by Nella Tyler
Dr. Keeler was paging through Cole’s service medical records as Gilda stood quietly by, her eyes on Cole’s chest, although he couldn’t tell that by the way he was lying. Dr. Keeler prodded and poked, muttered a few things, and Gilda turned to make notes on the chart. Cole took advantage of her inattention to sit up, closing the gown.
“Stand up, please,” Dr. Keeler said, and Cole rose to attention as his prostate exam came next. “Gilda, get the phone, will you?” Gilda nodded and left the room. Cole tried to discretely end the call on his cell phone. Dr. Keeler grinned without looking directly at him. “Pretty clever, son. I take it you’re a bit bothered by her? Judging by your erection, I don’t think I have to wait for an answer.”
The physical concluded, and Cole emerged and approached the counter, fully dressed. Gilda looked up. “All done?”
“Not quite,” he said assertively. “I need your phone number.”
“Beg your pardon?” she asked, surprised.
“I said,” he leaned over the counter, coming within inches of her face, “I need your phone number,” he enunciated clearly and mockingly slow.
Gilda stared into his green eyes and felt a long-forgotten warmth low in her womanhood. His presence was magnetic, and she was still recovering from her observations of his masculine assets discovered during the exam. She was mesmerized and looked down only long enough to scribble her number on a post-it note and then handed it to him.
“Thank you, Gilda. You’ll hear from me.” He winked and left, having regained his composure after being subjected to such close scrutiny.
Gilda stared after him, somewhat dazed by the encounter. She hadn’t been with anyone since Scott and there was no denying that she hadn’t felt particularly feminine for a long time. As crude as Scott had been, he had introduced her to the joys of intimacy. She turned around and saw Dr. Keeler watching Cole leave.
“Never seen you do that before,” he commented.
“I’ve never seen myself do that before, either,” she agreed.
She heard her personal cell ringing in her purse and scrambled for it. Mrs. Crutcher was the only one who had that number, and it seldom rang.
“Hi,” came a man’s voice.
Gilda paused, trying to place it. “Who is this?”
“This is Cole. Have you forgotten me already?” he teased her.
“But you just left. Is something wrong?”
“Nope. Just wanted to ask you to lunch.”
Glancing over her shoulder, Gilda saw that Dr. Keeler had gone back to his work. She began twisting a thick strand of her reddish-blonde hair. “Lunch, huh?” she teased, her accent heavier in her flirting. “Why should I?”
“You probably shouldn’t. But I’m betting you’ll meet me at the Ground Floor Restaurant down the street at one o’clock to find out why. See you then.” The line went dead, and Gilda froze in reaction. He hung up on me!
She fumed a bit, slamming folders and punching at the computer keys, completely miffed. Eventually, she was left to think about it and calmed down. She realized he had played her, just as she had played him when he was forced to undergo the exposure of his exam. She smiled. He might just be a worthy challenge, she thought to herself.
Chapter 7
Ground Floor Restaurant was, just as its name indicated, in the lowest level of a building that dated back to the late 1800s. It was, in fact, sub-level, and customers had to walk down a flight of stairs to enter. Inside, they found masculine plaid carpeting, brass foot rails supporting the bar that ran the entire circumference of the room, and heavy, Tiffany-style lamps hanging low to spotlight the granite countertop. The atmosphere was subdued and respectful, not typically the sort of place a young cop-to-be would choose to eat. This appealed more to the executive customer.
Having left the clinic at one o’clock, Gilda entered Ground Floor Restaurant about five minutes later and spotted Cole waiting for her on a bench just inside the restaurant.
“Sorry I’m late, but I couldn’t leave until one,” she apologized as he helped her out of her coat and hung it on one of the many hooks just inside the entrance.
“Not a problem. Shall we?” He gestured to the continuous bar where people sat in clusters according to their group number rather than defined dining spaces.
She nodded and moved to one of the more abandoned lengths, not very far from the entrance. The bartender/server was there immediately and gave them menus. The restaurant served a more relaxed, but definitely business, crowd, for whom time was always a concern.
“Why don’t you order for us?” Gilda suggested, not sure what his finances might look like since he was out of a job at the time.
Cole ordered steak sandwiches with the restaurant’s trademark fries. Gilda hungrily bit into the delicious meat; and at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel guilty because Carson was missing out on it.
Their conversation was light and general as they began to eat. Cole asked questions about the police force, and she answered to the extent of her personal knowledge.
“Why did you choose to become a cop?” she asked him, dabbing at the flavorful juice that escaped her sandwich. Cole focused on it and reached with his own napkin to catch a drop at the corner of her mouth. She liked that gesture; it was personal and caring. She’d never had the luxury of having someone really care about her — except in the most sadistic, controlling manner.
“I like rules. Enjoyed my military career and being a cop seems like a good fit.”
“But you’re not from here. Why New York City?” Her curiosity made her brown eyes soft and empathetic.
“Can you think of anywhere that needs cops more?” he asked, grinning.
“Good point.”
“How about you? You didn’t grow up here.”
“Like I told you, I came to visit and decided to stay,” she answered quickly — perhaps too quickly.
Cole saw through the line she readily offered, but decided to bide his time. She was hiding something, but he wasn’t about to alienate her now. He wanted to get to know her better, and maybe someday she would trust him enough to tell him the truth. At least, he hoped so.
“You live alone?”
Gilda was glad they were seated side by side because she knew her eyes must have reflected her alarm and hoped he had missed that. She covered by taking a drink from her glass of iced water. She didn’t know how she felt about anyone knowing about Carson. It was her way of protecting him from the world. Not even the guys at the station knew. She improvised. “I live in a small apartment and look after my elderly landlord, Mrs. Crutcher, who lives upstairs. She gives me a break on the rent, and I do little things around the place.”
Cole heard her words, but caught the hesitation. What is she hiding? Does she have a man in her life? He nodded, not skipping a beat. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”
“Nope. Only me. It was just me and Mama.”
He noted that she didn’t mention her father. Cole’s head was swimming at the mystery that surrounded this sweet-natured southern gardenia. Normally, his instincts would have warned him that she was more trouble than he needed and sent him off on a run. For some reason, though, he didn’t get those alarms about her.
He watched her as she spoke; she had an animated face and smiled often as she answered his questions. He was watching her more than listening — to him it said so much about a person. Gilda had dimples when she laughed, and it made him want to say funny things, just to see them pop in. He felt protective of her, knowing instinctively that something lay in her past that she wasn’t talking about.
The server came to inquire about dessert, but Gilda shook her head. “No, thank you, but I’m wondering if you could put this in a doggie bag for me?” she asked, handing over her plate with the second half of her sandwich, perfectly cut in half. Cole noticed, but said nothing. He thought perhaps she was having trouble making ends meet and would save the second half for dinner later that evening.
“Well,” she said, wipin
g her mouth with her napkin and laying it on the counter, “I really have enjoyed this and appreciate the invitation.” The server returned with her bag, and she nodded her thanks and slid off the stool.
Cole was instantly on his feet and grabbed her jacket, holding it for her. “Will you have dinner with me?”
Her face blanked. “Ah, well, no… Actually, I have plans,” she improvised.
Cole wondered whether he had legitimately wanted to see her that evening or whether he was baiting her to see how she’d respond. It was clear she wasn’t free to have dinner.
“How about tomorrow night, then?” he tried again.
“Well, you know… I don’t like to be out late on weekdays, with work and all.” She had started toward the door and the atmosphere was beginning to feel awkward.
“Saturday?” he shot back.
“Why don’t you call me? Or better yet, it will actually be my job to call you about the outcome of your exam. We could talk about it then?” She was grappling for a delay; he could feel it.
“Sure, no problem,” he gave in, for now. He held the door, and she waved as she turned back toward the station.
Cole watched her go. There’s something very guarded about that woman…but I’ll get to the bottom of it.
Chapter 8
Over the next week, Cole passed the remaining tests and became an officer in training. Gilda was studying hard to get her nursing degree and spend as much time as she could with Carson. She saw Cole in the lobby from her office window and waved. He nodded in return. They had to put everything on hold until he was officially part of “the team” — there was very little time left over.
Gilda looked at Carson playing with his toys on the floor and wondered how she would handle dating without anyone finding out about him. It wasn’t that she was ashamed to be a divorced mother — certainly not. She just didn’t want to expose him to any man unless she knew he would always be a permanent fixture in their lives. She knew he didn’t remember anything about Scott, and they never talked about it. Perhaps it had never occurred to Carson that he had a father; surely he never brought it up. It wasn’t unusual yet, but would most likely become a factor once he started school.
She had to admit to herself that it probably had more to do with her; she didn’t want to tell anyone about Scott and how she had let herself be treated. It was a humiliating tale and if she didn’t have to repeat it, there was never any danger that Carson would find out how weak his mother was. He would never have any reason to be ashamed of her. She knew Carson would likely be her only family, and she couldn’t bear to have him disappointed in her.
She had been studying psychology through her nursing training and gotten very interested in it. She realized that she’d been programmed by Scott to feel guilty and inadequate, which was probably why she worried what Carson would think of her.
She didn’t hear from Cole for about two weeks, and when she did, it came as a surprise. She answered the phone in the medical unit when his voice was at the other end.
“Hi!” he began.
“Well, hi, yourself!
“Sorry I haven’t been in touch. I guess you know that I got hired, and well, the schedule is pretty packed.”
“Yes, I did hear. Congratulations!”
“Thanks. Look, I’m going to be in the academy for six months before I earn a badge. I’m not sure how much time I’ll have for socializing, but I’d like to see you again. Any chance we could work that out?”
Gilda panicked. Was he asking to come to her place? “What did you have in mind?”
“Okay, so I know this is a little early, but I’m thinking you know all there is to know about me.” She could hear the underlying sarcasm in his voice and knew he was referring to his physical. “I have a little place in town and thought maybe you’d meet me there? Like maybe for dinner Friday evening?” His voice was hopeful and Gilda was trying to come up with the same enthusiasm, but all she could think about was how she was going to arrange that with Carson.
“Uh, okay, can you text me your address and a time and I’ll come? If I can’t, I’ll let you know in advance.”
“Perfect. I’ll do that now. Looking forward to it, Gilda,” he said before he ended the call.
Gilda sat with the phone in her hand, her head spinning. It had all happened so quickly. She knew he had training, so it would be some time before he settled enough to even think of having a relationship. To hear that he was already partially settled came as a surprise. What did I expect? she asked herself. He’s a grown man; he has to live somewhere.
She chided herself for her naiveté and just tried to get through the rest of the day without thinking constantly of Cole. She had problem-solving ahead.
* * *
As usual, Gilda got slammed by Carson’s loving body when she walked in the door. Mrs. Crutcher was baking cookies and held one fresh from the oven for Gilda to sample.
“Mmmmm…” Gilda responded, licking her fingers. “No one makes cookies like you, Mrs. Crutcher.”
“Ach!” The older lady smiled and accepted the praise, clucking her tongue with embarrassment.
Gilda bent and handed Carson the key to their apartment. “I’m going to let you be a big boy and go downstairs first, Carson. I’m going to leave the door open, and I’m only ten steps away. But you need to learn to be the man of the house. Can you do that?”
Carson’s eyes grew huge. He nodded and held the key as if it were made of glass. He opened Mrs. Crutcher’s door and started down the stairs, holding the key out before himself.
Gilda knew he would be fine; the apartment house was locked from the street and only Gilda and Carson were tenants at the moment. “Mrs. Crutcher, I need to ask something of you.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Well, it’s a little embarrassing, but you see, there’s a new officer at work…” Gilda began.
“Ahhhhh, say no more. You want me to watch over the little one so you can have a date, don’t you?”
“Oh, bless you — you do understand! Would you?”
“Of course, any time. Just to tell me when you aren’t coming home, okay? I will let Carson sleep in my extra room if you want to stay overnight, too!” she winked.
Gilda could have hugged her on the spot. She really did understand!
“Would Friday be too soon?”
“Ahhhh, you have a date?”
Gilda nodded and grinned, flushing.
“Bring Carson’s jammies with you.” She shooed Gilda out the door with a plate of fresh cookies. Gilda was glowing as she followed Carson into the apartment.
It just might be that I have a social life again, she marveled to herself.
Chapter 9
Gilda felt the excitement of romance on Friday morning. She told Carson she would be out with a friend that evening, so he would be staying late with Mrs. Crutcher. Carson seemed to take it all in stride. Gilda framed it as a great adventure because she’d never been separated from him at bedtime and was concerned how he would respond to a break in his routine.
She packed a small bag with makeup and a change of clothes. She planned to change clothes and pretty herself up in one of the exam rooms at work. She knew she’d have to let Dr. Keeler in on her plans; it would appear too suspicious otherwise.
“Doctor?”
He turned from the lab bench where he was working on tubes of blood and looked at her over his glasses.
“I have a date this evening and wanted to clear it with you to use an exam room to change clothes later?”
He turned back to his work and muttered, “Anyone I know?”
“Well, yes, you did an exam on him at one point.”
“Yeah?”
She knew he was waiting for a name. “Cole Stephens.” She waited for his reaction.
He turned again and grinned. “Figured as much. You had the boy all revved up.”
“I…”
“Save it. Seen it before. Have fun. Lock the door and turn out t
he lights when you leave, huh?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dr. Keeler tipped her a salute on his way out of the unit later that day. Gilda scampered back to an exam room and changed her clothes. She’d brought a cranberry-colored silk shirt over black leather leggings she had splurged on at a close-out sale. The cranberry color emphasized her brown eyes and she felt particularly glamorous in the black leather. She took some extra time with her make-up, outlining her eyes and applying lipstick that matched the shirt. She twisted her long hair into French braid that ran down the back of her head and locked it in with a silver clip she’d had since high school. Satisfied with her appearance, she flipped off the lights, locked the unit door, and headed out of the building.
She flagged a cab and gave the driver the address Cole had given her. She felt like a tourist as they drove, her face plastered against the window and looking upward. She realized she’d never taken time to really check out the town; she’d focused on getting a job and learning only the basics of getting around.
When the taxi pulled up in front of a luxury apartment building, she thought she’d given him the wrong address. “Are you sure this is the right place?” she asked, checking the text Cole had sent her again.
“It’s what you told me, lady,” shrugged the Iranian driver, flipping the mirror around to see her. “Not the right place?”
“Well, let’s see. I guess this is right. It’s just not what I expected.”
“You want me to keep meter running?” he asked, only too anxious to earn money while he was sitting in place.
“No, no, that’s fine. I’ll get out here.” She handed him the fare and opened her door to get out. She was barely out and had reached to shut the door when the taxi sped off, its door slamming from the acceleration. Gilda jumped back in surprise. She nearly fell backward over the curb and someone grabbed her from behind to steady her.
She looked behind in surprise and saw a doorman in uniform. “Are you okay, Miss?” he asked in a conciliatory tone, his white glove at her elbow.