Safer Alone (The Safer Duet #1)

by Amy Rose

  “Shall you tell me how your day was?”

  Oh right, yes, talking okay, I can do this. “Busy, actually.” It was nice to have someone ask how my day was. I hadn’t noticed that he was keeping pace next to me, matching me step for step. “You see, I’m trying to get on top of everything since I am taking off at lunchtime tomorrow. I have to go to New York to see a client, last-minute thing, you see.” I wink at him and allow a small smile to curve my lips, hoping that he might be playful.

  “Is that right? I wonder what kind of client would ask you to drop everything and go to New York on such short notice?” Oh good, he was going to play along, he is trying to hide a grin himself, his smile ended up breaking through and was a beautiful smile. A smile that wouldn’t look out of place on a male model for a toothpaste commercial. Why did everything about him have to be so darn perfect? I couldn’t help but enlarge my own smile in response.

  As we arrive at the storefront of ‘Cup of Cinnos,’ Elliot opens the door for me and indicates that he would like me to enter before him. It was such a gentlemanly thing to do. His parents have done a good job instilling respect and manners in their son. I hurry through the door, thankful that the heat is on inside the coffee shop. Once I feel him come in behind me, I take a moment and note that it wasn’t overly full. Not at all surprising for this time of the afternoon, most people were heading home for dinner, not stopping for a coffee. “Did you want to grab a takeout and go back to my place or just sit down here?” I wanted to leave the choice in his hands, maybe he didn’t want to be seen in public with me after all? People were sure to recognize him, weren’t they? How I hoped he would come back to my apartment. Who knows, if all goes well, he may even kiss me again?

  “How about you find us a seat and I’ll order our drinks. My treat since I asked you for coffee. By the way, what would you like to drink?” I feel instantly deflated, he wants to remain in public, keep a certain distance. It affects me more than I want it to. Oh well, if he wants to do this here, we can.

  I don’t want him to buy my drink as he had already paid for dinner last night, and the meal we shared the week before. I hoped he isn’t someone who is easily offended. I reach into my bag and retrieve several $1 notes, pulling them out and holding them out towards him. “I’ll have a large, extra hot, vanilla chai latte with skim milk, please. Oh, and Elliot, here take some money towards the coffees. You bought dinner last night.”

  He looks at my money then to my face. I can see the conflicting emotions on his face, angry because he doesn’t want to take any of it but at the same time torn as he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings. “Coming right up.” He plucks the money from my grip, turns on his heels and walks to the counter.

  I watch him walk away from me. His suit pants cling to his body in all the right places. I guess that’s what happens when they are custom made for you. I notice when he finally gets to the counter the girl behind the counter twists her hair and cocks her head to the side and bats her eyelashes at him. He seems completely oblivious to her and just orders our drinks. He then pulls out his wallet and pays with a shiny plastic card. She signals he should wait to the side nearer the barista who is currently working on the huge silver coffee machine, the sounds of the milk frothing a calming white noise.

  I had chosen a relatively private booth in the corner of the shop next to the window. As it was starting to get dark outside, the glow of the street lights would be coming on soon. I turn my attention towards my hands. I had an awful habit of wringing my hands when I was nervous. I wonder what we would be discussing regarding travel while we were here? I would need to ask if there was a motel located close by the airport to make the taxi ride to the airport on Sunday as short as possible. I don’t want Elliot to drop me off at my apartment in New York. I don’t want him knowing those things about me, best to keep it strictly professional. Other thoughts cross my mind. Would we be meeting with any of his employees? If so, I should take some work clothes if that was the case, so I look professional.

  Looking back across the café I can see Elliot waiting for our drinks. Just his luck, the barista was another very chatty girl. She, too, couldn’t resist batting her eyelashes a million times a minute. Maybe I was wrong, but it appeared as though he looked uncomfortable. Surely, he would be used to pretty girls flirting with him. I would imagine it happens on a regular occurrence. I see him pull out his cell phone from his pocket and touch the screen. I avert my gaze out the window not wanting to be caught staring. A young couple were walking past, hand in hand, they stopped just outside the window to share a kiss. My heart leaps for them, how lucky they are. I place my hands under my chin and unashamedly keep staring.

  “Here you are, Angela.”

  I drop my hands and jump a little in my seat. Elliot was sliding into the seat across from me, and his cheeky smile gives away the fact that he caught me. I shake my head a little, “You have got to stop scaring me all the time.” I then give all of my attention to the man sitting across from me.

  “Thank you.” I reach for my steaming cup of coffee and wrap my arms around either side of the cup, I raise it to my nose first and inhale the comforting smell of vanilla and cinnamon. I take a small sip, testing the temperature and allowed the burning hot liquid to warm my insides, “I don’t drink coffee often. I’m normally a tea drinker myself. How about you Elliot?” I’m not sure why I felt the need to tell him about my coffee drinking habits. I guess I figured this was a safe topic and he could commence the talk about our business trip himself when he was ready.

  He replied instantly, “I have probably two coffees a day, sometimes three if I have meetings for work. I don’t usually finish an entire cup though. Tea on the other hand, as long as it’s strong and black, I’ll drink it.” He shrugs taking a sip of his coffee.

  Once he places the cup down on the table in front of him, he looks up at me “Did I hear you tell your assistant that you finish work at noon tomorrow?” he asks, seeking confirmation.

  “Yes, that’s correct. I hope to be out a little before that but no later than noon. I was going to ask you if I should I go straight to the airport from work or will I have time to go home and freshen up?” I take another sip of my coffee while waiting for his reply. He too was enjoying a mouthful of his. I would hazard a guess of long black with a dash of milk by the looks of it. The tint was such a dark brown that it must have only been a drop of two of milk.

  “Our flight departs at 1:45 pm from Nashville international. I was going to suggest that I pick you up from your apartment on my way through at around 12:30 pm, if that works for you? It will save you fighting for a parking spot and then paying for parking.”

  Elliot’s tone was professional and business-like. I thought to myself, this must be what it is like for his employees on a daily basis. “Sure, that would be helpful, thank you. If you send me a message when you pull up out in front, I’ll walk down and meet you” I was mentally calculating our departure time with the near two and a half hour flight, we would arrive just after 4:00 pm so it was possible we would head straight to his office to talk designs. “Will we be going to your office when we arrive to discuss your ideas for the restoration?”

  His eyes meet my own, I stare intently into them, just like he did at the cottage, during our viewing the other day. It gave me the feeling he was trying to read my thoughts. was he searching for something?

  He looks back down at his coffee, breaking eye contact for a second, then looks back at me. “No, Angela, we won’t be going to my office. I had my assistant Kat print out several copies of the sketches that I have already been working on and she will be delivering them to my place this evening, along with the laptop and camera I will be loaning you. It will be a more relaxed environment for us to let the creative juices flow, so to speak,” When he says the words juices, heat floods at the apex of my thighs. How could one word do this to me? He is eyeing me trying to gauge my reaction. Luckily my face didn’t betray my thoughts. I slowly bring my legs closer together an
d cross my ankles. I was going to his house. I would have thought that he would be careful who he brought home. If there was one thing I knew about millionaires and celebrities alike, they liked their privacy. I was intrigued about where he would live, though. However, that doesn’t solve my biggest dilemma: where was I going to stay?

  “Is that okay with you, Angela? Perhaps you were hoping to visit my office? I can show it to you sometime during the weekend.”

  What do I say to that? I thought we would be around other people when we were discussing these items. Instead we are going to be spending time alone? Do I tell him that I know what his building looks like? I did admit to myself it would be nice to see if the same architectural features were inside too. It was time to discuss my accommodation. “Whatever you feel is best. I do have a small request though; would you mind stopping at one of the motels closest to the airport for me? I haven’t had a chance to book as yet and I’ll need to check in somewhere for a couple of nights and drop off my bags.”

  Elliot looks slightly uncomfortable at my request. I hoped I hadn’t offended him. A sudden thought hits me: maybe he has already booked me a reservation somewhere, maybe that’s why he looks a little taken aback? “I actually thought you might stay in my guest house. It’s separate from the main house, however close enough that if you need anything you can just walk over. Plus we will more than likely have at least one late night. It will be handy for you to be close. That way, when you get tired you don’t need to worry about the long ride back to your motel.”

  My eyes widen at his confession. That was why he looked so uncomfortable. He hadn’t made a reservation for me. No, instead he wants me to stay with him, stay with Elliot Sands, at his very own home. Well, not with him as such, I would be in his guest house. Where in New York would allow that much room to have a guest house? All the buildings are on top of each other and nine out of ten are apartments. Instead, he must live in one of the affluent outer suburbs, no doubt.

  My heart hammers against my chest. His eyes haven’t left me, watching the emotions running across my face. I can’t exactly turn him down. “Umm, I guess so, if you’re sure that would make things easier. I’m more than happy to stay in a motel, though.”

  I can see him visibly relaxing in front of my eyes. “No. It’s completely fine. No need for a motel.” That settles it. I will stay with him. Well, at his place anyway.

  Since I’m doing him a favor, now he can do one for me. “Could I ask you a favor, though? Since I am now staying at your place with you, would I be able to get a lift to the airport on Sunday?”

  “Of course Angela. I would be more than happy to drive you.” He smiles at me and I can’t help but smile in return. This weekend was going to be nothing short of interesting, to say the least.

  “Well then, now that’s all figured out, I’d better be heading home.” I drain the last of my latte. “I have a bag to pack.” I stand up from the table. I notice Elliot has finished his drink too. He stands up with me and follows me to the door, before opening it for me and once again placing his hand on the small of my back to guide me out the doorway. I feel the same tingles move from the point of contact over my entire body. The chemistry was most definitely still there from last night. Even though he is acting completely professional, I can feel it, there is something between us. I couldn’t be wrong, could I? The lingering looks, the offer of staying at his home, his touch on my back, they are all signals.

  We continue walking in silence back towards the office, walking past to the parking lot a few doors up. It is a shame he removed his hand when we are a few steps from my car. I felt the loss immediately and missed the connection. “Until tomorrow, Miss White.” He leans in and I hope with everything I have he is about to kiss me. He does, but not where I was hoping for, instead kissing me on the cheek. As he is pulling away, his gaze locked with mine. We stare into the depths of each other’s soul, and then all too soon, he turns around and walks away. I watch him until he is no longer in my view.

  ~ Chapter Fourteen ~

  During the drive home after my coffee meeting with Elliot, all I can think of is what this weekend will entail. I am sure there will be plenty of items to discuss but maybe, just maybe, we might get a few spare minutes to discuss things other than Elliot’s design ideas and renovation plans for the cottage.

  Since I will be staying in his home, there is even a small possibility that I might see a family photo or two. That thought evokes an idea. Maybe I should do some further research tonight, so I am better prepared? No, Angela, that’s not a good idea, I don’t want to be a stalker now do I? However, looking around his house will surely reveal more personal information, private facts that were not available for all to read on the World Wide Web. Then again, I can just ask him anything that I want to know, if it’s not personal. Asking if he has a girlfriend isn’t too personal, right?

  As I enter my apartment tonight I have already made the decision that I would need to pack my medium sized overnight bag, a small makeup bag, and that I would also need to take some of my nicer clothes, the ones that still looked new, since I have only worn them once or twice. With that in mind I decide that there is no time like the present and no point putting it off, better I get to it right away.

  I walk straight into my bedroom, throwing my handbag and phone onto the bed before making a beeline for my distressed timber chest of drawers and throwing open the doors to my built-in closet. First, I need pants. I start rifling through my bottom drawer, pulling leggings, track pants and even the one pair of spandex walking tights I own aside until I find my favorite pair of dark blue jeans. Once I have them in my hands, I close the drawer and turn, throwing them the short distance onto the bed behind me. With one item of clothing down, it is time to continue my search, this time looking for a sweater of sorts. It only takes me a moment to locate my lightweight, pale pink, cable knit sweater, one of my purchases from early winter last year. With those two items sorted, I had my perfectly acceptable, and even somewhat professional at-home outfit down pat. Looking back into the open drawer, I noticed my old faithful simple black wool sweater. I’ll throw that in too, just in case. It’s a heavier weight then my pink one so would be suitable if the weather ends up being cold.

  Next, I have to select something a little nicer, just in case we venture out anywhere, meet any of his colleagues, or friends possibly. Adding both of the sweaters to my already selected jeans, I stand up and stand before my already open wardrobe doors and stare at the many items hanging on velvet hangers in their color coded sections. I have something in mind. I begin sliding hangers along the bar, hearing the loud scratching sound they make with the metal on metal friction, all the while looking for my blood red, long sleeve wrap dress. I find it tucked towards the wall on the right-hand side, I pull it out and hold it against my body. It falls to a perfectly acceptable length on my legs, below the knee and above the ankle. Perfect.

  Reaching up onto the top shelf, I am able to pinch the handles of my soft duffle bag and pull it down. I walk back over to the bed and open it. I fold the chosen clothing carefully, trying my best to avoid any creasing. Once they are both safely inside, I look at them. With two outfits now chosen, I had to pick some shoes to go with them. I threw in my well-worn black sandal flats as they would go with both outfits, some undergarments next, plain skin-toned panties and bra and finally some night clothes.

  I return to the chest of drawers and open the half sized, top left hand one. Pinching the fabric of the items on top. I slowly lift out my full length cream satin nightgown with an elegant lace detail along the bodice and the cap sleeves. It wouldn’t show anything besides my arms, however, if I had a visitor in the morning, I wouldn’t feel as self-conscious as I know I would if I was wearing my usual t-shirt and shorts combination.

  With all wearable items sorted, it was time to pack the personal necessities. I wandered into the bathroom to collect my small makeup bag, toiletries and a small bottle of my preferred perfume, Dior, Hypnotic Poison.
With all in hand I return to place them in with my clothing. I quickly wrap the perfume up in the arm of my black sweater, to better protect it during the flight.

  Next I need something to keep me occupied while I fly coach. There is nothing worse than being unprepared and having a total chatterbox sit next to you. It happened when I flew home for Grandpa’s funeral. The middle-aged gentleman and his wife kept asking me questions. I really should have had a book with me and I could have pretended that I was busy. Or better yet, my mp3 player. I won’t be unprepared again. I grab my well-loved and read copy of ‘The Notebook’ and pop it into my large handbag that I will be using as a carry-on bag. This fits snugly along with a black cotton scarf, my iPad and a pair of noise-cancelling headphones.

  Now that I have packed everything that I will need, I have to do my very best to relax for the remainder of the evening. Before I even get the chance to sit down, my eyes float to my washing basket. Without giving myself a chance to ignore it, I decided that putting a load of washing in is a good idea. Especially since I don’t know what time the flight Elliot has booked me will arrive on Sunday. I will also need something to wear to work on Monday.

  I notice that I only have a couple more washes left of both the liquid detergent and fabric softener, so after loading the machine with the clothing I had worn this week. I head into the kitchen and write both of these items on the magnetic shopping list that hangs on the fridge, so as to not forget them. Once the cycle has completed, I pull the clothing out and load them into the dryer, turning the dial to the wrinkle free setting for one hour. This way they should be done before I go to bed.

  I’m realizing that I am not overly hungry, and why would I be, after enjoying last night’s leftovers for lunch. I could quite easily go to bed without eating, but I end up deciding that I should eat something, even if it is small. I pad into the kitchen and search the cupboards. A can of Campbell’s tomato soup stares back at me. I’m not really in the mood for soup. It’s not something I really enjoy eating, however it’s good to have in the cupboard and has a long use by date. I know that it will be a light meal. I grasp the can in my hand and pull it down, setting my attention to now locating the can opener, I find it in the second drawer. I continue on with my task and open the can and tip the contents into a small saucepan, setting it on the gas cooktop for the soup to heat through.