by Vivien Dean
"Tourist,” she heard him mumble as he whizzed past. Phone pressed to his ear and frown firmly in place, he shot her another less than friendly look and kept walking down the ramp to the subway, weaving in and out to avoid another collision as he passed everyone in his path.
Beth laughed at his comment. She was far from a tourist. She'd been born and raised in the city, the daughter of one of New York's finest, but the rude man was correct about one thing—aside from Beth herself, only tourists bothered to take note of the beauty right beneath their noses, or in this case, above their heads.
She caught sight of a small girl dressed for a big day in the city in what was obviously her best party frock, gazing gape-mouthed as her mother squatted beside her and pointed up at the magnificent painted constellations. The scene reconfirmed Beth's knowledge that all of the hours of painstaking cleaning and conservation of the terminal's zodiac ceiling had been well worth it.
Planting her large leather satchel firmly back onto her shoulder, Beth turned to head for the terminal's administrative offices for another day of the work she loved, when she felt a strange sensation. Turning, she caught sight of a man near the information booth, a train schedule open in his hand, but his eyes on her. Caught staring, he smiled and dropped his gaze back to the schedule.
She smiled. The interns she worked with were always teasing her about never having a date. Actually, more accurately, they teased her about never having sex—at least, not in recent memory. They said she would forget how from lack of practice. Ha! Apparently, judging from the man's obvious interest, she still had it even if she had not used it in a while. Just because she did not go out with and sleep with a different guy every weekend did not make her a prude. She just was career-focused at the moment. She had plenty of time to go out and sow her wild oats. Right? After all, she would only be turning thirty next month.
As she walked through the door of the offices and caught her two college Conservation and Preservation major interns in an obviously passionate embrace, she had to reconsider that thought. Suddenly, thirty sounded really old in her own head.
Resigned, she cleared her throat. “Good morning."
They broke apart, looking more reluctant than guilty. Ahh, the exuberance of youth that can squelch shame plus so many other annoying little feelings that got in the way of enjoying life when you got older—such as Beth's new and sudden fear that she really had become old before her time. Maybe they were correct, she did need to get some, and she would as soon as she had handled the latest problem to pop up at work, if some other issue did not need her attention after that...
"I need you two to give me an update on those ceiling tiles down by the restaurant. We need to determine if any of the cracks have worsened. If so, we will have to take measures to stabilize them. I'm hoping the damage I found initially was simply from the renovations of the Oyster Bar. If not, we have a big problem on our hands."
The task required only one person, but Beth knew better than to separate the two new lovebirds. They would only spend the whole time text messaging each other on their cell phones if they were not together. You can't fight love, she supposed. Might as well roll with it. And they were working for free as part of their college classes, not that that was an excuse for a shoddy work ethic. She sighed, she did sound old. Next she would be telling them how back in her day there had been no such thing as text messaging.
Robby, the male intern, grabbed the tools he would need to measure and record the information she requested. “Will you be doing the tour today?"
Beth frowned. “Is it Wednesday?” She could have sworn it was only Tuesday.
Lyssa, Robby's female counterpart, laughed. “Yes, it's Wednesday. Damn, Beth, you really have to get a life outside of work."
Beth could feel the creases in her forehead increase at that comment. Now that she was turning thirty, she would probably get wrinkles, too. If she had a social life, or any prospects for one, she might consider getting Botox injections for that...
"I'll do the tour for you if you want,” Robby offered.
Beth shook her head. “No, it's fine. I'll do it. I just didn't realize it was today.” The weekly Municipal Arts Society tour for the tourists was actually the highlight of Beth's work week. Hers could be a lonely job, as evidenced by the years she had spent stuck alone on top of the scaffolding as she scrubbed the delicate painted Sky Ceiling. The tour let her interact with actual living people.
Robby shook his head and grabbed Lyssa's hand with his free one. “Lyssa's right. You need to get out."
Lyssa nodded. “Hey. Maybe there will be some hot male tourist on your tour. Maybe he will ask you out for coffee or a drink afterwards."
Beth rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right!” Although, she wouldn't mind going out with the hottie in the leather jacket by the information booth giving her the eye before, but what were the chances he would still be hanging around in two hours?
"Well if that happens, you better bring him down to the Oyster Bar so Robby and I can have a look.” Lyssa looked way too excited about Beth's non-existent fantasy date.
"It is not going to happen, and besides, you and Robby better be finished down by the Oyster Bar by the time I'm done with the tour,” Beth warned.
Damn, she did sound old.
Chapter Two
He should have been a bum.
Bums faded into the woodwork. If people did notice the homeless population they passed daily, they pretended they did not. No one wanted to think that there were those who had to do without right here in one of the most affluent cities in the world. It got in the way of the enjoyment of their own piggish material consumption. His decision was made. Tomorrow, Rick would go undercover as a bum because dressed as he was and acting like a tourist, he was getting far too much attention today. Even the pretty thing walking around with her head in the clouds that morning noticed him, and she had gotten herself nearly mowed over a few times by commuters while staring up at the ceiling.
Rick glanced up now. Something about the constellations painted on the ceiling did not look right to him but he could not quite put his finger on it. Maybe he would figure out what was wrong later. He would be here for the rest of the day, observing, looking for something out of the ordinary, waiting for his gut to pick up on some tiny thing that his mind could not. If his snitch was correct, there was a hell of a lot more going on here than met the eye. He had already cruised through the tunnels of stores and restaurants—at least he would not starve with all the places to eat around there—but he had yet to come across any clue that Smitty told him the truth.
Now, he positioned himself once again by the information booth in the center of the Main Concourse. There was supposed to be a tour here every Wednesday at twelve-thirty. It would be a good way for him to move around unnoticed and blend in with the rest of the tourists for an hour or so. Who knows, he might even enjoy it and possibly learn something.
He glanced at the clock atop the booth, anxious to get this show on the road. The clock read twelve-thirty, on the dot. A small crowd had already gathered. All they needed now was the volunteer from some artsy fartsy society to lead the tour so they could be on their way.
And then he saw her again ... and she saw him ... the ceiling-gazing tourist from that morning who had caught his eye, and had caught him watching her. And the badge that hung from a lanyard around her neck read “Tour Guide". Shit. The young thing who he'd assumed was an out of town visitor was the tour guide. Well, surprises never ceased.
Now he really had to play sightseer before she blew the whistle that some suspicious looking character was hanging around Grand Central all damn day with nothing to do. He was so dressing like a bum tomorrow. But until then, he put on his most charming smile and decided he would not mind one bit playing the traveler flirting with the pretty tour guide for now.
He could tell the moment she spotted him. Walking fast, probably because she knew she was late, she literally stumbled to a stop when her huge ocean blue e
yes met his. He smiled at her obvious nervousness when she smoothed the blonde hair pulled back and secured in a severe bun at the nape of her neck. She even blushed as she broke eye contact and turned to address the small group assembled for the tour.
Rick listened carefully when she introduced herself as Beth. Bashful Beth the tour guide had piqued his interest, which struck him as odd since he didn't usually go for her type. He liked them bolder ... raunchier even. The kind of woman you could say the word “fuck” to without offending her and then proceed to do just that, good and hard. The kind you could get a little bit rough with and she would not only enjoy it but ask you for more.
This woman—Beth—looked like she required a gentle touch and a slow hand. And he would bet good money that the word “fuck” had ever crossed her lips. So why the hell was he picturing himself peeling the boring beige suit right off her slender body? He must be spending too much time at sleazy strip clubs with Smitty the Snitch lately. His taste had now swung the other way, toward the librarian type ... sexy librarians with full pouty lips who blushed from a hard stare. He could only imagine what she would do if he presented her with something else hard ... Mmmm. Intriguing thought.
He brought his attention away from those kind of thoughts before his dick woke up any further and listened more closely to the woman, suddenly very interested in what she had to say in that soft gentle voice that would sound so nice crying out in his ear as she came ... Damn. Now his dick really was awake. He moved the newspaper he was holding in front of him and directed his attention upwards as she pointed to the constellations above them, wrestling his mind away from the image of taking her on the roof of his apartment building under the real stars.
"...built in 1913 but was nearly taken down by developers in the nineteen seventies. Grand Central was preserved by the efforts of New Yorkers, led by Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. Conservation efforts began in 1996 with the cleaning of the Main Concourse Sky Ceiling. Now you may have noticed there is something strange about the constellations.” She paused for dramatic effect and all the rapt listeners nodded, himself included, waiting for her explanation as she continued. “That is because..."
Then his cell phone rang, sounding louder as it interrupted her speech than it ever had in the entire time he'd owned it. With a mumbled curse Rick stepped quickly away from the group and answered it, thinking how he really wanted to know what was up with the stars. “Yeah."
"Anything?"
"Not yet. I've been here all day and I've been pretty much everywhere I'm allowed to go, plus a few places I wasn't. Nothing."
"Damn it! How the hell can so much stuff be moving through there and not be seen?” His contact sounded as frustrated as he felt.
"I have no clue.” But it was Rick's job to find out. “Maybe it's an inside job."
"You mean an employee there?"
"Could be. They have access to restricted areas ... non-public areas,” Rick suggested. Areas he could get into if he tried hard enough, but it would be a risk if he got caught.
"So what the hell you gonna do? Get a job at Grand Central as a janitor or something?"
"If I have to."
He heard his contact laugh. “I'd love to see that. Keep me informed."
"You got it.” Rick disconnected the call, pasted on an apologetic look, and rejoined the tour. The one upside was that after the phone call, his dick was now behaving itself again, but he'd still missed the constellation talk because now they were headed for Vanderbilt Hall and she was talking about rededication galas and special events or some crap.
The tour ended much too soon, in his opinion. He would have liked to listen to her talk more but in just half an hour, she had led them all back to the Information Booth where they had first started and asked if anyone had any final questions. Rick had some questions he would personally like answered ... such as did she like it better on top or on the bottom, what did her hair smell like, was she soft or loud ... but he didn't think that was what she meant.
A little grey haired lady next to him asked a far more appropriate question. “How do you get to be a tour guide here?"
Beth smiled. “The tours are run by the Municipal Arts Society and all the guides are volunteers. I take a lot of the tours because I happen to work here at Grand Central in the Conservation Department, so it's convenient for me to just pop upstairs for half an hour on my lunch hour.” She shrugged modestly.
Well, well, thank you to Granny for asking such a helpful question. A few more questions got asked and answered but none were as important or pertinent as that first. She worked here at Grand Central, an employee with inside access and knowledge. This could be the answer Rick sought. It may just save him from having to get a job scrubbing the train station toilets and he now had an excuse to cozy up to sweet soft-spoken Beth. Win-win as far as he could see. This assignment was proving to be far more enjoyable than he expected.
Straightening his spine, Rick waited for the crowd to thin before turning his irresistible charm on her.
* * * *
He was on her tour. The man who had been staring at her earlier. More than that, he was headed right for her now. She felt her heart race and her cheeks grow hot. Her interns were correct. It had been so long she had forgotten. And if she got this nervous at the idea of talking to a guy, what the hell would she be like once ... rather if ... they got physical. Oh, my. She was in trouble if she was already picturing sleeping with this tall, dark, and handsome stranger when in reality he was probably just approaching to ask a question he was too shy to ask in front of the group. People did that sometimes when they were afraid they would look stupid by asking a silly question, although this guy looked neither shy nor stupid.
Then he was directly in front of her and blinding her with the most brilliant smile and beautiful green eyes she had ever seen and she had to concentrate on remaining on her feet rather than contemplating his IQ.
"Um, uh, hi. Did you, uh, have a question?” Real smooth there, Beth, she thought to herself as she stuttered like a nerdy schoolgirl when faced with the star quarterback.
His smile never wavered but instead grew until his eyes crinkled in the corners. “Yeah, actually, I do have a question. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"
"I don't drink coffee.” That unbidden truth came blurting out before she could stop it. Darn it! What was she thinking? If he had offered to buy her turpentine to drink she should have simply smiled and said yes. Now he probably thought she wasn't interested. She was definitely going to die a spinster, alone, and possibly never have sex again before then.
He tilted his head to one side slightly, grinning. “Ah, I should have guessed. You're more the herbal tea type."
She felt herself blush deeper. Could she help it if caffeine made her jittery? She dropped her eyes, embarrassed and not sure if she should feel insulted or not, until his hand beneath her chin raised her eyes to his. “I can do tea, when the motivation is right."
Oh boy! He was touching her ... and she liked it. “Um, okay, I guess...” More stuttering. One would never know she had been called upon to address assemblies of hundreds of people and discuss her conservation work on numerous occasions. She could go on for hours about preservation techniques but it seemed she was incapable of a single coherent sentence when the topic was herself and the audience one hot guy ... with really nice pecs and very strong-looking thigh muscles.
Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket and she physically jumped and let out a tiny yelp that had him pulling his hand back from her and frowning.
She cringed inwardly, probably outwardly, too, and apologized. “I'm sorry. Cell phone.” Pulling it out of her pocket, Beth turned slightly to the side and answered.
"I think you need to get down here.” Robby's voice sounded serious.
"Where? Why? What's wrong?” She glanced up and saw the stranger watching her. Now she was babbling, but at least she was no longer stuttering.
"We are outside of the Oyster Bar and we found something that lo
oks pretty major in one of the ceiling tiles."
"Major how?"
"A crack. And I mean a big ass crack and it is new, too, not one of the old ones that just grew."
If she were the type who cursed, this would have been the perfect time for a doozy. “I'll be right down.” She took one step and then stopped and suddenly remembered she had just made a date. Wasn't this just perfect? The situation was totally representative of her entire life, but in microcosm. Her job getting in the way of her social life, the reason she had not had a date in what felt like forever and hadn't had sex in longer than that.
She glanced into this stranger's eyes and decided enough was enough. If fate was kind enough to throw this delicious man into her path for whatever reason, she would not ignore it or him without taking at least a small taste. Beth forced a smile and hoped it did not look as nervous as she felt. “Would you like to come with me and see a very rare insider's view of the conservation and preservation efforts here at Grand Central Terminal?"
He treated her to a crooked grin and made her heart do another flip. “I would love to. Lead on."
The dubious wisdom of her invitation to the stranger became apparent with every step they took toward her two interns and the “big ass crack” they had found. Robby spotted them first and elbowed Lyssa, whose eyes popped open wide and mouth formed a surprised “oh". By the time Beth and her date reached the pair, both were grinning like fools and blatantly staring.
Stifling a groan, Beth decided the only thing to do would be to take the offensive position. “Okay. Where is this crack you found?"
Chapter Three
Rick watched the formerly shy tour guide blossom into a take charge professional, fascinated by what amounted to a tiny crack in some old brick in the ceiling. As she and the young brunette took photos, measurements, and notes, he stood by and observed, while he himself was observed. The young guy who'd been with the brunette kept looking at him and grinning. Finally, Rick turned toward him and extended his hand. “Hi, I'm Rick."