Chapter 27
Dirk
I’m surprised to glimpse the distinctive green gown in front of me on the grand old marble stairwell. Dee said she’d stay longer to pump hands, and Jamison will drop her home.
“Leaving early?” I say to Lucy, and she nods.
“I had an absolute ball tonight, Dirk. Thank you so much for the dance. You saved me. We were right next to my Ex and the ... ” Her voice trails off, but her expression says it all, until she covers her devastation with another bright smile.
She’s plucky, this Lucy, in her stunning green gown, but I heard her. My proud heart plummets.
“You used me to make your Ex jealous,” I say. “And there I was, thinking my natural charm made me irresistible.” I try to make a joke of it, as if a kiss means nothing. What century am I from? What a fool to read something into it, something like a future for us.
“Actually, I am attracted to you, Dirk.”
“I see.” I don’t really. I’m old and jaded and cynical. What could the dazzling Lucy possibly see in me?
“You don’t believe me, a handsome man like you?”
“Are you flirting with me, Lucy?”
“Just telling the truth.”
“Then I better at least offer you a lift home.”
“I’d love that, thank you.”
I open the door for her and she slides in, her long gown rustling. I reach down and sweep a green length of it out of the path of the red door – red light, green light; my mind plays tricks with my attraction to her – then close it.
She is quiet in the car. I glance across at her, at the creamy gleam of her skin, and back to the road; work the gears as her perfume fills the car and my heart pounds. I must focus on the road.
It’s unspoken, this thing between us, this awareness, as if my body can’t ignore hers, as if Lucy has lodged in me like some kind of splinter, like an itch. She is there, as much a part of me now as my shadow.
Back at Brighton Court, I open the front door of the apartments for her and she goes ahead of me up the stairs, elegance itself. I can’t take my eyes off her form, the sway of her body in the swish of green silk, and the glow of the skin of her bare back; such an invitation.
At her door, she asks me in, and my eyes drop to her neck, that tender place above her collar bone, one elegant green earring swinging above it. Softly, she smiles up at me, raises an eyebrow.
“Dirk?”
I grab both her hands.
“You’re very beautiful, Lucy,” I say. I run my thumbs across all her diamonds, then and step away.
“Why did you let go?” she asks.
Should I tell her? Her eyes sparkle as she waits for my answer.
“I have a friend who’s a divorce lawyer, Lucy.”
“So?”
“Don’t you think you have enough diamonds?” I say it nicely. I smile.
She ignores me, stares at me – an admonishment, and I blink.
Lucy’s past is irrelevant. If she goes through husbands at the rate of one a year, who am I to judge her? She’s magnificent.
She examines her rings but has no answer. She brings her eyes back to mine, the suggestion of a dare right there; a challenge.
“One small glass of port, Dirk? That’s all I’m suggesting.” Her voice is low and reasonable. “It’s been a wonderful evening. I’m not ready for it to end. Come in. You’re always so, so serious.”
Against my better judgement, I step inside. Those same alluring fragrances assail me. She keeps her place fresh and clean and inviting. Indirect lighting gives the spaces a warm glow. Knowing that Lucy made the lamps only makes them more enticing.
Lucy magics up a bowl of salted nuts and two tiny glasses. In her green gown, she’s a genie, the creature of my dreams.
“Cheers.”
Before I know it, she’s reached up and undone my bow tie and top button, and I shake my head.
“Why not, Dirk?”
Because my pulse is racing, because my body remembers exactly where this leads, because Lucy may be all wiles and I’m a sucker.
She lights a couple of candles and we sit and stare at her view. There are far fewer city lights at this hour. We watch some of them blink off. It’s mesmerizing, and she is warm beside me, her breath soft and sweet as we sip at the port. My lips remember hers. They have a life of their own.
“Thank you for being there,” she says. “And for being here.”
“For ...?”
“I can’t thank you enough for that kiss, Dirk. It was exactly what I needed.”
“I’d do it for anyone,” I say.
“Not that again! You really helped me out.” And before I know it, she slips her hand inside my arm and presses closer to me.
This time her kiss is chaste. She reaches up to my cheek, the fabric of her gown rustling, her perfume a delicious waft of temptation, but it’s just a friendly peck, and I’m sorry when she leans away and regains a respectable distance.
“My Ex,” she says, and sighs heavily.
“Which one?” I say. It’s an attempt at a joke.
She inhales sharply, recoils from me. I don’t understand why she stands and places her unfinished glass on the windowsill. She’s waiting for me to leave.
I swirl the last of my port in the bottom of the tiny glass. It glows ruby red in Lucy’s candlelight, the same color as her lamps with long beaded tassels in the corner.
I am dismissed, chastised – and strangely bereft.
It was just meant to be banter. Was I unnecessarily cruel?
For all her strength and guile, Lucy is vulnerable.
I should know. It’s not long since we shared the drink in the bar and she revealed the torment of her estrangement from her daughter, not to mention that horrific interview.
Public shaming makes everyone vulnerable.
So now I am a different kind of fool. I have no evidence Lucy is a fortune hunter.
She’s only human, and I’ve insulted her.
As I stumble out of there, out of that inviting haven where I had been so warmly invited, and up to my empty apartment with everything too neat and tidy, including my bed – too big and cold and lonely – I am ashamed.