Stranger in My Arms

by Madeline Harper

  * * *

  BY FIVE-FIFTEEN, Walk-by-Windows was ready for business. Kasey did her final survey of the dining room with its floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on a bustling New York street scene. Green and white awnings fluttered in the faint afternoon breeze, and Kasey nodded with satisfaction. All ready—with fifteen minutes to go.

  Everything seemed cool and serene. Despite the frantic activity behind the scenes, Walk-by-Windows ran like clockwork. And in her new position, that’s exactly the way Kasey wanted it to remain. So far today, she’d handled the usual problems, plus one—Carl Dandridge.

  Judy Fiore waved to her from the bar. “Do we have time?”

  “Yep,” Kasey called out as she headed toward her friend. “The first reservation isn’t until six. The big rush begins at eight with the engagement party, and then it’s nonstop. Let’s have our ice tea.” She nodded to the bartender.

  Mack, who ran his domain with an iron hand, poured the tea into tall, ice-filled glasses, topped them with slices of lemon and sent the two women toward their special corner table. There, checking to see that no one was watching, they indulged in their nightly ritual, glass clinking against glass.

  “Here’s to Kasey Halliday, the best damned assistant manager—currently acting as manager—of the best damned restaurant in New York. Is that superlative or not?”

  “Possibly a little exaggerated, but I’ll drink to it,” Kasey said, clinking her glass again. “and to Judith Ann Fiore, the best service staff supervisor in the entire United States. No, the whole Western Hemisphere.”

  “No exaggeration there,” Judy said as she took a big gulp of tea. “And it’s certainly true today. Every service person present and accounted for, every table assigned.” She leaned forward. “Now for the problem. I saw Carl slinking out the door but I never saw him slinking in, which bothers me. When did he get in, how did he get in and what did he want?”

  “I don’t know the answer to the first two questions, unfortunately. But I’m going to review security, believe me. As for what he wanted—his job back.”

  “That’ll be the day.”

  “He thinks you and I conspired to get him fired.”

  Judy let out a snort and then looked around quickly. “Sorry! Sometimes I forget I work in such a classy place. But give me a break! Everyone but Fred Tomlinson knew Carl was taking kickbacks from half our suppliers.”

  “And padding the accounts of the others.”

  “And harassing the female staff, including me. It’s a miracle he lasted as long as he did. Fred was pretty dim about the situation. She paused and gave Kasey a meaningful look. “No, not dim, just preoccupied with schmoozing with customers.”

  Kasey laughed. “But he finally caught on. And Carl’s not too happy about it.”

  Her dark eyes bright with concern, Judy studied Kasey’s face. “You’re worried about Carl, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe. A little,” she confessed.

  “Well, you should be. He’s a sneaky devil. I’d watch my back.”

  “I will, but Carl’s a bully, pure and simple. I doubt if he’ll show up here again, especially since I threatened to call the police. He knows I would have done it. We’ve seen the last of him.”

  “Don’t be too sure,” Judy said.

  “Carl’s all talk and no action, Judy. Trust me. I know the man.”

  Judy rolled her eyes. “Pu-leez, Kasey, I’m your buddy, remember?”

  The two women grinned at each other. They’d been friends since the day they both started as waitresses two years ago at Walk-by-Windows. As other employees came and went, they stayed on and earned their promotions.

  “And as your buddy,” Judy continued, “I know you’re not a great judge of male character.”

  “Don’t start with me,” Kasey warned.

  Judy ignored her. “Let’s see. There was Jean-Paul, the former sous-chef, incredibly handsome, I’ll admit...”

  “I thought he wanted to be friends and improve his English,” Kasey said. “How was I supposed to know he wanted to marry me for a green card?”

  “The guy you met cycling...”

  “Great legs,” Kasey said, finishing her ice tea. “But unfortunately, terminally unemployed.”

  “And Mr. Wonderful, the actor you followed to New York.”

  “Back in Springfield now, happily selling appliances. Things worked out for the best. And none of those relationships was serious, Judy. I learned from them, and they certainly didn’t turn me off to men.”

  Judy regarded her friend thoughtfully for a moment. “You know your problem, Kasey?”

  Kasey groaned. “If I don’t, I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

  “You’re too damned friendly.”

  “And I intend to stay that way. I won’t live my life being afraid to reach out to people. That’s not me.”

  “Friendly is okay—within reason—but sometimes you push friendliness into impulsiveness.”

  “I use good judgment. Usually.” Kasey grinned at her friend. “Sometimes.”

  Judy frowned and pursed her lips. “You have to remember, Dorothy, you’re not in Kansas anymore.”

  “I’m not Dorothy, and this certainly isn’t Oz. Besides, I’m from Missouri, not Kansas,” Kasey reminded her.

  “Whatever. To a native New Yorker, anything west of the Hudson River is confusing,” Judy said airily. “You’re too trusting, and sometimes—”

  Laughter danced in Kasey’s eyes as she interrupted. “Then I guess you don’t want to hear about the man I met in the elevator.”

  “At Bartow Horror?”

  “Where else?”

  “Tell me every word. And it better be good.”

  * * *

  BEFORE RELATING the elevator saga, Kasey checked out the restaurant one more time with Judy in tow. “Do you think the color scheme is too much?” she asked her friend.

  “Dark green tablecloths with a touch of pink in the candles and flowers? That’s a change you talked Fred into, Kasey. What’s your problem?”

  “I don’t know. It’s clean, uncluttered, sophisticated. But it’s also very trendy. Maybe too much so.”

  “Trends are good. Shows you’re on top of things. Now, about the guy in the elevator?”

  “I’m going for paper white narcissus next week, instead of pink baby carnations,” Kasey decided.

  “Fine. It’ll be another nice change. Now, about the guy. You brought him up, Kasey. So forget the flowers and tell all.”

  “Flowers are real.”

  “And the guy isn’t?”

  “I don’t know,” Kasey said. “Maybe he’s a fantasy.”

  “You dreamed him up?” Judy asked as she led Kasey back to their table.

  “No, he was there—on the elevator—and he was...” She searched for the right word. “Gorgeous,” she finally proclaimed.

  “So what’s the problem?” Judy asked.

  “He was also sort of...”

  “What, Kasey?”

  “Mysterious. Brooding. Sexy. Maybe even a little dangerous-looking.” She shot Judy an anticipatory look.

  “Oh, great,” Judy groaned. “Just the kind of guy you need in New York City. What do you mean ‘dangerous’?”

  “Well, he was wearing dark glasses in the elevator—”

  “Uh-oh,” Judy interrupted. “On the run from the law. Yeah, I can see how he’d be dangerous.”

  “He wasn’t like that. He was more—aloof. He had a real attitude about him. I kept thinking of—” She broke off.

  “You’re making me crazy. Tell, tell. What were you thinking?”

  Kasey’s voice took on a dreamy edge. “Hmm, well, he reminded me of a big jungle cat. Like a panther. Caged against his will. And he had the greatest eyes, golden, kind of.”

  Judy put her hand on Kasey’s forehead. “Yep, you’re feverish.”

  Kasey laughed. “Okay, I’m fantasizing like crazy, but he was drop-dead gorgeous and had a great body. Tall and lean but well-built. When he p
icked me up—”

  “Picked you up?”

  “When the elevator stopped, I kind of fell into him, and he disentangled me.”

  “Hmm,” Judy said thoughtfully. “This could have possibilities. What does he do?”

  “I don’t know,” Kasey admitted.

  “Where’s he from?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Well, what do you know about him?”

  Kasey was beginning to feel defensive. “I know his name. Will Eastman. I know where he lives. On my floor, next door to me, in fact. He’s subletting.”

  Judy sighed deeply. “A mysterious stranger who’s moved in next door. This is beginning to sound less like a fantasy and more like a mistake, Kasey.”

  “No, I—”

  “Kasey, did you tell him about yourself, where you work, that you live alone—”

  “No. Not exactly,” Kasey defended. “I might have mentioned Walk-by-Windows, but I was very circumspect. Despite what you think, I don’t go around giving out my life history to strangers.” Then her voice lost its defensiveness, and she grinned impishly. “Even to romantic strangers with great-looking clothes and expensive haircuts.”

  “Promise me one thing,” Judy demanded. “Before you go out with him, learn the facts. A woman can’t—”

  “Be too careful,” Kasey finished for her. “Yeah, I know. But don’t worry. I’m not going out with him. In fact, I’ll probably never get a chance to talk with him again—unless we get stuck in the elevator.”

  Judy laughed. “At Bartow Horror, there’s always a chance of that.”

  “He was just a little afternoon adventure,” Kasey said thoughtfully. “Something to liven up the day.”

  “And that something lives next door to you, so be careful.”

  Kasey pushed back her chair and stood up. “Judy Fiore, you’re the most suspicious person I’ve ever met.”

  “I’m from New York. It goes with the territory.”

  “First, you try to frighten me with warnings about Carl sneaking up on me, and now you tell me to watch out for a guy I’ve only seen once. Carl’s not going to be a problem. And my adventure with Will Eastman is over, done...forgotten.”

  “Except in your overactive imagination.”

  “A little fantasy never hurt anyone,” Kasey protested.

  “As long as it stays a fantasy.”

  “I know the difference,” Kasey said adamantly. “I really do.”

  * * *

  WILL COULDN’T GET the woman on the elevator out of his head. He’d been tempted to ask the building superintendent about her, or maybe talk to the doorman—the nosy one, Tim, who thought he knew everything.

  But it wouldn’t be a smart move to make himself conspicuous by asking questions about another tenant. It could be foolish. And maybe dangerous.

  Will knew he should put her out of his mind. Problem was, he couldn’t. And thinking about her made him restless and edgy, eager to escape his high-rise prison. He glanced through the balcony doors at the twilight sky. There was still an hour until nightfall. He settled down to wait.

  2

  THE DAY WAS HOT and muggy. It wasn’t the best time to be wrestling with a box of winter clothes, Kasey realized. But the tiny closet in her bedroom was filled to capacity, and it was time to move out the stuff she hadn’t worn in a couple of years. That meant storage. In the Bartow Tower subbasement.

  She pushed the big box of clothes into the hall and almost ran over her neighbor, Glenna Ivy.

  “Whoops.” Glenna dodged the box. “Just the person I want to see. I need a favor.”

  Kasey laughed. “After almost running you down, I guess I owe you one. So, yes, I’ll feed Lo Mein this weekend.”

  “How did you know?”

  “I’m psychic.” Kasey put her fingers to her forehead, closed her eyes and pretended to go into a trance. “You’re wearing shorts, a T-shirt and baseball cap,” she intoned dramatically. “You have a duffel bag over your shoulder, it’s Friday—and you own a share in a house at the shore.” Kasey opened her eyes. “However, Lo doesn’t like sand, much less saltwater.”

  “Is it too much trouble? I can ask Tim—”

  “Please, keep Tim out of this. He’s nosy enough, as it is. And it’s no trouble for me to feed the cat. I still have your extra key from last time.”

  “A million thanks, Kasey. His food is on the kitchen counter, and his litter is in the bathroom.”

  “I know the routine. And Lo Mein and I are friends—kind of.”

  “I’ll be back on Sunday,” the tall, leggy brunette promised.

  “Have fun.”

  Glenna was on the way to the elevator, when Kasey beckoned to her. Curiosity, as usual, had gotten the best of Kasey, and she wanted Glenna’s input. Since they were close in age, the two women often shared stories of their love lives—or lack of them. Glenna possessed a wry sense of humor about her experiences in the “dating wars,” as she called her social life.

  Kasey lowered her voice. “Have you seen the new guy in 1905?”

  “Nope, haven’t seen a soul. Did Jim rent out his place?”

  “It’s a sublet deal through an agent. Name’s Will Eastman.”

  “Attractive?” Glenna, too, spoke in a near whisper. “More important, eligible?”

  “Yes to attractive, and as for eligible...” She shrugged. “He’s living there alone, I think. But he’s also very mysterious. I’ve only seen him once—in the elevator. Tim says he moved in at night.”

  Glenna’s brown eyes danced. “Maybe he can’t take the sun.” She seemed to warm up to that thought. “Or maybe he’s a vampire!”

  Kasey laughed. “Or he could just want his privacy. He’s certainly not what you’d call friendly.”

  “But in the looks department, a number—”

  “Ten, definitely.”

  “Well, if anyone can find out about him, you can. You’re the nineteenth floor’s unofficial housemother. Keep me posted. Hey, there’s the elevator. Got to run! Thanks again.”

  Kasey stacked a few more items on top of the box, including an old quilt that had belonged to her grandmother, and a pair of ski boots. As she double-locked her apartment door, she thought about Glenna’s remark. Was she really the floor’s housemother? And if so, should she take that as a compliment? It was second nature for her to be outgoing and generous, offering to help with pet and plant-sitting, picking up mail or running occasional errands when a neighbor was ill.

  In the small town where she grew up, Kasey knew almost everyone in her neighborhood. Maybe she was foolish to try to re-create that same feeling on the nineteenth floor of a Manhattan apartment building. But she couldn’t help it; friendliness was part of Kasey’s personality, whether Manhattan liked it or not.

  After pushing her load across the hall, she hit the button for elevator number one, which hadn’t broken down in at least a month. It was the odds-on favorite to get her safely down to Bartow Tower’s storage room.

  * * *

  THE BUILDING WAS less than two years old, but the subbasement might have belonged to another era. Probably because there wasn’t a glimmer of natural light, only the dim illumination given off by bulbs suspended from the ceiling, casting eerie flickering shadows on the gray concrete walls.

  “Trust the management,” Kasey muttered to herself, “to save on the electric bill with forty-watt bulbs.” The storage area was at the end of a narrow hall that was confining and dismal. It made her think of the dank passage deep inside a pyramid, where, of course, she’d never been, but she’d read enough mysteries to make the connection.

  Heavy steel-plated gates enclosed the area. Kasey punched the computer code into a console, swung the gate open, shoved her box inside but didn’t close the gate all the way. It was supposed to open automatically from the inside, but she had learned not to trust anything computerized at Bartow Tower.

  Pushing the box ahead of her, Kasey made her way to the space assigned to the nineteenth floor and turned the
key in the lock for cubicle 1903. Before opening the door, she looked around the storage area, searching the shadows that hugged every corner.

  Kasey shivered. She was jumpier than usual, and she knew why. During a crazy couple of days, she’d been threatened by a disgruntled employee, confounded by a stranger in an elevator and warned about both men—and her own naïveté—by her closest friend. These incidents, combined with the gloom and isolation of the basement, were getting to her, generating uncomfortable questions. Could Carl have tracked her home to Bartow Tower? Could the stranger on the elevator somehow be a threat? She’d certainly told him enough to make herself vulnerable.

  “You’re fantasizing again, Kasey,” she lectured herself. “Get the damned junk stored and get out of here.” She pushed past her bike, promising herself to bring it out again when the weather cooled, moved a pile of books and began to put her belongings on a shelf.

  But she was still spooked. She took a deep breath, hearing Judy’s warning reverberating in her mind. A woman can’t be too careful. Well, she’d left the heavy gate to the hall open in case she needed to get out of the area in a hurry. There was nothing more she could do. And she was damned if she would get paranoid about a disgruntled employee who had bullied her and a mysterious man who had moved into her building. She hung the boots by their laces on a hook and put up the plastic-wrapped quilt.

  Then she heard it.

  A noise. It wasn’t her imagination. And it wasn’t one of the everyday noises she normally heard in the building. Footsteps. They didn’t sound brisk and forthright but soft and furtive. And they were creeping toward her. Kasey fought a moment of blind panic—and lost. She pulled the door of her unit shut, pressed her back against the side and tried to disappear in the darkness.

  What if it was Carl? Maybe she’d been wrong about his being nothing but a bully. Maybe her threat to call the police had enraged him even more. What if he’d got past the doorman, an easy-enough feat if Tim had been gossiping with a tenant or flagging down a cab. What if Carl had followed her into the basement—

  Kasey’s heart was beating fiercely, and she could hear the rush of blood in her ears as the steps kept coming closer and closer. Then they stopped, right in front of her door. She held her breath and listened to the sound of keys rattling. Whoever it was, he’d never get in here; she had the only key. Her fingers closed tightly around it, and she tried not to make a sound. She could hear breathing, not hers, but the other person’s. The person who was standing outside, waiting, listening.