London Calling (2 page)

“A large tea, please?”

“Sure thing. That’ll be $2.25. Pick whatever you’d like.”
She pointed to the row of tea boxes on the counter.

He paid and read the choices while she got his hot water. “Thanks.”
He smiled when she set it down. He chose chamomile, thinking that would be the
most settling, then picked up a copy of
The Village Voice
from an empty
table and sat down to read.

He could hear talking from the kitchen, then the blonde
woman came out from behind the counter. “Thanks, Jenna. See you Wednesday.” She
gave him a quick wave. “Night.”

He went back to reading and when he looked up he was
surprised to see the same girl from the morning behind the counter. Her hair
was down now, long and wavy, cascading past her shoulders. She was stacking
cups at the espresso machine, her small hands quickly emptying the dishwasher
rack of the white ceramic mugs. He considered going over to say hello, but the
door swung open and a customer walked in. He was in his late 20s, heavily
tattooed and clearly drunk.

“Ya got any bagels?” he asked, slurring as though it was one
long word.

“No, sorry, all sold out.”

“Aw, fuck, really?”

“Sorry. We’ll have more tomorrow. Actually, we’re about to
close now.”

Tim noticed how she’d said “we” when it seemed she was the
only employee left. He pretended to keep reading but kept an eye on the guy who
was now running his hand along the glass case, leaving sweaty smudges.

“Man, I really wanted a bagel. I love bagels.” He leaned his
head down and pressed his forehead against the glass. “Nice, fresh bagels. Warm
and soft with a nice hole in them. You got anything like that?”

Tim’s nostrils flared as he caught the rude implication.
Counter Girl must have heard it too. Her pale skin went a shade lighter.

Drunk Guy rested his elbow on the case. “You look like you’d
be nice and warm.”

That does it.
Tim strode over to the counter. “You
about ready to go, love? We’re supposed to be meeting Bill and Crystal.”

Her mouth dropped open but she nodded, her deep green eyes
focused on his. “Yeah, just finishing up.”

“Good. Hey, buddy, we’re gonna be locking up now, so if you
don’t mind.”

“Yeah, sure, man.” He stumbled as he stepped backward. He
was several inches shorter than Tim and looked overwhelmed. “Hey, yeah, I’m
gonna go find some bagels.” He wove past the tables then headed out the door.

Tim turned toward Jenna, who still looked a bit shaken. “You
okay?”

“Fine. Thanks for that.”

“My pleasure. I’ve worked a lot of pubs. Getting drunk men
to stop harassing women is one of my specialties. I’m Tim, by the way.”

“Jenna.” She smiled.

“I know. I heard your coworker saying good night to you.
You’re not the only one who eavesdrops.”

Her cheeks flushed a warm shade of pink, stirring something
deep within his belly. “Well, I’m sorry you had to spend your free time playing
bouncer on my behalf.” She flipped off the switches on the espresso machine. “I
really am about to close up. Can I get you anything else?”

“I’m good.” He watched as she swiped a cloth over the streaks
on the display case. She disappeared into the back and returned a moment later
wearing a denim jacket and carrying an enormous black messenger bag.

Her brow furrowed as she looked at him. “So who are Bill and
Crystal?”

Tim chuckled. “Bill,” he pointed to the spindle-pierced
stack of receipts next to the register, “and Crystal.” He pinged his finger
against the cut-glass tip jar.

“Clever.”

“I do my best work under pressure.” Tim fastened the plastic
lid onto his tea then held the door for her. She pulled the metal accordion
gate shut and fastened a padlock through the loop.

Her skin looked even more luminous under the glow of the
streetlights. With her standing right next to him, he noticed how tiny she was,
nearly a foot shorter than him. “I think I should see you home. In case Bagel Boy
is lurking nearby.”

Jenna let out a breathy laugh. “That’s totally not
necessary.”

“No, I insist. I’ve got a mum and two older sisters back in
London and they’d never let me hear the end of it if they knew I let you walk
home alone after some wanker hassled you.”

“So you plan on doing this every day?” She looked him up and
down and he realized she might be assessing how safe it was to let him, a total
stranger, walk her home.

He raised an eyebrow as he awaited her appraisal. “If
necessary.”

“It’s ten blocks,” she said.

“That’ll be a new ten blocks of New York I get to see then.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“I haven’t even been here twenty-four hours yet, and I
managed to spend most of that eating, sleeping and getting sacked, so there’s
not been much sightseeing.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re going to see any sights on this
walk, but I can point out a few places to eat that serve more than coffee and
pastries.”

Letting Tim walk her home might not be the smartest thing
she’d ever done. But something about him made her want to trust him—maybe
it was the chivalrous act back at the café or maybe she was being a little too
lax with her rules.
Never let a strange guy walk you home.

Their eyes connected for an instant as they waited for the
light and a breeze whipped around the corner of the building. She watched as
Tim’s shoulders bunched up to his ears.

“You really need to wear a jacket this time of year.
Especially at night.” She shifted her messenger bag behind her as they crossed
the street.

“I’m going to have to pick something up. I packed like a
bloody git.”

She smiled wide but turned away. She loved his adorable
British slang, which elevated him far beyond cute.

“This market is better than the bodega by the coffee shop,”
she said, pointing to a Korean grocery with an abundance of produce and flowers
displayed out front. They turned the corner. “And that Russian deli has the
best pierogies.”

“Thanks so much for all these tips. I’m sure I seem
completely helpless.”

“No, you don’t. You’re in a strange place.” They walked
another half block and she came to a halt in front of a 24-hour Duane Reade
drug store. “Do you mind if we stop? I need to pick up a few things. My
roommate is always using my stuff and she never replaces anything.”

He glanced up at the sign. “Brilliant. They only let you
bring a thimbleful of shampoo on the bloody airplane.”

Jenna walked with purpose, knowing exactly which parts of
the store she needed to go to, but quickly learned that Tim was on a different
schedule. He’d hardly made it into the hair care aisle before he started
picking up items and loading them into his arms.

She traipsed back to him, fighting a smile. Even in the
obnoxious fluorescent lights of the store, he was heartbreaking—a good
twenty-four hours of stubble dotting his strong jaw and extending along the
contours of his neck. “I thought you were only here eight weeks,” she said,
nodding at the array of products in his hands.

“Yeah, well.” He twisted his lips. “I like to take care of
my hair. Something my sisters taught me.”

She caught herself staring at his gorgeous, thick locks.
I’d
love to dig a hand in there sometime.
“I think we’re going to need a
basket.”

“I can manage that. I’ll find you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You sure? You might get lost.”

“You can lead the search party.”

She watched him walk away and stole more than a passing
glance at his butt, jeans slung low around his narrow hips making his shoulders
look absurdly broad. She felt the heat rush to her cheeks. She swayed, sensing
her rulebook becoming less relevant by the moment.
Damn.

A few minutes later, Jenna watched Tim make his way down the
toothpaste aisle. “You made it.”

“I had a rough go, but I’m here.” He threw her a sideways
grin. “I asked the sales girl for Smarties, but the American version isn’t the
same as at home.”

“We’ll go back and find you something good before we leave.”
Jenna perused the selection in the aisle. “I think my roommate used my
toothbrush. She won’t admit to it, but it was wet when I went into the bathroom
the other morning.”

“Sounds like your flatmate needs a lesson in proper
etiquette.”

She grabbed a purple one and tossed it in to the basket.
“You have no idea. She’s the worst. I can’t wait until our lease is up and I
can finally get rid of her.”

They walked to the center aisle and made their way farther
into the store. “When’s that?”

“Five months.”

“And you only bought one toothbrush? That’s very
optimistic.” He looked at her with a smile so brilliant it left Jenna dazed.
“Why don’t you just kick her out?”

“I’d love to, but I can’t afford the rent by myself.” She
stopped after a few more steps. “You don’t need to come with me. I had a
boyfriend who refused to be anywhere near this part of the store.”

Tim looked over her shoulder and scrunched up his eyebrows.
“You can’t scare me. My sisters sent me to the market plenty of times for this
stuff.”

She kept her lips pressed together. She didn’t want to blurt
out that he might possibly be the most charming guy she’d ever met. “I’ll be
quick.” She headed toward the spot where her brand of tampons was, at the far
end of what now seemed like an eternally long aisle. She felt his presence
behind her.
Why did I decide to do this now? Why don’t I just tell him the
results of my last pap smear?
She grabbed the blue-and-yellow box. “All
set. Let’s get you your sugar fix.”

After ten minutes in line, they reached the cashier and
Jenna paid for her things first. He peered into her messenger bag when she
opened it.

“What in the world do you have in there?” he asked.

“Oh, supplies. I design jewelry. That’s what I really want
to do. The coffee shop is just to pay the bills. That’s why I can’t dump the
toothbrush-user. All of my money is tied up in my samples.” She held out her
arm to reveal a chunky, silver bracelet.

“Very nice. A creative woman. I like it.”

The cashier swiped Tim’s items across the scanner. “That’ll
be $22.37,” she said in a robotic voice.

He whipped out his wallet, seeming more confident with the
paper money than he had that morning, but Jenna could tell the coins were still
giving him trouble. “How much again?” he asked.

“It’s $22.37,” the cashier answered, resting her hand on her
hip. The guy behind them groaned.

Jenna sifted through what was in his hand. They stood close
and she felt the heat radiating from him, marveling at how comfortable she
already felt around him. It normally took her weeks to be this at ease with a
guy.

Loaded down with bags, they resumed their walk to her apartment.
The wind had picked up and Tim walked with his shoulders hunched. She made a
mental note to help him take care of the jacket situation tomorrow. “You’ll
love the Pretzel M&M’s,” she said. “They’re so good. I thought I was going
to faint when I first tried them.”

“I’m holding you personally responsible if they don’t do it
for me.”

“Let’s crack ’em open. Come here.” She shifted the bags to one
hand and her arm dropped with the added weight.

“Give me those.” He reached out his free hand.

She looped the shopping bags onto his arm and took the candy
from one. She tore the corner and poured a few M&M’s into her hand. She
held them out for him and he smirked, looking at his overloaded arms.

“You’re going to have to feed me.” He leaned closer and she
popped them into his mouth, her thumb brushing his lower lip. He scrunched up
his face and made an exaggerated swallow. “Not my cup of tea.”

“Really?” Her shoulders sagged in disappointment. “You don’t
like them?”

“Not really.” He shook his head then chuckled. “Kidding.
They’re magic.”

Jenna smacked him on the arm, causing his eyes to light up
in the most playfully sexy way. “Very funny.”

“Let me have another,” he said. He bent closer, which caused
her to shudder.

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“I’m sorry. Please, one more?” He opened his mouth and she relented.
He chewed slowly, watching her. “Now you’ve done it. You’ve gone and ruined me
for all other candy-coated treats.”

She giggled like a schoolgirl and pursed her lips to stop.
That
wasn’t even that funny. What’s wrong with me?
He stood very straight as
they walked, as though he was proud of the effect he’d had on her.

They turned on to Jenna’s tree-lined street and she started
to feel sad as they passed each brownstone, coming closer to her own. It was
one of the most fun nights she’d had in a long time—totally unplanned but
completely enjoyable.

“Here we are,” she said, her voice heavy.

Chapter Two

While Tim enjoyed the Pretzel M&M’s, what he couldn’t
stop thinking about was that she’d practically put her finger in his mouth.
More than a little sexy. He stood in front of the stairs leading up to her
building, wondering if he’d ever get a chance to see her apartment.

She turned to him, a look he couldn’t read crossing her
face. Her lips scrunched into a frown as she glanced up at her building. She pointed
toward the second floor. “That would be my roommate.”

He followed her gaze and saw a woman with long black hair
leaping and flailing in front of the window.

“What is she doing? Having some sort of seizure?”

Jenna snorted. “If only. That’s her hobby. She’s in this
creative movement dance group. She practices whenever the mood strikes and the
music is god-awful.”

“I’m truly sorry. That almost makes the toothbrush issue a
good thing by comparison.”

Jenna rubbed her hands together. “It’s really chilly out. I
should let you get home. You live near the café, right? Do you know where
you’re going?”

“Not really,” he confessed.

“Okay, go down three blocks then turn left, then when you
get to the pizza place take a…” She paused, eyes narrowed. “You know what? I’ll
write it down.”

She sorted through her bag, coming up with a pen but no
paper. He transferred all the bags to one hand and patted his pockets, but he
had nothing either.

“Give me your hand.” She clutched his icy fingers between
her warm ones, sending waves of heat through the rest of his body. “Oh my God,
you’re freezing.”

“Well, you know what they say, cold hands…”

“Shoulda worn a jacket. Tomorrow I’m going to show you some
places to shop. I mean, if you want.” She looked suddenly shy as she glanced up
at him.

“That would be great.”

“Well, it’s the least I can do. You did scare off my drunk
customer and carry my tampons home.”

A gust of wind came and he shivered, more from the fact that
she was still holding his hand than from the cold air.

“Okay.” She popped the cap off her pen and started drawing
on his palm. “Let’s get you in the direction of home before you freeze to
death. We’re here.” She put an “x” at the ball of his palm then drew an arrow
toward his pinky. “You need to walk three blocks to Eighth Street, then turn
left.” She drew another arrow straight across the base of his fingers. “Then
turn right when you get to First Avenue.” She drew a third arrow down the
length of his index finger and placed a dot at the tip. “The café’s on that
corner. I trust you can find your way from there.”

“Right.” She looked so lovely he wanted to lean in and kiss
her, but he stopped himself.
Things are going well. Don’t muck it up. You’ve
already got a date of sorts.
He bent his fingers into a gun shape, the
arrow on his index finger still showing. “Looks like you’ve pointed me in the
right direction.”

She groaned, which pleased him immensely.

“So, tomorrow…” He didn’t want to leave without a definite
plan to see her again.

“Yes. I’m working in the morning, not at the café, over at
NYU. I’m a life model for the art classes.”

His breath caught as he opened his mouth but she interrupted
him before he could get a word out.

“Not nude, I wear a leotard. It’s for the animation classes,
they just need to study movement not anatomy.”

He chuckled at the fact that she’d known what he was
thinking, but it didn’t stop him from picturing her without her clothes. He was
feeling warmer by the minute.

“I should be done by noon. The building is on the corner of
Broadway and Eighth. Here.” She took his hand again and wrote on the top. B’way
& 8th. “It’s the School of the Arts building on the corner. Wait by the
front entrance. If you can be up that early.”

“I’ll manage.” He smiled. “But I have to get to an audition
at four.”

“Oh, where?”

“Place called One If By Land. They’ve got an opening for a
pianist.”

“Wow, that’s a nice restaurant. Really fancy. Wait, I
thought you played guitar.” Her brow furrowed, making her look absolutely
adorable. The urge to kiss her returned with a vengeance.

“I do. I’m generally good with my hands.”

Her eyes bugged. “Oh my God, your hands. You’ve got an
audition at one of the swankiest places in Manhattan and I just wrote all over
you.”

She looked so horrified he couldn’t help but laugh. “No
worries, they’re not concerned with what they look like, only what I can do
with them.”

Her lips pulled into a smile that made them look
irresistible. She reached for her bags. “Well, thanks for walking me home. I’ll
see you tomorrow.”

He watched as she trotted up the stairs and keyed into the
building, disappearing behind the heavy wooden door. A chill ran through him
again and he realized he really was cold.

The frigid night air did little to contain the heat that
Jenna stirred inside him though. By the time he got into his apartment, he had
a raging hard-on. He stripped off his clothes and fell into bed, his hand
firmly wrapped around his cock.

It’d been three days since he’d had a wank and he was more
than ready for release. Images of Jenna flooded his mind. The way her hair
cascaded past her delicate shoulders, the gentle swell of her hips, the
enticing bow of her lips each time she smiled. He indulged in long, slow
strokes as he remembered the feel of her finger grazing his mouth. He ran his
tongue over his lip, tasting the sweetness of the candy as he wondered if she’d
taste just as sweet.

He slicked the beads of pre-cum over his swollen tip,
imagining Jenna’s full lips sliding over him. The pressure built deep within
his belly as he tightened his grip, thrusting in and out of his fist. He
pictured her modeling, with clothes, without clothes, the curves of her body,
his hands running over them until she opened herself to him. Warm. Wet.

He stroked faster, opening his eyes just as the thick,
pearly liquid shot out of his cock, splattering across his chest, the farthest
drop reaching his collarbone.
Jesus.
He reached for his boxers to wipe
off, feeling the tension ebb from his body. With visions of Jenna still in his
mind, he drifted off into much-needed sleep.

* * * * *

Jenna thundered down the stairs of her apartment building
the next morning, late as usual. She made it down the sidewalk, dodging an old
guy and his dog, walking double time and pressing the speed dial on her cell.

“Hey,” Natalie answered.

“Guess what?” Jenna asked, waiting impatiently at the corner
for a delivery truck to pass so she could cross. “British Guitar Guy has a
name. It’s Tim. He walked me home last night.”

“No way. How did that happen? Wait, what are you doing
letting a strange guy walk you home?”

“Long story. Let’s just say that he came to my rescue. He’s
not strange, either. He’s sweet. And funny.”

“Oh boy,” Natalie said. There was a rustle on the other end
of the line before she yelled at Charlie to bring out some more bagels. “I take
it you’re considering breaking the no-musician rule?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Or you’re just too chicken to say it.” There was a second
rustle. “Jen, I really gotta run. Things are getting crazy. Talk later?”

“Yeah. Tim and I are going shopping this afternoon.”

“Call me. I want to hear everything.”

Jenna hung up and shoved her phone into the pocket of her
jean jacket. She practically sprinted the last few blocks and dashed across
Astor Place toward the Tisch School of the Arts building. She made it to
Introduction to Animation just in time.

Students were milling about, finding spots on the floor,
pulling out stacks of loose paper and opening boxes of charcoal. Jenna slipped
out of her jacket and loose dress to reveal a plain black leotard and tights.
She stepped to the center of the room, ignoring the disapproving look from
Professor Giles, who was surprisingly uptight for an art teacher.

Standing still in the center of a room for fifty-five
minutes was not an exciting job. Jenna usually passed the time by letting her
mind wander, avoiding unpleasant topics—her roommate at the top of that
list. Today, her mind was unable to wander, returning in an endless loop to the
same subject—Tim.

Professor Giles called out, “Change.”

Jenna placed her hand on her hip and bent her opposite knee,
wiggling her toes, which had gone to sleep. She didn’t know what to make of
Tim. He was unbelievably handsome and sexy too, better looking than any guy
she’d ever dated. He was funny, making her laugh with seemingly no real effort
on his part. He was sweet too. He’d come to her rescue, for God’s sake. There
had to be something wrong with him.
Maybe he’s a murderer. That’s probably
why he had to move from England. He’s dodging the Bobbies or whatever they call
them. The whole musician thing is just a line to pick up women. He has a
chainsaw in that guitar case.

She smiled, remembering the exchange when she’d drawn the
map on his hand. She shook her head when Giles ordered her to change again.
Shopping would be a good chance to get a better gauge on Tim and what he was
really up to. She couldn’t begin to imagine that she would be lucky enough to
have a guy that great just fall into her lap.
Actually, I wish I could fall
into his lap, mess up that hair he loves so much, smooth my hand across his
chest. That could be fun.

Tim was waiting for her after class, leaning against one of
the massive pillars outside the building. She saw him before he saw her. He had
sunglasses on and was already dressed for his audition in a pressed white shirt
with gray tie, dark-wash jeans and black leather shoes. Her breath caught when
he turned. He didn’t hesitate to give her a broad smile as he took long strides
toward her.

“There she is. The model,” he said.

“Figure model. There’s a difference.”

“Right. And you’re sure you wear clothes?”

“Yes, I wear this.” She tugged at the neck of her leotard
beneath her sheer dress. “I tried to get the job reclining naked on a red
velvet settee while men served me grapes, but it was taken.”

He snapped his fingers in disappointment. “The best ones
always are.” He removed his sunglasses and his flickering eyes returned her
gaze.

“You look very handsome.”

“I had to make a good showing for our shopping trip. Don’t
want the salesgirls wondering what you’re doing with a bum like me.” He winked and
put his sunglasses back on. “Shall we?”

Jenna led the way. “I thought we’d go down to some vintage
shops in SoHo. Sound good?”

“I trust you.” Tim walked with his hands shoved in the
pockets of his jeans. Even at midday, a chill remained in the air. “I admit I
haven’t eaten all day, either.”

Jenna shook her head. “All of my recommendations gone to
waste.”

“I know. Sorry. My body clock is squirrelly right now.”

“All right. Food first. I know the perfect place. Falafel
okay?”

“Perfect.”

They made their way across Washington Square Park to Mamoun’s,
a New York institution and some of the best cheap food in the city. It was
packed with the lunchtime rush and the few tall tables outside were taken, so
they decided to walk while they ate.

Jenna took a bite of her pita, the falafel crunchy on the
outside, creamy and hot on the inside. “Careful with the tahini,” she said,
pointing at his mouth. “I don’t want to send you to your audition a complete
mess.”

Tim wiped the sauce from his lips. “Thanks. I don’t think I realized
how hungry I was.” He took his last bite and tossed the paper wrapper in a
trashcan. “I couldn’t fall asleep last night and then I couldn’t wake up this
morning. I kept rolling over and nodding off.”

Her mind flew to the mental image of Tim lazing in bed,
imagining the bare skin of his chest. He looked so delicious wrapped up in that
dress shirt she was curious as hell to see what he looked like underneath it.
“I couldn’t sleep last night either. Too bad. We could have talked on the
phone.”

“Ah. But you haven’t given me your number.”

She smiled and dropped the Mamoun’s bag in the trash before
she stepped to the door of the first shop. “I can fix that.”

He took the door and held it for her, making her tingly when
she passed close to him. “I’m guessing you can fix a lot of things.”

The shop was artfully arranged, everything impeccably
displayed—vintage seemed like more of a misnomer than a description of
the store. The clothing was certainly from another era, but almost everything
was unworn or only very gently used. It had all been cleaned and pressed and
the usual musty basement smell was absent.

Tim went straight for a rack of military jackets and coats.

Jenna joined him, flipping through hangers, coming across a
navy wool pea coat with black buttons. “What about this? It looks like it would
fit.”

“Let’s give it a go.”

Jenna made eye contact with Tim’s reflection as he stood
before the three-way full-length mirror. He slid his arms into the sleeves and
she watched as they met his wrists at the perfect spot. He overlapped the front
and buttoned it. The coat made his eyes shift to a sublimely darker shade and
she found herself drawn to him. She had to pretend to brush away a piece of
lint when she caught herself reaching for his back.

“Well?” he asked, his eyebrows arching, making her dizzy.

The words caught in her throat. As much as he was stunning
in it, she wanted to tell Tim to take off the coat. She longed to loosen his
tie, unbutton his shirt, unfasten his belt. She imagined pulling him into a
fitting room, zipping the black drape closed and running her hand down the
front of his jeans. She saw him stripping away her dress and leotard. His eyes,
full of craving, would wash over her. He would kiss her neck and trail his
mouth to her breasts, his tongue hot against her puckered skin. He’d tell her
he wanted to take her against the mirror, hitch her legs around him, totally in
control. Tim would rock her world, whispering every sexy thing he wanted to do
to her with that velvety voice of his until they collapsed into each other, a
sweaty, breathy heap.