I felt a warm hand on my shoulder and I looked up. The suited man was gazing down at me with the most incredible pair of blue eyes that I had ever seen. They were the color of cobalt blue, reserved and calculating as he regarded me. I didn’t think it was possible for eyes to be so vibrant. For a moment, I presumed he wore colored contacts. However, as I continued to stare, the depths of his eyes were endless and seemed to swallow me whole. The intensity of them sent a shiver up my spine and raised the hairs on the back of my neck.
He’s definitely not wearing contacts.
Somewhere in the distance, I heard Mr. Roberts speaking again. “Did you hear me? I asked if you were okay? This is Mr. Stone. He’s trying to help you up.”
“Mr. Stone?” I asked, half in a daze. I couldn’t tear my focus away from those astonishing deep blues.
“That’s correct. And you might be?”
Stone’s voice was smooth and confident as he lowered himself to a crouching position next to me. Running his hand down the side of my arm, he rested it near my elbow. I felt my pulse quicken at his sudden closeness and from the heat that surged off of him in a palpable wave. He was just so there, radiating with power, eyes level with mine.
He repeated his question a second time, again asking me my name. All I could think of was the hand that was firmly present on my arm, warming my skin through the sleeve of my thin cotton shirt. His touch sparked an electric shock, igniting a presence in me that I hadn’t known existed. Butterflies twirled and danced in my stomach. I shook my head to collect my bearings and gave myself a quick reprimand.
Um, hello? He’s asking you a question! Get a grip - he’s just a guy in a suit for crying out loud!
“I’m K-K-Krys,” I finally stammered out. I sounded like an idiot, I was sure of it. I fidgeted with my hands and licked my lips, my mouth suddenly feeling as dry as the Sahara Desert. A dangerous look flashed in Stone’s eyes. It happened so fast that I couldn’t be sure if it was only my imagination.
“Krys? Is that short for something else?” He sounded displeased.
Is there something wrong with my name?
When I didn’t answer immediately, Jim responded for me. “It’s short for Krystina. Krystina Cole.”
It was hard to miss the expression of irritation on Stone’s face as he slowly turned his head to look at Jim.
“Why, thank you Mr. McNamara for speaking on Miss Cole’s behalf. However, I would have preferred to hear it from Miss Cole herself,” he said curtly.
“Well, Miss Cole appears to have lost her voice,” Jim retorted back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Jim!” Mr. Roberts hissed.
Stone simply ignored both Jim and Mr. Roberts and turned back to me. He stood gracefully and held out his hand.
“Please, allow me to help you up,” he offered.
I didn’t know if I could stand, and not because of the fall I took. I was completely mesmerized by this man. It was as if he had me under a spell, and I didn’t trust my shaky legs.
I took hold of his outstretched hand and carefully moved to stand up. His grip was strong and firm as he pulled me to my feet. He reached his free arm around me, securing it against my lower back, in an attempt to balance me. His hold was steadfast, pinning me against his side, eyes never once wavering from mine. My cheeks flushed crimson, and those striking blues darkened. I felt my heart rate accelerate even faster as I returned his gaze. He was so close to me. I couldn’t stop myself from breathing in his scent – a heady combination of sex and sin.
“I’m sure she could have gotten up on her own you know,” Jim said irritably, reminding me of the humiliating predicament I was in. I blinked, my clouded vision clearing.
Ugh! Go away Jim!
I wanted to grab one of the canned goods off the nearest shelf and throw it at Jim’s skull.
Much to my disappointment, Stone slowly removed his arm from around my waist, took a step back and released my hand. Once he was sure that I was steady on my feet, he broke his gaze from mine and turned his head toward Jim. I could no longer see the look on Stone’s face, but it must have intimidating. Jim seemed to visibly cower and took a few steps back.
Mr. Roberts, having noticed the tension that was on the verge of boiling over, made a loud show of clearing his throat and was quick to dismiss Jim to do some other task in the dairy department.
“But, Mr. Roberts, I was supposed to –,” Jim started in protest.
“Jim, please go help Melanie. Now. She’s alone in the department today and I’m sure she could use a hand unloading the truck that just arrived,” Mr. Robert ordered Jim sternly.
Jim looked in my direction, his face creased in a scowl, and stomped away. I couldn’t care less about what Jim was supposed to do. I was still thunderstruck, having uttered no more than four words since setting my eyes on the daunting Mr. Stone. Normally I was a chatterbox, but I was so taken by the man in front of me, I had been stunned into silence. I forced myself to do a reality check.
Pull yourself together already!
I looked at the two remaining men. Mr. Roberts had a worried expression on his plump face. Stone, on the other hand, wore a look of amusement. I followed the direction of his stare and realized that he had been looking down at my espresso stained work shirt, wet and plastered to my torso.
Once again, I began to feel an embarrassing flush creep up my neck.
So what? I fell. Big deal. Accidents happen. Sure, I’m a stuttering idiot too, but that isn’t my fault either. Nobody should be allowed to be as savagely gorgeous as he is. My reaction is just natural. I’m sure every woman he meets wants to jump his bones.
Jump his bones? Did I really just think that?
It was time to leave – and fast. I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t understand how this man was able to unnerve me so. I couldn’t even talk, let alone form a coherent thought. I only knew that I was mortified and could no longer endure his penetrating stare.
I began to slowly back away, using caution so that I didn’t slip again on the wet floor. Mr. Roberts was rambling on about terrible planograms and schematics that needed to be changed. Stone continued to watch me a moment longer before turning his attention back to Mr. Roberts. I took advantage of the distraction to make my escape, but not before chancing one more glance at the hypnotizing Mr. Stone.
He was looking at me again, a bad-boy smile curling up the edges of his lips. He held up his hand to silence Mr. Roberts.
“Have a good day, Miss Cole. I’ll be seeing you soon.”
He said it like it was a promise.
And then the realization struck me – he was the investor.
****
I watched her walk away. Actually, run away would have been a more accurate description. I smiled to myself, intrigued by the very embarrassed, yet delectable, Miss Cole. Her pouty mouth, round chocolate colored eyes, and ready blush made my dick twitch.
“I’m so sorry about that Mr. Stone. Krystina and I were just discussing how that display needed to be changed. It just goes to show how much our vendors know about merchandising,” the round man in front of me said with a nervous laugh.
“Yes, indeed,” I murmured absently, my eyes still following the captivating young woman as she continued her way to the front doors of the supermarket chain. “Walter, tell me about that woman. I assume she’s an employee?”
“Oh, yes. Krystina has worked here for years. Great eye for merchandising, that one does,” Walter Roberts observed, following my gaze. “I hate the thought of losing her.”
“Is she going somewhere?”
“Hopefully not, but I’m sure it won’t be long before she lands herself a fancy marketing job,” Roberts said regretfully.
“Marketing, you say?” I asked, turning my attention back to the storeowner.
“Yes, I believe that was her major,” he answered cautiously.
Roberts narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously.
Hmm…protective of her, are we?
I glan
ced back again, only to barely catch a last glimpse of her tight jean clad ass, as the front doors closed behind her. I wished that I had more time to converse with her, but between her fall and that annoying store clerk, there had been little opportunity for talking before she took off.
That clerk…what was his name? Jim something or another?
I absently wondered if he was her boyfriend, and was surprised to find that the possibility bothered me. I hoped that he wasn’t.
Walter Roberts cleared his throat annoyingly, as if he were trying to remind me of the business at hand. It was no matter. I knew a smart investment when I saw it. There was no need to dawdle in the store any longer. After all, time was money. And while I had plenty of the latter, I was now pressed for time. If I stayed much longer, I wouldn’t be able to catch up with Krystina Cole.
“I’ll have my lawyers draw up a proposal, one that I think you will find satisfactory. We can discuss things further at a later date,” I shrugged off.
“Well, er...,” Roberts faltered. “Mr. Stone, don’t you want to see the rest of the store? Or perhaps some of our other locations?”
“No, I believe I’ve seen enough here to make a decision. I’ll be in touch,” I dismissed.
I left Walter Roberts gaping after me, as I made my way to the front entrance. Pulling my cell out of my jacket pocket, I hit the number one on speed dial.
“Hale, did you see which way that brunette went?” I asked into the phone.
“Which brunette, sir? There must have been a hundred that walked by in the past thirty minutes,” my security detail told me.
I pushed through the turnstile front doors of the grocery store, and glanced back and forth down the street. There was no sign of her.
Damn it!
“Ah, forget it, Hale. I’m finished here. Bring the car around.”
I’ll catch up with you eventually, Miss Cole.
CHAPTER 2
By the time I got back to my apartment, it was after four o’clock. I mourned for the lost day of relaxing in the sunshine as I tossed my keys, purse, and cracked cell phone onto the corner table by the front door. I was bone-tired and now it was too late in the day for reading in Central Park.
I contemplated taking my latest mystery novel to the nearby Washington Square, but ended up deciding against it. At this time of the day, I knew that the park would be filled with music from street performers. The chance of relaxing in quiet solitude would be slim to none. In fact, just the thought of going back out was exhausting. Curling up on the couch would have to do.
I kicked off my sneakers and looked around the apartment. After more than four years of residing in Greenwich Village, I still wasn’t completely comfortable with the fifteen hundred square foot flat that I lived in, even though the three bedrooms unit was more than spacious enough for Allyson and me.
We each had our own rooms and master baths, complete with custom vanities and heated marble floors. We had turned the third bedroom into an office, and added a sleeper sofa that was used for overnight guests. The arrangement worked out well whenever our friends or parents came for a weekend visit.
The place was truly beautiful, but I never felt like it was mine. Maybe if I were the one who paid the rent, I would feel differently. But then again, if my mother weren’t so neurotic about my safety in New York City, I could have flat out refused my stepfather’s extravagance and lived someplace that was within my budget. However, my mother didn’t want me living in a tiny apartment in Brooklyn, which was all I could afford, and her lectures about crime in Brooklyn were endless.
Nevertheless, I drew the line there. I allowed Frank to pay the rent, but I refused to take the monthly stipend that was offered to me. I was perfectly capable of making my own money and buying my own food. My insistence on taking out student loans to pay for my college tuition was another huge battle with my mother, probably one of our biggest fights ever, but one that I took satisfaction in winning.
My mother and I were like night and day. I was determined to make it in this world on my own. The sooner I could break free from my financial dependence on Frank, the better. My mother, on the other hand, seemed content to just be a rich man’s wife. She could never understand why I wanted to do things on my own, especially when Frank was always so willing to foot the bill.
Yet, as infuriating as she could be, I knew that my mother’s heart was in the right place. She worried about me and didn’t want me to struggle like she had to for so many years, a fact that Allyson was always good at pointing out. Allyson was the only one who was able to talk me down after a heated battle with my mother.
In fact, I wasn’t sure if I could have managed to live here without Allyson, and I was thankful to have her as a roommate. She appreciated Frank’s lavishing’s more than I did and worked to make our apartment a place to call home.
I was absently thinking about where my friend might be tonight, when the rumble in my stomach reminded me that it was almost dinnertime. I flipped on the stereo and went into the kitchen. Thirty Seconds to Mars blared through the speakers as I opened the refrigerator to peruse the contents. I spotted last nights leftovers on the shelf. The thought of a glass of wine and left over pasta had my mouth watering. I was hungry, but I was a sticky coffee mess and needed to shower first.
I closed the refrigerator and went over to our makeshift wine bar to pour a glass of Bully Hill Riesling. Sitting on the bar was a note from Allyson.
Hey you! I called your cell but it went right to VM. Clear your schedule for tomorrow night. 7 P.M. Dinner and drinks at Murphy’s. I have news for you. Enjoy your wine!
Love ya! ˜ A
I smiled to myself as I swirled the sweet vintage around in my glass. My friend knew me too well. With the hubbub at Wally’s over the potential inventors, the past week had been a rough one. Allyson was right to assume that I’d unwind with a bit of vino.
“Oh, Ally. I wish you were home tonight,” I said aloud to myself, raising my glass in silent cheers to my friend.
I really wanted to talk to her about what had happened today with the sexy Mr. Stone. I felt like a complete idiot. I knew that she would probably fall over laughing at my story, but then she’d pour us both a drink and reassure me that I wasn’t really a clumsy fool. Her laughter and assurances would have been the perfect medicine after such a mucked up day.
I headed back towards my bathroom, glass in hand, wondering what news Allyson had for me. I turned on the shower and adjusted the water temperature before stripping out of my jeans and cappuccino stained shirt. When I faced the mirror, I was shocked at what I saw.
My eye wasn’t just slightly swollen like I had originally thought it might be. It was turning a deep purple, with a small gash over my right eye. I peered closely in the mirror and tried to decide how much makeup I would need to cover up the bruise. I gingerly poked at the swollen eye for a minute before standing up to examine my reflection.
My hair was in complete disarray. I reached up to smooth out the unruly curls.
Just great. Blue Eyes got to see me rocking the Medusa look.
I turned to one side, then the other. My behind was sore and I was surprised to see that there wasn’t any bruising. However, despite the fact that I managed to escape any real damage to my rump, I still frowned at what I saw.
I really need to hit the gym.
A week off and I was already seeing and feeling the effects. My voluptuous behind wasn’t going to fit into a size six much longer if I didn’t get back into a routine. Some girls were just naturally skinny. Unfortunately, that wasn’t me. I had to work at it.
My stomach rumbled yet again, reminding me to get a move on.
I quickly showered, then went back to the kitchen to heat up the leftover pasta. Once the microwave beeped, signaling that the food was heated, I tiredly made my way into the living room with a steaming bowl of garlic pesto farfalle. I sat down on the couch and sank into the deep cushions, relishing the feeling of my weary bones settling, as every muscle
in my body began to relax for the first time that day.
Angelo’s right. I have been working too much lately.
I leaned over to pick up my book from the coffee table and opened it to where I had it marked.
An hour later, I found myself staring at the words in front of me. I had only read five pages, and had barely comprehended any of them. I couldn’t concentrate at all on the text. Every time I would start a new sentence, my focus would drift to a pair piercing sapphire eyes. Eyes so powerful, that just the thought of them had my stomach doing flips.
Who is the man with the blue eyes? Is he the investor?
If he was, hopefully today’s mishap didn’t mess anything up for Wally’s. I’d hate to be the reason for a potential investor to pull out. The memory of his promise to see me again echoed through my mind.
Why did he say that?
So many questions bounced around in my head. Frustrated over my lack of concentration, I set the book aside and brought my empty dinner bowl to the kitchen sink.
Maybe if I have a few answers about exactly who this mysterious man is, then I’ll be able to stop thinking about him.
I retrieved my laptop from my bedroom and went back to the couch. Once the computer was fired up, I started to type BLUE EYES into the search engine, but then I caught myself.
Seriously? What is wrong with me?
I erased the letters and typed STONE NYC instead. I scrolled through the list of articles. Information on gem stones, imported stones, and commercial stones populated my screen. I frowned at the findings. It was obviously not what I had been looking for.
I narrowed the search and tried STONE NYC INVESTOR WALLYS. That turned up better results. Right away I saw an article related to Wally’s and I clicked on it.
“Despite the many problems, there may still be hope on the horizon for Wally’s Grocery Store. The New York City real estate tycoon, Alexander Stone, is looking to step in and possibly save the struggling grocer.”
Heart of Stone Page 2
