by Lyn Horner
Char couldn’t make out his expression in the car’s dark interior, but his wistful tone conveyed a wealth of love and sadness. “You were very close to him, weren’t you?”
His voice turned gruff. “Yeah. When he died, I lost my father and my best friend.”
“You were lucky,” she murmured, plucking at her skirt and staring at the bright city lights. “Not for losing him but for having him as long as you did.”
Tristan wanted to kick himself. He’d caused her to think of her own no-good father. He reached out to touch her hand, hoping the gloves he wore would protect her from his muddled feelings. “I’m sorry for making you sad again. Let’s talk about something cheerful. Have you been to any Broadway plays?”
Her voice brightened. “I’ve been to a couple. How about you?”
He kept their conversation light from then on. Arriving at the Long Island estate, he parked outside the front door and helped Char from the car.
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” she said, facing him, clutching her little handbag with both hands. “I’m fine from here. You don’t need to see me in.”
Shrugging, he countered, “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I were to just drop you off and drive away, now would I?”
She didn’t argue. He walked her inside and waited while she spoke briefly with Sally, the gray-haired relief nurse. The woman informed her that Marilee had been fine all evening and was now asleep in bed. Char paid her and saw her out, standing in the doorway, watching until the nurse was safely in her car and on her way.
“Do you pay her out of your own pocket?” Tristan asked as Char closed the door and turned to face him.
“No.” She shook her head, glossy auburn hair swinging softly. “Johanna provides a household and emergency fund. I pay Sally out of that.”
“Good.” He strolled toward her as she moved away from the door, meeting her halfway. He’d unbuttoned his coat but had left his gloves on. Now he risked removing them and stuffed them in his pockets. She watched with wide sapphire eyes. He caught her hands, drawing a sharp gasp from her, but she didn’t pull away.
“Is my touch hurting you?”
“N-no, but I think you should –”
“Shh. I’m going to kiss you, angel. You can break away at any time if I cause you pain. I won’t try to stop you. Alright?”
A panicky expression swept across her face. Tristan expected her to jerk her hands away and order him out once again. Instead, her initial panic morphed into a look of reluctant temptation. She gave a jerky, uncertain nod. Trying to think only happy thoughts, he stepped closer, lightly gripped her arms and bent his head. Her warm, rapid breaths brushed his cheek and she closed her eyes at the last second. When he touched his lips to hers, she jumped and a muffled cry burst from her throat. He instantly drew back.
“Are you okay?” he asked, worriedly studying her flushed face.
“Y-yes. The feeling just startled me.”
“In a good way?” He eyed her, doubtful yet hopeful.
“Yes,” she whispered, wonderment written on her face.
He grinned in relief. “In that case … .” He kissed her lightly, lips playing over hers, allowing her to get used to the experience. Feeling her gradually relax, he flicked his tongue at the closure of her lips until she opened to him. He gently probed the honeyed interior of her mouth. She moaned softly and her hands crept up his chest under his coat. Breathing hard, he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her close.
She responded more eagerly by the second, surprising and elating him. He wove one hand through her silky, sweet smelling hair while his other hand traveled up and down her back. He had to fight his growing desire for her. Fearing he might lose control, he broke off their kiss.
“We have to stop,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t want to hurt or frighten you.”
She looked dazed, with pleasure, he hoped. “You didn’t. What I felt was amazing.” Her sultry voice was as hoarse as his.
Smiling, he ran his hands up and down her arms. “I’m glad you didn’t suffer the painful feelings I gave off at the Christmas party. And that’s thanks to you, angel. You’re good medicine for me.” He traced the delicate line of her jaw, loving her dreamy smile and the way she shivered at his touch. “Can I see you again?”
“Yes, I’d like that.”
“I’ll call you. Soon.” He kissed her quick and left before he forgot his good intentions and turned back to her.
Char stood rooted in the hall, staring at the closed door. She hugged herself, insides churning with echoes of the fiery sensations that had jolted her in Tristan’s arms. He’d feared hurting her, but what he’d made her feel wasn’t pain; it was exciting and pleasurable. She’d wanted it to go on and on. When he stopped kissing her, she’d wanted to grab his shirt and pull him close again. She laughed at the remembered urge, so strange for her.
If he hadn’t stopped, what might have happened, she wondered, making her way upstairs to check on Marilee. Would he have tried to make love to her? Would she have let him? Her heart speeded up at the thought. She’d never dared take a lover when she was in college or later while working at the hospital in Raleigh. Dread of what she might sense from a man if she allowed him close had always inhibited her.
Yet, tonight with Tristan, her fear had melted away. She’d felt a shadow of sadness over the death of his fiancée, sure, but not the overwhelming grief he’d exuded at the Christmas party. Nor had he given off any hint of resentment because of her empathic ability, as her father had shown toward her mother and herself. On the contrary, he’d been filled with caring and desire for her, magnifying her reaction to him.
His intoxicating kiss made her want what she’d never believed possible, a normal relationship with a man. The prospect thrilled her, but she must be careful. This thing with Tristan might be a passing episode, but even if it was, she felt like she’d been given a great gift tonight.
CHAPTER FIVE
Tristan called the following afternoon. Char was unpacking groceries she’d had delivered from a local market. Hands full with a carton of milk and a glass bottle of apple juice, she let the phone ring until both containers were safely stored in the refrigerator. Then she dashed to the phone and answered without bothering to see who was calling.
“Hello,” she said rather breathlessly.
“Hi, angel,” said Tristan’s familiar voice. “Is everything okay there? You sound out of breath.”
“Oh! Hi. Yes, we’re fine. I was just rushing around, putting away groceries.” She didn’t tell him her pulse had also begun to race.
“You want to call me back?”
“No, all the cold items are in the frig. I can talk, for a minute.” Not wanting to sound too eager despite how he disturbed her, she forced herself to speak in an even tone.
After a heartbeat of silence, he said, “Alright, I’ll get right to the point. Would you like to go ice skating?”
She laughed, taken totally off guard. “You want me to go ice skating with you?”
“Yeah. Is that so strange?”
“Well, it’s the last thing I’d expected you to ask.” She hastily added, “I mean it seems out of character for an ex-cop.”
He chuckled. “Not for this ex-cop. I’ve always loved winter sports. I grew up ice skating at a rink near where we lived in the Bronx. I also enjoy skiing and snowmobiling.” He took a breath. “So, do you want to go skating with me?”
“I, uh, don’t know. I haven’t skated in a long time.”
“You know the old saying, it’s like riding a bike? Skating is the same, it’ll come back to you. Now, what do you say?”
Did she want to go? The thought excited her. She hadn’t skated in years but she’d loved skating as a girl with her mom. More importantly, she wanted to see Tristan again. Her reaction to his kiss last night had left her fearful and euphoric, and wanting more.
“Char, are you still there?” he asked.
“Yes, I … I was just thinking I’d nee
d to call Sally again and see if she has a day free. Um, you do want to go in the daytime, don’t you?”
“If that’s what you prefer, sure, it’s fine with me.”
“Yes, I think that’s best.” There’d be a crowd of people, she assumed, whether during the day or at night, but in daylight she could see better to avoid any close contact.
“I take this to mean you’ll go, then?”
“Yes.”
“Terrific! Check with Sally and call me back. Oh, and I’ll pick you up this time.”
“Alright.” She squelched a giggle at his excitement, and her own.
Two days later, Tristan arrived early in the afternoon driving his Porsche. Seeing the car in the light of day, Char admired its low-slung silver body even more than the first time she’d seen it. Buckling into the luxurious interior, she thought she could get used to this.
Idiot! This romance with Tristan probably won’t last. Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.
He turned on the radio and they listened to music, talking of nothing serious on the way to Manhattan. Parking in his reserved spot again, he offered his arm. She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, insulated for the most part from his emotions by his jacket and her fleece-lined glove. They negotiated the crowded streets and walked through the Channel Gardens, reaching the Rink at Rockefeller Center in a few minutes.
The first thing Char saw was the huge decorated Christmas tree behind the rink. Maybe she shouldn’t have insisted on coming here during the day, she thought, wishing she could see the tree lighted up after dark. Then she saw the long line of people waiting for their turn on the ice. Her stomach plummeted and she smothered a groan. She didn’t relish standing there absorbing impatience and irritability from the throng around her.
“We don’t need to stand in line,” Tristan said. “I made a reservation for us.”
Relieved to hear that, she accompanied him on a roundabout route involving stairs and an elevator. They ended up on a lower level, where they entered a heated tent called the VIP Igloo. They were greeted by a friendly young man in a red and gray jacket who identified himself as Rick, their skate concierge. He helped them with rental skates and said they were welcome to take a break and warm up any time they wished in the Igloo. Thanking him, they donned their skates and wobbled carefully out to the rink.
A gap opened among the skaters circling the ice. Taking her hand, Tristan said, “Come on. We’ll take it slow at first.”
Char gained her balance and within moments, she felt like only days had passed since she last skated, instead of years. She remembered all the times her mother had taken her skating, how much fun they’d had, how free of care and worry they’d been for those few brief hours. Tristan didn’t know it but he was giving her the same feeling now.
He was a good skater but she easily kept up with him. After several circuits of the rink she decided to show off the skills her mother had taught her. Drawing her hand from Tristan’s, she gave him a mischievous grin, bent low and flew past other skaters. When she came around and passed Tristan she whirled, waved and laughed at his slack-jawed expression. Oh, how she’d missed the thrill of flying across the ice!
Slowing, she skated to an open area in the middle of the rink and propelled herself into a spin, swinging her arms to gain momentum. Then she lowered into a sit spin on one skate with her other leg and both arms straight out in front. Rising out of the squat position, she dug the toe pick of one skate into the ice to stop.
Breathing hard, she glanced around and saw she had an audience. Several people applauded in appreciation. She smiled breathlessly and waved. Turning, she spotted Tristan leaning against the wall that surrounded the rink. He grinned and shook his head as she skated over to him.
“You’re amazing,” he said, looping his arm around hers. “You make me look like a raw beginner. How did you learn all those moves?”
She laughed, still a bit out of breath. “My mom taught me … back home.”
“Ah yes, in the mountains of North Carolina, where I assume winter offers plenty of chances to skate.”
“Right, and ski.” She brushed stray hair off her flushed, slightly damp cheeks.
His eyebrows shot up. “So you’re also a great skier?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” She made a face and rocked her hand from side to side. “But I can usually make it down a slope without falling.”
“In that case, we ought to head up to the Catskills this weekend and do some skiing.”
Startled, she blinked and stared at him. “I-I’m sure that would be fun but I’d have a hard time getting away for that long.”
“Sally might be willing to stay with Marilee. Why don’t you ask her?”
She shifted her gaze to the passing skaters. “Let me think about it. Johanna isn’t happy when I take off too much time.” Although true, it was an excuse to allow her time to process his unnerving suggestion.
“Sure, I understand. Come on, let’s skate. Our ninety-minute session will be over before you know it.”
Char lost her taste for showing off after that. She smiled and enjoyed the rest of their time on the ice, with a short break in the Igloo, but the idea of going on a skiing trip with Tristan hovered in her thoughts. Did she want to spend a weekend with him at a ski lodge? Did she dare?
They returned their skates when the session ended and made their way up to the Rock Center Café overlooking the rink, where they had a dinner reservation thanks to Tristan. The place was sleek and lovely but informal enough to allow for their casual clothing. Best of all, they were led to a table next to the windows, allowing them to watch a new group of skaters who took the ice for the next session.
“Did you request a table with this great view?” Char asked, glancing at Tristan.
“I did. Half the fun of eating here is the show.” He nodded toward the window and chuckled at a dad and his young son who was struggling not to fall. “At least I think so. I hope you do too.”
“Of course I do. Oh dear,” she said, seeing the little boy land on his bottom. His father helped him up, brushed off his damp backside and coaxed him along.
Tristan grinned then turned his attention to the menu their waiter had just delivered. “Their steaks are decent,” he told Char. “So’s the organic chicken.”
“Thanks for the tip, but I think I’ll stick to a salad. The last time I had dinner with you I could barely zip my jeans the next day.”
“Sorry about that. Apparently I’m a dangerous date.” He was kidding, but something in his tone made her glance at him sharply.
Meeting an inscrutable half-smile, she wondered if he referred only to his penchant for stuffing her with delicious food, or if there was a hidden meaning behind his comment. The thought dwelled in her mind as they ordered dinner. While they waited for their food to be delivered, she decided to probe for more information about him.
“You told me you quit the police force because you didn’t like some things about being a cop. I’ve been wondering what those things are, if you don’t mind telling me.”
His mouth hardened and his eyebrows slammed together. Turning his head, he stared out the window at the passing skaters. “I suppose you have a right to know if we’re going to keep seeing each other.” He sent her a questioning glance, to which she merely smiled. Looking down, he said, “My partner was suspected of being in bed with a drug dealer. Internal Affairs had reason to believe he was taking payoffs for turning a blind eye to the slime ball’s crew, who were peddling crack and heroin to kids as young as eleven or twelve.”
“How awful!” Char cried, appalled.
“Yeah.” He drew a deep breath. “I.A. also suspected me of being in on the deal. They questioned me, presenting their weak case against my partner, Julius. I refused to believe it, but they talked me into wearing a wire to prove them either right or wrong. It took me a while to get close enough to Julius for him to let me in on his little game as he called the dirty operation. Finally, he let me come
along on a meet with the drug dealer. I recorded the whole thing and turned him in along with the dealer.”
“That must have been very painful for you.” She touched his hand, encountering a cloud of bitterness and resentment. Instinctively, she started to pull back but stopped. She needed to fully understand him and his buried emotions.
Nodding, he said, “But the worst was yet to come. See, when a cop turns in a fellow cop, he becomes a pariah to all the others. They saw me as a snitch, a traitor. No one talked to me or wanted to partner with me. One night a couple men trashed my car. I heard the noise and ran out in time to see them as they jumped in a car and drove off. I knew they were cops but couldn’t prove it because they wore ski masks. There were other incidents, anything to make my life miserable.” Pausing, Tristan sighed heavily.
“Even so, I stayed on the force for another year, refusing to let them drive me off. Finally, though, I had enough. It wasn’t worth staying on. Even my captain viewed me as a rat, meaning I’d never be promoted. So I turned in my shield and gun and walked away.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through all that.” Char clasped both of his hands. Despite the discomfort it caused her to touch him just then, she was glad he’d divulged the whole unhappy story. She felt his gratitude when he squeezed her hands in return.
“As I’ve said before, I always loved baking with my mom and grandmother, so I decided to put what they taught me to work. I landed a job with a caterer, helping with the baking. That went okay for a while but I really wanted to work for myself.” He grinned. “Then I met Gus, who’d also been doing some catering. He was looking to open a restaurant and needed a partner. As they say, the rest is history.”
“I’m glad you found each other,” Char said, gazing into his warm hazel eyes. She was also glad to know the man had stuck to his principles even though it cost him his career with the police.