42nd & Lex (6 page)

“I hope it’s not too flashy for you. We
could always just get a cab.” For the first time Lucan seems a bit unsure. It’s
cute. 

“What, and leave this baby out on the curb? No
way. This is incredible,” I repeat aloud this time. “But what model is it? I
haven’t seen anything like it.”

“It’s
a Lotus.” He is obviously enjoying my interest.

“I know, but which one. It’s not an Elise or
Exige.” I smile back and start to walk around the car to check out the back. 

Lucan
laughs. “You know foreign sports cars?”

“I
grew up in Iowa. Boys there talk cars and heavy equipment and not much else.”

“It’s
an Evora,” he admits.

“Those are not available in the United
States, heck, anywhere, until next year!”

“True,” he says, obviously pleased I know
that. “Do you want to drive it?”

Did I want to drive it? Hell yes I want to
drive it. When was the last time I drove a car though? 

“I might be a little rusty; I haven’t driven
much since I moved here.” I think about my poor Hyundai covered in an old tarp,
sitting untouched and unloved in my grandparent’s barn. Lucan tosses me the
keys and opens the driver’s door. Jesus H. Christ, I am about to drive a car
worth more than what I make in a year and a half with a man I barely know. Fuck
it.

A sly smile creeps across my face as I round
the car. I pause to work out how to get into the tiny car in my dress and heels.
My ankles start to wobble so I place my hand on the door for balance. Lucan catches
me under the arm, steadying me against his body. My breath hitches in my
throat. I am just inches from his face, the most beautiful man I have ever
seen. The electric fence feeling hits me again as he leans in for that I hope
will be a kiss. This is fast but I don’t care.

My head is spinning and I am unable to tell
if I am standing under my own power anymore. Our lips meet and another shock goes
through me and shoots out of the top of my head and the tips of my toes all at
once. My eyes fly open and I am gripping the car door for dear life.

“Oh Abri, I’m sorry,” Lucan half whispers
putting his other arm out to steady me. His face hardens in concentration, as
if making sure I remain upright is of national importance.

“Sorry?” I am hoarse for some reason and I
cough. “What are you sorry about?” It’s not as if it is his fault my sex
starved body is reacting to his touch as if he’s a human taser. 

“I thought I could…if I just… Maybe I should
drive after all.” He points to my white knuckles gripping the top of the car
door.

“Probably so.” I hand him the keys and pry
my other hand off the door. “Just this once.”

I turn to walk around the car. Lucan is already
ahead of me opening the passenger side door. I try to wrap my head around it all
but give up. It has been a long time since a man, let alone a man like Lucan O’Reilly,
has paid attention to me and because of that fact I decide just to go along for
the ride. If only for once in my life.   

“Thank you, good sir.” I smile and I get
into the car. Sitting down grounds me and I take a few deep breaths.

The inside of the car is even more luxurious
than the outside. It has cream-colored leather seats and chrome trim. I run my
hand over the leather-covered dashboard. The controls are backlit in red and it
has what appears to be an actual computer screen in the dash. I would never
look at my poor Hyundai the same again. Before I can put on my seat belt, Lucan
is in the driver’s seat.

“So where are we going?” I ask out of
curiosity more than concern. The engine roars to life and we take off. The computer
screen announces that Radiohead’s
I Might be Wrong
is playing on the
stereo. The lyrics seem particularly poignant at this juncture. I try not to
think about how I’ve always wanted to have sex to this song. At nine o’ clock
in Manhattan, the streets are usually pretty easy travel, but tonight they are
virtually empty. I am so used to traveling by subway that I really can’t figure
out where we are heading. 

“I have something that I want to show you.” He
is staring more at me than the road. “Are you nervous?” He says it in a way that
conveys concern, not psychopathic killer. 

If I really think about it, no, I’m not
nervous. In fact, I want to tell him that any time he’s near it’s as if I’m
incapable of being nervous. I want to tell him he has awakened something in me
I had no idea existed. I want to tell him I was restless and empty until he
entered my life. But I don’t. I don’t know him well enough to say any of that,
least he deposit me and my teetering heels on the nearest sidewalk. For now, I
am just curious as to what this is and where it will take me.

“No, just curious.” I sound convincing and
calm. 

 “What
are you curious about?” His voice is melodic in my ear almost coaxing me to
answer with the truth.

“Well, I’m curious about who you are, where
we are going, why…” He is chuckling softly, his eyes sparkling. I’m thankful he
cut me off before I can continue with ‘why I feel like I’m supposed to be here
with you even though you are a stranger and I shouldn’t be riding around in
your fancy car.’

“Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. I’m just
shocked you’re not worried about being alone with me in my car. It’s not like
we really know each other.” It’s as if he’s read my mind. “So to answer your
questions, you already know my name, Lucan O’Reilly. I prefer Luke. I’m sure
Max had me thoroughly investigated this afternoon, so no need to expound on my
social or economic achievements—not that I enjoy talking about myself in that
way, mind you. I don’t have a criminal record and I don’t do drugs. I wear a
size 13 shoe and my favorite color is green. Oh, and I am not overly found of
long walks on the beach or in the rain for that matter.”

I can’t help but smile. He clearly loves
dragging this out.

“Where we are going is a slightly more in
depth answer. But just in case you do get nervous, I promise you are safe with
me.”

We turn onto what looks to be more an alley
than a street in lower Manhattan. Lucan pulls up to a building with a red
awning. There is no name on it, just the address: 726 Carlisle. The building has
a heavy black door that looks to be made of iron and no windows. Maybe this is
one of those new avant-garde restaurants where you dine in the dark laying on
beds. Whatever it is, it appears to be the only thing open on the street, not exactly
a trendy new party district.

A valet approaches the car as we stop. He
nods to Lucan and opens my door. This low sports car has me seriously
regretting my short dress and sky-high heels. A well-placed breeze tells me the
valet probably got more than he bargained for as I swing my legs out of the
car. Embarrassed, I try not to meet his eyes.   

“Welcome, madam.” The valet gives a slight
bow. He is wearing an expensive looking suit rather than the typical valet
ensemble of polo shirt/windbreaker with the company logo. He offers me his hand
as I maneuver to the edge of the seat. As our hands touch another electric
shock jolts through my limbs similar to when I kissed Lucan. This one is more
static electricity and less romantic fireworks but it still has me jumping out
of the car and away from the valet fast. I hear him suck in his breath as if
the shock has surprised him too.

“Thank you.” I smile and step onto the curb.
The look on his face sends a chill up my spine. He bows slightly then walks to
the other side of the car. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time. Lucan is at
my side before I can take my first step towards the door. Geez, that man moves
fast. 

The black iron door doesn’t have a handle, just
a place to scan an access card and camera mounted on the wall. Lucan pulls a
card key out of his pocket and swipes. It has the same red crest as the calling
card he left at my office this morning. Maybe he owns this place. The camera
whirs around to take a look at us. After a few seconds door clicks and swings open.
He ushers me inside with his hand on the small of my back. A warm tingle goes
up my spine, replacing the creepy feeling left by the valet’s touch.

The lobby is brightly lit and ornate with
marble floors, gilded light fixtures, and mirrors on the walls. There is an
empty receptionist desk and a table with large arrangement of flowers in the
center of the room and a few plush couches clustered in one corner. At the far
end of the long room is another iron looking door, although it doesn’t appear to
have a security system. I can’t tell if we are in his apartment building or an
office building. Once the outside door is closed, I can hear the sound of
glasses and silver clinking in the distance along with the din of conversation.

“This is a lot of security for a restaurant,”
I blurt out without really thinking. 

Lucan
has a shy grin on his face. “Aye, love, it is.”

I steal a glance at Lucan in the mirrors. He
catches me looking and I’m tingling again. My skin is almost humming from the
energy. I make a mental note to ask Lucan about this reoccurring phenomenon. I
am beginning to think it has nothing to do with dry air and friction.

“So
what is this place?” I ask as we cross the long room towards the other door.
Lucan opens the second door and a young woman in a slinky black dress greets us.
She is stunning with smooth, perfect skin, bouncy, shiny hair and deep green
eyes.  

“A
restaurant,” he answers wryly.

“This
way Mr. O’Reilly. Your table is ready,” she purrs, barely above a whisper.

There
are other people enjoying dinner and drinks at various tables and booths as
make our way across the room. They are all dressed to the nines and very regal
looking. I don’t recognize any celebrities, but this place must be very
exclusive indeed. We stop at an intimate looking table by a roaring fireplace. I
am grateful for the heat since I left my coat back at Charlie’s.

“Ms. Cole.” The hostess gestures towards a
chair as Lucan pulls it out for me. How does she know my name? She hands me a
menu. Lucan sits down across from me. The soft glow of the fire sets off his face.
I hope it throws a shadow over mine so he can't see me blush. A waiter appears
and places a napkin in my lap. 

“May I offer you a glass of wine, ma’am?” he
asks. Before I can reply Lucan rattles off a French sounding name and the year
1947. At least I don’t have to show my ignorance by saying white or red. I
glance at the menu; it’s completely in French. I’m screwed. I only have a
little high school Latin to work with. I hope Lucan is as proficient at ordering
dinner as he is wine.  

“What do you think, Abri?”

“Why does a restaurant need a security
system?” I blurt out; frustrated he has not directly answered my questions yet.
  

“It’s more a club that happens to have a
restaurant in it. It’s called the Enclave.”

There was no mention of a secret society in
all the online articles I read about Lucan this afternoon, no Google images of
him in bizarre regalia getting ready to sacrifice a chicken. In fact, all the
images were of him at charity events looking very delicious in black tie. I feel
like such a stalker. It’s a good thing Lucan can’t hear my thoughts, he’d
probably agree.

At least this club explains the antiquated
calling card; they both have the same red crest. A beacon to others in the know
and clever stationary to the rest of us. But Max’s reaction to the card makes
me think he knows something about this place and maybe about Lucan. I try to
think of something to say without blurting out any of my assumptions.

Lucan is looking at me the way you do when
you are waiting for someone to put something very obvious together. His stare
makes me lose my train of thought and I take a second to look down at the
indecipherable menu again before I blurt out something I will regret.

“I
can
read your thoughts,” he says.
“Uh, I mean, as long as we’re blurting things out. And no, I don’t think you’re
a stalker.”

I reach for the glass of wine that has appeared
before me during our last few sentences. I don’t recall the waiter bringing it
or pouring it but here it is. “All of them? All of the time?” I stammer. It
dawns on me that my first reaction is not to discredit his ability. I have a
gut feeling it is true but I can’t think about that now.  

“Not all the time,” he starts backtracking.
“It’s just when we are close. I was as surprised about it as you are, Abri.
It’s not something I do on a regular basis. I mean, I can’t read everyone’s
mind. I’ve never read
anyone’s
mind before, actually.”

“What am I thinking about right now?” I
challenge. It has to be something unobvious, something outside his realm of
experience with me.

“Ah, the Barbie dream house you got for
Christmas when you were four,” he says.  

“Crap,” Is all I can think to say. My mind is
darting to all the things I thought about on our trip over and in my office
this morning. Lucan breathes a sigh of relief. I guess he assumed I would freak
out. I sorta assume I would have too. “So how long is your range?” I hope close
by means face to face and not in the same area code. 

“I haven’t really tested it, but I could
hear you when I walked into Charlie’s earlier.” He looks down at the menu in
front of him. We are both doing a good job at studying the thing.  

“And all the way here in the car?” I ask
tentatively. He looks up from under his long lashes and smiles sheepishly. My
heart flutters in my chest. I can’t think of anything more embarrassing than
having my inner monolog privy to Lucan’s ears – er, mind.

“I think it’s funny you call me Lucan when I
told you to call me Luke.” He moves his hand across the table towards mine but
I jerk it back. He looks hurt as he withdraws his hand.

“There is something else I need to know
about. Why do I feel like I’ve just bitten down on a live wire every time we
touch? Well, not just you, it happened when the valet guy helped me out of the
car too. I mean, it’s been a while since I’ve had a date, and you obviously
know I’m attracted to you,” I tap the side of my head for emphasis. “But...” I
can’t find the right words to complete the sentence. Verbally or mentally.