by Cara Summers
“Let’s see…”
While the woman searched the crowded restaurant, Eric whispered, “We can still make a break. There’s a steak house right around the corner.”
Dallas laughed. “Behave yourself and I won’t make you eat anything raw.”
“Follow me, please.” The woman led them toward the back, her waist-long black hair swaying and shimmering like expensive silk as she wove in between tables. “Is this all right?” she asked, waving a perfectly manicured hand with long red fingernails at a table for two in the far corner.
“Perfect.” Eric flashed her a grin that put a sparkle in her dark eyes.
“Enjoy your meal.” She left the menus on the table and moved back toward the front as if she were gliding on air.
Dallas sighed as she took her seat. She really didn’t mind being so tall, liked it usually, but sometimes she envied the seemingly effortless femininity of petite women.
Eric sat, too, his back toward the other diners. He didn’t pick up his menu, only stared at her. Not in a rude way but enough to make her uneasy.
She cleared her throat. “Do you trust me to order for you?”
“Is this where the ‘I’ll be gentle’ part comes in?”
“I thought you didn’t like gentle.”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
His lips curved as he thoughtfully studied her for a moment. “So, that’s how you wanna play.”
She smiled back. “I’m not playing.”
Challenge flickered in his eyes, but before he could deliver a comeback, the waitress appeared for their drink orders. He asked for a scotch, and Dallas ordered white wine. But that would be it for her. Work started at seven tomorrow.
“You come here often?” he asked, glancing around at the other diners, mostly tourists, mostly couples but a few families.
“This is only the third time, but the food is good and reasonable considering they advertise in one of those tourist magazines.” She stopped herself from volunteering that it was also close to her apartment.
“Yeah, I was surprised you chose a tourists’ hangout. I figured you must live nearby.”
She smiled and picked up the menu even though she knew exactly what she’d order. “You’d better have a look at the menu.”
“I already know what I want.”
The huskiness in his tone made her look up. She met his eyes and there was little doubt as to what he meant. She held his gaze but only for a moment before she had to look away. He didn’t scare her. She frightened her self. Never before had the reckless urge to shun commonsense been so strong. To jump in headfirst and consider the consequences later.
What the hell was it about him that made her want to be foolish? She pretended to study the menu, hoping her ridiculous desire to skip dinner and go straight to a hotel room would pass.
“What are you going to have?” she asked, keeping her eyes lowered to the menu.
“The teriyaki rib eye steak.”
“You big chicken,” she said, shaking her head at him.
“Hey, it’s not like I’d ask them to leave off the teriyaki sauce.”
They both laughed.
She laid down the menu. “How adventurous of you.”
“You have no idea.”
“Where are you from?”
“The Pittsburgh area. And you?”
She’d expected the return question and saw no harm in answering. “Right here. I was born at New York General, although I grew up mostly in Tarrytown. It’s about forty minutes away.”
“I know the area. Nice.”
She nodded. “So green and pretty. I miss it but I like living in the city.”
“Which part is that?”
She smiled. “How long have you lived here?”
“In Manhattan, about five years.” His gaze roamed her face, lingered on her mouth. “I think our drinks are coming. Ready to order dinner?”
“Are you in a hurry?”
He gave her that sexy look again. “As a matter of fact, I am.”
THEY LEFT THE RESTAURANT AN hour later. The sun had set, but there was still another half hour of light left. No way would Eric let this evening end. He still didn’t know her last name or anything else about her. Other than she was from Tarrytown but now lived in the city.
Of course, knowing she’d grown up in Tarrytown provided more insight. He could safely bet his Rolex that her family had some money. The upper-middle-class community was a far cry from the steel-mill neighborhood where he’d grown up. Hell, even the Rockefellers had an estate there.
Although he didn’t need particulars to know she came from a genteel background. Breeding showed in every step she took. The softness in her voice. The graceful way she moved. Modeling, of course, gave her polish, but she had her own natural panache that couldn’t be learned or faked.
“How about a walk?” he asked before she could flag a cab and disappear.
“Sure. It’s nice out. Not as sticky as last week.”
“I say we head for Central Park.”
Her eyebrows rose. “It’ll start getting dark by the time we get there.”
“Afraid of the big bad wolf?”
“Should I be?”
He smiled. “I think Tom probably assured you that I’m an okay guy.”
“Tom?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets as they turned down Sixth Avenue. He badly wanted to touch her, but he’d wait for a signal. Let her call the shots. That’s what she wanted. That’s why she insisted on the secrecy.
“Was Tom at the party?” She seemed genuinely confused, which gave him pause.
“I figured it out, Dallas. We both saw you in the display window. Tom had to have put you up to this.”
“What are you talking about?” She slid him a sidelong glance, her eyebrows drawn together in a skeptical frown.
“There’s no other explanation.”
She shook her head with a wry smile. “Maybe we ought to skip the walk. You need some serious rest.”
“Yeah, I hardly slept last night.” He kept watching her, noticed her near misstep, the way her cheeks colored a little. “What about you?”
“Fine. I slept just fine.”
“Good. Then you shouldn’t be in any hurry to get home.”
She laughed. “Very sly.”
“Look out.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her close when she nearly collided with a shabbily dressed man staggering wildly, obviously drunk.
“Thanks.” She leaned against Eric as she glanced over her shoulder at the man, who’d already passed by—but not so his rank odor. “Sad, isn’t it?”
The compassion in her eyes touched him, as misplaced as it was. He took another look at the guy, evidently homeless and drunk. “He needs a good meal instead of spending his money on booze.”
“You don’t know his circumstances.” She pulled away. “He may have just lost his job or received some horrible news.”
“You’re right.” He drew her back against him and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “I shouldn’t have said that. But there were a lot of steel mills where I grew up. I saw what happened to men who lost their jobs.”
Looking away, she murmured, “Yeah, I’ve seen it, too.”
That surprised him. What did she understand about that world? About the blue-collar laborer who was so readily sacrificed to improve the bottom line of a corporation’s financial statement? He understood. Too well. His brothers were fools for languishing in the mills, and settling for the same scraps their father had.
He caught a glimpse of Central Park a couple of blocks away, along with the lineup of carriages and horses with their colorful hats. “I have an idea. How about a carriage ride?”
“Are you serious?” She laughed softly. “Only tourists do that.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t we just eat in a touristy restaurant?”
“Touché.”
“Come on. Let’s pick out a horse.”
Sh
e made a face. “We don’t have much time before it gets dark.”
He smiled, his body thrumming with anticipation. “Sometimes interesting things happen in the dark.”
CHAPTER FIVE
BY THE TIME THEY GOT TO THE FOURTH horse—wearing a straw hat with an orange band and large drooping yellow daisies—Dallas knew Penelope was the one for them. The chestnut-colored mare had sweet, soulful eyes and a soft neigh, and Dallas immediately bonded with her.
She stroked her velvety head. “Penelope’s definitely the one.”
“You’re sure now?”
“Positive.” Glancing at Eric, she realized he was teasing her and she lightly punched him in the arm.
“Okay.” He laughed. “Penelope it is.”
He spoke to the driver a moment—an older man with drooping eyes and a face lined and brown as shoe leather—and then helped Dallas into the carriage. In seconds they were trotting into the park, the sound of Penelope’s clopping hooves on the asphalt stirring a wistfulness in Dallas.
She sighed. “I haven’t ridden in ages. I used to ride every weekend when I was in high school.”
“Where?”
“At my grandparents’. They had a couple of Arabians and a palomino.”
“Am I allowed to ask where?”
She smiled. “In Connecticut.”
He slid his arm around the back of the seat and she snuggled closer. “They have ranches in Connecticut?”
“I didn’t say they owned a ranch.”
“Just recreational stables.”
“You ask too many questions.”
“I believe that was a statement.”
She just shook her head. He chuckled, and then they rode in silence for a while, enjoying the slight breeze produced by the movement of the carriage.
Ironically, more and more questions about him paraded through her head. Based on what Tom had told her, she’d figured she knew exactly who Eric was. The Rolex around his wrist, the Gucci shoes, the designer clothes—all accessories of an image-conscious social climber—confirmed her belief.
Eric was exactly the kind of man her parents wished she’d bring home. He was precisely the type she never would.
But his comments about the steel mill usurped her logic. Made her wonder about his link to the other side of the coin. Not just because he had lived in an industrial city like Pittsburgh. A variety of jobs existed there just as in any other city. But there had been something personal in his voice, a tinge of bitterness that came from first hand experience.
“See? Playing tourist isn’t so bad, is it?” he whispered, his mouth so close to her ear that his warm breath sent a shiver down her spine.
“I’ll admit this is nice.” She turned her head toward him, knowing exactly what would happen.
His lips brushed hers lightly, a teasing swipe that left her wanting more. She angled toward him, resting her palm on his thigh. She heard his sharp intake of breath and realized just how high up she’d placed her hand. Resisting the urge to jerk back, she pressed her lips harder against his.
He ran the tip of his tongue across the seam of her lips until she opened to him. She heard voices along the path, someone giggling, but she didn’t care. Her pulse raced with every swipe he took with his tongue, exploring the fleshy inside of her mouth, leisurely tracing her teeth.
Heat spread through her chest and up her neck. And then the warmth flooded her belly, spiraled lower, until she had to squeeze her thighs together.
Eric moved his hand to her waist, his fingers probing her bare skin where her shirt ended. She sucked in a breath as he explored her belly and then moved his hand higher so that he cupped the underside of her breast.
The driver started to whistle an unfamiliar tune. He hadn’t turned around and seen them, she was relatively certain, but the reminder that they were out in public put a damper on her excitement.
Eric obviously sensed her retreat and stilled his hand. He broke the kiss and pulled back to look at her. She couldn’t see his face very well. It seemed to have got ten dark so quickly.
“Something wrong?” he asked, his fingers idly stroking her skin.
“Other than the fact that we’re in the middle of Central Park acting like two hormonal teenagers, no.” She snarled. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“It’s too dusky. No one saw anything other than us kissing.”
She shifted so that his hand fell away from her belly.
“Tell you what, let’s use the blanket.” He reached behind him and brought out the small stadium-style blanket that had been left on the seat.
“It’s too warm for a blanket.”
“Exactly.” He shook it out. “So why else do you think the driver left it.”
She laughed. “He did not.”
“Ask him.”
“Right.”
He laid the blanket across their laps. “Trust me. We aren’t the first couple to neck in Central Park.”
“I’ve always had a problem with the term ‘trust me.’”
The carriage ran over a small bump and she fell against him.
“Sorry, folks,” the driver muttered half over his shoulder without turning around.
Eric slid both his arms around her and brought her back against his chest. “Isn’t that more comfortable?”
“It would be if I could—” She gasped as his hands moved up to cup her breasts. She leaned her head back and he kissed the side of her neck.
He inhaled deeply and whispered, “You smell good.” He kissed her neck again, trailing his tongue to the area just below her ear. “You taste good.”
She turned her head so that their lips met and slipped a hand between his thighs. Something he clearly hadn’t expected. But wasted no time in using to his advantage.
He shifted his hips, and her palm slid against his bulging fly. His hardness startled her. Excited her. Empowered her. She twisted toward him, deepening the kiss, letting him slide his hand underneath her shirt. He reached her bra and worked his fingers inside, gently stroking the sensitive flesh around her nipple.
With her free hand she clutched the blanket to her chest. Not just for privacy but because he was making her crazy. What was she doing? She’d only met him last night. This wasn’t her style.
She breathed in deeply. This was her fantasy, she reminded herself. She wasn’t hurting anyone. In fact, it had been a long time since she’d felt this good. Felt the uncontrollable burning in her belly. Felt like saying screw everything and dragging him down to the grass.
He took her nipple between his fingers and she whimpered softly. He smothered the sound with his mouth, delving in deep with his tongue until she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t feel anything but his heat searing her skin, the feverish desire in his touch.
Like a sound echoing in a distant cave, she heard voices murmuring, laughing. Momentarily disoriented, she shifted, let her head fall back against his shoulder.
Approaching them on the path was another couple, on foot, not so far away. Dallas moved away from him and tugged down her bra and shirt. The blanket still hid them from view, but the spell had been broken.
Eric didn’t move. He continued to hold her, his warm breath dancing over the side of her neck and ear. Once the couple had passed, he whispered, “My apartment isn’t far from here.”
She bit her lip. God, it was tempting. Incredibly tempting. She liked him. The chemistry was certainly there. This is what she wanted. So, what held her back?
She did have to get up early tomorrow.
What a load of crap. Her reluctance was about the whole fantasy thing. It would end. No more mystery woman. He’d find out she was an ordinary woman, working in construction, trying to pay off her student loan.
The polished nails and perfect hair, the sensational tan, the nice clothes—none of it was really her. If he passed her on the street while she was working in her normal torn jeans or coveralls, her hair tied back in its usual messy ponytail, he wouldn’t give her a second look.
<
br /> But then again, he’d only find out if she told him.
Which she’d probably blurt out once they’d made love. Except it would only be sex. Very different. So maybe…
“Dallas?”
Lost in thought, she jerked at the sound of his voice.
“Look, I didn’t mean to push you. It’s okay.”
“It’s not that. Really.”
He kissed her briefly on the lips. “On Wednesday night one of my clients is having a reception. I’d like you to go with me.” He paused, watching her closely. “Unless you have to work Wednesday night.”
She did everything in her power not to laugh. His fishing was so obvious. Fortunately the original model had recovered and was back to work. “I don’t work nights. Where’s the reception?”
“At an art gallery on the Upper East Side. They’ll be serving champagne and hors d’oeuvres. We can go out to dinner afterward.” He kissed the side of her jaw. “Anywhere you want. Say you’ll come with me.”
The carriage began to slow just as the driver said, “End of the line, folks. Hope you enjoyed the ride.” He slowly turned and grinned at them. “For thirty bucks, I’ll take you around again.”
“No, thanks.” Dallas straightened and made sure she was put together before dropping the blanket. “I really do have to get up early tomorrow,” she said to Eric and started to climb down.
“Wait. Let me go first.” He hopped down before she could protest and then grasped her around the waist and lowered her to the ground.
“Thank you,” she murmured, stopping herself from informing him that she was perfectly capable of climbing down by herself. She wasn’t normally treated so chivalrously. In fact, she made it a point to be one of the guys. As it was, they needed little ammunition to harass her and the only other woman on the crew.
Eric handed the driver a couple of bills. She resisted arguing over who should pay. They’d already gone that round in the restaurant.
It didn’t matter that it was a Sunday night. Around Fifth Avenue and Fifty-ninth there were always people on the streets, mostly tourists, returning from Broadway or dinner or watching the street entertainers.
Not far from the corner a magician transfixed his audience with disappearing balls and trinkets, earning him delighted gasps and fistfuls of change dropped into his proffered top hat.
