One Wish In Manhattan (A Christmas Story)

by Mandy Baggot

  He shook his head. ‘No, that was my brother.’ A sigh left him. ‘I was on the football team.’

  ‘A jock.’ Hayley couldn’t help the surprise touching her reply. ‘And I suppose we’re talking a funny-shaped ball rather than the kind David Beckham uses.’

  He nodded, pushed a piece of breadstick into his mouth. That gave her every reason to focus on those gorgeous lips that looked just as good no matter what expression they were wearing.

  ‘So,’ she recovered. ‘When did you stop with the ball games and start with the hard drives?’

  She watched a wistful expression appear in his hazel eyes. It seemed like his thoughts were flying far away from the Romario’s restaurant. She waited, hoping he was going to say something.

  ‘When I ripped apart my shoulder and couldn’t make it as a professional.’

  That wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting.

  ‘Here we are, Bollinger, a 2004 vintage. Does that meet with sir’s approval?’ Tony asked, appearing at the table, red-faced, a bottle opener between his teeth.

  ‘Just get it open, Tony,’ Oliver answered.

  40

  Restaurant Romario, Greenwich Village

  ‘It was always Ben’s dream to work for the family business. I was the one who always went against the grain,’ Oliver said as they shared a plate of olives, sardines drizzled with lemon, fresh bread and a garlic butter.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting your own path,’ Hayley said, trying to delicately skewer an olive. ‘I wasn’t going to be a housewife like my mother or a bricklayer like my dad and I wasn’t ever as clever as Dean.’ She scoffed. ‘I definitely proved that by getting pregnant young and ruining all my plans.’

  ‘I think you’re too hard on yourself.’

  ‘Maybe you are too,’ she responded. The mood had shifted. This was easier, safer territory. ‘So, were you really good at football? Like Jonny Wilkinson was to rugby?’

  ‘Something like that. I take it he’s good,’ Oliver said with a smile.

  ‘I can just see you in the outfit.’

  ‘Uniform,’ he corrected.

  ‘Tight white pants, bigger shoulder pads than Joan Collins …’

  ‘I looked hot in that uniform.’

  ‘I’m not saying otherwise.’

  The thought of him in tight pants was causing an involuntary reaction. She was hotting up from the tips of her toes and the flush was moving upwards at a rapid, unrelenting rate. He was looking right at her, sultry, like if they weren’t in a populated restaurant he might rip all her clothes off.

  ‘Is that your boardroom face? Because it’s totally working on me.’ She shifted in her seat. ‘Right now I’d do anything for you,’ she whispered. What had come over her? Was this the wine talking or her innermost thoughts jumping out of her lips? Her heart was racing now.

  She watched his composure drop away and he wet his lips. Before she knew it she was slipping off her shoe and stretching her leg out under the table until she connected with him. Keeping her eyes on his, she slowly began to inch her toes up his calves, past his knee and up onto his thigh.

  ‘You are a bad, bad, girl,’ he whispered, his eyes not leaving hers.

  She jolted in her seat as she felt his foot on her, moving latently upwards.

  ‘We shouldn’t be doing this in a family establishment,’ she said, swallowing as she felt his foot slip up onto her chair and begin parting her thighs.

  ‘Absolutely not,’ he agreed.

  * * *

  Her delicate foot was kneading his groin and he was powerless. He was raging with lust, completely out of control. He should stop but it was too good, erotic, sensual, something more than that all at once. He pressed his foot forward, inch by inch, knowing he was so close to the most intimate part of her and wanting to feel it.

  ‘Have you still got the uniform?’ Hayley asked, her voice raspy.

  ‘What do you think?’ he whispered.

  He watched her squirm as his toes made contact with her. He pressed a little harder.

  ‘Is it getting hot in here?’ She fanned a hand at her face as she looked back at him.

  ‘You tell me.’ He felt her furl and unfurl her toes on him and he knocked his knife off the table with his elbow.

  ‘Ditto,’ she said, eyes wide, lips parted.

  ‘A large Capricciosa and a Tre Gusti,’ Tony announced, slamming their plates down with no finesse at all.

  Oliver shot his leg down from Hayley’s chair. His face was flushed and he made a grab for his napkin. ‘Thank you, that’s great.’

  ‘Fast service around here,’ Hayley remarked.

  ‘Almost a little too quick,’ he replied.

  * * *

  Oliver watched her, tearing apart her pizza and eating it like she was a famine victim. There was nothing superficial about this woman. She wasn’t sat there putting on a show for him, she was who she was and that was a breath of fresh air. Everything about her invigorated him. Everything she had going on in her life and she was still able to be so … natural, so free. If it wasn’t so stimulating he would probably feel jealous.

  ‘This pizza is so good,’ Hayley said, wiping a sheen of grease from her lips with a finger before grabbing a serviette.

  ‘It’s the best pizza in the whole of New York in my opinion.’

  ‘So,’ she took a sip of her champagne. ‘Why did you stop coming here?’

  She didn’t pull any punches. And he didn’t have an answer ready. Why had the Drummonds stopped coming here? Ben had died and the whole family had fallen apart, not feeling whole when one of them was missing. Maybe that was the problem. They hadn’t clung to each other, they had all done everything they could to get away. Richard with the business, him too – the only person who’d tried was Cynthia. And she was still valiantly trying now.

  He shrugged, sitting back in his chair. ‘Ben died. It didn’t feel right I guess.’

  ‘But you and Tony are friends, you still came here on your own.’

  He shook his head. ‘Not for a long time. And Momma Romario never lets me forget it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of that one. She has the grip of a strongman.’ She picked up another piece of pizza and gazed out onto the street. Two children were building a snowman on the sidewalk, their parents helping gather up piles of snow. It reminded her she’d promised to make Angel a snow president.

  ‘Angel loves Christmas,’ she remarked.

  ‘She’s a kid. All kids love Christmas.’

  ‘I always like the food more than the presents,’ Hayley said, poking in the pizza slice.

  He laughed. ‘You surprise me.’

  ‘So do you do the whole going to church thing at Christmas?’

  ‘When I was a kid. Not now.’

  ‘Me neither. I’m not sure I know what religion’s really about. I’d just like a world where everybody respects everybody, for who they are as people, not anything else.’

  ‘Thought about running for office? You’d definitely get my vote.’

  ‘People make life too complicated,’ she mused.

  ‘There’s just never enough time,’ Oliver stated.

  ‘It’s us not making time that’s the issue,’ Hayley corrected.

  ‘Sometimes it isn’t that simple.’

  ‘And that’s my point. It is that simple … if you want it to be.’ She looked up at him. ‘Like, if you knew your father and Ben were going to die what would you have done? Would you still have done whatever you did or would you have spent more time with them?’

  ‘It isn’t an ideal world.’

  ‘And you haven’t answered the question.’

  ‘Of course I’d want to spend more time with them.’

  ‘And you know you should have.’

  ‘That’s not really fair, Hayley.’

  ‘I wasn’t talking about you.’ She sighed. ‘I was talking about me.’ She kicked the table leg. ‘My father died just after I had Angel and, unlike my moth
er, he didn’t think I was a waste of space, or a let-down because I’d made a mistake. I took him for granted, Oliver. I assumed he would always be there. I didn’t cherish things, I didn’t spend enough time living in those moments and I wish I could go back and change that.’

  ‘He wouldn’t want you to be feeling guilt about it. No one knows how long they have here.’

  * * *

  Oliver swallowed as the conversation hit close to home. He certainly didn’t know how long he had here. He was supposed to be all about the moment. He’d always tried to pack everything he could in to however long he had left. But in an entirely different way to what Hayley was suggesting. In a detached, solitary way that meant nothing to anyone. Hayley would hold her loved ones close, not push them as far away as possible like he was. He took a sip from his glass.

  ‘My mother told me at my father’s funeral that me getting pregnant and having Angel had aged him. She practically accused me of putting the nail in his coffin.’

  ‘She’s wrong, Hayley and you know that.’

  ‘Is she?’

  He reached his hand across the table, slipping his fingers in between hers. ‘Yes, she is.’ He used his other hand to raise her chin with his finger, forcing her to look at him. ‘And I’m betting anything if your father can hear you now he’s hammering his fists on whatever cloud he’s on, telling you you’re letting him down thinking this kind of crap now.’

  Hayley sniffed and he saw the tears in her eyes. He just wanted to pull her towards him, envelop her body with his.

  ‘What d’you think your father would be saying?’ she asked him, gently

  He sucked in a breath. That was a hard question to answer. How would Richard feel about the situation with Andrew Regis and his mother? The course he was steering the company on with the Globe? How he’d lived his life since his death? Hayley? Richard would definitely have liked Hayley. He smiled then.

  ‘He’d be saying “Oliver, you have a beautiful woman right here with you, why are you wasting your time thinking about me”.’

  He felt a laugh come from her and she unlinked their hands. ‘I’m sorry, I made this kind of deep, didn’t I? I blame the carol singers out there.’ She nudged her head towards the scene outside.

  ‘I blame the extortionately expensive champagne.’

  ‘But I’m worth it.’

  ‘The jury’s still out on that one, Lois.’

  She swiped a hand out, catching him on the shoulder.

  ‘Ouch, that hurt.’

  ‘Sorry, was that the injured shoulder?’

  ‘No, that was my baseball arm.’

  ‘I bet you’re a pro at that too.’

  ‘Of course. And NHL and NASCAR.’

  ‘I do know what those are.’

  He laughed. ‘No you don’t.’

  ‘I could try and guess. I’m good at abbreviations.’

  ‘Go ahead, I might LMFAO.’

  ‘You are so annoying!’

  She was looking across at him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright, that infectious smile on her face. She was so beautiful, sat there sparring with him. He blew out the candle and leaned across the table, taking her face in his hands. Slowly, he brought her lips to his, needing to feel her mouth. She softened beneath his fingers, warm and open to his every move. Deepening the kiss, he lost himself, letting everything he was starting to feel for her flood over him. He slipped his hand into her hair, drawing her nearer still, driven on by the heat of her mouth and the intensity of her responses.

  And then he broke the connection, needing to breathe. He carried on looking at her, trying to read her eyes. He swallowed as she matched his gaze and finally he was able to speak: ‘I want to take you home tonight.’

  ‘I thought that’s what the town car was for,’ she replied.

  ‘My home,’ he said, his eyes not leaving hers. His heart was leaping like a child on a pogo stick, bouncing so hard it was starting to hurt.

  She smiled at him, grazing her fingers down the fine stubble along his jaw. ‘A lady cannot accept an invitation to the penthouse on the very first date.’

  ‘Screw that,’ Oliver said, taking hold of her hand.

  ‘Why, Mr Drummond, what language in front of a lady!’ She smiled before continuing. ‘Last time I spent the night with someone in New York things got really complicated.’

  He watched her drop her eyes, her mind somewhere else. He tilted her chin with his finger again. ‘We’ll keep it safe in the red room, I promise.’

  41

  Outside Oliver Drummond’s Penthouse, Downtown Manhattan

  ‘This is where you live?’ Hayley looked up at the glass and chrome building in front of them. It was imposing, somehow stood out amongst the other premises of equal stature around it. The snow was falling heavily now and her teeth started to chatter. She wrapped her arms around herself, holding onto the sequinned bag like a lifebuoy.

  ‘This is where I live. Come on, let’s get inside before you freeze,’ he said, heading towards the doorman. ‘Hey, Bosco.’

  ‘Good evening, Mr Drummond,’ the doorman responded.

  ‘Hello, Bosco, I’m Hayley.’ She waved a hand at him.

  ‘Good evening, Miss.’

  ‘I bet Bosco has seen some action, whisking in your Wish Women,’ Hayley said as they entered the lobby. ‘This looks just like your offices. But where’s the Christmas tree? This is so bare.’

  Everything was chrome and grey, modern, functional but a little bit dull. There was nothing to suggest the holidays were fast approaching.

  Oliver pressed the button for the elevator. ‘It’s a multicultural building. Some of the other residents don’t celebrate Christmas so we don’t have a tree.’ He reached for her hand. ‘FYI – that’s another abbreviation right there – I don’t bring my Wish Women here. And don’t call them that. They aren’t a thing.’

  ‘Double W I think the Twitter hashtag is. Rumour has it that particular edition of the New York Times sold big.’

  ‘You’re making it up,’ he said as the elevator doors opened.

  ‘Maybe, but it’s never going to get old,’ Hayley said, stepping into the lift with him.

  ‘I think you’re forgetting the rather amazing fashion show I took you to tonight.’

  ‘Which could only have been bettered by having Adam Levine come and sing in the interval.’ She sighed. ‘But I did meet Emo Taragucci, in the flesh, actually there for me to squeeze,’ Hayley said, hugging herself.

  Oliver smiled. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed the evening.’

  ‘It isn’t over yet, is it?’ she asked. She watched the numbers of the floors on the display going up slowly and she looked to Oliver, a smile playing on her lips. ‘Ever done it in a lift before?’

  ‘What?’

  She shifted closer towards him. ‘I said, have you ever done it in a lift before?’

  She watched him swallow and finally catch on to what she was suggesting.

  ‘I have a five-million dollar penthouse on the twenty-fifth floor and you want to do it in the elevator.’

  She licked her lips. ‘I don’t know if I can wait twenty more floors.’ She unbuttoned her coat and shrugged it off her shoulders, then, slowly, she lifted the hem of her red dress, dragging it up her body revealing stockings and her best black silk and lace panties and matching bra.

  ‘Jeez, Hayley, what are you doing to me?’

  ‘Looking a little overdressed over there, Clark.’

  * * *

  In one move he lost his coat and in the second and third he unfastened his buttons and ripped his shirt away from his body.

  ‘I knew you were trouble, the very second I set eyes on you by that fire exit,’ he breathed. He claimed her mouth with his, pushing her body up against the mirrored wall. She tasted of chocolate and coffee and that something he could never quite put his finger on. He was pretty sure it involved vanilla but right now all he could taste was lust – whether it was his or hers he couldn’t tell.

  She wrench
ed her lips from his. ‘You knew I was trouble? I think that’s a bit rich.’

  ‘Stop talking!’ he ordered, his mouth at her neckline, his tongue tracing the length of her shoulder.

  ‘Get these things off,’ Hayley said, her hands at the belt of his trousers.

  He stood up straight, his hands on top of hers. He held her fingers as she weaved the leather through the buckle, his eyes on her, wanting to watch her expression and feed off of it. They lowered his zipper together, he slipped a condom from his pocket and then she took over, yanking at the material so he had no choice but to kick his trousers off and away.

  He appraised her, her chest rising and falling, her nipples tight against the silk of her bra. The condom packet between his lips, he reached forward with both hands, looping her back and unfastening the clasp until the fabric slackened and he pulled her bra forward, letting the straps slip down her arms and off.

  Voluptuous breasts greeted him and the kick of arousal stung. He wanted to touch her, taste her, own every inch of her. He held off, just watching. She slipped her fingers inside her panties and he watched her, teasing, toying, easing her hand backward and forward.

  ‘God, you are so hot.’ He removed his jockey shorts, made sure he was safe and took a half step nearer to her.

  She slipped her panties off and pressed her back against the mirrors that lined the lift, pulling him with her. She kissed his mouth, the edge of her teeth nipping his bottom lip. This was driving him crazy. He had to get inside her. He had to take her now.

  He slammed his hand on the elevator buttons, hoping it would buy them some time and then he lifted her up in his arms, his hands clasping her buttocks as his mouth dived into hers.

  A gasp left her as he lowered her down so he could slip inside. The heat that met him intensified every ounce of passion he was already full of.