Lift Me Higher (3 page)

“Mmm,” he breathed, trying to recapture his senses, but failing.

Monte knew that he was going too far, but it had been so long since he’d felt such an intense arousal and wanting. Torie Turner had captured his attention from the first moment that he inhaled her scent and laid eyes on her. Yet, tonight, trapped for what seemed like an eternity in the oppressive, closed space of an elevator, he’d found himself enraptured by
more than her physical beauty. Unable to see more than a faint outline of her, he’d felt his heart stroked by the sound of her melodic voice and his spirit touched by the sincerity of her personality. He’d learned in those hours that Torie’s beauty was far more than skin-deep. Not since his late wife had he clamored like a fiend just to hear every word a woman had to say. He knew that now that he’d been given the opportunity to be an audience to Torie’s thoughts, he would never be the same again.

Monte struggled with himself, trying to find the strength to disengage from the web he and Torie had spun. His arousal was undeniable, bordering on painful. His fingers, having developed a mind of their own, found the buttons of her blouse and deftly opened first one and then another. The fabric of the lace bra she wore teased his fingers. His tongue probed deeper and hers explored him just as eagerly. When he squeezed the fleshy mound of her left breast, Monte felt as if he’d fallen off a cliff, with no hopes of finding his way back to firm ground. And just when he thought that he would be lost in her sweetness forever, the spell was broken. The lights came on and the elevator jerked a couple of times before resuming its descent as if it had never been stalled.

“We’re saved,” Torie said breathlessly, her hand automatically moving to her open blouse.

She looked into Monte’s eyes and smiled. A nervous chuckle from Torie prompted one from Monte, as well.

“Here, let me help you up,” he said as the elevator neared the lobby level.

Monte rose and grasped Torie’s hand in his, pulling her to her feet. He held on to her hand for an extended moment, gave it a strong squeeze and released it just as the doors opened. They were greeted by two building security guards.

“Sir, ma’am, are you okay?”

“Yes, we’re fine. What happened?” Monte asked, retrieving his rumpled suit jacket from the floor.

“There was a blackout—most of the city and parts of Westchester were out. We contacted the fire department and let them know that we had an elevator alarm going off, but they said they’d only be able to respond to emergencies.”

“I guess two people trapped in an elevator, suspended in midair for hours, doesn’t qualify as an emergency, huh?” Torie huffed.

She snatched her leather jacket from the floor and slipped her arms into it, obviously ticked off.

“You definitely haven’t been a New Yorker very long!” Monte laughed at her teasingly.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” one of the security guards said. “We really wanted to get you guys some help. We kept trying to talk to you over the intercom, but they were out, too. So sorry about this, folks.”

The guards were clearly upset, feeling a personal failure at not having been able to help them.

“Hey, guys, we’re out now, and I’d say no worse for the wear,” Monte said, throwing a meaningful glance at Torie, who blushed noticeably. “Thanks for all of your efforts, guys.”

Monte shook both of the men’s hands. They both smiled, grateful for Monte’s graciousness despite the evening’s distress. Torie thanked them, as well, assuring the men that she did not hold them responsible for the situation.

“Ms. Turner, can I give you a lift home?” Monte asked.

The spell that Torie had cast over him had remained intact, even after the power came back on and they’d emerged from their metal nest. Monte looked into Torie’s eyes, hoping to convey to her what he was feeling, even as he struggled with exactly what those feelings were himself. He wanted to spend more time with her. After all they’d divulged to each other,
there was still so much he wanted to know about her and so much that he wanted to share. With the taste of her lips still lingering on his own, Monte could not erase the feel of her womanly frame in his arms. He wanted to reclaim those arousing sensations and take them to even greater heights.

“No, no…I’m sure you want to get home yourself…check on your boys. I’ll just hail a taxi,” Torie said.

Even as she said no, Torie felt a loud and resounding
yes
pounding inside her brain. She could feel herself being pulled to Monte, and although what had transpired between them shocked her, she wanted more of it. She had never in her life been so open and unguarded with a man she’d just met, but there was something about Monte that made it difficult to be guarded in his presence. The racing of her heart and the pulsing in the center of her womanhood had yet to taper off, and her head told her that the logical thing to do would be to put some distance between herself and the seductive Monte Lewis before she did something that she would later regret.

Monte studied her face for a moment, and he thought he could see a flash of conflict reflected in her beautiful eyes. It was enough to place his desire in check.

“You’re right—I really do need to get on home. Cheryl is probably beside herself with worry. Come on, I’ll hail a cab for you.”

The pair stood out on the sidewalk in silence, each lost in complicated thoughts. The air was warm for April, yet Torie hugged both arms around her body. When Monte was at last successful in stopping a yellow taxicab for her, she slid quickly into the passenger seat, but turned to face him before the door closed.

“Thanks for everything tonight, Monte. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been in that elevator alone,” Torie said.

“I can safely say the same thing,” Monte said, smiling warmly.

“Good night.”

Monte pushed the door closed and watched the taxi peel away from the curb. He stayed where he was, standing until the red taillights blended in with all the other cars headed in the same direction. Finally, he pulled his PDA from his briefcase to call home and headed toward the building’s underground parking lot to retrieve his car. Even as they moved in opposite directions, both Monte’s and Torie’s thoughts remained in an elevator of the Time Warner building. The kiss they’d shared played an equal role in their revelries, as did the quiet admissions made in the dark. They’d reached a level of intimacy with each other that some people were still searching for after several dates and a night full of passionate sex. Each was left with the conclusion that people ought to spend more time trapped alone in elevators.

O
n the Monday morning following the blackout, Monte arrived at his office at noon, having spent the morning at the boys’ pediatrician’s office for their annual checkups. He always subconsciously breathed a sigh of relief whenever his boys went to the doctors, as he was no stranger to unexpected illness. Both Joshua and Josiah were progressing as they should and neither one had so much as a bump to complain about. For Monte, that was all the news he needed to have a good day. Little did he know that there was even more ahead to be happy about.

“Morning, Mr. Lewis. Looks like your day is off to a bright start.” His secretary, Margaret, beamed as he leaned over her desk to retrieve his mail.

Perplexed by Margaret’s unusual greeting, Monte’s eyebrows came together in a question mark. Margaret simply smiled and pointed toward the open door of Monte’s office. He moved cautiously toward the office, glancing back at Margaret, who continued watching him with a look reminiscent of a cat that’d eaten a canary.

In the center of Monte’s desk rested a large bouquet of
yellow roses. Their scent had already filled the spacious room and their vibrant color seemed to provide more illumination than the florescent lights overhead. Monte was even more mystified as he plucked the small card from the vase. In a delicate, beautiful penmanship, there was a simple message that read,
It was a pleasure sharing an extended elevator ride with you. Monte Lewis, you are a lifesaver. Torie T.

Monte looked down at the flowers again and noticed that tied to the large satin yellow-and-white bow in front of the vase was a pack of assorted Mentos. He burst out laughing, his robust voice ringing throughout his office and out into the corridor where Margaret still sat beaming.

“Told you,” she called.

Monte pulled back the leather office chair behind his desk and sat down. He stared at the flowers for several minutes, inhaling their scent. He tore the package of Mentos open and popped one into his mouth, before closing his eyes and taking another deep breath. The memories that he’d spent the entire weekend fighting to suppress came rushing back, heating him up inside. He opened his eyes and read Torie’s card again and again. Her handwriting was as delicate and graceful as she was.

Over the past two days Monte had convinced himself that what had happened in that elevator between he and Torie was a simple case of two people being forced together during a stressful situation. He’d told himself that a woman as electrifying and breathtaking as she had to be a lot more complicated than she’d appeared, and complications were the last thing he needed in his life. He’d spent the past three years focusing on his boys and helping them cope with the loss of their mother. He’d pushed all of his own desires and longings aside, striving to fill the void left by Shawna as best as he could. When his mother’s health had taken a turn for the worse last year, he knew that he’d made the right decision
and dedicated himself even more to taking care of his family. Those hours spent with Torie in that elevator had stirred up long-buried feelings and, since then, Monte had managed to push them back down where they belonged. Yet, even as he’d done that, he knew that he was telling himself a lie and had been all along.

Monte was startled from his deep thoughts by a quick rap on the open door to his office. In walked Brent Stolzberg, a colleague, as well as his racquetball partner and friend.

“Monte, my man, what’s cooking?” Brent asked as he walked in.

Brent took at seat in front of Monte’s desk. Motioning to the flowers, he said, “Whoa, what’s this?”

“Man, you wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” Monte replied.

He spent the next few minutes explaining to Brent how he’d been trapped in the elevator with one of the firm’s newest clients last Friday night and how afraid she’d been. He left out the part about the passionate kiss they’d shared and also didn’t mention how she’d been plaguing his thoughts ever since.

“And she sent you flowers to thank you for holding her hand through the ordeal? Wow, classy lady. What’s her name?”

“Torie Turner.”

“Oh, this just gets better and better.
The
infamous Torie Turner? I’ve heard that she’s a ten on the knockout scale,” Brent said. “All the single guys around here are practically drooling over her…and some of the married ones, for that matter, too.”

“Okay, so we’re rating our clients now? Boy, if that’s not a clear indication that we definitely don’t have enough to do around here, I don’t know what is,” Monte replied.

“Come on, Monte. Don’t tell me you’ve never checked out a client before. Even a monk like you can acknowledge a good-looking woman when you see one,” Brent retorted.

“Whatever. Look, Torie Turner is, indeed, a beautiful woman. Happy?”

“Not yet. Not until you tell me what went on while you two were trapped in that elevator all of that time?”

“Nothing. We talked. I kept reassuring her that everything would be okay. Eventually, we got out, I hailed a taxi for her and that’s it.”

“Yeah, right. And that’s why she sent you this hundred-dollar bouquet of roses? Get real, Monte.”

“I’m serious, that’s it. I don’t know what you want me to say, Brent.”

“I want you to say that you’re going to call Ms. Turner, thank her for the flowers and then ask her out to dinner or a show.”

“Why on earth would I do that?”

“Are you serious? Monte, there are about a million reasons why you should do that, starting with the fact that you haven’t been out on what qualifies as a date in years and ending with the fact that Torie Turner is a beautiful woman who appears to be interested in you.”

“Interested in me? What? No, you’re reading this all wrong,” Monte said nervously. He paused for a minute, glancing at the flowers. “What makes you think she’s interested in me?”

“Duh! Jeez, Monte, has it been that long? Let me school you, my naive friend. Women don’t send flowers to men just because,” Brent answered.

“The flowers are a thank-you for keeping her calm in the elevator. That’s all.”

“I’m sure she said thank-you when you got out of the elevator. Those flowers are about ten percent
thank-you
and ninety percent
I want to get to know you better,
” Brent said.

Monte thought about Brent’s words, considering their undeniable merit. She had said thank-you, repeatedly. There was no real need for her to send the flowers, unless she was
interested. But, on the other hand, maybe that was just the type of person she was—gracious and overly demonstrative. Either way, Monte reasoned, he had already made up his mind.

“You know what, Brent? It really doesn’t matter why she sent the flowers. I’m not interested in dating Torie Turner,” Monte said definitively.

“Why not?”

“Why not?”

“Is there an echo in here? Why not?” Brent asked again.

“Because—”

“Because you’ve taken this ridiculous vow of celibacy and solitude that makes absolutely no sense. That’s why,” Brent said.

“Brent, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Monte said. He pulled his lips in tightly, a sign that he was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

“Monte, I love you like a stepbrother, but it’s time you got honest—if not with me, at least with yourself. Shawna would not want you living this way,” Brent said softly.

Monte was poised to get defensive and tell Brent that he really had no idea what he was talking about. He wanted to tell his friend to back off, but something stopped him. He leaned back in his seat and his eyes gravitated to the left, toward the credenza behind him. There was a picture of Shawna, the boys and him, taken about six months before she died.

“She’d give you permission to be happy if she could,” Brent added.

“What makes you think I’m not happy?” Monte asked, lifting the framed photograph from the shelf.

“I’m not saying you’re not happy. I know you love the boys, and for some crazy reason you even love this place. I’m just saying that you’re blessed, man, but all that’s missing is someone to share it with.”

“I’m blessed? Listen to you sounding like a
brotha.
Keep on hanging out with me and you’re going to get your white-boy card revoked,” Monte joked.

“See there, now your memory is fading. I already became an honorary
brotha
last Thanksgiving when your mom got me hooked on her collard greens and black-eyed peas,” Brent replied with a laugh. “On that note, I’ve got a meeting to get to. Just think about what I said and, after you do that, invite the woman to a harmless lunch.”

“Later, man,” was Monte’s noncommittal reply.

Left alone with his thoughts, Monte stared at the photo of his family. He couldn’t believe that he still loved Shawna as much as he did the day he’d married her, but there it was, sitting in the middle of his chest like a boulder. A love that once lifted him and made him believe he could fly now weighed him down and left him feeling like a drowning man. For the first few months after her death, he’d looked up to the heavens and asked over and over again why she’d left him. He never got a response so eventually he stopped asking. He’d heard that when people lost a loved one, they often felt that person’s presence, comforting them. He didn’t feel that. All that Shawna’s death had left was a hole that he’d believed could never be filled. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him that perhaps what Shawna had really left was a space and not a hole. Maybe she’d left that space purposely so that there would be room in his heart for someone new to love.

Monte spontaneously turned toward his computer. He struck a few keys on the keyboard and pulled up the firm’s client directory. Within seconds, Torie Turner’s name, address and telephone number appeared on the screen. He picked up the handset on his telephone, punched her digits into the keypad and waited. Her recorded voice came on after the second ring, urging him to leave a message.

“Hello, Torie. This is Monte…Monte Lewis. I just, uh,
wanted to say thank-you for the flowers. A beautiful yet entirely unnecessary gesture, but you are more than welcome. Listen, I was wondering if you’d like to, uh, have lunch sometime. I know your schedule is probably pretty hectic, but if you have a free hour or whatever, give me a call. Okay, well, take care.”

Monte hung up and expelled the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. Uncertain as to if she’d call or how that would make him feel, Monte allowed the alluring scent of Torie’s roses to soothe him temporarily. He couldn’t deny that she’d touched him in a place that he’d thought no one would ever be able to reach again. He certainly hadn’t been looking for it, but it was precisely because he wasn’t looking that she’d appeared. While he was a man who’d long ago stopped believing in destiny and fate, he could not help but wonder if Torie Turner had come into his life and his elevator at precisely the moment when he needed her to.