by Jean Joachim
"Not helping."
"Who said I was trying to help?"
She laughed, then covered her mouth, not wishing to disturb those watching the performance in the theater. He took her hand and led her over to the coat check area, finding an alcove there with a pay phone. He pulled her into the alcove against the wall and pressed hard against her body as his mouth found hers. She fell into his arms, softening against him. The kiss grew passionate. She moaned softly and whispered in his ear,
"Touch me,"
He responded immediately. His fingers closed around her breast while his other hand slid down to her bottom and squeezed, then pulled her up against him. She ground her hips into his and felt his erection, making her gasp slightly. His hand massaged her breast, seeking the nipple, which he gently pinched. They were so wrapped up in each other, they didn't hear the applause as the ballet broke for intermission. Even the sound of approaching footsteps did little to stop them. Carrie managed to pull her mouth away as she heard the tapping of a foot on the floor. She peered around Grey's shoulder and saw the man standing still and frowning at them.
"Get a room. This is the ballet, for crissake!" he muttered as he walked away.
Carrie buried her flushed face in Grey's shoulder and moved her hips back from his. He put his hand in her hair, brushing it down and kissed her cheek.
"Sorry, but…" he whispered in her ear.
"…it takes two," she said.
He smiled and stepped back from her, waiting a minute or two before taking her hand and joining the intermission crowd, keeping her in front of him. Carrie went back to her seat and snatched up her coat.
"I can't focus on this…the performance…with you next to me," she whispered in his ear.
Grey saw a few people staring at them and knew the man with the frown spread the word about them to others, so he accompanied Carrie out of the auditorium with an amused grin on his face. Once in the lobby, he took out his cell phone and called the car.
A few more people stared at them as they walked down the hall and Grey felt his face flush. Carrie started to giggle when she heard people whispering and noticed the stir their rapid exit was making. By the time they reached the front door she was dissolved in laughter and so was he. The chauffeur opened the car door. They laughed all the way back to her office.
When the car pulled up to the curb, they were both wiping their eyes.
"At least we weren't undressed," she said.
Her comment started another fit of laughing. When they both quieted down, Carrie gathered her coat, purse and briefcase and turned to Grey.
"It was an amazing evening, Grey. Thank you so much."
"Even if we practically got kicked of the ballet?" He joked.
"Dinner was fabulous and the ballet was…stimulating?" She said, snickering.
He took her in his arms and kissed her.
"Goodnight, Carrie. Don't work too hard," he said, smoothing her hair with his palm. Grey sat in the car and watched her walk into her building, the car pulled away when she was safely inside.
Chapter Six
Carrie didn't worry about hearing from Grey again. Anyone who was all over her like he was would be back for seconds…and more. She focused on her work, though it took her a half hour to come down from the high of the best date she'd had in years.
At two o'clock, she called it quits and called a car service. She was in bed by three and up again at eight, dragging herself back to the office. Dennis was there, pleased with her work and loaded with more for her to do. She planned to stay there Wednesday and Thursday nights until very late. The call came on Wednesday morning at work. Harried, hassled and preoccupied, Carrie answered the phone in a gruff voice.
"Hello!"
"That's not the soft voice purring in my ear last night."
"Grey?" She smiled, picturing his sexy smile and laughing eyes.
"Can't stop thinking about you and it's screwing up my work day, Honey. Can I take you to a Yankees game then dinner this Saturday…seats on the first base side?"
"Saturday?" She asked, pulling out her calendar.
"Please say 'yes' so I can get back to work. I'm losing money!"
"I have to work. But I can sneak out for a few hours," she said, holding the phone very close for privacy.
"The game starts at 2 p.m. I'll send a car to pick you up at 2:30. I'll be waiting outside when you get here."
"Wonderful! The new Yankee Stadium?" Carrie sank down into her desk chair.
"None other."
"I love baseball…but I suppose you remember than from our conversation."
"I'm a good listener."
"Such a rare thing in a man," She said, putting her feet up on her trash can.
"I have an excellent memory, too. I remember some other things about you…things that need pursuing."
Carrie blushed at the tone of his voice.
"See you Saturday, Grey," she said and hung up when he finished chuckling.
Carrie sat back for a few moments, enjoying the idea of being with Grey again. Dennis burst her romantic balloon by putting his bulky self in her doorway and clearing this throat.
"What's this about Saturday? We're working Saturday."
"I'm coming in early, leaving at 2:30 and will return at eight if I need to. I'm going to see a game at the new Yankee stadium."
"Good seats?"
"First base side."
"I suppose, if you're coming back and all, its okay. Wish I could go with you."
Carrie smiled and kept her mouth shut rather than tell Dennis how glad she was he wouldn't be there.
That night as Carrie climbed into bed to read for a few minutes her phone rang.
"I'm not interrupting anything…by any chance, am I?"
"Delia! Of course not. I've been working long days there is no chance to interrupt anything," Carrie chuckled, putting the book face down on her stomach.
"That's not good, Carrie. You need a man in your life. You should be thinking about marriage," Delia said.
Carrie scrunched down in the bed.
"Right now I' thinking about holding on to my job."
"Oh, right, right forgot about that. When am I going to meet this man of yours?"
"He's not mine and I have only seen him a couple of times. He's taking me to a baseball game and dinner on Saturday," Carrie said, her voice soft. "How cozy! Are you going to bring him up for coffee?"
"Aunt Delia, Uncle Jackson would be appalled at your questions."
"Are you?"
"I have to go back to work Saturday night."
"Maybe that's not so bad. With all the delay, by the time you two get together, there'll be real fireworks! Sleep tight, Angel."
Delia hung up the phone and Carrie put her book away. She shut off the light and lay in bed, thinking about when she'd finally get time alone with Grey. She didn't think long as she was asleep within ten minutes.
****
Time seemed to fly by and Saturday came quickly. It was a delightfully sunny, pleasant day in September. Carrie dressed in boot cut, light blue jeans, with a raspberry-pink long sleeved tee shirt with a scooped neck. The outfit showed her trim figure off to perfection. Navy tennis shoes, some casual jewelry and a denim jacket to protect against the cool evening air completed the outfit.
She headed out to the office at eight a.m., unable to stop smiling. When she arrived, the other members of the team greeted her with grumpy hellos. As they hid behind huge cups of Starbucks coffee, Carrie fairly sang out her 'good mornings' and beamed at everyone.
They got down to work quickly and she kept focused until 2:15. Grey was a stickler for being on time and she knew the car would be waiting outside in fifteen minutes on the nose.
In the ladies room she replenished her blush and lipstick and added mascara and some light eyeliner. A dab of her favorite lilac cologne for her signature scent.
"Hope the Yanks win," Dennis said as she went into the elevator.
The ride to Yankee stadium was q
uick with little traffic on a Saturday. Carrie sat back and watched the boats on the Hudson River as the car sped up the West Side Highway toward the Bronx. The gleam of sun off the water reflected on the trees and flowers in Riverside Park. A feeling of happiness washed over her as she sank back into the comfortable seat.
The driver made a quick call as they turned off the highway and when he pulled up to the stadium, Grey was waiting outside for her. He scooped her up into his strong arms for a huge hug and kiss before taking her hand and leading her into the stadium. She looked around, unable to decide if the new stadium looked more like an office building or a modern prison. She gave a slight nod as the notion of a huge bank came into her mind.
Carrie was almost blinded by the bright green of the grass as she followed behind the tall, slim man all the way down almost to the front row half way between home plate and first base.
Just as they sat down, Alex Rodriguez put the ball out of the park. The cheering was deafening and Grey took the opportunity to pull her into his arms again. They jumped and yelled and laughed.
Once in their seats, Grey offered her food.
"The new stadium has a ton of new kinds of food. You can have the traditional hot dogs and beer or soda or something fancier. They have barbecue, Dunkin Donuts, even salads. What's your poison?"
"It's still the ballpark…gotta be hot dogs and soda."
"Turkey Hill ice cream?
"That's the best!"
"I had that as a kid upstate, but how do you know Turkey Hill?"
"I travel," she said blushing.
"Some guy introduced you to it, didn't he?" His eyes narrowed.
"Maybe…Look, Jeter's coming up to bat."
Grey took the hint and dropped his inquisition about her past. He plied her with hot dogs, soda and ice cream. He drank beer. Grey had come from work, too. He sat next to her with a baseball cap pushed back on his head, gray slacks and a blue striped, long sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His tie had been pulled loose and hung limp a few inches below his collar. Several buttons on his shirt were released to reveal a bit of his chest hair. Carrie wanted to reach inside his shirt and flatten her palm against him. She felt her pulse take a quick leap.
He pointed out the special features of the spanking new stadium, leaning in close to her. Her eyes followed the line of his arms and finger pointing, but she couldn't concentrate with him so close to her. His scent enticed her and she could feel the masculine heat radiating from his chest so near hers. When he sat back, she gazed at him. The casual cap, the shirt sleeves revealing his powerful forearms lightly covered in sandy-colored hair. His broad shoulders and chest pulled a little at the shirt. She guessed he was probably not a perfect fit for one size but was actually between two sizes. His handsome face glistened with a little sweat in the sun. Carrie felt her pulse quicken again and heat begin to course through her veins just looking at him and yet she couldn't look away. She wanted him.
"Look, he's going to steal third…it's a hit and run play," Grey said, pointing to the player taking a huge lead off second base.
Just as he said it, the runner on second base took off and the batter hit a single to center field. The man on second scored and the crowd went wild. Grey leaped up with the rest, yelling and raising his hands over his head. He pulled Carrie out of her seat and enveloped her in his arms. She ran her hands up his chest as her eyes made contact with his. He looked down at her and lowered his lips to hers. She wound her arms around him and pulled them closer. Grey deepened the kiss but soon everyone else sat down. Fans started to catcall the kissing couple. Someone whistled, then he was joined by two or three others clapping and whistling, too.
The fans around them laughed while Carrie was mortified. They sank back down in their seats and settled for holding hands until the game was over. About five thirty they made their way to the parking lot and Grey's silver Jaguar XK.
"For dinner, since we're up here already, I thought I'd take you to Arthur Avenue."
"What's Arthur Avenue?" She asked, turning to face him.
"You grew up in New York and don't know that the real Little Italy is on Arthur Avenue in the Bronx? Best Italian food outside of Italy and the bakeries…wow!" He put the car in gear and they wended their way down side streets filled with children playing, radios blasting, people sitting on stoops, playing cards, boom boxes blasting. They drove past block after block of three and four story brownstones, some colorful, some red brick and some the traditional brown.
Grey found a parking space in front of Firenze a small Italian restaurant. He opened the door for Carrie and escorted her inside.
There were a dozen tables squeezed into the tiny restaurant. The walls were dark green and each table sported a Chianti bottle with a candle burning in it. They were early and the place was almost empty. Carrie ordered the ravioli and Grey had the chicken parmigiana with spaghetti.
"How was work today?" Grey asked, cutting off a piece of chicken.
"We're working on three new approaches for this one client. Sometimes I get confused because I'm working on too many different things at the same time. You worked today too, right?"
The ravioli seemed to melt in Carrie's mouth; she had never tasted pasta so good.
"Susan and Max like to run their research by me before they present it to John. John was my boss. When he retired he decided to start this business and he brought me along. Of course I had to kick in equal start-up money, but that wasn't a problem."
"How did you make all your money?" Carrie blurted out, then blushed at the boldness of her question.
Grey looked at her and laughed.
"I'm so sorry. That was rude of me. Please, forget I asked."
"It's okay. I bought townhouses to start with."
"Townhouses?"
"To save money I used to take my dates on lots of interesting walks. We'd walk up to Harlem and back. I noticed gentrification was beginning to move North, so I looked into buying a few townhouses, refurbishing them and selling them at healthy profits." Grey took a sip of his red wine.
"Pretty smart," Carrie said, cutting another piece of ravioli in half with her fork.
"Guess so. I also bought one for myself and kept it."
"You live in a townhouse?" she asked, her eyes wide.
"Uptown. It isn't big, but it has enough space for me…and for…the future," he said, coughing, "I made a ton of money that way and then I invested it in carefully researched companies…companies I was watching for my clients. I made about twenty percent each year."
"Someday, if I become a creative director, will you invest my money for me?"
He chuckled. "How about I teach you how to invest and you can do it yourself?"
"I like that idea. So tell me about your house," she said, smiling as she wiped her lips with the napkin.
"It's orange brick with white trim, only three stories with a basement and a garage. That was important. It's about thirty blocks north of your place, near Manhattan Avenue. I'll drive by when I take you home."
"Wonderful! I'd love to see it. I can't imagine, three stories! It must be heaven."
"It's comfortable, though I only live on the first floor. Haven't figure out what to do with the rest yet."
Grey turned his wrist to look at his new iPod watch.
"Almost the witching hour. Have to get a rain check from you on pastries for dessert."
I have a completely different kind of dessert in mind for you the next time we meet. She eyed his torso hungrily wondering what he looked like underneath his corporate veneer then nodded and smiled at him.
Grey drove her back to her office fifteen minutes before she was due. They sat in the car smooching like a couple of teenagers until she had to go in.
"I had a wonderful time today."
"It helps when the Yankees win," he said, playing with the car keys.
"Oh, did they win? I didn't notice," she teased.
"What?"
"I'm kidding. My wonderful
day had all to do with you, silly," Carrie explained, opening the car door.
"I'll call you tomorrow," he said, when she closed the door.
"Good night."
"Good night, honey," he said, raising his hand.
Grey put the car in gear and roared away from the curb.
Chapter Seven
On Sunday, Carrie slept late, recovering from her six-day work week. At eleven o'clock, the phone rang.
"Good morning," came the smooth, deep voice of Grey Andrews.
"Good morning to you, too," Carrie's sleepy voice returned.
"Dinner Saturday?"
"Lovely." She stretched her arm above her head.
"Good. Rest up. I expect you to be able to stay awake for dessert."
"Maybe we should start with dessert first," she teased.
"Don't have to twist my arm," he snickered.
"Hmmm," she muttered, closing her eyes and picturing him naked.
"See you Saturday," he said and rang off.
****
She worked every night until nine thirty. By Thursday Carrie was tapped out.
"I'm leaving early tomorrow," she told Dennis.
"Early? Who said?"
"I said. I'm exhausted, Dennis. Just one afternoon, geez."
"Okay, okay. You can leave at one tomorrow, but be here on Saturday."
"Saturday, again? No can do. I have a date. But I'll work at home on Sunday for a couple of hours."
"It's that damn new business stuff. If you were only working on Country Lane…but you're not. Your work is still good, Carrie. Okay, deal. Can't afford to have you get sick on me."
Carrie walked out of his office and down the hall, where she bumped into Rosie.
"How you doin'?" Rosie asked her, a look of concern on her face.
"Exhausted."
"You look it. Haven't seen you in weeks. Any chance you can take a few minutes for lunch today?"
