Cover Up

by Laura Westbrook

  “Why? Would they make you think of home?”

  “It’s warm in Florida, but it’s not quite tropical.”

  She grinned as she took the cup he handed her. The lamp was now sitting on a table, leaving plenty of room for them to sit next to each other. “I guess I was on the beach too much to notice what the rest of the state did. Florida could grow pineapples for all I know.”

  “I can’t blame you. When I’m home, I’m sure that’s where I’ll be. Out on the beach with a light breeze and warm water. Nothing better.”

  The couch made a soft noise when he sat down on it, as if the cushions had exhaled. She could almost feel his warmth, his arm brushing against her as he reached for the little container of garlic sauce. She moved her collar in an attempt to get more air, wishing for the hundredth time she wasn’t wearing long sleeves. It’ll only be for a week or so. The bruises couldn’t heal fast enough.

  She finished her food, and their conversation lingered for a few hours. It was sweet, fun, and undemanding. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to go anywhere, literally or figuratively, and she took that as a good sign. Maybe that was reminiscent of his surfer lifestyle, very different from most people in the city. Refreshing, even.

  She enjoyed hearing his tales of being by the ocean, and she told him about her childhood growing up on a working farm. It was a great evening, and she felt like they were becoming close. She was pretty sure it was a date, but he wasn’t pressing like most guys usually did. Dating didn’t exactly come with a manual, and he hadn’t put any labels on it yet.

  At nine, she glanced up at the clock and finally realized what time it was. For a moment, her mind fluttered to the thought of him kissing her goodnight. Would he? She liked the idea of it. They hadn’t known each other all that long, but he’d shown her more interest than any guy had in a while. He genuinely asked her about her life and passions. He listened, not simply nodding his head while he thought about the weather or the score of a football game.

  This was why she always let the guy make the first move. She didn’t want things to turn awkward just because she liked him. And he gave her no real indication one way or another. He was the perfect gentleman and thanked her for coming over. He even walked her to her own door, but nothing happened at that point either.

  She knew it was time for bed, but she couldn’t sleep for a while. Thoughts of him were in her head, and it might take a while until she could finally fall asleep.

  Chapter Five

  Other than the lobby, Nicole didn’t pass a soul on the way to her office. The sixth floor was for executives only, and you weren’t expected to mingle with anyone except when you had clients, meetings, or the occasional employee evaluation. Generally, executives didn’t seem to walk about in the hallways and check up on their neighbors. They were all too busy in front of their computer or phone, hard at work.

  She wasn’t going to let that hold her back, though. She was used to being alone in her apartment, though she was usually exhausted after a day full of people and interaction. She could cope with the change. She’d get used to the sixth floor. It was just new.

  She picked up the phone and dialed Lenny Norman. He’d called after hours yesterday, so there was a note for her to call him back. He was supposed to be coming in from Idaho for a meeting the week after next, and it’d be a big account if she won it. She’d be in charge of marketing a whole range of top-tier perfumes, with ads placed in four big fashion magazines. There’d be a television commercial involved too.

  She waited as the secretary got Lenny on the line. “Hi, Nicole, thanks for calling. Can I bring our meeting forward to next Wednesday?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said. “What time on the nineteenth?”

  “Make it eleven. My flight gets in the night before, but I want to have a long breakfast and use it as a bit of a vacation.”

  “Sounds great. I look forward to it.”

  “Oh, and make sure you have Amy on the case, too. I love her sketches. Get her to do the main product with her best slogan. Something slick. This one’s targeting women from mid-twenties to early-forties, just so you know what the range is.”

  “I already know she’ll be happy to help. See you on the nineteenth.”

  “Thanks, Nicole.”

  She settled back into her chair once she hung up. Lenny was usually far more critical, but he seemed excited about their meeting. Amy had sent over a large portfolio of ideas, and they’d obviously impressed him. Maybe this new position would go smoother than she thought.

  “How’s life on the executive floor?” Amy asked once she picked up. She clearly recognized the number before she had a chance to say hello. Nicole probably should’ve used the work phone, but her cell phone had more contacts.

  “Not bad. A bit lonelier than usual. It just feels so quiet here.”

  “Put some music on your computer. Have it playing the radio or a playlist. I do that if I’m working late. Oh, and I need to tell you, Harry asked me out this morning.”

  Nicole leaned forward. “Oh really? Harry-the-Genius Harry?”

  “No, not the tech guy. Harry-Harry. The new guy who started when you got promoted. He’s a copywriter. He has the brownest eyes you’ve ever seen.”

  “Really? I don’t remember meeting him. Is he Brazilian?”

  “No, Italian. His family is from Calabria, but he was born here. He oozes Mediterranean goodness. I can’t even tell you how excited I am. I should get back to it, though, unless you need something.”

  “Actually, yes. That’s why I called. I need you to draw a sketch of the main perfume for Lenny’s account. He’s visiting on the nineteenth. Mockups at the least. More if you’re able to squeeze it in.”

  “That shouldn’t be too hard. I’m fitting in a few other deadlines, but you know I always make time for you.”

  “I’m thinking the two words of the name crossing each other at some point. Or the “T” at the end being an umbrella for a woman standing under it. What do you think?”

  “I think you should let our department handle the graphic design.”

  Nicole laughed. “It better be good with that kind of confidence.”

  “Nothing but the best for you! If you can send me some info my way—the usual profile—I’ll get right on it.”

  “You’re the best.”

  Nicole was glad the accident hadn’t thrown Amy off her stride, but it sounded like the new guy was the perfect distraction from all the worries and stress about her car. He might be Amy’s type, but he certainly wasn’t Nicole’s. The more Nicole put together a make-up in her mind of her ideal guy, the more it started sounding—and looking—like Branson. She shook her head. She should be concentrating on work.

  The day marched on. The phone went crazy from two to four, with details being ironed out on the Falkner account, which had an advertising campaign set to run shortly. They specialized in acne cream for all age types, and their CEO was stressed about improving their quarterly sales. Nicole reassured her that the ad placements were ideal and arranged for a few last-minute adjustments, spending the whole time jumping from one call to the next to make it happen.

  Around four, she started rubbing her temples. She leaned back in her chair and put some music on, a slow and soothing album by an artist who seemed to float through the lyrics effortlessly. The first song was about a guy the singer thought might be the one. Nicole hummed along to the catchy tune before she realized it.

  The song, unfortunately, didn’t offer any advice on cute guys who were putting off a friend vibe. Everything was so casual, they might just be friends. He could be the kind of guy who befriended everyone, less common in NYC, but it happened. Besides, someone like him could probably get any woman he wanted. He could literally pick and choose.

  He had a good job, and with his looks, she thought he could’ve dated a very beautiful woman. But he didn’t seem to be the shallow type. He acted like he wanted to settle down and live in a suburb, maybe vacationing in Florida from
time to time. Or maybe he’d want to move back down there and buy a house on the beach, running his own investment firm.

  Then her phone rang.

  “Amy, I thought you said you had work to do.”

  “I know, I know. I couldn’t resist. He just told me where he’s taking me and I had to tell you. Can you guess?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t.”

  “You know that little Italian place on ninety-sixth where they filmed the mobster movie we saw last summer? That one.”

  “You mentioned wanting to go there. Good for you. It’s fancy though. Didn’t you say he just now got hired?”

  “Hey, I’m not about to question a good thing. Maybe he’s friends with the owner or something.”

  “Is he trying to impress you? Or did you drop a hint?”

  Amy laughed. “I might’ve said it’s the hottest place in town. And that, if a guy liked me, he’d take me there.”

  “You did not.”

  “No, I didn’t, but I should’ve. I think I could ask him for the moon and he’d start talking to NASA. He’s that into me.”

  “That didn’t take long. Good for you.”

  “Okay, that’s it for real this time. I’ll let you get back to it.”

  “Let me know of any more developments.”

  “Oh, trust me. You’ll be the first to know.”

  Nicole was happy for her friend and hoped that Harry was the real deal. She didn’t want to be the one picking up the pieces if it didn’t work out. But that was the way love was. You either locked it out of your life completely, never letting it touch you, or you let it take you down its own path, no matter where it went.

  She’d been procrastinating long enough and finally dug into her to-do list for the next day. She jotted down some notes for her assistant. The next song on the radio was another love song. She couldn’t escape them. She tried to block it out, telling herself being single as a silver medal wasn’t so bad.

  She wondered if Branson felt lonely in his apartment after work. He didn’t have anyone in the city except his work colleagues, she assumed. Maybe that was why he invited random people over for dinner, like her. That could be it. Maybe he wasn’t into her and she was just his loneliness crutch.

  She couldn’t imagine him on the trading floor or wearing a suit and tie. She couldn’t really imagine him anywhere but on a beach or at his apartment—relaxed, peaceful, and ready to talk about anything with her.

  She thought about the way he’d smiled at her. It was something she could get used to, a welcome that was as warm and sunny as his heart. She shrugged, a weird thing to do alone in her office. A lot of relationships started out as friendships, so that was a thing.

  At last, it was time to go home. Despite all the phone calls she’d made that day, she craved more interaction. She wanted to talk to someone who was in the same room for a change. Maybe she’d see if Branson was home. She didn’t want to come across as needy, but it was her turn to invite him over.

  She packed up and left on time. Amy would be going out to get her hair done for her upcoming date, so she couldn’t go to her place for their usual midweek movie marathon. The night was hers, and she had no plans whatsoever.

  What would it hurt if I knocked on his door?

  She was getting way too ahead of herself. The last thing she wanted to do was be that person and have the situation be lopsided when it came to expectations. If he only wanted to be friends, then so be it. She could certainly think of worse friends.

  She walked up to her door, deciding she’d see where the night went. First, she’d get ready and take a quick shower. Pineapple pajamas were still an option.

  “I hope he likes canned chili, she thought, considering her options. Her fridge was nearly empty. She decided takeout would probably be better. She didn’t want to copy him, but it’d be way more impressive than a two-minute meal. So, crossing her fingers and tugging on a long-sleeve sweater, she turned her doorknob and opened the door.

  Chapter Six

  It was an even shorter walk, because Branson stood outside his door in the hallway, checking his pockets.

  “Hi,” he said, looking up with a smile.

  “Hi back at you,” Nicole said, hoping she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt. She could pitch six-figure advertising campaigns to executives all day long, but she apparently couldn’t calmly invite her neighbor over for dinner. “You didn’t lose your keys this time, did you?”

  He laughed. A little too hard. “No, I didn’t lose them, but thanks for asking. I have no doubt if I did, you’d invite me in for some coffee, though.”

  “I hear that’s what people do in that situation. And you got it.”

  “What a nice neighbor you are.”

  She decided this was her moment. “What are you doing later?”

  “Later…like tonight?”

  “Sure. Would you like to come over for dinner? I’m thinking about curry.”

  His eyebrows went up. “Wow. Points for creativity. I must have seemed really boring going the pizza route.”

  “Not at all. I enjoyed it. I just like to branch out every now and then. If I did pizza too, I’d just look like a copycat.”

  “Oh, it wouldn’t be so bad. I’ve had pizza two nights in a row before. But sure, curry sounds good. What time do you want me?”

  “Around seven? Then I can order the food. There’s a great place not far away that delivers.”

  “It’s a date.”

  For a moment, she stood there, letting his words sink in. Then she reminded herself he might not mean it that way. It’s probably just a phrase he uses, she thought. Oddly, she wished she could see him at his work sometime. Or with his friends and family. If she knew what he was like normally, she might finally be able to glean some information on it, maybe by how he’d introduce her.

  She tidied up her living room and brushed out her hair. Then she called in the order. Not knowing what curry he’d like the most, she went with a mild heat option. Full of flavor without much spice. She wanted everything to be as perfect as possible.

  A couple of minutes before seven, there was a knock at her door. She raced over from the couch to open it. Branson stood there with a chilled bottle of wine in one hand and a couple of glasses in the other.

  “Just in case you didn’t have any,” he said.

  It worked out, because she didn’t have either. “Those are pretty. Please, come in.” Way to go on the weird compliment. Complimenting a man’s dishware? Wow.

  He didn’t seem to think anything of it and entered like nothing was wrong. She closed and latched the door behind him, then led him to her living room. Gesturing to the couch, she told him the food would be there any minute. He poured them a glass of wine while they waited.

  He leaned back against the couch with his arms sprawled across the top. “So how was work this week?”

  “There have been lots of changes going on.” She picked up her glass and took a sip. “The company I work for is huge, and part of my promotion means working a couple floors above where I used to be.”

  “The view’s got to be worth it, right?”

  “I think so. I mean, I always wanted a job like this. It’s just such a different environment to work in. I only know two people there. My boss and his secretary. Oh, and Nancy, my assistant. Although I didn’t know her before this.”

  “I know how that is,” he said, and she knew he must be thinking about his move from Florida. “Sometimes, we have to give up things to follow our dreams. What is it you miss the most?”

  She wasn’t sure where to start. She wasn’t even sure what she missed, just that her workspace was no longer welcoming or comfortable, but that wasn’t exactly dinner conversation.

  “First, I think I miss…”

  There was a knock at the door. Her stomach growled as if it knew what was going on.

  She grabbed her purse and paid the delivery guy, giving him a solid tip. Then she walked back with her arms stretched across the brown, pa
per delivery bag. She placed it on the now-clean dining table.

  “I think we’ll need to move,” she said. “The coffee table’s too small and there are a lot of side dishes.”

  He carried their glasses over while she opened the box. “Fork or spoon?” she asked.

  “Whichever is easier. I’m not picky.”

  So easygoing. That was nice.

  They sat down and dished out their first portion. For the first few bites, a few yum sounds were all that could be heard. She knew exactly where he was coming from. This was the best curry she’d had in a long time.

  “Have you had a lot of Indian food since moving here?”

  “A pretty good amount. I never really tried it until I set foot in New York City, which is a shame. Now I probably eat it at least once a month. It’s almost a comfort food for me now.”

  “I can see why. It sounds like you needed it after this week.” It wasn’t a question, and she realized he listened better than she’d thought. He was working his way toward being a shoulder to cry on, so to speak, which could come in handy considering how close he lived. No matter what else he thought about her, he seemed to genuinely care.

  “You never did answer the question…about what you miss most?”

  She finished her mouthful and washed it down with a sip of wine, a nice white wine, apparently. He had good taste.

  “My old colleagues, I think. I miss the warmth we used to share. We used to have a blast—you know what coworkers are like when they talk. I’m not saying it was all fun and games. We got serious work done too, or I wouldn’t have been promoted. But all of us were working on the same page, and we’d share our progress as we went along. I miss the interaction, I guess.”

  “Because you’re pretty alone up in the ivory tower?”

  “Something like that. I like being with people. The right people.”

  It looked like any other bite, but the one she just bit into was spicy. Heat built up inside her mouth and she tried to roll it around, which only served to spread the sensation. She swallowed and coughed, her mouth feeling like it was on fire. She coughed again, and his head snapped up.