Love in the City (The Complete Collection Boxed Set)

by Liv Morris

  Pulling out of the parking garage, I’m hit with a wall of snow. The weatherman said flurries were likely this afternoon, but this is close to being a complete whiteout. My palms are starting to sweat now.

  I grip the steering wheel tightly and curse the white stuff blowing around me. Dammit. I hate driving in the snow. One would think being raised in Chicago would give me mad snow driving skills, but I have no love for the snow. I’m always a ball of tension behind the wheel when it starts sticking to the ground.

  Since the roads are completely snow-covered and getting treacherous I inch my way toward Lake Shore Drive. There’s a red light up ahead and thankfully I ease into a skid-free stop and exhale. Removing my white knuckled fingers from the steering wheel, I pull my phone out of my purse. I need to make a quick call to my mother, let her know that I’m going be late. Real late.

  “Kat!” My mother’s voice is strained and anxious. “I’ve been worried sick. Have you left work yet?”

  “Yes, I’m just about to get onto Lake Shore. But I wanted to give you a heads-up. The snow is crazy right now. Traffic is horrible, so I’ll probably be late.”

  “Oh, sweetie. I know how you hate driving in snow. Maybe you should wait until the roads are better?”

  “I’ll be okay. This is Chicago, Mom. If there is one thing they can do, it’s clean up some snow. I’ll be fine.”

  “Promise you’ll be careful and turn around if it gets worse,” she begs.

  “I promise. Please don’t worry. I’ll be okay.” I try to comfort her and I think it works because she changes the subject.

  “I baked one of your favorites today. Apple pie. As a matter of fact, I’m going to thaw some steaks. We’ll just eat at home tonight.”

  “Sounds good. I have no idea when I’ll get to the house.” I see cars starting to move in front of me. “Oh, Mom, the light turned green, better go.”

  “Bye, Kat. Drive safe, dear.”

  I say goodbye and end the call, as both of my hands are needed on the steering wheel. My neck and shoulder muscles tense up as the car moves forward. Hopefully, I can talk Mom into giving me a little shoulder rub when I get home.

  As my car inches along, my usual radio station breaks to broadcast a Special Report. Chicago’s mayor is asking, or more like pleading, that all motorists clear the roads because the street plowing crews are making little headway against the heavy snowfall. Add rush hour and New Year’s Eve travelers to the mix, and the roads were totally jam-packed leaving a complete gridlock across the city.

  I just need to get home. Home. That’s my focus now. Mom’s cooking and maybe some hot chocolate will be waiting for me. I imagine Dad sitting in his comfy chair by a roaring fire. I can almost hear the wood popping and feel the warmth from the flames.

  Now I really do hear popping sounds as car horns blare all around me. A bus has begun to swerve erratically in front of me and my foot presses hard onto the brakes. I clutch the steering wheel for dear life as my car skids toward the side of the still moving bus. It’s now sideways across all the lanes of traffic on Lake Shore Drive.

  Danger Ahead

  As the bus fishtails in front of me, I get a sick feeling in my stomach. The car next to me swerves out of the bus’s way and ends up in the ditch facing the opposite direction. I continue to slam on my brakes, but realize a chain reaction wreck is about to take place and I’m going to be a part of it.

  The next few seconds transpire in slow motion. I pump my car’s brakes, turn the steering wheel as I’ve been taught, but still my car spins out of control. It becomes clear that my fate is in someone else’s hands, so I close my eyes preparing for the inevitable crunch of metal. But it never comes. Instead, I feel a thud against the passenger side door. My head keeps moving and hits the window at my side, hard. Now my car has come to a halt, so I open my eyes to see where I’ve had landed. My vision is a little blurry but eventually focuses.

  Somehow, I’ve ended up parallel to the bus with my car’s right side pressed against the back wheel well. I’m sure I have a large dent, but the most important thing is I’ve thankfully survived to live another day. Putting my car in park, I rest my forehead against the steering wheel and say a silent prayer. Though my head hurts a little, my life was somehow spared.

  Taps at my window draw me out of my reverent moment. I look out to see a young man staring at me through the glass. He’s mouthing something and motioning for me to roll down my window. I reach for the button and roll it down.

  “Are you alright?” the stranger asks.

  “I think so,” I reply, rubbing the small knot forming by my left temple. He smiles down at me with a beautiful display of white teeth. I want to restate my condition, as the snowflakes blow around him. He makes me feel anything but okay. I must’ve hit my head harder than I realized.

  “You look a little pale. Why don’t you come and sit in my car?” His eyes have a look of concern, but I think I see a smile lurking behind them. “I have a feeling we’re gonna be here for quite awhile.”

  He points to the bus that’s hugging my car and blocking all the lanes in front of us. “Someone will have to come and tow away the bus before we can even think about moving our cars.”

  I watch snowflakes land on the young man’s black cashmere coat and can see a signature Burberry scarf peeking out from around his neck, which leads me back up to his face. It’s hard to look away from him. I’ve heard people call hot guys beautiful, but this guy really fits the description. He has a strong jaw line, high cheekbones, and intense, dark brown eyes that continue to study me. He is, without a doubt, one hundred percent delicious.

  I need to pull myself out of this beautiful boy daze and answer him. He wants me in his car, with him. Um, that sounds like a plan as I throw caution to the wind.

  I’ve seen the movie American Psycho, but right now I’m freezing and stranded in the damn snow on New Year’s Eve with a head that’s hurting. I decide to take my chances and smile up at him, feeling warm already. I did mention that he was gorgeous, right?

  “Sure, why not?” I finally answer back.

  After grabbing my purse and rolling up the window, I turn as he opens the door for me. Next thing I know he’s holding my hand and sheltering me from the wind and snow with his body as he walks me to his car. Jeez, I thought beautiful guys like him were all jerks.

  Oh please, oh please, Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome, prove all those urban rumors wrong. I want to believe in miracles today.

  Once I’m inside his car, I look around me. Quite impressive. I have no idea what kind of sports car this is, but it’s one sweet ride and expensive too. I can just tell.

  I run my hands over the smooth, leather seats as I melt into their soft luxury. I’m thinking he’s an attorney at this point, probably for one of the big firms downtown. But he does seem pretty young to have such a sweet ride. Family money, perhaps?

  The driver’s side door opens. His long suit-covered legs stretch into the floorboard as he moves into his seat. I find myself straightening up and feeling a little nervous. It isn’t everyday that a guy like him invites me into a car like this. Actually, it’s never happened to me. Maybe that little bump on my head is making me dream because this whole scenario seems a little surreal to me.

  Cashmere Knight

  I look up into his eyes. They’re shining at me. His hair has snow scattered throughout the brown waves. He runs his fingers through them and smoothes away the white specks. My eyes move to his mouth. His lips move and I simply can’t look anywhere else.

  “I guess I should introduce myself. I’m Drew Michaels.” A glove-covered hand reaches across the middle console toward me. My hand stretches out to meet his.

  “Hi, Drew. I’m Katrina Williams. Kat, for short.”

  “Hi, Kat.” He pronounces my name slowly and just above a whisper. Like he’s tasting it. I’m pretty sure my body heat has melted any snow left on me. Somehow, I need to pull myself together and respond back.

  “Thanks for lettin
g me sit in your car. It’s awesome, by the way.” I smile up at him. His head almost grazes the car’s interior roof.

  “My pleasure. I really mean that, by the way.”

  Did he just wink at me? I’m sure he did.

  “I’m glad you’re okay. Your car may be a different story, though.” He looks me over concerned. “You’re all right?”

  “Just a little head bump from hitting the window. Nothing big, really.” I neglect to tell him there’s a small knot on the side of my head and that I’m feeling a bit dizzy. The dizzy part may be his fault, after all. It’s the “hot guy talking to me” syndrome. I’ve had it a few times over the years. Makes me a bundle of nerves among other things.

  “Head injuries are nothing to scoff at. Here, show me where you hit your head.” He moves closer to me. I get a whiff of his cologne. It’s spicy and very, very nice. I point to the small bump and breathe in deep. He does smell so good. I sigh as he touches me, very, very gently.

  “There’s a good size bump.” His face is scrunched together in concentration. He has my head in both of his hands. He rubs the matching spot on the other side to compare the two. “You really need to get checked out. I’ve had my share of head injures. Football.”

  “Oh, I feel all right. Maybe a little dizzy and a dull headache. Had worse skipping coffee.” I chuckle.

  “Well, as soon as the police get here, I think you should go to the hospital. Have someone take a look at you.” He’s so serious. I nod in agreement and wish his hands were still touching me.

  Reluctantly, I move back into my seat away from him. It’s feeling colder now that I’m closer to the glass window. A slight shiver moves through me as I rub my hands over my tights-covered legs.

  “Here, let me turn on the seat warmers.”

  “That would be great. Thanks.” He really is a sweet and perceptive guy. Best snowstorm ever.

  “So you work downtown?” he inquires.

  “Yeah, I work for Fifth Third Bank at the State Street Building. I mostly focus on demographic studies. Target marketing and the like. Boring stuff.”

  “I don’t work too far from there.” He seems really interested in me. I feel slightly giddy as he continues. “I’m in the M&A department at Sloan and Farthing Partners.”

  “Oh, an accountant?” I raise my brow. “I had you pegged as an attorney.”

  “I’m afraid not. Just a corporate accountant. Nothing sexy, sorry.” And there’s that wink of his again. He’s beyond adorable and the sexiest accountant I’ve ever met.

  “You must make a lot of money to afford the monthly payment on this car.” After speaking the words, I immediately want to retract them. What a nosy thing to say but Drew seems rather amused by my verbal diarrhea.

  “Would it help if I told you I got quite the deal on it?” He laughs while looking amused.

  “I’m sorry. It’s really none of my business.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve always had a thing for expensive sports cars. When a merger I was working on closed last summer, I used every penny of my bonus for a big down payment. Probably an impulsive decision, but I’ve enjoyed every single mile in this seat.”

  “I’m enjoying this seat too.” And I am enjoying it, immensely. The view of him decked out in wool and cashmere, the smell of his cologne, and the feel of fine leather are a dangerous mix to me. I’m not sure yet, but I have a feeling that I’m going to be in trouble if we stay huddled in this car too long. My mind is starting to wander and wonder.

  What would his lips feel like against mine? Would his kiss be gentle or passionate? If he started something, would I even want to stop him?

  Probably not.

  But I’ve lived “no boys allowed” since The Cheater got caught, well, cheating. And I’ve often hoped some plague would descend on him or his most prized part. But this guy, Drew Michaels, was the complete package. Handsome, sweet as honey, and obviously successful. I pray he’s straight because guys like him are an endangered species in my experience.

  A comfortable quiet falls between us and we silently listen to the traffic reports on the radio. All over Chicago, roads were closing due to the snow. When a reporter announces that Lake Shore Drive is being shut down because of a jackknifed bus, we look at each other knowing that we’re in for a long wait.

  “Looks like we’re going to be holed-up in here for awhile,” he says, sounding frustrated.

  “Probably so. I hope someone can make it through and move the bus. Otherwise, we’re screwing, I mean, screwed. Screwed, yeah, that’s what I meant to say.” I want to bury my face in my hands or in his actually.

  “Kat, you’re funny.” He smiles at me and I melt a little more into the seat. “I’m beginning to think you’d keep a guy like me on my toes. I like that.”

  “I’d like that too.” I feel my face heating up and probably turning a bright red. “Jeez, I could really use a drink or a whole bottle right now.” My laugh is a nervous giggle.

  “Hey, I bought some brandy for my parents. It’s in the backseat.”

  “Do you think it’s alright for me to have a drink? You know with my head and all.”

  “Probably a little bit to warm you up would be okay.” Once again I’m treated to his sexy little wink. Who needs brandy to warm them up when he’s doing that?

  He starts leaning my way and reaching behind me. Yes, I am definitely screwed.

  Warming Up

  He’s looking straight into my eyes, only inches away from my face, as he pulls a bag from the back of the car. Sadly, he sits back up and places it on his lap.

  “I bought this for my father.” He points to the bag. “It’s his favorite brandy and came in a set with two matching glasses so we’re covered.”

  I watch as he pulls the bag’s contents out. The bottle contains a rich amber-colored liquid. Brandy, I assume.

  “Martel XO Cognac 80 proof. It doesn’t get any better. Here, hold this glass while I pour you three fingers,” he instructs.

  I focus on two things in his last words he spoke—80 proof and three fingers. I’m pretty sure that I need to be careful, because the brandy he’s pouring into my glass smells stronger than any liquor I’ve ever smelled.

  “Maybe we should work up to three fingers. Start slowly.” I giggle, inappropriately. “I think this stuff could put some hairs on my chest and I’m not sure how I’ll explain that to my waxing girl.”

  Holy crap. My waxing habits seem a little too personal for a “we just met an hour ago” conversation. However, he appears amused by my words and keeps pouring the amber liquid into my glass while he chuckles, most likely at my expense.

  “I wouldn’t let you drink something that puts hairs on your, um, chest,” he says, and the dirty rascal continues to snicker. “So you’re safe for now with your waxing girl.”

  “Funny.” I scoff and bring the glass up to my nose for a quick sniff. “I have to confess that I’ve never tried brandy. Should I sip it?”

  “Never tried brandy, huh?” His eyes twinkle with amusement. “Place the bottom of the snifter glass in the palm of your hand. Your body temperature will warm up the brandy.”

  “Like this?” I ask him after removing my gloves and tentatively placing the brandy glass in my palm.

  “Yes. Now take slow sips and let the brandy flow down your throat. You should feel a warmth as you swallow.”

  I follow his instructions, sipping and slowly swallowing. I watch as he focuses on my lips and then my throat. I’m pretty sure he swallowed too, though he hadn’t drunk anything yet.

  After that gulp by Mr. Michaels, I decide to up the ante a bit. Getting stuck in a snowstorm with a hot guy doesn’t come along every day, or any day for that matter, so it’s time to seize the moment. Carpe Diem.

  With my eyes focusing on his, I take another sip, and run my brandy-coated tongue over my lips and wink. It’s my turn to pull out the charm. At least that’s my hope.

  He stares at me for a bit and then shakes his head with a smirk on his lips.
I laugh as he removes his scarf, unbuttons the top of his cashmere coat and loosens his tie. I swear there’s some steam rising from his collar too.

  “What’s the matter, Drew? Getting a little hot?” I purposely purr my questions. He shrugs his shoulders and I decide to keep pressing him. “Perhaps you need a little help with that tie.”

  I turn toward him and lean in closer as he nods like an obedient little boy. Perhaps, my tongue and wink combination were a little too much for him, as he appears slightly stunned.

  My fingers work quickly to release the knot in his red, silk tie. Slowly, I pull on one end while I gaze up at him coyly through my lashes. Inch by inch, the tie gradually falls away from beneath his collar. He lets out a soft moan as I collect the fallen end from his lap. Gathering the tie in my hand, I decide the rearview mirror would be its best resting place.

  “Let’s leave your tie on the rearview mirror. Who knows, we might need it later.” I pause and realize I might have been to forward. “Just kidding.”

  “You’re really something else, Kat.” His sexy smile is mixed with a sweet shyness.

  “So I’ve been told.” My sarcasm isn’t hidden.

  “What did you think of the brandy? Too strong?”

  “It’s different. Maybe an acquired taste?” I swirl the amber liquor in my glass after taking another sip.

  I’m beginning to feel warm now too, so I sit up in my seat, purposely unbuttoning my coat and wiggle my arms free one at a time. It now hangs empty at my sides.

  “Getting a little hot, too?” he questions, slyly.

  “Yes, between the brandy and you, I am.” I arch my brow at him and look around for the other brandy sniffer that he took out of the gift bag. “But where’s your glass? I think you need a drink too, Mister.”

  “Is that so?” I watch him reach for something on the floor in front of him. Sitting back up, he now has the other brandy glass resting in his hand.

  “You’ve three fingered me; now it’s your turn.” We both look at each other, jointly shocked by my words.