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Chapter 4

I'm a Jersey Girl. Born and bred. Jersey Girls have attitude. We have moxie. We wear our makeup strong and our heels high. Anyone, male, female, or any other gender identity, who has a problem with us, we just flip them off and tell them to take a hike. Let me tell you, Jersey Girl attitude and moxie flies right out the window when you're in an elevator car falling to earth.

I was clinging to the railing and screaming like the Perils of Pauline as that elevator plummeted to the ground. It felt like it was falling forever. I don't know if my life flashed before my eyes, but I was aware of some regrets. Not ever going skydiving or hang-gliding and trying to fly. Marrying the Dick when I knew I wasn't in love with him and that he was probably scum. Not trying harder in college. Not ever having a lover who made me feel like the whole world would stop as we made love. These thoughts flashed through my mind, seemingly in an instant as we fell.

Then a metallic screech and a sharp, jolting sudden stop. I was pitching toward the floor with the momentum when a hand caught my jacket and then pulled me up against a hard, masculine body. I was breathless with fear and shock and stared up at him wide-eyed as my mind tried to process the fact that we weren't dead or even injured. Even through my shock, I couldn't help noticing that this man was gorgeous. Skin the colour of milky coffee, dark, compelling eyes, and a chiselled profile. His body was gorgeous too, muscled, strong, and hard. He was definitely all man. His jet-black hair was shoulder-length and tied back with a leather tie. Despite the expensive suit and tie he wore, he looked dark, mysterious, and definitely dangerous. And sexy. Sexy as hell.

I felt his chest vibrate as he started to speak to me, but I didn't understand what he was saying. I guess he was speaking a foreign language. Spanish? I think anyway. I saw comprehension flash in his eyes, and he switched to English.

"Relax, babe, we're OK. The emergency break has engaged, and we can call for help."

Babe? Did he call me babe? His voice matched his persona, dark, deep, and a hint of accent. Even through everything, I felt a bit of a zing through me that this sex-personified man called me 'Babe'. I hoped I wasn't blushing too much.

I was still struggling to focus on what was happening, but he seemed to have recovered completely. Still holding me, he reached out to press what I registered as a faded red button. I didn't hear any alarm, and nothing lit up on the panel. I could only hope there was an alarm ringing somewhere in an office. He pulled out a cell phone and looked at it. Who was he calling now? Maybe he was going to call the fire department to come get us out? But he just put the phone back in his pocket. Guess we were back to the button.

I felt him gently push me to lean against the wall of the elevator as he walked up to the doors. He started to pull them apart, although only a couple of inches. What the hell was he doing? I decided to ask.

"Trying to open the doors," he grunted. Well duh, Stephanie! I wondered why? When I saw his brief look of "why the hell do you think?" I realised I must have asked the question out loud.

"Uh, I mean… you pressed the button. Won't that call for help, like you said?" My heart plummeted when he told me the button wasn't working. The wall I could see just outside the doors was blank, grey concrete. The outer doors were just visible at the top and bottom, so I guess we are in between floors.

Next, he started to stretch up to the ceiling and felt around the light panels. I'm no McGyver, so I was not sure what he was trying to do now. But I pressed my lips together to avoid asking again. Despite being around six feet, he could just reach the ceiling, so he dropped back down, looking contemplative. I watched as he eyed me, wondering what he was thinking.

Unexpectedly, he told me to climb on his shoulders. What the hell? My Jersey attitude finally started to re-emerge when I asked him why I would want to do that. He told me I was going to feel around the lights to find a ceiling hatch. I looked at the ceiling dubiously. Didn't look like any ceiling hatch to me. But since he was trying to get us out of here, I guess I'd better help if I can. Despite knowing nothing about him, and despite his dangerous air, there was something about him that felt like I could trust him. At least a little. Maybe not with my Hungarian hormones, but probably with a rescue.

I was thankful when he turned around and crouched down. Hiking up my pencil skirt to climb on his shoulders was not going to be elegant. As I tried to balance and slide my legs over his shoulders, the zing went through me again. This man was hard all over, very warm, and the scent of his cologne(?), aftershave(?), was stronger now. It was faintly citrus, slightly spice, and all delicious. I told myself to think about the elevator falling and not about where my hoo-hah was pressed up to. Dampening my panties now would be hugely embarrassing and humiliating. Thankfully, the thought of our current predicament was enough to distract my raging hormones.

He stood slowly and carefully, and I directed him to move around as I felt each of the four light panels to try and find some sort of hatch. But there was nothing. We were both disappointed, but he just lowered me to the floor. I tried to swing my legs off his shoulders, not wanting to risk any further friction of his warm skin or the brush of his hair in the ponytail on any sensitive flesh.

He stood, looking around like he'd run out of ideas. I asked him what was next, but he challenged me if I had any ideas. I felt embarrassed as I realised I was starting to behave like the Perils of Pauline, and not like a 21st century Jersey Girl. I wondered if the button was really not working. Maybe it just didn't have an alarm in the elevator car, like I'd originally thought? I reached out to push the button a few times again. Then I tried the open-door button, but it seemed to be as useless as the close door button had been.

As I reached to press the lobby button again, I felt his hand close gently but firmly around mine. "Pretty sure nothing is going to work in terms of opening or closing the doors or calling for help. And I'm very sure I don't want this thing to move again, since it doesn't seem to want to stop." The flashback in my head of the elevator falling was enough to discourage me from pushing any more buttons.

Suddenly, I remembered his cell phone. But when I asked why he didn't call someone, he told me there was no signal. I pulled out my own cell. It is a cheap prepaid phone, chunky and simple, but all I could afford. I had to have a cell when I was job hunting. Unfortunately, he was right. No signal. Dammit.

I had another idea. This McGyver thing might be easier than I thought! What if we could get a signal with the doors open? He didn't look too enthused but agreed to give it a try. He told me I'd have to be quick, since he couldn't hold the doors open for long. If this muscle man couldn't hold them open, I guess I wouldn't be able to open them at all.

I pulled out my phone and got it ready to dial 911. I watched a bit fascinated as he moved over. Even through the suit jacket, I could see the bunching and straining of his impressive physique as he pulled the doors apart. This was one fine specimen of a man. I shook off the thought and moved quickly to the door. I held the phone up as high as I could, even down around the door at the bottom, but nada. Not one single flicker of a signal bar to make a call.

I could hear the strain in his voice as he told me he couldn't hold the doors much longer. I moved back so he could release them. Now we both seemed to be out of ideas.

He moved back from the doors and stripped off his suit jacket. The charcoal dress shirt under the jacket is perfectly cut and moulded to his muscles. I can tell it is expensive. I may have been working in ladies' lingerie, but I had learned a lot about fashion and clothes in general, during my time with EE Martin. He pulled the black, silk tie off like he was relieved to be rid of it. The elevator car was getting pretty warm. The air conditioning was no better here than it had been in the fifth-floor office. I watched as he sat on the floor against the wall. I guess he was settling in for the wait.

I decided I should follow his lead and took off my own jacket. I felt cooler in my own inexpensive cotton shirt and the wall and floor felt cool through my clothes as I slid down beside him. I stretched my legs out like he had and settled against the wall. I guess we're waiting. Although for what I'm not sure. If the button didn't call anyone, who would be coming? But then, others would want to use the elevator, wouldn't they?

I'm not really a very patient person. Waiting is not my strong suit. This is going to get old quickly, and I sense I will annoy my companion if I start fidgeting, but I knew I'd quickly go stir crazy and the anxiety would start to take over if I couldn't find a distraction.

I tried to think of song lyrics or the plot of a book. Trouble is, nothing came to mind. I couldn't think of a single song, and I haven't read an entire book in forever. I tried to think about movies. Ahh, Ghostbusters! I had seen it hundreds of times, so I could remember every word, every scene. But Bill Murray was still cheating on his clairvoyance testing when I realised my mind had drifted back to the elevator and being stuck here.

I wonder what my companion is thinking about? He seemed content to sit in silence. I tried to glance at him discreetly. Suddenly, I wonder what his name is. If we are going to be trapped together in this box for who knows how long, at least I should know his name.

"I'm Steph." I ventured.

I know this has been a lot of scene-setting, but I felt it was necessary. Things will start to move forward now.