New York Nights: Shaken and Stirred

His hands locked on her hips, and she fought to free herself, to feel him against her lips, but he continued—slow, steady, heartless. She moaned, her hands fisted against the mattress, until…

Until…

Heaven.

Slowly his tongue moved inside her, playing her at his leisure. She cried out, and his mouth turned. He captured her inner lips, sucking and pulling, hard and insistent, until she was begging, pleading because this pressure was killing her.

Frantically Tessa clawed at his shoulders, finally daring to touch him because she wanted much more than teasing. She wanted him to fill this emptiness inside her.

The dark stranger laughed, not cruelly but so knowing, and then he slid into her. Tessa sighed because this was what she needed, what her body craved. He thrust slow and deep, reaching farther and farther, as if they had all night, as if they had forever.

Still her eyes were closed, and he didn’t seem to mind. Without her sight, her other senses took over, the sounds of the late-night city noise, the barges on the river, the far-off wail of a siren and the sound of breathing. Air pulling in and out. Life.

Her mouth ached to taste him, to taste the salt that she could smell on his skin. But that would be touching. That wouldn’t be wise in Tessa’s world. If she touched him again, she would know this man who was filling her, this man who was teaching her what pleasure could mean. And she couldn’t have that because she desperately needed someone she could trust.

So she listened…and floated…and felt. Mercy, she felt. There were a thousand nerve strings inside her, stretching, pulling, threatening to break, and with each thrust the strings pulled tighter.

Tessa wanted more. “Faster,” she said in a whisper. But he heard. She heard him rise over her, bringing her hips higher, and he began to move faster, pushing inside her, the strings pulling tighter and tighter.

Her body arched, taut, and she twisted with each powerful stroke because she could feel it coming closer. She could see it, the streaking lights that shone behind her lids. Harder and harder he went, this dark man she didn’t want to know, touching her, taking her deeper and deeper into his world.

Higher she went….

Higher…

Higher…

And there.

Tessa came on a sigh, felt his body jerk. And then he held her close, cradling her to him. Her eyes stayed shut. Keeping his image far from her mind.

“TESSA?” GABE STUDIED HER peaceful smile, trying to figure out what part of the movie he had missed.

“Ssshhhhhh,” she answered in a sleepy voice. “No names. Two strangers.”

What the hell? Okay, he’d either traumatized her or screwed her into a break with reality, neither of which seemed viable.

“Tess?”

“No names,” she muttered.

Nope, not that either, Gabe. “Miss?” he asked, trying to come up with some anonymous yet personal mode of address.

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

She smiled again. “I’m lovely. I feel lovely.”

That didn’t sound bad. “You’re not hurt?”

“I think I’m going to hurt in the morning,” she said, her eyes still closed, and he wished that she’d open them, look at him, so that he would know she was okay. “Can we do that again?” she asked, her voice dreamy.

“I don’t know,” stated Gabe, the first and only time in his life that he’d ever said no to a naked female. And Tessa was marvelously naked. Her skin was smooth, and lightly tanned, like pale scotch on a summer’s night. Her breasts were firm, exactly fitting…

No, no, no…

He didn’t need to be thinking about Tessa’s firm breasts with nipples the color of…

Gabe shook his head.

“Let’s do it again,” she repeated, sending a new rush of blood to his cock.

“I can’t,” he lied.

“You must,” she ordered, and he heard it again, that trace of Napoleon-like command in her voice. Where the hell had that come from?

“This is a bad idea, Te—miss,” he said, but his no-conscience hard-on was ready and waiting, not really caring about personal boundaries or morning-after complications. And Gabe, at his heart, was merely a man.

“You must,” she said.

Gabe, the weak-hearted coward that he was, obeyed.

THEY MADE LOVE another three times during the night because Tessa had four lost years to make up for. Four times in all, once for each year of her life that she’d given up. Her dark stranger never asked her questions again, words were rarely used at all—a fact that she was grateful for.

She wasn’t going to dwell on who was next to her, wasn’t going to delve into that never-never land where man dreams were supposed to come true but they instead ended up tattooed in permanent red ink. Instead she was going to focus on this pleasure, this sex, this dark stranger who could make her body ache. As long as she didn’t think about who he was, her heart—and her own Tessa dreams—were safe.

Finally, when the morning sun was creeping through the window, she fell asleep, curled up next to him, feeling the dusting of chest hair tickling her back, feeling his flaccid sex settling comfortably between her thighs, feeling his lips soft against her neck.

Tessa smiled and fell into a sated, dreamless sleep.

THE PHONE RANG, hellishly loud, and Gabe reached out a hand, searching for it.

“Did you see her naked yet?”

Instantly Gabe was wide-awake. The word naked did that to a guilty man.

“What?” he asked, focusing on Sean’s voice, keeping his attentions far away from the trim, tight body that was currently curled into his Johnson as if she owned it. Which she did.

Gabe sprang out of bed.

“Did you see her naked yet?” Sean repeated. “Daniel put money on one night, but I knew you were too honorable to do anything more than sneak a long look when she came out of the shower. So? Listen, bro, I could use the inside track on this one. The Mets’ losing streak is killing my discretionary income, and I was counting on something to bail me out. Any fever looks last night?”

“What’s a fever look?” asked Gabe, already knowing the answer.

“I know you don’t get ’em like I do, but it’s the sloe-eyed thing that women do when they want to test out your equipment. So…Tessa giving you the sloe-eyes?”

Gabe turned his back to the bed, not wanting to know if Tessa was giving him the sloe-eyes, at least not while he was on the phone with his brother. “Nothing. I went to a party last night. Fell asleep. Get your mind out of the gutter.” He heard a soft moan, and his mind, still in the gutter, turned to see the naked female in his bed.

The tight, trim body stirred under the covers, a tousled head of honey-brown hair starting to emerge. Gabe pushed her head back down before she forgot she was wearing no clothes.

“Sucks,” answered Sean, master of the crude yet precisely effective come-back. “Better luck next—”

“What do you want?” interrupted Gabe, searching for his shorts and finding them hung over the lamp. While pulling them on, he kept one eye glued to the dark head, waiting for signs of life—or anger, whichever came first.

“I wanted to talk to you about the building permit for the renovations….”

One green eye opened, widened in horror, nothing even close to sloe-eyed fever.

“’Bye, Sean. We’ll talk later,” Gabe finished, quickly slamming down the phone.

Tessa bolted upright, clutching the blanket like a lifeline.

“Tessa?” he asked carefully, fully prepared for a five-alarm tongue-lashing on the proper respect for personal boundaries.

Gradually the alarm in her eyes dimmed.

“I’m fine,” she answered, dodging his gaze.

Gabe heaved a glorious sigh of relief and began pulling on his jeans. He had screwed up royally last night, he knew it, but this moment of forgiveness—nay, acceptance—really did his heart good. “I can bunk with Daniel if you want—if it’ll make you feel better.”

It was a generous, unselfish offer, designed to give her some level of comfort and security. An assurance that as tempting as her bones were, Gabe had the necessary self-control to modify his behavior and not jump them—again.

She licked her lips, a nervous gesture, which really shouldn’t have turned him on, but did anyway.

“I’m not kicking you out of your own apartment,” she answered, immediately sensing the nobleness of his offer. “There’s lots of room here.”

Gabe stroked his chin, then realized he needed to shave. But first it was time for The Talk. Reestablish the ground rules she so desperately needed. Who would have guessed that little Tessa could be such a demon princess in bed? Gabe shook off the momentary lapse. “Tessa, we’re friends—”

Quickly she interrupted, obviously sensing where the conversation was headed. “Don’t worry about that. Can you turn around?” she asked primly.

Gabe nodded, obediently turning the other way. Not that she realized that the window reflection provided a crystal-clear vision of tawny flesh.

Gabe wisely opted not to tell her.

AFTER GABE LEFT TO set up the bar, Tessa showered, dressed, and then sat cross-legged on the floor contemplating the ramifications of last nights encounter with the dark stranger, which she categorized under “Erotic Fantasy” rather than “Sex With a Man that She Really Needed to Trust Because So Few Men Understood Her Desire for Independence After Denny Had Upended Her Life, and Gabe Was One of the Only Ones Who Treated Her Well.”

Before she let herself go gaga over the dark stranger, her first priority was moving out—muy pronto. One thing about sunlight: it shined a glaring laser beam on all the weaknesses that she was currently experiencing in her life. The D on her accounting test. Denny-gate—the scandalous turnabout on all his previously sacred vows of never wanting family and a life with a ball and chain. The apartment in Hudson Towers, just waiting for the occupancy of a mature, independent woman who could survive New York on her own. Most thrilling, the purple hickey on her stomach, which looked so much more decadent than the letters D-E-N-N-Y on her butt. And lastly but not leastly, the well-used ache between her legs.

Who knew the dark stranger was so…knowing in the mysteries of female sexuality? Tessa grinned. It was an experience well worth repeating. However, now wasn’t the time to drift from her life purpose. She pulled out her laptop and scoured the online listings for roommates wanted. When she found anything remotely suitable, she dashed off a response, before finally posting an ad of her own.

Eventually the calling of the listings took over, and Tessa did what she always did when she needed to escape: she browsed through the apartment rentals section, seeing what was what, all the while lamenting the high rents. So, a girl could dream. However, dreams were meaningless without the financial capital to achieve them, so she pulled out her accounting book and tried to study. For three hours she sat there, studying, but none of the concepts seemed to hold her attention.

The principles of accrued depreciation were losing out to the principles of last night. She could still feel his hands on her skin, hear the rush of his breath and smell the musky desire in the air. And the way he touched her down below…wow. Pretty soon her body was flushed all over again.

The book sat in front of her, the page on depreciation unturned, and the beginnings of a plan formed in her mind. Maybe there was a way to have it all. If she moved out, put the necessary distance between them, then maybe she could have her independence and her mystery lover, too. A nighttime diversion in the shadows to experience more of that expanding-of-her-life stuff, with none of the glaring laser beams of daylight to worry about. It just might work. Her decision made, she went back to studying because, yes, she had a real career to prepare for.

When her watch said five, she knew it was time to go earn a living, so she tugged on her T-shirt and jeans and took the subway in to work.

Tuesday nights were traditionally slow, a mix of old-time regulars and the spring-fever crowds who showed up early and clocked out early, as well.

Gabe was behind the bar, pulling a beer for Charlie, who had worked as a union boss since before the Eisenhower administration. Next to Charlie was Lloyd, who had worked as an ironworker for nearly sixty years before retiring five years ago. Next to Lloyd was EC, a tall stick of a man who had worked as an engineer for MTA for sixty years in order to keep his two ex-wives in blue fox furs. And finally there was Syd, a retired police detective who, at fifty-one, was the young one in the bunch. They all had been coming to Prime for longer than Tessa had worked there, longer than even Gabe.

Gabe.

He shouldn’t look any different from yesterday, because men don’t suddenly morph overnight, but everything about him was sharper, bigger, harder, possibly because she remembered in minute detail exactly what he felt like when he was on top of her.

Determined to act as if she wasn’t puddling giddiness on the inside, Tessa smoothed out her perpetually wrinkled T-shirt. Then casually she smiled and waved at them all, and Charlie patted the empty bar stool next to him.

“Tessa, come around and keep an old man company for a while. You know this ticker is going to give out any minute, and I want to die happy with a beautiful woman at my side.”

Tessa was used to Charlie’s banter and settled next to him. “Your eyesight is going bad, Charlie. Nobody’s called me beautiful since—actually, never.”

“We take a vote,” he announced. “Democracy in action. All who think Tessa is beautiful raise your hand.”

“Will it get me a whiskey on the house?” asked Lloyd, but he raised his hand anyway. Three other hands rose, and EC glared at Gabe, who eventually raised his hand, too, carefully not looking in Tessa’s direction and—jeez, was he blushing?

Lloyd laughed, a loud burst of noise that was half joy and half bronchitis. “See there. Never argue with a man who wants to pay you a compliment.”

“Well, thank you then. I think you’re only warming up for tonight. Who’s the lucky lady, gents?”

Charlie coughed, pushing at creaky silver spectacles. “There is one.”

Tessa looked at him because it was easier to flirt with the regulars than to do casual conversation with Gabe. She could feel his eyes on her, careful, watching, and she didn’t dare look at him. Charlie was the perfect diversion. She balanced her chin on her palm. “Tell me all about it.”

He took a long drink of beer, gathering his courage before speaking. “There was a woman in here Tuesday last. Sure enough, she looked familiar to me, but when you’re pushing eighty, a man has a lot of women in his past. She was my age and walked like the queen, but I felt this stirring, an old song playing in my head. She came in with what must have been her granddaughter. Young blonde with wide blue eyes. Either one of you remember their names? Driving me crazy trying to recall. Damned Alzheimer’s.

“Carrie tells me I’m starting to lose my memory, but I keep denying it. I mean, how many seniors do you know that can remember the last home game of the Brooklyn Dodgers or MacArthur’s ticker-tape parade in ’51? That was when New York meant something. That was history. Like the days when Paddy O’Sullivan refused to sell a whiskey to Spiro T. because Paddy didn’t like his politics.” Charlie sighed, lifting his beer to his mouth. “Those were the days.”

Gabe smiled, shook his head. “Sorry, Charlie. Wish I could help you out.”

“Well, buy me another beer to help me forget your transgression. Maybe they’ll come in tonight. I wore my best tie.” He looked down at the open-collar shirt. “Oops. Guess I forgot that, too.”

Tessa laughed. “You look mighty handsome, Charlie. Was the girl in a yellow sundress?”

Charlie snapped his fingers. “There you go! Remember her name?”

Tessa gave him an easy grin. “No, but I really liked the dress.” She looked up at the clock, casually dodging Gabe’s eye. “Gotta start busting my butt, Charlie. Boss is a real nutjob about punching the clock.”

Then Tessa shot said boss a sweet smile and went about her job as if nothing had ever happened at all.

5

GABE CHATTED WITH THE codgers who had been regulars when Uncle Patrick was alive and would probably be regulars until they died. Considering how much Gabe had learned about old NewYork, he hoped that wasn’t anytime soon, because he had yet to hear the long-promised story about the night EC saw the Blue Shirts lose to the Canadiens in Madison Square Garden in, as EC so poignantly described it, “the heartbreaker of the century.”

However, tonight he kept a careful eye on Tessa, making sure that the status quo had been restored. Everything seemed right, but as the night wore on, he found himself less concerned with the status quo and more concerned with the eye-candy job of watching her.

At first it was big, general things that he’d overlooked about her before. Her long fingers twisting the cap off a beer in one graceful slide. The way her body moved so easily in soft, faded jeans. The sound of her laugh when Lloyd tossed out a bad joke. Over time, his focus narrowed and the smaller details began to emerge. The way she curled her lower lip in when she was shaking a martini, the way she brushed the hair from her face, the way her green eyes worked the customers, always friendly, capable, always the best friend behind the bar.

One thing about Tessa—she was an original. And people knew it when they talked to her. She never said much about herself, only listening. Always listening.

At half past seven a college baseball team pounded in fresh from a hard-won victory—judging by the dirt-stained jerseys. Tessa didn’t blink an eye. Instead she filled twenty-seven orders, including nine Long Island Iced Teas. As she worked, she twirled the glasses in the air, flirted with them all, easy and friendly, but they sucked it up like flies to honey. Gabe shook his head in amazement, still watching, though, if only to make sure everybody stayed in line.

Underneath the shell there was something fragile. Last night Gabe had broken something inside her and he wasn’t sure what. That sort of responsibility didn’t sit well with an Irish Catholic who prided himself on doing the right thing.

The time flew until it was nearly nine and Daniel came in to prepare the night deposit. Daniel was the antithesis of Sean, quiet, reserved and always alone. Although only four years older than Gabe, Daniel had lived through nightmares that Gabe could never imagine.

Daniel had been married for only five months when his new wife had been killed in the North Tower. She and Daniel both worked for an accounting firm there, and Daniel had been getting coffee for her from the Starbucks that was a few blocks north. He had been running late. Michelle had been at work precisely on time.

The aftershocks of 9/11 had been hard on the family—their mother had been alive then—but Daniel never fell apart. His whole life he had never said much, but he did change. Now he watched the world with grave eyes, never missing the details. While Gabe could joke with Sean, Gabe was always nervous about Daniel, never knowing exactly what to say or not to say. It was a bad feeling for a bartender. It was hell for a brother.

“No winner on the pool?” he asked Gabe, his gaze resting on Tessa. Gabe drew in a tense breath because he’d been hoping to avoid the subject of the bet. Actually, he was hoping that everyone would forget about it, but with such a large pot that seemed doubtful.

“What pool?” asked Lloyd.

“Never mind,” said Tessa quickly, a little too quickly—noticed Gabe, not daring to look in her direction.

Daniel looked at Gabe, looked at Tessa, eyes assessing, then he shrugged. “Did Sean call you this morning?”

In that moment Gabe knew he’d drawn a reprieve. “Yeah, but he hung up before he told me anything.”

“Somebody’s been asking questions about your license.”

“What license?”

“Liquor.”

Gabe swore. “I thought computers were supposed to make our lives better. Instead people don’t take responsibility for shit and the screwups get shuffled from one department to another.”

Daniel cut him off. “Don’t worry. Sean said he knew a girl in the planning department who had a sister who works in beverage control. He’ll get it squared away, but it might hold up the building permit for the place next door for a few weeks.”

“I really can’t afford to sit on empty real estate for a few weeks, you know? Why does everything take so freaking long?”

“What’s with you?”

“Patience is overrated, Daniel.”

Lloyd laughed, then coughed and then lifted his glass. “But a good man’s credit isn’t. Can you pour me another scotch and water, Gabe?”

IT WAS TWENTY MINUTES after closing and the bar was empty. The regulars had left with a chorus of goodbyes, and Daniel had carted off a night deposit that would help offset the cost of the renovations for the space next door. Assuming there was going to be a space next door.

Tessa poured the leftover ice into the sink and began scrubbing down the stainless-steel countertop. She worked quietly, leaving him alone, but he could hear her thinking. Normally the problem with the building permit was something he’d confide in her, but normal didn’t feel right anymore. Sex could do that to two people.

Finally, she laid down her rag. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” snapped Gabe. She stared, silently calling him a liar, and he sighed. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“You’re ready to get started next door, aren’t you?”

Yeah, he was more than ready. As soon as he’d seen the place go up for sale, he’d swooped in for the buy, killing his finances in the process, but it’d be worth it. When Gabe committed, he was in it for the long haul, and the restoration would be perfect. “I can start on some of it myself. Nobody will know.”

“You should get Daniel to help,” said Tessa.

“He’s got enough to think about without having to share in my responsibilities, as well.”

“He’s part owner.”

“‘The silent part’ is what he always says.”

“I can help,” she offered. “Dad was pretty handy around the house, and I’ve been known to perform electrical work for food.”

Here was Tessa, no place to live, struggling to find a real career, and she wanted to help. “Thanks, but don’t worry about it.”

Quietly Tessa went back to work, and Gabe closed off the taps. Another few minutes passed before she spoke again.

“You didn’t say anything to Daniel, did you? One day. He called it. He should have won the pool.”

Yes, Daniel should have won the pool. Yes, the world should know what a weakhearted bastard Gabe was, but Gabe wasn’t ready to admit that yet. “Do you really want me to say something, Tessa? Let the pool go. In a few days everybody will forget about it, they’ll be betting on horse races, and then I’ll get Sean to refund the money.”

“I don’t like being dishonest.” She pulled a hand through her hair, her breasts lifting with the movement. Gabe didn’t want to notice, but he did.

“It’s better if everybody knows?”

She met his eyes, and Gabe felt a stirring in his gut, a stirring of blood that would only mean trouble, especially for her. “Did you hate last night?” she asked.

Here it was, nearly one in the morning, and Tessa wanted to talk. Now.

Outside, the late-night streets were quiet and still. Inside, Gabe felt as though there were an impending nuclear explosion. Okay, fine, she wanted to talk? He would talk. “It’s biologically impossible for a man to hate or regret sex. Everything else is within the realm of possibility. But sex? No.”

“Oh,” she said and went back to wiping the counter, which even a moron could see was already spotless.

So the time for talking was now over. Gabe should feel happy. She could work. He could work, so he scanned over the inventory behind the three bars, counting stock for the next day, but the numbers started running together in his head.