Chapter Three
Monday, time dragged. Hannah half expected to hear the numbers of the clock scrape against the floor, creating ruts in the blue industrial carpet. The press release she was writing, discussing the goals of her client’s new CEO, was stuck on line three. She’d sit down to write, and remember she needed a cup of coffee. So she’d go and get coffee, sit and be too warm. She’d adjust the thermostat and realize she should make sure her hair wasn’t frizzy, since she didn’t want Dan to see her look like the Wild Woman of Borneo. She’d return once again to the computer, and be too cold. Lunch could not come fast enough.
Finally, finally, finally, lunchtime rolled around. Hannah grabbed her purse and raced to the bathroom. After she fixed her makeup and hair, she walked to the Piccolo Café. As she approached the restaurant, she spotted him waiting on the sidewalk. Khakis with a razor-sharp crease fit him better than any she had seen before, and a flash of his sexy rear flitted through her head. A blue button-down Oxford, the exact color of his eyes, stretched across his broad shoulders and managed not to look rumpled after a half day of work. Silver-flecked hair glinted in the sun and a strong hand gripped his cane. The brown wood looked bronze in the sun, and for the first time, she noticed grooved cutouts along the shaft, which added some artistry to it. He met her gaze and waved, a half-smile on his face, as he shifted his weight and pulled at his collar.
For some reason, his nerves calmed her. She exhaled, blew a strand of hair out of her face, and hurried to meet him. “Hi, sorry if I kept you waiting.”
“I was early.”
For her. Her stomach lurched and she pressed her hand against her middle to settle it.
He rested his hand on her upper arm. “Want to go inside?”
Warmth radiated from her arm to her fingertips. This close to him, she could smell his shampoo and a faint trace of his aftershave, and she wanted more time to figure out what those specific scents were. But they were in the middle of the sidewalk, and now was not the time to sniff.
Not to mention, she would look weird.
He ushered her indoors, and they followed the hostess to a table in the back of the rustic-looking dining room, his gait a little uneven as he limped.
“How’s your day so far?” he asked when the hostess left.
“I’m glad lunch is finally here.”
“Me too.” His face reddened and he smiled, not holding her gaze for long, but long enough for her to admire his handsome grin. “The morning took much longer than I thought it would.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I thought it was just me.”
He shook his head. “I swear someone snuck into my office last night and slowed all the clocks. Every time I looked, a few minutes had passed, although it felt like longer, and every time the phone rang, I jumped.”
“Why?”
He played with the edges of his menu for a moment, and she wondered what those fingers would feel like on her. When he refocused his gaze on her, her face heated and she took a deep breath. “Restaurant burned down,” he said, “every road in the city closed, it’s been a while since I’ve been on a date…I don’t know.”
She leaned forward with a smile. “Look at us. We made it.”
“I’m glad.” He touched her hand for a moment, his fingers strong, and a shiver ran up her arm. His words might be tentative, but his touch was warm, strong, and sure. His piercing blue eyes homed in on her and made it impossible to look away. His eyebrows were still dark, unlike his hair, which gave him a foreboding appearance, but when he smiled, his mouth stretched, drawing attention to his soft lips, adding a vulnerability to his features, and making her wonder what it would be like to kiss him. Would his kiss be soft and gentle or sure, in a take-no-prisoners kind of way? What would he taste like? Warmth pooled low in her belly as a desire to find out the answers to those questions blossomed.
They both jumped when the waitress appeared. “Are you ready to order?”
“Sorry, not even close,” Dan said. “So, you said on the phone you’d been here before?” His gaze shifted to the menu and Hannah pulled her hand away.
“Yes, my best friend, Aviva, and I gorged on pasta while celebrating our move to the New York office a couple of months ago. Thanks for trying to find something near me. I hope it’s not too far for you?”
“I like getting out of the office at lunchtime, and it doesn’t happen often. When it does, I don’t worry about how long I’m gone.”
They chose their lunches and placed their orders. When the waitress left, Hannah leaned forward and rested her arms on the table. “I meant to ask you how you found me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you did, but I was curious since you never asked for my number.”
He made a half-strangled sound somewhere between a laugh and a huff, and ran his hand over his short-cropped hair. “You told me your name and you said you were in PR. I found your name on a number of press releases. Then I took a chance you still worked at the same company.”
“Wow, I’m impressed. Thank you for the effort.”
He frowned. “Do people not usually make an effort for you?” His gaze was intense. She shifted in her seat. It wasn’t a question she wanted to ponder, much less answer. Her discomfort must have shown on her face because he straightened his shoulders and shook his head. “I’m sorry, it was a personal question. Forget I asked. How long have you worked at Shelby Public Relations?”
Relief at being let off the hook mixed with surprise at his perception, and made her want to answer his original question. “Don’t be sorry. As for working at Shelby? Since I graduated Washington University—first in their Jersey City satellite office, then, as I said, Aviva and I moved to their main office here. They offered me an entry-level job where senior executives mentored me and gave me the chance to work on a variety of projects. I’ve been happy there. Now I’m trying for a promotion so I can get my own client roster.”
He winced. “I probably shouldn’t ask, but how long ago did you graduate college?”
She chuckled. “I graduated five years ago. I’m twenty-seven.”
He pulled at his shirt collar. “Not too bad, I guess. I’m thirty-nine.”
She placed her hand on his arm. “Aviva said an age difference isn’t bad now that we’re out of school. Especially if the meeting is organic, like ours was.” But he was older than she’d imagined. Would Aviva say the same if she knew his age? And did it matter?
He covered her hand with his and they sat in silence a moment until the waitress jostled his chair, and he flinched. “Oh, I’m sorry if I hurt you. Here, you ordered the penne a la vodka with chicken.” She placed it in front of Dan and turned to Hannah. “And you ordered the fettucine a la Bolognese. Can I get either of you parmesan?”
They shook their heads and she left them in silence. The silence became awkward, and Hannah didn’t know what to do to make it comfortable again. She didn’t want to ask about his leg and make things worse. She rolled the fettucine around her fork and took a bite, the textures and flavors of the food distracting her for the moment—the al dente pasta, the tart tomato sauce, and the flavorful meat. When she looked across the table again at Dan, she grinned.
Leaning forward, she held out a finger. “You have sauce…right…there.” She wiped it off his cheek, pausing for a moment to notice the rougher texture of his skin against her finger.
His shoulders shook, a deep rumble came from his toes as he laughed. “Guess we’re even now.” He wiped his face with his napkin.
“It appears we’re both equally dangerous. We’ll have to find neater food next time.”
“Yes, we will.” Once again, he squeezed her hand.
Good, there’ll be a next time.
He was off his game this afternoon. If he even had a “game” at all. It’d been so long since he’d been on a date. He didn’t want to mess this up. As for his leg, she hadn’t mentioned anything about it. With luck, she wouldn’t. He’d see when it was time to stand up. In the meantime, a beautiful woman sat across from him. He smiled.
“What’s funny?”
She stopped eating and watched him. He cleared his throat. “Mustard and tomato sauce.”
“A horrible combination. I don’t think I should let you cook for me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m a pretty decent cook. Tess will vouch for me.”
“Really?”
“Well, if you’re inclined to believe a teenager.”
“It’s hard being her age. I remember it well.” She shuddered.
“Bad time?” If she had bad memories about her teenaged years, how would she feel about dating the father of one?
“Made worse by my three brothers.”
“Older or younger?”
“Older.”
“What are they like now?”
Her smile slipped and she bit her lip. “Older.”
He took the hint and changed the subject, with more grace this time. “So, what kind of PR do you do?”
Sitting back, he listened as she talked about her clients: her pharmaceutical client’s great charity work, but how it was impossible to get them the type of publicity they wanted; what she wanted to do five and ten years from now; how she wanted to be able to support her grandmother. He watched the sparkle light up her blue eyes, reminding him of sun glinting off a wave in the ocean. He listened to the lilt in her voice, and remembered how it’d washed over him at lunch the other day and made him not only eat with her, but pursue her. He asked questions and by the time the bill came, he felt as if he were back in the game.
As he paid, he turned to Hannah. “I’m glad we did this today. Any chance you’d want to do something again? Despite my age, being a parent to a teenager, my cane…I had an accident several years ago, injured my knee, and it never healed right. So, if you’re looking for a star athlete, you should probably keep looking.”
He held his breath, waiting to see what she said.
She nodded, and he finally released a breath.
“Do you have your phone on you?” she asked.
She’d said yes. He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to her, his hand almost shaking in relief. She returned it to him. “Open your contacts.”
He entered his password three times before it worked, opened the contacts app and handed the phone to her. She typed the same as his daughter, with her thumbs, whereas he used his pointer fingers. God, she was out of his league.
“I put my cell number in your phone. This way you don’t have to search the internet for me.”
Maybe it’d been a while since he’d dated. But when her eyes twinkled and her face glowed as it did now, he didn’t care about anything but her. He grasped her wrist, sliding his fingers across the delicate bones in her wrist, feeling her pulse skitter beneath his skin. Her lips parted and an uncontrollable desire to kiss her filled him. Should he…would she…could he?
He stood there a moment, not moving or breathing. Such a short distance to cross, yet as wide as an ocean. Kissing her, tasting her, feeling her body against his—it was a fantasy he wanted to turn into reality. But not now. Because when he did kiss her, he wanted it to be perfect. And perfection needed a plan.
Hannah rode the elevator to her apartment that night after work, smiling every time she thought about her lunch with Dan. He was warm and funny. When he looked at her, really looked at her, her insides tingled, like effervescent soda bubbles. Imagine what would happen when he kissed her.
She slipped her key in the lock and opened the door. Voices greeted her and she stiffened, all thoughts of Dan’s kiss evaporating. Gritting her teeth, she stepped into the hallway, dropped her keys on the desk, and hid her purse in the far corner of the coat closet.
Her grandmother looked toward her. “Hi, Hannahla, look who stopped by.”
“Jeff.” Hannah nodded to her brother and walked into the living room. His sandy hair was combed this time, his T-shirt and jeans cleaner than she remembered them being in a long time.
“Hey, Hannah.”
“Jeff was telling me about his apartment.” Bubbe beamed from her seat.
Hannah edged onto the corner of the sofa. “I thought you got kicked out of your apartment.”
“Hannah!” Her grandmother put her hand on Hannah’s knee, and Hannah reminded herself to be good.
Jeff stiffened a moment before he assumed a more relaxed pose. “No, it’s okay, Grandma. Hannah, this is a new one. A friend and I sublet it from a guy he knows.”
“A friend?”
He nodded. “Yeah, you don’t know him, but he owns the restaurant I work at.”
“So you have a job now.”
“Mike’s, a coffee shop in Hell’s Kitchen. Waiter, busboy, you know.”
She knew all right. Like all his other jobs, it would be short-lived, and result in him showing up asking for money. Or stealing it from someone’s wallet, as he’d done so many times from her and from her friends.
“He’s turning his life around, Hannahla. You should be happy for him.”
Happy for him. Her brother, the screw-up. Her brother, the drug addict. He was always turning his life around in order to follow the drugs and the easy money. You could find him at the coked-up parties with shady friends and shadier dealings.
She narrowed her gaze. His eyes were clear and his hands didn’t shake, but that meant nothing. He was a master manipulator and an expert at hiding his addiction. She couldn’t see track marks on his arms, but he’d shot up other body parts before. Her grandmother might be fooled, and from her expression, she was annoyed Hannah didn’t welcome him with open arms, but depending on him was futile. As a child, she could always depend on him to tease her, defend her, and cheer when she was sad. But sometime during his teenage years he’d changed, and now the one thing she could depend on was his need for money and the next fix. Thus, shoving her purse into the back of the coat closet.
“What do you want, Jeff?” Hannah said.
“Nothing.”
“Sure.” She tapped her foot.
“I mean it, Hannah. I just stopped by to visit.”
“On your way where?”
“Work.”
She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.
“I swear, Hannah. I’ve changed.”
“Great.”
“You don’t believe me.”
Hannah smoothed her hand over the green chenille fabric of the sofa. Its softness soothed her, but she couldn’t be soft. She shrugged and heard her grandmother gasp.
“Hannah!”
“Relax, Grandma, it’s okay,” Jeff said. “She’s got a right to be skeptical. But I swear, Hannah, I’m not the same person I was. I’m in a program.”
“I’m thrilled you have a job and it’s great you think this program will be different. But you’ll be clean until the next hit or the next time something goes wrong. And every time you come here and swear things are different, you fool yourself and hurt Bubbe.” And me. All the times he hadn’t shown up when he’d promised came to the fore and she shook her head.
She rose and pinned her grandmother with a firm stare. “I’m going out. Make sure he’s gone when I return.” She switched her gaze to her brother. “And don’t you dare ask for money.” She’d started to replenish her savings account; she wouldn’t let him drain it again. Jeff might not have any interest in paying back their grandmother for everything she’d done for them, but Hannah did.
Hannah strode to the closet, grabbed her purse and keys, and left the apartment. Tears she refused to shed clouded her vision and she paid little attention to where she went. Ten minutes later, she stopped at a bench. Her feet hurt. Slipping one foot out of its navy pump, she massaged it as pedestrians filed past.
People watching gave her an escape from her thoughts. A group of tourists pointed to the skyline, snapped pictures of the skyscrapers across the Hudson. Commuters poured out of the train station on their way home. Families walked through the park, kids raced ahead and parents followed at a slower pace. Young professionals headed toward the bars.
A street vendor walked by pushing a cart of roasted nuts. She wasn’t hungry, but she wouldn’t return home until she was positive her brother was gone. Across the street was a sushi place. As she was about to enter, her phone rang.
“Hannah, it’s Dan.”
Her throat clogged. “Hi. I didn’t expect you to call so soon.”
“Is everything okay? You don’t sound like yourself.”
He could tell her mood already? She took a deep breath. “Just some family stuff.”
“Want to talk about it?”
Absolutely not. “Not really.”
“I understand. I called because I wanted to let you to know how much fun I had at lunch today.”
She turned and leaned against the sushi restaurant’s fa?ade. The heavy band around her chest loosened and she smiled. “I did too.”
“Want to do it again sometime?”
“Lunch?”
“Well, I thought something more along the lines of the planetarium at night.”
“Oh, like A Night At The Museum, except without the creepy dinosaurs come to life, hopefully,” she said.
He laughed. “Actually, this place might have aliens. The next show is this weekend.”
He was the father to a teenaged daughter. Regardless of how much she’d enjoyed herself with him, was this wise? She paused. “I’d love to go.”
“Great. How about I pick you up at seven on Saturday, and afterwards we can have a late dinner. And if you change your mind, about talking I mean, I’m around.”