A Glimpse of Fire. Debbi Rawlins
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“How about a walk?” he asked before she could flag a cab and disappear.
“Sure. It’s nice out. Not as sticky as last week.”
“I say we head for Central Park.”
Her eyebrows rose. “It’ll start getting dark by the time we get there.”
“Afraid of the big bad wolf?”
“Should I be?”
He smiled. “I think Tom probably assured you that I’m an okay guy.”
“Tom?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets as they turned down Sixth Avenue. He badly wanted to touch her, but he’d wait for a signal. Let her call the shots. That’s what she wanted. That’s why she insisted on the secrecy.
“Was Tom at the party?” She seemed genuinely confused, which gave him pause.
“I figured it out, Dallas. We both saw you in the display window. Tom had to have put you up to this.”
“What are you talking about?” She slid him a sidelong glance, her eyebrows drawn together in a skeptical frown.
“There’s no other explanation.”
She shook her head with a wry smile. “Maybe we ought to skip the walk. You need some serious rest.”
“Yeah, I hardly slept last night.” He kept watching her, noticed her near misstep, the way her cheeks colored a little. “What about you?”
“Fine. I slept just fine.”
“Good. Then you shouldn’t be in any hurry to get home.”
She laughed. “Very sly.”
“Look out.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her close when she nearly collided with a shabbily dressed man staggering wildly, obviously drunk.
“Thanks.” She leaned against Eric as she glanced over her shoulder at the man, who’d already passed by—but not so his rank odor. “Sad, isn’t it?”
The compassion in her eyes touched him, as misplaced as it was. He took another look at the guy, evidently homeless and drunk. “He needs a good meal instead of spending his money on booze.”
“You don’t know his circumstances.” She pulled away. “He may have just lost his job or received some horrible news.”
“You’re right.” He drew her back against him and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “I shouldn’t have said that. But there were a lot of steel mills where I grew up. I saw what happened to men who lost their jobs.”
Looking away, she murmured, “Yeah, I’ve seen it, too.”
That surprised him. What did she understand about that world? About the blue-collar laborer who was so readily sacrificed to improve the bottom line of a corporation’s financial statement? He understood. Too well. His brothers were fools for languishing in the mills, and settling for the same scraps their father had.
He caught a glimpse of Central Park a couple of blocks away, along with the lineup of carriages and horses with their colorful hats. “I have an idea. How about a carriage ride?”
“Are you serious?” She laughed softly. “Only tourists do that.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t we just eat in a touristy restaurant?”
“Touché.”
“Come on. Let’s pick out a horse.”
She made a face. “We don’t have much time before it gets dark.”
He smiled, his body thrumming with anticipation. “Sometimes interesting things happen in the dark.”
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