table next to hers.
“You come on to me in the cab, we have sloppy sex in your bed, and then you pass out.
I try to revive you with my hand and you dream of an old fling, calling out his name.”
She burns in remembrance and turns away, arms wrapping around her middle. “You call
our night together tolerable and then sporadically return my texts.” She grabs her
glass, props a hip against the counter and takes a long swig of wine. “Then you pick
up another guy the next week, spend time with me on the weekend, and then see him again on a lunch date.” She’s not looking at me now, but staring off in the direction
of the stove. “I think I’m right in saying you’re the one playing games, lady.”
“Oh, yeah? What about you?” She tears her gaze from the stove to stare at me. “Pulling
me into the storage room at the bar?” Anger colors her tone. “Playing with me in the
conference room until I could barely see straight? Gagging me and having me masturbate
on the bathroom floor?”
I step toward her, leaning close to pin her to the counter top. “And you loved every
damn second of it.”
Her face sears under her conflicting emotions. “I’ve never felt this way, Andy. It
confuses me.”
Placing an arm on both sides, I trap her in place. “Why are you so scared, Carla?”
“Because I can’t control it!” And there it is, her biggest fear just slipped past
her careful wall of indifference.
“Sex isn’t about control, at least not how you’re thinking.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking?” she says with a slight sneer.
Ignoring her poke of nastiness, I grab her face in my hands and hold her still while
I kiss her hard. By the time I let go, both of us are breathing fast. “Because I’ve
been where you are.”
“Oh, really? And where would that be Mr. Perfect Accountant?”
Recognizing her jabs for what they really are now, a way to cover her fear, I let
it go. “You’re lost,” I say, then plant a kiss on her forehead. “And I plan to show
you the way.”
A snort escapes her, but that’s better than her earlier anger. “How?”
I kiss the end of her nose, striving for light-hearted and silly. “How about we have
dinner first?”
She smiles, relaxing in my arms. “Okay, dinner first. Do you like Italian?”
“Love ‘em.” I wiggle my eyebrows, “The women are especially passionate.”
“You’re incorrigible!” She’s laughing and the moment of difficulty is behind us.
“All joking aside, I’d planned dinner for us at the Piano bar up on Christopher Street.
They’ve got a great menu and the atmosphere is nice.”
“Sounds good to me.”
We leave and in minutes we’re walking on the sidewalk, hand in hand. I like the feel
of her grasp in my own. It’s warm and reassuring, like we’re a good fit, despite what
she’d like to believe. Her constant prickly attitude is a defensive mechanism, and
now that I’ve got her figured out in that regard, I refuse to let her sharp words
get to me.
A warm spring breeze blows in our faces, bringing with it the smells of the city plus
the hint of warmer days to come. Sadness skirts over me as I remember the springtimes
of my youth, camping trips and hanging with Andrea and our folks. Maybe I’ll be able
to create similar memories in my future with the person I start a family with.
“Do you like to camp?” The question blurts out impulsively.
Carla tilts her head, glancing at me while we walk. “We went on a couple of trips
when I was younger, when my dad was still around.”
“Did your parents divorce?”
She pulls away slightly, forcing me to tighten my grip to hold her hand. “Um…no. Not
exactly. He left us when I was fourteen.”
I stop dead in my tracks, turning the tiny blonde to face me. Her father leaving their
family makes perfect sense. The worst of her emotional walls were brought on by that
single act. “I’m so sorry. That had to be incredibly hard on your family.”
Carla shrugs, unwilling to meet my eyes. “You don’t need to be sorry. It wasn’t your
fault. He just up and left one day.”
“No note? No phone calls? What did your mom think?”
A short sound of laughter erupts from her. “My mom? She put on a brave front for the
first few weeks. When the cops couldn’t even trace his car they suggested it might
have been deliberate on his part.” Her voice turns soft, a trace of bitterness creeping
into her tone. “Like he took on a whole new identity to start over. Apparently it’s
not uncommon.”
I pull her toward me, wrapping my arms around her in a hug. “That’s awful, Carla.”
Her stiff body hesitates in my embrace for a moment and then relaxes a fraction. I
cup a hand over the back of her head and hold her close, determined to ease her old
pain. I had asked who hurt her so badly, but I had no idea it was her own father.
How the hell does a guy battle against a past like that?
Resolve settles inside me. I’m not going to give up just because she’s got baggage
no one should have to suffer through. Her past has made her who she is, just like
mine has for me. She pulls away from my embrace, awkwardly glancing up the sidewalk.
“That’s the place on the corner, isn’t it?”
I nod and tuck her hand in the crook of my arm, determined to have her closer to my
side for the rest of the walk. “Not all men are like your father.”
She glances up at me through a fringe of bangs. “I’m starting to realize that.”
In a few moments we’re at the restaurant, the maitre d’ smiling when he sees me. “Ace!
Good to see you. I saw the reservation and hoped it was you.” I reach a hand out in
greeting and the older man ignores it, pulling me into a quick hug. “We’ve missed
you!” He pulls back and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at Carla. “Is this the lovely
lady who’s taking up so much of your time? Will you be coming back soon?”
“Good to see you, Gino.” I place a hand in the small of Carla’s back. “This is Carla,
we work together.”
“Work?” His expressive eyebrows shoot up again, making his aging forehead a mass of
lines and wrinkles. “You are working somewhere else?”
I shake my head, hoping to cut him off before he says any more. “We’ll talk later,
Gino, okay? I don’t want to keep the lady waiting.”
“Yes, yes.” He waves a hand toward the main room of the restaurant. “Excuse my manners.
I’ve got a table waiting for you close to the floor. Just in case you change your
mind.”
Carla smiles at the older gentleman, but I can tell by the look she shot me that she’s
wondering what’s going on. Gino leads us into a dark interior, small lamps lit at
each round table, a huge piano dominating the center of the restaurant, with a small
dance floor in front of it.
We sit down and Carla says, “Who’s Ace?”
Chapter Fifteen
Carla
Andy glances behind me with longing. A look over my shoulder reveals he’s staring
at the piano. Interesting. I wonder what is going on. I cock an eyebrow at him, waiting
for him to answer.
“I’m Ace. It’s a nickname I picked up while playing.”
“Pl
aying what?”
He gestures with his chin to the glossy black instrument sitting under a spotlight.
“I played the piano professionally before I came to work at the advertising agency.”
A tingle of shock races through me. “Get out. You’re teasing me.”
“No really, I did. I told you I didn’t dream of corporate life forever.”
“Well, yeah, you did, but I assumed you meant you’d like your own accounting firm
one day or something.”
He shakes his head, a small melancholy smile on his face. “You know what they say
about assuming.”
“Come on! How could I have ever guessed you were a musician? Why did you stop playing?”
Andy settles back in his chair, looking like he’s getting comfortable to tell a tale.
A waiter comes over with a big smile and an open bottle of wine.
“Ace! Gino told me you were here. Good to see you.” He pours us two glasses of red
and then places the bottle on the table. “Michael said you were on the schedule for
this weekend. It’s a treat to see you here during the week, my friend—especially since
it’s been so long!” At my look of askance at the wine he says, “Forgive my presumption.
This is Ace’s favorite and I grabbed a bottle when I heard he was here. Do you mind?
It’s a house red, good body.”
I reach for the wine, eager to hear more from Andy when the waiter leaves. “Thank
you, sir. I’m sure it will be terrific.”
The dark haired gentleman smiles my direction. “She’s a cute one, Ace.” He bobs his
head at Andy. “Be sure to keep her a little while.”
Andy’s eyes heat with desire. “I’ll do my best to keep her happy, Glenn, trust me.”
Glenn nods his approval and leaves to attend other diners.
“Well?” I prompt. “Going to keep me hanging?”
Andy takes a sip of his wine, staring into the glass, a hint of sadness in his eyes.
“No, that wasn’t my intention. It’s a difficult topic and I’d hoped we’d have a light
evening.”
“Difficult, huh?” I smile to show I’m teasing. “Did you knock up a waitress?” Andy
grins and it encourages me to keep going. “Cause a scene over an affair with a married
woman?” He chokes at that one and puts his glass down. “Oh, I know—burn down the kitchen
when you had a threesome with the waitress and the midget washing dishes?”
Laughter erupts and the sad look I saw in his eyes leaves. “You really think I’m the
type to have an affair with a married woman?”
I shrug a shoulder and reach for my own glass. “Dunno. You might not have known she
was married… would explain how you know so much…,” I fidget in my seat, uncomfortable
with how to phrase his sexual expertise, “stuff.”
His eyes shine with barely contained mirth. “Are you trying to find out why I stopped
playing piano or why I’m such a creative lover?”
My cheeks burn at his bold question. “Can’t blame me for being curious, right? I mean,
how does an accountant learn all the things you’ve tried on me?” I take a drink and
place my wine back on the table.
“Well…” His voice trails off and he leans in closer. “We’ve already established I’m
not just an accountant. Maybe I learned things in my days working night clubs.”
“Maybe…” I pick up my menu, excited to be here, eager to draw out our easy speech
as long as I can. I hadn’t expected to feel this relaxed with Andy, or this intrigued
to learn more about him. He’s like an enigma, wrapped in a puzzle, masquerading as
a simple man. All this time I worked side by side with someone I dismissed as boring
due to his job. Really shows how superficial and petty I’d become.
Why this man would go to so much trouble when I’ve been nothing but a difficult bitch
is beyond me. Does he expect me to become his sex slave or something? The thought
brings on a mental squirm, indicating I’m not entirely adverse to the idea—especially
if I’d get to feel like I did today after he completely controlled my pleasure in
the restroom.
Andy’s eagle eye gaze narrows on me. “What are you thinking about, Carla?”
“Why me?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. “Why did you pursue me when all I’ve
ever been is self-centered and bossy to you?”
Andy’s face softens and he reaches for my hand, forcing me to put down my menu. “You’re
too hard on yourself. You’ve been more to me than that, and more to others around
you, too.”
I look away, not sure I’m comfortable with his observations, especially when it seems
like he’s not really answering my question. “Uh-huh.”
He tugs my hand, bringing my attention back to our joined fingers. “When your friend
called you last month, panicking about her phone? You talked her off the edge, gave
her guidance. I heard you.” I raise an eyebrow at him—he’s grasping at straws. “Don’t
look at me like I’m full of shit. I’m not. That’s just one thing. How about when the
office manager, Judy, was out sick for a few weeks over the winter? You took her dinner
several times and even babysat her kids when she went to the doctor.”
My eyes widen. “How did you know that?”
“I pay attention Carla. I’ve watched you—not in a creepy stalker kind of way, just
as a man interested in finding a good woman. I’ve seen you rush out to yoga class
and still stop to give the homeless guy on the corner money for soup. Three weeks
ago, I saw the flyer for Dress for Success that you slipped into every woman’s cubicle before they arrived at work.” He pulls
my fingers to his mouth, placing a kiss on their tips. “You may act like an unfeeling,
prickly shrew around the men you invite into your life, but that’s not who you really
are inside.”
Tears fill my eyes and I jerk my hand to pull it away. He holds fast, staring at me
like he’s looking into my soul, seeing me like no man ever has.
“You have a good heart, Carla. And that’s what I want in my life.” He smiles to lessen
the intensity of the moment. “And besides, anyone else wouldn’t have challenged me
mentally.”
“Really?” I say, a touch of smarm in my voice. “‘Cause you’re such a genius you haven’t
found an equal?”
He gazes at me with a superior air of serenity in his expression. “The best things
in life require hard work. If you gain something easily you don’t value it as much.”
Glenn bustles back to our table, a tray in one hand. “Gino told Beverly you were here,
too. She sent out several appetizers for you to nibble on.” He sets down a long platter
holding at least half a dozen different artfully arranged delicacies.
“It looks scrumptious.” I beam up at the server. “I didn’t see this on the menu.”
Glenn waves a hand, dismissing the generous gesture. “Sometimes she tries new things
and wants to share them with her friends. Please, eat. Ace is like family.”
Andy smiles his thanks and picks up a square of toast with tomatoes and spices on
it as Glenn leaves.
“They seem to love you. When did you stop playing here?” I reach for a seasoned shrimp
on a stick.
He finishes his appetizer before answering, “I didn’t technically stop, just lowered
my appearances to once every other month or so.” He gazes lon
gingly at the grand piano
once more. “I can’t give it up completely.”
Avoiding Mr. Right Page 11