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“Do you miss living in the city?” Brent asked.
“Sometimes. I was never a big partier, though.”
“Really? I thought you’d probably done some exciting things with my dad,” Brent said softly, glancing at her.
“Like what?”
“Concerts, the ballet. Plays and the opera. He loved all that shit.”
“Jack took your Aunt Marie to those kinds of things. What we did together was different. He wanted to visit every sidewalk café in the city. We also went to the farmer’s markets and the swap meets around town. He followed a couple of local musicians, and we never missed their concerts.” Then, out of the blue, Sandra made a confession to Brent. “I’m sorry I hurt you and your sister and mother. I really am.”
Brent pulled over to the curb in front of a shoe repair shop. Sandra didn’t recognize the neighborhood. The sign for the shop had been painted on the window, like something out of a vintage movie.
“I never blamed you,” he said. He reached over to take her hand.
At first, Sandra resisted it. But what harm would it really do? Relaxing, she held his hand.
“You didn’t? You were the only one, then,” she replied.
He moved his hand up her arm, under the sleeve of her shirt, and pulled her over. The tips of his fingers were close to her armpit. It tickled and aroused her. He was strong for being solean. As wrong as it was, Sandra’s body responded to Brent’s embrace. She reluctantly put her arms around him, turning in the seat so she was facing him, and without missing a beat, they kissed.
His breath was smoky, but he’d had a mint, and before long, she was enjoying the taste of him. Sandra couldn’t put the brakes on. Brent’s hand slipped to her waist and then up to her breast. It didn’t stay there long, moving down to her thigh. He worked his hand up the leg of her capris, but fortunately, he couldn’t get any higher than mid-thigh. Their lips parted, and they rested their heads on each other’s shoulders.
“Saved by her pants,” Brent said, laughing.
Sandra smoothed his face with her hand. “Where were you four years ago?” she asked sadly.
“It’s not too late,” Brent said.
“Yes, it is. I can’t have an affair. We are going to be working together. If that’s not enough reason to not get involved with you, I don’t know what is.”
Brent turned the key in the ignition. “Put your seatbelt on.” She did as he said. “Let’s just let things be. I apologize for kissing you.”
That wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but she decided to take the passive route. “Okay, I guess.”
He looked over at her and smiled before he pulled out into traffic again. When he could, he took her hand and held on to it. Desire cruised through her body.
Yet she was tempting fate. What the hell is wrong with me?
Once they were over the bridge, it didn’t take long to get to Jack’s apartment. Brent pulled his car into the Madison Avenue parking garage, and Pam’s SUV was already there. They got out of the car and automatically moved together, like magnets. He reached for her hand, and she let him take it.Who would see them together on Madison Avenue?
Sandra sent Pam a text.I’m here.
Waiting for the elevator to arrive, Pam gave out a yelp when she saw her son through the opening doors. He embraced her, teasing her for being short.
“How’d this come about?” Pam asked, switching her finger between him and Sandra.
“He saw me walking along and offered me a ride,” she said.
“Well, come on in,” Pam said, sweeping her arm toward the door.
The dynamic of the day would be changed with Brent there, but they had a good time talking and having lunch and getting out a deck of cards. Nothing intense or controversial was discussed and Pam agreed that Brent should have the apartment.
They drank champagne, ate quiche, and laughed, Brent winning and losing and then winning again at pinochle.
“I’m not playing anymore,” Sandra said, slapping her hands on her knees.
“Why not?” Brent asked, frowning. “I’m having fun.”
