Meet Me in Manhattan (True Vows) (24 page)

As if Ted's being a typical commitment-phobic guy meant he
could possibly be interested in seeing Erika again-interested in
her as something other than an old, mature friend.

He had told her, years ago, that he would never love her again.
He would never trust her not to hurt him the way she had before.
She accepted that. She respected it. The fact that he wasn't married had nothing to do with her.

Thus, she was a little surprised when he phoned a few days
later and suggested they get together for a drink and a bite. Not
exactly a formal invitation to dinner, but a step beyond their last
meeting, which had been just a drink. Not a bite.

"Fanelli's?" she suggested. "They have a food menu there,
tables in the back. . ."

"I was thinking someplace a little nicer, maybe? Is there someplace in your neighborhood? I don't know downtown that well."

"How about the White Horse Tavern?" she asked.

"Sure. Fine."

They settled on a date and a time and said good-bye. This time,
Erika promised herself, she would be ready. Seeing Ted as he was
now, so handsome and manly and confident, wouldn't be a
shock. Knowing that he was seeking only friendship with her, that
he was already taken, that they were just two old-maturefriends getting together, that nothing more than a fun night out
would come of it, that he would be returning to his girlfriend
afterward, or perhaps even bringing his girlfriend with him, and
that Erika would be returning to her own happily single life, the
life she'd chosen for herself, the life she wanted ...

She would be ready.

THIS TIME YOU'LL BE READY. You know she's beautiful. You
know the risks. You know she broke your heart before, and you'll
keep your heart well protected, as you always do, you'll keep that
most fragile part of your soul buried in an impermeable bunker so
she can't break it again.

You'll be careful. You'll ride the wave, but you won't hot-dog it.
You can do that. You know how to surf, and this time you'll have
your board with you.

You're a single man now.

Not because of Erika, you tell yourself You ended things with
Marissa for Marissa's sake, not because you wanted to see Erika
again but because after seeing her once, you'd acknowledged that
you've always been seeing her. She's never left you. You've never
been free to give yourself to anyone else. You know that now. You've
tried to ignore it, but it's there.

So you'll climb on your board and paddle out and hope a nice
roller rises up and carries you along for a ride. Erika had always
been the one who craved adventure, but now it's your turn. And
she's your adventure.

You'll enjoy the experience, have fun, learn something. Get a little
wet when the wave breaks over you.

But you won't drown. You'll be careful. You'll be ready.

Erika's cell phone rang while she was walking to the White
Horse Tavern. Without breaking stride, she plucked the phone
from her purse and flipped it open. "Hello?"

She'd expected the caller might be Ted, telling her he was running late-something she would deserve, given how long she'd
made him wait for her at Fanelli's while she'd dried her hair, put
on makeup and realized, halfway to the bar, that she'd left her
wallet at home. Or it might be Ted telling her he couldn't make it
at all. Something might have come up. His girlfriend might be ill.
Maybe she was vomiting unexpectedly. Maybe she was nauseous
and late and ... Oh, for God's sake, Erika!

"Hi," an unfamiliar male voice came through the phone. "This
is Bill. I'm a friend of Sarah's ..."

Erika nodded, then realized he couldn't see her. "Hi," she said.
Sarah was a colleague at work. A happily married colleague who
seemed determined that Erika become her neighbor in the joyous
nation of holy matrimony. To that end, Sarah directed every
single man she knew under the age of fifty in Erika's direction.

"Sarah said we ought to get together. She also said to tell you
I'm not a loser." He laughed.

Erika laughed, too. "Sarah doesn't know losers," she said,
silently admitting that every guy Sarah had ever set her up with
had been reasonably decent. A few sevens and eights, and no one
below a five.

"So, how about it? Should we meet somewhere for a drink?"

The White Horse Tavern was just up the block. She could see
Ted standing just outside the entry, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair neat and his gaze searching the street, watching for her.
"Tell you what," she said to Bill. "I can't talk right now, but why
don't you give me a call next week and we'll set something up?"

"I'll do that," he promised. "From what Sarah's told me about
you, I'm looking forward to meeting you."

"Great. I'll speak to you next week." She said good-bye, folded
her phone shut and crossed the street.

Ted spotted her and smiled.

"Hey, Fred!" a man shouted-not Ted. She glanced around,
figuring someone actually named Fred might be in the area, and
spotted one of her old high school friends jogging toward her
from the other end of the street.

Weird that Ryan should show up just at that moment, less than
a minute after she'd agreed to a blind date with Sarah's friend
Bill. It was as if the world had conspired to surround her with
guys.

Yes, that was it. The world wanted to remind her that Ted
wasn't the one and only man in her life, that he hadn't been her
one and only man for sixteen years, that he never would be her
one and only man. Ryan charged down the sidewalk, barreled
into her and wrapped her in a bear hug when she was just a few
feet from Ted. "Hey, what's up?" Ryan asked.

She peered over his shoulder and her eyes met Ted's. His smile
deepened, as if he and she were sharing a secret joke.

She wished she knew what the joke was. In that instant, in that
secret exchange of smiles, she wanted to know everything about
him, to share everything with him.

Ryan released her, turned and saw Ted. "Hey, Skala!" They did
the guy thing, bumping fists, slapping shoulders. "Small world,
huh? Half our high school is hanging in Manhattan these days.
You guys headed in there?" He gestured toward the White Horse Tavern.

"Yeah," Ted said. "We're going to have something to eat."

Don't invite Ryan to join us, Erika thought, then chastised herself. Of course Ryan could join them if he wanted. He was just
another old, mature friend.

He beamed at both of them. "Cool. You two have a drink in my
honor, okay?" He socked Ted in the shoulder once more, gave
Erika a parting squeeze and continued jogging down the street.
Erika wished she didn't feel so relieved that she and Ted would
not have him as a chaperone for the evening.

Ted gave her another quiet smile. He held open the inn's door,
then touched his hand to the small of her back and ushered her
inside. Like a gentleman. Like a date.

He's not a date, she chanted silently. He's got a girlfriend. We're
just old friends.

Don't push it, he ordered himself. Don't rush into anything.
This is just a fun ride. Nothing serious. Nothing real.

As he picked at his salad and Erika described what she'd done
all day, he contemplated telling her that he was now a single man.
But the words got stuck in his throat. Erika looked so vibrant, so
stunningly beautiful-he didn't want Marissa barging in on the
evening. Mentioning her, even in the context of the fact that she
was no longer in his life, would be an intrusion.

Or maybe that wasn't why he couldn't bring himself to tell
Erika about his newfound available status. Maybe he was just
being cautious. Self-protective. As long as Erika thought he was
still in a relationship, a buffer would remain between them. And
as much as Ted desired her, as much as he wanted to knock the
dishes and glasses from the table with a single swipe of his arm,
and then lean across that cozy linen-covered square and kiss her, he needed that buffer.

She had hurt him, after all. More than hurt him-she'd demolished him. Devastated him. Take it slow, Skala, he told himself.
Don't let her get close enough to hurt you again.

Not that he had any reason to think she wanted to get that
close. She was chatting away as if they were long-lost friends.
Nothing suggestive in her behavior. Nothing seductive.

Hell, she didn't have to do anything to be seductive. She just
had to exist. He'd gotten a crush on her the first time he'd seen
her, back in tenth grade. And here he was, eighteen years later, still
with a crush on her.

Keep your distance, Skala.

He'd kept his distance with Marissa, even when they'd been
living together. He'd always kept his distance with every woman.
The tactic had been successful. He'd been enjoying a good life, no
romantic crises, no lacerating pain, no crippling injuries. Women
came and went. Sometimes they came and stayed for three years,
and he tried, really tried to breach that distance. But he couldn't.
And when the breakup occurred, he felt ... regretful. Apologetic.
Sad to think he might be the one inflicting pain.

But he didn't suffer the pain himself. When Erika had broken
up with him all those years ago, he'd suffered enough pain to last
a lifetime. He would never, ever love a woman the way he'd loved
her.

He wouldn't even love her the way he'd loved her.

So what was he doing having dinner with her?

Playing with fire? Testing his willpower? Nostalgia, he tried to
convince himself. Good times for old times' sake.

He just wished she wasn't so freaking gorgeous, and exuberant,
and funny. And-damn it-seductive.

When she was done talking about her work and asking him about his, they talked about Ryan, and Laura, and Allyson, and
some of the other friends from their old high school crowd. They
discussed the free Shakespeare plays that would be staged at
Central Park that summer, the annual Nathan's Fourth of July
frankfurter-eating contest at Coney Island next week, and the
fireworks the city would blast over the Hudson River-a much
more fitting way to celebrate Independence Day than stuffing
one's face with wieners, in Erika's opinion. She'd insisted that he
taste her chicken, and he'd poked a bite of his steak into her
mouth, and he told himself that her eating off his fork and his
eating off hers didn't mean anything.

When they were done she suggested they go dancing. He was
far from ready to end the night, so he said sure. "I know this great
club near here-Atomic Slims," she told him.

"Sounds good." He led her out of the restaurant. The sidewalk
had grown crowded with pedestrians enjoying the balmy summer
night, and he took her elbow so he wouldn't lose her in the crowd.

No. He took her elbow because he wanted to touch her.
Because he felt the same way he'd felt when he'd seen her at
Fanelli's. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to hold her. He was
strong, his defenses in place, his heart untouchable-but man,
Erika pushed his buttons. All these years later, she still inspired an
adolescent lust in him. He wanted her.

The wave was building behind him. Catch it, he ordered himself. Ride it in. The worst that could happen would be that he got
tossed and wound up with a mouth full of sand.

"`I don't know what it is about you," he said, "but it's like
you've been etched in the forefront of my mind for the past sixteen years. And I can't get you out."

She said nothing. He could feel the tension ripple through
her-a catch in her gait, a shift in her shoulders, a tilt to her head. She seemed deep in thought.

A mouth full of sand, he thought bitterly. He could practically
taste the grit against his teeth.

Her silence continued

Christ. He shouldn't have said anything. She was going to hurt
him again-except no, he wasn't going to let her. He could actually feel something inside him contracting, withdrawing, folding
into a protective tuck. He assured himself that he was safe.
Invulnerable. She wouldn't destroy him again.