42nd & Lex (11 page)

The waitress picks up our order sheets and
tops off Max’s tea before disappearing again. I try to steer the conversation
away from anything that might make me the center of attention until our food
arrives. “How late were you at Charlie’s?”

“We waited until closing for you to come
back for your coat. I tried to call you before we left, but you didn’t answer,”
Linds says. I automatically reach into my purse to check my phone for her
missed call. I haven’t checked it since yesterday after work and there are four
missed calls. The waitress returns with our food and nearly knocks over my tea at
the exact moment I decide to retrieve the Evora’s key from my pocket and stash
it in my purse. Instinctively I reach out to steady the cup, key in hand.

I jerk my hand back down under the table but
it’s too late. Brooks’ eyes are about to pop out of his head. Lotus has a very
distinctive key design, definitely nothing like your typical domestic models.
If you know enough about Lotus to recognize an unreleased model, you’d
recognize the key.

“Oh wow, look at the time. We better eat
fast.” I’m trying once again to change the subject. “How are your salmon rolls,
Max?”

He looks confused, obviously noticing
Brooks’ bug-eyed routine, but responds anyways. “Great. How’s yours?”

“Wonderful,” I smile. “So who ended up with
my coat? I’m sorry I didn’t answer Linds. I don’t think I had good cell
coverage where I was.” Now that is a lie as the five floors above Lucan’s
apartment housed radio, television, and cellular phone transmitters. There is
probably no better place in the city to get coverage. 

“It’s in my office. Wait, where did you get
that coat?”

Everyone is so concerned with my clothing
today. I notice Brooks trying to get a look in my purse as he wolfs down his
California rolls. I hate being the center of attention. It makes me want to cop
to everything, just to get it off my chest, but I know that will only lead to
more questioning.   

“It’s old. I’ve had it.” Lindsey doesn’t
look convinced but doesn’t push the subject and we move on to other mindless
topics of conversation.

I am relieved when the waitress finally
brings our checks. God, don’t let me pull out the Enclave card instead of my
Visa, I think. Max will know straight away what it is. Brooks leans towards me
again, eyeing the opening of my purse. I cannot resist the urge to give him a
knowing smile.   

Back upstairs after lunch I am glad to be in
the quiet retreat of my office. I ask Max not to disturb me and to hold all
calls for at least an hour. My brain decompresses while I check my email and
Facebook. My next appointment isn’t until four o’clock so that gives me at
least three hours before anyone will want or miss me. The thought is barely out
of my head when my inbox sounds the arrival of a new message from none other
than vmpr1479. Who did he think he was fooling with that email? I open it. 

Dearest, Do me the honor of dinner again this evening. I
trust you enjoyed your new toy this morning. I know your friend Brooks did
.

I am not the least be surprised or offended
that he was watching me this morning. I’d keep an eye on a near stranger
borrowing my expensive toys too. I hit reply.

Luke, for someone who doesn’t eat you sure are fixated on
food
…

No, not funny. Delete, delete, delete…

Lucan, My answer is yes, so long as I’m not the main
course
…

Delete…That probably isn’t too funny
either. 

Lucan, yes. When and Where?
 

Simple, forward, and to the point. I hit
send. My phone vibrates in my purse. There is a new text from a number I do not
know: “
My apartment.
” It has to be Lucan. I touch the number on the
screen to dial it.

“Shouldn’t
you be working?” he chides. I melt at the sound of his voice.

“Probably, but you are a better
distraction.” The words fall causally out of my mouth as if we actually know
each other. “Thank you for the suit and the coat. But how exactly does one get
suits and cars that are not available for sale yet to present as gifts?”

“You’re welcome, love.” I swear the amps are
coming through the phone. His voice is intoxicating and I don’t care he’s left
my question unanswered. “I can expect you for dinner around seven? Or later if
you need to work.”

Work. What is work? Oh right, work. “No, seven
is good, or earlier. No one works late on days after a happy hour. It’s all we
can do to suffer the hangovers until lunch.”

“Come up whenever you’re free. I’ll be
there. I hope you like Italian.” He hangs up before I can answer. Ordinarily I
despise people that don’t say goodbye to end a phone call, but with Lucan, it is
sexy and James Bond-like. 

The next email in my inbox is from a dating
website. Someone has viewed my profile and left a message. No need for that
anymore. Delete. The next several emails advertise a firm retreat and in-house
training opportunity in the Poconos; the firm’s softball league is starting
again at the end of March; and Dave in accounting is missing his lunch from the
communal fridge. It’s nothing that requires my immediate attention. My mind begins
to wonder back to last night, rather early this morning.

I woke up alone, but had Lucan slept in the
bed with me? What would that feel like? No, Lucan was not that presumptuous. If
he slept at all, I am sure it was on the couch.

Picturing him on the couch reminds me of
seeing him there last night in that tight undershirt. I can’t help thinking of
the monstrous bathtub either. My imagination starts to combine the two until I
remember those warnings on hairdryers that caution against putting them in
water. Bath time with Lucan might be more than I bargained for. Still, I can’t
help but wonder what it would be like, assuming I didn’t need CPR afterwards. I
am deep in thought when Max knocks on my door.

“Your four o’clock is here,” he announces.
He has a cup of coffee in his hands. “I figured you didn’t get much sleep last
night and that you could use this.” He holds out the latte. 

“Thanks Max. You rock. You know that, right?”
I am pretty tired. Apparently, being unconscious doesn’t count towards your
recommended eight hours and I am averaging far less than that this week. I have
a feeling tonight will be more of the same.

“I know. Listen, Abri, everything is okay,
right? You seem different today. Not in a bad way, just different.” He sounds
genuinely concerned.

I want so badly to ask him what he knows but
if I’m wrong I risk outing Lucan and making an idiot of myself. I reach up and absent-mindedly
rub the side of my neck just to test his awareness. If he knows anything
remotely close to what I am dealing with this will set him off. He blanches,
ever so slightly, but continues on. 

“You had a good time last night, I guess? He
was nice?”

“Of course, Max. Everything is fine. A lot
of first date jitters and excitement, that’s all. I just haven’t had a lot of
sleep the last few nights. Really, that’s all it is.”

“Mmm Hmm.” He looks down his nose at me and
raises an eyebrow. 

“No, not that. I was up tossing and turning
the night before and last night, well… I just didn’t get a full night’s rest.” I
am about to explode. Against my better judgment, I relent. I know I can trust
Max with this little bit of dirt, that he will keep it to himself if I ask him
to. He is only a gossip queen when it doesn’t count. “Max, I didn’t go home
last night.” Oh! It felt so much better to get that off my chest.

“I know. Why else would you need a borrowed
suit and coat?” His face dares me to deny it’s true. 

“Just don’t spread it around. I’m not sure
the suit is exactly borrowed, but I only took it because I couldn’t very well
show up to work in last night’s party dress. And I left my coat at the bar and it’s
cold outside.” I suddenly feel a little defensive about Lucan’s gifts. I had
logical reasons for accepting them. Well, maybe not for the Evora…

“Don’t worry, I’m not telling,” he confirms.
“But your four o’ clock is here and he’s a doozy.”

I glance at my calendar: Jeff Hayfield,
Child Support Modification. That can’t be too bad. “Show him back.”

Max was right, Mr. Hayfield was a doozy and not
used to being told no. I could barely keep a straight face when he informed me he
would no longer be paying child support because his sixteen-year-old daughter was
dating a twenty five year old man against his wishes. My explanation that he is
required to pay unless he wants full custody goes unheeded for the better part
of our consultation. I am relieved when he finally decides he is better off
paying than fighting. A teenage daughter at home will cramp his weekend yacht
parties in the harbor. I show Mr. Hayfield out and go to see if Max is still
around. I find him dozing off at his desk. 

“Dude, it’s time to go home.”

“Dude,” he repeats, clearly annoyed. I have
no idea why he hates that word, but he does.

“I’m
going home, good sir. I need a stiff drink after Mr. Hayfield. I can’t say I’m
sad he will not be retaining me.” My mood is drastically improving with my
dinner with Lucan just moments away. Max grabs his coat and shoos me out of his
office as he turns off the light.

When we get to the elevators, I realize I have
a problem. I am not ready for Max to know where Lucan lives; he’s liable to
invite himself up to check out the place. Once we are in the main lobby I feign
remembrance of a file I want to review. Max protests a bit, but I assure him I am
capable of finding a file on my own desk. Reluctantly, he lets me go back up to
the office alone.  

I get in and press the button for the 66
^th
floor. By the time I get into the rickety elevator that will take me the last
leg of my journey, I can hear opera music playing. Lucan’s boots come into view
above my head as the elevator’s grate clears the next floor. 

“Honey, I’m home!” I call out as I clear the
last few feet before the door will open. I cringe a little. I am not one
hundred percent sure he didn’t taken my statements about staying forever in his
apartment a little too seriously the night before. “It smells great in here,
what are you cooking?”

Lucan is grinning wildly. I hope that means he
understands my joke. 

“Welcome home, love.” I guess he does.

Lucan pulls the grate back and ushers me
into the apartment. The lights are lower than the night before and there are
candles lit in various places. Romantic and not the least bit cheesy. I have
never actually had a candle lit dinner with a man before, so even if it is
cheesy I don’t care. 

My dating experiences are extremely limited.
A few brief relationships in high school and a guy senior year in college. We
did the long distance thing my first semester in law school, but the miles and
the demands of torts, con law, and property brought that to an end. He had been
nice enough but emotionally void when it really counted. He couldn’t understand
why I spent so much time with my nose in a book. Then there is the string of short-term
pseudo-relationships I’ve managed over the past few years that have barely made
it past a third date. Oh, and who could forget my foray into online dating; that
worked out well. Not. Enough of my ramblings though, I am not in the mood to
rehash failed relationships, especially not in front of a new relationship that
can hear my jaded thoughts.

“I hope you’re hungry. I made pasta,” Lucan beams.
He holds out his hand for mine and spins me around. I can tell by the way his
face contorts that he is concentrating on not amping me. “You look beautiful. I
hope you liked the suit and that it wasn’t too overboard.”

“No, it’s wonderful. Thank you.” I say once I
am steady on my feet again. No amps. But I am tingly from my own nerves. “I am
hungry, but first I have to take off these shoes.”

Lucan picks me up and carries me to the
couch. It is as if I weigh nothing in his arms. He bends down and unclasps the
buckles on my shoes. In one swift motion, I am free. “Thank you,” I giggle. “I
hate heels.”

While I can’t read his mind, I am sure he’s
asking why I wear them if I hate them so much. I ask myself the same question. He
helps me out of the jacket lays it across the back of the couch.

“May I?” He takes my left foot in his hand. The tingly vibration
of the amps is working to my advantage this time. He’s a regular shiatsu
machine.

“You don’t mind?”

“No, not at all.” His brows knit together, concentrating on
keeping the current in check. His hands are soft yet strong. “Better?” he asks
after a while. 

I look at my watch; Lucan has been working
for nearly twenty minutes. That is probably the longest foot rub I have ever
conjured out of anyone. My brain has been offline the entire time and I think
we have both enjoyed the silence. “Yes, thank you.”

“Good.” He holds out his hand again to help
me up. I small shock arcs between us and we both jump. “Oops, sorry.”

I sit down at the massive dining room table
as Lucan holds the chair out for me. There is a salad bowl and bread with a small
bowl of olive oil and balsamic vinegar already on the table. The bread was one
of my most favorite parts of dining in Rome. I start on the bread while Lucan retrieves
a giant bowl of pasta, a bottle of wine, and a beer. He sets down the pasta and
offers the drinks for my choosing. 

“I’m sure the wine goes better with the
meal.” I don’t want to offend him. Clearly amused, he sets the Coors Light down
in front of me. “Are you going to eat?”

“If
it would make you more comfortable, I will.”

“No.
No, I don’t want to force you to do something you’d rather not.”

 “I was hoping you’d say that.” Relieved, he
begins dishing some of the pasta into my bowl.