by Lisa Fox
A group of teenagers swept by them, giggling together, the boys trying very hard to get the girls’ attention. Grace smiled as they passed. “I love this city. I can’t imagine ever living anywhere else.”
He felt very much the same. “Are you from New York? You don’t sound like you are.”
“No, I’m from Vermont. I went to Bennington mostly because my mom was a nurse there and we got a great discount. We would’ve never been able to afford it otherwise.”
Something in her voice was off. “She was? Is she retired now?”
Grace was quiet for a moment. “No, she died a few years ago.”
Ryan’s heart plummeted. “I’m sorry, Grace.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Thanks. It’s better now, but it was hard for a long while.”
He wanted to hold her, to comfort her in some way. She looked so sad. “She’s at peace,” he said, feeling fifty-seven different kinds of lame. He’d never been very good with emotional stuff. He was much better at making a girl laugh then comforting her wounded soul.
“That is what they say.” She gave him a tight smile. “And what about your family? Mom and Dad living happily ever after in Philly?”
“Not quite.” He really didn’t want to get into his family history right then. It was a definite downer and not something to share with a beautiful woman on a gorgeous summer day. He looked around for a distraction and found one almost immediately. “Check it out,” he said, pointing across the street at one of the many shoe stores on the avenue. The staff was set up outside, standing behind a long fold-up table loaded with shoeboxes. They seemed to be giving away shoes, handing off boxes to people as they passed by.
“Let’s go see what they have,” she said brightly. She lifted her foot up and waved her hand over her fashionable sandals. “If I’m going to make it all the way uptown, I’m probably going to need some better shoes.”
They crossed over to the store, and Grace got the last pair of sneakers they had in her size—a canvass cheetah print sneaker he was certain the owner was finally glad to be rid of. Ryan had to help her out of the gathering crowd, people with their hands raised high above their heads, groping the air, clamoring for their free pair of shoes. He escorted her away from the teeming masses, keeping an eye out for anyone who thought they could snatch the shoebox from her hands. He glared at the horde, glad he’d decided to walk with her. New York may be safe when there was a cop on every corner, but that was not the case today. He tightened his grip on her hand, and she smiled up at him, completely unaware of his distress. The frown on his face softened when he glanced back at her. It was impossible to be stern when looking at someone so beautiful. She gave his hand a quick squeeze and then released him to lean back against a brick wall to put on her new sneakers.
“What do you think?” she asked, modeling them for him.
She was dazzling in the afternoon light, the sun shining through her chocolate hair, the gleam in her aquamarine eyes, the turn of her calf as she showed him her new shoes. She stole his breath and made him aware of every single beat of his heart. “Stunning.”
A rosy flush touched her cheeks. “Thanks.”
His gaze fixed on her lips, glossy and slightly parted, and every part of him yearned to know the taste of her kiss. “Here,” he said, taking her sandals from her hand. Anything to distract himself from that dangerous train of thought. “Let me carry those.” He stuck the shoes in his back pockets.
She laughed as he intended, and he offered her his elbow. She slipped her arm through his and began to walk forward, but he resisted just for the fun of it. Her brow furrowed, and she looked back at him. He smiled at her, a playful grin. Rising to the challenge, she tugged on his arm, but he planted his feet on the sidewalk and wouldn’t budge. People streamed around them on their way to wherever they were going and she pulled harder, but she had no real hope of moving him. Her eyes narrowed, and she wrapped both her arms around his biceps and tried again.
“Something wrong, Grace?”
“No. Why would you think there’s anything wrong?” she replied, really throwing her weight into it.
Ryan screwed up his face to keep from laughing at her effort. “I don’t know, you seem a little agitated.”
She chuckled and hugged his arm against her chest. “Are you particularly fond of the view from this spot? Is that why you don’t want to move?”
His biceps lay between her breasts and every nerve ending in his body was suddenly on fire. His gaze traveled over her, a sinuous curve from her eyes to her lips, to her throat, to the outline of her breasts pressed again the fabric of her shirt, and then back up again. “It’s an excellent view.”
She blushed furiously and dipped her head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Why?” he asked, leaning down into her space to catch her eye. “Because I think you’re pretty?”
If anything, her face got redder. She squeezed his arm tighter and could not meet his gaze. “Stop.”
He let her squirm for a few seconds, than relented. “I’ll stop. For now.”
He started walking, and though she tried to prevent him from moving, he easily dragged her down the sidewalk while she giggled madly.
They walked on, through Union Square, past the Flatiron Building, following the curve of Broadway as it crossed Fifth Avenue and turned west toward uptown. It wasn’t long before they could see Macy’s and Herald Square in the distance.
“Oh, God,” Grace groaned by his side. “I never realized how big Manhattan was before. We’re not even halfway there yet!”
“Come on,” he said, giving her arm a gentle tug. “Less than fifty blocks to go now.”
“Fifty blocks?” she grumbled. “I’m never going to make it.”
He nudged her with his shoulder. “You’ll make it, even if I have to carry you.”
She looked up at him. “Would you really carry me?”
“Sure,” he said. “Of course. I could probably piggyback you for twenty blocks without a problem.”
She stroked his biceps over the fabric of his shirt, warming the skin beneath. “Are you really in that good shape?”
He grinned over at her. “Boxing requires a lot of training. I take it pretty seriously.”
“You’re not as big as the boxers I’ve seen on TV.”
“TV loves heavyweights. I’m middleweight. I don’t have a big, rocketing punch like the heavier guys tend to have, but I’m quick and I have a long reach.”
“Yeah? Is that how you won your last fight?”
“Yes,” he said as they entered Times Square. Costumed actors milled around, entertaining the hundreds of people streaming through the center of the city. They dodged Elmo and Pikachu doing a tumbling act for a small gathering of children and couples. Vendors lined the sidewalks, selling water and hot dogs, nuts, candy, and pretzels. “In fact, it got me into the finals. In about a week, I might be this year’s champion.”
“When’s that fight?”
He guided Grace around Captain Hook and out of the heart of the crowd. “Next Friday night at a gym down in Tribeca.” He took a deep breath and decided to take the chance. “Wanna come?”
She looked up into his eyes and smiled. “Yes, I would.”
He would have never thought three simple words could make his whole day. “I’ll leave a ticket for you at the door.”
“That’s okay, I can buy one.”
“We’re allowed to have a guest.” He held her gaze. “I’d like you to be mine.”
She blushed again, and Ryan decided it was his new mission in life to make her do that as often as possible. “Thank you.”
Midtown stretched out before them, a never-ending array of luxury stores and overpriced restaurants, tourist’s shops and wholesale electronics. Grace touched her throat and looked up at him. “I’m really thirsty. Do you think we can get some water somewhere?”
He looked around and spotted a sidewalk café a little ways up that seemed to be serving food and drinks. “There,”
he said, pointing it out. “Let’s take a break.”
She smiled, but then her face instantly fell. “I don’t have any cash on me. I doubt they can take cards in a blackout.”
“Good point.” He rarely carried cash himself. “Let’s find out.”
They arrived at the café a few moments later and entered the cool, dim establishment. “Hi,” Ryan said, to the man standing at the entrance, holding a stack of menus. “Is there any way you guys can take cards today?”
The man smiled. “No problem! We have a card reader on our tablet. We got it after all those brownouts last summer.”
“Excellent,” Ryan said. He should not have doubted. If there was a way to make money, someone in New York was going to find it. “We’d love a table.”
The man showed them to table outside behind the restaurant, a small patio area shaded by large umbrellas. “Our kitchen is all gas,” he said, handing them menus. “So, everything is available until we run out.” He signaled to someone over their heads. “Your waitress will be right over.”
A blonde woman in a long apron approached the table. She was young, probably a few years younger than he was, petite and very pretty. A week ago, he would’ve been all over her. She caught his eye, and he knew he could have her. Usually that was thrilling, a feeling he lived for, almost like conquering, but today that instinct disgusted him. He was not the kind of man who deserved a woman like Grace. But he wanted to be. More than anything.
“Something wrong?” Grace asked, obviously picking up on some of his internal struggle.
“No,” he said, refocusing all his attention on the incredible woman sitting across from him. “Everything’s fine.”
The waitress greeted them cheerfully. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?”
They both ordered water and settled in to look at the menus. It was a basic high-end diner with specialty omelets and gourmet sandwiches.
“What’re you getting?” he asked her.
“Hmm,” she said, licking her bottom lip in a way that made his heart race. “I think I want an omelet.”
“Yum.”
There must have been something in his voice because she looked at him over the top of her menu, then smiled.
The waitress returned with their drink and they both ordered omelets. He got the western, she got swiss and mushrooms.
Ryan picked up his water glass and held it up to Grace. “To blackouts.”
She lifted her glass. “To blackouts.”
They touched their glasses together and drank. The water was only slightly colder than room temperature, but it was delicious and refreshing. Ryan leaned back in the metal chair, happy with the day. Evening touched the sky, a light dusk of pinks and blue and purple. He turned his face toward the sun, absorbing some of the last rays. Walking miles and miles had never felt so good. But then anything would probably feel good with Grace by his side.
“Feel nice?” she asked.
If only she knew how much. “Yeah,” he said. “Real nice.”
She looked up at the sky and then back at him. “It’s gonna be dark soon. It’s going to take you forever to get to Coney Island.”
Now that was a hell of a reminder. He didn’t quite know why he wasn’t trying to scam his way into spending the night in her bed instead of walking all the way back down Broadway and then out to Brooklyn. For some reason, it just didn’t feel right. Maybe because she was his client. That had to be it. It was the only reasonable explanation. “I’ll be fine.”
She looked him over, a small smile playing on her lips. “How old are you, Ryan?”
“Twenty-five. Why?”
“I was just wondering.” She met his gaze, her face serious. “I’m older than you.”
Yeah, by maybe three or four years at the most. She was so earnest, he had to mess with her a little bit. “Well, you don’t look a day over fifty-six.”
She laughed and slapped his arm. “I’m going to be thirty in October.”
She said it rather primly. It was cute. “Dear, God,” he said, grabbing his chest. “You’re ancient.”
She shook her head. “You really are ridiculous.”
“My lady,” he said, sitting up to take her hand. “I do it all for your pleasure.” He kissed her knuckles and that blush he liked so much once again stained her cheeks. He really did enjoy seeing it.
The waitress arrived with the food and they dug in. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he took the first bite. The omelet was exceptional, a melody of flavors that exploded on his tongue and hit his taste buds just right. She must have been hungry too because they passed the rest of the meal eating in comfortable silence.
Chapter Four
“All right,” Grace said as they stepped out of the restaurant. People streamed up and down Broadway in singles, pairs, and groups, young people and old, all enjoying the day and one another. She looked north, squinting as the fading sunlight blazed in the corner of her eye. “Only about twenty-five more blocks to go.”
“Are you ready for that piggyback now?” he asked.
She chuckled and shook her head. She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed as much as she had today. He was truly ridiculous. She had no doubt he would piggyback her all the way home if that was what she wanted. She thought of how silly she would look climbing on his back. How it would feel to wrap her legs around his waist, have him between her thighs, her arms around his neck, holding on tightly…
“Let’s cross the street,” Ryan said.
Grace looked back over her shoulder to see some kind of disturbance happening a few yards down on 62nd Street. It looked like there was a bunch of people gathering around outside a store. The sound of breaking glass was very loud and then alarms pierced the otherwise quiet evening. Even as she watched the scene unfold, she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. “Are those people looting?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
Her mind had a hard time processing that people were looting on the Upper West Side. It was disturbing in a way she had never considered before. She moved a bit closer to Ryan, and he put his arm around her shoulders. She wound her arm around his waist and hugged him tight, suddenly very grateful for his company. People really did go primal at the first opportunity. The West 60’s was a high-rent district, full of cute specialty stores, organic markets, and tea shops—not the kind of place where you’d think to find looters. But maybe she was dreadfully naive. The lights go out and people start ransacking precious little doodad places not because they need anything, simply because they could. There were probably going to be lots of crimes of opportunity committed tonight. Maybe even crimes like murder.
“Hey, Grace,” Ryan said, breaking into her thoughts. He gave her a gentle squeeze. “Still with me?”
She shook herself out of her daze. “Sorry. I was thinking maybe there would be a blackout in my next book. Maybe people would go a little crazy in the Hamptons and murder would occur.”
He laughed. “Feeling inspired, are we?”
The vibration of his laughter rumbled through her, tickling her insides and heating her cheeks. “I am. I’m thinking the lights could go out and people would freak. Old animosities stir and murder becomes a possibility.”
“Vengeance and opportunity.”
“Exactly.”
He smiled over at her. “I like it. I have to tell you, I really enjoyed your first book.”
She blinked. “You read my book?”
“Of course I did. How could I make you a website if I didn’t know your work?”
“Oh,” was all she could manage. This could be bad. When she started writing Seth, she didn’t think Ryan would ever read it.
“Yeah,” he went on, oblivious to her discomfort. “I can’t wait to read them all.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from cursing. She was too deep into the story and the character to change him now. Plus, she liked Seth. He was developing really well. And Mia seemed to like him too. An awful
lot. Maybe Ryan would get bored. Or maybe when the job was done he’d forget. Which reminded her of the whole reason she was with him at all. “I really liked the way that last website image looked. But maybe the inn could be a little bit brighter? Maybe even more in the forefront?”
Ryan nodded. “That isn’t a problem. We should meet again and discuss some more details on how you want the pages set up and what kind of content they’re going to have.”
Yes, she definitely wanted to meet with him again. “When is good?”
“When is good for you? I can work with your schedule.”
Today was Wednesday. No words in today. That was a problem. It meant she had to do double on Thursday. Her laptop was charged, so she could write if the power was back on or not during the day, but she hoped it would be back by tomorrow night at the latest, or else she was going to be working in the dark. And then Friday was a bust ’cause it was the day she saw her father, and she could never write on those days. On that day, she went home and had a drink. Sometimes two. Friday night, she watched movies, read books, went to bed. Anything to not feel what she felt after those visits. So, that meant a heavy weekend and lots of editing and new words on Monday. Her head started to hurt and she had to push the panic down. This schedule was killing her. “How about late Tuesday afternoon?”
“Tuesday afternoon is just fine.”
A group of young women passed, all of them around Ryan’s age. He took one quick look at them and then returned his gaze to her. There was something in his look though, something sleek and sharp, which made Grace wonder if her sexy, young web designer wasn’t a bit of a playboy. She’d had the same feeling at the restaurant, when their pretty, blonde waitress approached the table. A part of her just knew that if she wasn’t by his side, he’d be talking to those girls right now. Jealousy made her want to grimace and spit, but she held herself in check. As much as she liked his company, he didn’t belong to her. He had the right to do whatever he wanted when she was not around. And while everything she told herself made perfect, logical sense, it didn’t stop a bitter worm from squirming in her heart.