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Merda, she thought, and then, just because it seemed more appropriate, what she thought was Shit, shit, shit!
That was what her day had turned into. Shit. The power failure. Her pathetic fear. Getting drenched in the rain. And now this, the absolute zero data she’d gotten from what was to have been her final interview.
She’d have to find some way to incorporate the incident into her study results. As an anomaly? Yes, but the last thing she wanted was to end up taking part of her dissertation down a new path.
And why was she leaving out the most improbable of the day’s occurrences? The lieutenant, turning up in the city to ask her if she was—if she was—
“You could have phoned.”
She spoke before she thought. It took her by surprise. Not him. He simply clasped her arm a little more tightly and said, “Curb.”
Dio. Did he think she needed an early warning system?
“I see it! Just answer my question. Why did you not simply phone and ask me if—and ask me if—”
“If you were pregnant?” He shrugged. “It didn’t seem an appropriate conversation starter.”
Was he trying to be amusing? She couldn’t tell.
“I would have informed you if—if—”
“I don’t think so. You can’t even say the words now.” He came to an abrupt stop on the sidewalk and swung her towards him. “Is it so awful? The thought of you carrying my child?”
His eyes bored into hers. The dark green irises seemed bottomless. All at once, she had the feeling that she could tumble into their depths and if she did, she would never find her way out.
He was waiting for an answer, and she had none.
What saved her was another roar of thunder.
The storm had doubled back. In an instant, before the thunder had finished echoing overhead, they were standing in a downpour.
Chay cursed, threaded his fingers through hers and ran to the curb.
“Taxi,” he shouted, raising his hand.
He had the New Yorker-hailing-a-cab gesture right, but there was no way a cab would stop. Taxis and rain didn’t go together. Either the vehicles magically disappeared from the streets or the drivers ignored the desperate souls trying to flag them down…
A cab slipped out of the steady stream of traffic and set off a barrage of angry horns as it slid through two lines of vehicles and pulled up beside them.
Amazing. Even wet, the lieutenant commanded attention.
“Get in,” Chay said as he yanked open the door. When she hesitated, he all but pushed her inside, climbed in after her and pulled the door shut. “You want to keep arguing? Fine. We’ll argue, but I’m not in the mood to drown while we do.” He leaned forward. “Four-forty-four Thompson.”
Bianca stared at him. “That’s my address.”
“I hope so,” he said calmly, “because another thing I’m not in the mood for is dropping in on a stranger.”
The cab pulled away from the curb, made a turn at the next intersection, then joined the river of traffic heading downtown on Fifth Avenue.
“But,” Bianca said, or tried to say except her teeth were starting to chatter. She was freezing, not just wet now but drenched, and at the mercy of the taxi’s air-conditioning system.
Chay muttered something short and succinct, and rapped on the partition.
“Driver? Turn off that AC.”
The cabbie started to say something. Then he glanced in the mirror, caught a look at Chay, and quickly complied.
“I—I—I’m f—f—fine,” Bianca said.
