She and Ted were still figuring things out. If this was indeed a date, it was their first, or at least their first in sixteen years. She wasn't about to invite him into her bedroom.
Not that she wasn't tempted. If she asked the doorman to allow Ted to come upstairs, they might never reach the wine bar. She might just yank him across the threshhold, slam the door, shove him onto the bed, and have her way with him. She had been embarrassing herself with nearly constant X-rated fantasies about him ever since their outing to Coney Island. Something about riding the Tilt-A-Whirl with a sexy man could make a woman incredibly horny.
She laughed, then gave her head a shake, wishing she could throw off such thoughts the way a dog could throw off water by shaking its body. Their meeting at Fanelli's had been a get-together, their outing to Coney Island a lark. She was not going to bring Ted upstairs. Their history notwithstanding, they weren't going to pick up where they'd left off sixteen years ago. Ted was not going to gain easy access to her bed with a wink and a dazzling smile.
Her intercom buzzer sounded, and she abandoned her efforts to tame the summer frizz from her hair. When she lifted the intercom receiver, the doorman reported that a gentleman named "Ted Scallop" was asking for her. "Tell him I'll be right down," she said, then returned to the bathroom for one final inspection of herself in the mirror. Her dress was new-she'd bought it just for tonight-and it looked fresh and flattering without being obvious. She checked inside her purse to make sure she had her wallet with her-even if this was a date, she wasn't going to leave her wallet behind again-and then left the apartment, locking up behind her.
Ted wasn't in the lobby, but the doorman nodded toward the building's glass front door and she spotted Ted outside, leaning against the mailbox and thumb-typing text into his BlackBerry. She thanked the doorman and swept out of the building.
"Hi, Erika," Ted said without looking up.
She grinned at his ability to sense her presence without even looking at her. Had he caught a whiff of her perfume? Or was he just so attuned to her that he felt her nearness subliminally?
He looked wonderful. Not just in an objective sense, not just as a guy good-looking enough to turn heads, but as Ted, the man she was going on a date with. The man who had once been the boy she'd loved.
She had loved him back then. She'd thought and thought about it, recalling every detail of their summer together, remembering the flutter she'd felt in her heart and her gut every time she saw him, every time she heard his voice on the phone. Every time they were together-and when they were apart, too.
She'd loved him but talked herself out of it.
To this day, she didn't regret her decision to break up with him. The timing had been wrong then. Now, it was perfect. Everything about this moment-the way Ted looked leaning casually against the mailbox in a jacket, an oxford shirt open at the collar, tailored slacks that reminded her of the strength in those wrestler's legs, and his eyes as green and full of life as the ocean at Coney Island had been last Saturday-was perfect.
Except for the fact that he had told her he would never love her again.
He'd asked her out on a date, for God's sake. Maybe he didn't love her. Maybe he couldn't love her. But they had this evening, this moment. If it wasn't perfect, it might well be as close to perfect as she could hope for.
At last he tucked his BlackBerry into a pocket and gave her a full appraisal-and a shimmering smile. "I like your necklace," he said.
She had to touch her hand to her throat to remember what necklace she'd chosen. All that time donning her new dress and fussing with her hair and eyeliner, and she couldn't even remember what she looked like. The necklace was one of her chunky, artsy pieces. She had only two kinds of jewelry: classic, demure, daughter-of-a-stockbroker adornments and wild, brash stuff. She wondered what Ted would think of the elegant strand of cultured pearls sitting in her jewelry box upstairs.
"Is there a good place around here?" he asked. "This is your turf. Where should we go?"
"Do we want food or drinks? Or both?"
"Both," he said, then made a hand gesture she interpreted to mean that she should lead the way.
She didn't want to lead the way. She wanted to hold his hand. Better yet, she wanted him to arch his arm around her and hold her close as they walked down the street. This wasn't just a date, she thought; it was a first date, and their history didn't seem to matter. He kept his hands in his pockets and she kept hers at her sides. They felt empty, hollow.
First date. "This place is nice," she said as the approached a cozy wine bar. "We can get drinks and snacks."
"Perfect." He held the door open for her and she stepped inside.
The hostess, a thin young woman with cheekbones sharp enough to draw blood, led them to a small round table. A single pink rose stood in a bud vase at the center of the table, next to it a jittery flame dancing on the tip of a wick dipping into a well of oil in a blown-glass bowl. Erika focused on the flower and the lamp because it was easier on her nerves than focusing on Ted. He looked too damned good. And she couldn't erase from her memory bank those dooming words he'd once spoken.
I will never be with you again.
He asked her how her day was, and she told him. "It was busy. Demanding. Okay," she concluded with a sigh.
"Just okay?"
Another waif-like woman came to take their order. Unemployed actresses, Erika deduced-both the server and the hostess. Unless they were unemployed models. They were certainly skinny enough.
Ted skimmed the wine list, then handed it to Erika. "I don't see any Budweiser here," he joked. "You order."
She requested a Pinot Grigio and Ted requested a platter of fruit and cheese for them to munch on. As soon as the waitress sashayed away in what definitely resembled a runway saunter, he narrowed his gaze on Erika. "Why just okay? I thought this was your dream job."
"I thought so, too," she admitted. "I shouldn't even be talking about this, but ... well, the economy is doing its dying swan routine. Some of the big financial companies are going to take a hit, and my company might be one of them."
"Really." Ted seemed not surprised but concerned. His gaze warmed with sympathy. "How bad a hit?"
"I don't know. There'll probably be layoffs. I don't think I'm at risk, but do I want to be there while everyone else is getting sacked?"
"Everyone?"
"Well, no." She realized she was overstating things a bit, but sharing her worries with Ted was such a relief. She hadn't been able to discuss them with anyone else. Her father, a Wall Street veteran, might have offered good insights, but if she told her parents, they'd fret about her. And she couldn't talk about the shaky economy with her colleagues, who were all feeling the tremors beneath their feet as strongly as she was.
But she could confide in Ted, whose insights were every bit as valid as anything her father might have to say. He talked about how riding the economy these days was like riding the Tilt-AWhirl-or, more aptly, riding a wave. "You think your footing is secure and you're balanced, and then suddenly a wave you can't even see knocks you over. It's nothing you did, nothing you can prepare for. It just happens."
The conversation flowed as smoothly as poured wine. They sipped their Pinot Grigio, nibbled on grapes and slivers of brie spread on whole-wheat crackers, and Erika gazed into Ted's eyes and saw the boy she'd loved as a high school girl and the man he'd grown into. He had changed-and hadn't changed. It was like having double vision, seeing the past and the present all in one person and feeling her own past and present colliding. Who she was then, who she was now. How she'd felt then, how she felt now.
He'd been easy to talk to then, too-at least until the end, when the talk had revolved around her leaving him. But even as she'd broken up with him, she'd trusted him. She'd believed he was always speaking from his heart, regardless of the fact that his heart was shattered. She'd hurt him, and he'd told her, as honestly as he'd always spoken to her: I will never be with you again. I could never be this hurt again.
She had loved him then. Loved him as well as an eighteen-yearold girl with a horizon yawning open in front of her could love a boy not standing on that horizon. It had been an immature love, an incomplete love, an unprepared love. But it had been love.
And now?
It was love. She was falling in love with Ted Skala all over again. Not with the boy he'd been then, but with the man he was today. As she listened to his words, as she nodded and laughed and offered reasonable responses to his comments, a part of her brain was sending out frenzied signals, like one of those car alarms that switched from a beeping horn to a siren wail to a screech. Ted was breaking and entering her heart, and her mind was emitting a deafening warning: He will never be with you again. Not that way. You hurt him too badly.
If she loved him-no if about it-then he could hurt her as badly as she'd hurt him. And then they'd be even. Maybe that was the best she could hope for.
Because suddenly, finally, she comprehended what he'd experienced all those years ago, when she'd abandoned him and set out on her own path. What he'd felt then, what she was feeling now, was crazy. It was obsessive. It was magical. It was scary.
It was love.
"So, you're going where tomorrow?"
"Sun Valley," she told him. They'd finished eating and drinking and left the wine bar. Above them the sky stretched lavender, a color she always associated with summer evenings in Manhattan, and the air was warm without being oppressive. Unlike SoHo, Gramercy Park radiated a dignified calm: young couples strolled along the sidewalk pushing elaborate strollers, elderly couples leaned into each other and moved slowly, their lumbering gaits heavy with age and affection. A few children skimmed past on scooters. The trees surrounding the park at the center of the neighborhood were dense with leaves that fluttered slightly, casting flickering shadows on the ground. "I'm leaving directly from work tomorrow."
"What's in Sun Valley?"
"Ski slopes," she said, then laughed. "Nobody's skiing at the moment, of course. It's beautiful there in the off season. When I was in college, I did a lot of hiking. I really loved the mountains out west. So some friends and I are meeting there to hike and swim and enjoy the resort at discount prices."
"Sounds nice."
"I think the time away from the office will be good for me." The time away from you will be good for me, too, she thought. Her heart seemed swollen with love for Ted. She needed to get away, to regain her perspective. To remember that he'd sworn he would never love her again.
"I hope you spend the whole time you're there thinking of me slaving and sweating here in New York, breathing all the bus fumes and trying to keep the economy from going under."
"You're so noble," she teased. "So selfless."
"Yeah, that's me." Abruptly, he took her hand and gave it a tug. She thought he must have noticed a kid on a scooter or a skateboard speeding toward them, and he was pulling her out of the kid's path. But when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw no one. And when she turned back she realized Ted had pulled her to a stoop, the brownstone steps leading to the arched entry of a charming old townhouse.
Before she could question him, he had her in his arms. He bowed his head, touched his mouth to hers, and lingered.
This is love, she thought, wrapping her arms around his strong, solid shoulders and kissing him back.
The kiss seemed to last forever. It wasn't fiery, it wasn't forcing. Just Ted's lips against hers, sweet and gentle, exploring, nibbling, savoring. She tasted tart wine and honey-sweet pears and the heat of her own desire as he quietly seduced her mouth with his.
Then and now, she thought. He'd been a fabulous kisser then, and he was an even better kisser now. She'd been crazy for his kisses then, and she was even crazier for them now.
Oh, she had it bad. This wasn't nostalgia. It was love.
He was the one to end the kiss. If it were up to her, she'd have remained by that townhouse stoop, snuggling into his embrace, kissing and kissing as the night fell over them and the next day arrived. She would have missed work and her flight to Idaho.
But if she'd been the sensible one sixteen years ago, he was the sensible one now. He drew in a deep breath, peered down at her and smiled. Then he took her hand and walked with her the last block to her building. Neither of them spoke. As easily as they could talk, they could just as easily enjoy each other's silence.
At her building, she considered asking him in. She shouldn't; they both had work tomorrow morning, and she still had to pack for her trip, and ...
And she didn't want her heart broken. Even if that was her fate, she wasn't ready to accept it yet.
But he took the choice away from her by stepping back and saying, "So, I'll see you when you get back."
"Okay." She sounded half-drugged. Okay. Anything you say, Ted. I'm all yes for you.
He was still holding her hand, and he lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss to her palm. Then he folded her fingers around it, as if to make sure his kiss wouldn't slip out of her grasp, and turned and walked away.
She told herself she would sleep on the flight. She sure as hell didn't sleep that night. She was too psyched, too crazed, as dizzy as if she'd just stepped off the Tilt-A-Whirl. As if she was still on it, unable-unwilling-to get off.
She managed to fake her way through work, one eye on her watch and the other on her suitcase, propped in a corner of her office. When her cell phone rang that afternoon, she prayed that it would be Ted.
Instead it was her friend Allyson. "Is there something you want to tell me?" Allyson asked.
Erika was too tired and distracted to figure out what Allyson was demanding. She let out a weary laugh. "No. There's nothing in the world I want to tell you." Another laugh, and she added, "I told you I'm flying out to Sun Valley this evening, didn't l?"
"Screw Sun Valley. Maybe you don't want to tell me anything, but I want to tell you something."
"What?"
"I just got a text from Ted Skala. It said, and I quote, `I kissed that girl Erika last night.' Who is that girl Erika? Which Erika do you suppose he's talking about?"
Erika laughed again, an eruption of sheer joy. "Oh, Allyson. I'm in love."
THE THOUGHT OF HER OUT WEST, climbing mountains, gives you heartburn. She went out west and climbed mountains before, didn't she? She climbed mountains and stood on snow-capped peaks and surveyed the world spread out below her, and you weren't in that vista. She didn't see you at all.
Go slow, Skala. Be careful. Only one woman in the world can break your heart, and it's Erika Fredell.
If you do nothing else in your entire freaking life, do this: protect yourself Don't let her hurt you again.
She texted him from Sun Valley. She might be climbing mountains out there, or swimming in the resort pool, or shopping in the boutiques, or just decompressing from the stresses at work, but somehow she managed to keep him in her vista. Her texts were brief and superficial, but he didn't need them to be long and heartfelt. All he needed was to know that she was thinking about him at least half as often as he was thinking about her. That kept him going until she returned home.
Once she did get home, he intended to see her again. He had to see her again. Was he supposed to ask her out on more dates? Wasn't that a bit quaint? A bit artificial? After all he and she had been through?
He just wanted to see her, be with her. Absorb her.
His cell rang while he was at his desk. At the second ring, he swiveled away from the artwork he'd been evaluating, checked his cell phone's screen to see who his caller was and smiled. "Hey, Fred," he greeted. "Are you back?"
"Surrounded by skyscrapers instead of mountains. I forgot how noisy Manhattan is."
"You weren't gone that long."
"It felt like forever." She paused, as if she wasn't sure what she'd said. He wasn't sure, either, but he interpreted it the way he wanted to: it felt like forever because she'd missed him. "What did you do while I was gone?" she asked.
"Ate some pizza, went to some org
ies, the usual," he joked. "I found this pizza place where they go overboard with the olives. You know those pitted black olives? I love them."
"Then that's the pizza place for you. I hope you enjoyed the orgies as much as the pizza."
"One orgy is just like another. After a while they get boring."
"So," she said, sounding a little breathless. "Are you all booked up on the orgy circuit, or can we get together?"
He smiled again. "I'll cancel the orgies. When are you free?"
"Tonight's a mess. How about tomorrow?"
Was she really going to make him wait another day to see her? "Tomorrow sounds good," he said, hoping he didn't sound as eager as he felt. "When should I pick you up at your place?" Can I come up to your apartment this time? he thought but didn't ask. He was curious to see her home. Gramercy Park was one of the fanciest, priciest neighborhoods in New York. A hell of a lot fancier and pricier than his little dive in Hoboken. He needed to know if she was living the life of a Manhattan princess-because if she was ...
Shit. He was searching for barriers. Hoping for protection. Scrambling for excuses that would allow him to rationalize maintaining his defenses.
Erika wasn't the kind of woman who'd care about whether she lived in a nicer place than he did. All those years ago, she hadn't broken up with him because he pumped gas while she was attending an exclusive private college, right?
Not right. That might have been one of the main reasons she'd broken up with him.
He exhaled, wishing he could force his insecurities out of his mind as easily as he could force the air out of his lungs. Erika was discussing times, and he heard himself promise to be at her place tomorrow at seven.
Screw her fancy apartment, he told himself once the call had ended and he'd stashed his phone back in his pocket. He was going to see her. She wanted to see him. He could protect himself without succumbing to self-doubt. He was a successful man. No one could shake his confidence.
Meet Me in Manhattan (True Vows) Page 18