Until We Say Goodbye

by Jane Drager

  The comment warmed her. “Why, thank you, kind sir. Must be my country upbringing.” Wow, a man not full of himself. She bit into a strong garlic pickle and pointed the remainder his way. “But I’m a stranger in these parts and only passing through. You’ll need to practice your hang-up on someone else.”

  His lip twitched. “Don’t you like our city?”

  She cringed. “Not to be insulting, Deems, but I haven’t found too many things to like. Living here is expensive, and you have too much traffic and not enough open space. As enormous as this city is, I feel closed in.” She pointed the pickle upward. “You can’t even see the stars at night with all the light pollution and tall buildings in the way.”

  “Central Park is our open space.”

  She gave him a one-eyed look. “That’s not what I call open space. Where I come from, I can stare at miles of rolling hills.”

  With a simple flick of his brow in answer, he bit into his sandwich.

  Typical city-slicker, and one with no idea of the beauty of open countryside. Even though she worked in Harrisburg and experienced the trials and tribulations of city life, she’d never felt as closed in as here. Manhattan was just too…tight.

  Deems reached across the table to lift her chin. “You seem far away. I hope I’m not souring your mood.” He dropped his hand.

  “You’ll never sour my mood, Deems.” How could she tell him he had no equal, and that he was the kindest man she’d ever met? Sitting opposite her, he looked relaxed, as if they’d eaten together a hundred times. A far cry from the nervous fidgeting of her ex-fiancé, a man she dated from high school. She had a pretty good idea why Deems called but best to wait for him to bring up the subject.

  With a faint smile tugging on the corner of his mouth, he licked the mustard oozing from his sandwich. “I’ve never come right out and kissed a woman on the street. I’d say my inner fear of the opposite sex is well on its way to being cured.” He bit the sandwich and shoved the food to one side of his mouth. “How am I doing?”

  She narrowed her gaze. “Personally, I think you’re full of shit. A man as nice and as good-looking as you can’t possibly have trouble with women.” Men had fooled her before, and judging from his kiss, he had lots of practice. If he kissed all his women with such depth, he’d have a line of panting females on his tail.

  Finished with one half of his meal, he gathered the other half and prepared to bite. “I’d say you need a friend right about now, Lauren. I’m offering my services.”

  A friend she could use. A handsome one, she wasn’t so sure about. The man was so friggin’ tempting. Although, now that she had garlic breath from the pickle, she wouldn’t be tasting his lips any time soon.

  “Tell me about yourself, Lauren Howell.” He took a large bite of his roast beef.

  She had no way of getting out of this without being rude. Of course, he needn’t know everything. The last thing she wanted was to have the man feel sorry for her.

  “I’m asking for a chance to be your friend, Lauren. No strings attached.”

  She considered Jan a friend and look what happened. Twisting her mouth to the side, she met his steady gaze. “I don’t know where to begin.”

  “How about where you’re from?”

  Oh, that was easy enough. She relaxed and leaned back. “I’m from a small town called Arendtsville in Pennsylvania. We’re between Harrisburg and Gettysburg.” Finger wagging, she gave him a one-eyed gaze. “If you’re telling me you’ve never been to Gettysburg, then shame on you. The town is part of our country’s history.” She sipped her soda.

  Gaze twinkling, he chuckled. “Guilty as charged. I’ve been to a lot of places but not Gettysburg.”

  “Well, my dad is a Civil War fanatic.” She rolled her eyes. “I love him dearly, but he drags the whole family to all the re-enactments.”

  “And you taught in Arendtsville?”

  She shook her head. “Harrisburg. I had an apartment not far from my school.” She forked some cole slaw. “My parents and brother, along with his wife and two kids, live on the Howell homestead in Arendtsville. We’re in apple-growing country, and last winter, my parents signed over the three-hundred acre business to my brother. From here on, he’ll handle the orchards.”

  Picking up his pickle, he waved it toward her. “What about you? Don’t you deserve part of the farm?” He crunched into the pickle.

  Uh-oh. His garlic breath would match hers. She munched on a few chips before answering. “I’ve known from day one my brother would inherit the property.” She met his gaze. “Don’t misunderstand. My parents love me equally but encouraged me to continue my education and pursue my art. My engagement prompted them to make my brother the official owner.”

  “Engagement?” Eyes wide, he hastily chewed and swallowed. “You never told me.” He pointed to her left hand. “No ring.”

  With both hands holding her sandwich, she wagged a pinkie. “We’re done, and I sold the ring, but let’s not talk about that part of my life yet. The memories will give me acid reflux.” She bit into her sandwich while nodding toward his near-empty plate. “Since you’re way ahead of me, how about you talk for a while?” Best excuse in the world to avoid a heartbreaking memory.

  “Fair enough.” After swallowing the last of his sandwich, he wiped his mouth. “I was born and raised in Chicago before I moved to New York—oh, maybe five or six years ago.” He sat back. “I work for a company called High-Rise International. Basically, we buy and sell high-rise properties, new or old.” He leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table. “I’m the North American agent, one of several representatives based around the world. Our job is to acquire properties and establish a central office for condo fee collection and maintenance.” With his straw, he stirred the ice in his soda cup. “Our strictest criteria is to acquire properties ten or more stories high. Price ranges vary from country to country.”

  “Sounds interesting.” Wow. A bona fide globetrotter. Her limited finances confined her to the State of Pennsylvania with an occasional trip into Maryland. In her entire life, she hadn’t flown on an airplane. She strained a smile. “You’ve been with them long?”

  “Since inception. Close to five years.” He munched on a few chips. “I like the job and make a good salary. Of course, I travel all over the country.” He wiped his mouth one last time before tossing the napkin onto his paper plate. He gave her a long look. “Now, what happened at Jan’s?”

  She wondered when he’d get around to the subject. He’d obviously gotten her phone number from Jan and probably learned her side of the story. Eric’s, too. Lauren took a large bite of her sandwich and chewed.

  Jaw tight, he tapped a finger on the table. “You’re avoiding my question.”

  She swallowed. “No, I’m not. I don’t want to choke to death.” She sipped her soda before making eye contact. “What did Jan tell you?”

  “That she threw you out because you hit on Eric.” Without breaking eye contact, he sat back. “Frankly, I found the news hard to swallow.”

  After her heated argument with Jan, she’d left in a huff, friendless and alone with no one willing to hear her side. Even though Jan was his sister, Deems expressed doubts, and his words encouraged her more than she cared to admit. She might have a friend after all in this blessed city.

  A deli worker from behind the counter strolled among the occupied tables, handing take-out containers to those who asked.

  Lauren took one and piled in the other half of her meal.

  Stretching across the table, Deems slipped his fingers under Lauren’s right hand. His thumb stroked across her bruised knuckles. “You hit Eric with a right hook, didn’t you? And Jan is wrong about who tried what. Eric attacked you, and Jan refuses to believe.”

  The simple stroke of his thumb caused a surge of need to rise. She wanted someone to hold her and say everything would be all right. Her world had been in turmoil since Jo-Jo left and not once had she felt close to any man…until now.

  “La
uren?” He cocked his head.

  While staring at his hand holding hers, she desperately avoided eye contact, but the man was too damn compelling…and kind. Glancing up, she gave him a weak smile. “You’re right on both counts. Eric’s tried several times to nail me, always after Jan left for class. The clincher was the evening Jan had a lecture to attend. By then, we weren’t talking much because I hid in my room, but that evening, my instructor said to catch a PBS special about stained glass art. We only have one TV, so I tuned in and was halfway through the show when Eric strolled in naked. I nearly lost my dinner.”

  With heat rising into her cheeks, she shifted on the seat and forced herself to continue. “He jumped me, and I swung. Then, I ran from the apartment and called Jan. Since she was in class, she couldn’t answer, so I left a voicemail. But, so did Eric. Of course, she listened to his message first and believed his cockamamie story about me going after him. Jan and I had a big blow-up so I packed and left the next morning.”

  “To where?”

  Inwardly cringing, she met his curious gaze. “Not far.”

  His eyebrow arched. “You’re not telling me?”

  “No, you’re Jan’s brother, and I won’t blame you for taking her side.”

  Shaking his head, he smirked. “You’re afraid I’ll tell Jan, and she’ll slip the address to Eric.”

  She’d had men after her before, but Eric entered a class all his own. Butt naked with his penis high in the sky. Licking his lips like a hungry wolf. Despite his lack of muscles, he still had strength. If she hadn’t spent a childhood wrestling with her brother, she’d have lost to Eric’s assault. She covered Deems’ hand. “Please don’t be offended. I have only a month and a half left in New York and don’t want to spend my free time avoiding Eric.”

  “I understand.” He grabbed her hand and gave a gentle squeeze. “That’s why you agreed to meet me here so I wouldn’t know where you’re staying.”

  She tapped the tip of her nose and winked. “The less he knows of my whereabouts, the safer I’ll feel.” She returned his gentle squeeze, experienced a sudden lurch of her heart, and then quickly retracted her hand. Mustn’t get too friendly. She stared out the window.

  A steady stream of foot traffic passed along the sidewalk. People of all ages hurried about their business, some wearing suits, some in rags, and still others in clothes tight enough to restrict blood flow. While scanning the crowds, she caught sight of a man standing in the shadows across the street. Immediately, she recognized him and wasn’t sure if anger or annoyance constricted her throat.

  “Something wrong?”

  She sighed. “At times, I find the people of New York a bit unnerving.” Meeting his gaze, she motioned with her head. “Do you see that Hispanic man across the street? He wants to buy my backpack.”

  With one brow cocked, he shifted his gaze out the window. “That’s a little weird.”

  “I agree. Twice, he confronted me then again this evening on my way here.” Rotating her head, she glared at the man. “He’s following me.” Saying the words out loud caused a flood of irritability. She wanted to rush out and crack open his skull.

  Deems glanced at the pack hanging on her chair. “What’s in your bag?”

  “Nothing worth anything. My sketchbook and some class materials.” She sipped her drink. “He offered me fifty bucks. Then a hundred. And he wants the pack and its contents.”

  Brows high, he straightened in his chair. “Why?”

  “If I had the answer, I’d be a genius.” She checked her watch. With each passing spring day, daylight stretched into the evening. But dusk came early in the city. Too many tall buildings to block the sunlight. She’d rather be in her room before dark, and with the Hispanic on her tail…

  Deems distracted her thoughts by taking her right hand into both of his. He seemed mesmerized by the bruised knuckles so she wiggled her fingers.

  His lips curled with a smile. “You have a strong hand.”

  She showed him the other one by placing it alongside. “I have two strong hands from hauling bushels of apples.”

  He patted both hands then sat back, reached into his suit’s inner pocket, and extracted a business card. “Here. You already have my cell number, but this has the office. If I’m in a meeting, I keep my phone off, and my assistant can take your call. Anytime you need to talk or want a free meal, call me, okay?”

  Gingerly taking the gold-embossed card, she eyed him warily. Why was he doing this? After her experience with Eric and the Hispanic guy, she wasn’t sure she trusted anyone in New York. She slipped the stiff paper into her jacket pocket.

  Not long after, Lauren and Deems stepped from the deli where Deems raised his arm to hail a taxi. One immediately rolled to the curb. “The cab is for you.” He opened the rear door. “Since your friend is still across the street, you’re riding home even if you live two blocks away. There’s no sense me offering to ride along. You’ll refuse.” He handed two twenties to the driver. “That should cover the fare.” Then to Lauren, he waved a hand. “Get inside.”

  She stammered for words. “Deems—”

  “Don’t you dare refuse.”

  His generosity activated alarms in her head. Why? Because deep down, she envisioned him as much more than a friend.

  Chapter Seven

  Deems held the cab door for Lauren, but she made no attempt to step in. Her gaze scanned his face, as if searching. For what, he wasn’t sure, but her hesitation gave him a chance to do the same. She created sensations deep inside his core that were totally foreign yet wonderful…no, breathtaking. Her touch tingled, her smile dazzled, and he loved how her gaze lingered on his lips. More than anything, he’d like to extend their time together, but he offered himself as a friend. A first in his book. Somehow, he understood those words were the ones she wanted to hear. Any other woman in her financial situation would latch onto him and never let go, take advantage of his bank account, and give him tears to weaken his resolve. But not Lauren Howell. If truth be told, he’d like to assist her in whatever way she desired. Convincing her to accept his help was the problem. “Can I call you?”

  Her emerald eyes brightened. “Absolutely, as long as you remember—”

  “Yes, I won’t forget.”

  Smiling, she held out her hand. “Thanks for the free meal.”

  He frowned at such a formal gesture.

  “Best buds have limitations, you know.” She cocked her head and grinned.

  He smiled at the comment. The woman presented him with a challenge, but for now, he’d follow her rules. “I already kissed you so I guess a return kiss is out of the question?”

  The grin disappeared. “Let’s call us just friends, Deems…for now.”

  Instead of shaking her hand, he slipped his palm under hers and raised her sore knuckles to his lips. A gasp escaped from her throat, and he secretly patted himself on the back. One way or the other, he got his kiss.

  She stepped into the taxi and, with a wave, drove off.

  His gaze wandered across the street. The Hispanic man had disappeared.

  What bothered him about this beautiful woman? Far too often, a hint of worry clouded her face and kept the smile from reaching those beautiful eyes. Without question, the episode with Eric unnerved her, and her concern with the Hispanic bordered on frustration and not fear. But she’d refused to talk about her ex-fiancé. What happened that made her so cautious?

  Answers. I need answers.

  In business, he considered himself an astute man, always reading his clients as if they were an open book. On a social level, he struggled with women, primarily because he couldn’t read them at all. Some had crossed his path and displayed body language as plain as a neon sign. That message he understood. He had money. They wanted it and connived all sorts of ways to entice him into bed. The game grew old fast, and he longed for a meaningful relationship with a woman of substance. And hell, he’d finally met a worthwhile candidate, and all she wanted was to remain friends. Just my luc
k. But he hadn’t made a success of himself by ceding defeat.

  After a sleepless night with visions of her lovely face floating into his mind, he’d arrived at the office, ready to conquer a full morning’s work but only shuffled papers without getting anywhere. Normally a workaholic, he could barely concentrate and spent most of his time staring out the window. She distracted him too much, and he had to uncover why. Enough already. He picked up his cell phone and called Lauren. Just hearing her voice brightened his day, but she refused his offer of another free meal. Instead, she suggested they meet in Central Park after her class.

  He agreed to rendezvous at four-thirty near the hundred-year-old oak off Fifth Avenue and Seventy-Fifth Street. Since he hadn’t the foggiest idea what an oak looked like, he concentrated on a tall tree with Lauren nearby.

  The park was a flurry of activity. Walkers and joggers crowded the asphalt path. Proud parents played with toddlers on the grass. Everyone came out of the woodwork to enjoy the beautiful April afternoon. Sad to say, this morning, as in every morning, he’d stepped into his limo and then into his office building without noticing anything about the weather. Yes, the sun shined overhead but other than that…

  Five minutes later, he found Lauren stretched onto the grass with her backpack as a headrest, ankles crossed, and eyes closed. She looked peaceful, a woman at ease with nature. He stood no more than a hundred feet away in the shadows of a bush, unwilling to destroy the vision of a beauty lying in wait. The idea of waking beside her every morning caused a surge of warmth to rise. She was so different from the women in his circle. Simplistic and practical, a lover of art. A teacher and farmer’s daughter, one who understood hard work. Any man would be proud to have her by his side.

  Bushes rustling to the right startled him. A man in a black leather jacket darted into the open and sped toward Lauren, not pausing for a second while he bent to scoop up her backpack. The Hispanic! Lauren shrieked, and he yanked harder, cursing audibly at the loop still strapped to her shoulder.