by R. Silver
Pushing my hair out of my face, I stretched my arms above me and twisted side to side to prepare to play the keys. I kicked off my sneakers, too. He did say get comfortable. I was jumping at the chance to play the piano how I did when I was alone, when the only audience was my soul. The rich tones of the Steinway echoed throughout the airy warehouse. One piece rolled into another and I felt myself rise and fall with the rhythm of every phrase. In the remote background, I could hear Trevor call out a few things to me and to Izzie but I was in my own special place where my music dictated the movement, the pulse and the very light that came through the many panes of glass overhead.
Finally, the last notes of the piano sang as I quietly took my hands from the keys and placed my hands in my lap. I looked up and smiled at Trevor. He stood just inches away from the piano bench with the camera away from his face. Shafts of light fell onto the keyboard and I reached up to shade my eyes. Click, click, and click. Trevor’s camera was busy again. “Thank you, Samantha. Taking your photos was a great honor. I am looking forward to show you how the world will see you,” Trevor spoke in a low voice that almost trembled. I suddenly felt tears well up into my eyes. His gentle tone made that vulnerable place in my heart quake. How could a man I had only met two times make me feel so exposed?
Between Elsa and Izzie, arrangements were made when proofs would be viewed. An entire crew of people whom I had not even noticed appeared and began packing up lights, shades and boxes. As if cotton had just been removed from ears, I could hear the city sounds of cars, sirens, and busses beyond the warehouse walls. “Since we are all finished here, can I offer you ride home?” Trevor spoke quietly to me. “It would give us a chance to talk."
“That would be perfect. Who knows if she’ll be able to catch a cab around here and I have to go in the opposite direction. Sam, I will call you later about what we have down for the performance tour. Oh, and put on a bra when you go home, honey,” Elsa hooted to us as she tripped up the stairs in precariously high heels and a tight skirt.
“I guess that will be a yes from me, please,” I groaned as I bent down to slip my sneakers on. “I’ll just put my shoes on so I won’t be shoeless and braless.” I heard Trevor chuckling.
Saying goodbye to Izzie, we left the warehouse together. A Navigator SUV was pulled up in front of the building and an older gentleman was holding the door open. “Chip, this is Ms. Lin. We are giving her a ride home which is convenient since you’ll know where to pick her up when I take her to dinner,” greeted Trevor. Again, he placed his hand on my back to guide me into the back of the SUV.
Trevor leaned back in the seat and stretched all six feet of his muscular body while rubbing his eyes. His sweater crept up and gave me a glimpse of sculpted abdomen. With his hands still over his eyes, he turned to face me. “So, how about it? I have work to do tonight but tomorrow is free for me. Pick you up at 7 tomorrow evening for dinner?” he smiled at me. With a smile and physique to match, I wondered why his career was not in front of the camera. We sat apart but I could feel the heat of his thigh near mine.
“Thank you for the ride but I really don’t know you and you don’t know me. I could be married or attached. Do you just ask out every woman that you photograph?” I blurted out. Other than my ex-husband, I had dated only occasionally. I had never been propositioned so boldly and by someone I hardly knew. All sorts of alarm bells were going off in my head. Yet, deep inside I craved to get closer to him, to touch his hair, to smell his cologne, to have my thigh brush against his.
He grasped my chin with his hand and tilted my face towards his. I could feel his breath on my neck as his eyes bore into mine. “You are not married. No ring. And, no, I don't ask out every woman I photograph - only the interesting ones." It felt so warm in the car and I could feel little beads of sweat on my face. I licked my lips and saw his eyes narrow and hear him take in a sharp breath.
Every thread of common sense told me to say no and every fiber of my body cried yes. His thumb stroked the angle of my chin and his mouth turned up in that half smile I recalled from the first time I saw him. “Then, I guess I will see you at seven,” I whispered feeling my face and neck tingle from his touch.
“Ms. Lin, may I assist you,” Chip opened the door of the SUV and offered his hand. “We shall see you tomorrow at seven, Miss?” I stepped out of car feeling a bit shaky from the events that had just transpired.
Trevor lowered the window and smiled that million-dollar smile. “Looking forward to a great evening, Samantha.” I watched the SUV drive away in wonderment. What had I done? Nice and sensible girls do not go out on dates with random hot photographers. This was definitely not something to let my mother know.
Chapter 3
Beep. Beep. Beep. My answering machine greeted me as I entered my apartment. Groaning, I pressed the play button. There were only two types of messages on my machine. Either I was being informed that I had been selected to win a free cruise if I returned the call and gave away all my personal information or it was my mother. Despite knowing that I had a cell phone, she insisted on calling my landline. Returning her calls typically resulted in several calls back and forth since she never turned on her cell phone except to make a phone call and was rarely home to answer her landline.
My brother, David, my sister, Grace, and I had all tried reasoning with my mother. “Mom, leave your cell phone on. How else can we reach you?” I had pleaded with her on so many occasions. “The battery won't die. You are out of the house so much that when any of us return your call we always get the machine. At least, call us on our cell phones.”
“I think it is wasteful to leave it on. Don’t you turn out a light when you leave a room? Same idea. Turn off the phone when you finish the call. It is very dangerous to call you on your cell. What if you were crossing the street or cutting vegetables with a sharp knife, the cell phone would distract you and you would get hit by a bus or cut off a finger,” sniffed my mother.
Arguing with my mother was like trying to change the tides of the ocean. You would never win. David often laughed and told me that it was because of my mother’s stubbornness that our family business of property management had grown from a few buildings in Chinatown to high rises throughout Manhattan. Of course, if David took a day or two to return my mother’s call, it was fine. He was her golden child. As the oldest and only son, David held a special place in our family and in my mother’s heart.
Sighing, I hit play. Samantha, this is your mother. (As if I would not recognize her voice) I am calling you to remind you that tomorrow night we are all going to Grace’s house for Chinese dumplings. (Crap! Completely forgot.) Make sure you get there by four so you can help cook. Also, are you taking those vitamins I gave you? (Yuck, no) Call me back.
This was a serious problem. Finagling out of a family dinner to make a dinner date with Trevor Morgan would take some serious maneuvering. Problem one: my mother never took no for answer. Problem two: I absolutely was not going to let my family know that I was going to go out on a date. Accepting the dinner invitation from Trevor was completely outside of my sheltered comfort zone yet something told me that this was part of my new path.
Hey Grace. Sorry cannot make tomorrow nite. Can you tell Mom? I quickly texted my sister.
Immediately, my cell phone rang. “What do you mean tell Mom?” yelled my sister. I could hear children’s voices in the background. “Sam, if you cannot come, it’s okay but I refuse to do your dirty work. Mom will give me the third degree. You need to tell her. Jonah, quit picking your nose.” Obviously I had caught Grace at a bad time. It must have been pick up time at preschool.
“Sorry, you must be busy. Something came up and I can’t make it. I just thought it would be easier if you told her,” I answered sweetly. I could just picture Grace’s beautiful face scowling at me through the phone. “Just tell her that I have a little cold and we didn’t want to expose the kids to it.” I was scrambling for an excuse.
“Okay, this time I will do it. But, you ow
e me big. James, do not hit your brother,” Grace growled. With her two boys in tow, I knew she would want to end the conversation quickly. It was probably what saved me. The line went dead. I did not know if it was because we lost the connection or that Grace hung up on me. Either way, I had avoided an interrogation by my mother for now.
Claire and I met the next day at her favorite diner down the street from her office. We had been best friends since high school and were overjoyed that we had each other in New York. Claire had been my lifesaver during the dark days of my marriage and divorce. "So, do tell," said Claire peering at me over her enormous salad. “I cannot wait to hear about this hunky photographer. This has to be a first. Samantha Lin going out on a date who hasn't been screened for suitability, financial stability and good genetics by her mom!" With her perfect blond bob and impeccable ensemble, Claire's breathy gushing made her sound like a gossip talk show host. I fiddled with my silverware and stared at the lifeless tuna salad sandwich in front of me. "I just feel this attraction that really makes me curious. When he was taking my photos, I felt safe with him. Besides, he is really gorgeous," I giggled. As close as I was to Claire, I could not reveal to her that just thinking of Trevor triggered warmth between my legs that made me shift in my chair. "It is just one date. Heck, he probably dates models and movie stars," my ever present self-doubt speaking up.
Claire waved her hands as if she were banishing evil spirits. She stabbed at her salad like there was a live animal hidden amongst the frisée. “Why do you always get the tuna salad here? It looks gross and you hardly eat it. How did you get out of dinner with your family?”I lifted the sandwich to my mouth in an attempt to prove Claire wrong. "Asked Grace to make an excuse for me," I mumbled. Yuck, I resolved to never get the tuna again – omega threes be damned. “Now I owe my perfect sister another favor. Good thing she is so capable she'll never call the favor in."
"Haha. She'll probably get you to babysit your nephews." Claire had finished her salad and was now reapplying blood red lipstick. "Your mom is so sneaky. Grace will completely spill the beans."
Sighing, I nodded and asked our server to take away the rejected tuna salad sandwich. "That is why I did not tell Grace the truth. Divorce has made me devious. Also, I am just not going to answer my phone."
As we stood, Claire embraced me and I could smell Dioressence on her. "Good luck, hon. I think this is a good step for you. Promise me, you will call me if you jump his hot bod," she waved and headed out the door. We parted ways and I started towards Victor’s studio near Juilliard.
Elsa had e-mailed me a complete list of venues where I would be performing and a few where I would be giving a master class to piano performance students. The album performance tour would finish up in Los Angeles with a publicity party. I was confident in the pieces I had in the repertoire but a little polishing work with Victor always gave me an extra boost before performing. Besides, with Victor roaring in my ear and thumping on the piano, I would have little opportunity to daydream about Trevor.
Chapter 4
With a mountain of clothes on my bed, I stood in a bra and panties scrutinizing my closet. Jeans were too casual for a dinner date. A pencil skirt with a blouse and scarf was too stuffy. The black cocktail dress I wore for Grace’s engagement party was so out-of date. Finally, I dug a Valentino wrap dress out of the back of my closet. The fabric clung to my curves and the burgundy complemented my skin. Hoping we would not be walking too far, I plucked a pair of 4-inch stilettos out of their box. The heels would at least help close the height differential between Trevor and me.
I tucked my cell phone, lip stick, breath mints and wallet in my clutch. I crinkled the condom package that Claire had slipped me at lunch. Winking at me, she had teased, always prepared, that’s my motto.” It seemed so forward to even consider bringing protection. Seriously, this was just a dinner date. A recurring image of Trevor’s abs and the promise of what the rest of his body would look like unclothed pushed me to quickly tuck the prophylactic in my bag.
At 7 o'clock sharp, there was a brisk rap at the door. Taking a deep breath and smoothing imaginary wrinkles out of my dress, I answered the door. Trevor leaned against the door jamb with a bouquet of long stem red roses in his hand. "Wow, no one has ever brought me flowers," I smiled and motioned for him to come in. Our hands brushed as he handed me the flowers. Trevor grasped one of my hands and turned it palm up. Bending his head, he placed a kiss in the middle of my palm with lips that were so soft.
I shivered. "You are stunning tonight. You deserve flowers," he murmured as he brought his gaze up to meet mine. Still holding my hand, Trevor glanced around my apartment and flashed his beautiful smile at me when his eyes rested on the piano. "Your photos turned out stunning. I think you'll be really pleased. Ready for a great evening?" I nodded unsure of my voice. Trevor kept my hand in his and I did not pull away. It felt so natural and, frankly, the woozy feeling it gave me was addictive.
Chip whisked us away in the SUV and within minutes we were exiting in front of a small cafe in Little Italy. Upon entering, a portly gentleman greeted Trevor by name and seated us at an intimate table tucked in the back with a view of the street scene. “Signorina, it is always a pleasure to have Trevor and his friends join us. Chianti, perhaps,” the host smiled at me warmly.
“Paolo, a Chianti for me and Samantha would be great,” Trevor casually placed his hand on the back of my chair. “Usually, Paolo just surprises me and brings out a great meal. Are you up for that?” Having quickly glanced at the menu and seeing it all in Italian, I nodded in agreement. "Cheers," he lifted his glass to me. The Chianti tasted tart and warm like the Italian countryside. When I placed my glass down, Trevor was looking at me with his intense gaze and half smile.
Paolo and his staff brought out dish after dish-antipasti, fresh grilled fish with herbs, a heavenly gnocchi, and delicately grilled asparagus with olive oil and sea salt. Trevor was so easy to talk to and the food and wine relaxed me. Before I knew it, I had told Trevor about my soft spoken father, my driven mother and my perfect siblings.
Despite his low, quiet voice, I could hear him over the background of the table conversations around us and the clinking of silverware, "You may not feel this way but you are fortunate to have all of your family near you. My mother was a free spirit. She met my trust fund father while he was traveling in Africa and she was working for a nature photographer. After a few months, my father got bored and moved on. My mother was pregnant. She moved back home to upstate New York and we drifted around a lot. My father got a pang of conscience and decided to pay for my education from high school on. The bastard died of a heart attack and since he had no other heirs I inherited his money.” I reached over the table and touched his hand that was worrying the stem of his wine glass. Trevor’s eyes looked unfocussed as if he were looking at a distant object. Suddenly, all of his intensity returned and his grey eyes that had flecks of green met mine. “We all have our baggage. The big question is what we do with it. Do we carry it around and let it weigh us down? Or, do we dump it overboard like extra ballast so we can sail?" He stood suddenly and pulled me up, too. “Feel like walking?”
Regretting my footwear choice but not wanting to put a damper to the evening, I kept pace with him as we strolled the streets of Little Italy. We wandered upon a street festival with gaily decorated booths and delectable sweets displayed. The brightly lit lanterns seemed to wink at us and the evening air wafted around us with promise. Trevor stopped in front of a booth that had miniature fruit tarts, iced cookies and luscious cannelloni. He chose two cannelloni and gestured to me, "Open wide.”
I laughed. “I certainly can feed myself.” He shook his head and pointed to my mouth. As I licked my lips, I saw his gaze intensify and he placed the sweet on my lower lip. I bit down on the crust of the pastry and felt the powdered sugar dust my mouth. “Mmmm.” A groan escaped my mouth. The act of being fed and the crunchy cannelloni giving way to the soft sweet filling aroused my already alert core.
“Hey, get a room!” shouted a vendor from one of the booths. Both of us were gasping when we parted. Our lower bodies were still touching and I knew Trevor was as aroused as I, based on the bulge I felt against my hip. Without speaking, we began walking again but Trevor kept an arm firmly around me with his hand grazing the curve of my hip. I was not sure if his arm was helping or hindering my balance because the kiss had made me shaky on the stilettos and his touch continued to wreak havoc with my senses.
It was the most perfect night of my life. Ring, ring. Trevor’s cell phone trilled. He glanced at his phone and turned away from me to take it. Suddenly, I felt bereft without his physical presence. He spoke gruffly into the phone and ran his fingers through his hair. Tension buzzed off his back. Not wanting to eavesdrop, I fumbled with my clutch to get my lipstick. When I looked up from reapplying the lipstick, Trevor was back at my side with a frown on his face. "Samantha, I have to go. Something has come up that I have to attend to. Chip will take you home. Let's exchange cell phone numbers so we can arrange another time to finish this beautiful evening."
While we waited for Chip, I put his phone number in my cell and he did the same with mine. The SUV pulled up and Trevor opened the door for me. When he closed the door, he bent down to the sidewalk and then stood up motioning me to open the window. "I’ll keep this so you won't use it without me.” In his fingers was the condom package. Heat flooded my face and my complexion probably matched my burgundy dress.
