Ballet Shoes and Engine Grease

by Tatiana March

  “Fine,” Crimson said, and made arrangements for Esmeralda and Myrna to pick her up at the office. She had failed her driving test for the second time, a source of embarrassment for her and a cause of amusement around the factory floor.

  The pair insisted on blindfolding her. Crimson tried to figure out the route as Myrna drove, the three of them abreast on the wide bench seat of her pickup truck. About two miles, Crimson reckoned. Traffic lights. Town noises. They were in Longwood, probably on Main Street, or just beyond it.

  They came to a halt. Her mother helped her down. She could smell cinnamon. They were near the bakery. A gust of cold October wind made her overalls flap. Cobblestones beneath her feet. That narrowed it to the small square at the end of Main. The two mothers prodded her along, one holding on to each arm.

  “Stand still. Don’t move,” her mother said in a stern voice, as if speaking to a child prone to hurtling blindfolded into the stream of traffic.

  The cloth covering her eyes fell away. She was in front of a store. Myralda Interiors. In the window stood a dolls’ house, surrounded with huge, blown up photographs of stately homes, interiors and exteriors.

  Myrna beamed at her. “We’ve gone into business. Antiques and interior design. We use the dolls’ houses as sample homes. We already have three commissions. We use gossip magazines to find out who is moving house or ditching their partner for a different one. New wives always like to redecorate.”

  Her mother unlocked the entrance and waved her inside. “There’s an apartment above the shop. I can live there when we have to move out of Longwood Hall in the New Year…”

  Crimson followed, only half listening to the prattle, even as pride swelled inside her at her mother’s courage and enterprise. When we have to move out of Longwood Hall. She felt her skin prickle and turned around.

  Myrna was studying her. “You do know that Longwood Hall belongs to the company?” the elegant woman said. “You’ll have to move out at the end of the year. Either the house will be sold, or Nick as the majority shareholder will have the right to live there.”

  “I know,” Crimson said. Then, blinking away the sudden, unexpected rush of tears, she went into the shop and made all the right noises. At least someone had a plan for the future. She could not bring herself to think beyond the New Year.

  ****

  It had taken Nick a week to track down his mother. What was the world coming to when a mother who had never worked a day in her life was too busy to keep tabs on her only offspring? Not that he was complaining. It just seemed strange not to have to wage a constant war to protect his privacy.

  He knocked on the door of her apartment. She released the locks and let him in. He kissed her cheek, gave her a compliment on her appearance, did the small talk.

  Then he got to the point. “How much money can you lend me?”

  “Nicholas?” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you broke?”

  Nicholas. Uh-oh. Not a good sign.

  “I’m trying to raise funds to buy Constantine Motors. Whatever the lawyer says, David Ballard is not interested in acquiring the company. It was just one of Dad’s tricks to rope me in.”

  “Oh Nicky.” His mother sighed, raised one hand to fiddle with her chignon. “I’ve been thinking about the past, about what happened between you and your father. I feel it’s my fault. I was so bitter.” Her darting gaze stilled, met his. “I hated the idea of his new family. I couldn’t stand the idea that your father loved someone else more than he’d ever loved me. I…I should have encouraged you to make up with him, but I suspect I did the opposite. In some small ways, I think plotted to keep your feud alive. Tried to keep you for myself. Tried to spite your father through you.” She blinked. A tear fell to trail down the still smooth, unwrinkled cheek. Another joined it, and the tears grew into a flood.

  Nick watched in growing alarm. The immaculate, ice-shrouded Myrna Constantine was breaking apart with emotion. “I worry that I’ve not been a good mother.” She gave a muffled sob. “I’m not…demonstrative. That’s what your father said. That I was not a warm, loving person. And now I’m terrified that you don’t know how to love, because I failed to teach you. That I didn’t show you enough love.”

  “You showed me plenty of love.” His voice was gentle. “I remember you standing in the cold and the rain on the side of a race track. Putting up with the mechanics hitting on you, the exhaust fumes making you sick, the long journeys tiring you out. I never imagined you had any interest in motor racing. I always knew you did it for me.”

  “I tried, Nicky. I tried.” She dashed away the tears.

  “And you were a great mother.” He bent his knees a little to bring their faces level. “And you know what, Mom? I think you’ve changed recently, for the better. You seem much more relaxed. I never expected to see you wearing jeans, or your hair in a ponytail, and making friends with someone like Esmeralda Mills…”

  “I…it’s crazy, but since your father died…” His mother sniffled, dug a pristine handkerchief from her pocket and patted at her nose. “It feels like for so many years I had to put up a front. Look cool and indestructible, so people couldn’t see how much your father hurt me. And now that he is dead, I don’t have to do it anymore. I can relax and let go and have some fun. That’s what’s happened to me.”

  “That’s great, Mom. It really is.”

  “Oh, Nicky.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “I’m so glad we had this talk.” Looking nervous, she twisted the handkerchief in her fingers, glanced down, then up again to meet his eyes. “Nicky….don’t let love slip by you…”

  For the first time in his adult life, Nick bundled his mother into his arms and held her close to him, rocking her in his arms. Don’t let Crimson slip by you, she was telling him, without actually saying something that could be considered as meddling. He wanted to reassure her that he had no intention of doing that, but he chose to remain silent.

  A surprise attack had a better chance to succeed.

  ****

  Today was the day. Crimson hurried around the showroom, checking details. Phone extensions to take telephone bids. Computer screens with webcams. Luck had favored them, and the weather was excellent for late November—clear and sunny, with low humidity. They had cordoned off a section of the parking lot and wheeled the vintage race cars outside, freeing up space in the showroom for the ten new Spurs to be auctioned at three p.m.

  Already, at midday, people had started to arrive. Some bustled around the cars. Some wrapped up in warm coats and scarves and went strolling around the landscaped grounds. Some bagged a corner of office space and set up their laptop, taking care of business. Some wore jeans, some business suits. Some were alone. Some with girlfriends or wives. Even a few kids tore around the building, giving Ray and Charlie a safety headache.

  Crimson darted into the cafeteria to sample the chilled champagne. Just right, with a light, fruity flavor. She clipped her fingernail against the glass, heard it ping, the sound of crystal. Her mother hurried over and pushed a tray of canapés at her. Crimson picked one with glazed shrimp topping to taste.

  “Excellent.” She devoured it in two mouthfuls.

  Behind her, the door connecting to the factory swung open. Footsteps crossed the floor. Before she had time to turn around and check who’d come in the back way, a pair of strong hands settled on her shoulders. She felt a strand of curly hair tickle her cheek and a gust of warm breath brush her neck as someone bent to whisper into her ear.

  “Did you miss me?” a deep, familiar voice murmured.

  The glass slipped from her fingers, shattering on the floor. “Shit.”

  Nick tightened his grip on her shoulders. “I guess that means you didn’t.”

  Judy bustled forward with a dustpan. “I’ll take care of that.” The staff from Longwood Hall had been recruited to help, even Soames, who was greeting people as they arrived.

  “What are you doing here?” Crimson demanded, twisting around. The words came out just right, in a bored, angr
y tone. The canapé that had stuck in her throat helped with that.

  Nick let his arms drop down to his sides. “I came to ask you something.”

  “Of course you did.” Crimson glared at him. “The answer is no.”

  Even as she said it, her heart was going like an overheated engine. He smelled so good, a faint scent of some woodsy cologne, mixed with the crisp outdoor air he’d brought in with him. His hair was windblown, and around his mouth she noticed tired lines that had not been there before. Perhaps he was sleeping as badly as she was.

  “You answered the wrong question.” Nick wrapped one arm around her waist, riveting her to his side, like guard in charge of a prisoner. Not offering her any explanation, he marched her out, through the double doors, into the lobby between the cafeteria and the factory.

  On the other side of the second set of double doors, they could hear Hank conducting a tour in the factory. Crimson watched Nick, saw his eyes dart about as he surveyed the space, seeking somewhere private. His gaze homed in on the pair of restroom doors. With so few women mechanics, both facilities were unisex. With hurried, impatient gestures, he pulled one of the doors open and bundled her inside.

  She came to rest against the vanity, her hands braced on the edge of the countertop. Keeping her back turned, refusing to look at him, even refusing to look at his reflection in the mirror, she spoke tartly. “I don’t have time for this, Nick. Not today.”

  “Yes,” he replied. “Today. Because by tonight we’ll know.”

  Crimson didn’t reply. She knew what he meant. Tonight, when the auction ended, they would know if she had been able to secure the company for him. If she had succeeded beyond all expectations. If she could face him as an equal. Or, if the only options left for her were to walk away from him in failure, or to marry him, and then, for the rest of her life, she would have to wonder if he cared for her at all, or if she’d just been a means to an end.

  Nick tugged at her long ponytail. “Turn around and look at me.”

  “No,” Crimson told him.

  “Then we’ll do it this way.” He wrapped his body around hers, his arms braced outside hers, caging her in. She was dressed in a green and yellow sweatshirt and pants, a new design that all the staff members wore today. The colors helped the clients to spot them easily in the crowd, and the loose fit made it easy to climb in and out of the cars and push them around the showroom floor as they demonstrated the items for the auction.

  “Will you live with me at Longwood Hall?” he asked.

  “I’m not marrying you.”

  “I didn’t ask. All I’m offering right now is living in sin.”

  Startled, Crimson glanced up. “Are you planning to buy the house?”

  In the mirror, she could see their combined reflections. Nick curled like a protective shield behind her, his dark head bent, his lips almost grazing her cheek. Just like when he’d first grabbed her in the cafeteria a moment ago, she felt the warm whisper of his breath on her skin. A tingle rushed down the nape of her neck, making a shiver run through her.

  Nick caught her eyes in the mirror. “I’m buying Constantine Motors,” he informed her, with a hint of arrogance. “Why do you think I’ve left you alone for six weeks? I’ve spent all my time with bankers, venture capitalists, private investors. It’s not an easy task, raising a hundred and fifty million at a short notice.”

  “But David Ballard…”

  “Not interested. One of my father’s little jokes. A way to yank my strings.” He dipped his head again, kissed her temple, trailed his lips down toward her ear, and then he traced the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue. The light, playful touch of his mouth sent pleasure radiating all over her.

  “Can’t we wait…to talk…after the auction...?” She tried to put determination in her voice but the words came out husky, already half relenting.

  He was kissing her neck now. Hungry, biting kisses that made something tighten low in her belly. He’d leave marks on her skin, she knew for certain, and deep down, in some hidden part of her mind, the thought of being dominated, of being branded by his superior male strength gave her a secret thrill.

  “No,” Nick told her. “I want to talk now.” He lifted one hand from the countertop, slipped it inside her sweatshirt. Tugging her bra aside, he cupped her breast in his palm. “I want you, Crimson.” His voice was low and rough, his tone earnest. “And you want me too. You can’t hide it.”

  Hide it? Crimson almost groaned out loud at the idea. With her body trembling against his and her nipples pebbling beneath his touch? With heat sizzling between them so fiercely that she half expected to see the mirror steam up. Before she could think of anything to say, she felt the pressure of Nick’s body against hers ease as he backed away.

  Instinct made her follow, seeking to retain the solid contact.

  “It’s okay, Crimsy,” he told her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She looked up at the mirror again. In her reflection, she could see the signs of arousal, revealed with a startling clarity in the bright light. Her face was flushed, her lips parted, her eyes dark, the brown merely a rim around the dilated pupil.

  Nick bent his head, and she could no longer see his face in the mirror, only the tousled black curls. She waited for him to look up, so she could make out his expression, gauge his mood. What was he doing? Another groan rose in her chest, this time broke out in a strangled sound as she realized he was unbuttoning the flies of his dinner suit.

  Then, she felt his hands at the waist of her sweatpants. Gently, he stroked her skin, reaching lower with each sweep of his fingers, at the same time inching down the thick cotton fabric and the silk and lace panties beneath. When he had her bared, far enough to suit his purpose, he halted his ministrations, leaving the elastic waistband bunched around her thighs, holding up the garments.

  She’d never felt so vulnerable, so exposed, the air cool against her buttocks, the half lowered clothing restricting her movements. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again and searched for reassurance in the mirror. Nick’s face was taut, his jaw clenched. She couldn’t see much of the rest of him, her body blocked her view of his, but she could tell from the way he had adjusted his position, from the way he reached down with one hand, what he was about to do.

  “You can’t…” she whispered.

  “You want to ignore me, but your body won’t let you. It knows we’re good together.” He pressed his palm against her back. “Bend forward a little.”

  Bracing her arms wider, she leaned over the vanity, as if obeying him was the most natural thing in the world to do. An instant later, she felt it. The thick length of his erect shaft as it rubbed between her legs, spreading moisture. Thrumming with anticipation, her body tightened. Sensations rippled over her, heat and lust, and a foolish disregard of every ounce of caution she possessed.

  She shivered as she felt the broad tip nudge into her.

  Nick stilled. “If you want it,” he said. “You’ve got to take it.”

  She fought herself, fought the temptation, but she couldn’t stop her back from arching, couldn’t stop her hips from making tiny movements that eased him deeper into her. She was aware of nothing but where their bodies were joined, the heat pulsing between them.

  “I’m not wearing a condom,” Nick said.

  “What?” she gasped.

  Leaning over her, he touched his fingertips to her cheek in a comforting gesture. “I’m willing to take that chance with you. The biggest chance there is. Are you willing to take a chance with me, Crimson?”

  No, she wanted to tell him, but her body betrayed her. Her hips slammed back, burying him deep inside her. She felt his hands curl around her waist, holding her, guiding her as she rocked back and forth, filling herself with his masculine power, reaching for her own completion without restraint, ignoring the risk they were taking.

  Inside the thick cotton clothing her body grew damp. Her legs trembled, barely supporting her weight. At some point,
Nick took over, driving into her with a ferocity that had her palms sliding against the countertop. Her ponytail spilled over her shoulder and swung like a pendulum, in time with his thrusts.

  Then, finally, it was upon her, the spinning sensation that turned the whirlpool of dark desire into a climax that swept her away, made her convulse in rhythmic waves that rocked her against the vanity. Behind her, Nick gripped her hips tight. She could feel him go rigid, muscles taut, spine arched. Lifting her lashes, she looked at him in the mirror, saw him throw his head back, his jaws clenched in the throes of passion.

  Thud, thud, thud. Loud. So loud. Crimson could feel her heart pounding away in the confines of her ribcage, could hear her pulse hammering in her ears. So loud. Too loud. Damn, damn, damn. Someone was banging on the door.

  She felt Nick pull out of her, heard him snarl out an impatient curse. Hysterical laughter bubbled up in her throat. Full circle. That’s what they’d done. For surely, the intimate act they had just committed was an almost exact repeat of their first encounter in the boardroom, right down to the interruption at the end.

  “Crimson, are you there?” It was her mother calling.

  “Yeah, Mom,” she managed to reply. “I’ll be out in a sec.”

  “Do you have your inhaler?”

  Nick was rolling his eyes. Crimson smothered a giggle. Did her mother know what they’d been up to? Was Esmeralda saying you need to take care when you have torrid sex in a toilet, or was she just generally worried about her choking up with the stress of the auction?

  “Yes, Mom,” she called out. “I’ve got it in my pocket.”

  “Don’t be too long. Some big spender from Singapore has just arrived.”

  “Okay, Mom.”

  Retreating footsteps, then silence. Crimson released a sigh. Beside her, Nick was adjusting his clothing.

  “Go,” she told him. “I need to tidy up.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Not here,” she pleaded. “Not now. The factory tour will be over in a minute and there’ll be a line to use the restrooms. Please...” She took a deep breath. Yes, they needed to talk, if about nothing else, then at least about their second stupid array into the territory of I-might-be-pregnant, but she didn’t want to plunge into an uncomfortable negotiation over their future with the worry of the auction pressing down on her.