We Will Always Have the Closet (4 page)

Confused, her mind still foggy with the heat of his kiss, she opened the door, walked in, and slammed it behind her, leaving him outside in the semi-darkness of the porch. Like a teenager on her first date, Petra ran to the nearest window, and without turning on the lights, spied on him from behind the curtains. He stood by the door for a little while, paralyzed, obviously taken aback by what had just happened. Eventually, he turned his back to the door and allowed his body to slide all the way down until he was sitting on the cold stone stoop, hands on his head, breathing hard, looking despondent and lonesome. Her heart bled a little. She didn’t want to hurt him. After a few minutes, he stood up underneath the porch light, a smile creeping up to his lips.

“Why am I so worried about this?” he yelled out loud. “You want me as much as I want you. I’m willing to wait as long as you need, because I’m sure the two of us are destined to be one.” Right before he turned on his heels to back away, he added, “You just wait and see, Petra. Just wait and see.”

***

Petra

Not bad, not bad at all
. She twirled to check out the effect on her beautiful—and borrowed—gown. Somehow she had managed to convince an old friend of hers to allow her to wear a gown worn only once for a very special wedding—her own. Petra had to admit she had been surprised Alina ceded so easily to her strange request, but then again, she probably had a guilty conscience. Alina had been so busy with her own life that she hadn’t been much of a support through Petra’s divorce.
Water under the bridge
. After all, everyone had problems and was allowed some time to sort them out. The important thing was that she seemed to be back in Petra’s life. As a fringe benefit of their renewed friendship, there was this dress. The gown was absolutely stunning; the strapless bodice of black lace accentuated her small breasts while funneling down to her hips in black silk and then flaring all the way to the floor in fluid midnight folds. In the back, the beautiful black gown plunged teasingly all the way to her lower back, sexy and elegant all in one. She was ready.

Clutching her petite silk purse, she left the ladies’ room and headed toward the reception area where the gala was taking place. The Linden Galleria was a beautifully designed modern building that served as the perfect backdrop to her ex-husband’s equally exquisite art collection. Jonas was on a retreat at Crystal Mountain, otherwise she would have never dared crashing this party. Her intentions were not totally legitimate. She hadn’t even been honest with Alina about it. On one hand, she did want to see all the amazing pieces of art her husband so diligently collected with his ever-growing fortune. However, she had a second reason for the visit, one for which she felt only mildly guilty. But first, she was going to enjoy the caviar, the expensive champagne—even though she really didn’t drink—admire the beautiful clothes, and salivate over the products of human creativity and artistry.

Hoping she wouldn’t meet anyone from her married circle, Petra made her way to the buffet table where she could see, even from a distance, tantalizing trays of shrimp and caviar, something she hadn’t tasted since her divorce. Her family and friends had all chided her for not—to quote her more colorful relatives—taking Jonas to the cleaners. “He’s loaded,” they all chimed in, “and he did you wrong.” Which was true, of course, but her pride just wouldn’t allow her to take any money from a two-timing, ungrateful, narcissistic pig. Yes, he was devastatingly handsome and cultured, brilliant and resourceful, but he was also untrustworthy and a master liar. As strange as it may sound for most people who knew how much in love with him she had been, she had gotten over him pretty easily. After all, he really wasn’t who she thought he was, so she had been in love with an imaginary man all along. She still loved that man, but she was well aware that he had never existed outside her mind and heart.

Just as Petra’s pride did not allow her to accept any monetary compensation from him, it also drove her to this art gala. The hope was that she might find what she so desperately wanted somewhere in his office in the upper floors of the galleria. When she couldn’t find it in his home, she had started looking elsewhere. Where could he possibly have hidden it? She was determined to find it, even if that meant breaking the law ever so slightly.

The caviar was delicious, and for a moment she forgot why she was really there, enjoying the salty, slightly grainy texture of the fishy delicacy. The shrimp was next on her list. Seafood was a weakness of hers, only surpassed by her love for art. One fed the body, the other the soul. As she stood in a corner, looking oddly at home while munching away at the briny food, she noticed the security guards leaving their posts on the staircase, presumably to go to the bathroom. Hands hastily wiped, Petra sped toward the stairs, climbing the steps two at a time. Luckily, she had always been good at running in heels. While the security guards wouldn’t be away for very long, she knew Jonas’ office was large and she would certainly find an easy place to hide if necessary.

She cracked the door open and slipped inside, cautious not to get her dress caught. The lights were on, so she started her search right away. Jonas sure had a lot of storage in this office—drawers, boxes, file cabinets, closets, trash cans…hell, it would take her all night at this rate.

“Do you need a hand?” she heard a voice from behind. Her heart jumped to her throat as she turned around suddenly, trying to think of a believable excuse for her presence there. A now familiar face stared back at her. “You!” she yelled, forgetting she was trying to be inconspicuous.

“Shhh…are you crazy?” he exclaimed in a whisper while reaching out to her. “They’ll hear you.”

“I just can’t get rid of you,” she protested in a hushed voice. “What the hell…”

“I’m not the one sneaking around like a criminal,” he pointed out. “What are you doing, anyway? Should you even be here? Isn’t this Linden’s private office?”

“If you must know, I used to work for him,” she lied, looking behind him to make sure they hadn’t attracted any unwanted attention. “So, in a way I have the right to be here.”

“I don’t think that would hold water in court.” He laughed. “His employee…what are you looking for exactly? You must want it really bad to take such risks. First the house, now here.” He was looking at her with an expression that said he didn’t believe her for a minute.

“None of your business,” she responded with bravado. Waving her hands in front of her as if shooing him away, she added, “Now, get out of here and leave me be.”

His attractive, wicked smile made an appearance. “No way, sweetheart,” he said, taking a step closer. “I’m not leaving, so you better tell me what you’re up to.”

“You…” Voices approaching outside the door interrupted the insult that was burning on her tongue. “Shit, they’re coming! Shit, shit, shit…”

Sam was looking at her incredulously, half amused, half irritated. “Is that how you solve problems? Stand paralyzed and cuss?” Her eyes shot daggers at him, but he dismissed it. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her toward the far wall. “Let’s hide in that closet.”

Petra stopped so abruptly, he almost crashed into her. “Another closet?” she exclaimed, exasperated. “Do you have some kind of fetish?”

He didn’t seem amused anymore. “Listen, do you see any other place where we can both hide?” She glanced around her, frantically looking for a hiding place that did not involve a closet and found nothing big enough. “Well?”

Giving up, she grabbed his arm and dashed to the closet, immersing them in darkness…again. She was starting to think God was trying to tell her something. What, she had absolutely no idea and was afraid to ask. At least this was a much bigger closet and they did not have to stand close enough to touch. She sat in a corner, surrounded by piles of printer paper. Sam sat opposite to her, his long legs pulled up to his chin as he studied her in the darkness. A thin ray of light from a crack in the door illuminated her face. He stroked his own arm and caressed her with his piercing eyes. Suddenly she felt naked with her slender neck and bare shoulders exposed to his scrutiny. From the corner of her eye she noticed how shivers raked his body and how he slightly shook his head as to dispel unpleasant thoughts—or maybe too pleasant.

“That’s a nice dress,” he said, his eyes sliding down from her shoulders to her unadorned décolletage. Another shiver crossed her abdomen. Her eyebrows raised in disapproval while her index right finger was placed in front of her mouth in the international signal for quiet. “Well, it is,” he continued in a quieter voice.

The voices were now in the office. “I thought I heard voices in here,” a male voice said. “Look under the desk. Last week I found someone hiding under there.” The clatter of chairs and other furniture pieces being moved were heard. “No, I guess there’s no one here. Let’s go. I’m getting hungry.” They heard the door opening and closing and the office was quiet again. As if by mutual assent, they sat quietly for a few more minutes to make sure the guards were gone.

“I think it’s safe now,” Sam said, cracking the closet door open and peeking outside. “Let’s go.” They both crawled out and Petra got up in what she was pretty sure was a very inelegant way. It wasn’t easy to do it elegantly strapped to a ball gown and stiletto heels. Sam, on the other hand, fluidly stood up as if his legs had some sort of spring system built in. “Are you going to tell me what you were looking for?”

Petra laughed, wiping imaginary dust bunnies off her borrowed dress. “Right. And I’m Santa Claus,” she snapped.

“A very sexy Santa, I say.” It was so hard to be mad at him when he was constantly flirting with her. “Come on, Petra, tell me,” he begged, holding one of her hands. “What do you want so badly?”

Hesitating for a second, she allowed herself to get lost in his green eyes. No, she wouldn’t tell him, as tempting as that was. “We better get out of here.” she said, totally avoiding an answer. “The guards will be back soon enough.”

Resigned, Sam let out a loud sigh, grabbed her hand and guided them both to the door. Looking both ways before leaving the office, Sam shuddered against her small figure pressed to his side. They walked stealthily and quickly across the upper floor and somehow managed to go down the staircase unnoticed. In a corner, the chamber quartet violinists caressed their instruments, producing a Viennese waltz that wafted into the air like perfume. Several couples now danced, enchanted by the magical music. Sam wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. “Let’s dance, Cinderella,” he said, breathing in her ear.

Meaning to protest, Petra yielded to his embrace instead and allowed him to sweep her across the floor in a surprisingly skilled three-step elegant waltz. She had always loved the waltz. It reminded her of dancing with her father when she was a little girl, her small feet resting on top of his size eleven shoes, twirling away in big circles. She had once dreamed of being a graceful dancer in a ball gown, spinning around a stately hall in Austria with a dashing young man. Now, in the arms of this beautiful man, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to believe in that magic again.

The music finally began to wind down and suddenly, they were standing still in the middle of the dance floor, Sam still holding her in his arms, with his warm hands flat against her bare back. His chin rested on top of her head and her face nestled in his neck. She could smell his fresh scent, a mixture of soap and a subtle aftershave, and she realized she liked it. She really liked it! Awakened from this dream by the sudden realization that they were standing in the middle of an art gallery holding each other amongst a crowd of people, Petra pushed away abruptly.

“Prickly Petra is back,” Sam commented with a crooked smile. “Why don’t you allow yourself a little down time?”

Bullets in her eyes, Petra could almost feel the bristling of her skin at his words. “I don’t know what you mean nor do I care to find out,” she spat, turning forcefully away from him and stepping away. His arm shot forward and grabbed hold of hers, stopping her in her tracks and twisting her back to face him. “Let me go.”

His smoldering eyes scanned her from head to toe. “Did I tell you that you look beautiful?” he said quite unexpected. With a gentle pull, Sam drew her closer. “I so want to kiss those lips,” he whispered, mouth dangerously and deliciously close to hers, daring her. In an instant, the world around them ceased to exist. Forgetting about the high-end crowd, the waiters walking around with trays full of cocktails, the small chamber orchestra in the corner, the amazing art on the walls and on pedestals, their bodies melded into each other. Lips met in a moist, hungry kiss that left both of them breathless.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else,” Sam whispered when they finally came up for air.

Is he on fire like I am?
Petra’s body tingled and craved release, fully aware of his warm body reacting to hers. Her half-closed eyes stared at him, unfocused and dreamy. “Where?” she asked incongruously. At that moment, that spot in the center of a crowded art exhibition felt just right. Why change it? “I’m okay here,” she whispered, inching her lips toward his again.

Sam laughed softly. “No, no,” he said, taking a quick look around him. “I think we’ve attracted enough attention, sweetheart.” For the first time, Petra was aware of her surroundings. Curious faces—lots of them—were looking at them, some with a smile, others not so kindly. She took a deep breath and almost stumbled on weak legs when Sam let go of his tight embrace. “Shall we?” he asked, his hand gently prodding her toward the front door. Like an automaton, she moved along with him and barely registered the warm shawl he placed over her shoulders to protect her from the outside chill. However, once the cold air of a typical Seattle evening hit her full force, she snapped out of her trance with a jolt.