A Glimpse of Fire Read online

  “You’re right. But I don’t think that’s enough. One complaint would only get a wrist slapping.”

  “Both you and Nancy need to—”

  “You’re preaching to the choir.”

  “Yeah, I know. It just pisses me off that you have to put up with so much crap when you do a better job than half those losers.” They’d sat under a tree and he opened his lunch pail. “Shit, peanut butter and jelly again.”

  Dallas shook her head as she removed her gloves, and then brought out her cheese and crackers and fruit. “Tony, you aren’t married. You made your own lunch.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He gave her that wide grin that had surely broken many hearts. “I haven’t grocery shopped in a while.”

  She took off her baseball cap, tightened her ponytail, replaced the cap and then got out the hand sanitizer. “Why haven’t you gotten married?”

  “I’ve been saving myself for you. Wanna cola? I have an extra one.”

  “Come on. I’m serious.”

  “And nosy.”

  “Yeah, so,” she said, laughing as she took the cola he offered.

  He shrugged a shoulder. “Hell, I’m only thirty-one. I’ve got time.”

  “Here.” She gave him a hunk of her Gouda.

  “What about you?” he asked, his dark eyes suddenly full of curiosity. “Every time we go for a drink after work, you turn every guy’s head in the bar. But you don’t even talk about dating anyone.”

  “I keep waiting for you to ask.”

  He stared, speechless.

  “I’m kidding.” She winked. “You’re my only friend here. I don’t want to ruin a good thing.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking.” He checked his watch and then bit into his sandwich.

  She watched him chew, studying the clean lines of his jaw, the straight, almost patrician nose. His dark wavy hair was pulled back in a short ponytail. He was a really good-looking guy. The way his muscled biceps strained against his T-shirt sleeves caught the attention of nearly every woman who walked by.

  But Dallas had never felt anything other than camaraderie with him. She had no idea why. Just no chemistry. No sparks like she had with Eric.

  Just thinking about him made her all tingly inside.

  How was she going to stand not seeing him until Wednesday night? That was almost forty-eight hours from now. Tomorrow night she had her meeting. Since she was the organizer, she damn well had better show up. Anyway, she had to get a dress for the reception on Wednesday night.

  Thoughtfully she took a sip of cola. Tonight she wasn’t doing anything. Her heart started to race as she summoned her courage. What the hell? She didn’t have anything to lose. She was the mystery woman.

  She checked her watch. Eight minutes left.

  “Hey, Tony, I’ve got to make a phone call,” she said as she started to gather her stuff. “You want the rest of this cheese and crackers?”

  “You talkin’ to me?” He grinned at his lousy imitation. “Leave everything. I’ll pick it up. Go.”

  She smiled her thanks. Her cell phone already out of her pocket.

  6

  ERIC GOT HIMSELF A SOFT drink out of the refrigerator in the coffee room. The pastrami sandwich he’d ordered from the corner deli would be here any minute. On the few occasions he’d ordered lunch in, they’d delivered promptly.

  Never in his life had he waited for a woman to call. Not even in high school when he’d had the hots for Tammy McIntosh, who’d had the best breasts east of the Mississippi and had given him his first and thankfully only hickey. Every guy in school had wanted to take her out, and he’d had the pleasure three or four times. When things had started to cool between them, he’d moved on. No waiting around by the phone for him.

  But today he waited. Even skipped going out to lunch with Tom just in case Dallas called. Tom hadn’t volunteered squat about Saturday night. Which was really ticking Eric off. His so-called friend’s innocent act had gotten real old. That’s why Eric hadn’t told him about dinner last night. Screw him.

  On his way down the hall back to his office, he heard the delivery kid at the reception desk. He’d already left money with the receptionist so he needed only to grab the bag on his way back to his office.

  “You had a call,” his secretary said as he approached his office.

  “What? Who?” Damn it. He’d been gone less than two minutes.

  Looking confused and curious, Lucy handed him the pink message slip. “A woman. She said you’d understand.”

  “I told you to page me if I had any calls.”

  Lucy shrugged. “She wouldn’t wait.”

  He frowned at the message. And then he smiled. It read: Tonight. By the magician. Six-thirty. Dallas.

  “What’s this?”

  At the sound of Tom’s voice behind him, Eric pocketed the message. “None of your business.”

  Lucy’s eyes widened.

  Tom laughed. “Testy today, aren’t we?”

  Eric sighed and went into his office.

  Tom followed. “Is that your secret meeting place? By the magician?”

  Eric sat at his desk and glared at him. “You read my message?”

  “Yeah, but just over your shoulder. I’m assuming this is the same woman from Saturday night.”

  Ignoring him, Eric set aside the ad campaign he’d been working on for his newest client. Ironically an up-scale take-out sushi place. He opened the white paper sack and brought out his sandwich. Normally he’d give Tom the dill pickle. Screw him.

  “Come on.” Tom sat in the burgundy leather chair opposite Eric’s desk. “What’s going on?”

  “You tell me.”

  “What are you talking about?” The corner of Tom’s mouth twitched. He could barely contain a grin.

  “I’m not stupid. I know you set up Saturday night.”

  Tom frowned, pretending confusion. “Saturday night? I don’t get it.”

  Eric unwrapped his sandwich. Forget it. He didn’t need Tom to admit his involvement. In fact, he probably should be thanking the pain in the ass. “Don’t you have work to do?”

  “Come on. Tell your buddy Tom what’s going on.”

  Lucy briefly ducked her head in. “Tom, Mr. Webber is looking for you.”

  “Thanks.” He got to his feet and, with an annoying grin, said, “Later,” before he disappeared.

  Eric leaned back in his chair and stared at his diploma and awards on the opposite wall. His office wasn’t much to write home about. Fairly small, sparse, just like all the other offices except for Webber’s and Thornton’s corner suites. The money and attention had gone into the conference room, where the ad execs met with clients.

  He forgot about his sandwich. Forgot about the new ad campaign. Forgot about Tom and his stupid antics. All he could think about was seeing Dallas tonight.

  By the magician.

  Interesting choice. She could have named a restaurant. Or any number of places. Why Central Park, near the magician? Of course, having had to leave a message probably had something to do with not getting specific. Or maybe…

  His heart started to pound. Blood rushed straight to his groin. He’d told her he didn’t live far from there. Maybe she wanted to go to his place.

  The thought took hold and wouldn’t dissolve. He barely remembered eating his sandwich. But suddenly it was gone and he was crumpling up the wrapper.

  The rest of the afternoon was a total loss. Flashes from last night haunted him. Consumed his concentration. He swore he could smell her honeyed scent, could feel the weight of her breasts in his palms. His body responded fiercely to the memory of her slipping her hand between his thighs. After that, he couldn’t even get comfortable.

  An hour earlier than usual he packed it up. He hadn’t gotten a damn bit of work done for three hours. All he could think about was Dallas.

  SHE LEFT THE PLAZA HOTEL, where she’d stopped for a drink with Trudie, five minutes before the appointed hour. Trudie thought Dallas was insane for c
arrying on this charade. But, of course, Trudie’s idea of adventure was trying out a new grocery store.

  This was perfectly harmless, Dallas assured herself. She knew she wasn’t the type of woman he wanted. He wasn’t her type either. Not that she had a type. She’d had a couple long-term relationships, including going steady with Steve O’Neil for three chaste years in high school. Every one of the guys had been different. With the exception of Steve, she’d been the one to break off the relationship. The truth was, she didn’t know what she wanted.

  But she hadn’t lied to Eric about herself. She simply hadn’t told him anything. He knew all he needed to. Simple sex required no history, no promises.

  Eric was already there. He was listening to a couple playing the sax and singing on the corner. Her pulse already starting to race, she slowed to watch him a moment, enjoying the way his jeans hugged his long, lean legs. He had on a black T-shirt this time, but she’d bet anything it had some kind of designer logo on it. That was okay. She was glad he’d dressed more casually than last night. In fact, what she had in mind didn’t require clothes at all.

  The song ended, and Eric threw some bills in the basket at the couple’s feet, then stepped away from the crowd and turned in her direction. He spotted her and smiled.

  The way her heart seemed to flip-flop was totally ridiculous. Amazingly foolish. But only because he had such a good body. Not muscular but kind of lean and wiry, like a long-distance runner.

  “Hi.” He took her hand and bent to kiss her briefly on the lips.

  The familiarity surprised her, and she stiffened.

  He released her hand. “Guess I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “No. I mean, it’s fine. Really.” She shrugged a shoulder, feeling awkward suddenly. “You just took me by surprise.”

  “So did you. Thanks for calling.”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d show up.”

  He reared his head back. “You gotta be kidding.”

  She smiled, her confidence returning. “You could have had a meeting or something.”

  “I would have canceled it.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Uh-huh.” He smiled, his gaze slowly taking in the clingy peach-colored V-neck top she’d borrowed from Wendy. Probably a tad too small for Dallas, but she loved the color. “You look great. I mean, really terrific.”

  “Thanks,” she murmured, a little embarrassed by his obvious appreciation but also glad she’d splurged on a trendy new pair of white capris after work. Might as well show off her tan while it lasted.

  He took her arm and they started walking. “You have anything in mind?”

  She nearly missed a step and had to take a deep breath before she answered. “A drink maybe.”

  “How about some dinner?”

  “Okay.” She wasn’t the least bit hungry. But she supposed dinner could be a start. “Have any place in mind?”

  “Hmm…” He thought for a moment. “You like Chinese?”

  “Love it. But this time it’s my treat. Nonnegotiable.”

  He smiled. “There’s a hole-in-the-wall five blocks from here. Great food. They even cook everything.”

  She laughed. “You were a good sport last night.”

  “I still think that California roll had something raw in it.”

  “See? You’re still alive.”

  He stopped and stared at her. “You swore there was nothing raw in—”

  She burst out laughing. “Teasing. Only teasing.” She held up her hands. “I swear.”

  With phony gruffness he grabbed one of her hands and pulled her toward him. An older lady wearing a huge straw hat and walking a Chihuahua had to sidestep them and she muttered a surprising oath about them blocking the sidewalk.

  Eric apologized, though unable to lose the smile, then steered them off to the side. “I thought she was going to sic Bruno on us.”

  “Don’t underestimate those little suckers. One of my college roommates had a Chihuahua. He had me cornered a couple of times.”

  They’d started down Fifty-ninth again, and he looked over at her. “Where did you go to school?”

  She hesitated. “Cornell.”

  “Whoa. Nice. Scholarship?”

  “Partial.”

  He nodded. “What was your major?”

  Dallas stalled a moment. She really didn’t want to get into this personal a conversation, but nor did she want to ruin the evening. “Let’s just say that much to my parents’ delight, I’m not working in the same field in which I studied.”

  “Which would be?”

  She smiled. “Are we there yet?”

  He gave her a speculative look and then decided to drop it. “Almost. Hungry?”

  She nodded, which was a lie but she’d effectively changed the subject. “Hope they aren’t too crowded.”

  He took a long time looking at his watch. “They probably will be.” He looked at her as they stopped for a red light. “I usually take out.”

  She held his gaze. “Fine.”

  “My place okay?” he asked slowly.

  “Sure.”

  His eyes seemed to bore into hers. “It’s only a block from Chun’s.”

  “Let’s go.” The light turned green and they hurried across the street with the few other pedestrians who hadn’t ignored the stop signal.

  Eric didn’t say much for the next block, which made Dallas nervous. Although she hadn’t volunteered much conversation either. Her thoughts kept straying to later. When they got to his place. Of course, nothing had to happen. They could just have dinner. Talk. Kiss a little.

  Yeah, right.

  She was getting damp just thinking about being alone with him. About the way he’d kissed her last night and how she’d felt the warm, gooey sensation down to her toes. About how he’d gently cradled her breasts.

  Her breathing came so quickly that he even glanced over at her. “Are you okay?”

  Heat climbed her neck. “Yeah, I’m fine. Really.” Fortunately she spotted a sign for Chun’s on the corner. “We’re almost there.”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” he said with a final concerned look before taking her arm and ushering her to the door.

  He hadn’t been kidding. The place truly was a hole-in-the-wall. Really tiny, with only four tables, all taken, and a counter crowded with paper bags, presumably containing take-out orders. Several people waited in line as a young Asian woman efficiently yanked slips from the bags, called names and rang up bills at the cash register.

  The aroma of onions and garlic and exotic spices permeated the air. This place was obviously the real deal and not a watered-down version to appease Western tastes.

  Behind the counter an older man and woman worked side by side, stirring pots and tending a large grill against the far wall, speaking loudly to each other in Chinese. One of the customers got up from the table and went to the corner, where there were pitchers of water and iced tea and a bucket of ice. Sitting on a hot plate was a glass carafe of hot tea. He poured himself some and then returned to the table and his two companions.

  Dallas smiled. She liked the place already. Kind of homey and friendly.

  “I know it smells pretty bad, but I promise the food is terrific,” Eric said as he took her hand and pushed his way inside.

  “Are you kidding? I think it smells great.”

  The cashier looked up and smiled broadly.

  “Eric.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Mom, Dad, look who’s here.”

  The short, graying man at the grill turned around. He spotted Eric and put down the long wooden chopsticks he was using, his big grin displaying a gold-capped tooth. “My friend, where have you been? I haven’t seen you for three weeks, I think.”

  “Been busy working.”

  The man wiped his hands on his apron and gave Dallas a curious glance. “I see.”

  Unlike his daughter, who had no trace of an accent, the man’s English was heavily coated with his native dialect. The sly look he gave Eric, however,
was universal.

  “This is my friend, Dallas. And this is Jimmy Chun, owner and chef of this wonderful establishment.”

  Jimmy chuckled. “He likes to use funny words,” he said and gave his palm another swipe across his stained apron before extending his hand to Dallas.

  “Uh, Jimmy, I think you can skip the formality,” Eric said, one eyebrow lifted at his friend’s slightly soiled hand.

  “Pleased to meet you.” Dallas readily accepted the man’s hand. If Eric only knew what her hands went through on a daily basis. Even wearing gloves all the time at work didn’t totally protect them.

  Jimmy grinned, a flicker of approval in his eyes. “You are most welcome here.”

  Eric waved to the woman still cooking. “Jimmy’s wife, Ruth.”

  She smiled and then said something to her husband in Chinese, her tone slightly brusque. Dallas could sure guess what was said, with all the people lined up for their orders. Two more guys came in after they did, and the phone had rung twice. The place was really hopping. The food had to be good.

  “Maybe we should come back,” she whispered to Eric.

  Jimmy heard. “No, no, you come with me.”

  He pushed aside the low swinging gate that separated the galleylike kitchen from the eating area and motioned for them to follow. Jimmy led them into a small kitchen where a young man wearing headphones and singing was dumping a huge pot of cooked rice into a wok heating on a stove.

  Jimmy touched him on the shoulder and the man stopped singing, turned toward them, a sheepish smile twisting his lips.

  The kitchen was crowded with a stainless-steel commercial refrigerator, a double sink and a small stove. Too small for a business, but that’s all that would fit. There was barely enough room for all four of them to be in there. Nevertheless she was impressed with how spotless the kitchen was kept.

  “You tell me what you want. Anything.” Jimmy jabbed a thumb into his chest. “You tell Jimmy and I cook for you. You like some orange chicken? Garlic shrimp?”

  Eric put a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder. “I’ll give you an order, but no rush. I’ll pick it up later. You need to go help Ruth. You have a lot of customers out there.”