1Before There Was Darkness LongLashes1

Part Ten

"It's you." He wasn't entirely sure what flashed across that beautiful face or exactly what was reflected in her big blue grey eyes; shock definitely, but he also thought he might have detected a hint of pleasure there as well.

"Yeah, it's me. Look, I'm sorry to barge in on you like this ..." He felt very much like a little school boy, a very shy, very nervous little school boy.

She was as gracious as she was attractive. She placed her hand lightly on his shoulder. "Why don't we move to my office. I have a little time before my next appointment." He followed her back to a large corner office; her name was on the door. Definitely out of your league, he thought to himself, way out.

"Please, sit," she said, gesturing to a soft green leather couch. As inviting as it appeared, he looked at it a little hesitantly. "Or maybe you'd be more comfortable in one of the chairs? Can I get you something, a coffee, tea, or a soda?."

"A coffee would be great if it's no trouble." She hit the intercom on her desk. "Mandy, would you bring us a carafe and two mugs. Thank you."

Jim shrugged his jacket off and laid it over the arm of the couch. He managed, somehow, to get himself planted in the chair. She caught him wincing at the effort; he was obviously still feeling some pain, meaning that this injury was relatively recent. And yet, here he is; he came looking for you.

"You're hurt," she said, an undertone of sympathy in her voice. "I couldn't help but notice last night. Is that a hazard of the job?"

"In this case, yes. I met a perp who just happened to be a little bigger than me."

She looked genuinely concerned. "Does that happen often?"

"I hope not." He grinned at her.

Great smile. Warm, genuine, good sense of humor. "So, Detective Dunbar..."

"Jim., please."

"So, Jim, to what do I owe this unexpected visit? I take it this is not official business because you haven't shown me your badge or read me my rights." She sat down on the couch, and crossed those incredibly long legs. Pouring a mug of coffee, she handed it to him. "Cream or sugar?"

"Just black, please," he said, reaching out to take the steaming mug from her and setting it on the table. No ring on her left hand. Damn good thing. He was struck by the notion that he hadn't spent nearly enough time thinking this out before dashing out the door, not half as much as he probably should have. What the hell would you have done if she were married?

"This is a little awkward...I know that's how I'm feeling, anyway." Come on, you're a grown man, for God's sake. Just spit it out. "I believe I made a mistake last night and I'd like a chance to make it right."

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean." There was a look of definite confusion on her face.

"I, uh, ..." he hesitated, slightly, "that is, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. There I said it... I apologize if that seems a little forward and I hope I'm not out of line here." He looked at her, catching his lower lip in his teeth, waiting, watching for her reaction, some sort of reaction, any reaction at all.

"Well," she smiled, "to tell you the truth, Detective, I spent the better part of my evening thinking about you, too. And I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little disappointed that you didn't do something about it last night."

The nerves he had been struggling to control seemed to dissipate in that instant. "So, this wasn't necessarily a bad move on my part? Coming here?"

Christine shook her head. "No, I don't think it was."

"I am so glad to hear you say that."

"I have to admit, I was more than a little curious when they paged me to tell me there was a Detective looking for me. It was a very pleasant surprise to see you in the lobby." She took a dainty sip of her coffee."But if I might ask, how did you find me?"

There was a little touch of teasing in his grin. "I'm a Detective. I had a few places to look."

She laughed easily. "That's what I would call putting the job to work for you. How long have you been a detective, Detective?"

"Not quite two years."

"And before that?" She was trying to do the math; late twenties, early thirties?

"I've been a cop for almost 8 years, beat cop first , then anti-crime."

"All of it here in the City?"

"Yes. I grew up here." He stopped himself short, not wanting to mention the ties to Red Hook, just yet. He hoped she wouldn't ask. She didn't.

"And what is it that you investigate now, Detective?" she asked, intrigued.

"Homicides." He said it so matter of factly. Seeing the look on her face, he added, "I know, but someone's got to do it. It may as well be me."

"I'm not sure I know too many people who would have the stomach for that kind of work." She glanced at her watch. "Oh, I hate to cut this short but I have a meeting in15 minutes . Can we continue this conversation another time?"

"How about tomorrow night?"

"I'm afraid I can't. Please don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't want to, it's just that we have a big show early next week. I'm afraid my calendar is full from now until Tuesday with meetings and preparation."

"Well, then, how about Wednesday? Dinner?"

"I'd like that." She flashed him another one of those gorgeous smiles. Walking over to her desk, she pulled something from her top desk drawer and brought it to him. "Here's my card. Why don't you call me on Wednesday and tell me what you have in mind."

"That sounds good."

She lifted his jacket from the arm of the couch and held it up so he could slip into it. "I'll walk you out." They said good-bye at the main door to the reception area.

"So, see you on Wednesday, Jim?" It wasn't a question really; she was certain he would call.

"Yeah, I'll see you then." Half way out the door, he turned," It was nice to meet you, Christine Sullivan."

"Likewise, Detective."

There was a little extra energy in his step as he crossed the lobby of Style Magazine. She floated back to her office. Five days was a long time to wait but she was very much aware that as full as her schedule was the time would fly by. Wednesday would be here before she knew it.

A light snow was beginning to fall as he exited the building and stepped out into the bustle of mid-afternoon Madison Avenue. The heartbeat of the city raced around him; horns honked, traffic moved slowly like a weaving serpent along the street. He was oblivious to that world, lost in contemplation.

She had surprised him. Her beauty was without question; if it were possible she was even more so today. Where he was big and all rough edges, she was petite and refined, almost delicate. Although he had expected there to be a hint of arrogance, there was none. She was so very real; down to earth and unassuming. The smile that had captivated him in the first place was never far away; and the laugh that accompanied it was full of life. He had never met anyone quite like her. Seeing her again was five long days away; he hoped the time between now and then would slip by in a New York minute.

Passing a small flower shop, he ducked inside and placed a standing order for a single long-stemmed red rose. A rose a day for five days should keep me fresh in her mind, he thought.

He didn't need anything to keep her in his.