When they were done with dinner, Nick offered to walk her home. Her cheeks flushed with wine and laughter, she happily accepted. Anna tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and they laughingly stumbled toward her place. It was a warm summer night, and the streets of Adams-Morgan were even busier than usual. She felt some pride as people watched her walk by on the arm of the ridiculously good-looking attorney.
En route to her house, they approached a fancy new steel and glass condo building in the hottest location in the neighborhood, set a few meters back from the bars and restaurants of 18th Street. The ten-story structure loomed over the older brick town houses. Anna had heard that each unit cost over a million dollars. She wondered aloud who lived there.
“Actually”—Nick looked a little embarrassed—“I do.” He paused, considering whether to ask his next question. Finally, he turned to her and smiled. “Would you like the grand tour?”
Anna understood that this wasn’t an invitation to see how his kitchen was tiled. She gazed at Nick’s face, the absurdly long eyelashes framing his hazel eyes, the chiseled cheekbones setting off his perfect smile. With his long, loping stride and mischievous grin, he looked like a cross between a young John Cusack and Jimmy Stewart. She loved Jimmy Stewart.
Her mind was fuzzy from the wine. But one thought stood out clearly and cleanly.
She wanted him.
She had for a long time. Although her sober self would have raised rows of mental hurdles—she shouldn’t date a defense attorney, she didn’t know him well enough to be alone with him, she should take this slow—the wine submerged these objections, leaving only her desire to answer the question of whether she wanted the “grand tour.” The answer was simple.
She nodded.
Nick held the lobby door open for her, and Anna tried not to be overwhelmed by the space as she walked in. The lobby conveyed both Zen-like tranquility and pricey industrial chic. The floor and walls were black granite; the ceilings soared. An abstract steel sculpture towered in the middle. A wall of windows at the back framed a Japanese garden, where hidden lights illuminated a waterfall and koi pond. The male receptionist, dressed entirely in black, looked too much like a Calvin Klein model to possibly be straight.
The reception desk, opaque glass balanced on stacked rocks, held a bank of televisions, computers, and switches that suggested the building was equipped to make a landing on Mars. As they passed the desk, Anna caught a glimpse of herself and Nick walking by on one of the TV screens in the desk. His hand rested lightly, possessively on her lower back. They looked like a real couple.
“Heeey, Nick,” the receptionist trilled, the singsong in his tone communicating that he found Nick’s late-night company very interesting.
“Hey, Tyler.” Nick ushered Anna into the brushed-steel elevator. He hit the “PH” button. “He’s a nice guy,” Nick whispered to Anna as the doors shut. “But he’s not on the tour.”
Inside, Nick’s condo was like something from a modern architecture magazine, with gleaming wood floors, a two-story ceiling, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the shining white obelisk of the Washington Monument in the distance. A floating metal staircase led to the second story. A fireplace made of stacked slate separated the living room from the kitchen, its rock walls going all the way up to the high ceiling. Black leather couches and an impossibly thick white rug were arranged in front of the fireplace.
“Did you kill a polar bear?” Anna asked, pointing at the rug.
“No, just a helpless little alpaca. I got it in Peru.” He took her hand and led her to the hearth, where she bent down to touch the soft fur.
Nick pushed a button hidden in the slate, and flames whooshed up in the fireplace. Anna stood up, laughing. “Do you have a mirror that comes out of the ceiling, too? Maybe a vibrating bed?”
“You think I’m putting the moves on you?”
Anna nodded. “Not that that would be such a bad thing.”
Nick gently turned her to face him. He cupped her cheek with his hand, tracing her chin with his thumb.
“Anna, I’ve wanted to do this since law school.”
He slowly brought his face to hers. His breath was sweet and warm. Anna’s stomach flipped as his lips softly touched hers. All of her muscles tensed, then slowly relaxed. She melted into his body and drew him closer. He stroked her face with the back of his hand, then trailed his fingers down her neck and shoulder blades. She mirrored his touch, her tongue lightly exploring his, her hands wandering over the lithe muscles of his chest and stomach. Between kisses, Nick whispered that she was beautiful, stunning, exquisite, incandescent. She smiled and whispered back that he was a thesaurus.
She knew that his flattery, his wine-plying, his Rico-Suave bachelor pad were all part of a seduction game plan, and she wondered how many times he had used these moves before. Still, she was into it. She felt warm and tingly, relaxed yet excited, and very aroused. Warmth spread through her belly as he massaged the small of her back.
Kissing him, she pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. He deftly peeled off her clothes and then his own, so expertly she hardly noticed it, and lowered her onto the white rug. Anna giggled at the feel of fur on her back. She looked at Nick’s body as he stretched out next to her. He was lean but athletic, with the long, sinewy muscles of a runner. His skin glowed golden in the firelight.
She closed her eyes again as he brought his mouth to hers. He trailed his fingers down her neck, over her clavicle to her breasts, where he traced butterfly-soft circles across her nipples. She moaned as his tongue followed and elaborated the trail his fingers had made. He covered her stomach with gentle caresses and flicks of his tongue, exploring the hollow of her belly, the gentle rise where her hip bones protruded, the downy-soft ticklish crease where her thighs met her hips. As his head went farther down, she pulled him up by his shoulders.
“No, Nick,” she murmured, concerned not with her reputation or virtue, but when was the last time she’d had a bikini wax.
“Anna, I’ve been fantasizing about this for a long time. You wouldn’t deprive a desperate man of his fantasy, would you?” He kissed her lips as his fingers stroked where his mouth had been headed.
Anna sighed and shook her head as waves of pleasure rippled up her spine. She relaxed and let him do what he wanted, which, it turned out, was exactly what she wanted. He slowly descended again, bringing his mouth between her thighs, using his tongue and fingers to explore her, first gently and then with building pressure and urgency. Anna arched her back and cried out as she climaxed.
Nick paused for a moment, letting her catch her breath.
“Do you have a condom?” she breathed at last.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered.
She looked down, and saw that he was already wearing one, although she hadn’t noticed him taking it out. This man is a virtuoso, she thought, or some kind of evil genius. She pulled him up toward her, desperately wanting to feel him inside her. He smiled, resisted her pull, and lowered his head between her legs again. He made her come that way again, until she was clawing at his shoulders, begging him to come inside her.
Finally he did, covering her body with his own, saying her name softly as he slipped inside her. She gasped at the pleasure of his penetration. When she could breathe again, she opened her eyes. Nick was still, supporting himself on his elbows, cradling her head between his hands. Their faces were inches apart, and he was looking directly into her eyes. She felt a different kind of thrill as she gazed at him. It was a moment of perfect silence and connection, more intimate than anything that preceded it. Finally, he groaned, closed his eyes, and started slowly spiraling his hips. She wrapped her legs around his waist and moved with him, pulling him deeper inside of her. She let go of everything else—her crazy work and her crazy family and all the complications of living in the world—and just felt this: this pleasure, electricity, intimacy. They came together in a final explosive orgasm that left Anna breathless and shaky.
Nick
rolled to his side, pulling her with him. They lay facing each other, foreheads touching, their long, athletic legs tangled like linguini. She became aware again of the soft rug under her skin, the crackling fire warming her bare back. Nick was stroking her hair, smiling at her drowsily. Her body was saturated with contentment, and gratitude, and a dozen other emotions she didn’t have names for. Or maybe just too much wine. In any case, she knew that if she tried to say what she was feeling, she would sound corny and trite.
So she joked, “I’ve never been this close to an alpaca before.”
8
Anna raised her head from the pillow, disoriented. This was not her bedroom. She looked around. This was way nicer than her bedroom. The floor was polished wood, the walls were ivory, the furniture was dark wood with modern lines. She was lying in a king-sized bed covered with a dark brown comforter. Light poured in through a sheer white shade that covered a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows; she could see the vague outline of the Washington Monument through the translucent fabric. Anna sat up and brought her hands to her throbbing temples. Her mouth felt and tasted like an old sweatshirt. As she recognized Nick’s black leather briefcase in the corner, images from the previous night flashed back. She groaned.
Oh Lord, what had she done?
She heard the front door open and muted footsteps downstairs. Seeing him in the light of day was going to be awkward. She might as well get it over with. She slowly swung her legs off the side of the bed. Her whole body ached, and she didn’t see her clothes anywhere. Damn. There was a soft white bathrobe draped on a chair next to the bed. Anna pulled on the robe and shuffled to the master bathroom.
It was bigger than her living room, and tiled in light brown stone. A huge Jacuzzi sat under a skylight. She found a tube of toothpaste by the sink, put a dab on her finger and ran it over her teeth, then bent to the faucet and rinsed her mouth out. Her tongue still felt fuzzy but at least it was a minty fuzz. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair. It was the best she could do for now. Taking a deep breath, she walked out of the bedroom, emerging onto the landing at the top of the loft.
Nick looked up from where he was setting bags down on the kitchen counter below.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he called cheerfully. He was wearing khaki shorts, an orange T-shirt, and flip-flops, and was obviously less hungover than Anna.
“Hi.” She suddenly felt shy.
“Come on down.” Nick smiled. “The alpaca misses you when you’re way up there.”
Anna descended the steel staircase. “I wouldn’t want to upset the alpaca.”
Nick pulled out a stool and gestured for her to sit at the black granite countertop. “I figured you could use this.”
He set a Starbucks cup in front of her. She smiled and sipped the latte, feeling her headache recede a fraction as the caffeine hit her bloodstream. It was exactly what she needed. She looked around the kitchen. It was gorgeous, all dark wood and stainless steel and granite. The floor-to-ceiling rock fireplace was at her back.
From one of his shopping bags, Nick pulled out a box with the words JULIA’S EMPANADAS written on it. It was from a little Salvadoran joint down the street. Anna smiled with delight as she selected one of the miniature meat pies.
“I love these,” she said.
“Me too.”
Nick watched her savor a bite. Then he settled next to her at the counter and they polished off the box of empanadas. Anna sat back at last, full and content, her hangover obscured by a cloud of happiness. She studied Nick. He looked adorably unlawyerlike with tousled dark hair and an unshaven face.
“So,” Nick ventured. “Whatever happened to that guy you were seeing in law school?”
“Josh? We were talking about moving in together once we both got to D.C.”
“I always thought he was a smart guy.”
“But he got a clerkship in Atlanta. He’s staying there.”
“I always knew he was an idiot.”
Anna laughed. “No, he’s a good guy. It just turned out we weren’t serious enough to change cities for each other.”
In fact, Josh was one of the sweetest men Anna had ever met—which made him utterly undatable in the long term. Anna realized in college—when she was on the Dean’s List and her boyfriend was getting expelled—that she had a tendency to fall for bad boys. Ever since, she tried to choose nicer men. With Josh, she’d oversteered. He was so nice as to be totally uninteresting. They’d parted ways exactly as they’d dated—amicably and without passion.
“What about you?” Anna volleyed. “I seem to recall that you had plenty of female attention at law school. All those groupies at your guitar gigs in the Hark. Has there been anyone special since then?”
“Not till last night.”
She looked at him curiously, wondering if this was a standard line, as she was sure the “grand tour” was. Nick stood next to her stool and gazed down at her upturned face for a minute. He leaned down and kissed her. “Anna, I’m crazy about you.”
Anna felt her body respond to his touch now and to the memory of the night before. She’d expected this morning to be awkward, but she felt natural with Nick, completely at ease. All traces of her shyness had disappeared. She deepened the kiss, pulling him toward her.
After a moment, he drew back an inch to ask, “What are you doing today?”
It was a Saturday morning. Although she’d planned to go to the office today and work on some files, she figured that could wait.
“Well.” She regarded him mischievously. “You promised to give me the grand tour, right? But I think we only covered the rug and the bed.” Anna ran her fingers down his chest and stomach to his shorts, where she caressed the growing bulge. He sucked in his breath and nodded, watching as she stroked him. “I don’t think we hit that nice Jacuzzi in your bathroom.” She let her bathrobe fall open as she gathered his T-shirt to pull over his head. “I’d like to be thorough.”
• • •
If her life were a movie, Anna thought, the next few weeks would have been the falling-in-love montage. The time flew by in a dizzy whirlwind of late nights in the office interspersed with later nights with Nick. Most evenings, she would stop by her apartment long enough to give her cat some kibble and a pat, then rush over to Nick’s place. When she spent the night with Nick, they didn’t sleep much; they were too busy exploring each other’s bodies. Between her long hours at work and overtime in Nick’s bedroom, she was constantly sleep-deprived, but fueled by euphoria. After a few days, Nick ceremoniously presented her with her own toothbrush in the cup next to his bathroom sink. She never thought she’d be so delighted to receive the gift of oral hygiene.
They didn’t advertise their relationship, and they were especially discreet at work. They both knew they would catch flack from their colleagues when it came out. Romances between the U.S. Attorney’s Office and the Office of the Public Defender were unheard of. So Anna and Nick kept their interactions to after-work hours, and simply nodded at each other and tried not to smile too broadly when they passed each other in the courthouse. Grace sensed that something was up, but she didn’t pry. She would wait until Anna was ready to explain why her cheeks flushed pink every time her cell phone buzzed with a text message.
Nick wanted to show Anna everything, to share his city and his life with her, and he ferried her all over D.C. like the enthusiastic host of a TV travel show. They went to the trendiest bars and the best restaurants, rushing home afterward to make love. He took her hiking at Great Falls, to a baseball game in his father’s box at Nationals Park, to the Kennedy Center to see Wicked. They spent a weekend at St. Michaels, a resort town on Maryland’s eastern shore, where they lounged on a sailboat, lazily ate crabs drenched in Old Bay, and then thoroughly christened the four-poster bed at The Inn at Perry Cabin. She hadn’t known about this side of Washington—this happy, picturesque side, where beautiful people with perfect teeth played and relaxed. She hadn’t known she could feel this strongly about someone in su
ch a short time. She was falling in love with Nick.
They had no other cases against each other. Most of the time, she could forget that Nick worked on the opposite side of the courtroom. Once in a while, something reminded her with a thud.
One hot July day, they were driving to the Jefferson Memorial for a picnic by the Tidal Basin. Nick had lowered the convertible top of his BMW 650i, and Anna breathed in the fresh air. The whole city was carpeted with colorful flower beds, and her hay fever started to kick in. She opened the glove compartment, looking for tissues. Instead, she found a dull black handgun.
“Jesus, Nick!” She yanked her hand away as if it had been scorched.
Nick looked over, saw the glove compartment open, and stretched over her lap to shut it. She waited for him to say something, but he just kept driving.
“What are you doing with a gun in your car?” she demanded.
He sighed. He obviously didn’t want to get into this with her. She kept staring at him.
“Look,” he said, after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. “I have it for self-defense. When you go into Southeast, you get a police escort. I go by myself. I hadn’t planned on getting a gun, but a client gave it to me, and it’s been comforting to know it’s in there when I have to go into a rough neighborhood.”
“There’s a law against carrying handguns in D.C.”
“You’ve read Heller. The Supreme Court says that law is unconstitutional.”
“It’s still illegal to have an unregistered firearm.”
“That’s debatable. C’mon,” he said, placing his hand affectionately on the back of her neck. “Are you gonna turn me in? Stop being a prosecutor for a minute.”
Law of Attraction Page 6
