Now You See Me

by S. Y. Thompson

  Erin spied several framed diplomas leaning against the wall. Carson wore jeans and a flannel shirt with her blonde hair pulled back into a once-tidy ponytail.

  Erin waited until the hammering stopped and then tapped lightly on the door with one knuckle. She grinned when Carson’s head whipped around and their eyes met.

  Carson lowered the hammer to her side and returned Erin’s smile. “Come on in. What time is it?”

  “Almost four.”

  Erin walked into the room, and stepped carefully over the myriad debris. “In fact, I was just on my way out since my day pass has expired.”

  They both smiled at the small joke, and Carson flushed a little. Erin wondered if Carson was embarrassed for eliciting the promise from her to leave early. Maybe Carson felt she was a little presumptuous, but Erin warmed to the idea that someone would care enough to extract that agreement.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Carson admitted. “I was afraid that you would try to break curfew.”

  “Not this time, but I don’t know for how long I can force myself to leave early. You’re just lucky this is Christmas week and there’s nothing to do anyway.”

  Erin stepped around some of the clutter, and in front of the leather chair. She indicated Carson’s diplomas with a nod. “Do you need some help there?”

  “No, it can wait. I’m just trying to settle into my new office. This is a far cry from a warehouse office where the only window looks out over a concrete bay.”

  “I can imagine.” Erin grinned and looked around. “But it’s going to look very nice. I like that desk.”

  Carson glanced at the heavy piece. “The credit for that goes to Ray. All of the offices already had them.”

  Erin’s eyebrows lifted to her hairline. “He must be very impressed with you. I’ve never known him to give expensive furniture to any other client.”

  “Really? Then I’ll try not to let him down,” Carson teased and laid the hammer on the desk, careful not to scar the wood. “Did you stop by just to let me know you were leaving?”

  “Actually, I had an ulterior motive.”

  Carson stood only a few steps away, and the light blue eyes captivated Erin. Carson quirked one eye curiously and her lips curved into a small smile. Erin studied the tiny lines in the full lips and unconsciously licked her suddenly dry lips. For a moment, it was difficult to look away, until Erin reminded herself that she was still at work and pulled her professional mantle back together.

  “Oh,” Carson prompted softly.

  Why was this so difficult, Erin wondered? Granted it had been a while, but surely she could ask a friend to have a drink with her.

  Maybe because I want her to be more than a friend, an inner voice presented.

  Erin ignored the tiny voice. “Um, I was wondering if I could persuade you to leave early and join me for a drink.”

  “Hmm, let me think,” Carson said playfully. “Stay here and hang dull documents on the wall, or share a pleasant drink with an intelligent and attractive lady? I think I’ll take the drink.”

  Carson took a step toward Erin and because she wasn’t looking where she was going, stepped right into an empty cardboard box. Her foot wedged in the bottom and her other leg tripped on the open flaps. Carson stumbled forward, and Erin, who was only a few steps in front of her, tried to step back out of the way. That turned out to be a fatal error when she staggered over a pile of books and started to fall backward.

  Erin landed sprawled in the leather chair with Carson headed right for her. Carson tried to stop her fall and grabbed for the arms of the chair. Her breath came out with a whoosh when her stomach hit the leather-covered arm, and ghosted across Erin’s mouth.

  Inches separated them, and their eyes locked. They were so close Erin could see the blue eyes dilate and darken with...need. An answering surge grew in the pit of her stomach and her lips parted with her panting breath.

  It had been six long years, but she still remembered what desire looked like. Carson’s eyes drifted lower on her face and settled on Erin’s lips. Erin was aware of the blood hammering in her veins and looked again at Carson’s mouth.

  Was it as soft as it looked?

  She watched spellbound as Carson’s eyes fluttered half-closed, and her sweet breath whispered softly into Erin’s own mouth.

  She was so close Erin could feel the heat from her body, and a deep inhalation would press their upper bodies together. Erin thought Carson would kiss her, and she wanted it. Instinctively she leaned closer, slowly drawn toward the softness. Then Carson closed her eyes and pushed back from the chair.

  “That was really clumsy of me,” Carson said and bent down to extricate herself from the box. “Sorry about that.”

  Her voice was huskier than usual, and she wouldn’t look at Erin, for which Erin was immeasurably grateful. Maybe that drink wasn’t such a good idea.

  “It’s all right,” Erin assured her quickly and stood up. “With all this clutter it’s a wonder you didn’t break your leg.” She meant to make the comment humorous, to try and lighten the mood. Instead, it came out a little harsh, and Carson looked at her with a wounded expression. “Well, I guess I should go.”

  Erin stood and headed for the door, intent on a fast getaway to somewhere that she could get her emotions under control.

  “What about that drink?”

  The soft question stopped her before she reached the door and Erin turned back to Carson. Pinned in place by the blue-eyed gaze Erin’s stomach flip-flopped helplessly. Painfully aware of the questioning, hurt gaze, Erin felt like an absolute heel. It wasn’t Carson’s fault Erin was over-reacting. If Carson hadn’t pulled away, Erin knew she would have kissed her.

  Erin wanted to feel justified for running out the door by claiming that she had worked too hard to allow an office indiscretion to ruin her reputation, but it didn’t work. Carson didn’t work for her, and there would be nothing wrong with getting involved with her. Even if Erin refused to allow anything to happen at work, it was clear that Carson felt something, too.

  Erin took a deep breath and looked at her again. Carson could have anyone she wanted, man or woman, and Erin knew that she wanted to be the one Carson chose.

  She had grown to know Carson during the weekend. She knew that Carson came from a harsh upbringing, was calm and determined, that she was brave, compassionate and gentle. Erin was more than a little attracted to Carson’s strength of character, but it was more than that. Even now, Carson waited quietly to allow Erin to come to a decision without feeling pushed. It was exactly the right thing to do.

  Carson had a dark smudge across one cheek, and her flannel shirt hinted at the full curves beneath. Her mussed hair had some of the wisps sticking up, and Erin thought her the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

  I’m falling for her.

  Desire was one thing, but this was different. It was deep, and intense, and Erin didn’t want to fight it. She wouldn’t have a public display at work, but she didn’t think Carson was the type to carry on public displays of affection. Besides, Erin realized, she was getting a little ahead of herself. It was very possible that it had only been a momentary lapse on Carson’s part. There was no evidence to support the idea that the Carson might want to get involved with her, but she would never know if she didn’t take a chance.

  Erin tried to still the nervous shaking in her fingertips. “I’m game if you are.”

  She wasn’t sure if she was only talking about a drink.

  Carson smiled. “It’s my turn to pick the place, and I know just the right spot. It’s a little old-fashioned Irish pub downtown.”

  “Your car or mine?”

  It seemed that now that she had acknowledged her attraction, Erin couldn’t resist flirting. Carson didn’t seem to notice as she picked up her overcoat from where she had slung it across her chair and reached for her purse.

  “How about yours? I’ve been dreaming of riding in it since you told me it was yours.”

  “You fantasize
about my car?” Erin laughed.

  “Oh yes,” Carson answered softly in an odd tone and waited for Erin to walk out ahead of her. She pulled the door shut and then locked it.

  CARSON WENT INTO the bathroom to comb her hair and wash the smudge from her face. Freshening up was an excuse but Carson needed a few minutes for the shaking in her limbs to stop.

  I can’t believe I almost kissed her. I can’t believe she almost let me! Then, the light flirting that had followed was obvious enough that even Carson, as inexperienced as she was, caught on to it.

  The only reason Carson turned away at the last moment was fear. She was afraid to disappoint Erin by her inept kisses. Erin was older and had been involved in romantic relationships while Carson had never been in the position to kiss anyone. Unsure and frightened, she had pulled away.

  Stupid, she berated herself silently as she scrubbed at the dark spot on her cheek. I should have just kissed her. We both wanted it, and if she wants me, then she would put up with a little awkwardness.

  Something tells me I wouldn’t be inexperienced for long!

  Carson smiled into the mirror. The image of Erin’s lips pressed against hers threatened to heat her blood again. She pushed the mental picture away and left the bathroom. She stepped into the hall and Erin’s gaze flickered and warmed when she saw Carson.

  “Ready to go?”

  Carson nodded and followed Erin to the parking garage. The 350Z was a beautiful car with leather and wood grain interior. Erin turned on the heated seats, and allowed the heater to warm up for a minute before she shifted into gear and pulled out of the concrete structure.

  “So, where’s this pub you like to go to?”

  Carson laughed. “I don’t go there a lot, but it’s a very quaint place called Grace O’Malley’s. Head downtown and I’ll direct you as we go.”

  Erin glanced at Carson playfully, obviously enjoying herself. “Sounds mysterious.”

  Relieved that Erin seemed comfortable with her after what had happened in the office, Carson smiled back. “Not really, but it is a very small place. It’s a little dark, and definitely not a place visited by upper society. I like it because to everyone else, I am just another patron. No one even seems to notice me when I go there.”

  “Ah, anonymity. I understand completely. What about the name? I’ve heard of places called O’Malley’s but not Grace O’Malley.”

  “It’s named after a sixteenth century lady pirate,” Carson informed her with a wink. “I think you’ll like it.”

  “It sounds intriguing. I can’t wait.”

  THE MOMENT IN Carson’s office seemed to have broken the ice between them in a critical way, and Erin was glad she stopped by with the invitation. The atmosphere in the car was warm, the air heavy with mutual chemistry. Erin kept her eyes on the road partly to follow Carson’s direction and partly because she knew that if she looked at Carson now, she wouldn’t be able to look away.

  Before long, Carson directed her into a sharp left turn that Erin wouldn’t even have seen if she hadn't pointed it out. The bar was small, but well-kept and in a nice suburban neighborhood. As was typical of most bars, it was dark and smelled of ale, but the furnishings were clean and fresh. Erin saw the owner had decorated appropriately after an Irish female pirate, with a seafaring motif throughout. Gaffs, rusty anchors, and battered wooden oars adorned the walls.

  Soft Celtic music played in the background.

  Erin thought it was indeed quaint, as Carson had warned her, but she adored it. Carson led her toward the back in the darkness to a small circular table against the rear corner of the room. A solitary candle flickered on the table and cast a red hue on Carson’s features.

  “There aren’t many people here right now,” Carson said, “Which I guess is normal for a Monday. But it gets very busy on the weekends.”

  Erin nodded and looked over a low wall situated just behind them toward the bar. A young woman drew beer on tap and laughed with the other patrons. Erin enjoyed the friendly and relaxed atmosphere, and even though the two sat in an open room, the low wall behind lent a feeling of seclusion and intimacy.

  A young woman stepped up to the table and took their order. She didn’t linger, but headed quickly to get their drinks.

  “I can see why you like this place. It’s very homey, but tell me about the pirate it’s named after. I thought pirates considered it bad luck to have a woman on a ship. How’d she get away with it?”

  Acting pleased that Erin was enjoying herself Carson answered. “It was, but interestingly enough, Grace O’Malley wasn’t just on a ship. She was the captain.”

  Erin leaned forward on her elbows, captivated by the story, and a broad grin crossed Carson’s face before she continued with her story.

  “It seems that Grace’s father was an Irish trader who sailed the seas. She kept pestering him to allow her to go with him on the ships, but he refused. One day she cut all her hair off, dressed in boy’s clothes, and stowed away on the vessel. Her father was so astonished, and impressed, that he allowed her to accompany him from then on.”

  The waitress returned at that moment and deposited their drinks before leaving them alone again.

  “And the pirate thing,” Erin asked. “What did she do to be considered a pirate?”

  Carson shrugged. “Not so much really. Ireland was battling the English at that time on the seas, and anyone who fought against the English was labeled a pirate. She did engage in battles with other pirates though, and was considered quite the swordswoman.”

  “That’s a fascinating story,” Erin said and sipped at her beer.

  What was more interesting was the animated way Carson had recited it. Her eyes that were usually so cool and even sparkled with fire. A wave of attraction for Carson hit so strongly that it eclipsed what Erin had experienced earlier. It was so intense that for a moment she was tempted to lean across the table and act on the raw impulses that cascaded through her.

  She watched full, red lips touch to the frosted glass and imagined how they would taste. The flash of the pink tongue made her gasp.

  “If you keep looking at me like that I will not be responsible for the consequences.”

  Erin flushed in embarrassment and looked away quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  Have I misjudged what is happening between us? Is this all just a fantasy, something I want to happen so badly that I'm projecting my emotions onto her?

  Soft fingers closed on her hand and drew Erin’s attention back across the table. Carson’s eyes were gentle, and a small smile curved her full lips.

  “I never said I was uncomfortable.”

  Carson had leaned a little to stretch across the table. The position strained the neckline of her shirt and exposed a hint of her full cleavage. Erin blinked and suddenly had trouble swallowing. She forced her eyes back to Carson’s face, but Carson was looking at their hands. Erin glanced around and pulled away with a regretful look that told Carson that Erin was uncomfortable holding hands in public.

  “I wanted to do that with you at the RL,” Carson said.

  “You did,” Erin asked. “I...I had no idea.” Then she admitted, “So did I.”

  Both were quiet for a moment as they sipped their drinks, and simply enjoyed the company and the atmosphere. Even though lost in their own thoughts, their eyes wandered slowly across one another. The glances were almost physical and Erin could clearly feel the visual caress on her skin.

  She wanted to see more of Carson away from work and wondered what she would enjoy doing. Did she like to ski, or ice-skate? Or was she more of the indoor type?

  “I really enjoyed the RL,” Carson said. “Shellfish is one of my all-time favorites, and the wine was impeccable. Do you think we could go back there sometime?”

  “I think that could be arranged,” Erin said softly. Apparently, they were both thinking along the same lines. “What else do you like to do? I know you like sweet, white wine, and Japanese art, and intima
te Irish pubs, but I’d like to know more. What kind of music do you enjoy?”

  She saw that the question pleased Carson and that she smiled before she answered. “I like all kinds of music from soft jazz, to light rock and even some of the old Big Band music. What I do not care for is hip-hop, rap, acid or country.”

  “Too whiny,” Erin smiled. “I like jazz, too.”

  “What else do you enjoy? Do you like any sports?”

  Erin considered the question while she lifted her drink. “Not on television. The only thing I watch on television is football, and even that is only occasionally. As for sports I like to participate in, I like to snow ski, and I’ve even been known to do some equestrian riding.”

  “That looks difficult with all those hedges,” Carson said. “Aren’t you afraid that you’ll fall?”

  Erin laughed. “Sometimes. People can get very competitive, but I really enjoy it. Do you ride?”

  “Only western style. I considered having stables put in on my property but finally decided against it. I’m just not around enough to take care of horses.”

  “And horses do require a lot of work.”

  Carson nodded in agreement. “But I do like to snow ski. I also play racquetball, pool, and I like to swim.”

  The idea of Carson’s beautiful body revealed in a swimsuit threatened to heat Erin up again, and she drained the last of her ale.

  “Would you like another,” Carson asked politely.

  “Better not,” Erin said regrettably. “It’s a school night.” And I wouldn’t be able to control myself if I had much more.

  Her own glass empty, Carson laid a bill on the table for the waitress and asked if Erin was ready to go. Back in the car, Carson didn’t hesitate to reach for Erin’s hand after she shifted into drive.

  Carson’s fingers were strong and warm in her hand, and Erin held her gently, almost afraid that she would break the spell between them. After a moment, she released Carson’s hand since she didn’t want her to feel pressured.

  Erin wanted to take Carson somewhere private so that she could kiss her goodnight, and was disappointed that she couldn’t. Instead, she would have to drive back to the Holcomb Building so Carson could retrieve her car.