Love Is a Breeze Page 6

  John pointed at the large sock on her foot.

  “A pair of shoes might be a good idea.”

  “Oh, right.” She executed a sharp U-turn and headed to the shoe section.

  She grabbed a pair of orange flip-flops and tossed them on top of the pile. John frowned and picked up a pair of sturdy athletic shoes.

  “Not my size,” Brianna said.

  “Well, find some that are your size because I’m not letting you out of here with only those things. They’re dangerous,” he said, pointing at the flip-flops.

  Brianna hesitated, giving him a mutinous glance. John crossed his arms and refused to budge. She gave in, again, and found a pair of red plaid sneakers in her size and dropped them triumphantly into the basket. John shook his head.

  When she reached the checkout, John waited for her. He tossed a bottle of purple nail polish onto the conveyor belt.

  She added a bottle of polish remover. Their eyes locked.

  He chose a pack of gum.

  She picked up a candy bar.

  He reached for a magazine.

  “Enough, already. These aren’t necessary.” She leaned forward and unloaded her basket, blocking John’s attempt to help. John tossed two magazines onto the pile. Brianna rolled her eyes and headed for the exit.

  She waited several minutes before turning back to the checkout counter. John was laughing with the cute, young clerk who beamed her best, metal enhanced smile at him.

  “Are you about done here?” Brianna asked.

  John gathered up the bags and caught up to her at the exit.

  “I thought you were over being mad at me. Now, I’m not so sure,” John said.

  “I’m not mad.”

  John attempted to help her off the scooter but she shook her arm free. She hopped off and hobbled out the door ahead of him.

  “No, you’re not mad,” John followed her to the sidewalk.

  She got as far as the curb and stopped. How was she going to manage the curb without landing on her butt in the gutter?

  John approached but refrained from offering his assistance.

  “Wait here. I’ll get the car.” He dug the keys from his pocket and walked the short distance to the car.

  He pulled up in front of Brianna and leaned across the passenger seat to open the door but she jerked it open before he reached the handle. She’d barely fastened her seatbelt when he took off with a jolt only to stop abruptly before entering the street. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye taking note of the clenched jaw and tight lips. She took a deep breath, drawing his attention.

  “I’m sorry.” She gave him a timid smile. “I guess I’m a little tired and my ankle hurts but that’s no excuse for being rude or ungrateful for all you’ve done.”

  John didn’t answer but his features relaxed. He pulled into a strip mall a short distance away.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” he said, opening his door.

  Brianna watched as he entered a medical supply store. Okay, now I really feel bad. How can I be so grumpy when he’s being so nice? It doesn’t bother me that a teenager practices her flirting on him. Yes, it does, but it shouldn’t. She closed her eyes, leaning her head back on the headrest. He’s my boss, my bossy boss.

  He returned in a few minutes with a quad-cane, stowing it on top of the crutches in the back seat.

  “Thank you,” she said, tears inexplicably clouding her eyes.

  “You’re welcome,” he stated with a smile which she returned before averting her eyes to look out the side window. Bossy boss, bossy boss. Damn!

  He surprised her when he reached over and patted her hand as it lay on the console.

  “We’ll be home in a couple of minutes. You can rest while I reheat the dinner Mrs. Miller left for us.”

  Brianna, unable to speak through the lump in her throat, could only nod.

  The drive to John’s condo took only fifteen minutes but Brianna it felt like an eternity. She leaned her head on the headrest and watched buildings and cars pass the window.

  Her conflicting emotions disturbed her. A cry baby one second and a shrew the next - not like her normal, cheerful self at all. He glanced at her and smiled before returning his attention to the road. Her heart raced. She wasn’t sure if she liked this feeling either. Well, actually, she did like the feeling, it was just… impossible. He was her boss and off limits. The last thing she needed in her life right now was more complications. Turning her head back to the side window, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand when the incessant tears threatened again.

  John pulled up in front of his building, leaving the engine running as he exited. The valet waited while he helped Brianna out. Handing her the new cane, he turned back to retrieve the packages.

  “We’ll donate the crutches to a free clinic,” he said, taking her arm to steady her as she limped to the entrance aided by the cane.

  Once in the elevator, he let go of her arm. The warmth lingered as a reminder of his touch. She released a long sigh.

  “You must be worn out,” he said, as the elevator doors opened. “Go lie down and I’ll find the heating pad for your ankle.”

  Exhausted, more from the emotional upheaval than the physical activity, she didn’t argue. Limping to the bed, she sat on the edge to remove the now dirty sock and the splint before swinging her legs onto the bed. John came in a few minutes later carrying a heating pad under his arm, a glass of water in one hand and a bottle of pain reliever in the other. He reached behind the night stand to plug in the heating pad, his head so close she could smell his after-shave. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and lay back on the pillow.

  “Sit up and take these,” he said, shaking two tablets from the bottle. She rose on one elbow and opened her mouth. He dropped the pills in and handed her the water. Moving to the foot of the bed, he carefully picked up her foot, gently placed it onto the heating pad and switched it on low. Her eyes closed.

  CHAPTER Seven

  Brianna awoke to total darkness and complete silence. It took a few seconds to get her bearings before switching on the bedside lamp. She leaned down to turn off the heating pad. It was already off, though still warm. Noticing the packages on the dresser, she sat up, reached for the cane and hobbled over to put away the items. After putting the toiletries in the bathroom, the jeans, shirts and shoes in the closet, she returned to gather the items that needed washing and discovered an extra bag. Reaching inside, she pulled out a sundress.

  Clutching the dress, she tottered as fast as her cane would allow, in search of her benefactor. Entering the darkened living room, she saw a light coming from a room in the opposite corner and headed toward it.

  “What’s this?” she said, holding up the dress as if it were contaminated.

  John looked up from the book he was reading.

  “I believe it’s a dress.”

  “I know it’s a dress. It isn’t a necessity.”

  “Does everything have to be a necessity? The green matched your eyes so I bought it. We can take it back if you don’t like it”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I can’t afford it.”

  “It’s a gift, Brianna. Say ‘thank you.’”

  “Thank you, Mr. Sharp.”

  “John.”

  Brianna looked startled. “Excuse me.”

  “You can call me ‘John.’ Mr. Sharp and Miss Ryan seem a little formal under the circumstances, don’t you think?”

  She swallowed, then stammered, “Well, yes. I suppose it is but only here. You’re still ‘Mr. Sharp’ at work.”

  John laughed. “I somehow didn’t figure you for a strict protocol type person.” He lowered his feet from the hassock and stood up. “I hope you’re hungry because I’m starved. Put the dress on while I see about dinner.”

  She watched him walk to the kitchen before heading to her room to try on the dress. He waited to have dinner with me. A feeling of elation surged through her.

  * * * *

  Brianna crosse
d the long, narrow kitchen taking note of the tall cherry cabinets above the black granite countertops. She sat on a stool at the small peninsula bar while John heated the dinner Mrs. Miller had left for them.

  “You’re not a shark – I mean, you’re much nicer–”

  John faced her and raised one eyebrow. Brianna felt the blush travel up from the low ‘V’ of her neckline and settle onto her cheeks.

  “I mean you’re different than you are at work.” She looked down and traced the pattern of the granite countertop with her fingernail. When she looked up he smiled.

  She watched as John took dishes out of the refrigerator and set them on the countertop. He put the lasagna in the microwave. While it heated, he uncovered a mixed green salad and set bottles of dressing beside it.

  “Anything I can do?” Brianna asked.

  “I’ve got it,” John replied, getting plates and bowls from the cabinet followed by silverware from a drawer.

  He removed the lasagna and wrapped several slices of buttered French bread in paper towels placing them in the microwave. Reaching into the wine cooler under the counter, he pulled out a bottle of red wine, then put it back in.

  “Probably not a good idea under the circumstances,” he said, looking at Brianna.

  “Not for me but you go ahead. I’ll just have water or juice, if you have any.”

  “I do. What would you like, orange, apple or cranberry?”

  “Apple’s fine.”

  He poured juice into two stemmed wine glasses before serving their food.

  “Where would you like to eat? Here? The dining room? How about the terrace?”

  “The terrace would be lovely.” She answered. The kitchen suddenly seemed warm.

  The lake caught, shimmered and reflected the moon and stars. John leaned back in his chair, captivated by the copper highlights dancing in Brianna’s hair as a slight breeze lifted the silky strands. Brianna ran a hand over her hair, smoothing the wayward curls and shivered.

  “You must be chilly,” John rose and extended his hand to assist her. “I’ll clear the dishes. I’ll give you a tour of the condo if you’re feeling up to it.”

  “I’d like that.”

  John gathered the dinnerware and took it to the kitchen. Brianna hobbled after him. She leaned heavily on her cane as she watched him. When he’d finished, he gestured for her to lead the way through a doorway between the peninsula and the door to the terrace. He offered his hand as she negotiated the step down from the black marble tile to the silver plush carpet of the large sunken room that served as both living room and dining room.

  “Did you take these photos?” She said, pointing to a group of black and white photographs on the wall opposite the fireplace. “They’re quite good.”

  “I did, thank you. That’s about the only thing I had to do with this room.”

  Brianna looked at him quizzically.

  He continued past the teak dining table surrounded by six straight backed chairs covered in dove gray fabric.

  “I had a party a couple of years ago. Kaitlyn gave me her decorator’s number. Apparently my condo wasn’t up to her standards.”

  “These glass sculptures are colorful.” Brianna ran a finger over the artwork on the lighted shelves that flanked the white marble fireplace.

  John picked up a blue vase, reminiscent of waves.

  “This is the only piece I picked out. I bought it at a little gallery in Hawaii.”

  “It’s beautiful,” she said. It was the only piece she really liked.

  She glanced at the large painting above the mantel.

  “I’m not a big fan of modern art but it does add color to the room.” John said. “I have to wonder what they were thinking when they painted it.”

  “I imagine they were feeling more that thinking.”

  John studied the painting and stroked his chin. “Okay. What was he feeling?”

  “Modern art is very subjective, much more so than other paintings like a landscape or still-life. It invokes different feelings in different people. This one makes me feel the artist’s anger.”

  “Really? How so?”

  “His liberal use of bold red slashes– red always seems angry– at least to me. The purple lines are a transition to the blue. The purple represents confusion and the blue denotes peace. He used much more purple than blue so, I’m guessing he was more confused than at peace when he painted this.” She smiled up at John who appeared to be interested so she continued. “He used a small sunburst of yellow in that corner probably representing hope. To me he was angry but wanted peace and he had a small ray of hope so all was not lost.”

  “You got all that from this?” He swept his hand in front of the painting.

  “Or, it could be that he just liked bold colors or was higher that a kite.” She grinned.

  John laughed.

  They passed the long and sleek charcoal ultra suede sofa flanked by four white chairs. Glass topped teak tables with contemporary brushed stainless lamps completed the room. An entire wall of floor to ceiling windows with access to the terrace framed the dining area. John pressed a button on the wall. Silver silk draperies slowly moved across the windows obscuring the sparkling lake.

  They continued into the den where the décor was a dramatic contrast to the living room. Walnut paneling covered the walls. Book shelves lined the end wall and another long one, broken up by an antique credenza. A large seascape hung above it.

  Brianna ran a hand lightly over the frame of the painting.

  “I love Winslow Homer. This is an original, isn’t it?”

  John nodded. “My great-grandfather bought it shortly after the Civil War before Homer became famous.” He picked up a remote control and pushed a button. A large, flat screen television descended from the ceiling in front of the painting. He opened drawers that housed numerous DVD’s and showed her how to use the player and sound system. “That should keep you entertained while you’re convalescing.”

  An over-stuffed loveseat faced the TV. A matching chair and ottoman sat at an angle. Heavy wood end tables held antique brass lamps that cast a warm glow in the room. A desk with a computer occupied the area in front of another wall of windows that could be covered by deep blue drapes.

  He led her through the living room, assisting her up the step to the entry level. He pointed out the half bath and a utility room off the entry hall, opposite the kitchen, before continuing past her bedroom to a set of double doors.

  He held the door open, suggesting she should precede him into the room. Another windowed wall opposite the door drew her eyes to the moonlight streaming across the king sized bed. John turned on a bedside lamp casting a soft glow. She forced her gaze away from the black damask striped duvet. Cobalt accents softened the stark masculinity of the room. He continued into the master bath. Brianna’s eyes widened. It was nearly as big as Carly’s whole apartment. John brought her attention to a large black tub. It sat on a raised platform under the corner windows that framed the city skyline.

  “I thought you might want to use this. It would help your ankle.” He showed her how to turn on and adjust the multiple jets and water temperature. “Feel free to use it anytime.” He smiled.

  Brianna felt as if she could melt onto the marble floor.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  After finally getting a full night’s sleep, Brianna woke early. She slipped into her robe and went to the kitchen. The condo was quiet which meant John was either not up or already gone - most likely the latter.

  She found a box of Honey Nut Cheerios in the pantry and poured a bowl, adding milk. Perching on a bar stool at the peninsula to eat, Brianna opened the newspaper that lay on the counter.

  John entered the room dressed in his workout clothes, a towel draped around his neck, his tousled hair falling across his brow. Brianna inhaled a mouthful of cereal and spewed it across the countertop and newspaper. John quickly crossed the room and thumped her back while she coughed and struggled to regain her breath.

&n
bsp; “Okay?” John asked when she finally stopped coughing.

  Brianna nodded. “Sorry, I kind of messed up your paper. You startled me. I thought you’d gone to work.”

  “I leave for work at seven-thirty. I work out from six to seven.”

  Brianna filed the information away for future reference.

  John moved to the other side of the bar which made breathing infinitely easier for her. She appreciated the play of muscles in his bare arm as he took a cup from the cupboard and filled it with coffee, offering her one. She shook her head. Probably best to keep my mouth empty, she thought.

  He put an English muffin - whole wheat - into the toaster while she cleaned up the mess she’d made. When the muffin popped up he topped it with fruit spread.

  He eats healthy, she thought but said, “You’ve got a lot of muscles for a desk jockey.”

  “Excuse me?”John turned with his muffin half way to his mouth.

  Brianna blushed. “It’s just that, normally, one wouldn’t expect someone who sits behind a desk all day to have such well developed muscles. You’re in really good shape.”

  “Thank you.” He leaned against the cabinet, ankles crossed, an amused glint in his eyes, and took a bite of the muffin. He licked the jam from his lips.

  Brianna looked at her bowl of soggy Cheerios and pushed it away.

  After John cleared the dishes and went to take a shower, she brewed a cup of tea adding cream and sugar. She sat at the breakfast bar stirring the drink and studying the classified ads.

  John returned, hair still damp but neatly combed, dressed in a gray pinstripe suit with a blue shirt and blue and gray striped tie.

  “Are there no affordable apartments in this city?” She looked up with a frown.

  “Don’t worry about it, I’m sure something will turn up” He glanced at his watch. “I have to leave now but I’ll be home around six. Mrs. Miller will check on you at noon.”

  “Oh. Doesn’t she work today?”

  “No, she cleans and fixes meals for the week on Mondays. She works for others in the building the rest of the week. She’s married to the night security guard. Write down her cell number in case you need anything.”