“Yeah, I help my Gammy pay her medical bills. She’s got Multiple Sclerosis, and her meds and treatments get pretty expensive.”
“I’m sorry your grandmother is ill.”
Josie sighed. “Me, too.”
“Is it genetic? If you don’t mind me asking…”
“No, it’s not supposed to be. But there is something in the genes, though. My…my little sister had it, too. She didn’t make it.”
York placed a solid, warm hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. He didn’t say anything.
He didn’t have to. He got it. No amounts of sorries and sympathies made the sting of it go away. His silent compassion was more than enough for Josie.
“My wife Annalise died of tuberculosis in 1919.” York’s words were quiet and loaded down by grief.
Josie took his hand in hers and gave it a good grip. She didn’t let go. She didn’t know why York had decided to tell her, but it didn’t matter. He had trusted her with the pain, and that’s what mattered. Their grief bonded them in a way.
“I miss her every day. When things go well, she’s the person I want to tell. When I’m having a shit day, I want to hear her voice, telling me it’s all going to be okay. Or to tell me to get my head out of my ass.” He chuckled softly at the memory of it.
“Sounds like my kind of lady,” Josie murmured.
He nodded. “I think you two would have gotten along, actually.”
Josie understood the words for the compliment that they were. They walked in silence for a bit, but it wasn’t heavy or awkward. It was the space they needed to digest the fact that they had shared their pain with someone else.
Once they had followed the path out of the park and back onto the street, York didn’t let go of her hand. He turned her so that they could stare at each other for a bit longer in the silence. He swallowed.
“This was nice,” he said. “I enjoyed myself. “Do you think I could have your phone number?”
Josie nodded nervously, and the exchange was done quickly.
“I promise not to barge into the brownstone again,” he vowed.
She smiled at him. “I don’t know. I liked it.” She bit into her lip. The tingles, the ones that always raced up her back and along her arms when she got into a kissing mood, were running across her body.
York was still holding her hand, and he used it to bring her closer to him. He lowered his head and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.
It was soft.
It was perfect.
It was over way too quickly.
“See you soon,” he swore, with flames dancing in his green eyes.
Josie didn’t even have a doubt. He was definitely going to call her.
Chapter Nine
York
Two days had passed since York’s date with Josie.
Forty-eight long hours had slowly ticked by without laying eyes on her.
York had done just about everything he could think of to get the woman out of his mind. He had gone for a run. He had driven outside of the city to shift and fly through the night sky. He had reorganized the books in his library first in alphabetical order, then by order of topics. He had struck two new deals with failing banks and had planned out the mergers of those companies within his own.
Nothing had worked.
He had been in severe danger of using up all of the hot water in New York City. He had taken way too many showers to count, but no matter how many times he took care of himself, his libido wouldn’t die down.
That particular part of him had died along with his wife, but it was back with a furious vengeance, and it wanted Josie Essa.
He wanted Josie Essa.
Bad.
Hard.
Fast.
Slow.
Every which way he could think.
They had exchanged a few text messages a day. He had texted her when he figured she would be waking up, and they had traded notes sporadically throughout the day, and to wish each other a good night before bed.
Josie had sent him a picture of herself, nearly buried in the boxes of the stuff she was cataloging for Johanna. Her hair had been pulled back and piled on top of her head in a beautiful cloud of soft brown waves. Her eyes were opened wide, and she was smiling mischievously. He kept finding himself staring down at the picture at odd moments of the day.
Where are you? He texted her before he could think better of it. He dropped his phone onto his desk and tried to turn all of his attention onto his computer screen. His shifter senses were sharpened and eagerly waiting for the buzz-buzz sound of an incoming message.
An hour passed without news.
York took his phone and began pacing his office like a caged animal. He knew that Josie was a busy woman. It was no small feat that she had undertaken for his mother. She was probably just away from her phone, lost in a sea of priceless knickknacks and valuable trinkets.
I want to see her, his dragon pouted.
The beast had been very vocal about his desire for Josie. York had hoped that a good flight outside of the city would quiet the dragon, but it hadn’t had the desired effect. Instead, the dragon had spent all of the night obsessing over the discovery of their new mate. York was surprised that it had happened. It was downright spooky that his mother would have been very vocal about second mates just as he met Josie.
It wasn’t the first time that he wondered if his mother was a psychic.
Actually, all of the Warwick boys were pretty sure that their mother, though she was a dragon, had some kind of psychic ability. Not that they would ever tell her as much. It would give her way too much power over their lives.
York made his way out of his office. It was nearly lunchtime. Maybe he could grab some takeout and bring it to the brownstone for Josie. Decided on his plan, he was almost out of the Warwick Bank building when Vern, the head security guard, stopped him.
“That nice lady, Josie, is back. I only mention it because we have to keep her phone at the front desk, and I saw your name flash across the screen.” The old man, who very much reminded him of his father, winked. “She’s in the safes.”
York wasted no time making his way down there. He should have thought of it the second she hadn’t responded to his message. Of course, she was in his building. When York exited the elevator and walked into the spacious room, he grinned.
Josie was bent over, her ass stretched the material of her black jeans. Her heels, deep burgundy ladders, were lying on the floor. She was bare foot, hopping on one foot, then the other as she sang to herself. York watched her as she shook her hips to the beat of the song she was singing to herself. It was adorable and sexy all at the same time. It made his heart clench.
Touch that ass, his dragon insisted. Please let me touch that ass. Look at the curve of it. It’s perfect. So round.
“Hey,” he called out, stepping forward.
Josie jumped up in fright. “Mother fucker,” she shouted, grabbing a small porcelain vase from the ground, ready to hurl it at him.
“Easy!” he said, failing to stifle his chuckle.
“York?” Josie lowered her makeshift weapon. “Shit, you scared the hell out of me.”
“Who did you think it could be? You’re in the most secure bank in the world. I’m hardly here to rob you.”
Unless we’re going to rob her of her clothes.