by Vivien Dean
The kid's smirk widened. “Rick, huh? I'm Robby, one of Beth's interns. That's Lyssa over there. She's the other one. So, uh, she's never mentioned you before. When and where'd you two meet?"
Rick raised a brow over the obvious fishing expedition and shrugged, not wanting to give the kid any information just on principal. “I'm sure she'll tell you all about it.” Not that there was anything yet to tell. Rick would work on that though. There was no reason he couldn't get the inside track on GCT and enjoy the company of a pretty woman at the same time.
Unfortunately, Rick had to get this kid's attention off of him first, and his evasiveness seemed to only intrigue the intern further as Robby beamed more brightly. “I can't wait to hear it."
Ah, Jesus. This kind of attention Rick did not need, not while undercover and investigating a case that could blow this city wide open. Rick attempted a diversionary tactic, trusting that these geeky conservation students would be even more into talking about old stuff than gossiping. “So what's the big deal with this cracked brick? Can't you just replace it with a new one?"
Robby's eyes opened wide. “Replace it? Are you crazy? These are the original, turn of the century, self-supporting, interlocking terracotta tiles designed and patented by none other than the famous Spanish architect Rafael Guastavino. Dude, you can't just replace it!"
Bingo. Rick did not know who this guy was or why his tiles were so important, but he smothered a smile at his own cleverness because Robby was now off of the subject of him and Beth and on to another topic altogether. “Oh. Well just throw some grout or clear caulk or glue or something on the crack, then."
The kid actually grabbed his own long, curly hair in frustration at that comment. “What? No. First of all, we have to figure out what is causing the crack, then we need to stabilize it to prevent further damage."
"Oh."
Rick was proud of himself and his diversionary tactics until Robby frowned, cocked his head to the side, and asked him directly. “What do you do for living?"
Perhaps he wasn't so clever after all but luck seemed to be on his side because just then Beth came towards them, looking apologetic. “I'm really sorry. This is going to take longer than I expected."
Shit. Rick turned to Robby. “Could you give us a sec?"
That elicited the expected schoolboy grin. “Sure.” He scooted directly to the brunette for some gossip, Rick was sure, but he didn't care because he had Beth alone for the moment and that was all he needed.
"How about tonight? I certainly hope you're not going to sit here all night long and watch this crack.” He was joking, but actually, from what he had seen of her and her team so far, that might be the plan.
She smiled. “No. I'll set up a machine to monitor vibrations overnight and then measure the crack again in the morning. There's not much else I can do tonight until I have those readings."
He returned her smile. “Good. Meet me tonight then. Dinner, drinks, herbal tea ... whatever you want."
Rick watched the struggle going on inside of her clearly written on her face as she decided—the woman better never try to play poker. Finally she nodded slowly. “All right. I'll give you my cell phone number.” Then she stopped, pencil poised above her pad of paper, eyes opened wide. “I don't even know your name."
He bet this was the first time she had ever agreed to a date without even knowing the guy's name. He'd done far more than that with women without ever knowing their names, but he could tell Beth was so far out of her comfort zone he feared she would go running back into it if he did not act quick.
This was not the kind of woman he usually took home from a bar, fucked, then asked her name ... if they got around to that last part. He took the pencil and paper from her hands and wrote his name and his cell phone number, figuring she would feel better if the control lay in her own hands. Smiling, he handed the pad back to her. “Rick Jones. My cell phone number is on the paper. Call me when you get off work and I'll meet you wherever you want. Hell, we can eat right here if you want. I'm finding Grand Central very interesting and you'll be near your bricks."
Visibly relieved, she glanced down at his name and number, then smiled up at him and nodded. “All right. I'll call you, but unless things change we'll plan on here at the Oyster Bar around six-ish?"
"Perfect.” That would give him a few hours to do another sweep of the building, get in touch with his contact about this new tactic to get inside information, and come up with a convincing story about who this alias Rick Jones was and why he would be hanging around Grand Central Terminal in New York for days at a time. One thing he knew for sure, Rick Jones was going to be very interested in both this train station as well as the woman in charge of keeping it from literally falling to pieces.
* * * *
Was she putting too much thought into this? Beth stood in front of the store mirror and agonized over the tight black and very form-fitting sweater as the sales girl stood by not so patiently and waited for her to make her decision. “Are you sure it isn't ... I don't know ... too revealing?"
The clerk raised a brow. “It's long-sleeved with a high scoop neck."
Beth guessed that was a no and sighed. She did not have time to run home and change before her date—even just that word made her heart jump—but luckily her second home, that being Grand Central, was chock full of stores. She figured if she bought a black sweater to wear with the beige pants from her suit instead of the white button-down cotton shirt and suit jacket she'd worn to work, she would look dressed up enough for dinner at the Oyster Bar. And the black actually brought out her blonde hair.
So why was this decision so difficult? Maybe because the last time she had dressed for a date was so far in the distant past she could not even remember what she had worn.
Glancing at her watch she saw it was nearly quarter to six. “All right. I'll take it. And I'll wear it out if you could just cut the tags off and ring it up."
The clerk looked relieved to be close to getting rid of her after the near twenty minutes of indecision. “No problem.” She headed off to get scissors while Beth took the opportunity to observe how badly her hands were shaking as she took out her credit card. They had been shaking since she'd gotten up the nerve an hour ago to call Rick. She'd held her breath as he answered and said hello and again as she waited for his response when she told him she would be getting out of work soon and could meet him at the Oyster Bar at six if he was still interested. He said he was definitely interested and her heart took off speeding ... and had not slowed down since.
Completing her transaction, she made her way to the restaurant, her heart pounding harder as each step brought her closer. Worse than that, the entire way she kept thinking that Robby and Lyssa were right. She was so out of practice when it came to dating that it would be funny were it not so sad.
Well she would remedy her dating drought here and now, and when she saw Rick and noted how his gaze appreciatively took her in from head to toe and then back again, she suspected her sexual dry spell might be coming to an end soon also. She swallowed hard at that thought and realized she seemed to not have enough saliva to even do that. For the first time in her life she really felt like she needed a drink, and not herbal tea, either.
He walked up to her, took both of her hands in his, and smiled, all while she struggled to not pass out.
"Hi. You look great.” He looked down at her from a height that must be at least six-foot-two compared to her five-foot-eight.
"Thanks,” she said shakily. He looked great, too, but not because he had gone to any length at all to do so. He was in the same clothes she'd seen him in earlier and his five o'clock shadow—make that six o'clock—had filled in, giving him a sexy, scruffy and a bit of a dangerous look. She imagined what that stubble would feel like against her cheek when he kissed her ... or between her thighs.
That image flooded her cheeks with heat and her lower abdomen with butterflies and desire. She dropped her eyes guiltily to avoid looking at him, afraid he
would know exactly what she had envisioned.
"Shall we go inside?” he asked, still smiling.
"Sure."
"They don't have a table available for hours but they said we can order some appetizers at the bar if we want. Is that okay?"
She nodded. Better actually. Less intimate, less nerve-wracking. She would have to ease her way back into this dating thing slowly.
That concept—easing into things slowly—worked until the first glass of white wine, cushioned by nothing but Oysters Rockefeller, hit her stomach and her bloodstream like a nuclear bomb. Before she ordered the wine, she should have remembered she had skipped lunch to give the tour, and then had been pulled right into the cracked tile mystery. Given that fact, the second glass she sucked down had probably been a really bad idea. But the conversation seemed to flow much smoother after each sip she took. And Rick was so cute and sexy. She felt like she could listen to him talk forever about his marketing company and how he was in New York researching the demographics and traffic patterns of visitors in Grand Central Terminal. And how he really loved classical architecture and how he wanted to learn more. She told him as much as she could without it sounding like a lecture about the history of Grand Central and he listened to every word she spoke with rapt attention. He was so smart ... and so hot.
But eventually all that wine supplemented with a few glasses of ice water to combat her dry mouth caught up with her and she could not ignore the pressure in her bladder any longer. Rising to go to the restroom, she swayed dangerously.
Rick smiled and placed one strong hand on her arm to steady her. “You all right?"
She nodded and lied. “Fine."
In the bathroom she somehow managed to not fall into the toilet, get her pants zipped and buttoned, and put on lipstick without going out of the lines, but it all seemed harder than it should have been.
Beth planted each foot precisely in front of the other in an attempt to look natural and sober as she made her way very slowly and carefully back to Rick at the bar. He took one look at her and smiled again. He had a beautiful smile. “I think I should take you somewhere and get you something solid to eat.” He ran one hand lightly down her arm and she felt a tingle run up her spine.
She nodded. “All right.” That was probably a good idea. In fact, she had a sudden craving for pizza ... as well as a few other things that only Rick could supply.
He glanced quickly at their bill, threw cash on the bar, and stood. “Ready to go somewhere else? Unless you want to stop and look at your brick again first."
She frowned for a second, not understanding, then remembered the cracked ceiling tile. The realization that she had actually forgotten about work for even a moment stopped her dead in her tracks. That had not happened in ... ever. But now that he mentioned it, she could take a peek at the readings on the motion detector...
No. She would not let work interfere with her personal life anymore. Especially not now that it looked like she might actually have the beginnings of some sort of social life. Beth smiled. “No, I'm good. The Whispering Gallery will live without me until tomorrow morning."
He frowned. “Whispering Gallery?"
Thinking that impressing a hot guy with her knowledge was not really work, she pulled his hand and led him out of the restaurant and into one corner of what was known to only serious aficionados of Grand Central trivia as the Whispering Gallery. “You stay right here and listen closely."
Feeling giddy, she turned and ran under the vaulted ceiling to the opposite corner. Glancing back to make sure he was still where she put him, she turned to face the corner and whispered, “Want to come home with me tonight?"
When drunk, things that sound so good in your head don't always seem wise once hanging out there in mid-air. Not that she was really drunk, not that she got really drunk often enough to be familiar with how it felt. But she was definitely feeling loose and freer than usual, enough so that she for once did exactly what she wanted and did not let her common sense talk her out of it. But now she had to deal with the consequences and she truly hoped her common sense would not have cause to come back and say I told you so.
Beth turned slowly and watched as Rick spun to face her. Then he smiled and was next to her in seconds. “That is quite the little party trick you have there. How does it work?"
How does it work? Those were not the four words she had been hoping for. Yes, I'd love to or please lead the way ... those would have been far better responses to her question. She retreated to more comfortable territory, lecture mode. “Um, it's the acoustics of the low ceramic arches. The sound travels along the curvature in the vaulted ceiling. It's called telegraphing."
While she felt the distinct urge to crawl under one of those ceiling tiles, he listened to her explanation, then he asked, “Does it work in both directions?"
She nodded, vowing that this would be the last time she would drink wine on an empty stomach and ask a man to come home with her.
"Stay here,” he said and planted her firmly back in the corner. Across the space he faced the corner like she had and she heard his voice, soft and so close it was as if he were standing right next to her, say, “I want nothing more than to come home with you."
Turning, she smiled when she found him back beside her again, stroking her arms through the thin sweater gently with his big strong hands. How would those hands feel on her bare skin? A bit rough but gentle probably, like his short growth of stubble, like the raspy sexy quality of his voice.
Beth managed to nervously choke out around the heart lodged firmly in her throat, “Good. Let's go."
Chapter Four
Damn. You never knew with some women. They could look all meek on the outside, but inside burned a sexual hellcat. Rick was finding that out now first hand, and he was not complaining.
The subway ride from the train station to her stop had been uneventful. She'd held his hand, but kept blushing and looking away, so shy he was convinced they would be going back to her apartment for herbal tea and maybe some PBS on television. That would have been fine with him, though. Not only was she an interesting woman to talk to—he didn't usually go for the cerebral types and it proved to be a nice change—but he might also be able to learn something useful about the behind the scenes workings within Grand Central that would help him with his assignment.
Then in the elevator, somewhere between the lobby and the fifth floor, she got an undeniably interested look in her eye. Rick leaned in for a quick peck on the lips, just to warm her up a bit and maybe pave the way for more later, when he suddenly found his head held firmly in her grasp, her womanly body pressed tightly up against the front of him and her mouth open and searching his. He let his tongue meet hers and tasted her wine mingled with his beer.
What had started out as a fairly innocent kiss pretty much denigrated into an all out groping make-out session for three more floors until the elevator binged and the door opened onto the hallway of her floor. Luckily none of Beth's neighbors were around because neither one of them was in any shape to see anyone.
He released her reluctantly at first, until he realized the sooner they got inside her apartment, the sooner they could be out of their clothes and he could be inside of her. That possibility looked more and more like a definite with each passing second. That was a good thing because he really wanted this woman. He wanted her so badly he was hard enough to feel his pulse throbbing in his cock.
Rick looked on as she struggled to get the key into the door and flipped the two sets of locks while he imagined how smoothly he would slide into her over and over again. She was probably a missionary position-type girl. That would be fine to start. Then he would have to show her the virtues of a few other more interesting positions. Damn, she was tall and slender, but had all the right curves a woman should. She would look fine straddling him, or on her knees, or up against a wall, or bent over a desk ... the mind boggled at the possibilities.
And then he did not have to imagine because they were in
side. She had dumped her giant bag on the floor and was on him again, her mouth on his, her hands roaming over his chest. He kicked the door shut behind them as she clawed at his jacket to get it off of him. He broke free. “Hold on, baby. I'll do it."
Rick flung the jacket onto the floor on top of her bag and looked around. “Which door is the bedroom?"
The slightly tipsy and very horny hellcat disappeared as quickly as she had come as Beth got a look of panic on her face at his question. He could have kicked himself in the ass for asking it so soon. Time for damage control. Rick brushed one hand lightly up her cheek while running the other up her arm. “What's wrong, baby?"
"I don't usually do this."
He laughed. Of that fact he was fairly certain, which made the recent turn of events on this date even more amazing. “I know, baby. You're not the type. I could see that the minute I laid eyes on you."
"Really?"
He nodded and took one small step closer, bringing his body close to, but not quite touching, hers. “Really. But the fact is I like you, and I think you like me..."
She nodded and he continued, fairly confident he could charm the pants right off of her with a bit of work. “And even good girls are allowed to be bad once in a while you know. It doesn't make you less of a person, and believe me, it can be a lot of fun. I promise."
Cradling her head in one hand, he lowered his mouth to the pulse in her neck and ran his tongue gently down her throat. He felt the tremor run through her. God, she was easy to rile. He wet the whorls of her ear slightly and let his breath touch the same spot. She actually moaned softly. All of this foreplay was getting to him, too. He leaned in and pressed against her so she could not possibly miss feeling exactly how aroused he was. Her breath caught in her throat.
He let one hand stray down her side to the waist of her pants. He wanted them gone, but he didn't want to move too fast and scare her. Rick turned her so his groin stayed nestled happily against her hip but his hand could dip inside the front of her pants. Hearing Beth's breathing change again, he slid his hand lower, knowing once he got his hands on her clit, she would be his for the taking. He held his own breath as his fingers slid under the elastic of her panties, lower to the rough triangle of curls he could only imagine would be a slightly darker blonde than the hair he had just released from its bun and tucked behind her ear, to finally encounter the slick hot wetness of her slit. That made him smile. She was already wet. She wanted him. Her head may be fighting it, but her body was ready and waiting.