blond man caught my eye and smiled.Oh, hell no.Did he know what I was planning? I ducked my head but studied him from beneath lowered lashes, noticing the way his sweater clung to his bulging muscles. A thrill ran through me, and I shifted in my chair. Survival, not sex, was the number-one thing on my mind, and I forced my thoughts away from what his strong arms would feel like around me.
After the reading, a short discussion was held, and I tapped my foot impatiently, wanting it to be over so I could take some food. Being this near was excruciating, and I imagined what the cheese would taste like, melting sharp and creamy on my tongue. Saliva formed in my mouth, and I swallowed. When the speaker finally stopped talking, the blond man stood.
“If y’all are interested, we have signed best sellers for sale, and please feel free to have some cheese and crackers. If you have any questions, ask me or Race, and we’ll be happy to help.”
That was my cue. I sprang out of my seat and took a small plastic plate. I held back, only taking six crackers and three big hunks of cheese, along with the cluster of grapes piled in the center. I snagged a copy ofSense and Sensibilityand headed to the corner where I’d spotted some armchairs. I balanced the plate on a small ledge and sat down with a grunt, hoping the store stayed open long enough for me to rest my feet and warm up a bit. I opened the book and began to read, trying to nibble the cheese and crackers to make them last, but my hunger was too strong. Within several minutes I’d demolished everything, yet the emptiness inside me remained. I ran my finger along the plate and licked it, hoping to pick up any stray crumbs.
“Excuse me.”
I glanced up, my finger caught in my mouth, to see the good-looking blond guy standing in front of me. Did he see me take all the food and scurry away like a mouse?
“Yeah?” I tensed, expecting him to tell me to get out and not come back.
“Do you want some?” He held out a plate filled with more cheese, crackers, and fruit. “I, uh, took too much and don’t want it to go to waste.”
He knows.
I could see concern in his big blue eyes. I wondered if I could hit him up for a few dollars. He seemed like the do-gooder type.
“Uh, I guess. If you’re sure.”
A warm smile broke out over his face. “Yeah, I sure am. Here.” He shoved the plate at me, and I took it while he sat in the club chair opposite me. “I’m Cort, by the way.”
Of course you are, with that accent.
“Harlan.” I crunched on a cracker, trying not to look too eager. Too hungry.
“I ain’t never seen you here before.”
“I, uh, came in for the reading.”
His eyes narrowed. “Uh-huh.”
We sat in silence for a few moments, and I slowed my eating so as not to expose the real reason I came to the store.
“Do you do these readings often?” I hoped they did, so I could plan when to come and fill up on the snacks.
“Once a week, usually.”
Disappointment flared. That wouldn’t be enough.
“But I’m here almost every night until closing. It’s a good place to come and hang out and read. And”—he leaned over like a co-conspirator—“I make the coffee and usually bring some cookies to go along with it, so stick with me.” He chuckled. “I take care of my friends.” He picked up a copy ofPride and Prejudiceand began to read.
The crowd had dwindled until only three or four of us remained, and I wondered when the store closed. I still needed to find a place to sleep tonight. I nibbled a grape and watched him, wondering what his story was. He sure wasn’t a native New Yorker, not with that twang. His muscles bunched under his tight blue sweater, and again I felt that pull toward him. As if sensing my interest, Cort glanced up and smiled.
“I gotta go, but I hope I get to see you again.” He closed the book.
