by Cat Johnson
Damn. Now his dick really was awake. He moved the newspaper he was holding in front of him and directed his attention upward as she pointed to the constellations above them, wrestling his mind away from the image of taking her on the roof of his apartment building under the real stars.
“…built in 1913 but was nearly taken down by developers in the nineteen seventies. Grand Central was preserved by the efforts of New Yorkers, led by Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. Conservation efforts began in 1996 with the cleaning of the Main Concourse Sky Ceiling. Now you may have noticed there is something strange about the constellations.”
She paused for dramatic effect and all the rapt listeners nodded, himself included, waiting for her explanation as she continued. “That’s because—“
Then his cell phone rang, sounding louder as it interrupted her speech than it ever had in the entire time he’d owned it. With a mumbled curse Rick stepped quickly away from the group and answered it, thinking how he really wanted to know what was up with the stars.
“Yeah?”
“Anything?”
“Not yet. I’ve been here all day and I’ve been pretty much everywhere I’m allowed to go, plus a few places I wasn’t. Nothing.”
“Damn it. How the hell can so much stuff be moving through there and not be seen?” His contact sounded as frustrated as he felt.
“I have no clue.” But it was Rick’s job to find out. “Maybe it’s an inside job.”
“You mean an employee there?”
“Could be. They have access to restricted areas. Nonpublic areas.” Areas he could get into if he tried hard enough, but it would be a risk if he got caught.
“So what the hell you gonna do? Get a job at Grand Central as a janitor or something?”
Rick nodded. “If I have to.”
He heard his contact laugh. “I’d love to see that. Keep me informed.”
“You got it.” Rick disconnected the call, pasted on an apologetic look, and rejoined the tour. The one upside was that after the phone call, his dick was now behaving itself again, but he’d still missed the constellation talk because now they were headed for Vanderbilt Hall and she was talking about rededication galas and special events or some crap.
The tour ended much too soon, in his opinion. He would have liked to listen to her talk more but in just half an hour she had led them all back to the Information Booth where they had first started and asked if anyone had any final questions. Rick had some questions he would personally like answered, such as did she like it better on top or on the bottom? What did her hair smell like? Was she soft or loud? But he didn’t think that was what she meant.
“How do you get to be a tour guide here?” A little grey haired lady next to him asked a far more appropriate question.
Beth smiled. “The tours are run by the Municipal Arts Society and all the guides are volunteers. I take a lot of the tours because I happen to work here at Grand Central in the Conservation Department, so it’s convenient for me to just pop upstairs for half an hour on my lunch break.” She shrugged modestly.
Well, well, thank you to Granny for asking such a helpful question.
A few more questions got asked and answered but none were as important or pertinent as that first one. She worked here at Grand Central, an employee with inside access and knowledge. This could be the answer Rick sought. It may just save him from having to get a job scrubbing the train station toilets and he now had an excuse to cozy up to sweet, soft spoken Beth. Winwin as far as he could see. This assignment was proving to be far more enjoyable than he’d expected.
Straightening his spine, Rick waited for the crowd to thin before turning his irresistible charm on her.
He was on her tour. The man who had been staring at her earlier.
More than that, he was headed right for her now. She felt her heart race and her cheeks grow hot. Her interns were correct. It had been so long she had forgotten. And if she got this nervous at the idea of talking to a guy, what the hell would she be like once, or rather if, they got physical?
Oh boy. She was in trouble if she was already picturing sleeping with this tall, dark, and handsome stranger. In reality he was probably just approaching to ask something he was too shy to ask in front of the group. People did that sometimes when they were afraid they would look stupid by asking a silly question, although this guy looked neither shy nor stupid. Then he was directly in front of her and blinding her with the most brilliant smile and beautiful green eyes she had ever seen. She had to concentrate on remaining on her feet rather than contemplating his IQ.
“Um, uh, hi. Did you, uh, have a question?” Real smooth there. She’d stuttered like a nerdy schoolgirl when faced with the star quarterback.
His smile never wavered but instead grew until his eyes crinkled in the corners. “Yeah, actually, I do have a question. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”
“I don’t drink coffee.” That unbidden truth came blurting out before she could stop it. Darn it. What was she thinking? If he had offered to buy her turpentine to drink she should have simply smiled and said yes.
Now he probably thought she wasn’t interested. She was definitely going to die a spinster. Alone. Her body eaten by her thirty cats because no one noticed or cared she was dead. And she might possibly never have sex again before her grotesque death.
He tipped his head to one side and grinned. “Ah, I should have guessed. You’re more the herbal tea type.”
She felt herself blush deeper. Could she help it if caffeine made her jittery? She dropped her gaze, embarrassed and not sure if she should feel insulted or not, until his hand beneath her chin raised her focus to his eyes.
“I can do tea, when the motivation is right.” He was touching her and she liked it.
“Um, okay, I guess…” More stuttering.
One would never know she had been called upon to address assemblies of hundreds of people and discuss her conservation work on numerous occasions. She could go on for hours about preservation techniques but it seemed she was incapable of a single coherent sentence when the topic was herself and the audience one hot guy…with really nice pecs and very strong looking thigh muscles.
Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket and she physically jumped and let out a tiny yelp that had him pulling his hand back from her and frowning. She cringed inwardly, probably outwardly too.
“I’m sorry. Cell phone.” Pulling it out of her pocket, Beth turned slightly to the side and answered, “Hello.”
“I think you need to get down here.” Robby’s voice sounded serious.
“Where? Why? What’s wrong?” She glanced up and saw the stranger watching her. Now she was babbling, but at least she was no longer stuttering.
“We’re outside the Oyster Bar and we found something that looks pretty major in one of the ceiling tiles.”
“Major how?”
“A crack. And I mean a big ass crack and it’s new too, not one of the old ones that just grew.”
If she were the type who cursed, this would have been the perfect time for a doozy. “I’ll be right down.”
She took one step and then stopped and suddenly remembered she had been about to make a date. Wasn’t this just perfect? The situation was totally representative of her entire life, but in microcosm. Her job getting in the way of her social life. The reason she hadn’t had a date in what felt like forever and hadn’t had sex in longer than that.
She glanced into this stranger’s eyes and decided enough was enough. If fate was kind enough to throw this delicious man into her path for whatever reason, she wasn’t going to ignore it or him without taking at least a small taste. Beth forced a smile and hoped it didn’t look as nervous as she felt. “Would you like to come with me and see a very rare insider’s view of the conservation and preservation efforts here at Grand Central Terminal?”
He treated her to a crooked grin and made her heart do another flip. “I would love to. Lead on.”
The dubious wisdom of her invitation to the
stranger became apparent with every step they took toward her two interns and the “big ass crack” they had found. Robby spotted them first and elbowed Lyssa, whose eyes popped open wide and mouth formed a surprised “oh”. By the time Beth and her date reached the pair, both were grinning like fools and blatantly staring.
Stifling a groan, Beth decided the only thing to do would be to take the offensive position. “Okay. Where is this crack you found?”
Chapter Three
Rick watched the formerly shy tour guide blossom into a take charge professional, fascinated by what amounted to a tiny crack in some old brick in the ceiling. As she and the young brunette took photos, measurements and notes, he stood by and observed. All while he himself was observed. The young guy who’d been with the brunette kept looking at him and grinning. Finally, Rick turned toward him and extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Rick.”
The kid’s smirk widened. “Rick, huh? I’m Robby, one of Beth’s interns. That’s Lyssa over there. She’s the other intern for this year. So, uh, Beth’s never mentioned you before. When and where’d you two meet?”
Rick raised a brow over the obvious fishing expedition. “I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it.” He shrugged, not wanting to give the kid any information just on principal.
Not that there was anything yet to tell. Rick would work on that though. There was no reason he couldn’t get the inside track on Grand Central Terminal and enjoy the company of a pretty woman at the same time.
Unfortunately, he had to get this kid’s attention off him first, and his evasiveness seemed to only intrigue the intern further as Robby beamed more brightly. “I can’t wait to hear it.”
Ah, Jesus. This kind of attention he did not need. Not while undercover and investigating a case that could blow this city wide open.
“So what’s the big deal with this cracked brick? Can’t you just replace it with a new one?” Rick attempted a diversionary tactic, trusting that these geeky conservation students would be even more into talking about old stuff than gossiping.
Robby’s eyes opened wide. “Replace it? Are you crazy? These are the original, turn of the century, self supporting, interlocking terracotta tiles designed and patented by none other than the famous architect Rafael Guastavino. Dude, you can’t just replace it.”
Bingo. Rick didn’t know who this architect guy was or why his tiles were so important, but he smothered a smile at his own cleverness because Robby was now totally off the subject of him and Beth and on to another topic altogether.
He decided to push the kid a little farther over the edge. “Oh. Well then just throw some grout or clear caulk or glue or something on the crack.”
The kid actually grabbed his own long, curly hair in frustration at that comment. “What? No. First of all, we have to figure out what’s causing the crack, then we need to stabilize it to prevent further damage.”
“Oh.”
Rick was proud of himself and his diversionary tactics until Robby frowned, cocked his head to the side, and asked him directly, “What do you do for living?”
Perhaps he wasn’t so clever after all, but luck seemed to be on his side because just then Beth came toward them, looking apologetic. “I’m really sorry. This is going to take longer than I expected.”
Shit. Rick turned to Robby. “Could you give us a sec?”
That elicited the expected schoolboy grin. “Sure.” He scooted directly to the brunette for some gossip, Rick was sure, but he didn’t care because he had Beth alone for the moment and that was all he needed.
“How about tonight? I certainly hope you’re not going to sit here all night long and watch this crack.” He was joking but actually, from what he had seen of her and her team so far, that might be the plan.
She smiled. “No. I’ll set up a machine to monitor vibrations overnight and then measure the crack again in the morning. There’s not much else I can do tonight until I have those readings.”
He returned her smile. “Good. Meet me later then. Dinner, drinks, herbal tea…whatever you want.”
Rick watched the struggle going on inside of her clearly written on her face as she decided. The woman better never try to play poker. She totally did not have a poker face.
Finally she nodded slowly. “All right. I’ll give you my cell phone number.” Then she stopped, pencil poised above her pad of paper, eyes opened wide. “I don’t even know your name.”
He bet this was the first time she had ever agreed to a date without even knowing the guy’s name. He’d done far more than that with women without ever knowing their names, but he could tell Beth was so far out of her comfort zone he feared she would go running back into it if he didn’t act quick.
This was not the kind of woman he usually took home from a bar, fucked, then asked her name…if they got around to that last part at all. He took the pencil and paper from her hands and wrote his name and his cell phone number, figuring she would feel better if the control lay in her own hands. Smiling, he handed the pad back to her. “Rick Jones. My cell phone number is on the paper. Call me when you get off work and I’ll meet you wherever you want. Hell, we can eat right here if you like. I’m finding Grand Central very interesting and that way you’ll be near your bricks.”
Visibly relieved, she glanced down at his name and number, then smiled up at him and nodded. “All right. I’ll call you if anything comes up, but unless things change let’s plan on meeting here at the Oyster Bar around sixish?”
“Perfect.” That would give him a few hours to do another sweep of the building, get in touch with his contact about this new tactic to get inside information, and come up with a convincing story about who this alias Rick Jones was and why he would be hanging around Grand Central Terminal in New York for days at a time. One thing he knew for sure, Rick Jones was going to be very interested in both this train station as well as the woman in charge of keeping it from literally falling to pieces.
Was she putting too much thought into this? Beth stood in front of the store mirror and agonized over the tight black and very formfitting sweater as the sales girl stood by not so patiently and waited for her to make her decision. “Are you sure it isn’t…I don’t know…too revealing?”
The clerk raised a brow. “It’s long sleeved with a high scoop neck.”
Beth guessed that was a no and sighed. She didn’t have time to run home and change before her date. Date. Even just that word made her heart jump. Luckily her second home, Grand Central, was chock full of stores. She figured if she bought a black sweater to wear with the beige pants from her suit instead of the white button-down cotton shirt and suit jacket she’d worn to work, she would look dressed up enough for dinner at the Oyster Bar. And the black actually brought out her blonde hair.
So why was this decision so difficult? Maybe because the last time she had dressed for a date was so far in the distant past she couldn’t even remember what she had worn.
Glancing at her watch she saw it was nearly quarter to six. “All right. I’ll take it. And I’ll wear it out if you could just cut the tags off and ring it up.”
The clerk looked relieved to be close to getting rid of her after the nearly twenty minutes of indecision. “No problem.”
She headed off to get scissors while Beth took the opportunity to observe how badly her hands were shaking as she took out her credit card. They had been shaking since she’d gotten up the nerve to accept Rick’s invitation to the Oyster Bar.
After completing her transaction, she made her way to the restaurant, her heart pounding harder as each step brought her closer. Worse than that, the entire way she kept thinking that Robby and Lyssa were right. She was so out of practice when it came to dating that it would be funny were it not so sad.
Well she would remedy her dating drought here and now. When she saw Rick and noted how his gaze took her in from head to toe and then back again, she suspected her sexual dry spell might be coming to an end soon also. She swallowed hard at that thought and realized she didn
’t seem to have enough saliva to even do that. For the first time in her life she really felt like she needed a drink, and not herbal tea either.
Rick walked up to her and took both of her hands in his. He smiled easily, all while she struggled to not pass out.
“Hi. You look great.” He looked down at her from a height that must be at least sixfoottwo compared to her fivefooteight.
“Thanks.”
He looked great too, but not because he had gone to any length at all to do so. He was in the same clothes she’d seen him in earlier. His five o’clock shadow—make that six o’clock—had filled in giving him a sexy, scruffy and a bit dangerous look.
She imagined what that stubble would feel like against her cheek when he kissed her…or between her thighs.
That image flooded her cheeks with heat and her lower abdomen with butterflies and desire. She dropped her gaze away from his, afraid he would know exactly what she had envisioned.
“Shall we go inside?”
“Sure.”
“They don’t have a table available for hours but they said we can order some appetizers at the bar if we want. Is that okay?”
Beth nodded. Better actually. Less intimate, less nerve wracking. She would have to ease her way back into this dating thing slowly.
That concept—easing into things slowly—worked until the first glass of white wine, cushioned by nothing but Oysters Rockefeller, hit her stomach and her bloodstream like a nuclear bomb. Before she ordered the wine, she should have remembered she had skipped lunch to give the tour, and then had been pulled right into the cracked tile mystery. Given that fact, the second glass she sucked down had probably been a really bad idea. But the conversation seemed to flow much smoother after each sip she took. And Rick was so cute and sexy. She felt like she could listen to him talk forever about his marketing company and how he was in New York researching the demographics and traffic patterns of visitors in Grand Central Terminal.
