Death of a Chorus Girl (The Delacroix Series Book 1) (13 page)

She shrugs but a coy smile plays with the corners of her mouth.  Her evasive answer may not surprise me, but it does disappoint me.  I frown and get caught up in my own mind, almost missing the singular glint in her eye as she takes another drink.  It is the first of its kind since the Gala, mischievous and tempting. “But I’ll confide this to you.”

“What?” crosses my lips in a ragged whisper.  It is obvious my heart is in my throat.

Her eyes drop to our hands as her head cocks to the side.  An eternity passes while I impatiently sit and wait for her answer.  My heart stops when she peeks out under those lashes of hers.  “That day in the office was definitely a vision I hope we can someday get to ourselves.”

I swallow the intense desire to carry her out of the restaurant and not put her down until we reach my bed.  “And if that’s something I’m desperate to do, what would you recommend?” 
I’ll do anything
.

We sit across from each other at a round table with four chairs.  She holds my hand and slides into the chair next to mine, bringing her lips to my ear.  “Patience and trust,” is all she says. Lightning races through me.

Each breath drifts across my skin as she draws away from me in slow motion.  We are nose to nose when she pauses, her eyes trapping mine.  God, how I desire to taste her again.  To erase today’s misery and end it with whimpers of longing and passion.  I take a calculated risk and nudge her nose with mine.  “Go out with me.”

Her soft laugh brings me such joy since not twelve hours ago I thought I would never hear it again.  “
Patience, Richard
.”  We are back to having my name roll off her tongue as an old, welcomed friend.  I can’t control the tremor that rocks my body.  She cocks her head back to the side and bites her bottom lip before continuing with almost the sweetest words I can hear at the moment.  “Not yet, but soon.  Take me home?”

Can I stay?
  I bite my tongue to keep the question from spilling off it.

The GPS guides me to Em’s apartment. I commit to memory the feel of her hand in mine as they rest on her thigh.  “Can I see you up?” I ask when we get to her building.

“Not this time,” she gently replies with her head cocked in the position I am beginning to love.

It is probably for the best as I wouldn’t have been able to be patient alone with her in her apartment.  I intend to get out and get her door but it swings open when the door attendant appears.  “Walter, do you mind giving us a minute?” she directs at him.

“Sure thing, Ms. Delacroix.  Sir.”

Our relative privacy returns once the door shuts.  “Em, I’m a great detective but lousy at reading women.  I want nothing more than to earn my place back in your heart.  I’m depending on you to tell me if I’m pressing you too fast or hard.”

Her arm stretches out towards me and her fingers trace the length of my jaw.  She leans in and my lips part in anticipation of hers.  They never come, instead brushing against my cheek.  “I want that as well, Richard.  Be as you were tonight and your wait won’t be long.
”
  Her words send my heart racing so erratically I think I might be in danger of having a heart attack.  Before I can say or do anything in answer, she’s gone.

Empathy Delacroix: A New Beginning

“Y
ou sure got home late last night.  You’re in a blissful mood this morning.  What’s that from,
Oklahoma
?  Everything go well with the detective then?”

Sabene sits at my table, peering over the newspaper at me with absolute wonderment etched along her features.  It is no surprise since I fluttered into the room as if on a cloud, humming under my breath.  Compared to the week prior, even with all the gruesome images, yesterday was heavenly.  Richard didn’t bat an eye concerning the truth about my visions.  He accepted that while I want a romantic relationship with him what we need is time to get to know each other.  He didn’t even take advantage when I slipped and sent mixed signals.

Caught up in the better memories from the day, I don’t immediately answer her.  “
Is he going to emerge from the depths of your bedroom, Em?”

The thought sends my body into a tailspin of desire.  “No, Sabene,” I contradict with a light laugh.  “The good detective slept in his own bed last night.”

“I’m willing to bet he didn’t sleep at all, then,” she counters while wearing a wicked grin.  “Now that you’re off suicide watch is it alright if I return to my own bed warmer?”  Her sly smile now sits under an arched eyebrow.  “No offense, but you’ve not been as fulfilling as Sven.”

“Sven?  What happened to Matthew?”

She waves me off and shoots me a look that says I am behind the times.  “What
did
happen with the sexy Rich Giordano, then?”

I sink into a chair next to her. “He is definitely that.”  A goofy, lovesick look steals onto my face.

“Then what’s the holdup?  Boy likes girl.  Girl likes boy.  Why isn’t he tucked away between your sheets sleeping off a rigorous night of sex?”  She fixes me in her penetrating sights before sipping her coffee.

My eyes roll as I try to keep the blush from engulfing my face, but it is no use.  “Because I don’t want just a bed warmer.”  She just looks down her nose at me.  In response, I attempt to change the subject.  “Thanks for picking up my dress.  I saw it on the hook in my room.”

“Teddy and I were getting ours.  What, you thought I would just leave yours there as well?”  I didn’t.  I am trying to be cordial.  But she is well aware of what I want to avoid and that’s why she is giving me grief about this.  “Is it okay if I just leave mine here?”

Like she has to ask.  “Of course it is.  Isn’t it what we always do?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if maybe
we
wouldn’t be taking a cab this time.  Thought a certain detective might be picking you up?” 
Oh, you are good
.  The comment is her way to try and turn the topic back so she can encourage me to sleep with Richard and get it over with.  I don’t take the bait, so she makes a last ditch attempt. “Have you considered taking him shopping?  Teddy doesn’t think he really has anything that’s not going to make him stick out like a sore thumb at the opening.  If I remember correctly she mentioned he should be off work today.”

Tricky, wicked Sabene!
  She knows damn well that by telling me he is off today I won’t be able to resist reaching out to him.

Richard Giordano: Armani’s Boutique and Central Park

760 Madison Ave.  This has to be a joke!  Armani?!
  “Richard?” 
Nope, not a joke
.  She steals my breath and words when I turn to greet her.  In her jeans, turtleneck, and scarf, she appears so unassuming and relaxed. 
Why are we standing in front of Armani’s Boutique?  What man shops in a boutique anyway?
  Her hand finds mine as she rises up on her toes to plant a kiss on my cheek.  “Thank you for driving into the city.”

Thank me? 
I was going crazy at home wondering if I should call her or not.  “That’s what friends do, right?  Meet friends to go shopping at Armani?”  Is it what friends do in her circle?  I just wish my voice hadn’t cracked at the end.  With sparkling eyes, a winning smile, and a squeeze of my hand, she ignores my questions and drags me into the store.  I can’t contain my embarrassment and lean into her ear before a salesperson can approach us.  “Um, I can’t afford this place.”

Some woman walks up before Em responds and gives her a warm smile, but me an indifferent once over.  We are quickly ushered through the store and left in a room with no clothes in it.  “Your requested beverages are already in stock, Ms. Delacroix.  David will be with you in a moment.”  Then the sales clerk leaves.

It is not long before the door opens and an older man walks in.  “Ms. Em!  It’s so wonderful to see you again.  I must say I didn’t think it would be so soon.”  He glances around the room as if I’m not there.  “Is Mr. Tom not with you today?”  Fury churns beneath my skin at the idea that she is well known for coming here with Worthy.

She places her hand intimately on my lower back, flashes a jovial smile, and corrects the sycophant.  “No, David.  I’d like to introduce you to a dear friend of mine.  This is Detective Richard Giordano.  Richard this is David, a master of his craft.”

After her glowing endorsement,
David
takes a closer look at me.  He offers his hand, surprising me with his firm grip.  “My apologies, detective.”  His eyes rove over my form, making me entirely uncomfortable.  She must have noticed because she pats my chest before resting her head on my arm.  “Is this someone I need to expect to have frequent us more often in the future?”  I can’t see her face, but I can see his.  At her, “probably,” his eyebrows shoot up and a smile splits his face.  “Well, then, shoo, shoo!  I can’t have you draped all over my canvas!”

We spend the next few hours with David fluttering around me running tape over my shoulders, arms, torso, back, and, embarrassingly, my legs.  Then rack after rack of clothes I wouldn’t be able to afford in a lifetime are brought in while I become a living dress-up doll.  About halfway through, Em senses my discomfort and embarrassment.

She steps onto the pedestal, placing her hand on my face and a chaste kiss on my lips.  It is so unexpected and quick I almost wonder if I imagined it.  David’s stunned face tells me it happened.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers against my lips.  “I know I overstepped today but I don’t want you feeling out of place when you come with me to the show events …”

“Events?” I break in, in a whisper.  “As in plural?”

She smiles shyly and shrugs.  “So… you’ll… let me do this then?”  I agree, even though it makes me uncomfortable to have her buy me a suit - it clearly illustrates the difference in the two worlds we live in.

The fitting ends and we move outside of Armani only to become nervously awkward.  It’s a strange dichotomy, our relationship.  Neither of us wants to part from the other, but we’re so tongue-tied over what to say that we end up just standing there.  She sways back and forth.  I stuff my hands in my pockets and pound my toes into the pavement.

This is childish.  If you want to spend more time with her, then just say so!
  That advice ends up being for naught because she beats me to it.  “Richard, do you have any other plans for this evening?”  She keeps her chin lowered, but lifts her eyes off the ground.  It is such an endearing sight that it leaves me without words.  Her eyes fall at my silence, leaving me feeling stupid.  Since I can’t seem to speak, I decide action is required.  I quickly remove the space between us, take her hand, and lead her to Central Park.

We start our tour, quietly enjoying the company of the other with occasional comments on the sights or people.  Eventually, we make our way through the mall to the
Alice in Wonderland
statue.  “Em, I owe you an explanation.”

“For what?” she asks as her head lifts from my shoulder so she can look at me.

“For the Gala; for my unwarranted jealousy; for my doubts.”  My eyes are glued on hers, gauging her response.  All she does is glance around, sit, and then pull me down next to her.  A nod of her head is the only encouragement she gives me to continue with my confession.

I take a deep breath and begin, my eyes drifting over the park.  “I was engaged about eight years ago to my high school sweetheart.  I proposed right before I went to the academy, and was gone for six months.  When I got back, I bought my house and we moved in.  The wedding date was set for six months later but our lives… she… I…”

I stop stumbling when Em grabs my hand.  I didn’t realize I was ripping grass out of the ground by the fistfuls.  “Things were off?” she offers me the words I can’t find.

“Yes,” I pause for another breath, “we quit spending time together; quit talking.  I ignored the signs to my own detriment.  The truth slapped me in the face on my wedding day.  Sara didn’t show, plus, I was missing a groomsman.”

“An affair?” she guesses in an appalled voice and I nod.  “Why?  With who?”

“The who doesn’t matter,” I snarl and clench my fists only to be reminded that her hand is still in one of them.  “Sorry,” I mumble sheepishly as I glance at her.  She waves me off and places her other hand on top of our clasped ones.  “I never saw Sara again,” I admit with my eyes glued on Em’s, examining her reactions, “though she’s haunted me every day since.  She left me a letter, which I found when I returned to an empty house.  The affair had been going on for years.”

Em cups my cheek with her free hand and gazes lovingly in my eyes.  “I’m so sorry, and thank you for telling me.  I get how trust would be hard for yo-”

“But it isn’t with you, Em!” I break in.  “You made me realize how trapped by her ghost I’ve been all these years.  Until you, no one was worth the trouble.  The mere thought of you brings a smile to my face, or it did until I trashed everything we had been working towards.  You’ve already forgiven me.  Now please, I’m begging you, let me show you how worthy of that forgiveness I truly am.  Let me earn back
your
trust.  Put me through the ringer.  Whatever it takes for however long it takes.  Just please give me a chance. 
Go out with me!
”

Empathy Delacroix: A Chase

I get trapped in Richard’s pleas.  The words couple with his desperation to tug at my heart strings. 
Don’t let one event blind you.  Slow this down or the two of you will just make the same mistakes again.
  I refuse to let that happen. 
He
is worth taking things slow for.  “Let’s walk some more,” I say as I stand and pull him up to his feet.  He doesn’t say a word as we start walking.  I lace my arm through his and lean into him, breathing deeply.  The comfortable hush brings me more peace and stimulation than any intellectual conversation I’ve had in years.  Somehow, he drowns out all the noise, erases all the shadows, and eases my spirit.

We walk around Belvedere Castle.  This time of year, it is crowded with tourists.  The weather is the perfect balanced temperature, and the trees are just turning for fall.  Therefore, everyone is out.  He drags his feet the closer we get to the reservoir and when we hit the trees, he digs in his heels.  I look up at him in confusion.  “Are you sure you want to keep going?” he hedges.

My brow furrows as I try to understand the meaning of his question. 
Does he no longer want to walk with me?  If that is the case, why doesn’t he just say so?
He glances around, so I do too.  Then it dawns on me.  We are in the same woods where just yesterday I died another woman’s death.  “It’s alright.  It won’t happen again, unless there’s another vision I walk across.”

“I don’t understand.”  A sigh bookends his last word.  He spins me around until I am facing him.  “But I’d like to.  I didn’t want to push you yesterday.  You were so fragile.  If you’re up for it, though, I still have questions. I want to better equip myself to give you what you need.  The internet wasn’t really helpful last night.  I couldn’t find any information on what you actually endured.”

That he did research left me momentarily speechless.  We have relative solitude in this portion of the park, so I sit down and look up at him expectantly.  I delve into more of the details after he sinks into the space next to me.  “The upside to what I go through is that it only happens once.  We can go back to all the crime scenes we visited yesterday and I will get nothing.  If it weren’t like that, I wouldn’t have been able to continue on my show.”

“Then I don’t understand Lower Manhattan.”  He isn’t being snarky.  He is sincerely puzzled.  Why wouldn’t he be?

“I can only assume from my own experiences.  I’m only given one glimpse of one perspective so impactful that it leaves an imprint on the world that’s left behind.  The Twin Towers was a horror show.  Thousands died there,
all
leaving an imprint.  If there were something else hidden in these woods, I would see it.  Normally, there’s no forewarning.  I literally just walk right into it.  But some sites I know to avoid, Lower Manhattan being one.  I don’t think I’ll ever visit Pearl Harbor.  I stay away from famous battle sites or ancient cemeteries where the dead were buried where they fell.  There’s not a guarantee that I’ll go through what happened, but the likelihood is greater.”

I fumble with the grass during my speech, running my fingers through it.  Richard’s distant voice sounds so compassionate and amazed.  “Why do you even leave your apartment?  How do you make it through the day?”