Beneath the Surface (3 page)

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. All 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.”

The kid’s smirk widened. “Rick, huh? I’m Robby, one of Beth’s interns. That’s Lyssa over there. She’s the other intern for this year. So, uh, Beth’s never mentioned you before. When and where’d you two meet?”

Rick raised a brow over the obvious fishing expedition. “I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it.” He shrugged, not wanting to give the kid any information just on principal.

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 Grand Central Terminal and enjoy the company of a pretty woman at the same time.

Unfortunately, he had to get this kid’s attention off 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 he did not need. Not while undercover and investigating a case that could blow this city wide open.

“So what’s the big deal with this cracked brick? Can’t you just replace it with a new one?” Rick attempted a diversionary tactic, trusting that these geeky conservation students would be even more into talking about old stuff than gossiping.

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 architect Rafael Guastavino. Dude, you can’t just replace it.”

Bingo. Rick didn’t know who this architect guy was or why his tiles were so important, but he smothered a smile at his own cleverness because Robby was now totally off the subject of him and Beth and on to another topic altogether.

He decided to push the kid a little farther over the edge. “Oh. Well then just throw some grout or clear caulk or glue or something on the crack.”

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’s 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 toward 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 later 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. She totally did not have a poker face.

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 didn’t 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 at all. 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 like. I’m finding Grand Central very interesting and that way 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 if anything comes up, but unless things change let’s plan on meeting here at the Oyster Bar around sixish?”

“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 formfitting 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 didn’t have time to run home and change before her date. Date. Even just that word made her heart jump. Luckily her second home, 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 couldn’t 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 nearly 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 to accept Rick’s invitation to the Oyster Bar.

After 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. When she saw Rick and noted how his gaze 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 didn’t seem to 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.

Rick walked up to her and took both of her hands in his. He smiled easily, 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 sixfoottwo compared to her fivefooteight.

“Thanks.”

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. His five o’clock shadow—make that six o’clock—had filled in giving him a sexy, scruffy and a bit 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 gaze away from his, afraid he would know exactly what she had envisioned.

“Shall we go inside?”

“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?”

Beth 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.

She listened to 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 couldn’t ignore the pressure in her bladder any longer. Rising to go to the restroom, she swayed dangerously.

“You all right?” Rick smiled and placed one strong hand on her arm to steady her.

“Fine.” She nodded and lied.

In the bathroom she managed to not fall into the toilet. She even 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 hadn’t happened in…ever. But now that he mentioned it, she could take a peek at the readings on the motion detector.

No. She wouldn’t 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.”

“Whispering Gallery?” He frowned.

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 midair. 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 for once she did exactly what she wanted and didn’t let her common sense talk her out of it.

But now she had to deal with the consequences of acting on a whim. 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. “So, 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.