That New York Minute

by Abby Gaines

  “We’re more than colleagues,” she said. “Whether you like it or not. And that’s not me latching on. That’s the way it is.”

  “Or,” he said, “you’re an attractive woman and I just spun you my best pickup sob story.”

  She gave him a contemptuous look. “Not even you are that much of a jerk.”

  “That’s what you think. I’m strongly considering kissing you,” he said.

  Her eyes widened. “Don’t you dare.”

  That was more like it. Now he had her on the back foot. Kissing Rachel might be a very bad idea, but if it put her off-balance and trivialized what he’d just told her, that was good.

  “Makes a lot of sense to me,” he said. Her bristle of alarm made him feel a lot more cheerful. “You told me the other day you like my butt—”

  “I didn’t mean that, I never even looked at your butt!”

  “And I definitely like your legs.” It wasn’t her legs he was eyeing right now… He found the vee of her rose-pink wrap-style dress. “Maybe I’d like the whole—”

  “Don’t you dare say hog,” she warned.

  “Shebang,” he said, grinning.

  “I apologize,” she said quickly. “I shouldn’t have pestered you about your mom.”

  Now she would concede she’d overstepped the mark. Now that she was worried he might do the same, and kiss her.

  Why the hell shouldn’t he?

  She pulled a fresh copy of Higher Education Monthly from her stack, flipped open the cover and bent over the magazine.

  He gave her half a minute, to lull her fears. “I’ve always envied people who can read upside down,” he said.

  Wordlessly, she turned the magazine right way up.

  Her focus on the page meant he couldn’t see her eyes. Just the sweep of her lashes over cheeks that were pinker than normal. And those lips.

  “The more I think about it,” he said, “the less I can think of one good reason why I shouldn’t kiss you.”

  “We’re in a library,” she murmured without looking up. As if he’d commented on the weather. “A public library. A library is meant to be a safe place.”

  “A tame place,” he agreed.

  Her head came up, her blue eyes sparked…and a wave of fierce—and given the circumstance, insane—desire swept over him. She said, “If you think for one moment you can taunt me into—”

  He shut her up with a kiss, swift and hard, on her mouth. Eyes stayed open, his and hers, throughout, and he smiled at the thought they were still playing chicken.

  Rachel’s lips moved beneath his smile, parted just a little, and he realized that if he didn’t stop now, he’d be taking this to a whole new level. That he’d leaned right into her, and already his hand was molding possessively to the curve of her waist. Already he was thinking about how she would taste. How she would fit against him…

  Hell. He pulled back, ending the kiss as abruptly as he’d begun it.

  A copy of MAD magazine suddenly appeared two inches from his face, blocking his view of Rachel.

  “I found the latest issue,” Mrs. G. said.

  Garrett took it from her.

  “I don’t need to remind you about rule number two, do I?” she asked.

  “Ah, no,” he said. “Sorry, Mrs. G.”

  The librarian left. She glanced over her shoulder after a few steps, just to make sure no one was locking lips.

  “Rule number two?” Rachel’s words were muffled—Garrett wondered if she knew she had her fingers pressed to her lips. Pressed to the trace of his kiss.

  “‘Engaging in sexual conduct or lewd behavior is not allowed.’” He quoted from the library’s rules.

  Rachel’s eyes widened. “She’s had to call you on that before?”

  “All the time,” he said, though in fact it was once, ten years ago. He eyed her broodingly.

  “What now?” she said.

  “I have to say, that kiss was better than I expected.”

  “There was a certain chemistry thing happening,” she agreed. Then she frowned. “I’m not proud of it, Garrett, so there’s no need to look so pleased with yourself.”

  He realized he was indeed smiling. Rather more widely than a mere kiss warranted.

  “We won’t do that again,” she decided.

  He’d been about to say the same thing. “Not in the library,” he agreed. “Next time, we’ll be somewhere it can last longer.”

  He expected instant disagreement…but instead, she sat there, staring at his mouth.

  “Rach?”

  The contraction was enough to pull her out of her trance. “Not anywhere,” she said. Her gaze flickered back to his mouth before she resolutely dragged it north. “And it’s Rachel.”

  He’d had women find him attractive before, plenty of them. But never with such reluctance. He thought of the way her eyes had stayed open during that kiss, her brain fighting it, her body yielding. Intriguing. Almost worth the aggravation of sharing an office building with Rachel.

  But not quite.

  * * *

  DWIGHT CALDER STARED through the window of the shop that sold high-end TVs, at the colorful, flicker-free screens. Some incompetent store assistant had left one TV on a different channel from the others, so passersby saw six identical images of a daytime soap, with a cooking show in the middle. Stephanie loved those food shows that seemed to be on every second minute. Though he had no idea if she ever watched TV in the middle of the day.

  Dwight pulled his coat around him. It was far too warm—he looked like a damn pervert—but an important meeting this morning had required him to wear service blues, and the jacket with its gold braiding on the sleeves was even more conspicuous. The decision to drive down to the West Village had been spur-of-the-moment; Dwight hadn’t had a change of clothes at the office.

  It was usually a mistake to act on the spur of the moment, any military strategist knew that.

  On that solitary cooking-show screen, the chef plated a serving of pork belly with crisp, golden crackle and gratin potatoes. Dwight’s stomach growled; he frowned downward, and it subsided. He hadn’t had a decent meal in days. With the exception of the admiralty dinner in Annapolis, where he’d been too stressed trying to explain Stephanie’s absence without actually lying to enjoy the food.

  I shouldn’t have come. He’d told Stephanie he wouldn’t give her another chance. She knew he meant it. Even so, he was slightly shocked that she hadn’t called. Not even to see how he was. Did she even think about him? He thought about her and the baby. Which was why he was here. Just to see if she was all right. He wouldn’t beg her to come back, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still his responsibility.

  The simplest way to check on her was to phone, but she wasn’t taking his calls. He was damned if he was going to ask Garrett, and give his oldest son a chance to gloat.

  The next simplest was to knock on the door of the apartment.

  But he didn’t want Stephanie to think he was giving in. Or needy. Weak. He hadn’t got where he was today without commanding absolute respect.

  So he’d parked the Hummer four blocks away. To the south, not the north, which seemed the more obvious choice if anyone was looking out for him. Then he’d walked up here with the idea of…what?

  He wasn’t sure, even though he despised uncertainty. He just wanted to make sure the environment was safe for his wife and baby—some flaky people lived in this part of town. His own son was one of them, changing jobs like other people changed their underpants, and never having a steady girlfriend.

  Dwight would make sure Stephanie was all right, then he would leave her alone. What the military called a strategic retreat, a decision not to squander further resources—in this case, his time and energy.

  Where was she, anyway? When he’d visited the other day, he’d seen a Pilates schedule stuck to the fridge, which he assumed was hers. Assumed his son wasn’t doing some sissy yogalike exercise. She’d circled a Friday-afternoon class. If she’d attended, she should be
returning about now.

  Dwight turned away from the window and scanned the street for hazards. The cobbled surface was enough to give him hives. Stephanie had grown clumsier as the pregnancy progressed. She could slip or stumble on those cobbles and break her ankle, just like that. And what about that blind corner? In just the past fifteen minutes, Dwight had seen three cabs come around it at reckless speed. Anyone crossing the narrow street would have been bowled over.

  Dwight had almost given up waiting when he saw her. Stephanie. About a hundred and fifty yards away, he estimated, but headed straight for him. He recognized the rolling gait she’d adopted in pregnancy, which reminded him a little of walking on board ship. He didn’t recognize the sweater, a bright red number that accentuated her swollen stomach. She didn’t usually wear such vivid colors. She didn’t look as if she’d been to a gym class—did she have other places to go, that he didn’t know about? If anything happened to her, would anyone know to contact him?

  He stared back at the store window, the TV sets, his vision fogged with alarm. He should confront her, demand to know if she was taking care of herself. But he didn’t want her to see him. To think he missed her. Better to let her make the first move. Which would have to include an apology and an assurance that something like this wasn’t going to happen again. If she could offer that, then maybe, just maybe, he would consider taking her back.

  He realized that if she looked this way now, she would see him. He needed to move fast if he wanted to remain undetected. Dwight rammed his hands in his coat pockets and headed into the TV store, aware his pulse was racing. The prospect of getting caught had adrenaline surging through his veins.

  “Good afternoon, sir.” A clerk approached. “Can I help you?”

  “Not just now.” Dwight moved as deep into the store as he could while still keeping a view of the street.

  “We have a great deal on forty-inch TVs this week,” the clerk said. “They’re optimized for Facebook, for YouTube…” He trailed off, perhaps recognizing Dwight wasn’t a big user of what Garrett called social media and Dwight called time-wasters.

  Outside, Stephanie walked past the window, chin high, scanning the street in front of her with a smile that seemed altogether too relaxed for a woman who was facing life as a single parent, without a husband to look after her. Dwight was pleased to see that at least her sandals had low heels that shouldn’t be too risky on those cobbles. She looked good in her slim-fitting pants; her long legs were the second thing that had attracted him to her when he’d met her at the memorial service at Woodlawn for servicemen lost in Vietnam. Dwight had been a new recruit in that war; Stephanie’s father had been a captain who’d died in battle and was buried at Woodlawn.

  The first thing that had attracted him had been her wide, bright eyes. Eyes that lately had been filled with disappointment.

  “Are you sure there’s nothing I can help you with, sir?” The clerk stood beside Dwight, trying to figure out the direction of his gaze, which TV set he might be eyeing.

  “You can get me the recipe for the pork belly on that cooking show.” Dwight pointed toward the rogue TV.

  “Uh…” The man faltered. “We don’t have recipes… .”

  “Then find it,” Dwight snapped. Such was the strength of his force of command that the young man hurried to the counter, leaving Dwight to watch his wife. She’d passed the window now, so he moved to the front of the store, where he could watch her all the way to Garrett’s building.

  Dwight stiffened as a homeless man accosted Stephanie. She dipped into her purse, gave the guy something from the stash of coins she kept for that very purpose and walked on.

  “Sir, I have that recipe for you. I found it on the TV station’s website.” The clerk was beaming with pride at his achievement. Anyone would think he’d single-handedly fought off the Vietcong.

  Dwight took the printout the young man offered. “Thank you.” Grudgingly, he added, “Good work.” Because an officer should give his men credit when it was due. It occurred to him that maybe he hadn’t given Stephanie enough credit for her role in their family. Maybe he should say something encouraging. If they talked again. And when they did, he would also make sure she was taking proper care of her health. He couldn’t rely on Garrett to do that—his oldest son had never shown any concern for her.

  But would Stephanie tell him what he needed to know? She hadn’t bothered to contact him since she’d left.

  The best way to know she was safe was to observe her himself. He trusted his own judgment. So what if she didn’t want to spend time with him? Admiral Dwight Calder wouldn’t let a little thing like that get in his way. He would keep tabs on his wife, even if he had to do it discreetly enough that she didn’t know about it.

  Making that decision made Dwight feel much better. He would take action to protect his own.

  Neatly, he folded the recipe the clerk had given him and slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket. The clerk’s eyes widened when he saw the gold bands of rank on his sleeve, protruding from his cuff. Dwight saw respect in his face.

  He gave the boy a brief smile. Nice to know his service to his country still commanded the respect of someone. Even if it wasn’t his son. Or his wife.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  TONY HAD JUST CLOSED the weekly planning meeting when he said, “Rachel, Garrett, could you two stay a minute?”

  They’d been seen kissing in the New York Public Library! The panicked thought raced through Rachel’s head.

  “Sure, Tony.” She smoothed her skirt over her knees and tried to look unconcerned. KBC was relaxed about fraternization between same-level colleagues, and, kissing Garrett wasn’t a crime—criminally good, maybe, a little voice suggested, but she squelched that. Tony’s request was positive, she told herself. She’d planned to stay behind after the meeting anyway; she had some ideas that might remind the partners of her value to the firm.

  She’d had a couple more “coaching” sessions with Garrett, and Tony seemed quite impressed with her reports.

  But she didn’t know if she was doing enough to cover all the bases. And she still wasn’t happy with her creative ideas.

  Meanwhile, word among the account executives was that Garrett’s team was putting in long hours. She had to figure they had inspiring ideas.

  She wasn’t so sure how Clive’s team was doing. Clive had disappeared to a couple of unexplained meetings out of the office, according to Haylee, reporting from the rumor mill.

  Rachel was worried. She needed to bolster her standing in other areas.

  She didn’t look at Garrett as Clive and the other creative directors, who weren’t quite as senior as the three partners designate, filed out. She’d been avoiding him ever since their encounter in the library, other than in their coaching sessions, where she now made sure to keep a proper distance between them.

  That kiss… She never should have kissed him back. She had discovered in the small hours of the night that to think of that kiss was to relive it constantly. And to want more.

  Not going to happen. Garrett was the exact opposite of what she was looking for. She wanted someone reliable, committed, family focused. Not a guy who lived by the motto “Let it go.”

  The fact that they were going after the same job was a minor complication compared with all their other differences.

  When they were alone, Tony leaned back in his chair, beaming. “I need to give the two of you some kudos,” he said.

  That sounded positive. Rachel relaxed her grip on her hem. “Great! What for?”

  Garrett shook his head. Maybe she had sounded a bit too puppy-dog eager, but Tony liked suck-ups and she needed every advantage she could get. Garrett was the last person whose advice she should take on how to relate to senior management.

  “I’ve been doing a bit of MBWA,” Tony said. Management By Wandering Around.

  Garrett’s eyes glazed over. He hated corporate-speak, of course.

  “I noticed,” Rachel said. “My team did,
too. They’re enjoying the attention our work is getting at the top levels of the organization.”

  “Good, good,” Tony said. “The staff need to know we genuinely care.”

  “You can’t fake that,” Rachel agreed. “Who would even want to?”

  Her unsubtle dig had Garrett pressing his fingertips to his temples in a pained fashion.

  “I mean, I think of KBC as a family.” Rachel might as well stake her claim to the people-skills high ground. “And family cares about each other.” She emphasized the word just to annoy Garrett.

  “Does that make you my sister?” Garrett asked. “Because if so, it’s kind of creepy that we—”

  “Why the kudos, Tony?” Rachel asked brightly.

  “Ah, yes.” Tony pressed his palms into his desk and leaned forward. “I’ve had great feedback from your team, Garrett. Alice told me you spent time with her looking at professional development opportunities. She was very impressed with your patience and commitment to her role in the firm.”

  Rachel stared at Garrett. He’d sat down with Alice and planned her training? That sounded like more than lip service.

  Garrett grunted to Tony, somehow managing to convey that he was ignoring Rachel.

  “And I know Adam has appreciated your recent encouragement,” Tony said. “He sees you as quite the role model.”

  What? Garrett had taken Rachel’s advice seriously enough to work with Adam, as well?

  “I’d love to take all the credit for the improvement,” Garrett said, “but Rachel’s the miracle worker. Thanks to her, I’m a changed man.”

  “Thanks,” she said reluctantly, sensing a trap.

  That gleam in his eyes said he knew what she was thinking, and she was right to be wary. “Tony, would you say I’ve now addressed the partners’ concerns about my team skills?” he asked.

  “I think I would.”

  “In that case,” Garrett said, “Rachel and I can safely end our mentoring arrangement now. I’m sure Rachel would appreciate more time to spend on her pitch.”