Until We Say Goodbye

by Jane Drager

  “Uh-huh.” In daylight, Eric’s bruised jaw took on a multitude of colors. A touch of red, green, and purple. A regular rainbow. Car hood, my ass. With a nod, he motioned toward Eric’s face. “Nasty bruise. Looks like a right hook.”

  With a greasy palm, Eric rubbed his jaw. “A beauty, eh?” He nodded toward his car. “The hood support slipped. Knocked my face smack onto the radiator.” After spitting onto the sidewalk, Eric tucked the dirty rag into his back pocket. “I hate to see Lauren and Jan split like this. I’d like to find her.”

  I’m sure you would. His throat tightened, but he forced himself to remain nonchalant. “Lauren can be anywhere in the city.”

  “What about this art class she’s taking? You remember the guy’s name or where he’s at?”

  If alarm bells weren’t clanging inside his head, he’d be a little more civil with the man. But he didn’t trust Eric. He’d confronted far too many men with ulterior motives, and Jan’s fiancé fit the bill. Deems scowled. “I’ve only met Lauren twice, Eric. I don’t know much about her.” Which was true—except for a gut feeling that Lauren had been wronged.

  “Well, if you can help me out, I’d appreciate a call.” He nodded toward Deems’ suit jacket. “I’ll give you my number.”

  Obviously, Eric saw him slip his phone into his pocket as he walked down the steps. So, for the second time within an hour, Deems entered another number into his contact list. He had no intention of telling Eric anything, but to keep the peace, he obliged. After all, the man could soon be his brother-in-law. He inwardly shuddered at the thought.

  Finished relaying his number, Eric let his gaze wander upward toward Jan’s third-floor apartment. “Keep this hush-hush between us, man.”

  Devious fellow. Another fine, upstanding citizen. Did he really expect Deems to keep secrets from his sister? Deems replaced his phone to his pocket and studied Eric. “You intend to approach Lauren without telling Jan?”

  A sly grin curled the corner of Eric’s lips. “Let’s say I want to keep Jan happy. She won’t admit it, but she misses Lauren.”

  Deems hadn’t gotten that impression. Jan adamantly defended Eric and expressed no desire to reconcile with Lauren. On the other hand, Eric showed more interest in Lauren’s return, and Deems had a pretty good idea why.

  Eric pointed to the silver limo across the street. “That yours?”

  Were those dollar signs flashing in Eric’s brown eyes? Jan, you are a fool.

  Chest tight, Deems stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets and snorted. “Company car, Eric. No biggie.”

  “Are you kidding, man?” He twisted his mouth to the side. “You’re probably near the top of the ladder for such a privilege.”

  All right, Jan hadn’t told him everything. That fact eased his gut a little, and he dropped his arms to his sides. “I’m a high-end salesman, Eric. I work for a living—which reminds me.” Frowning, he faced him. “Jan tells me you’re unemployed. How can you propose marriage when you have no means of support?”

  “Aw, man.” Eric kicked at a patch of weeds growing between the sidewalk and curb cracks, his gaze darting to a passing car. “After Lauren left, the poor girl was heartbroken. Proposing helped cheer her up.” Moving away, he leaned against somebody’s dust-covered car while slipping his hands into his jeans front pockets. “I have some prospects developing, but I need to find Lauren first. I gotta set things straight.” He shot Deems a quick glance. “You are gonna look for her, right?”

  The vision of Eric even remotely close to Lauren turned his stomach. His back stiffened. “Jan made her feelings about Lauren perfectly clear, Eric. If you’re attempting to restore their friendship, then you should call Lauren first.”

  Eric scratched his head. “I tried. Left several messages, text and voicemail.” Simultaneously, he crossed his arms and legs. “She probably doesn’t recognize my number.”

  More likely, Lauren wanted nothing to do with Eric Drummer. Smart woman. She recognized a loser better than Jan. Feeling the urge to escape, he glanced at his watch. “Gotta go, Eric.” Without waiting for a response, Deems crossed the street to his limo.

  Like many neighborhoods in New York, parking was at a premium, and most cars stayed permanently in their spot at curbside, gathering dust. Others had the expense of a multi-level garage with its guaranteed parking slot. Public transportation and taxis were the norm, but gridlock happened every single day. For that reason, his company provided a limo and driver.

  Seeing Deems approach, Lou Zane jumped from the driver’s seat to open the rear door. In the eyes of women, Lou could only be described as big, black, and beautiful. Because of his size, he often doubled as a bodyguard. With women, the three B’s. With men, an imposing figure implying caution.

  “You look troubled, Mr. Lambert.”

  At the sound of Lou’s deep voice, Deems jerked his gaze from the asphalt street to his chauffeur. “I am.” He turned to look at Eric who kept his gaze in his direction, still leaning against the car. “That guy is my sister’s fiancé.” Merely saying the words revolted him.

  Lou’s gaze snapped to Eric. A brow lifted. “Oh.” He shrugged broad shoulders under a tailored black suit. “He might be a nice guy.”

  “Yeah, I’m forcing myself to keep an open mind.” Damn near impossible. The situation was awkward with Jan being of legal age and capable of her own decisions. He just wished she made better ones.

  Leaning forward, Lou’s gaze twinkled. “Someone landed a good right hook on his jaw.”

  Suppressing a smile, Deems patted Lou’s broad shoulder. “I have a feeling I know who that someone is.”

  His cell phone rang. He slipped the device from his pocket, recognized the caller ID, and experienced a brief pitter-patter in the center of his chest to see Lauren’s name on the screen. So odd how that beautiful woman affected him, but maybe for a change, he’d receive some straight answers. He stepped into the limo for privacy. “Hi.”

  “Hi, yourself. I’m surprised to hear from you. Does your invitation still stand?”

  “Absolutely.” Her voice had a smooth tone, mature and downright sexy with a slight hint of a Pennsylvania accent. She probably mesmerized her high school students, because she sure as hell caught his attention. All his anger at Jan and Eric flew out the window. “Where are you? I’ll swing by to pick you up.”

  “I have a half hour of class left, and I’m not dressed for anything fancy.”

  “That’s fine. I know a great deli that serves the best sandwiches. The shop’s at Seventy-First and Park. Are you close?” Silence. Was she having second thoughts? “Lauren?”

  “How about I meet you?”

  Caution laced her words. Of him or men in general? Hell, whatever happened between her and Eric made him even more curious.

  “I’ll meet you, Deems. One hour, okay?”

  “All right, I’ll see you then.” His mind racing, he disconnected and stared at his phone. She purposely hid her location. Was she afraid he might tell Jan? Or worse, tell Eric?

  Lou opened the partition window. “Where to, Mr. Lambert?”

  Deems checked his watch. An hour to kill. Any other time, he’d return to the office, do a few things, and then head out. But his concentration sucked…especially for business. “Take a slow drive to Seventieth and Park, Lou. You can drop me off then head home. I’ll take a cab when I’m done.”

  And the short walk would ease some of the doubts about Lauren’s hesitation.

  ****

  I shouldn’t do this.

  Mumbling like some dimwit who hadn’t enough sense to keep the words to herself, Lauren repeated the mantra with every step along the sidewalk. She almost called Deems to cancel, but her heart, mind, and stomach complained. Yes, she wanted to see him, and her heart flipped to hear his voice, but the man proved way too tempting for any woman. She lacked the time and inclination to start anything, whether an affair or a simple fling, and especially, with a man from New York. So, why accept? Is the prospect of a fr
ee meal overriding common sense?

  Money was so tight the bills squealed whenever she slipped one from her wallet. More than once, Lauren regretted signing up for Antonio’s class. Then, she learned something new and thanked the Lord for coming. If her home life had remained status quo, she’d have the money to be comfortable and wouldn’t need an invitation to dinner. As with her luck, her world turned upside down prior to her class’s start date, and she could only make the best of a lousy situation. Deems’ offer for a free meal notched up her oh-woe-is-me mood to a tolerable level.

  She stopped at a crosswalk and waited for the green light. Her stay with Jan had made for a welcomed stability. At present, Lauren faced the limbo of her early arrival—not knowing who to trust. Antonio and the other five students helped break the loneliness, but they stayed within their own circles. Naturally, pride prevented her from discussing her lack of funds.

  Once the light changed, Lauren crossed with the crowd and headed along Seventy-Fifth Street before turning onto Park Avenue and toward Seventy-First.

  I hate New York. People and cars everywhere. No privacy except behind a closed and locked door. The constant noise of blaring car horns, crowds at every corner, and the piercing wail of emergency vehicles surrounded the people of Manhattan, causing throbs to develop within her sinuses. She missed her hometown of Arendtsville with its acres of apple orchards, fresh air, and above all, the silence. Neighbors stopped to chat, and news circulated faster than a radio broadcast. Here in New York, with its millions of people, she had often experienced a profound loneliness, a stranger among so many—even though with her outgoing nature, she could strike up a conversation with anyone. New Yorkers were too damn aloof and preferred to avoid eye contact for fear of having to say hello. Maybe her loneliness was why she accepted Deems’ invitation. She thoroughly enjoyed his company during their impromptu dinner together. Nothing would please her more than to have a friend to call while in this forsaken city.

  She waited at the Seventy-Third Street cross light when a tug on her backpack forced her to turn. Recognizing the Hispanic male with the broad grin on his face, she scowled. “Not you again. Why don’t you buy a pack from a store?”

  He stepped alongside. “Because I like yours more. The offer stands at fifty bucks for the pack and its contents.”

  Was this typical big-city behavior, or could this guy be a nut on the loose? Crossing hurriedly with the green light, she glanced over her shoulder. “Look, buddy, I don’t have time to find replacements for my supplies. The answer is still no.”

  Whatever was his obsession with her pack proved beyond her comprehension. He could easily buy a good bag for less at any discount store. The man had approached her twice already with his offer, and evidently, “no” wasn’t an option. He wore the same clothes as yesterday—blue jeans and gray T-shirt covered by a black leather jacket. He stood at her height and had short, black curly hair with a black mustache. No scumbag-look thankfully, but he gave her the creeps just the same. She hopped onto the opposite curb and quickened her pace.

  He followed, staying one step ahead. “Why’d you leave your Sixty-Eighth Street apartment? Don’t you know a decent pad is hard to come by in this city?”

  Her throat tightened, and not breaking her stride, she shot him a glare. “How’d you know where I lived?”

  He grinned in answer.

  Damn him. “Leave me alone.” She scooted around a slow walker.

  “A hundred bucks then.” He collided into a light pole, recovered quickly, and then hurried to catch up.

  Too bad the damn metal didn’t break his neck. “Same story. Scram before I call the cops.”

  He stopped while she continued. “We’ll meet again, doll.”

  I’m sure we will. She glanced over her shoulder, but he had disappeared. The man was a bona fide mental case. All right, calm down. She’d rather not have Deems see her aggravated over some asshole. Nothing ruined a dinner more than to bitch and moan over something as ridiculous as a guy wanting her backpack.

  She neared Seventy-First and Park and sucked in a breath at the sight of Deems waiting. Dressed in a light gray business suit with a matching tie, he stood on the corner under Irving’s Deli sign, his dark hair gently blowing with the slight spring breeze. They’d met three times already, and on each occasion, he’d worn a suit. Different colors but, nonetheless, expensive. Her wardrobe consisted of blue jeans, T-shirts, and a lightweight jacket, hardly a match for his well-tailored look.

  He turned, and her heart thumped wildly. His pale brown eyes locked onto her while his lips stretched into a smile. Dear Lord, he was perhaps the most attractive man she’d ever met, and her emotions slammed together. Happy to see him, but afraid for the same reason. Caution collided with guilt. Without question, I’m making a big mistake.

  The closer she came, the broader his smile grew. Her knees turned into butter, and she swore up and down she’d melt into a puddle of cream, but she somehow stopped in front of him without tripping over her own feet.

  Without a second of hesitation, he placed both hands on her cheeks, lifted her face upward, and pressed his lips onto hers.

  Chapter Six

  Lauren’s heart just stopped. He’d caught her so off-guard, she couldn’t respond. But she loved every second. She’d forgotten the Hispanic, Jan, Eric—hell, even her dislike for New York. His lips tasted so good, and she reveled in their softness, even though she stood with both hands clutching the pack’s shoulder straps like they were her only means of support. She wanted so much to wrap her arms around him but dared not. Otherwise, she’d lose herself in his musk scent and never forgive her weakness.

  After he suckled without a care that they stood in the middle of the sidewalk, he brushed his lips across hers and lifted his head. His gaze lingered on her lips while both thumbs stroked her cheeks. She almost melted right into his palms.

  A gentle smile curled the corners of his mouth. “Sorry. I don’t often act impulsively, but in your case, I couldn’t resist.” His gaze twinkled. “If you had dropped the backpack, you’d be in my arms.”

  Damn, I should have sold the bag to the Hispanic pest.

  With a feather touch, he swept his palms along her jawline, and a shiver shot straight down her spine. She silently cursed the betrayal of her body. Right or wrong, she wanted him. The man was absolutely intoxicating. And that revelation scared her big time.

  Yep, I shouldn’t have come.

  He dropped his hands. “I see you found the place okay.”

  She stared at his mouth, willing his lips to return. Her brain urged her to say something, but her tongue felt tied into a knot. How could one man cause such an instantaneous reaction? Hell, even her heart rate threatened to take off for the stratosphere. She swallowed hard. “Hi.” Somehow, she managed to roll out that one word.

  He pointed to the deli sign over the corner shop door, a gaudy display of bright orange and black lettering with paintings of deli sandwiches in every corner. “Hope you’re hungry.” He opened the door and ushered her inside.

  The place was packed. Customers lined the front of the glass display case, either placing an order or waiting for one. Six people worked behind the counter—one on the cash register, two on the griddle, and three hustling with sandwiches. The shop was long and narrow with two rows of small tables and chairs stretching from the front window to a restroom door at the rear of the store. Surprisingly, half of the tables were unoccupied.

  The abundance of aromas reminded her of home, from the richness of fresh bread to the complexity of fried onions—all familiar scents from her mother’s kitchen. Add the hominess of fresh, brewed coffee, and the dead would rise from the grave. Given a choice, she’d stand in the middle of the store for hours and sniff.

  After studying the overhead menu, she and Deems placed their orders at the register. While Deems waited, she grabbed napkins, straws, and plastic utensils then chose a table by the windows. Slipping the pack from her shoulders, she hooked the straps onto
her chair’s backrest and settled on the seat.

  She hadn’t tasted very much of New York’s cuisine. With Jan, she ate well enough, but without a kitchen at her current residence, a fast-food burger became her diet along with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Most establishments wanted a king’s ransom for a decent-size salad, and even the cost for a bottle of water was obscene.

  Deems joined her a few minutes later with a tray full of food. His order was roast beef on rye and hers a turkey and BLT combo.

  Her mouth dropped at the size of her meal with its sides of chips, pickle, and cole slaw. “How do you eat such a sandwich? It’s five inches high!”

  “Like this.” With both hands, he gripped half of his sandwich and took a bite on the edge. His cheeks bulged. “You eat in layers unless your mouth is big enough to swallow it whole.” He leaned across the table and gave a quick jerk of his head. “Like the man against the wall.”

  Following his gaze, she gasped. The man had indeed widened his mouth to bite from top to bottom. Following Deems’ instructions, she bit into her BLT combo and rolled her eyes. The taste of roasted turkey breast combined with crispy bacon burst on her tongue. Plus, a delectable cucumber and dill spread added a whole new world of flavor. Definitely not a sandwich from back home.

  She chewed before speaking. “This combo is good, and I’ve enough here for tomorrow night’s dinner. Thank you for asking me.”

  “Don’t mention it. I usually eat alone so having a companion is a welcomed change.”

  Alone? How could any woman leave him alone? Flattered that he’d chosen her, she smiled. “I’d expect a man like you to have a busy social calendar. You know, business dinners and hot dates.”

  He wagged a finger. “Business dinners, yes. Tons of those, but only an occasional date, and I won’t call them hot either. None are as enjoyable as this.” Gaze sparkling, he swept a napkin over his mouth. “Not to dispel your image of me, but I’m lousy with women on a social level. Put them in a business environment, and I’m fine. You, for some reason, are easy to talk to, and I don’t feel so tongue-tied.”