She pressed the button. “Hello?”

“Hi,” a male voice said. “Are you Melodie? Melodie Carr?”

“I am.” She frowned. A caller looking for her? Had she ordered something and forgotten about it? “Who’s calling?”

“It’s Patrick,” came the reply. “Patrick Brogan.”

“Patrick…” Gaping, she laid a hand on the wall to steady herself as the bottom dropped out of her world. Evidently, running to New York City—albeit under the pretence of a good career move—hadn’t been enough. Her past still followed her, trying to flood her with reminders of what she’d lost.

“Melodie?”

Christ, the man’s persistent. She never should have admitted her identity before asking his. She could have told him he’d got the wrong address and sent him away.

Not that it would have worked. There was only one place he could have got her details—her parents. Plus, she was one of the few residents who had a name next to her button on the panel outside.

“Are you there?”

Damn her parents. Damn her late fiancé’s brother. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone?

A moment ago she’d been craving a familiar face, and now there was one outside, waiting to get in. She should let him come up—it wasn’t his fault his brother had died, after all. He’d been as devastated as her.

She buzzed him in. “Come on up.”

Melodie Carr clicked delete on the email with a disappointed sigh. She couldn’t contribute to the charity calendar, despite the cause being very close to her heart, as she didn’t know anyone suitable to photograph. Although her photography work varied; from children to pets, landscapes to portraits, the call for calendar models sought hunky guys who would make women swoon. Unfortunately, she didn’t work with professional models and therefore had to give up on the idea. A cute dog, something she had plenty of images of, simply wouldn’t cut it.

A thought occurred to her. She may not be able to contribute, but she could find out when the calendar would be available and do her bit to help by buying a few copies. Some eye candy on her wall would definitely not go amiss, and her friends Poppy, Lola, and Charis, and her grandmother, Joyce, would no doubt appreciate it. She grinned. Joyce, always good fun, said, there’s no such thing as too much eye candy. The saucy old broad.

Her smile faded. She missed her, having not been back to Boston to see her friends and family for a while. She should ask Joyce to come and visit her in New York—she hadn’t traveled much, and would love the hustle and bustle, the endless opportunities to people watch. Maybe Melodie and the rest of the family could club together and buy her a ticket for her birthday. It sure would be nice to see a familiar face. Skype was great, but it wasn’t the same as being with someone in person.

The buzzer to her apartment went off. Melodie groaned. With so many numbers on the panel outside that didn’t have names on them due to a high rotation of occupants, visitors often rang her place to see who lived where. She’d lost count of the number of times she had to direct visitors and delivery men to the right part of the building.

She took her time getting to the intercom, hoping whoever it was would go away. No such luck—the buzzer squawked again. She inhaled deeply, trying to rein in her annoyance and avoid being rude or abrupt.