Born in Ice
Page 65
“Thanks, Marcia. Give my best to Milt.” Pleased with himself, he turned back to Brianna. “Want to look around some more?”
Numb, she merely shook her head. “Why do you do that?” she managed when they were on the street again. “How do you make it impossible to say no when I mean no.”
“You’re welcome,” he said lightly. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry. Let’s get a hot dog.”
“Gray.” She stopped him. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had,” she said solemnly. “And so are you.”
“Good.” He grabbed her hand and led her to the next corner, calculating that he’d softened her up enough so that she’d let him buy her the perfect dress for the premiere.
She argued. She lost. To balance things out Gray backed off when she insisted on paying for her trinkets for Ireland herself. He amused himself helping her figure her change with the unfamiliar American money she’d gotten at the airport bank. It fascinated him that she seemed more dazzled by the toy store than by the jewelry or dress shops they’d visited. And when inspiration hit, he discovered her even more enthralled with a kitchen specialty store.
Delighted with her, he carted her bags and boxes back to the hotel, then charmed her into bed, spinning out time with long, luxurious lovemaking.
He wined and dined her at Le Cirque, then in a rush of nostalgic romanticism, took her dancing at the Rainbow Room, enjoying as much as she the out-of-time decor and big band sound.
Then he loved her again, until she slept exhausted beside him, and he lay wakeful.
He lay wakeful a long time, smelling the roses he’d given her, stroking the silk of her hair, listening to her quiet, even breathing.
Somewhere during that twilight time of half sleep, he thought of how many hotels he’d slept in alone. How many mornings he’d awakened alone, with only the people he created inside his head for company.
He thought of how he preferred it that way. He always had. And how, with her curled beside him, he wasn’t quite able to recapture that sensation of solitary contentment.
Surely he would again, when their time was up. Even half dreaming he warned himself not to dwell on tomorrow, and certainly not on yesterday.
Today was where he lived. And today was very nearly perfect.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
By the following afternoon Brianna was still dazzled enough with New York to try to look everywhere at once. She didn’t care if she appeared so obviously the tourist, snapping pictures with her camera, staring up, her neck craned back, to see the very top of the spearing buildings. If she gawked, what of it?
New York was a noisy and elaborate sideshow designed to stun the senses.
She pored over the guidebook in their suite, making careful lists and dutifully crossing off each sight she’d seen.
Now she had to face the prospect of a business lunch with Gray’s agent.
“Arlene’s terrific,” Gray assured Brianna as he hustled her along the street. “You’ll like her.”
“But this lunch.” Though she slowed her pace, he didn’t allow her to hang back as she would have preferred.
“It’s like a business meeting. I should wait for you somewhere, or perhaps join you when you’ve finished. I could go to Saint Patrick’s now, and—”
“I told you I’d take you to Saint Pat’s after lunch.”
And he would, she knew. He was more than willing to take her anywhere. Everywhere. Already that morning she’d stood at the top of the Empire State Building, marveling. She’d had a subway ride, eaten breakfast in a deli.
Everything she’d done, everything she’d seen was whirling around in her head like a kaleidoscope of color and sound.
Still, he promised more.
But the prospect of having lunch with a New York agent, an obviously formidable woman, was daunting. She’d have found some firm way of excusing herself, perhaps even inventing a headache or fatigue, if Gray hadn’t seemed so excited by the idea.
She watched as he casually stuffed a bill into a tin cup of a man dozing against the side of a building. He never missed one. Whatever the hand-printed sign might say—homeless, out of work, Vietnam vet—it got his attention. And his wallet.
Everything got his attention, she mused. He missed nothing and saw everything. And those small acts of kindness to strangers others seemed not even to admit existed were an innate part of him.
“Hey, bud, need a watch? Got some nice watches here. Only twenty bucks.”
A slim black man opened a briefcase to display an array of Gucci and Cartier knockoffs. “Got a real nice watch for the lady here.”
To Brianna’s dismay, Gray stopped. “Yeah? They got works?”
“Hey.” The man grinned. “What do I look like? They keep the time, man. Look just like the ones you pay a thousand for down on Fifth.”
“Let’s see.” Gray chose one while Brianna bit her lip. The man looked dangerous to her, the way his eyes were shifting right and left. “Get hassled much on this corner?”
“Nah. I got a rep. Nice watch there, quality, look pretty on the lady. Twenty bucks.”
Gray gave the watch a shake, held it to his ear. “Fine.” He passed the man a twenty. “Couple of beat cops heading this way,” he said mildly and tucked Brianna’s hand in his arm.
When she looked back, the man was gone.
“Were they stolen?” she asked, awed.
“Probably not. Here you go.” He fastened the watch on her wrist. “It might run for a day—or a year. You can never tell.”
“Then why did you buy it?”
“Hey, the guy’s got to make a living, doesn’t he? The restaurant’s up here.”
That distracted her enough to have her tug on the jacket of her suit. She felt drab and countrified, and foolish with her little I Love New York bag holding her Empire State souvenirs.
Nonsense, she assured herself. She met new people all the time. She enjoyed new people. The problem was, she thought as Gray ushered her into the Four Seasons, this time it was Gray’s people.
She tried not to stare as he led her up the steps.
“Ah, Mr. Thane.” The ma?tre d’ greeted him warmly. “It’s been too long. Ms. Winston is already here.”
They crossed the room with its long gleaming bar, the linen-decked tables already filled with the lunch crowd. A woman rose as she spotted Gray.
Numb, she merely shook her head. “Why do you do that?” she managed when they were on the street again. “How do you make it impossible to say no when I mean no.”
“You’re welcome,” he said lightly. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry. Let’s get a hot dog.”
“Gray.” She stopped him. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had,” she said solemnly. “And so are you.”
“Good.” He grabbed her hand and led her to the next corner, calculating that he’d softened her up enough so that she’d let him buy her the perfect dress for the premiere.
She argued. She lost. To balance things out Gray backed off when she insisted on paying for her trinkets for Ireland herself. He amused himself helping her figure her change with the unfamiliar American money she’d gotten at the airport bank. It fascinated him that she seemed more dazzled by the toy store than by the jewelry or dress shops they’d visited. And when inspiration hit, he discovered her even more enthralled with a kitchen specialty store.
Delighted with her, he carted her bags and boxes back to the hotel, then charmed her into bed, spinning out time with long, luxurious lovemaking.
He wined and dined her at Le Cirque, then in a rush of nostalgic romanticism, took her dancing at the Rainbow Room, enjoying as much as she the out-of-time decor and big band sound.
Then he loved her again, until she slept exhausted beside him, and he lay wakeful.
He lay wakeful a long time, smelling the roses he’d given her, stroking the silk of her hair, listening to her quiet, even breathing.
Somewhere during that twilight time of half sleep, he thought of how many hotels he’d slept in alone. How many mornings he’d awakened alone, with only the people he created inside his head for company.
He thought of how he preferred it that way. He always had. And how, with her curled beside him, he wasn’t quite able to recapture that sensation of solitary contentment.
Surely he would again, when their time was up. Even half dreaming he warned himself not to dwell on tomorrow, and certainly not on yesterday.
Today was where he lived. And today was very nearly perfect.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
By the following afternoon Brianna was still dazzled enough with New York to try to look everywhere at once. She didn’t care if she appeared so obviously the tourist, snapping pictures with her camera, staring up, her neck craned back, to see the very top of the spearing buildings. If she gawked, what of it?
New York was a noisy and elaborate sideshow designed to stun the senses.
She pored over the guidebook in their suite, making careful lists and dutifully crossing off each sight she’d seen.
Now she had to face the prospect of a business lunch with Gray’s agent.
“Arlene’s terrific,” Gray assured Brianna as he hustled her along the street. “You’ll like her.”
“But this lunch.” Though she slowed her pace, he didn’t allow her to hang back as she would have preferred.
“It’s like a business meeting. I should wait for you somewhere, or perhaps join you when you’ve finished. I could go to Saint Patrick’s now, and—”
“I told you I’d take you to Saint Pat’s after lunch.”
And he would, she knew. He was more than willing to take her anywhere. Everywhere. Already that morning she’d stood at the top of the Empire State Building, marveling. She’d had a subway ride, eaten breakfast in a deli.
Everything she’d done, everything she’d seen was whirling around in her head like a kaleidoscope of color and sound.
Still, he promised more.
But the prospect of having lunch with a New York agent, an obviously formidable woman, was daunting. She’d have found some firm way of excusing herself, perhaps even inventing a headache or fatigue, if Gray hadn’t seemed so excited by the idea.
She watched as he casually stuffed a bill into a tin cup of a man dozing against the side of a building. He never missed one. Whatever the hand-printed sign might say—homeless, out of work, Vietnam vet—it got his attention. And his wallet.
Everything got his attention, she mused. He missed nothing and saw everything. And those small acts of kindness to strangers others seemed not even to admit existed were an innate part of him.
“Hey, bud, need a watch? Got some nice watches here. Only twenty bucks.”
A slim black man opened a briefcase to display an array of Gucci and Cartier knockoffs. “Got a real nice watch for the lady here.”
To Brianna’s dismay, Gray stopped. “Yeah? They got works?”
“Hey.” The man grinned. “What do I look like? They keep the time, man. Look just like the ones you pay a thousand for down on Fifth.”
“Let’s see.” Gray chose one while Brianna bit her lip. The man looked dangerous to her, the way his eyes were shifting right and left. “Get hassled much on this corner?”
“Nah. I got a rep. Nice watch there, quality, look pretty on the lady. Twenty bucks.”
Gray gave the watch a shake, held it to his ear. “Fine.” He passed the man a twenty. “Couple of beat cops heading this way,” he said mildly and tucked Brianna’s hand in his arm.
When she looked back, the man was gone.
“Were they stolen?” she asked, awed.
“Probably not. Here you go.” He fastened the watch on her wrist. “It might run for a day—or a year. You can never tell.”
“Then why did you buy it?”
“Hey, the guy’s got to make a living, doesn’t he? The restaurant’s up here.”
That distracted her enough to have her tug on the jacket of her suit. She felt drab and countrified, and foolish with her little I Love New York bag holding her Empire State souvenirs.
Nonsense, she assured herself. She met new people all the time. She enjoyed new people. The problem was, she thought as Gray ushered her into the Four Seasons, this time it was Gray’s people.
She tried not to stare as he led her up the steps.
“Ah, Mr. Thane.” The ma?tre d’ greeted him warmly. “It’s been too long. Ms. Winston is already here.”
They crossed the room with its long gleaming bar, the linen-decked tables already filled with the lunch crowd. A woman rose as she spotted Gray.
