Thrill Me

by Isabel Sharpe

  Since when was any woman’s pull strong enough to interfere with his work? Hell, he could work in the middle of Grand Central Station, with people on either side of him having loud cell-phone conversations. When he was really into a story, he could work at an outdoor café, with horns honking, pedestrians whooping it up, waiters bumping into his chair. He’d even been known, on one occasion he was less than proud of, to work during a date, when an idea wouldn’t leave him alone.

  As he recalled, his date had not been amused.

  May Ellison was like the character of a yet-to-be-written guaranteed bestseller, who wouldn’t leave his mind. Especially not the strobe-stuttered image of her staring at the posing couple at Exhibit A, lips parted, eyes glazed, hand expertly working his cock.

  He’d called her twice today, left a message the second time asking if she’d see him tonight. For all he’d gotten done today, he should have just asked her to spend the day with him. He could have shown her New York; they could have gone out to eat, had a real date, instead of kink in the hotel, not that he’d trade a second of any of that.

  She hadn’t called back, and instead of shrugging it off—after all, tomorrow was her last day here, so what could they really start?—he’d fretted like a hen, like the women he’d dated had fretted over him, annoying himself like crazy in the process.

  Cluck.

  She’d seemed upset last night, maybe he’d said something wrong, though he couldn’t imagine what. Maybe his clumsy attempts to try and articulate his feelings had scared her, or she simply didn’t share them and was doing him a favor by backing off before he got in deeper. And yet—the way she looked at him, the way she’d kissed him… He wasn’t out of hope.

  She was still the same fascinating mystery to him, a combination of seductive and innocent, like a girl-next-door stripper. But instead of trying to decide which side was real, and which put on, he was starting to think that May was a genuine combination of both. A combination that clearly held a powerful attraction for him.

  He slammed both hands to the window and looked out. May had something to do with this block. She was the key. He knew it; he just hadn’t wanted to look too closely at what that signified in the context of this deeply emotional scene he wanted to write for Mack. She was screwing up his mind, but she was also making possible this new depth in his writing…and in himself. And like a kid who gets a taste of a cake and wants another and another, and then the whole piece, he craved her, to find out more about Mack, and more about himself.

  Across the street, down at the end of the block, a slender blonde in a white flowered sundress caught his eye, and his heart threatened to leap out of his chest. She walked slowly, gracefully, pausing now and then to gaze in a shop window. A man turned to watch her walk past. Beck’s fists clenched, then pushed hard against the glass, propelling him back into the room. Without thinking why, or what or how, he scooped up his key card and his wallet, threw open the door, and strode quickly down the hall for the elevator.

  10

  Note on housekeeping board:

  Anyone who cleans or turns-down 1457, check out the sketch of the HUSH roof garden. Gorgeous! Wish we could have it down here to look at!

  MAY STOPPED in front of a shop window teasing passersby with its elegant display of handbags and shoes at what she was sure would be heart-stopping prices. That much money would probably keep her in groceries for a month back in Oshkosh. She lingered, staring at a pair of bright red pumps, not so much fascinated by the merchandise as delaying returning to the hotel. Her visit with Clarissa had unleashed some of the adventuress in her, and she wanted to see more of New York. Do more. The hotel had meant safety all week, but today…today it came closer to representing confinement. Granted, the most luxurious and pampering confinement she’d ever experienced, but she craved something different right now.

  Like…what? Could she go out in New York tonight on her own? Or suggest to Beck they leave the hotel and go out on the town?

  It sounded good. No, actually, it sounded wonderful. But seeing Beck meant confronting her feelings, confronting who she was, making choices, making decisions….

  She lifted her arms in surrender and let them flop back down so the bag containing her sketch pad bonked against her side. All of which was enough to make her think about running home to Dan and begging him to take her back.

  And what kind of adventuress did that make her?

  A fake one. Who handled stress or risk by wanting to run to safety, whether that meant staying away from Beck, or longing for the carefully controlled peace of her Wisconsin existence. She might get to the point where New York didn’t overwhelm her anymore, but for all Clarissa’s assertions to the contrary, May didn’t belong here. She needed calm.

  She turned from the window and nearly bumped into Beck.

  “May.” He said her name in a serious, intense way as if discovering her on this street was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and that ever could happen to him. And if her pounding heart and the grin she couldn’t control were anything to go by, May was quite sure it felt like the best thing that had ever happened to her, too.

  So what did that tell her about needing calm? She didn’t know. And was tired of trying to figure it all out.

  “Shopping?” He gestured at a painfully pointy-toed pair of shoes in the window she’d been ogling.

  “Not me. I was having tea with Clarissa.”

  “Heading back to the hotel now?”

  May managed a guilty smile. “I was sort of avoiding it.”

  “And sort of avoiding me?”

  She sort of had been, but faced with him, so large and confident, eyes warm, breeze rippling his hair like a wheatfield, her reasons seemed forced and artificial. “Not avoiding you. Just wanting to be out and about for a change.”

  He grinned and reached to touch her hair, followed the line of her cheek down to her chin, leaving a warm, touched trail on her skin that made her want to jump him right here in the street. “Would you like to go out and about with me, Ms. Ellison?”

  She laughed. God, yes. Of course she did. How had she managed once again to make a simple situation so complicated? This was her last night in New York, and her only chance to see anything of the city on this trip since she’d been such a weenie so far about venturing out.

  More than that, she wasn’t going to worry about who she was or how she was acting, or how she felt or how he felt or what would happen tomorrow, or—

  Okay, May.

  She’d be whatever came out and see how it felt. “I’d love to.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “Now?” But she was dressed for an afternoon tea, and her—

  “You have some other pressing engagement?”

  She laughed. Why did she let everything send her into a panic? “Not a one. I’m just not done up for an evening out.”

  “You look beautiful.”

  Beautiful? Wearing only half the new fabulous makeup she’d tried out this week, lipstick worn off and hair blown wild? “Well, thank you.”

  “I saw you from my window.” He leaned forward to murmur in her ear. “Every man in New York was turning to check you out.”

  She pulled back, beaming, even though she knew he was exaggerating. “No way.”

  “Why do you think I’m out here?” He held his hands out, palms up. “I was afraid one of them would make you a better offer.”

  “There is no better offer.”

  He chuckled and the mischievous childlike dimple jumped in to crease his grown-up face. “Okay then.”

  “Okay then.”

  He turned her around and took her hand; his felt large and strong, and May experienced the extreme giddiness that only being with someone you’re madly infatuated with can bring on.

  Beck pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and held it up. “Want to play hunt the cancellation?”

  She grinned, wanting to laugh out loud from the sheer joy of being at his side. Whatever he wanted to do was fine by
her. The way she felt right now, the evening couldn’t possibly be anything but wonderful. “What’s that?”

  “See if anyone has cancelled his reservation at a fabulous restaurant so we can grab it.”

  “Oooh, that sounds like a fun game. I’d love to play.”

  “Excellent.”

  She walked alongside, bumping him sort of accidentally once in a while and listening while he dialed and spoke to various employees of the city’s finest. Le Bernardin, Nougatine, Craft, and finally…

  “Bingo. Cancellation at Nobu, we’re on.”

  “Nobu?”

  “You like fish? Sushi?”

  “I only had it once, but yes, I did like it.”

  He gave her a curious look and she realized she’d blown some of her Veronica cover, but what the heck. She was going home tomorrow and had nothing left to lose. “This is a fabulous place. And I know the perfect spot for a drink beforehand, not too far from the restaurant.”

  She smiled up at him. “Obviously I have the perfect date.”

  “Obviously.” They ambled over to Fifth Avenue chatting easily. On Fifth, Beck took it upon himself to instruct her in the fine art of hailing a cab.

  Step in street. Raise arm. Look nonchalant, not hopeful.

  Feeling only a little self-conscious and awkward, May reeled in a lovely plump yellow one on her second try, which made her swell with inane pride.

  The cab took them south, past Lord and Taylor’s, May’s mother’s favorite shopping spot—she’d often described their fabulous window exhibits at Christmas-time—then farther south where traffic slowed and Beck pointed out the Empire State Building. The Empire State Building! She’d traveled along this same route only a few hours ago on her way to tea and had missed it. Why hadn’t she come down here to see it? Why hadn’t she walked over to check out the theater district on Broadway? Why hadn’t she gone up to see Radio City Music Hall where her mother had worked? What was the matter with her? She was in New York!

  And like earlier today, the crowds didn’t seem hostile, the air didn’t seem thick, the streets didn’t seem dirty. Instead of suffocation, the buildings promised fascinating interiors and glimpses into people’s lives.

  Was she getting used to New York? Falling in love with it as Clarissa said? Or had her earlier suspicion proved true, that the world could be nothing but wonderful when Beck was with her?

  The cab continued down Fifth Avenue, past gorgeous old buildings whose ground floors housed nationally recognized chain stores, delis, shoe boutiques—did New Yorkers do anything but shop? Then the arch of the monument in Washington Square Park came into view. The cab turned left, then right onto Broadway into what Beck told her was Soho, with antique shops and churches, more upscale stores, and tall high-heeled model-gorgeous women strutting around holding shopping bags. Another right, another left, and they were at their destination: the green-awninged entrance to a place called…

  “The Bubble Lounge?”

  Beck grinned and paid the cabdriver. “A very chic Laundromat. I thought we could watch spinning underwear and get in the mood.”

  May burst into laughter as she got out of the cab. “Oh, baby. You know how to show a woman a good time.”

  He followed her onto the sidewalk, took her hand and twisted it gently behind her so she came up flush against him. He bent close and she caught her breath and a whiff of his aftershave. “I want to show you the best time you’ve ever had, May. And then I want to get you alone and show you an even better one. No floor show, no audience, no toys. Okay?”

  Okay. She mouthed the word, intending to speak, but no sound came out. Her eyes were trapped by his, her body light, sparking energy. Then he kissed her right there on the sidewalk with half of New York going by. Not a gentle kiss, either, a long, hot knee-melting kiss that made her want to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him back without caring who saw. So she damn well did.

  “Hey, man, get a room.”

  The shout and ensuing teenage laughter broke them apart, luckily before May embarrassed herself by humping his leg or something equally crazy. He took her so far out of herself she didn’t even recognize who she was. And the more he did it and the further she went, the more she liked the new bolder, more sensual person she was with Beck. If only it would last.

  He released her and they walked—okay, he walked, she floated—through the glass door and into—oh, my goodness—the Bubble Lounge. Not a Laundromat. High ceilings, dim lighting, terra-cotta floor tiles, rich red-and-gold decor, posters and prints and old illustrations of fine bottles, floor-to-ceiling mahogany shelves, velvet sofas, oriental rugs, voluptuous draperies… Despite its kitschy name, The Bubble Lounge appeared to be an homage to romantic elegance. And champagne.

  Mmm.

  The hour was too early for the after-work crowd, so they were able to pick a plush red sofa adjacent to a large window. From three hundred varieties of champagne, Beck ordered one, which came in two flutes, delicate and cold, streams of tiny bubbles continuously scurrying up for air.

  “Here’s to New York.” She lifted her glass and clinked with Beck.

  “To New York. And to meeting you.”

  What you think is me. She faked a smile and took her first sip, smiled more genuinely in pleasure at its nutty clean taste, and suddenly couldn’t stand that she’d tried to lead him on all week to think she was something other than herself. “It’s nice to get out of the hotel.”

  “It is.”

  “I spent too much time there this week. The truth was…” She started to put her champagne down on the low round table in front of their couch, then decided she might need it for fortification. “I was chicken. Not brave enough to go out on my own.”

  He frowned, and she braced herself for What’s so terrifying about a city? “You should have asked me, I would have been happy to show you around.”

  Was he just being polite? “You were working.”

  “I could have given you directions, survival tips, put you in a cab to a museum or store or show or landmark, and picked you up after. Or taken my laptop and waited while you had fun. I can work anywhere.” He looked pained, as if her lost week here was somehow his responsibility and he’d failed her.

  Which wasn’t at all the response May was expecting. “No, no, it was my fault for being so timid.”

  “New York’s not for sissies.” He drank more champagne, apparently unconcerned by her supposed-to-be-damning confession.

  Irritation pricked her. Didn’t he get it? “It’s a far cry from Wisconsin.”

  “Tell me about Wisconsin.”

  “It’s quieter, slower, less…well less everything. The town I live in is small. Not exactly up on the latest trends. You’d probably find it dull.”

  “Do you?”

  “We’ll see when I go back.” She shrugged. “Up until this week, no. But I’m a different person there.”

  “Really.” He quirked one eyebrow, then leaned in close. “Why don’t you stay in New York longer, another week or two, or a month. Get to know the city, see how you like it. Do all the sightseeing you missed this week. See what kind of person you are then.”

  Her breath misfired and she had to try again. “I’d…lose my job.”

  “Then quit and move here.”

  May attempted a laugh, sure he wasn’t serious, half-wishing he was. “Pick up my entire life and relocate after four days?”

  “Sure.” He grinned, then his expression turned serious. “You can stay with me until you find a place of your own.”

  “A kept woman.”

  “I’d keep you very well, May.”

  She hid her confusion in a long sip of champagne. This was a joke, wasn’t it? “Actually, that’s the second offer I’ve had today. Clarissa said I should move here, too. She even offered me her job.”

  “There you go. It’s settled.”

  May smiled at him, and he smiled back, and the smile went on too long and started to spark something very hot between them—and then someth
ing sweet and even more thrilling than heat. Between a celebrity author and a simple girl from Oshkosh—was she imagining it? Willing it into existence?

  She dropped her eyes and drank more champagne, probably downing it too fast to appreciate, but at this point it seemed a necessity rather than a mere beverage. The same excitement she’d felt with Clarissa at the thought of living in New York hit her, only since Beck mentioned it, the feeling came closer to exhilaration.

  Steady, May. He meant the invitation as a compliment, the way you’d tell a houseguest you’d particularly enjoyed that you wished she wasn’t leaving, even though you knew perfectly well if she stayed much longer, you’d both go nuts. This compliment she’d treasure forever, along with the rose petal she’d saved and remembered to transfer to her suitcase this morning, along with all the memories from the week.

  “There is one thing I really want to know about you, May.” Beck put his champagne down on the table.

  Uh-oh. She tried not to look as if she was bracing herself for execution. “Just one?”

  “What’s the story with this guy you were supposed to meet at Hush?”

  May took a deep breath, loosening her grip on her glass to avoid snapping the slender stem. If she told him honestly, there’d be no Veronica illusion left. But she’d come too far in how she felt about him to do otherwise. “That was pretty stupid of me.”

  “How so?”

  “He came to Wisconsin, where I work as assistant to the dean of the business school. We hit it off, and he invited me here. The one and only boyfriend of my life had just ended our six-year relationship, and I was angry and hurting, and a little out of my mind, the way you are when someone dumps you.”

  “I can imagine.” He said the words looking blank. She should have expected that. He undoubtedly did all the dumping.

  “So I agreed to spend the week with him. Then he didn’t show, and then I found out from Clarissa that he was married, which I could have pieced together myself if I had half a brain. So after all that, I was glad he didn’t show and felt naive and ridiculous for having gotten myself into it in the first place. The end.”