Love Isn't Blind 1 (3 page)

Ashley couldn't tell if this last comment was a joke or not and decided to shift the conversation away from life in the CIA. Despite his easy jokes and friendly manner, she could tell his mood was shifting to a darker place as he thought about his time as an operative; she didn't want to be responsible for any bad memories she might accidentally dredge up. And so they talked of inconsequential things and ate their meal until he eventually excused himself to go to his study and begin his night of work.

TWO DRESSES LAY SPREAD across the bed while Ashley stood over them in her underwear trying to decide which to wear. After holding one up and deciding it was just the right mix of professional and attractive, she almost smacked herself in the forehead for being so silly. She'd been so caught up in trying to make a good impression during her first work session with Anthony that she'd completely forgotten he was blind. It didn't matter which dress she wore, because he'd never see it.

Ashley slipped into the dress anyway; after all, it was about how it made her feel, and she allowed herself a warm cardigan to hold back the definite chill that was seeping into the bones of this old house now that autumn was coming on strong. She still looked cute enough with the sweater covering her torso, and this look was probably more appropriate to the situation. It had been difficult for her not to think about that first meeting with her boss, and how shockingly attractive she'd found him. She didn't know exactly how old he was, but she'd be surprised if he were over forty. Having just finished college, she hadn't thought there'd be any sort of romantic temptation here in Virginia, but his sweat-slicked bare stomach was quickly becoming a recurring theme in many idle daydreams.

These sorts of thoughts were not helpful in getting ready for a collaborative work session with a famous author, and she set them aside and turned her attention to her make-up. She'd never relied on much more than a good skincare regimen and a bit of moisturizer before going out for the day, and now that she was working with a blind man, she found it even easier to skip the urge to dab on a little blush or eye shadow.

Pawing through her bag of toiletries, she pulled out a bottle of perfume, and it occurred to her that this was how she could show off a bit of her feminine charm. She spritzed the scent on the pulse points at her wrists and around her neck just under the ears. She almost never wore perfume, and she'd inadvertently used a little more than was probably necessary, but with the stuffiness of this old house with all the windows closed, she figured it would go a ways toward brightening the place up.

Ashley knocked lightly on the thick wooden door. She thought for a moment that she might have been expected to just walk in, but it wasn't in her nature to go charging into rooms with closed doors. At the same time, she hoped she wasn't making her boss get up to navigate across his office to let her in. She stood quiet and still, and it was a relief to finally hear him call for her to enter.

"Sorry, I wasn't sure if I should just come in or...?" she asked. Anthony had risen from his chair and was standing behind the desk to greet her.

"No, it's better if you knock when the door is closed. I have a habit of doing some strange things when I'm thinking or dictating, and it might be awkward for you to walk in on me during one of these moments." He smiled and left the nature of what those things might be up to her imagination.

"Where should I set up?" she asked, hefting her computer as though he could see it and take it as an indication of her need for room to set it down.

"Ah, yes. I've brought in a second office chair, so please just use the other side of my desk."

He gestured to a cleared space opposite him. Ashley noticed there was a keyboard on his side of the desk that looked quite standard if she ignored the space-aged looking piece of hardware attached to the bottom. She also saw that there was no monitor on the almost entirely bare desk. There were just his strange keyboard, an empty coffee mug, and a small digital recorder. There was plenty of room for her computer and files.

"You're admiring my keyboard, aren't you," he asked, the corners of his lips curving into a proud grin.

"I couldn't help but notice it," she said. "There's not much else on the desk."

"Well, I've always been a neat freak, but now I find I have little use for the sorts of things that used to clutter up my work space. That keyboard is a state of the art digital braille reader. A little gift from my CIA buddies. That's how I read over the work you've been doing."

"Impressive," she said. "I hadn't really thought about how you were tracking my transcriptions, but it makes sense that a guy like you would have a fancy gadget like that."

"I do love my toys," he said. His face shifted into a more serious expression. "Before we go any further with this session, I'd like to address that scent you're wearing. While I don't doubt that you meant no harm in applying it liberally, you must realize that being without my sight has forced me to develop a heightened sense of smell. I'm afraid it's making it extremely difficult for me to focus, and I'm going to have to ask you to please go and rinse it off before we continue."

"Oh, I... I'm so sorry," Ashley stammered. She rushed to get up and nearly tripped over the arm of her chair as it spun around and bumped her on the thigh. She then made a hasty exit for the door.

Once upstairs in her bathroom, her reflection was flushing deep crimson as she looked in the mirror, and she thought she'd never been so embarrassed at having done something so stupid. She should have known better. It was only natural that he'd have to rely on his other senses more now that he couldn't see. He must be able to hear very well, she thought, and his sense of touch must be a lot more sensitive, too. This brought to mind an image of him brushing his fingers across the smooth skin of her bare breasts, and she flushed anew.

This was no time to be indulging in ridiculous fantasies about sleeping with her boss, she told herself as she soaped a cloth and rubbed it across her wrists and neck. She was here in a professional capacity to be his assistant, and that was all. There would be no torrid love affair. Ashley dried herself off and returned to the office, trying to purge any thoughts of her boss's body pressed against hers.

"I can't apologize enough for doing something so stupid," she said as she re-entered the study. "It won't happen again, I promise."

"It's perfectly fine," he assured her. "This home is a scent-free environment, and Helene should have told you on your first day."

"Still, I feel like an insensitive dolt," she said.

"It's forgotten. Shall we move on and get to work? I'm interested in hearing your feedback on the last chapters I recorded for you."

"Yes, I have some notes I've written up. Let me just pull up the file."

The next few hours dissolved into an easy exchange and editorial discussion. Ashley forced herself to be bold with her suggestions, despite feeling that she couldn't possibly contribute anything useful; and he seemed genuinely grateful for her feedback. If she could put aside the rocky start to their first meeting, it would be easy for her to sit back and see that could very well be the most incredible experience a fledgling writer could ask for. When Helene finally interrupted them to ask if they were coming to the table for supper, she didn't want their discussion to end.

THEY QUICKLY SETTLED INTO a routine. Anthony recorded his work, leaving it for her to transcribe in the morning, and then met with her for most of the afternoon to discuss possible changes to the manuscript. Ashley was learning so much from their discussions that her evening sessions on her own novel were progressing much more easily than had any of its predecessors. Through her interactions with Anthony, she felt she really understood how to draw readers into her world and develop a sense of how to carry them along on a fast-paced thrill ride of a finish.

The only negative thing she'd experienced since her arrival nearly a month before was that Anthony never seemed to leave the house. Not a single visitor had come by in all this time, and not once had she seen him venture beyond the garage for a workout. She worried a great deal about what events from his past might be pressing down on him so strongly that they keep him from wanting to go out in public. She was quite sure it was more than just avoidance of the celebrity annoyances someone of his fame might have to endure if they tried to do something normal like go to a cafe or buy groceries. He was as famous as a writer could be, but he was nowhere near the level of popular musicians or movie stars who were followed everywhere by the press.

Deep in these thoughts, she was caught completely off guard when interrupted by a knock on the door as she was getting ready for one of their afternoon meetings.

"Hi," said Anthony when she opened her door. "I need to go into town for some things. Helene usually goes for me, but she's getting older and I know it's an extra burden on her. I don't suppose you'd mind coming with me to run a few errands?"

"Yes, I mean, no. I don't mind at all. I'd love to go into town with you." Ashley was flustered, and she tried her best not to act too surprised that he was actually going to leave the house and that he wanted her to be the one to take him.

"I hope you can drive stick," he said. "I don't exactly drive anymore, and all I've got is my old truck."

"My dad taught me how to handle a manual transmission right after he taught me how to manage a proper handshake," she said.

Anthony opened the passenger door and slipped into the seat. "Your dad is really starting to sound like my kind of guy. I'd love to meet him some day."

The engine roared to life as Ashley keyed the ignition. She used the excuse of remembering how to get the truck in gear and out of the driveway to avoid answering him while she still felt a giddy giggle bubbling up. She was also glad he was blind so he couldn't see the big dumb smile on her face. She should have known better, but it wasn't every day a man like Anthony Lang talked about wanting to meet someone’s parents.

"He'd love that," she finally said when they were out on the road. "He's a huge fan of your books. He served in the military for most of my childhood, and he says you're one of the few authors who really gets it right when it comes to describing what it's like to fight for our country."

"Remind me to autograph a few books for your father when we get back. I hope I can meet him soon to thank him for raising such a great girl. It's been a pleasure to work with you these past weeks." Anthony rolled down the window a little and leaned into the cool air whipping at the vehicle.

Ashley's smile widened, and she felt at that moment as though her heart might burst. It was impossible for her not to read interest in his words. He was a proper gentleman through and through, and she was sure he wouldn't do anything as inappropriate as flirt with his assistant; but if these words weren't designed to show her that he was interested, then she didn't know what to think.

He told that they needed to stop by Gerry's Electronics first so he could drop off his recorder for repair. It had stopped working during the previous night's session, and although he had a backup, he far preferred the way this one felt in his hand while he paced around narrating the story. Ashley parked the truck and went around to the sidewalk where Anthony stood waiting with cane extended.

"Do you mind guiding me?" he asked. "Just let me take your arm and I'll follow along. You can walk normally, just don't make any sudden movements without warning me first, okay?"

His fingers slipped lightly around her upper arm; she thrilled at his touch when she relaxed and felt the back of his hand press against her side. The act of guiding felt incredibly intimate. She knew he could manage his way perfectly fine with his cane and his other senses, but the fact that he'd asked for assistance only added to her impression that he might be as interested in her as she was in him.

They were in and out of the electronics shop in short order. After picking up some paper for his braille printer and spending more than a little time chatting with an apparent friend who ran the town's only book store, he suggested they slip into the local diner for an early supper. He surprised her yet again by ordering the house special barbecue bacon burger with fries and a vanilla milkshake, and she thought she detected a hint of a grin on his face when she ordered the same. They talked about his work and writing, but mostly they discussed her family and her time at college. She explained how he had been a great influence on her wanting to be a writer, and they discussed what it was like to learn the craft of creative writing at school as opposed to just sitting down and figuring it out alone as he had done.

By the time their food arrived, Ashley felt more like she was on a date than simply having lunch with a co-worker or boss. Anthony was an incredibly attentive listener, and she felt like she had his entire attention when with him. Even though he couldn't see her, or perhaps because of it, she felt he was taking in every element of her personality and character without being hung up on how pretty she might be. She knew she was a good looking girl, she'd had plenty of guys tell her that in college, but Anthony Lang was the first one to actually make her feel beautiful without ever saying it.

IT WAS LATE BY the time they left the diner. They'd followed up their meal and shakes with coffee, and after what started to feel like an unreasonable amount of time for a writer and his assistant to be chatting over long-empty plates, Anthony paid the bill and they stepped out of the warmth of the diner into the chilly evening air.

"Do you mind if we make a stop before going back the house?" asked Anthony as they stood in front of the truck.

"Of course. Let me just grab my jacket." She retrieved the cozy layer and slipped into it, glad for its warmth but not relishing the extra distance it would put between the heat of Anthony's hand and the skin of her arm beneath the light sweater she'd been wearing. "Where to?"