Show Me by Carole Hart Read Free Book Online Page B

letter of resignation was the image of herself in a class on canine respiratory illnesses, hearing the inevitable giggles and whispers from the people behind her. There would be rude come-ons, cattiness from other women. And although she hated the notoriety, surely life would seem boring without it? Would she really be happy to go back to being an ordinary person?
     
     
     
    All this was turning in the back of her mind as she accompanied Ralph Anderman into his Upper East Side pied-à-terre. When he’d asked her to lunch, she’d assumed it would be at a restaurant. But of course he couldn’t be seen with her without risking gossip about their relationship. The idea depressed her even as she was glad to be with him alone. His apartment windows overlooked the park, from almost exactly opposite her apartment building. She knew, with a sinking feeling, that she was going to be looking for his window at night. In spite of herself, she took notice of the floor—twenty-one—and figured out which corner of the building it was, ensuring later sleepless nights.
    The living room they were entering was a huge sweep of gleaming wood floor on two levels, and the side overlooking the park was glass from floor to ceiling. The view was breathtaking. The furniture was a motley collection of antiques, with the odd masculine wrong note thrown in here and there—a dartboard over the chesterfield armchair, a punching bag hanging beside an ornately carved bookshelf. The bookshelf itself held a jumble of reference books, classics, airport novels, and—she noticed with an odd tenderness—children’s books that he had obviously saved from his own early years. (Thanks to her researchers, she knew Ralph had no children. He had, in fact, never had a relationship that lasted longer than three months, which had made her feel a certain kinship to him. At four months, Evan was her personal long-distance record.)
    A rack of neatly halved sandwiches and a bottle of Pellegrino waited on a low chestnut coffee table in front of a huge leather sofa that showed the telltale signs of previous occupation by a dog. Ralph and Emily sat, a little self-consciously, and she found she was staring at the sandwiches without any desire to eat at all.
    “I’m sorry it’s a little uninspiring,” he said. “This is what I always have, and I didn’t really think . . .”
    “Oh, that doesn’t matter.” She looked up at him and was instantly entranced by his dark gaze. A faint, pleasant chill went through her, and she wondered if this was what people felt when she gave them the “magic touch.” Every cell of her body felt more alive when he looked at her. Even his handsome face, the presence of his strong masculine body so close to her, were like background noise to the compelling electricity of that look. She swallowed and said, “So . . .”
    “Why are you here?”
    She laughed. “I guess I’m always asking you why I’m here.”
    “But this time I wanted to give you a real answer. I know I behaved very strangely the other day.”
    “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m used to people behaving strangely. I mean, it wasn’t strange. In my world, everyone’s strange. I mean . . .”
    He smiled. “No need to tie yourself in knots. It was strange, and I think there are strange people in everyone’s world. But I’m not usually one of them. Now I’m in the difficult position of having to explain something I don’t understand myself. You know I told you I’d read your interviews?”
    “Yes, I remember.”
    “That was an understatement. I read one—I just happened upon it, and it struck me somehow. I can’t say what it was. Maybe it was your picture.” He shook his head. “I know people get all kinds of fantasies about celebrities, but I guess I thought I was immune. I meet famous people all the time now.”
    “So you got a . . . fantasy?” She tried to smile, but completely failed. His eyes were burning into hers. “But you still didn’t watch