Apologies to all my loyal readers for the delay in this update. My muse has settled on a sequel but has been struggling with how and when the transition works. Inspirations struck a couple of days ago, and I have been able to start writing the last few chapters of this story. Please enjoy and I would love you to review!

Chapter 23

After teasing me about moaning over my pie, Carlos switches to asking about my plans and where I parked. I am reminded I still have to drive home. I repress a sigh at that. I do sigh over the other reminder that I am still unemployed, and that tomorrow is going to be another stressful day where I won't get another job. Still, I can't help being relieved in a way that I will never have to work in that building. I doubt that I could now, even if the interview had been successful.

Carlos surprises me when he invites me to stay with him tonight. Why? I know we have been flirting, but that was a bit too matter of fact to sound like an invitation to have sex with him. His arguments that it will make everything easier tomorrow are true, but I can't help feeling like this topsy-turvy day will never end. Some part of me longs to just flop on my own bed in my thinking position and let this whole day fade away. Still, I am so exhausted that I truly don't know if I could make the drive home and I cannot deny another part of me doesn't want to let go of Carlos today. He gives me options and choices that counteract every one of my objections. I am still very unsure of having him buy me clothes, but I will pay him back. Somehow. Somewhen? I sigh. My perilous financial situation is not something I feel capable to dwell on right now.

I think I really should go home, and I am leaning toward it until Carlos brings up my family. My mother. Oh. My. God. That is one horrific thought. That news crew undoubtedly filmed me, us, during the rescue. I'm going to be on the news! Even without an interview, there is little doubt they will show us being rescued. My grandma is going to be even worse than my mother if that's even possible. She won't leave me alone until she has every detail, so she can share it at the Clip 'n' Curl, her hair salon. I really don't think I can face that.

Carlos' offer may just save me, at least for today. I know I will still have to face the inquisition, probably tomorrow night. Wait, tomorrow night! Our date! Oh, no! I won't get to have our date; I'll have to go to my parents' house. Carlos proposes a solution, and I can see it might work. But it will mean I will have to tell them about Carlos, to get away for our date. That might be just as bad as the elevator saga, and I'm likely to be grilled about every detail of that as well. But in the end, it's just too tempting to have our date, and I cave.

I feel I have to warn Carlos about how my mother will react to my phone call though, he will probably hear her yelling and whining across the room. I nearly choke on the remnants of my coffee when he offers to talk to her on my behalf. I would love to see that. It would be interesting.

Carlos pays the check, and we make our way across the street to where he is parked. It strikes me suddenly that we are holding hands. Wow. He's holding hands with me. Somehow that makes me feel slightly giddy; after all it seems out of character for him. I can't deny I like it though.

Carlos seats me in his big black truck and asks directions to my car. I tell him where it is parked, and he drives us there. When we arrive at the parking lot, Carlos parks on the street and tells me to hang on. I sit in the truck, puzzled what he is doing, as he goes over to the parking attendant and starts having an animated conversation. The young man looks a little intimidated by Carlos and starts nodding vigorously at what he is saying. I see Carlos fish something out of his wallet and hand it to the attendant, before striding back to his truck.

He climbs in and starts the truck, about to pull out again, when I stop him. "Wait! Carlos, you need to let me out to get my car."

"No need, Babe," he assures me. "They're going to hold it in the lot overnight. I'll bring you back tomorrow to pick it up."

"But that will cost a fortune, Carlos! I can't afford it!"

He shakes his head, "No, they're only charging the day rate. I just explained to him what happened and that we'd appreciate if they would waive any extra charges. He was happy to help."

I felt completely bewildered by that. I doubt I would have been able to talk the attendant into that, no matter what argument I used. Carlos' bulk must have been the deciding factor. Something strikes me though, "But how did you know which was my car? I didn't tell you."

Carlos pauses at that, and shakes his head. "I'm really slipping," he says. "Completely forgot about that." He pulls the car out and drives up to the driveway where the attendant is standing. "Forgot to tell you which car," he barks. "Babe?"

I point three rows over where my car is just visible through a gap. "The red Mazda Miata," I reply. I give the attendant the license plate number. The attendant just nods, still looking thoroughly in awe of Carlos.

Carlos gives him a brief nod of thanks and pulls back out of the driveway to head off. "Problem solved," he tells me with a tip-lipped smirk.

I frown. "What problem?" I ask.

"I don't have any visitor parking at my apartment building, Babe," is all he tells me. Ohhh-kay?

Carlos drives us to a large Target and manages, somehow, to get the park beside the disabled parking, right at the entrance. I would be in the back row, next to the trolley park. He slides out and comes around to my side to open the door. "Come on, Babe. Shopping!" He exclaims. If holding hands seems out of character for him, I just cannot imagine him shopping. But he seems exuberant about the outing.

I allow him to lead me into the store and we head for the ladies' department. I am intending to just find the cheapest pair of jeans and shirt I can wear with my low heels I wore with my skirt suit today. I'll rinse out my underwear and make do. Carlos doesn't seem to be interested in that plan though, browsing through the racks of clothes and picking up various tops and pants. He looks over at me a couple of times, evidently deciding if he wants to see me in it. It's a little flattering, but also a bit frustrating, as he doesn't listen when I point out cheaper options to what he is selecting. In the end, he has two tops and a pair of low-rise jeans in his hands as he leads me to the dressing rooms.

"Try them, Babe," he instructs. "And come show me." He gives me a dazzling smile that befuddles me enough to get me into the dressing room. I pull on the jeans, which fit me perfectly. To my amazement, they look fantastic. My ass looks like it was made for these jeans. I pick out the top I think I will like best, a sleeveless, lilac top that clings to my curves without being too tight. I think it looks fantastic too. So, I step out of the dressing room to show Carlos.

Carlos' look is riveted on me as I step out, almost as intense as it was while I was eating the pie. His gaze goes to my ass and his eyes darken perceptibly. I feel my own face flush slightly at the return of his intense expression, and was that a growl? However, he doesn't make any comments except to tell me, "Try the other top, Babe."

I'm a little disappointed at that, as I thought this top looks great on me, but obediently, I go in to change into the other top. This is a plainer t-shirt, in a deep blue that compliments my eyes. But it doesn't cling like the lilac top, and it comes down a little further over my waist to my hips. I step back out, and Carlos looks me over again and nods. "You should keep them on Babe," he says. I guess he likes this top better. Maybe he likes the fact it covers me up more? Is he jealous of other men looking at me? I hesitate, considering his advice to wear the jeans and t-shirt out of the store. It is tempting, especially as I don't really want to put my soiled skirt and top back on. In the end I agree, and I step back into the dressing room only long enough to remove the price tags and roll up my soiled clothes as tightly as possible to put them into my purse.

Carlos takes the other top that I had intended to put onto the returns rack and leads me out of the ladies' department. I ask, "Why didn't you put the lilac top back, Carlos?"

"You need both, Babe," he responds like it's obvious. "One for tonight, one for tomorrow." I consider objecting to that, but in the end, I decide I like the lilac top too much to complain. After a minute, I realise Carlos is not leading me to the checkouts, however.

"Where are we going now, Carlos?"

"Lingerie, Babe. You need nightwear and lingerie."

"No, Carlos!" I exclaim. "I can just wash my lingerie out, and borrow a t-shirt to sleep in. I can't afford all these new clothes." He pauses momentarily as I mention borrowing his t-shirt, and I am struck by the bemused expression on his face. He then turns his intensity back to me.

"Yes to borrowing my shirt," he murmurs in a sexy tone. "But you need lingerie, Babe. I told you; you can pay me back later. I don't care."

I give up and allow him to lead me into the lingerie department. Despite working in lingerie sales, i have never before shopped for my own lingerie with a man in tow. I can't help the light blush that seems permanently fixed to my face as I browse the bra and panty sets. This time, Carlos does not select anything for me, but watches me intently as I choose an inexpensive, but attractive, lacy, pale blue bra and panty set in my size. It is something I would choose for myself normally, so I am comfortable with my selection. As I turn to Carlos to leave, he reaches behind me and selects the same set in my size in black. He holds it up and nods decisively.

"Black is always better, Babe." He smiles a lazy-tiger smile at me, and my face flushes again. The pale blue is more versatile, but I feel helpless to object as he takes the blue set out of my unresisting fingers and replaces it with the black set.

I am sure we are heading to the checkouts now, but I am surprised as Carlos starts leading me in another direction. "Where are we going now?" I enquire.

He looks at me, a little puzzled, "You said that you need toiletries, Babe. I have a spare toothbrush, but I figured you'd want other things," he added.

I almost slap my forehead at my own stupidity. I pick up a few necessities in the toiletries department, and Carlos finally leads me to the checkouts. As we leave the store, Carlos opens the car door and smiles at me, "That was fun," he says.

I'm a Jersey girl. Shopping is always fun to me. I didn't think a man like Carlos would think so, but it seems like he meant it. I just shake my head slightly and smile back at him. "It was fun," I reply. "With you." His smile becomes blinding at that.

He guides the truck out of the parking lot and navigates to an area of Newark I am unfamiliar with. He pulls up in front of a simple, modern apartment building that has six floors, and swipes a security card to open a gated garage door. The gate leads to a ramp down to a basement car park and he glides smoothly into a space marked 6A. I guess we are going to the top floor.

Carlos gathers my shopping bags and leads me over to an elevator in the corner. We wait absently, but when the doors slide open, I am suddenly paralysed, unable to step even one inch into the elevator car. Carlos notices my frozen posture and turns enquiringly towards me. He takes one look at my face, locked in an expression of fear, and the slight trembling that is starting in my hands. He looks into the elevator, and comprehension sweeps over his face.

"Oh Babe, I'm so sorry," he soothes. "I didn't even think." He pulls me to his chest and hugs me comfortingly. "Come on, Babe," he adds, and leads me away from the elevator to the stairs. Normally I never take the stairs, and it would be unthinkable to me to walk up seven flights of stairs when there is an elevator there, but today I follow him willingly into the stairs. By the time we get to the sixth floor, I am sweating, panting and breathless at the unaccustomed exertion, but still grateful that Carlos understood my fear. To my irritation, Carlos' breathing hasn't even altered, and there isn't even a trace of perspiration on his brow. He probably walks up the stairs every day.

Carlos unlocks his apartment door and leads me inside, flicking on lights. The apartment is not luxurious, but it is neat and modern, and decorated in soothing beige and oatmeal tones. I am still glancing around when Carlos comes over to me and stands very close to me.

"Welcome to my home, Babe," he says in a low, sexy voice.

Looking into his eyes, I cannot help but wonder if I have wandered into the wolf's den.

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