by Mary Blayney
He held the glass out of her reach and then taste tested it before handing it back to her.
“So what story were you spinning for them just now?”
“Oh, I told them about how while I was working as a hostess at a Michelin two–star restaurant the sous chef cut off his finger with a knife.”
Steve shook his head. She was creative; he’d give her that.
“They were telling tales of work place disasters and I couldn’t resist sharing.”
“You made it up.” It was not a question. “Is that any way to get your colleagues to trust you?”
“Eventually they’ll figure it out. It’s a challenge to see how long it takes them.”
“A challenge?”
Kendall shrugged.
“If you ever do it to me again, I’ll spank you.”
“Ooooh, I can’t wait.”
Said like the tease she was.
“You almost finished telling lies here?”
“Why?”
“How about dinner? Someplace where the chef has all his fingers.”
“It was the sous chef and they were able to reattach it.”
“Thank God you like happy endings.” He took her glass, set it on the conference table, and nudged her toward the door.
“Wait, wait, I have to say goodbye to Maddie and thank Mike. I’ll be quick.” Without waiting for acknowledgement from him, she dashed off. Despite her promise to be quick, it was another twenty before they were heading to the elevator. Or maybe twenty minutes was just her idea of quick.
Good thing waiting was what he did best.
Chapter Seven
It looked like rain, and one thing Steve new about New York was that even the hint of rain made taxis hard to find. He pulled out his phone to call a car service
“Where do you want to eat?” Kendall asked.
“I know a place in your neighborhood. Let’s go there.” The rain began as two or three drops, but the roiling black clouds promised that it would soon come down heavier and harder.
“Hey, we don’t need a car and driver,” Kendall said. “Let’s live like New Yorkers and take the Subway. The N/R station is right here.”
It had been at least six months since he’d taken the train. It ate up too much time, and he could afford the convenience of a car service. Still, she had a point.
They squeezed onto a well–timed train that was headed across the river. They didn’t chat, but both of them watched the crowd. For completely different reasons, he suspected.
After the next stop, Kendall took off the jacket she was wearing, one that made a suit out of the skirt and blouse, and turned it inside out before putting it back on. She took off her earrings and the giant faux ruby ring she had been wearing, stuffing them into the designer backpack that served as her handbag.
Pulling out a makeup kit, she did a few things with a brush. When she was finished, she looked older and not nearly as fresh and young. She pulled a small, heavy pouch out of her bag and then shoved her backpack at him. Steve grabbed it in a reflexive gesture.
“Pretend you don’t know me,” she whispered.
Shit. He had a feeling he’d be okay with that directive after whatever she was about to pull.
She moved away from him. The next stop was a major transfer point and at least half of the car’s population changed. Most of these folks were headed to Brooklyn, and they just looked tired and relieved to be going home.
As soon as the doors closed, Kendall moved to the center of the car.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention for a moment?”
Most of the occupants did little more than glance at her, some not even that, but she was not deterred.
“I’ve ridden this train for years. There were times when it was the only place I could call home. In those days, the riders of the N/R supported me with food and money and even a Bible. But now my life has changed. I am fully recovered from the monster of addiction that held me captive for so long. I have work and a place to live. So to thank you all, I would like to give you a token of my appreciation.”
By this time she had the attention of about half her fellow riders. The train was beginning to slow for the next station and as it did, she moved through the car, handing coins to anyone who would look at her. “Thank you and God bless you.”
A couple of people tried to refuse her largesse, but she insisted they pay it forward to someone who else who needed it.
Finally it was his turn, and she pressed what turned out to be a quarter into his hand with the familiar refrain, “Thank you and God bless you.” When the train stopped at the next station, she went to the door and offered a second quarter to anyone who would take one. Only two did.
With a satisfied sigh, she found a seat and laid her head back against the window as though she needed a nap, a smile brightening her face even in repose. Steve watched her and watched the rest of the travelers watch her too. The next stop was theirs and he moved to the door, checking to make sure she was coming.
Once they were out on the platform, she shucked her jacket and turned it right side out, smoothed her hair, and pulled a wipe from her purse, proceeding to remove the makeup that had so distorted her appearance.
By the time they reached the top of the escalator, she had reclaimed her backpack and was wearing sunglasses. Not a single one of the people she had spoken to on the train would recognize her now. Out on the sidewalk she took his arm. “That was fun. How do you think it went?”
“Great…if you like playing tricks on people.”
“Oh come on. It was a little bit of performance art.”
She obviously refused to take offense. “I’ve done it twice before, and this group was the most receptive. The people on the east side trains are not the slightest bit interested in quarters. One guy said to me, “I don’t do change.” She let go of his arm and turned to face him, walking backward. “Made me wonder why he was riding on the subway if he was so rich.
“And the 1/2/3 headed north? Now they are receptive, maybe a little two receptive. I had two guys proposition me.”
“I swear you survive by dumb luck.”
“I’m not completely without defensive skills. I have a brown belt in Karate.”
“That’s a claim I can put to the test. I have a black belt. Remind me later.”
“Are you afraid I’ll show you up if we do it right here on the street?”
“No, but I’m hungry and we’ve reached the restaurant.”
He was greeted like the good customer he was, and within minutes they were seated at a quiet table out of the main traffic pattern. Perfect for a get–to–know–you dinner with the hopes of a very personal dessert later.
#
“Wow, this is the kind of place I like best, and it’s only a few blocks from my apartment. How come I never heard of it before?” Kendall unwrapped a bread stick and bit off the end as she looked around. It was Thursday, way early by New York standards, and the place was about half full, with a mix of old and young and a few blessedly well–behaved children.
“There are dozens of restaurants in Brooklyn Heights, and we all tend to gravitate to our tried and true.”
She made a face. “I always thought I was more adventurous than that.”
“They do have black ink pasta here,” he said.
“Love it!”
Even though they hadn’t even looked at a menu yet, a waiter approached with two glasses, a bottle of red wine, and a plate of antipasto that could be a meal in itself.
Kendall sipped the wine and relaxed. She hadn’t even realized how tense her shoulders had been. Weird. Exactly what was she so nervous about? Oh yeah, she thought as Steve O’Hara grinned. Decision time was approaching.
Would having sex with Steve be stupid or completely right? She took another sip of wine. Maybe both. “So I am betting this place is family owned and that you’re like a son to them.”
“I went to college with Tonio’s son,” Steve said as he nodded.
“Chaz resisted the calling of Primo’s for a while, but they got him in the end.”
Kendall tasted the eggplant caponata and closed her eyes, savoring the explosion of flavor. “Oh good God, did he make this?”
“Everything they serve here is made on the premises.”
She took another bite and added a bit of mozzarella to the mix.
“I hope you didn’t have something specific in mind to order. When Chaz is here I can’t escape the royal treatment.”
“Is that a complaint?”
It was a leisurely and very seductive meal. Up to and including the raspberry soufflé presented to them for dessert. It was accompanied by a handmade dark chocolate truffle, because, as Chaz told them when he came out to sit with them for a minute, “No meal is complete without chocolate.”
Conversation was as free flowing as the wine they shared. Kendall found herself telling him about how she’d decided to be an actress.
“I was eight when I was in my first school play. Everyone else was scared and sick to their stomachs, but all I wanted was to be on stage making people happy. It never occurred to me that you could make a living acting until I was twelve. I talked my way into a commercial for a local ice cream shop.”
She ate the last of her half order of simple but perfect chicken Milanese, happy that she’d only had a taste or two of the pasta alfredo that had preceded it. “That was it. I pretty much paid for college doing commercials and a local PBS kids show that was pretty successful. How did you meet Chaz, anyway?”
“On the soccer field. At Columbia. They had an NCAA division one soccer team, and we both had scholarships. Chaz was a decent goalie, but he knew he wasn’t good enough to go pro. I loved soccer. I got into it because it was one thing I actually did better than my big brother, but then I discovered that I loved the game for its own sake. I played for as long as I could. Two really mediocre years on a US pro team and lucky to have had that. There are dozens of division one teams and hundreds of really good forwards.” He made a face as if he’d had the greatest luck in the world.
“How did you get into security work after that?”
“I joined the army and was sent into special forces. After doing my time, I realized I would rather protect people than kill them.”
He left it at that. Kendall could respect his stance completely, even though she thought there was a story there worth hearing.
After a while, he asked her about her little sister.
“She has a condition called cardiomyopathy,” Kendall said, “which came along after she had a really bad case of the flu. We were so lucky to have a doctor who figured out what was happening before it was too late. She’s been on the list for almost six months. Now it’s just a waiting game.” She smiled. “Something like the autograph picture and the note Mike sent really help. She’s already planning her trip to New York after her heart surgery. I think it’s the first time she’s allowed herself that dream.” She reached out and touched his hand. “Thanks.
They sat there watching each other for a moment, each sharing unvoiced pain. Kendall marveled at the truth that no one got through life without some kind of heartache.
The solemn mood was erased by the arrival of the soufflé, chocolate, and some Prosecco. The perfect end to the perfect meal.
By the time they left Primo, the place was jammed with diners, now all grown ups, sharing lots of laughter along with their wine and food.
It was almost dark, and the streets crowded as they made their way to Kendall’s apartment. Just because she had invited him home for coffee didn’t mean they would end the night in bed, Kendall told herself. But it sure seemed like they were headed in that direction. They were so engrossed in each other that they ran into one guy and almost tripped over the leash of another man who was walking his dog.
By the time they reached Remson, the streets were quieter and they were walking hand in hand. As if by silent agreement, they stopped near the tree where she had first seen him.
Kendall was about to say something silly when Steve angled her against the tree and pressed his mouth to hers.
There was nothing silly about his kiss and she lost herself in the pleasure of it, her mind and imagination filled with heady thoughts about what could come next. When they stopped, both of them out of breath, she buried her face in his neck and pressed kisses to the pulse she could feel there.
“You scare me, Kendall Marshall.”
“Me? You know I was only joking about the brown belt, right?”
“Oh yeah, I wish it were that simple.” He tucked his arm around her shoulder and pulled her toward the brownstone, which was only a few yards away.
“You are mind blowing. There will be nothing casual about sex with you.”
Kendall looked down and pressed her lips together, trying not to smile. Good, she’d never been into one night stands. Besides, only a fool would think one bout of sex could satisfy the longing that was holding them both in thrall.
“Good, because I feel the same way.” She stopped and turned to face him. “I might have pretended you didn’t appeal to me the day we met, but it was the worst bit of acting of my life.”
He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “So exactly how far are you willing to go with role playing?”
“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”
“I’m thinking you could – ”
Kendall pressed her fingers to his lips. “Let’s see how you and I do first. You and I being as real as we can be.”
If her smile was as goofy as his, then they were definitely headed in the right direction.
#
They reached the brownstone in record time and headed for Kendall’s apartment. She dashed upstairs to turn off the alarm and check the house while he waited in her studio. He was impressed with the way Kendall had taken the space and made it her own. Bright colors and fabulous old movie posters graced the walls. A perfect fit for her personality.
The sleeping space was separated from the living area by a stationary divider that was more honorary than anything. It was like a floor to ceiling paned window without glass set in it. The queen size bed was fitted with white sheets and black pillowcases. It would have looked just as inviting if the sheets had been pink.
She appeared down the hall from the back staircase, bearing a decanter and two brandy snifters. She set them on the counter separating the small kitchen from the seating area and took her phone out of her jacket pocket. As she did, a piece of paper tumbled out with it.
She picked it up and smoothed it out, then froze.
“What?” Steve said. Without replying, she handed it to him.
It was the now familiar white paper with a large font message all in caps: TELL STEVE O’HARA THIS COULD HAVE BEEN A KNIFE.
They looked at each other, no longer caught up in the haze of lust. She looked confused and a little frightened. He knew he had to look like he felt: pissed as hell.
“You were the target! Not Mike,” Kendall said.
Chapter Eight
Or you could be, Kendall.”
“No way.”
“You were present at all three events. And he’s given you two of the notes.”
“Both of which were addressed to you,” she said. She narrowed her eyes. “Jeez, you know the guy who bumped into us outside of Primo.” Kendall nodded slowly. “I remember him. Well, I remember his ball cap. No sunglasses this time. He could have been the same guy who handed me that note for you at the studio.”
“No surprise there.”
“I was a little tipsy. It didn’t occur to me at the time.”
“Yeah, well, he’s done a damn good job of blending in.”
“Now I really do need some brandy,” Kendall said, gesturing to the glasses. “How about you?”
“Discussing a stalker over brandy is not the way I wanted to end our evening, but I don’t want there to be any distractions when we’re finally together.”
He accepted the glass, and they sat across from e
ach other in the tiny seating area. “So, who have you annoyed lately, Kendall? Maybe some romantic fling gone wrong.”
Kendall shook her head. “I haven’t even dated anyone for six months.”
“No guys in the last six months?” he asked, astounded.
“Well no, but there were these three girls I did a shoot with, and the four of us got it on big time.”
He looked shocked for a moment and then swore. “Shit, this is no time to be making things up, Kendall. This is a serious problem.”
“I still think this is all about you, Steve.” Kendall put her snifter on the tray table between them and leaned forward. “That first time. The cherry bombs?” She paused. “That was the first time, wasn’t it?”
He nodded and she went on.
“I would never have gone to investigate that noise. I would have just written it off as some kids fooling around. Even if I’d thought it was something more serious like gunfire, I would never have gone looking. I would have just called the police.”
“And then they would have found the note.”
“Yes, but me doing that was too iffy. YOU checking on it was a sure thing. Protecting your brother is your job.”
He nodded.
“And I was inside with Maddie when the guy broke the studio window, not anywhere near the incident. You, on the other hand, were coming through the door.”
“I see your point.”
“He probably gave me the note the first time because he saw us talking inside. This time we were together in a different way, and my guess is that he was trying to scare you through me.”
“And doing damn good job of it.”
She came over and sat next to him. “So it seems like you’re the target and not your brother. Or me. Agreed?”
“Looks that way.” Steve hated the idea that his presence had become anything but the guarantee of safety he wanted it to be.
“So who have you disappointed lately? Who has you on their dirt list?”
“Who knows? There are men I’ve fired, women I’ve disappointed. I don’t think I’ve offended any children or dogs lately.”