Keeping Secrets

by Lisa Eugene

  She nodded quietly. “Will you stay for dinner?”

  “No,” I replied, standing. I brushed dirt off my butt. “I have to head back to the city. The trains are running off schedule tonight and I don’t want to get back too late.”

  “Yeah, the three-oh-four had some delays at Penn Station and threw everything off. Hopefully they’ll be back on schedule by the morning, especially with the rain coming. Otherwise the morning commute will be awful.” Her voice faded as she headed inside the house.

  I smiled, wondering how she knew so much about the train schedule when she hadn’t taken one in years.

  Pausing a moment to tilt my head up to the sky, I squinted my eyes. She was right about the rain. Gray clouds hovered overhead.

  A storm was coming.

  I couldn’t help thinking about eyes that were the same blustery color.

  Dex

  Henry pushed his head through the partially opened door to my office. I didn’t have to look up from the computer to know that a big grin fattened his face.

  “You busy?”

  “Yup.”

  In less than three seconds, his ass was warming my desk. I had a client visiting from out of town. Henry had been out of the office all day, helping him scout out the hot spots.

  “I know you’re dying to know how my day went.”

  “Not really.”

  He was the best schmoozer I knew. I had no doubt that my client had been well entertained.

  Tossing a leg over his knee, he shimmied on the desktop, settling in. God, I hoped this wasn’t going to take long.

  “Well, it all started this morning when I awoke to the dreadful sound of my alarm clock. I swear that thing—”

  “Can we please skip ahead?” I rested my elbows on the desk and leaned forward. “Was Mr. Rogers happy?”

  He inhaled an indignant huff and gave a crisp tug on the lapels of his sports jacket. “Of course. He was with moi. Besides, I saved him from having to look at your sour puss all day long.”

  One thing I really hated was wining and dining clients. That was where Henry came in. I wasn’t exactly a people person. I hated all the kiss-ass, schmoozing bullshit. It just wasn’t me. I’d rather deal with numbers, figures, and calculations. They were predictable, dependable, uncomplicated—unlike people.

  “I think he did me the favor,” I mumbled.

  “Oh, don’t be such an ogre.” Henry dismissed me with a wave. “Did you get the info for the claim? The adjuster is waiting for a call back. They can send someone to the service shop as early as Saturday.”

  I reached for my wallet and dug inside, pulling out the folded copy of Alexa’s license and handing it to him. “This is all I have so far. I’ll get the rest later.”

  My license had been tucked into the copy and it slipped to the desk as Henry unfolded the sheet.

  “You mean you didn’t get the insurance info?” he asked, picking up my license and studying it.

  “Nope.”

  “I can have the insurance company call her father directly, but he wasn’t very forthcoming.”

  “I’d rather deal with her. She’s getting back to me.”

  His gaze shifted to me, brows raised incredulously. “You mean you let your hit-and-run go without a thorough debriefing? You’re getting soft. I would’ve at least expected that you’d tie her to a pole and whip her until you got what you needed.”

  I chuckled at the look on his face. Certainly that’s what I’d contemplated doing as I’d stewed outside the hospital. I’d been pissed at the presumed deception.

  “I’m not that much of an ogre, am I?” I leaned back in my chair and scrubbed a hand across my chin, grudgingly admitting that Alexa’s words had struck a nerve. “Am I really an asshole?”

  He paused for a moment of intensive deliberation, pursing his lips and studying the ceiling. I exhaled my irritation.

  “Well,” Henry finally said. “You are certainly more ogre than asshole. Though there’re times that the latter fits nicely.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “As I was saying…”

  “Did the shop give you an estimate? Make sure you speak to Lenny. He’s a straight shooter. I’ll give him a call too, but I’ll be tied up in meetings all day tomorrow before my flight in the afternoon.”

  I was considering an investment opportunity in L.A. A pharmaceutical company was about to go public and I’d been meaning to check it out. They’d been working on a new drug for brain tumors, and I couldn’t help but take an interest in what they had to say.

  “No estimate yet,” Henry replied, distracted again by my license. Any minute now, I expected him to start ripping on my mug shot.

  “I can certainly see how she got away,” he drawled. “You always were a sucker for a pretty face. And Alexa Kennedy is very pretty.”

  “What?” I cursed, leaning forward and plucking the license from his fingers. I narrowed my eyes, studying the small photo of Alexa on her license. “The guy in the copy shop had been in such a hurry to get us out that he must’ve switched the IDs.”

  I stared at the compelling blue eyes set in regal features with high cheekbones, a straight, dainty nose, and lush lips that could make a man think of incredibly sinful things. Her unique blend of earthy sexuality and tender vulnerability was appealing, but it was the unexpected fire beneath that exterior that pulled you in like a magnet. Pretty? No, Alexa Kennedy wasn’t pretty. She was stunning. As a man I could appreciate that. As the owner of the car she’d just wrecked, I had more pressing matters to be concerned with.

  “I’m heading home,” Henry announced, finally vacating my desk. “I see she doesn’t live too far from me. Should I drop off her license and retrieve yours?”

  I slid the license back in my wallet. “No, I’ll take care of it.”

  “Fine. I’ll see you when you get back from L.A. Remember, the car show at the Javitz Center is coming up in about two weeks. It’s the Saturday after you get back.”

  I groaned plaintively.

  “I thought you wanted to go.” He turned to me.

  “Yeah, I do, but who else is going?”

  “Just me and Tom. I swear. But would it be so bad if I invited some friends? Would it kill you to socialize?”

  “Yes. It would,” I said firmly. “And this better not be a set-up. No psychic-seeing friend who just happens to show up in sequins and six-inch stilettos, toting a Ouija board.”

  A hand landed on his hip. “Puhleeze. The men I hang out with dress way better than that.”

  I laughed. “Them, I don’t mind so much. It’s the crazy women you try to set me up with. I just can’t deal. I’m done dating.”

  Henry blew out an exasperated breath. “You’d think with your looks and my superior intellect we’d have better luck finding you a woman.”

  “I find tons of women.”

  Rolling his eyes, he said, “I mean for more than bumping uglies.” His voice gentled. “They don’t all leave, you know. I know what you went through with Amanda but I worry about you. You used to be such a fun guy with a great sense of humor. That man is still hiding in there somewhere.”

  “Please don’t start…” I turned back to the computer, intent on putting this conversation to an end.

  “Fine. It’ll just be you, me, and Tom at the car show, then. You’ll be, once again, the meat in the middle of our gay sandwich.”

  I gave a mock shiver. “You know I don’t like the sound of that.”

  He grinned. “Puhleeze. You should be so lucky.”

  Chapter Six

  Alexa had said she’d be back by eight thirty and it was almost nine now. I checked my watch again, thinking I’d give it five more minutes. I didn’t like the idea of traveling without my license, but if worse came to worse, I’d have Henry make the exchange and overnight it to me. I wondered if Alexa had realized the mistake. Probably not, or I would’ve heard from her.

  It was an unusually warm night for September, everyone taking advantage of the weather bef
ore winter set in and kicked our asses. A few people strolled out of Alexa’s building, walking dogs that could’ve passed for cats. A group of young boys played a rough ball game on the sidewalk, and then there was me—impatiently waiting and trying to stay out of their way. Meetings had kept me busy most of the day, and I kept seesawing between tired and hungry.

  I was about to call it a night when I spotted Alexa walking toward the building, staring straight ahead, her features pensive. She could’ve been contemplating world peace, or working on the cure for cancer. Knowing what little I did about her, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was either. Or both. She was sharp as hell.

  Instead of the androgynous scrubs I’d seen her in yesterday, she wore a baggy sweater covered by a jean jacket that looked several sizes too big. It was hard to tell what kind of curves hid beneath her loose jeans. She looked tiny in her clothes, almost as if she was trying to get lost in them. Her expression didn’t change when she saw me, but apparent curiosity tilted her head and put a small wrinkle in her forehead.

  Pushing off the wall, I shoved my hands deep in my pockets. She stopped right in front of me, still looking thoughtful.

  “You need to let me know if this is going to become a habit.”

  I smiled. “So that I’m not kept waiting?”

  “So that I can start scoping out the back doors.”

  I tried hard not to smile again, realizing it had never required such effort. Alexa, though, still had that troubled look in her eyes—a look that said all was wrong with the world. It was the look I’d seen the evening of the accident, a shaky vulnerability, only this time without the panic.

  “Is everything okay?”

  I wasn’t buying the nod. Something was on her mind. She adjusted her glasses higher on her nose.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you spoke to my father?”

  I paused, studying her. Perhaps her visit home hadn’t gone well.

  “I didn’t. My PA did. That’s how I found you. And apart from divulging where you work, your father wasn’t very helpful. Henry then checked with the hospital and found out your schedule.”

  She dug through her bag, face pinched with a frown. The group of boys playing ball made a pass and almost ended up on top of us. Taking her elbow, I guided her closer to the entrance of her building.

  “I guess your father wasn’t too happy?” I asked when we stopped. It was more of a statement than a question.

  Her lips twisted wryly. “You could say that.”

  “The insurance will take care of it. The damage wasn’t that bad. I’ve seen a lot worse.”

  “He’s pissed about the car…and the deductible, but he’s worried about other things too. Things I hadn’t even thought of.”

  “Like what?” The ball from the game landed a few feet away from us. Picking it up, I tossed it to a red-cheeked boy, then turned back to Alexa.

  She sighed heavily, gaze focused steadily on me.

  “Getting sued. He’s worried that he won’t have enough property damage insurance to cover the repairs to your vehicle. It’s a very expensive car. I figured the repairs would be costly, but I hadn’t considered the possibility that my parents could be sued personally.”

  I’d also been concerned also about the repairs to the Spider. Once the claim was filed, I’d know what I was dealing with.

  I turned just in time to see the ball torpedoed at us again. Avoiding a concussion, I caught it and threw it back. This area was way too small for the boys to play in, but the city didn’t offer a hell of a lot of open space.

  I shoved a hand through my hair, fatigue nudging me. From the look on Alexa’s face, she was waiting to hear what I had to say. Her lips pushed out in the tiniest pout, giving her a look I was sure she hadn’t intended, a look my mind embellished.

  “Listen, we’re gonna end up in the ER if we stand here talking. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t eaten. There’s a place around the corner. Let’s grab a bite.”

  She took so long to respond that I was sure she would shoot me down. She practically chewed off her bottom lip, turning the plump flesh a rosy pink. Not wanting to stare, I turned my attention to the boys playing.

  Surprisingly, she agreed and ten minutes later we were slipping into a booth at the noisy pub around the corner. It was more bar than restaurant, and had an active crowd. Thankfully, we were seated in the back where it was quieter. The waitress greeted us with two laminated menus and a friendly smile.

  “What’ll it be to drink, Sweets?” she asked me with a wink, her head bopping to the house music pumping through the speakers.

  I ordered a beer and looked to Alexa. She took her time studying the menu then ordered a Diet Coke before the waitress took off.

  Sitting motionless, the stick of her spine translated her unease. She’d shrugged out of her jean jacket, revealing an open hoodie over the red sweater. She seemed out of place, uncomfortable, smothered by not just all her layers, but by the gregarious atmosphere itself. Trying to make conversation, I asked, “You come here a lot? It’s right around the corner from you.”

  Her brows jumped up behind the round glasses. I wondered if she really needed the specs that were way too big for her face, or if she was hiding behind them.

  “Med school doesn’t leave much time for hanging out at bars.”

  I jogged my gaze around the room. “A shame, really. I expected to find your picture up there.”

  I jerked a thumb to the framed photos lining the wall. It featured a row of drunk, sloppy smiles under a sign that read: Wall of Fame. Best Bar Dancers.

  She shook her head in adamant denial, but the corners of her lips tilted up. “If my picture were up there, it would be the ‘Wall of Shame’.”

  I responded with animated surprise. Shock, even. “You mean you don’t dance on bar tops?”

  “I don’t dance—period.”

  “Why not?”

  Amusement sneaked into her beautiful blue eyes. I liked the way they seemed to twinkle at the start of every thought. “It’s not a pretty sight. I look like a chicken having seizures.”

  I mulled that over, then laughed at the images forming in my head. The waitress returned with our drinks and took our order. Alexa surprised me by ordering the cheeseburger special, which came with onion rings and fries. After her Diet Coke, I would’ve pegged her for a salad girl.

  The waitress left and I turned my attention back across the table, grinning as I eyeballed Alexa.

  “I don’t believe you can’t dance. You seem like a girl who could shake her booty.”

  A little laugh spilled out and she looked at me like I was crazy.

  “When God doled out rhythm, I was probably in the library studying.”

  “He must’ve given you an extra serving of brains to make up for it. Your medical school is pretty tough to get into. I’d bet it’s very competitive. It’s got a great reputation.”

  She lowered her lids, quietly accepting the compliment.

  “Well, brains certainly won’t get me on that wall.”

  “I don’t know…I think you’ve got it in you. I’d bet you could give any of them a run for their money.”

  Her eyes widened and sarcasm kicked up a corner of her lips. She was not a flower that wilted from attention. If anything, boldness bloomed a healthy glow on her cheeks. “Seriously? I look like a girl who dances on top of a bar?”

  Scrutinizing her for a few moments, I pretended to do a thorough analysis. She laughed and made a silly face at me across the table.

  “No, but they say it’s always the quiet ones.” I shook a knowing finger, teasing again, looking in her eyes for that twinkle. “I bet you’re the kind of girl who cranks up the music when you’re home alone, then dances and air-guitars in front of the mirror.”

  Another laugh shook out of her, ringing with denial. I watched her take a sip of her Coke. I liked her laugh, too. The sound was honest and pure. I had a feeling she gave it out in small doses.

  “Naked,” I added wickedly, an
d almost fell off the chair laughing when she snorted and soda spewed out of her mouth.

  She reddened to the color of her sweater, reaching for a napkin while my mind groped for images of her in the buff. It had trouble peeling away all the layers of clothes.

  “Definitely not me,” she said, wiping her mouth. “What about you?”

  “I don’t dance naked.” I smiled. “Often.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I don’t mean that! Did God give you a whopping serving of rhythm?”

  “So much so, he needed two plates,” I grinned, totally bullshitting. Like her, I couldn’t dance to save my life, but that, though, never stopped me when I was younger. I’d been like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever—only with all the confidence and none of the good moves. It had been some time since I’d been on a dance floor. More than five years ago, maybe. I pulled up the memory and then stuffed it deep in my brain where it belonged.

  “I guess there wasn’t any room left on the plate for humility,” she teased.

  “Nah, although according to you, there was plenty left for a scoop of asshole.”

  She gave nothing away with the look on her face. Does she really think I was an asshole? I didn’t know why that bothered me so much. Usually I didn’t give a shit what people thought of me.

  The waitress came back with trays of food and spread them on the table. Alexa appeared much more relaxed than when she’d first sat down. She attacked her French fries and I smiled. It was refreshing to be out with a woman who didn’t eat like a damn bird.

  Shoving a fry into her mouth, she squinted at me, almost in the same way I’d previously assessed her. “Don’t see much asshole left. Maybe you used it all up.” She grinned, then sobered for a moment. “I hope I didn’t offend you. I’d been joking when I said that.”

  I smiled, aware that internally I was doing an out-of-rhythm happy dance.

  “And I’d been joking when I said you needed driving lessons—well, kind of.”

  I ducked and chuckled when a fry came flying at my head. It landed on my plate and I picked it up and put it in my mouth. I stared across the table, ready for more incoming, but we just looked at each other with stupid grins on our faces. The air buzzed between us, suddenly electrified. Our gazes locked for longer than we were both comfortable with, and awkwardly, we shifted our attention back to our food.