Read Online Lucky In Love by Deborah Coonts - Free Book Online Page B

his business acumen, I pushed through the double doors into rarified air. Filled with wood, brass, knotted silk rugs, and important artwork, the lobby reeked of class and exclusivity. To be honest, had I not bought my place at pre-construction prices, I would no longer have enough green to even worm my way onto the waiting list. Not that that would bother me—I got enough attitude at work, I didn’t also have to live with it. Frankly, the whole thing had been Teddie’s idea—he bought the penthouse and I bought the floor below. A good investment, he had said, and he’d been right.
    Forrest, our resident concierge/bouncer/doorman/friend, rushed from behind his desk. A former nfl player, Forrest now hobbled on creaky knees, but he still managed to make it to the elevator before me. The mountain of a man pressed the up button. “Miss Lucky, you get fired or something? I never see you before the wee hours.”
    “I wish. But, I have learned that if I’m really disagreeable they’ll send me home early.” I stepped into the elevator, which he held open for me.
    “Not you, Miss Lucky.” Forrest reached in and punched the button for my floor after I had swiped my magic card. “Mr. Teddie is home. Thought you might want to know.”
    The doors closed on his mile-wide smile. Why I felt like an inside joke, I didn’t know, but I wasn’t sure I liked it.
    The elevator deposited me in the middle of my great room. A vast open space with polished wood floors, whitewashed walls, splashes of furniture, and rugs in bright colors, my apartment was my sanctuary. Quiet, open, serene—the antithesis of the Babylon. A place where I could breathe. As I tossed my phone on the couch—I’d left my purse in my office—I felt my tension ease. Wandering into the kitchen, I reached into the fridge, grabbed a Diet Coke, and popped the top. As I guzzled the cool bubbles, I grabbed the cover on a cage in the corner and whisked it off.
    My multicolored macaw, Newton, eyed me through sleepy eyes, one leg tucked under him as he perched on his high bar. “Whassup, bitch?” The product of a hazy upbringing, his potty-mouth always made me smile.
    From a bowl on the sideboard, I chose a piece of browned apple and carefully stuck it through the bars of the bird’s cage. He’d been known to take a chunk out of my finger when I got sloppy. “Here you go, birdbrain.”
    The look he gave me made me wonder if birds understood the concept of disdain. They couldn’t, could they?
    With a quick strike, he grabbed the apple. “Asshole!” he sang out, then retreated to the other side of the perch to savor his prize.
    As I watched him gnaw, it dawned on me that ours was the only relationship I had that I understood. I fed him; he pretended to hate me—it worked for both of us. Why couldn’t all relationships be as simple? I drained the last of my Diet Coke, crushed the can, and tossed it into the garbage can in the corner. And, while I was dreaming, why couldn’t every day be Christmas?
    Time to get comfortable and then go find a hug.
     
    * * *
     
    T eddie, in his infinite wisdom, had contracted for a back staircase connecting our two apartments. Actually, he had done it before I could think it through, but since we’d started as best friends, I don’t think “thought” would’ve changed the outcome. Music wafted from his apartment as I hit the stairs, trudged up the thirteen steps—which I tried not to count—and stepped into his kitchen.
    A similar space and layout to mine, but with higher ceilings, Teddie’s apartment reflected his own eclectic style. Comfortable furniture clustered on small rugs. Sketches of various musicians—some famous, some not so much—dotted the walls, all of them done in Teddie’s hand: one of his many talents. Various instruments on stands sprouted from the floor like small brass bushes, surrounding the centerpiece—a gleaming white baby grand under a spotlight.
    Teddie, sitting at the keys, looked up when I