WG2E All-For-Indies Anthologies: Viva La Valentine Edition (33 page)

“No,” she said. “But there isn’t a restaurant
in town with a free table tonight.”

“Okay, okay.” He rubbed his chin in thought.
His fingers looked long and sturdy. “We could get some Chinese, go
back to my place?”

“David.” She patted his arm with her hand,
grateful she’d had a manicure and gone with the dark purple. “I’m
not going to have sex with you tonight.”

He jerked his head back in surprise, his
eyebrows disappearing beneath a lock of his hair. He gathered his
wits and leaned in close. “Celia, you weren’t going to watch a
hockey game tonight, either.”

“You’ve made quite a leap if you think one
thing equals the other.”

“One thing doesn’t equal the other, just like
inviting you to my place for takeout doesn’t mean I propositioned
you.”

“No, no, but the assumption was there.”

“How do you figure?”

“David. You’re an attractive guy. You invited
me to your place at night. You feed me, ply me with wine. With the
vibe going on between us, it would be natural to assume one thing
would lead to another. I’m just telling you straight out I don’t
play that way.”

“What way?” He blinked in surprise. “Are you
telling me you play for the other team?”

“What? No, for goodness sake.” She bumped his
shoulder with hers. “Your ego is astounding. Just because I won’t
have sex with you, you think I’m gay?”

“I didn’t say that, but you made it sound
like…never mind.” He cleared his throat and sat up in his seat.
“Jeez, how did we even get here?”

“You invited me to your place.”

“For dinner!”

“Which implies sex. Look,” she said with a
shrug. “I’m done playing games with men. I have brothers. I know
how this works. I’m telling you up front I’m not that kind of
girl.”

“Okay,” he said with his hands in the air. “I
withdraw my offer.”

She felt the sting, swift and lethal. Their
flirtatious banter, her honest communication about sex and dating,
had morphed into something ugly. Was she being overly cynical,
overly honest, or just plain bitchy on her least favorite day of
the year? “Fine.”

“How about a slice of pizza? No tablecloths
and waiters and no assumptions.”

“Really?” she asked, almost giddy with
relief. “You’d buy me pizza?”

He pursed his lips. “You bought me a hockey
ticket. It’s the least I can do.”

“Yes,” she said, and laid her head on his
shoulder. “It is the least you can do.”

Three

David glanced at the scoreboard at the
beginning of the third period and was shocked to realize the
Rangers were up by two. He was even more shocked to realize he
didn’t care. Not with Celia’s husky laugh in his ear or her leg
resting against his pants. For a guy who didn’t want a date for
Valentine’s, he sure couldn’t be happier to have found one in a
cab.

When he heard Queen’s You’re My Best Friend,
he knew Beth was calling. He watched as she fished the phone from
her purse and declined the call. She immediately texted her friend
and set the phone back in her purse.

“You don’t want to talk to Beth?” he
asked.

“I couldn’t hear her with all the noise.
Besides,” she said, with a flutter of her fingers over his arm. She
was a toucher, a habit that usually got on his nerves, but with
Celia, he couldn’t seem to mind. “I can’t talk about you when
you’re still sitting here.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“I’ll call her later.” Why didn’t her
bluntness annoy him? She’d already announced she wasn’t going to
have sex with him, which, admittedly, had crossed his mind. He
didn’t make a habit of sleeping with women he’d just met, but hey,
if she was up for it…

“So, does everyone on your phone list have
his or her own ring?” he asked.

“Only the special people.”

“Like Beth?”

She gave him a knowing smile. He was
fascinated with the little mole at the base of her right eye.
“Exactly.”

“What does it take to get a ring?”

“Oh, interesting question.” She tapped her
darkly polished fingernail against her lips. “Beth has been my best
friend since college. I was in her wedding and she’s held my hair
back while I’ve vomited.”

“Ah, the vomit rule.”

“Precisely. My mom has a special ring, but
then again, she gave me life. My brother —”

“The cop?” he asked in hopes she’d made that
part up. If a person could get arrested for his thoughts, he’d
already be in the slammer.

“Yes, my brother the cop has his own ring.
It’s the theme song to Hawaii 5-0.”

“I suppose I should be thankful he didn’t
call while I was going through your purse.”

The top of her boot rubbed against his pants
as she uncrossed and crossed her legs to the beat of a blaring Get
Ready For This. He couldn’t get a feel for her body all wrapped up
in the parka, but his imagination had done a nice job of filling in
the blanks.

“My brother would have had a hell of a time
hunting you down from Georgia.”

He turned in his seat to face her as the guy
next to him whistled at a stolen pass. “I thought I detected an
accent. You’re from Georgia?”

“Born and raised,” she said, with a few
additional syllables. “I thought I hid it well.”

“You do, but there’s something about the way
you talk.” Something slow and sexy, if he were being honest. “What
brought you to New York?”

“I was young and single. Beth got accepted to
NYU law and begged me to come with her.”

“Do you like it?”

“It took some getting used to, but after five
years, it feels like home.”

“What do you miss most about Georgia?”

He liked the way she pursed her lips before
she answered, as if puckering for a kiss. Later, he thought. She
might not agree to sex, but he was going to get a taste of her
before the night was through. “My mother’s cooking, the mild
winters, my family.”

“How many brothers do you have?” he
asked.

“Two. The cop is married with two little
girls and my other brother’s a dentist in Charlotte.” She pulled
out a pair of yellow cashmere gloves and put them on her hands.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“A little.”

He reached over and gathered her hands in
his, rubbing them together. Her scent floated up and wrapped around
him like a flame. The crowd went crazy as the Rangers scored
another goal. “This game’s about over,” he said over the chants and
cheers. “How about that pizza?”

She graced him with a dazzling smile. “I
thought you’d never ask.”

• • •

David was taller than she’d expected. He had
a couple inches on her, even with her low-heeled boots. The little
tingle she’d felt when he’d reached over to warm her hands only
intensified when he held her hand as they weaved through the crowd
and kept it until they were outside in the blustery wind. He jogged
to the curb and opened the door of a cab for her. As she settled in
beside him, she couldn’t stop from smiling. “The scene of the
crime.”

“There was no crime committed as nothing was
stolen.”

Only my breath, she thought and wondered if
her heart would be next. “I don’t know,” she teased. “You left the
cab with more than you got in with.”

“I’m getting back in with a whole lot more
than I bargained for.”

He could have kissed her then as close as
they were sitting, as electric was the air running between them
felt. The cab jolted into traffic and forced both of their hands
onto the doors to keep from smashing into the Plexiglas. “Where are
we going?” she asked.

“A little place between here and your
apartment.”

“How do you know — ah, never mind.” She
pushed against the seat as the cab came to a screeching halt at a
red light. “Where do you live?”

“I’m subletting a place in Midtown.”

“Roommates?” she asked.

A sideways grin settled across his rugged
face. “I like living alone.”

“Since you know where I live, I should tell
you I have a giant German shepherd waiting for me at home, but I
don’t like to lie. I will remind you of my brother. The cop.”

“In Georgia.”

“He has a friend on the NYPD.” She looked at
him with a dare in her eyes. “A very good friend.”

“So noted.”

The cab dumped them onto a side street she’d
never traveled and David ushered her towards a dimly lit storefront
with the ingenious name Pizza By The Slice. She appreciated the
warmth and the enticing aromas almost as much as the feel of his
hand on her back. David paid for their slices and beer and added
two cookies he said were made by the owner’s wife.

“They seem to know you here.” She’d seen the
head nods when they entered; the sly way men greet each other, as
opposed to the hugs and squeals from women.

“I used to…date a girl from this part of
town. I don’t miss her, but I sure have missed this pizza.”

“Do tell,” she prodded, and then wished she
hadn’t when his mouth twitched in irritation.

“Nothing to tell. We were together until she
became a psycho.”

“And turned you against all women?”

“For a while,” he admitted, with an
uncomfortable lift of his shoulders.

“How long were you together?”

“Long enough.” He hopped up to retrieve their
slices. Okay, she thought. Don’t ask about the ex, although now she
desperately wanted to know. The pizza tasted delicious, and she
knew that even if nothing came of her night with David Willingham,
she’d at least discovered a pizza place within walking distance of
her apartment. But she really wanted something to come of her
evening with him.

They talked about Atlanta, one of the places
he frequented in his work travels, and the things they’d both done
there. By the time they got up to leave, it was nearing midnight
and it felt good to stretch her legs. The cold air hit her face
like a slap as they stepped onto the street. He took her hand as he
walked her home.

“So what big Valentine’s plans did I pull you
away from?” he asked as they approached the small stoop to her
walkup studio.

“Wine and When Harry Met Sally.”

“A sappy chick-flick? Celia,” he chided. “I
expected better of you.”

“You’ve obviously never seen the movie. It is
a classic appreciated by both men and women.”

“Says you.”

She turned around and let out a breath that
puffed like smoke between them. He hadn’t asked her out or made any
noises about seeing her again. She was pretty bold with men and had
been up until this point with David, but she didn’t intend to make
the next move.

“So,” he said with a clearing of his throat.
“Can I call you?”

“I don’t know,” she joked. “Can you?”

He rolled his eyes. “May I?”

“Of course you may.” She gave him her cell
number, and then pulled out her phone, pushed a few buttons, and
snapped a quick picture in the light from the street lamp.

“What was that for?”

“Give me your number,” she said.

After he’d recited the digits, she turned the
phone so he could see the display. “Now when you call, I’ll know
it’s you.”

“Cool.” He lifted his phone and took a
picture of her. “Now we’re even.” He pocketed the phone. “Do I get
a ring tone?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”

“Not special enough?” he asked.

She lifted her chin and dared him with her
eyes. “That remains to be seen.”

He moved quickly, but not with a jerky grab.
He managed a gentle glide that felt like a dance step with his
hands on her hips. He shielded the light and cast his face in the
shadows. His body felt hard beneath her gloved hands that pressed
against his chest. “Maybe this will help.”

His lips were cold as they touched the corner
of her mouth in a deliberate near miss that left her longing for
more. He didn’t disappoint as he angled his head for a direct hit,
a knowing look in those deceptive green eyes. David Willingham,
hockey lover, consultant, and beloved uncle to Maddie sure knew how
to kiss. Light, fluttering brushes of his lips teased her mouth to
open and expel a sigh as his tongue swept over her teeth. Her sigh
turned into a moan as she grabbed the single remaining thread of
sanity and pushed away with a shaky breath.

“David, you’re full of surprises.”

“That remains to be seen.” He stepped back
and stuffed his hands in his pants pockets. “Go inside, Celia, and
lock your door.”

She used her key to unlock the outside door
to the building and turned to see him standing where she’d left
him, watching her with hungry eyes. “Thanks for returning my purse,
David.”

“It was my pleasure, Celia. Sweet
dreams.”

“Definitely,” she said as she closed the door
and stared out the glass as he turned and walked away. She patted
her hand over her drumming heart and skipped up the stairs.

Four

“Hey, man.” Brad Howell rested his sizable
shoulder against the frame of David’s office door. “How was the
game?”

“What game?” David asked.

“What game? The Rangers game. Pretty sweet
seat, huh?”

“Oh, yeah.” David removed his hands from the
keyboard and sat back in his chair. “I didn’t sit in your
seat.”

“Why not?”

“Long story,” he said with a shake of his
head. The last thing he wanted to talk about with McGiven’s biggest
gossip was his date with Celia. “I brought a friend and needed
another ticket.”

“Dude, that seat was on the ice. I could have
sold that seat.” He lifted his hands in the air. “No wonder you
don’t remember the game.”

Dave gave a non-committal grunt and hoped
he’d move on. Instead, Brad perched on the corner of his desk and
drummed his fingers on a stack of files.

“So who’s the friend?”

“No one you know.”

“Would this friend be a girl?”

“She would.”

“I thought you didn’t do Valentine’s?” Brad
said. “I gave you my ticket out of admiration for you not kowtowing
to the whole holiday deal. What gives?”