by Liv Morris
Perfect Strangers
A Love in the City Short
by Liv Morris
Copyright © 2012 Liv Morris
Digital Edition: December 2012
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without permission in writing from Author.
Cover image licensed by www.depositphoto.com, Copyright Lomachevsky
Cover Photo design by Jada D’Lee
Edited by Dee Ward
eBook Design by AM Design Studios
Acknowledgments
Dedicated to innocent lives lost in the idyllic area of Connecticut where I once lived.
Table of Contents
The Working Girl
Danger Ahead
Cashmere Knight
Warming Up
Hung By Her Tongue
Unhappily Rescued
Heating Up
True Confessions
Watch Over Me
About the Author
The Working Girl
My eyes are looking down as I type away furiously on my keyboard. Just a few more numbers to enter and I’m finally going to shut this computer down.
Ping, ping. Click, click.
After pressing “send” and emailing my yearend report, I’m finished… Finally! Twirling around in my office chair, the walls of my little cubicle blur before my eyes.
When the spinning stops, my chair faces the partitioned offices of my neighbors. But something’s missing as I scan around me. There doesn’t appear to be a single head peeking over the top of the other cubicles. It looks like I’m the last holdout tonight. Which makes sense; it’s New Year’s Eve, after all. Only crazy workaholics stay this late on a night made for the fun type of alcoholic endeavors.
A door slams loudly in the distance. I jump out of my chair turning quickly toward the noise once my feet land on the ground. Wobbling on the heels of my boots for balance, my heart pounds away, startled. Someone in the shadowy hallway moves in my direction. Thankfully, I recognize it’s my stumpy, firecracker of a boss. He’s notorious for being quite the tyrant, but I’ve found he’s really a softhearted man, at least where I’m concerned. He walks toward me with a scowl on his face. His countenance is nothing new and a welcome sight as I realize I’m not alone in this deserted building after all.
“Katrina Williams, what the hell are you still doing here?” Mr. Stephens never yells but I know from his gruff tone and the use of my full name that he means business. “Everyone was supposed to leave a couple of hours ago. Gather up your coat and hightail it out of here.”
“Okay, I’m leaving now,” I respond back to him. “I needed to finish the yearend reports for Bentley. I’m gone all next week, remember? And he wants the numbers by January 4th or else.” I cringe at the thought.
“Kat, it’s New Year’s Eve for Christ’s sake. And haven’t you heard the news?”
I shake my head. I’ve been too busy with my report to even care about what’s going on beyond my three partitioned walls.
“What’s up, Mr. Stephens?” I ask genuinely concerned when I see the worried look on his face.
“For starters, Chicago is under a winter storm warning.”
“You’re kidding me? I thought we were supposed to get just an inch or two.” I look out the glass walls of the building, but only see the evening’s darkness reflected back at me.
“We’re way past a couple of inches already. The last report I heard said the wind is really starting to pick up too.” Okay. He’s worrying me a bit now. “So scoot and get started on that overdue vacation of yours.”
“Alright sir, I’m out of here.” I stand at attention after pulling on my coat and give a little half-hearted salute. “Happy New Year, Mr. Stephens.”
“Same to you, Kat. And please drive safely.”
I nod and grab my purse out of my desk drawer but decide to leave the laptop here. Out of sight means out of mind. At least that’s my plan for the next few days.
I shout one last goodbye over my shoulder as I wind through the labyrinth of office desks toward the elevator. I hear some cursing coming from somewhere behind me. I laugh at Mr. Stephen’s silly mutterings. How his sweet wife puts up with him and his sour moods is beyond me.
Standing in front of the elevator, my foot taps impatiently. What’s taking so long? I push the down button a few more times for good measure. Finally, the doors slide open and I practically jump in. As the cage starts to descend, I do a little happy dance. My vacation has officially begun. Yay, me!
I’m free for a whole seven days and plan on being a lazy sloth. Days filled with wearing yoga pants and watching old Audrey Hepburn movies are awaiting me. Oh, and ice cream. Lots and lots of chocolate ice cream.
Unfortunately, the lazy times won’t start until tomorrow because tonight I’m meeting my parents for a late dinner. It might be a bit of a snoringly good time for New Year’s Eve, but it’s better than the alternative. The usual New Year’s Eve party at which I’d make an appearance would likely be attended by my ex-fiancé. He’s a super big jerk and I’m avoiding him at all costs. Unless I have a GQ looking date by my side, that is. This would counteract his Victoria’s Secret looking replacement for me.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to arrange even a semi-hot date for tonight. Since breaking up with the ex, my dating life has amounted to a couple blind dates that were orchestrated by my so-called friends. All of the dates, utter disasters.
So, I’m off to meet my sweet parents, hoping they’ll have mercy on me and not ask if I’m seeing anyone new. They know how hard the last few months have been on me. It’s rather mind-blowing to come home early from work and find your fiancé in bed with the hot neighbor down the hall…
Well, it definitely took the wind out of my sails. Now if I could just find someone to re-inflate them. Hmmm… Maybe there will be a hot waiter or bartender at the restaurant tonight. I could go for a little harmless flirting. Of course, I’ll need at least two strong drinks to play that game. Maybe even more with my parents supervising me.
God, I’m hanging out with my parents on New Year’s Eve. Could I be any more lame? Probably not. At least I have my job to keep me busy. I’ve thrown myself into advancing my career since my breakup, and my latest promotion puts me way ahead of the ex-fiancé in the income department. Gloating isn’t my normal style but right now, I can’t help it.
The elevator doors open to the garage parking in the lower levels of the building. There are only two cars in view, Mr. Stephens’s and mine. My sporty little SUV is all shiny and new. It was a little post-breakup present to myself. It should be a big help with tonight’s weather, too.
Pulling out of the parking garage, I’m hit with a wall of snow. The weatherman said flurries were likely this afternoon, but this is close to being a complete whiteout. My palms are starting to sweat now.
I grip the steering wheel tightly and curse the white stuff blowing around me. Dammit. I hate driving in the snow. One would think being raised in Chicago would give me mad snow driving skills, but I have no love for the snow. I’m always a ball of tension behind the wheel when it starts sticking to the ground.
Since the roads are completely snow-covered and getting treacherous I inch my way toward Lake Shore Drive. There’s a red light up ahead and thankfully I ease into a skid-free stop and exhale. Removing my white knuckled fingers from the steering wheel, I pull my phone out of my purse. I need to make a quick call to my mother, let her know that I’m going be lat
e. Real late.
“Kat!” My mother’s voice is strained and anxious. “I’ve been worried sick. Have you left work yet?”
“Yes, I’m just about to get onto Lake Shore. But I wanted to give you a heads-up. The snow is crazy right now. Traffic is horrible, so I’ll probably be late.”
“Oh, sweetie. I know how you hate driving in snow. Maybe you should wait until the roads are better?”
“I’ll be okay. This is Chicago, Mom. If there is one thing they can do, it’s clean up some snow. I’ll be fine.”
“Promise you’ll be careful and turn around if it gets worse,” she begs.
“I promise. Please don’t worry. I’ll be okay.” I try to comfort her and I think it works because she changes the subject.
“I baked one of your favorites today. Apple pie. As a matter of fact, I’m going to thaw some steaks. We’ll just eat at home tonight.”
“Sounds good. I have no idea when I’ll get to the house.” I see cars starting to move in front of me. “Oh, Mom, the light turned green, better go.”
“Bye, Kat. Drive safe, dear.”
I say goodbye and end the call, as both of my hands are needed on the steering wheel. My neck and shoulder muscles tense up as the car moves forward. Hopefully, I can talk Mom into giving me a little shoulder rub when I get home.
As my car inches along, my usual radio station breaks to broadcast a Special Report. Chicago’s mayor is asking, or more like pleading, that all motorists clear the roads because the street plowing crews are making little headway against the heavy snowfall. Add rush hour and New Year’s Eve travelers to the mix, and the roads were totally jam-packed leaving a complete gridlock across the city.
I just need to get home. Home. That’s my focus now. Mom’s cooking and maybe some hot chocolate will be waiting for me. I imagine Dad sitting in his comfy chair by a roaring fire. I can almost hear the wood popping and feel the warmth from the flames.
Now I really do hear popping sounds as car horns blare all around me. A bus has begun to swerve erratically in front of me and my foot presses hard onto the brakes. I clutch the steering wheel for dear life as my car skids toward the side of the still moving bus. It’s now sideways across all the lanes of traffic on Lake Shore Drive.
Danger Ahead
As the bus fishtails in front of me, I get a sick feeling in my stomach. The car next to me swerves out of the bus’s way and ends up in the ditch facing the opposite direction. I continue to slam on my brakes, but realize a chain reaction wreck is about to take place and I’m going to be a part of it.
The next few seconds transpire in slow motion. I pump my car’s brakes, turn the steering wheel as I’ve been taught, but still my car spins out of control. It becomes clear that my fate is in someone else’s hands, so I close my eyes preparing for the inevitable crunch of metal. But it never comes. Instead, I feel a thud against the passenger side door. My head keeps moving and hits the window at my side, hard. Now my car has come to a halt, so I open my eyes to see where I’ve had landed. My vision is a little blurry but eventually focuses.
Somehow, I’ve ended up parallel to the bus with my car’s right side pressed against the back wheel well. I’m sure I have a large dent, but the most important thing is I’ve thankfully survived to live another day. Putting my car in park, I rest my forehead against the steering wheel and say a silent prayer. Though my head hurts a little, my life was somehow spared.
Taps at my window draw me out of my reverent moment. I look out to see a young man staring at me through the glass. He’s mouthing something and motioning for me to roll down my window. I reach for the button and roll it down.
“Are you alright?” the stranger asks.
“I think so,” I reply, rubbing the small knot forming by my left temple. He smiles down at me with a beautiful display of white teeth. I want to restate my condition, as the snowflakes blow around him. He makes me feel anything but okay. I must’ve hit my head harder than I realized.
“You look a little pale. Why don’t you come and sit in my car?” His eyes have a look of concern, but I think I see a smile lurking behind them. “I have a feeling we’re gonna be here for quite awhile.”
He points to the bus that’s hugging my car and blocking all the lanes in front of us. “Someone will have to come and tow away the bus before we can even think about moving our cars.”
I watch snowflakes land on the young man’s black cashmere coat and can see a signature Burberry scarf peeking out from around his neck, which leads me back up to his face. It’s hard to look away from him. I’ve heard people call hot guys beautiful, but this guy really fits the description. He has a strong jaw line, high cheekbones, and intense, dark brown eyes that continue to study me. He is, without a doubt, one hundred percent delicious.
I need to pull myself out of this beautiful boy daze and answer him. He wants me in his car, with him. Um, that sounds like a plan as I throw caution to the wind.
I’ve seen the movie American Psycho, but right now I’m freezing and stranded in the damn snow on New Year’s Eve with a head that’s hurting. I decide to take my chances and smile up at him, feeling warm already. I did mention that he was gorgeous, right?
“Sure, why not?” I finally answer back.
After grabbing my purse and rolling up the window, I turn as he opens the door for me. Next thing I know he’s holding my hand and sheltering me from the wind and snow with his body as he walks me to his car. Jeez, I thought beautiful guys like him were all jerks.
Oh please, oh please, Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome, prove all those urban rumors wrong. I want to believe in miracles today.
Once I’m inside his car, I look around me. Quite impressive. I have no idea what kind of sports car this is, but it’s one sweet ride and expensive too. I can just tell.
I run my hands over the smooth, leather seats as I melt into their soft luxury. I’m thinking he’s an attorney at this point, probably for one of the big firms downtown. But he does seem pretty young to have such a sweet ride. Family money, perhaps?
The driver’s side door opens. His long suit-covered legs stretch into the floorboard as he moves into his seat. I find myself straightening up and feeling a little nervous. It isn’t everyday that a guy like him invites me into a car like this. Actually, it’s never happened to me. Maybe that little bump on my head is making me dream because this whole scenario seems a little surreal to me.
Cashmere Knight
I look up into his eyes. They’re shining at me. His hair has snow scattered throughout the brown waves. He runs his fingers through them and smoothes away the white specks. My eyes move to his mouth. His lips move and I simply can’t look anywhere else.
“I guess I should introduce myself. I’m Drew Michaels.” A glove-covered hand reaches across the middle console toward me. My hand stretches out to meet his.
“Hi, Drew. I’m Katrina Williams. Kat, for short.”
“Hi, Kat.” He pronounces my name slowly and just above a whisper. Like he’s tasting it. I’m pretty sure my body heat has melted any snow left on me. Somehow, I need to pull myself together and respond back.
“Thanks for letting me sit in your car. It’s awesome, by the way.” I smile up at him. His head almost grazes the car’s interior roof.
“My pleasure. I really mean that, by the way.”
Did he just wink at me? I’m sure he did.
“I’m glad you’re okay. Your car may be a different story, though.” He looks me over concerned. “You’re all right?”
“Just a little head bump from hitting the window. Nothing big, really.” I neglect to tell him there’s a small knot on the side of my head and that I’m feeling a bit dizzy. The dizzy part may be his fault, after all. It’s the “hot guy talking to me” syndrome. I’ve had it a few times over the years. Makes me a bundle of nerves among other things.
“Head injuries are nothing to scoff at. Here, show me where you hit your head.” He moves closer to me. I get a whiff of his cologne. It�
�s spicy and very, very nice. I point to the small bump and breathe in deep. He does smell so good. I sigh as he touches me, very, very gently.
“There’s a good size bump.” His face is scrunched together in concentration. He has my head in both of his hands. He rubs the matching spot on the other side to compare the two. “You really need to get checked out. I’ve had my share of head injures. Football.”
“Oh, I feel all right. Maybe a little dizzy and a dull headache. Had worse skipping coffee.” I chuckle.
“Well, as soon as the police get here, I think you should go to the hospital. Have someone take a look at you.” He’s so serious. I nod in agreement and wish his hands were still touching me.
Reluctantly, I move back into my seat away from him. It’s feeling colder now that I’m closer to the glass window. A slight shiver moves through me as I rub my hands over my tights-covered legs.
“Here, let me turn on the seat warmers.”
“That would be great. Thanks.” He really is a sweet and perceptive guy. Best snowstorm ever.
“So you work downtown?” he inquires.
“Yeah, I work for Fifth Third Bank at the State Street Building. I mostly focus on demographic studies. Target marketing and the like. Boring stuff.”
“I don’t work too far from there.” He seems really interested in me. I feel slightly giddy as he continues. “I’m in the M&A department at Sloan and Farthing Partners.”
“Oh, an accountant?” I raise my brow. “I had you pegged as an attorney.”
“I’m afraid not. Just a corporate accountant. Nothing sexy, sorry.” And there’s that wink of his again. He’s beyond adorable and the sexiest accountant I’ve ever met.
“You must make a lot of money to afford the monthly payment on this car.” After speaking the words, I immediately want to retract them. What a nosy thing to say but Drew seems rather amused by my verbal diarrhea.
“Would it help if I told you I got quite the deal on it?” He laughs while looking amused.
“I’m sorry. It’s really none of my business.”
“It’s okay. I’ve always had a thing for expensive sports cars. When a merger I was working on closed last summer, I used every penny of my bonus for a big down payment. Probably an impulsive decision, but I’ve enjoyed every single mile in this seat.”