by Sandi Perry
She stalked off toward the back of the loft and gathered her clothing, yanking open drawers and making a racket. As she turned toward the bathroom, she saw Alex leaning against the wall.
"You might want to put on an extra layer, we're going ice-skating," he said.
"We most definitely are not going ice-skating."
"Come on, it'll get your blood circulating. They say couples who share sports activities have better sex. "
"Have you been listening to anything I've said? Has anyone ever told you that you're delusional?" She threw her hands in the air. "We're not a couple. We're not going ice-skating. We're not having sex." She slammed the bathroom door shut with enough force to make the lights blink.
He whistled a happy tune as he went to toast her bagel and wait for her to get dressed.
She stalked into the bathroom and remembered the last time she'd been this furious with him. It had been at Becca's inn and that whole trip...Actually, as she thought about it, he'd shown a caring, protective side of himself she hadn't thought him capable of. Her fury deflated as she realized that he was in possession of some human decency, after all, and decided to put on a pleasant face and join him in the kitchen. Maybe his Harvard educated brain would prove handy as she tried to finish off the puzzle, she thought as she toweled off.
****
Allison made a short stop at the wall. Alex skated up smoothly behind her. "Where did you learn to skate so well?" she asked. "I doubt there are many ice-rinks in Georgia."
"I went to school in the East, remember? I joined the hockey team at M.I.T. I found the cold cleared my head. You're pretty good."
"Thanks, we went every Sunday when we were kids. I can't believe you convinced me to come to Rockefeller Center on a Sunday afternoon with all the tourists!"
"It's mid-March; all the tourists have left. Come, let's go inside and have something hot," Alex said. He reached out for her gloved hand, and they skated gracefully toward the exit.
They settled in with their hot chocolates, with a double portion of whipped cream for Alex. Allison sighed as she looked out the expansive windows of the cafe that surrounded the rink.
"It's so beautiful here," she said. "I dash past this every day on the way to work and never bother to look. Thanks for forcing me to slow down and take a breath."
"You're welcome," he said. "You know, you're capable of being nice, why are you prickly most of the time?"
"My default setting is bitch. Why do you want to hang out with me if you think I'm prickly?"
"I'm a masochist?"
"Ha, you love yourself too much to be a masochist. Why are you hanging around me, besides for the obvious reason of trying to get the job?"
"I have a hero complex. I feel the need to rescue a damsel in distress."
She took umbrage at that. "I'm not in need of rescuing."
"Allison, you're so far gone you can't see how you push people away. Your body language reads 'don't mess with me.' Now, why do you think that is?"
"Why do you care? I'll give you the job if you'll stop analyzing me!"
"Answer the question. Why do you push people away?"
"It's too frustrating to get to know someone and share yourself and then they turn out to be a jerk. It's a monumental waste of time. I have no patience for it."
"That's your reason? That's what you think?"
"Yeah, it is," she challenged, looking at him, eyeball to eyeball.
"Like I said, you're so far gone, you're in need of a major, five alarm rescue," he nodded his head slowly. "And I'm just the man for the job."
Chapter 32
"Hey Em, how are you? It feels like it's been ages since I've been here," Allison looked around the gallery the next Monday morning. She felt good and anticipated an uneventful week ahead. "What, now?" she asked as she noticed Emily's expression.
"There are a couple of things on your desk that require your immediate attention," Emily replied, leading Allison to the back of the gallery.
"What in the world?" Allison gasped as she took in the controlled chaos of her office. There were dozens of white long-stemmed roses in tall, glass vases, everywhere. The only shot of color came from the bouquet of blue hydrangeas nestled in a short, stout vase. "Who sent these?"
"I have no idea," Emily shrugged. "The roses were delivered at ten, and a half-hour later the hydrangeas came."
"Two deliveries? Why?" she wondered.
"I have the feeling they aren't from the same person. They're from different shops. Read the cards—I'm dying of curiosity."
"This kind of thing never happens to me," Allison said, shaking her head as she reached for the card attached to the largest bouquet of roses. "Thank you for your sage words. We are back on speaking terms, All the Best, Michael," she read.
"Michael who?" Emily asked.
Allison ignored her as she reached for the card on the hydrangeas, "These flowers are blue, and so am I, without you, Alex," she said slowly.
"Is that gorgeous Alex from work?" Emily was trying to keep up, Allison noticed.
She was still wearing her coat as she looked around at the mini-flower shop that had once been her office. Turning toward Emily she said, "Be a sweetheart and put all the roses out in the front where everyone can enjoy them."
"And what about the hydrangeas?"
As Allison headed toward the front door, she called over her shoulder, "Leave them on my desk, please."
"Where are you going?" Emily asked. "You just got here."
Allison turned to face her, "There's someone I have to see, to say thank you in person," she smiled. She headed toward the street to hail a cab.
****
Allison took the elevator up to the thirty-third floor of 1251 Avenue of the Americas and tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach. She hastened to Alex's office before she lost her nerve. Her steps slowed as she got closer, stopping completely as she peered through his glass door. He was on the phone, his back to her, as he threw a soft mini-basketball up in the air. He threw it behind his back and caught it each time. Then he started to throw it against the wall. His office was next to Paul's, and she smiled, realizing they couldn't be any more different. She almost lost her nerve, but Alex turned just then and spotted her. He broke out into a wide grin, waved her in, and quickly got off the phone.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi, back," he said as he sat down.
"I love the flowers; hydrangeas are a favorite of mine."
"Just wanted to remind you of the South, where they grow in abundance. We had a good time when we were down there."
She nodded in response.
"And we had a good time when we went up North," he said.
She nodded.
"Hell, it seems like we have a good time anywhere we go—as long as we're together."
She nodded once again. "Well, I just wanted to thank you... sooo thanks," she turned around to leave.
"Chicken," he said from behind the desk.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. You could have called and thanked me. But no, you came all the way up here from your shop, and now you're too chicken to say why you came."
"Stop saying that."
"Chicken, chicken, chicken," he taunted.
"Seriously, Alex, I can't believe what a child you are," she straightened her back. "Just forget it. You're right I should have called."
"But you didn't. You're here. So spill."
"No, here I am trying to be nice and you're taunting me." She jumped to her feet and flung out her arm "Like, like ...I'm one of your sisters for goodness sakes!"
"You know what? You're absolutely right. I'm sorry." He ran after her as she headed down the hallway. He leaned in and whispered, "Please come back and we'll have an adult conversation."
She agreed and walked back into his office aware of the many ears and eyes following them.
"Well, we just caused quite a spectacle," she said, as she stood near the door, ready to flee at a moment's notice.
&
nbsp; He smiled, "Maybe more like a stir, than a spectacle. Let me make it up to you—how about dinner this evening?"
"What? I was going to ask you out!"
"Aha! So that was the reason you came up here. Well. I'd love to."
She sucked in her bottom lip."There's a great restaurant, Boom, not far from my building. I've been meaning to check it out. We could go there," she faltered as she spoke. Her cheeks were blazing—she'd never asked a man out before.
"Who's paying?"
"What? Um, I don't know...we can split it if you want."
"I want to know, because if you're paying, you might think you're entitled to somethin'—if you get my drift," he leered at her.
She laughed aloud when she realized he was baiting her. Well, time to bait him right back, she thought. Flashing him a huge smile, she walked to where he was seated. Leaning into him ever so slowly, she whispered in his ear. "I'll be paying," she said. "It's time we evened up the score."
He stood up in a flash and whispered. "No, a gentleman always pays."
"I might have to think about that—I don't want you thinking you'll be entitled to something," she replied.
"Darling, I'm a Southerner. I grew up feeling entitled. See you at seven-thirty," he smiled.
Chapter 33
Allison stood in front of her closet wearing a pair of hip hugging black pants and a bra, shaking her head in disgust. She flicked the hangers impatiently. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing here to wear. She stalked over to her armoire and yanked it open. A lacy black camisole...hm, too sexy for a first date. She pulled out a maroon turtleneck...too prim for a first date. She settled on a soft-pink cashmere twin set and flipped three silvery, long chains around her neck. A look in the mirror had her groaning aloud, and she headed back to the closet. She selected a short black skirt and leather boots and returned to the mirror to survey the overall effect. Her bangs had grown out, and her hair was parted crisply down the middle. She flipped her head forward and tried to tousle her hair like she saw the women do on the shampoo commercials. She straightened up again. Her silky hair still swung straight down to her shoulders, and she gave up trying to have it look soft and casual. She spied the clock on her bed stand and gasped; it was a few minutes before seven. Grabbing her coat, she yanked open the door just as Kenyon was raising his hand to knock
"Where are you rushing off to?" he asked.
"Going out."
"To a P.T.A. meeting?"
"Ha, ha, move please, I'm late."
"Your mother dresses sexier than that when she throws out the garbage," he huffed. "Come with me." He grabbed her hand and half-dragged her to the back of the loft.
"I don't have time for this," she protested.
He ignored her and pointed at the sweater set, "Off with that." He pulled a sheer Donna Karan blouse in a rich claret out of the closet and handed it to her.
She stood with her arms at her side, making no move to take the blouse, "I'm not wearing that— it's too sexy."
"You're supposed to look sexy when you go out on a date, Ally. It's a given that when a guy asks a girl out on a date and she accepts, that after a candlelight dinner, and a nice bottle of wine, that there might be some foo-foo."
"Some foo-foo," she arched her brows. "Well, in that case, I'm glad that I'm the one who asked him out, so the contractual implication is null and void."
"Take off the damned sweater, Allison, and here." He held out a pair of red patent pumps.
"Oh no, not the red pumps."
"Look me in the eye and tell me you're not attracted to Alex."
"Who said anything about Alex?"
Kenyon snorted in response and shoved the shoes into her hands. He watched as she changed into the blouse and took off the boots.
She looked at him, "Satisfied?"
"Not yet."
"Step this way," he motioned at her. He pulled a brush out of the bathroom and squeezed some mousse into his palm. He mussed, pulled and teased her hair mercilessly. When he was done, she looked in the mirror.
"Yikes, I look like I just woke up!"
"Perfect," he said.
She looked at herself for a couple of more minutes, "Fine, do you also want to come along and cut my steak for me?"
He smiled, "Just one more thing."
"Now what?"
"Just remember to have a good time," he said as he bent to kiss her cheek.
****
Alex was waiting when she hurried through the door. She spotted him immediately as he lounged against the bar, hands in his pockets. He straightened as he saw her and flashed a wide grin.
He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "You look amazing; remind me to send a bunch of hydrangeas to thank Kenyon."
"Kenyon? How do you know about that?" she frowned.
"He texted me a minute ago to tell me to enjoy you and all your beauty."
"Since when have you two become friends?"
"Since we made keeping you safe our number one priority," he nodded at the hostess as she led them to their table in the back.
Allison slipped into the banquette. There was a row of votive candles down the center of the table.
"You don't really think I'm in any danger—do you?" She broke her gaze from the candles and looked at his frown.
"I'm afraid I do," he said grimly. "My instincts are screaming that we're missing something obvious. The police should've turned something up by now."
She shuddered, "This isn't exactly first-date conversation."
"Well, this isn't technically our first date."
"It isn't? Did I miss something?"
"Well, I would say if you've already slept with a woman, that would've qualified as a first date."
"That was an extreme circumstance, it's not like we willingly slept together."
"That's not how I remembered it," he reached for his glass of water and signaled the server.
"Oh," she said. "I barely remember it at all."
"Is that so?" he asked softly, "Well, then I'll just have to refresh your memory." He ordered a bottle of wine and leaned back in his chair to observe her nervous fiddling.
Allison took a calming breath and smiled. She was determined to be a good date despite his goading. After all, she was the one who had asked him out, and it would be impolite to act otherwise. When he reached his hand around the edge of the table and put it over hers, she felt froze. She took a couple of deep breaths, but they did nothing to dispel the rising panic she felt, as her heart hammered against her chest. She reached up to smooth her throat with her free hand, hyper-aware that her every movement was being watched. After what seemed like an eternity, her heartbeat returned to normal, and she was able to look Alex in the eye, but not before she looked meaningfully at his hand— still covering hers.
"I believe I might have just had my first panic attack, "she said.
He nodded easily, "I believe that's a good thing."
"Not from where I'm sitting," she shook her head.
"It means you're starting to feel, Allison. You're allowing your emotions into your life."
He slowly took his hand off hers, and she felt a profound sense of relief.
She turned her attention to the server who was putting their salads in front of them. He offered her a pinch of freshly ground black pepper, and after accepting, dug into her greens with a gusto never before shown.
"You know I would never dominate or suffocate you," Alex said gently.
She paused with a grape tomato mid-way towards her mouth. "I know you're not the smothering type."
"Yet, you still felt trapped when I put my hand on yours. Like I would lay claim to your life. That's not me."
"I know," Allison whispered.
"This past summer," he continued, "I spent a week down in Buckhead. I took some of my nephews and nieces to the beach one day. It was fascinating as I watched their varying reactions to the water. One of my two-year old nephews was fearless. He kept running across the sand and had to be pulled away from the o
cean. It appeared as if he was making every attempt to drown himself." He shook his head as he laughed. "I swear, I thought the kid was going to end up in Florida. My sister kept screeching at him like a nut. Anyway, while all of that was going on, I saw his older brother, six years old put his toes at the water's edge, as if daring the water to rush up to him. But the minute it did, he went running back to his mother on the blanket. I don't know if that was a result of naturally-learned caution, or the fear my sister's yelling might have instilled in him over the years. I've thought about it a lot, for some reason the whole thing struck a nerve with me."
He looked up as the server set his steak down in front of him. Allison had ordered salmon in dill sauce and tentatively picked up her fork to test it. The sauce was a little too green looking for her, or maybe she was just feeling queasy about this whole evening. She looked up at Alex, belatedly aware that he had yet to make his point, but very aware that she would be the punch line of the story.
Alex smiled, "I think that when we're born our personality is hard-wired into our brains. Then, at some point, the outside influences, our parents, even the order of our birth..."
"You being an only son..." she contributed in a feeble attempt to get the subject off of herself and onto Alex.
"Exactly. All these things determine who we become. But, once in a while, despite all the admonitions, we venture out and push ourselves past our comfort zones."
"Alex, please, I know where you're headed with all this."
"If you could indulge me and let me finish."
She nodded.
"No one is shouting at you from the beach, Ally, the noise is all in your head."
"Well now, you're just making me sound crazy."
"I'm sorry. That's not my point at all. I'm bungling this, big time. I only want to say that you're terrific and everyone thinks you're terrific, the only thing holding you back is you."
"That's an obnoxious thing to say—holding me back from what? I have a great gallery, I have friends...I have things!" She could not believe he had her raising her voice in the restaurant.
"You're right; I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. Let's try to remember why we came."
"Why was that?" she snapped.