Mark Taylor: Genesis (Prequel in the Mark Taylor Series) (16 page)

Heat climbed Mark’s cheeks at the backhanded compliment. He decided to play along with the teasing. “So, are you saying I don’t look tough?” Turning, he straightened to appear as tall as possible, and did the muscle man flex with his arms, his face a stern mask.

Bursting out in laughter, she shook her head. “That’s not what I meant, but now that you mention it, if that’s your ‘mean’ look, you better work on it a bit. I think even a shy five year old wouldn’t be afraid of you.”

“Aw man, that hurts!” Mark shook his head in mock despair and pulled the iced tea out of the fridge.

“Where are the glasses?” Jessica stood in front of the cabinets, her eyebrow raised.

“The one on your right.” He pulled out a tray of ice cubes and set them on the breakfast bar alongside the pitcher.

She took two glasses and brought them over. For her, he would drink iced tea. After he had poured two glasses, he pulled a bar stool out from under the bar and slid a second one out for her. “We can sit here instead of the sofa. Honestly, it’s easier for me to sit here.” He sat with a sigh.

“Great view!”

He was so used to the sight of Lake Michigan in the distance, he had forgotten how lucky he was to have an east view that wasn’t impeded by other buildings. By some stroke of luck, there was a thin corridor of low buildings which stretched between his loft and the lakefront. While he was far enough away that the lake was just a thin blue strip, on a clear day like this, it was beautiful.

“Yeah. I got lucky. This building hardly ever has vacant apartments, but I knew the guy who was leaving. He was a photographer too, but decided to pack up and move to New York to try his hand there. He gave me the tip that this apartment and the studio would both become available. Before that, I had a really dingy studio west of here and a small apartment on the other side of the Kennedy. It was a hassle to go back and forth from the studio to the apartment, so even though it costs a bit more, it was worth it.” There he was, rambling again.

“Well, it’s really nice.”

After that, they fell into an easy conversation. They compared notes about their neighborhoods, she offered a cute story about her little niece, and he told stories about growing up in a small town in Wisconsin and how he had been so naïve when he had first moved to Chicago.

Before he knew it, they were making sandwiches. She chose turkey and cheese, with spinach, on wheat bread, and he picked pastrami, cheese and mustard on rye. He said a silent thank you to his mom for leaving him so well stocked. He normally was lucky to have a loaf of white bread that wasn’t moldy, let alone a choice of wheat or rye. When he told her that he had no idea what else he had, and explained about his mom’s shopping expedition, Jessie—that’s what she said to call her—laughed and did a little detective work in his fridge, finding red grapes and strawberries, which they added to their meal.

Mark mentioned the wonderful food he had eaten in Afghanistan and that seemed to pique Jessie’s interest.

“I kept copies of some of my best photos from the trip, but the rest I gave to my friend, Mohommad. The book is his idea. I was just there to help with the photos. If he ever gets it published, I’ll get a percent of the royalty, but it’s been a few years, and doubt it’ll ever hit a bookstore’s shelves.”

She shuffled through the photos, stopping on some, her face serious and full of concern. “These are…I want to say gorgeous, but that’s not quite right.” Holding a photo showing one of the burqa-clad beggars, she shook her head and finished her thought, “Unreal. That’s what they are. Unreal.”

Mark told her about the trip, about the stark beauty of the land, and the friendliness of the people towards visitors, but how it contrasted with the brutality he had witnessed.

It was midafternoon when she glanced at her watch and mentioned having an errand to run before traffic got too bad, Mark felt a pang of disappointment. It had been the most pleasant afternoon he had experienced in a long time, and he didn’t want it to end. Asking a woman out on a date wasn’t new to him, but this was different because he had screwed up the first date with Jessica and only a brave woman would dare to take another chance after that fiasco. One thing in his favor was that she was a cop, and that meant she was brave. His courage fortified with that rationalization, he limped beside her to the door. He reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out a five-dollar bill.

“Here — for the toothpaste. I appreciate that you took the time to get it for me.”

Jessie covered his hand with her hand, not allowing him to remove any bills, and smiled. “That’s okay. There’s no charge this time.” The smile faltered and she shrugged. “Besides, I feel like I sort of owed you one. If I would have listened to your warning, you might not have been shot in the first place.”

The last thing he had expected was an apology, and even though she hadn’t really said she was sorry, it was pretty close. “You don’t owe me anything. I didn’t have any proof for you.”

She tilted her head. “Why did you go back there if you knew there would be a shooting?”

He almost told her, but decided to use the answer as an enticement to go out with him. “You know, I could tell you all about my motivations over dinner…soon.”

“We’ve been down that road before, Mark.”

“I know, and I wouldn’t blame you for saying no, but I can promise that nothing like before will happen this time.” He felt comfortable making that promise because he was out of commission for a while.

The seriousness left her eyes and she crossed her arms and gave him a flirty grin. “You promise? I suppose we could try one more time. What evening would be a good evening for you to confess your reasons for going back?”

Score!
Grinning, he said, “Friday? About seven? Any place in particular you’d like to go?”

She shook her head. “Surprise me.”

“Okay. I can do that.”

“Can you drive like that?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Good thing it wasn’t my right leg.” He resisted the strong urge to kiss her goodbye, not wanting to rush her. He would save their first kiss for their date. And this date would be a hundred times better than the first one. Still, it felt awkward standing there, and when she made a move to give him a hug, he leaned into it, wrapping an arm around her. “I’ll call you.”

Mark tried to open the car door for Jessie, but his injured leg slowed him down, and by the time he circled the car, she was already out. It was a good thing too, because the valet had barely let her get out before he drove the Jeep down the street.

Jessie raised an eyebrow at the retreating vehicle. “Wow, he was in a hurry.”

“I guess I should have driven my Bentley instead of the beater.”

She smiled. “A Bentley, huh?”

When he grinned, she caught her breath. The man cleaned up very well, and dressed in a charcoal suit and tie, he could have passed for a movie star. She was glad she had decided to wear her royal blue dress after all. She had almost chosen a more casual dress, but had changed her mind at the last second.

He held his hand out, inviting her to walk a step ahead of him. His hand was warm through her gown as it rested lightly at the small of her back. He did a quick hobble step to reach in front of her to open the door and she almost told him it was okay, that she knew it was hard for him to do these things right now, but she held her tongue, not wanting to embarrass him. She already noted that he was limping less tonight, so maybe his leg was just healing faster than she thought it would.

Besides, she could get used to this kind of treatment. Being a detective and surrounded by a bunch of guys at work, it was inevitable that they began treating her like one of them. On one hand, it was exactly what she had wanted – to be one of the guys— but just because she was a cop didn’t mean she didn’t want to be treated as a woman when out on a date. She had dated a few police officers, but they had been coarse, like they were on a stakeout instead of a date, and she hadn’t repeated the outings with any of them.

“This is beautiful, Mark.” She took in the mahogany chairs and matching trim, gold accents and deep red walls. The ceiling was white but had a large oval painted red, giving the illusion that the ceiling was domed. The tables were covered in snowy white linen, keeping the room from appearing too dark, and gilt framed art adorned the walls.

The maître d’ showed them to their table, and after he left, Jessie set her small purse on the table and glanced around at the full restaurant. Her mouth watered at the scent of fresh bread and other aromas that wafted from the kitchen. On a cop’s salary, she didn’t normally eat in a really nice restaurant. “The food must be amazing here.”

Mark appeared to be taking it all in too. “I hope so. I’ve heard good things about it.”

“I’m sure it is. I mean, look at all these people. They must know something, right?”

The waiter appeared and asked if they would like a drink to start. Mark raised an eyebrow at her. “Jessie? Do you have a preference?”

“A Chardonnay would be nice.”

Mark chose a Scotch. They made small talk while waiting for their drinks and the conversation was a little stilted.

Once the drinks arrived and they had placed their orders, Jessie swirled the wine and took a sip, then set it down. “So…you promised me details.”

“Excuse me?”

She tilted her head. “Come on. You said you would tell me why you ended up at Cabrini-Green. I mean, if you knew there was going to be a shooting, why in the world would you go anywhere near there?”

He studied her for a moment, then glanced away and took a long pull of his Scotch. “It’s not that big of a deal. I was hoping I was wrong about the shooting, but in case I wasn’t, I thought I could help—maybe warn the cop or something.”

“So you really were trying to save him? The undercover cop thought you were trying to blow his cover.”

He shook his head and studied the golden swirl of liquid in his glass. “No. That would be the last thing I wanted to do.”

She believed him. He hadn’t even mentioned the lack of thanks he had received from the cop he had saved. “Did you ever consider that you might be shot instead? I mean, it was pretty reckless of you to tackle him. You basically took a bullet meant for him. That kind of makes you a hero.”

Mark’s jaw clenched, and he set the glass down. “Look, I know I promised you answers, but the truth is, it’s not that exciting. I showed up because I was curious. I saw the cop, decided to follow him, and then heard the car come around the corner at a high rate of speed. I figured that was the car with the shooters, and I reacted. That’s it. I didn’t plan on saving the guy, and if given a second chance, I’m not sure I would do the same thing, so that doesn’t exactly make me a hero.” After holding her gaze for a moment, he broke eye contact , and rubbed the back of his neck, his expression sheepish. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to go off like that. I just would really like to drop the subject and enjoy a nice dinner.”

She bit her lip and regarded him. He really believed he wasn’t a hero. In her eyes, that made him even more of one, but she just nodded and remarked on how wonderful the hot fresh rolls smelled and took one from the basket.

Dinner progressed, and she was happy that after the tension of discussing the shooting, they were able to fall back into the comfortable conversation style they had shared previously at Mark’s loft. The meal was fabulous, and they had decided to split a dessert. They dug in, laughing at how full they were, but it was so good, they couldn’t pass it up. She had another glass of wine, but he switched to a soft drink since he was driving.

Afterward, it was still early, and Mark walked her up to her door. She didn’t want the date to end, and he didn’t seem to either, but as nice as the date had been, she wasn’t comfortable inviting him in…yet.  The night was gorgeous, with a full moon and about as many stars as were possible to see in the middle of a large city.  The air was still soft with only a little chill. On an impulse, she took his hand, and said, “Let’s go for a walk.”

After an initial look of surprise, he gave her a slow smile. “I’d like that.”

“Oh wait. I forgot about your leg.”

“It’s fine. After such a big meal, and sitting for so long, it’ll be good to stretch it out.”

He hadn’t relinquished her hand, and they descended the few steps from her porch to the ground and strolled down the street. Warm yellow light spilled out of some houses, and laugh tracks to sitcoms floated through open windows, adding to the background noise of distant traffic and an occasional cricket.

Without realizing it, she had huddled close to Mark as they walked. The dress had only thin straps over her shoulders, and goose bumps rose on her skin. Although the day had been warm, the temperature was only low sixties now by her estimate. She should have grabbed a sweater before setting off on the walk.

Mark stopped and looked her for a moment before releasing her hand shrugging out of his suit jacket, draping it over her shoulders. “Here. You must be cold.”

She smiled, drinking in the smell of his cologne mixed with his own scent. Pulling it more firmly over her shoulders, she held the edges closed. “Thanks.”