by T. Ainsworth
“One more?” he asked, not caring about anything but being with her.
“You’d better,” she replied, her expression earnest, “or I’ll never forgive you.”
Caroline followed his lead in a harmony that was a perfect moment behind his, their bodies touching as the music told them how to move. When it stopped, Morgan took Caroline’s hand to lead her off the floor. He swore her fingers were still dancing with his.
Janie was seated across the table, talking to the white-haired woman. Both women smiled at them.
“Ooo! My friend Anne said you talked to her! We’re bridge partners!” said Janie. “We both think you dance…beautifully!” Her hands flapped in excitement over the table while her friend gave another knowing nod. “Wes, I knew you would be wonderful on a dance floor! You just never showed me!”
“Janie’s well beyond Earth,” Morgan whispered into Caroline’s ear.
“Leaving Mars at least.” She hid a giggle.
Morgan was overcome by the desire to dance with Caroline again.
“Want to go out there where it’s quieter?” He asked her, tipping his head toward the dance floor.
“I’d love—”
“Ooo, Wes!” Janie continued interrupting Caroline’s obliging smile. “Anne said you met George too!”
The dozing man was listing toward his wife.
“I’m sure he told you he’s a surgeon!”
It was clear the wrinkled physician with closed eyes hadn’t picked up a scalpel in a long time.
“If I do say…you’re both darling when you dance,” Anne said.
Her substantial diamond choker in a platinum setting emphasized what Morgan had learned earlier: their money had paid for the new lobby.
“George and I used to dance every Saturday night at our club.” With enthusiasm in her voice, her fingers flitted together until she shook her head in disgust. “Then both of us got this damn arthritis.” She looked at Janie, then Caroline, and grinned. “So when’s the wedding?”
Holding a silent smile, Morgan searched for an answer that wouldn’t cripple their infant relationship. Caroline was smart, good-looking, seemed to like him, and had come alone to a black-tie event. It was too unbelievable. Had he had that much to drink?
“Ooo…that would be fun!” began Janie. “I—”
Raising her palm to pause Janie’s logorrhea, Caroline said to Anne, “You can’t expect me to marry a surgeon.”
Crap! Morgan thought.
“Good heavens, why not?” Anne countered. “Why don’t you want a doctor?”
“He’d never be home,” Caroline answered.
Morgan felt worse, until her hidden hand squeezed his.
“George came home.” Anne stroked his hair. “Got me pregnant six times.”
Morgan burst out laughing as Caroline grew beet red. Kissing his cheek, she lifted her clutch from the table.
“Time to powder, for poise,” she said then whispered in his ear, “Stay alone.”
Morgan watched intently as Caroline walked out of the ballroom. Janie came over and gave him a hug. Startled, his eyes pulled away from Caroline’s invisible wake.
“Glad you’re having fun! Cay’s so sweet, isn’t she? She likes you!” The next hug squeezed more. “Enough of me! There’s more champagne out there…so I’ll be moving on again! Time to look for a man! These parties are grand for that! Glad you’re getting along so well! I’ll call you tomorrow. Promise it won’t be early…in case you have to sleep late.”
She didn’t need to add that. Missing his cheek, she kissed his ear. Her pungent perfume still cloyed in the air as it had two hours before.
“Tootles, dearie!” she said, waving.
“Janie loves a party. Especially when it’s hers,” said Anne. She righted her husband with a push to his shoulder. “Time for this one to go home. But I want to see your fiancée one more time! She has such sweet eyes…and what a grand figure! She’ll spoil the dickens out of you! I know the look, because I’ve got nineteen great-grandchildren! You’ll have a large family too…and…be able to afford good colleges!”
He had to escape.
Praying for her quick return, Morgan looked again at the direction Caroline had gone. He saw her walking and talking with a woman whose dress barely covered her thighs—and clearly had a longstanding relationship with a plastic surgeon.
The two women parted. Caroline came to him delivering a matter-of-fact smile.
“Her future husband’s a major donor,” said Morgan, rising to hold her chair. “She’s going to be the fourth wife.”
“I know.” With a sly nod Caroline said, “I met number three at a foundation event a while back. Not as audacious—or bodacious, I might say. This one ought to stay indoors.”
“Sorry?”
“A girlfriend’s mom in prep school said it time and again—never leave the house looking like that.”
“Is there anyone here you don’t know something about,” Morgan inquired, adding with caution, “like me?”
Caroline glanced around the room. “I don’t think so.” Smiling, she said, “You especially.”
“Well then, thanks for coming back,” said Morgan. A rush from her fresh perfume shot through his body as he discreetly pointed toward Anne. “And, even after you were bested by her.”
“She was funny. Ah, the voice of experience,” Caroline replied. “I admit, she got me…I’m rarely come up short for words.”
“I’m learning that,” said Morgan.
Leaning closer, her perfume intensified. “Wes…while I stepped out, I checked the auction. Sorry. You didn’t get the Bears tickets.”
He had forgotten. “That’s okay.” His shrug said more.
“Perhaps I can help you get over your disappointment, Dr. Morgan.” Caroline’s whisper caressed his ear. “I live in Lake Point Tower…A quick cab ride.” His regret faded. “If you promise you won’t fall asleep like George…you can join me for a drink.”
Profiled by the glow of the skyline, the white sofa appeared buoyant on the plush oriental carpet that caressed the floor. Caroline spun a rheostat. Light from hidden ceiling fixtures quivered watercolor paintings to life.
He drew off her coat and removed his. While hanging both in the hall closet she asked, “Some Scotch?”
“Tell me where.”
“On the antique chest.” Caroline pointed toward the windows. “There are some snifters as well. Go ahead and pour.” She gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Give me a minute.”Walking down the hallway, her exposed back shimmered above the plunging fabric of her gown until she faded from sight.
Morgan looked around the serene living room. On a small table was a vase filled with fresh orchids. When he bent down to take in their aroma, his eyes looked at the picture beside them. Dressed in riding attire, a younger Caroline sat mounted on a horse while a distinguished man and elegant woman, both with blue eyes, stood alongside holding the reins.
“That’s some gene pool,” he uttered, his contemplation interrupted by a neighboring photograph. Caroline was grinning under a helmet, hooked by a rope to the side of a rock with nothing but sky above and green far below.
He felt queasy and shook his head. Any altitude above two stories terrified him.
Morgan moved to the chest. Averting his eyes to ignore the thirty-three-story abyss outside the windows, he unsealed a bottle of fifteen-year-old Macallan Scotch and dribbled the amber liquid in one snifter then the other. He measured the amount with two fingers to avoid overpouring, not realizing Caroline saw the performance from across the room.
“Wes,” she laughed, “an adult dose is okay.”
Startled, he pulled the bottle away.
“Crap,” he said, “spilled some.”
His handkerchief blotted the puddle and went back in a tuxedo pocket.
“No worries, there’s plenty,” Caroline said. “I’ll be in the kitchen for just a sec. Have a seat…get comfy.”
He placed the glasses on the coff
ee table in front of the sofa and stood…waiting. Cabinet doors opened and closed, then came the quiet rustling of paper.
When Caroline reappeared, she had taken her hair down and tucked it behind her ears. The necklace and heels were gone. In one hand was a crystal plate decorated with truffles, in the other, a lighter. With a click, three candlewicks ignited in a tabletop steel candelabrum. Settling on the sofa, Caroline grabbed a snifter. The slit in her gown fell open above the knee.
“Wes…please…sit down,” she implored him. “It won’t break. Remember, I got it from Janie.”
Her hand stroked the cushion, making the request irresistible. He sank into it. “Take your shoes off, if you’d like,” she purred.
He did.
Caroline raised her glass, and Morgan did the same.
Clink.
“To outhouses,” she said.
His glass remained high.
“Seriously?” he asked.
“Seems to me…a topic of mutual architectural fascination.”
Her snifter came to her lips, hiding a smirk.
“In that case,” Morgan replied, “we’re both going to have to do research frequently.” His snifter tapped hers. “To outhouses…Hope we study them often.”
She unmasked the grin. “I’m onboard with everything but the last part.” She sipped from her glass. “Please…Try the Macallan.”
He tasted it twice. “That’s delicious.” He looked at the glass through the candle flame. “Doesn’t one usually add water?”
“You can,” she said, “but I prefer…undiluted pleasure.”
She sipped again, moistening her lips with the liquid.
Morgan’s tongue reflexively pinched between his molars before reminding himself he had to breathe.
Caroline raised the plate. “Here…try it with one of these. You’ll see what I mean.”
The bittersweet chocolate blended with the aftertaste of the rich whiskey.
“Until now…I was never a Scotch drinker,” he said.
Retrieving the bottle, Caroline refilled his glass. “My daddy gave me the taste for it. The first time, I thought he poisoned me. But it didn’t take me long to love it!” She took another sip and smiled. “Problem is, he drinks really old Scotch…and that makes it expensive. Unfortunately, that stuck too.”
“I’m getting addicted quickly,” Morgan grinned.
“Owning the habit won’t take long,” Caroline replied.
“That’s your father in the picture,” he said, pointing. “The eyes tell all.”
“Amazing, I guess…” She laughed.
“Is that your horse?”
“Yes…Goethe,” she said with affection. “A palomino gelding. He was a graduation present after college…just a fantastic animal. The best gaits imaginable! I taught him dressage.”
“Where do you board him?” he asked. Every hair was tingling now.
“In central Virginia. My parents have a farm there. I went to college in Charlottesville, so…” The Scotch in her glass was almost gone. “Daddy and I would ride together whenever I came home, even during grad school. After I moved to New York, I couldn’t get there much. Mother rides him, usually when she’s bored from gardening, and daddy’s done tending to his orchids.”
“You miss him.” Morgan already knew the answer from the tone in her voice.
“You mean Goethe? He’s part of the family. The animal goes nuts when I come home!” She laughed. “Once, he came racing in from the pasture snorting and whinnying. Goodness! Then…he jumped over the fence and galloped to the car door! When I opened the window, he nestled his muzzle in my face! I had to give him a peppermint treat to persuade him to move enough so I could get out!”
Morgan poured another splash of Macallan into their glasses and asked, “When can you get home again?”
Caroline grew quieter, spinning the liquid in her glass. “Tuesday,” she said. “I’ve got a few days off for Thanksgiving,” adding quickly, “Planned it months ago.”
“Goethe and your parents will be glad to see you…”
Morgan tried not to let the disappointment in his voice escape. He wasn’t on call for the holiday—a rarity. As the only single surgeon in the department, he usually requested call for every holiday so his married colleagues could have time with their families. Ross had invited him over for their traditional barbecue, but Morgan had intruded too many times on Shandra’s kindness. He declined, planning to do nothing except take a morning run along the lake and share another dinner she wouldn’t remember with his mother in her memory care center. His brief thought of Thanksgiving dinner with Caroline was a fantasy too good to be true.
He didn’t want the conversation to stumble, so he said, “I also noticed”—he cleared his throat with intent—“the picture of you mountain climbing. I could never do that. What’s it like?”
“The first time…you’re scared to death…but then for a while…it’s exhilarating.” Her amused expression left. “I don’t need that excitement anymore. But I keep the rope under my bed so I can rappel down if there’s a fire…or if I need to escape from a bad date.”
His eyebrows rose. “Three hundred feet?”
“I’m teasing,” she giggled, studying her finger while it encircled the snifter rim. “It’s a keepsake. Some girls hang on to their teddy bears. For me it’s my rope.”
She looked away, out the windows.
“Wes…” She paused. “I really enjoyed tonight. You were wonderful company…the best.”
“Thank you.” His gaze followed hers to the distant lights. “So were you.”
“I’ve been to more of those things than I care to admit,” Caroline replied. “I like getting dressed up, but after four hours in heels, let me just say…I’m glad they’re off.” Her toes wiggled inside her hosiery. “Actually…I prefer jeans.”
“I feel the same way about bow ties.”
He undid the black noose so the silk tails drooped freely. Caroline added to their glasses again. Morgan read the label.
“So you normally drink Scotch this old?” he asked, his head spinning slightly.
“I bought it today before I had my hair done. Usually I just buy the twelve…” With downcast eyes, Caroline looked at her snifter, but it was too late.
“I sense a conspiracy in play,” he chuckled. “Janie?”
“Yes,” Caroline admitted timidly. “I told her about your tour, how you tried to impress me.”
“And did I?”
“No…but it was cute when you wouldn’t get off the elevator. I’d never imagine a surgeon to be helpless.”
“I don’t like heights.” He squinted, contemplating what more there could be to the evening’s plot. “Was Ross in on this?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t lie as well as you think,” he grinned.
“But…here we are,” she replied.
As Caroline brought the final drops of Scotch to her lips, her eyelids closed. Morgan’s willpower failed and he studied her leg. The examination ended too soon. She placed her snifter on the table and stepped to the windows.
“Come here,” she said softly. He took several tentative steps until she cast a reassuring smile. “Don’t be afraid, Dr. Morgan. I’ll protect you.”
The southern exposure presented a commanding view of downtown Chicago and Lake Michigan. The city lights simmered on the water’s blackness, exposing the white-capped waves. He placed his hand on her shoulder.
“Spectacular,” was all he could say. “The buildings just seem to…stick silently up in the air.”
“Frozen music,” she said.
The little hairs on Morgan’s arms tickled. “I don’t understand,” he whispered.
“They embrace the wind,” she whispered back. “Each…one is a note of a melody.”
With an outstretched hand, Caroline traced the staves of the skyline. “Hear it?” she said, her voice barely audible. “Up here it’s so calm…yet so alive…”
The heart o
f her perfume deepened, synthesizing with her words as her voice trailed off. “I hoped you’d come back here tonight.”
His lips touched her neck and she became still. She turned to face him and they kissed, his fingers caressing the skin of her back. Their bodies drew tight, not wanting to release. Her breathing became faster.
“Caroline,” he said. “I’d better go.”
Reluctantly they retrieved his coat. She tugged at his collar and patted his lapels.
“Keep warm.” She wrapped her fingers in his. “I’m flying to New York Monday. Work,” she added. “Then Virginia…the following afternoon.” Her eyes grew moist. “Please…call me.”
Morgan kissed her again and went out the door.
THREE
Morgan’s phone rang.
Damn it was early!
“Morning!” said the animated voice.
“Ugh. Hi, Janie…What the hell time is it?”
He looked at the clock. She could’ve waited a couple more hours. But there was no chance of that—not after last night.
“Ooo! Did I wake you? I thought nine a.m. was late for surgeons! Sorry! Not really! Did you drink that much?”
“No,” he replied.
“Did you?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“Oh, never!” she exclaimed.
A headache began boring through his skull. It didn’t take a medical degree to remind him that champagne followed by wine and ending with Scotch was a bad thing. Janie’s chipper shrill made matters worse.
“So did you have fun last night?” Janie asked, already answering for him. “I know you did! Isn’t Cay beautiful?”
“Gorgeous.”
Her perfume was still on his face.
“You know, even at rush hour she gets a taxi.”
“No doubt.”
He was definitely very hungover and needed to go back to sleep.
“Dearie…You went to her apartment! I saw you guys leave! Your hands probably wandered everywhere!”
“Janie, please!” Squeezing his eyelids, he then forced them to open.
“You’d be further along if you’d have let me set you two up earlier. But you told me no more blind dates.”
“Caroline’s not your typical—” was all he could say before she interrupted again.