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I laugh. “Yes. You did.”
He brings my knuckles to his lips and kisses them. “I hope to see you soon.” He releases me and leaves while the warmth he’s created in me lingers.
I blink back to the present and to the man whose hands inspired the memory, but he’s gone like Noah is gone. I’m alone now. My food arrives on that thought, and I take my time eating, that first time meeting and touching Noah in my mind, the passionate love affair to follow, something I’d never known before, and I doubt I will know again.
Once I’m done eating, I pay my bill, and when I look toward the table with the man who feels familiar, he’s still gone. I have this odd mix of disappointment and unease that stays with me when I exit the restaurant, and, once again, I feel that tingling sensation. I start walking, and this time, that sensation is so strong that I all but run. I can’t get home fast enough.
Chapter two
Ashley (still Sandy for now)
I’m a block from my building when a homeless man jumps from a dark alley, and I yelp.
“You got money, lady? I need money!”
“No money,” I say, having already been warned by neighbors that once I’m targeted for money, I’m in trouble. I hurry past him, and he actually follows me.
“Just some change,” he calls out. “Some loose change.”
I don’t look at him, but his voice is low, almost familiar, and I decide I’m really losing my mind. I approach the corner, and the light turns, telling me to stop, but I don’t care, and I don’t stop. I lived in New York City; you take an opening when you get one. The only car coming is far enough away that I dart across the walkway, and I’m at the other side by the time the car is passing. I turn and look for the homeless man, but he’s nowhere to be seen. It’s like he didn’t even exist. I’m officially in a really weird place tonight. This on the run, hiding stuff is getting to me. I need to get to my apartment.
I scan for the homeless man again, and when he’s still nowhere to be found, I turn and start walking. I have my apartment in sight, and I have no idea why I choose now to do so when I need to be aware of my surroundings, but I sink back into the past. I’m reliving the night I met Noah. I’m back in the bar where I met him. Or rather, outside the door:
I stand in front of the bar, and nerves assail me. What am I doing? I don’t know this man. I feel awkward. I feel like I shouldn’t be here. I don’t date. Maybe this is why. I don’t take chances. I don’t feel comfortable with strangers, and I can’t date the many men in my professional world. I can’t risk them affecting my career or my boss’ reputation. A good looking, charming man has invited me to drinks. I need to just do this.
I suck in a breath and open the door, entering the dimly-lit bar with clusters of brown leather chairs surrounding marble tables and an L- shaped bar to the right. There is no hostess, and I scan for Noah, but I don’t see him. Feeling extra nervous, when I’m really not usually nervous at all, I start walking to the right, where there seems to be another seating area, and as I turn in that direction, I look left to the other side of the bar and freeze. Noah is standing there, chatting it up with a gorgeous redhead. Heat rushes over me, and in that moment, his gaze lifts and lands on me.
I don’t wait to see his reaction to me showing up. I rush toward a bathroom sign, hoping for a rear exit. The hallway is long, and the path doesn’t include a way out. I enter the ladies’ bathroom and thank God, it’s a single stall. I lock up and press my hands to the sink, staring at my image in the mirror. I’m redheaded, but not redheaded like that woman out there with Noah. I’m just a girl on her own in this world, with barely-there C cup breasts and a chin that is a little too pointed. I shove off the sink. Why am I talking down to myself? I swore that was over when—when things happened to me that I’m not going to think about. I’m walking out of here with my pointed chin in the air or lifted. In the air would be ridiculous.
I face the door and open the darn thing to suck in a breath when Noah is standing there. And damn him, he’s even better looking than I remember, all perfectly male and well, perfect all around.
“You came,” he says. “And then you ran? Why?”
“This was a mistake. I need to go.” I try to pass him, but he steps into me, backing me into the bathroom, and the next thing I know, the door is shut.
“What are you doing?”
“That woman is a client, the one I told you I was meeting.”
“Right,” I say. “A client.”
“A married client with two kids.”
“Married means nothing.”
“Happily married.”
“You don’t need to tell me this,” I say. “Can you please open the door?”
“Not until I do what I’ve wanted to do since I met you this morning.” His hand comes down on my arm, and suddenly, I’m pressed to all that perfect manhood of his, and his fingers are in my hair, his lips near mine. “I’m going to kiss you unless you tell me to stop.”
I blink back to the present, and I’m standing at a bench outside my apartment building. I didn’t say no to that kiss, and it was truly a kiss that changed my life or this warehouse-style apartment in Austin, Texas wouldn’t be my life. I wouldn’t be Sandy. I walk into my building and enter the stairway, heading up three flights of steps to the highest level where I live. I scan the walkway to the left where one other apartment is located, and the emptiness spooks me all over. I pull out my key and place it in my lock, but it doesn’t open. I try again. Nothing. My key won’t work.
I’m not sure what to think of this, but I quickly run down the stairs and head to the landlord’s apartment. I pound on his door and he answers, looking every bit his thirty years young, his dark hair sticking up, a cigarette in his mouth. He holds up a key. “Need this?”
I grab it. “Why does that exist?”
“You’re the one who asked to have your locks changed.”
