by Lynn Patrick
When Melissa started to leave also, Rafe followed her closely. “No more work for today. Hey, how about letting me take you home? As long as it won’t offend you, that is. I know I came on a little strong the last time.”
“I live only a short distance away—at Twenty-second and Eighth Avenue.”
“Please. You’ll be doing a poor abused father a favor. I need to get out.” He laughed down at her, the expression crinkling the corners of his dark eyes and revealing even, white teeth.
Standing so near him, she once again became aware of his subtle, seductive cologne. Without thinking, she nodded yes.
By the time they reached her apartment building in Chelsea, it was early evening. Light snowflakes drifted down from the dark December sky.
“It was nice enough of you to help me pick up some groceries,” Melissa commented as they climbed the winding stairway. “You didn’t have to carry them up too.”
“Whew!” Rafe huffed, setting down the shopping bags on the fourth-floor landing. “Only two more flights to go. My God, how do you do this every day? Too bad you’re not a real fairy. Maybe you could have flown us up.”
“I can take the bags from here.”
“No, no,” Rafe said, resuming his burden. “I need more exercise anyway. And these aren’t very heavy.”
Although she didn’t say so aloud, Melissa was secretly pleased he’d insisted on accompanying her. She was reluctant to give up the warm camaraderie they’d enjoyed since leaving his town house. Could she get him to stay for a cup of tea? Used to relative luxury, would he look down on the way she lived? Surely he could appreciate how she’d fixed up the place and kept it clean.
Still, she experienced a sudden thrill of nervousness when she inserted her keys. The police lock, a huge metal bar that leaned against the door, made a scraping sound as she swung the door open. She switched on the kitchen’s overhead bulb by pulling its string. A round white Japanese lantern shaded the light’s glare.
“Where shall I put these?”
“On the counter.”
“That’s a counter?” Rafe stared at the painted wooden planks on top of the bathtub that was placed along one wall of the tiny room.
“As long as I’m not taking a bath. This is one of those old buildings that was originally erected without bathroom plumbing. The tub was added later, along with a water closet. See?” Melissa opened a door to reveal the toilet. She’d painted the tall, narrow space a soft rose and covered its six-foot window with a narrow bamboo blind. “You can catch a great view of the Empire State Building from here.”
“How entertaining.”
“I like it,” Melissa stated, trying not to be defensive. “I’ll show you the rest of the place. It’s a railroad apartment, with one room opening right into another.” She led him through the other three small rooms, turning on the lanterns she’d rigged up as lights. The last room fronted the street six floors below and also featured a magnificent view of the Empire State Building. Tonight its glowing lights were somewhat dimmed by the steady descent of snow.
“I grew some flowers out on the fire escape last summer.” Could she really expect him to admire her ingenuity? Should she ask him how he liked the way she’d painted the rooms in soft white and decorated them with careful choices of secondhand furniture? Would he be impressed that she’d refinished the rocking chair herself and made a tablecloth for the cheap card table? Did he appreciate the delicate touches she’d added—dried flowers and pretty stones, candles of every shape and size imaginable? If so, would it mean he really liked her?
“Very nice,” he said noncommittally, looking around. “I haven’t seen a place like this in a long time.” When she raised her brows in question, he explained, “I have some friends who used to live in a similar apartment in the East Village.” On their way back to the kitchen, he eyed her futon mattress lying on the floor. “And I haven’t seen furniture of this sort since I was in college.”
“Furniture of what sort?”
“The kind that’s impermanent, lightweight.”
“Oh? Do you think I should carry a sleeper sofa up to the sixth floor?”
“You’ve got a point there.” He grinned as he walked over to her bags of groceries. “I’ll help you put these away.”
“No, you’ve done enough. Why don’t you let me fix you some tea?”
“Can you get near enough to the stove to do it?” he wondered, examining the small, old appliance that sat behind one end of the tub.
“I can get in to use the burners. I just can’t open the oven door completely.”
“Luckily, you’re tiny.” For a moment, he raked his gaze over her appreciatively. “You’re lovely too. I neglected to tell you that when I was taking your pictures today and teased you by calling you cute.” He moved closer, speaking softly. “Actually, Melissa, I don’t have time for tea. But I’d like to look at your ears before I go. I didn’t get the chance before. Are they really pointed?” Placing his hands in her hair, he caressed the silky strands and gazed deeply into her eyes.
They moved naturally into a kiss, Melissa fitting neatly into his hard, compact body. His lips warm and tender, he explored her own with soft pressure. Closing her eyelids tightly and murmuring deep in her throat, she laced her arms securely about his neck, trying to get even closer. Rafe responded by kissing her more deeply.
When their tongues touched, sweet sensations spiraled out from her center and she felt lost, as if she had fallen into a magical realm of airy darkness. Were they both falling? Briefly, Melissa envisioned herself and Rafe drifting high above the lighted city, gliding softly through the night like snowflakes on the wind. Would her fragile wings be enough to break their steep descent?
His warm hands moving up her sides awakened her. She gasped as his palms cupped the underside of her breasts, then moved back to her waist. Gently, he held her away from him. “I think I’d better go,” Rafe said huskily. “Or I’m never going to get home for dinner tonight.”
“Perhaps you should.” Her initial disappointment turned quickly into appreciation. This man was definitely not the playboy she’d first thought.
“It’s not that I want to leave,” Rafe told her sincerely. “Can I see you again?”
“I’d like that.”
They moved apart awkwardly, Melissa not knowing what to do with her hands. Finally, she clasped them behind her back. Would that keep her from reaching out to touch him again?
“I’ll call you,” he promised.
When he left, Melissa leaned over the railing of the stairwell and watched him descend six flights to the main floor below. He waved up to her, then disappeared. Humming to herself, she reentered her apartment and stood quietly for a while, looking out of the front room’s tall windows. It was snowing harder now. Perhaps by morning New York would be transformed into a lovely winter wonderland. Something wonderful had already transpired for Melissa. Was her casual wish for romance—jokingly expressed to Clarence—really about to come true? Would the negative image she’d had of Rafe dissolve into one of exactly the kind of man she was looking for?
“Once upon a time,” she began. “There was a handsome prince and a beautiful fairy. And it was winter and the snow was falling all around…” Melissa laughed. She couldn’t help herself. “And then they fell in love and eventually they got married and lived happily ever after in a beautiful castle that was decorated with snowflakes in winter and flowers in summer.” Wasn’t that the way all fairy tales went?
Unfortunately, though, life was not a fairy tale. Willing herself to be more serious, Melissa realized she was making a lot of playful assumptions considering she and Rafe hardly knew each other and hadn’t even gone out yet.
What if he never called? Frowning, she quickly pushed the negative thought aside. They’d felt so right together, just as their sizes made kissing thoroughly enjoyable. She’d always been annoyed when a man had to pull her up on the tips of her toes in order to kiss her, sometimes lifting her completely off he
r feet. Rafe Damon was just about perfect.
Almost skipping toward the kitchen, her holiday spirits surging, Melissa sang a Christmas carol as she fixed herself some dinner.
Chapter Four
“‘So the bearded troll made his home under the Brooklyn Bridge, just as he’d threatened to do,’” Melissa said in a low tone, widening her eyes as she peered around at the enthralled group of seven-and eight-year-old children. “‘He made everyone who wanted to use the bridge pay a very costly toll.’ That means people had to pay a lot of money,” she explained.
“What did he do if they didn’t have any money?”
“Why, he would frighten them, of course,” Melissa told the blond girl who had already put her thumb back in her mouth. “He was a very mean and greedy troll.”
She ducked her head to read from the open storybook in her hands, lifting her eyes every sentence or so to make sure the children were paying attention. She had no need to worry; they were a captive audience, hanging on to every dramatic word until the conclusion of the story.
“‘And so, when he tried to scare the old lady, the troll barely escaped being run over by a speeding car. “It’s not safe! It’s not safe!” he yelled as he stomped up and down, trying to shake the bridge so it would sway. That’s when the troll decided to return to his home in the big hollow tree in Central Park where he would mine gold to make fine jewelry like his ancestors before him.’” Melissa closed the book. A movement caught her eye, and she saw Rafe watching her from a short distance away. “Did anyone learn something from this story?”
“I know!” yelled a dark-haired boy as he wildly waved his hand. “Don’t play in traffic or you might get runned over.”
The girl next to him punched his arm and told him, “It’s supposed to be nobody likes you if you’re mean.”
“Naw! There’s gold buried in Central Park!” shouted another child.
“You have a very good imagination, Anthony,” Melissa said, laughing. “But if there was gold in Central Park, someone would have found it long ago.” Trying not to let Rafe’s presence interfere with her work, Melissa continued the dissection of the story and was amused by the diverse opinions of her young audience. As always, she led a discussion meant to inspire them to want to know more, which meant developing reading skills. “Now, who wants to check out this book?”
“Me!”
“Me!”
Luckily, Melissa had more than one copy. Small hands grabbed those as well as other books the children could take home. “You all have your library cards?” Heads nodded solemnly as several reached into their pockets to find them. “All right, go ahead, but no pushing in line.”
The children waved as they headed for the checkout desk.
“’Bye, Miss Ryan.”
“See you next week.”
“Enjoy your stories,” Melissa said, waving back.
“A troll, huh?” Rafe sauntered forward. “Nothing to say about fairies today?”
“I use any kind of story that I think is appropriate for the group and that will go with the books available on a particular week. The children seem to enjoy the variety.”
“I enjoy fairies myself,” Rafe said, his dark eyes roaming her shoulders as though he were looking for her wings. When he moved closer Melissa laughed a little nervously and shied away.
“I have clean-up detail before I leave,” she told him, stooping to pick up a stray piece of paper. “It will just take me a few minutes. I have to put these books back on the shelves.”
“No hurry. I enjoy watching you flit around.”
That statement, of course, made her more nervous. Melissa was already torn about going out with the man. She’d convinced herself Rafe was no playboy and that he had more going for him than that, but how could she be sure? He’d wasted no time in calling her, doing so from the deli down the street right after leaving her place the night before. Last night she’d thought the call flattering. Now she was wondering if Rafe wasn’t moving a little too fast.
When they walked out of the Midtown library, she thought her suspicions were confirmed when he suggested they grab an early dinner at an intimate little restaurant down the street.
“I—I’m not really hungry yet. Couldn’t we walk around for a little while and talk or something? Maybe we could eat later.”
“Anything you want,” Rafe told her, his smile making her pulse flutter. Melissa clasped her hands behind her back as they walked down the street and was pleasantly surprised when he talked about her work. “You were really something in there, you know. You had those kids eating out of your hand and loving every minute.”
“That’s what M.R.F. is all about.” He looked puzzled, so she explained, “Making Reading Fun. It’s a new federally funded reading enrichment program that encourages kids to read early. Right now I’ve got five-to eight-year-olds, but a few of the other teachers start with kids as young as two.”
“They teach two-year-old kids to read?”
“Not exactly. What they do is develop reading readiness.”
As they walked on, Melissa found herself relaxing in Rafe’s company, so that by the time they got to Fifth Avenue, she’d told him all about her hectic work schedule, running to two libraries a day on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Saturday while playing sugarplum fairy on Monday, Thursday, and Sunday, and about the roommate who’d eloped the month before, making both jobs necessary to Melissa’s survival.
“I really love my job with M.R.F., but one part-time job doesn’t pay the bills. If I’m lucky, one of these days I’ll find a fulltime position that will give me the same satisfaction.”
She’d grown so comfortable with Rafe she hadn’t even noticed exactly when he’d taken her arm, but the gesture was comforting, especially when she slipped on a patch of ice and he prevented her from falling. Then his grip tightened. Imagining she could feel the warmth of his hand right through her thick down jacket made Melissa feel more jittery than secure, however.
They window-shopped down the avenue, eventually reaching Rockefeller Center. Continuing past the angels along the promenade, they headed for the ice-skating rink with its golden guardian, the gigantic statue of Prometheus, and the towering Christmas tree above and behind it. Carefully putting some space between herself and Rafe, Melissa admired the colored lights on the tree and watched the skaters on the frozen plaza below with a touch of nostalgia.
“I used to ice-skate on a frozen pond on our farm when I was a kid. I hadn’t realized I missed it.”
“We could skate now, if you like.”
Glancing at his expensive leather coat and wool slacks and at her own full apricot-colored skirt, she laughed. “I don’t think either one of us is appropriately dressed. Why don’t we plan to skate some other time when we’re better prepared? Maybe we could bring your kids.”
Rafe smiled at the suggestion. “Really? You wouldn’t mind taking the kids with us sometime?”
“Really. I’m from a close family, myself. As a matter of fact, I taught my two little brothers to skate—well, they’re not so little now, and they might not admit I taught them anything, but I did.”
“Gretta and Hank would love it if we took them skating. So would I, Melissa. You don’t know how thrilled I am to meet a woman who doesn’t mind my family ties.”
“I guess I miss my own,” she admitted.
They watched the skaters a little longer, Melissa drifting comfortably closer to Rafe as he put his arm around her shoulders. Once more she experienced the feeling that they were perfect for each other; their interest in and work with kids, the way they fit together physically.
Then her mind naughtily wandered to more intimate ways in which they might fit together. Fluttering excitement crept through her, bringing on a heated blush. Melissa ducked her head away from Rafe, not wanting him to guess the sensual wanderings of her mind. But then, did she have to worry? So far, he hadn’t been in the least pushy. It seemed like those kinds of ideas were all in her own head, not in his.
“I thought you’d never mention food,” Rafe said, something like gratitude reflected in his sexy eyes, making her feel giddy. “My poor, abused stomach thanks you. I was so busy this morning that I didn’t have time to grab lunch. I was half-starved when I picked you up at the library.”
Melissa flushed guiltily, remembering it was her paranoia about his questionable intentions that had prevented Rafe from eating. Now it was she who had the ideas. She immediately agreed to go to a restaurant several blocks away.
While they ate it was Rafe’s turn to talk about his job and how he’d apprenticed and then become partners with his father. “When he died Louise said she didn’t want to be alone. So we renovated the whole place and moved in with her.”
Melissa was sure “we” included Nicole as well as the children. It made her brave enough to ask, “Why does your ex-wife live in California?” What she really wanted to know was why he, rather than his ex-wife, had custody.
To her frustration he avoided saying anything of substance. “Nicole is still trying to find herself. She took a job in California last summer, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it doesn’t last and she moves on. She’s always liked changes, especially when they’re unexpected.”
“Sometimes the unexpected is fun, but I guess it must be hard on the kids.”
“Nicole loves Gretta and Hank as much as I do.”
From the closed look on his face, she could tell the subject was better left alone, but the fact that he didn’t make disparaging remarks about his ex-wife made Rafe a pretty nice man in Melissa’s opinion. That fact, added to his more obvious physical attraction, appealed to her, and yet she was reluctant to rush things. So when they finished their meal and he would have flagged down a taxi, she suggested they walk to her place.
Once on their way, Melissa couldn’t stop herself from anticipating the delicious things that could happen when they got there. This time she chastised herself for such imaginings much more reluctantly. It wasn’t as if she had similar thoughts about every man she dated. To Melissa, Rafe was the unexpected.