He poured the wine, twirled it so it could coat the glass and then smelled it. She was mesmerized by him. He was the most sophisticated man she had ever known. He took a sip, put the glass down and then poured one for her. She took a drink, and he smiled as he watched her.
“What,” she asked smiling back. She went to take another drink.
“That’s what I love about you,” he said, and she choked on her wine. She coughed several times and couldn’t tell if her face was red from coughing or what he had said. “You’re not pretentious. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she said as she took the napkin he handed to her. She dabbed at the tears in the corner of her eyes. “Just went down the wrong pipe,” she added. He smiled at her again and went back to making dinner. She ran through the remark again and again. Harmless - she decided. He said “that’s what I love about you” just like people say, “I’m going to kill you” or “I could just die.” Yep. That was it, she thought a little disappointed and a little relieved. She took another drink of wine - a bigger one. She started some small talk about where he learned to cook - he was making spaghetti sauce using tomatoes and fresh herbs and things she didn’t even recognize. He put a couple of black plates, knives, forks, spoons and red cloth napkins on the counter.
“Want to set the table for me?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said and stood. She started setting the glass table, and he refilled her wine glass.
“Hey, don’t forget these,” he said and put a plate of Italian bread, a small dish with olive oil in it and matches on the counter. She thought a moment about why they needed matches. She turned around and saw candles on the table. No big deal. So he likes candles burning while he eats. Only the wicks were still white all the way to the tip. He picked up the matches and came out of the kitchen. “I’ll get these,” he said. He walked past her to the table and lit each candle. His aftershave hung in the air as he went past. Nice.
She tried not to look confused and picked up the remaining items on the counter. “It will be ready in a minute,” he said and went back to the kitchen.
The sleeves of Will’s white dress shirt were rolled up to the elbow. She’d never realized he only wore white dress shirts until now. Despite the dicing of tomatoes, herbs and all of the other ingredients she didn’t recognize, he didn’t have a drop of anything on this clothing. This is how Tara Butmacher would look if she was cooking, Kristine decided with a sly smile. The smile died when she realized what she looked like on the rare occasion she had tried to cook. She’d once had to wash her hair twice to get everything out of it. She was never going to be like Tara, Emily Wentworth-Montgomery or Will. She crossed her arms in front of her as she felt an inferiority complex trying to emerge.
“Shake it off,” she told herself. “You’ll be here for what? A couple of days tops. Then you can go back to your normal life. The story will run, everyone will admire and adore you and the fact you get messy when you cook - or even the fact you can’t cook - will seem charming.” She felt better already and unfolded her arms. She even smiled with a feeling of self-satisfaction.
Dinner was fabulous - better than anything Kristine had ever had in a restaurant. Of course, after paying her outrageous rent for the extremely modest apartment, there wasn’t much left of her paycheck for fancy dining - at least not the kind of restaurants Will was probably used to patronizing.
Half way through dinner, Will opened another bottle of wine. The wine relaxed her, and they talked like two old friends about current events, world affairs and the city in which they worked. Neither of them brought up anything too personal.
After dinner, they cleared the dishes and went to the living room with their glasses and the bottle of wine. Will sat on the big white sofa and Kristine sat on the ground next to him.
“What are you doing down there?” he asked.
“The wine. I want to be closer to the floor if I fall down,” she said, and they both laughed out loud.
“Good idea,” he said and shifted from the sofa to the floor. She was feeling tipsy and brave.
“You know, I never thought I’d get a job at your paper,” she said and took another sip.
“I knew you’d get a job at my paper as soon as I saw you touring the newsroom,” he said and looked down at his wine glass. “You’re a beautiful addition to any room.” Luckily, she wasn’t drinking when he said that or wine would have shot across the room. Alarms sounded in her mind.
“The only reason I got the job is because you liked the way I looked?” She felt her temper begin to scorch her face.
“Oh no,” he looked down in embarrassment. “I wouldn’t have offered the interview and tour if I hadn’t been impressed with your written submissions. You approached stories from angles I don’t know that even I would have considered. I matched the name with your face before I knew who you were. You have this electricity about you…and…well… you’re beautiful.”
“Thanks,” she said as the alarms faded and her face cooled. “I always thought you were hot,” she said before she could catch herself. “Did I just say that out loud?” He laughed.
“Yes. You did,” he said and reached over to brush a piece of brown hair out of her eyelashes. “You have so much fire in you.”
“Fire?” she replied laughing out loud. “I’m impulsive, bordering on stupid… Look where I am and the reason I’m here.”
“You’re not stupid,” he said. “You’re passionate.”
“That’s a pretty word for stupid or at least doing stupid things,” she said, and they both laughed again.
“Like I said before, you have this electricity about you. You walk into a room and it becomes charged. Even if I don’t see you walk in, I notice the change. I don’t think I’ve ever felt the way I do when I’m in the same room with you,” he said. “I would try to be around you only when necessary, but when I went home at night… Well, it was a reminder that I’d never felt anything remotely close to that with Emily.” Alarms screamed again.
“Wait a minute,” she said straightening and sobering. “Are you saying you left your wife because of me?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that, but you were part of it. Even if I’m unable to have you, there was the promise of something more than what I had,” he said. “Kris, I know how driven you are. You’re also a lot younger than I am. No way would you give up working at the paper for an old man like me.” She sat there staring at him. Her mind stormed with wine rain, and the twister of questions started to funnel down out of the clouds again. He kept his eyes on her hair. Lighting struck illuminating a question.
“How long have you been separated?” she asked quietly.
“About a year and a half,” he said.
“That’s only about a year after I started working there,” she thought out loud.
“Yes,” he said now watching her. She avoided his stare.
“But your wife and kids came to see you at your anniversary thingy, and that wasn’t that long ago,” she said.
“I still see my girls,” he said. “I may not want to be Emily’s husband anymore, but I’ll always be the girls’ father.”
“Wow,” she said as she leaned forward and put her wine glass on the coffee table in front of her. “I had no idea,” she said.
“What I had with Emily wasn’t much of a life, Kris,” he said and pulled her back to the couch to face him. “I’m not putting pressure on you to be with me,” he added. “I just want more than I had.” She made herself look at him. Man, wine made him even more tempting. He was at least 20 years older than she was. He had two kids. He was her boss. There were so many strikes against him.
“I don’t know what to do right now,” she said.
“I understand. Want to tell me what you’re thinking,” he asked with a mixture of fear and hope in his voice.
“I don’t think I want to say it out loud,” she said.
“You can say anything to me.”
“You may not like it. It may even
be offensive.”
“Go ahead. I can handle it.”
“Could this just be one of those mid-life crisis things they’re always talking about,” she asked timidly. He laughed.
“I don’t think so. I don’t have an urge to buy a red sports car or pick up random women.”
“Oh. Wouldn’t you rather have a sports car than me,” she asked hopefully. “I’m really not that great. I sweat and can’t cook.” Had she not had so much wine, she was sure the last part would have remained just a thought. His smile never faded.
“No sports cars,” he said, but the smile was losing its hold on his lips. “Are you involved with one of the Sports guys?”
“Oh! No!” she laughed and then wondered if he had seen her leave the holiday party with one of them. She decided not to mention it. “I just toy with those guys because I can, and it’s fun. They’re the only ones in the building who are nice to me. Since we’re being honest, I kind of like the attention.”
“Okay,” the smile returned. She sat there quietly looking at the wine glass. “Now what’s going through that amazing mind of yours?”
“You mean amazingly intoxicated, don’t you? Well, I’m sure Sober Kristine would come up with a fantastically clever answer. But since she seems to have taken the night off, Drunk Kristine has mixed thoughts. Part of her wants to rip your clothes off and part of her is scared as crap and wants to run out of here,” she said using her name in the third person to distance herself from the situation. “Neither of us wants to be a home wrecker, though.”
“Do I get a vote,” he said slyly, and they both laughed uncomfortably. “Look, Em and I weren’t going to work out whether or not you came into my life. There was a time when I thought she’s what I wanted. But she’s too… perfect. The kids can’t be kids in her house, because she’s afraid they’ll ruin her carpet. She spends hours trying to look perfect, make the kids look perfect, the house look perfect and put on a show for everyone. Want to know what she said when I told her I was moving out?” Kristine shrugged. This was a lot of personal information to handle at one time. “’What will our friends think?’ That’s what she said. Can you believe that? Not ‘what about the girls?’ She was worried about outside appearances. We have different priorities.” Kristine felt a little uncomfortable and reached for the wine glass again.
“I think I need to sleep on this,” she said. “I mean, I’ve always thought you were hot, and I’ve always had my little office fantasy about you, me and your desk, but I never thought I’d be sitting here like this,” she said.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked putting his hand on her face. His hand was big and warm, and it felt like she could fall asleep with his hand on her face. This was crossing a line she wasn’t sure she should. She closed her eyes and nodded tentatively. She waited in anticipation. She could feel him shifting to get a better angle. She wanted to open her eyes, but she couldn’t. She felt him lift her chin and noticed how heavy she was breathing. She was a little relieved she was remembering to breathe at all. Then it happened. His lips touched hers gently at first. She returned his kiss. She started to want more, and his lips moved from hers. He kissed her cheeks and her forehead. He stood up, and she was still sitting there with her eyes closed. She slowly opened them.
“Good gravy,” she whispered. He laughed out loud. He held out a hand, and she took it. He helped her to her feet, walked her around the corner and down the hall. She began to feel excitement build. He stopped outside an open door and flipped on a light within the room.
“This is your room,” he said. She looked in and then looked at him confused. “Sleep on it. You’ve had a lot to absorb this evening. Sleep well. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”
“But,” she said, and he gently led her into the room by placing a hand on her back and moving her toward the bed.
“I’ll be across the hall,” he said. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.” He closed the door, and she was alone in his spare bedroom staring at the closed door. She kicked off her black heels and climbed into bed fully clothed. She grabbed her cell phone and called Derrick.
“Hello?”
“Hey. It’s Kristine. What are you doing?”
“Reading Cosmo.”
“Are you at work?”
“Of course. This is where I do all my reading. Slow night. No one wants to shoot anyone tonight. Are you drunk?”
“Yes.”
“Are you naked in a strange man’s bed?”
“No and kind of.”
“Why not and who?”
“Because and Will.”
“The Chief Editor guy?” he blurted, and she heard the hard binding of the magazine hit the desk or counter where Derrick sat.
“Editor-in-Chief and yes. I’m in his spare room. He’s helping me with a tricky story, but he did tell me he likes me.”
“So why are you in the spare room?”
“I’m thinking.”
“About what? You’ve been hot for him for as long as I’ve known you.”
“He’s my married boss,” she said.
“When was the last time you let yourself do something crazy? Buying purple lipstick that you never wear doesn’t count as crazy! Use the alcohol as an excuse to get naked and jump him,” Derrick said sounding more excited by the prospect than she could muster for herself.
“But that could screw up my job. Look, I’m hanging up before he wonders who I’m talking to in here,” she said. She could hear Derrick yelling, “Just do it!” as she closed the phone. She rolled over.
“Sleep on it,” she whispered Will’s words as she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Three
Kristine woke up with a headache and dry mouth. She looked at the big red numbers on the nightstand next to her - 7:34. She rolled on her back and rubbed her head. She didn’t remember dreaming…or did she? Had the conversation with Will been a dream? She got up, dug in one of the bags for clothes and a toothbrush and set out to find the bathroom. A half hour later, she emerged from the bathroom to the smell of coffee. Her hair was still wet and hung over the white T-shirt, which was tucked into the new jeans. The T-shirt was a little snug and the jeans were a little loose - not what she would have picked out for herself. She wondered which staff member Will had sent to buy the things for her. Probably Joyce, she thought. She went into the kitchen and felt the cold tile on her bare feet. Will was standing by the toaster.
“Good morning,” he said and turned around to see her. She was still fighting a hangover and confusion from last night.
“Good morning,” she said and leaned back against the counter. He was staring at her and smiling. “What?”
“I don’t know that I’ve seen you with your hair down like that. I like it,” he said still grinning. She reached up and felt the cold, wet hair. “There’s juice in the refrigerator and the coffee will be ready in a minute. Make yourself at home.” The toast flipped up through the slits of the toaster, and Will turned his attention to buttering.
“Thanks,” she said and walked to the refrigerator. It was stocked with a lot of healthy looking stuff. Her refrigerator had old mayonnaise, diet soda, a beer or two and left over Chinese take-out. She pulled out a bottle of water.
“Come on. Breakfast is served,” he said and took a plate of toast and the coffee pot to the dining room. She followed him. They sat down. “You’re quiet. Not a morning person?”
“Hung over,” she said and reached for a piece of toast. Will had already put some fresh fruit on the table. He poured her a cup of coffee.
“Sorry about that. I probably shouldn’t have opened the second bottle.” He wouldn’t stop smiling. It was contagious. She smiled at him. “How did you sleep?”
“I was out as soon as my head hit the pillow,” she said taking a sip of the coffee and not mentioning her conversation with Derrick. “Are you going into the office today?”
“No. I told Joyce I was working from home today. I want to help you with your story,” he sa
id. She felt a little uneasy, but she didn’t know why.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “Won’t people wonder what we’re up to?”
“I don’t care,” Will said. “For the first time in my life, I don’t care.” She watched him. He looked happy - almost like a teenager in love for the first time. He was giddy. She wasn’t sure how to react to this Will. Will was supposed to be all business. She had never thought about what he was like outside the office. “So, did you do any thinking last night?” She honestly hadn’t.
“Actually, between the wine and being exhausted I think I passed out.” They both sat quietly. “Will, I have to be honest. I don’t know if I can take anything else right now.”
“I understand,” he said.
“No, please. Let me finish.” He nodded. “Two months ago I was trekking along my only care in the world was how to beat everyone. Now I’m in hiding trying to crack potentially the biggest story of my life. And to top it off, this unattainable man, or so I thought, who I’ve been in lust with for almost three years, tells me he’s separated from his wife and has feelings for me. I’m kind of overwhelmed by everything right now, but that doesn’t mean no. It just means I need a little time to let all this sink in,” she said.
“You’re right,” he said. “I shouldn’t have put the added pressure on you.” She smiled at him.
“It’s okay, Will. It’s a nice surprise. And that kiss…wow,” she said blushing and looking down at the table. They both laughed. He reached across the table and put his hand on her arm.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said squeezing her arm. “Let me clear up these dishes. Want to go to the gym before we get to work?”
“Not unless The Gym is a clever name for an all you can eat dessert buffet,” she said standing. “Let me help you.”
“You’re lucky you don’t have to workout to stay in shape,” he said. “Here, I’ll get this. You get your stuff and take it into the office,” he said. He thought she was fit, she laughed inside her head. The two flights of stairs to her apartment often left her in need of oxygen. She looked around. The condominium was bigger than she originally thought.
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