Authors: Liv Morris
Taps at my window draw me out of my reverent moment. I look
out to see a young man staring at me through the glass. He’s mouthing something
and motioning for me to roll down my window. I reach for the button and roll it
down.
"Are you alright?" the stranger asks.
"I think so," I reply, rubbing the small knot
forming by my left temple. He smiles down at me with a beautiful display of
white teeth. I want to restate my condition, as the snowflakes blow around him.
He makes me feel anything but okay. I must’ve hit my head harder than I
realized.
"You look a little pale. Why don't you come and sit in
my car?" His eyes have a look of concern, but I think I see a smile
lurking behind them. "I have a feeling we're gonna be here for quite
awhile."
He points to the bus that’s hugging my car and blocking all
the lanes in front of us. "Someone will have to come and tow away the bus
before we can even think about moving our cars."
I watch snowflakes land on the young man's black cashmere
coat and can see a signature Burberry scarf peeking out from around his neck,
which leads me back up to his face. It’s hard to look away from him. I've heard
people call hot guys beautiful, but this guy really fits the description. He
has a strong jaw line, high cheekbones, and intense, dark brown eyes that
continue to study me. He is, without a doubt, one hundred percent delicious.
I need to pull myself out of this beautiful boy daze and
answer him. He wants me in his car, with him. Um, that sounds like a plan as I
throw caution to the wind.
I've seen the movie
American Psycho
, but right now
I'm freezing and stranded in the damn snow on New Year’s Eve with a head that’s
hurting. I decide to take my chances and smile up at him, feeling warm already.
I did mention that he was gorgeous, right?
“Sure, why not?” I finally answer back.
After grabbing my purse and rolling up the window, I turn as
he opens the door for me. Next thing I know he’s holding my hand and sheltering
me from the wind and snow with his body as he walks me to his car. Jeez, I
thought beautiful guys like him were all jerks.
Oh please, oh please, Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome, prove
all those urban rumors wrong. I want to believe in miracles today.
Once I’m inside his car, I look
around me
.
Quite impressive.
I have no idea what kind of sports car this is, but it’s one sweet ride and
expensive too. I can just tell.
I run my hands over the smooth, leather seats as I melt into
their soft luxury. I'm thinking he's an attorney at this point, probably for
one of the big firms downtown. But he does seem pretty young to have such a sweet
ride. Family money, perhaps?
The driver's side door opens. His long suit-covered legs
stretch into the floorboard as he moves into his seat. I find myself straightening
up and feeling a little nervous. It isn’t everyday that a guy like him invites
me into a car like this. Actually, it’s never happened to me. Maybe that little
bump on my head is making me dream because this whole scenario seems a little
surreal to me.
I look up into his eyes. They’re shining at me. His hair has
snow scattered throughout the brown waves. He runs his fingers through them and
smoothes away the white specks. My eyes move to his mouth. His lips move and I simply
can’t look anywhere else.
"I guess I should introduce myself. I'm Drew Michaels."
A glove-covered hand reaches across the middle console toward me. My hand
stretches out to meet his.
"Hi, Drew. I'm Katrina Williams. Kat, for short.”
“Hi, Kat.” He pronounces my name slowly and just above a whisper.
Like he’s tasting it. I’m pretty sure my body heat has melted any snow left on
me. Somehow, I need to pull myself together and respond back.
“Thanks for letting me sit in your car. It's awesome, by the
way." I smile up at him. His head almost grazes the car’s interior roof.
"My pleasure. I really mean
that
, by the way.”
Did he just wink at me? I’m sure he did.
“I'm glad you're okay. Your car may be a different story,
though." He looks me over concerned. “You’re all right?”
“Just a little head bump from hitting the window. Nothing
big, really.” I neglect to tell him there’s a small knot on the side of my head
and that I’m feeling a bit dizzy. The dizzy part may be his fault, after all.
It’s the “hot guy talking to me” syndrome. I’ve had it a few times over the
years. Makes me a bundle of nerves among other things.
“Head injuries are nothing to scoff at. Here, show me where you
hit your head.” He moves closer to me. I get a whiff of his cologne. It’s spicy
and very, very nice. I point to the small bump and breathe in deep. He does
smell so good. I sigh as he touches me, very, very gently.
“There’s a good size bump.” His face is scrunched together
in concentration. He has my head in both of his hands. He rubs the matching
spot on the other side to compare the two. “You really need to get checked out.
I’ve had my share of head injures. Football.”
“Oh, I feel all right. Maybe a little dizzy and a dull
headache. Had worse skipping coffee.” I chuckle.
“Well, as soon as the police get here, I think you should go
to the hospital. Have someone take a look at you.” He’s so serious. I nod in
agreement and wish his hands were still touching me.
Reluctantly, I move back into my seat away from him. It’s
feeling colder now that I’m closer to the glass window. A slight shiver moves
through me as I rub my hands over my tights-covered legs.
"Here, let me turn on the seat warmers.”
"That would be great. Thanks.” He really is a sweet and
perceptive guy. Best snowstorm ever.
"So you work downtown?" he inquires.
"Yeah, I work for Fifth Third Bank at the State Street
Building. I mostly focus on demographic studies. Target marketing and the like.
Boring stuff."
"I don't work too far from there.” He seems really
interested in me. I feel slightly giddy as he continues. “I'm in the
M&A
department at Sloan and Farthing Partners."
"Oh, an accountant?" I raise my brow. "I had
you pegged as an attorney."
“I’m afraid not. Just a corporate accountant. Nothing sexy,
sorry.” And there’s that wink of his again. He’s beyond adorable and the
sexiest accountant I’ve ever met.
"You must make a lot of money to afford the monthly
payment on this car." After speaking the words, I immediately want to
retract them. What a nosy thing to say but Drew seems rather amused by my
verbal diarrhea.
"Would it help if I told you I got quite the deal on
it?" He laughs while looking amused.
"I'm sorry. It's really none of my business."
"It’s okay. I've always had a thing for expensive
sports cars. When a merger I was working on closed last summer, I used every
penny of my bonus for a big down payment. Probably an impulsive decision, but
I've enjoyed every single mile in this seat."
"I'm enjoying this seat too." And I am enjoying
it, immensely. The view of him decked out in wool and cashmere, the smell of
his cologne, and the feel of fine leather are a dangerous mix to me. I’m not
sure yet, but I have a feeling that I’m going to be in trouble if we stay
huddled in this car too long. My mind is starting to wander and wonder.
What would his lips feel like against mine? Would his
kiss be gentle or passionate? If he started something, would I even want to
stop him?
Probably not.
But I've lived "no boys allowed" since The Cheater
got caught, well, cheating. And I’ve often hoped some plague would descend on
him or his most prized part. But this guy, Drew Michaels, was the complete
package. Handsome, sweet as honey, and obviously successful. I pray he’s
straight because guys like him are an endangered species in my experience.
A comfortable quiet falls between us and we silently listen
to the traffic reports on the radio. All over Chicago, roads were closing due
to the snow. When a reporter announces that Lake Shore Drive is being shut down
because of a jackknifed bus, we look at each other knowing that we’re in for a
long wait.
"Looks like we're going to be holed-up in here for
awhile," he says, sounding frustrated.
"Probably so. I hope someone can make it through and
move the bus. Otherwise, we're screwing, I mean, screwed. Screwed, yeah, that's
what I meant to say." I want to bury my face in my hands or in his actually.
"Kat, you're funny.” He smiles at me and I melt a
little more into the seat. “I'm beginning to think you'd keep a guy like me on my
toes. I like that."
"I'd like that too." I feel my face heating up and
probably turning a bright red. "Jeez, I could really use a drink or a
whole bottle right now." My laugh is a nervous giggle.
"Hey, I bought some brandy for my parents. It's in the
backseat."
“Do you think it’s alright for me to have a drink? You know
with my head and all.”
“Probably a little bit to warm you up would be okay.” Once
again I’m treated to his sexy little wink. Who needs brandy to warm them up
when he’s doing that?
He starts leaning my way and reaching behind me. Yes, I am
definitely screwed.
He’s looking straight into my eyes, only inches away from my
face, as he pulls a bag from the back of the car. Sadly, he sits back up and
places it on his lap.
"I bought this for my father.” He points to the bag. “It's
his favorite brandy and came in a set with two matching glasses so we’re
covered."
I watch as he pulls the bag’s contents out. The bottle
contains a rich amber-colored liquid. Brandy, I assume.
"Martel XO Cognac 80 proof. It doesn't get any better.
Here, hold this glass while I pour you three fingers," he instructs.
I focus on two things in his last words he spoke—80 proof
and three fingers. I’m pretty sure that I need to be careful, because the
brandy he’s pouring into my glass smells stronger than any liquor I've ever
smelled.
"Maybe we should work up to
three fingers
. Start slowly." I giggle, inappropriately.
"I think this stuff could put some hairs on my chest and I'm not sure how
I'll explain that to my waxing girl."
Holy crap. My waxing habits seem a little too personal for a
"we just met an hour ago" conversation. However, he appears amused by
my words and keeps pouring the amber liquid into my glass while he chuckles,
most likely at my expense.
"I wouldn't let you drink something that puts hairs on your,
um, chest," he says, and the dirty rascal continues to snicker. "So
you're safe for now with your waxing girl."
"Funny." I scoff and bring the glass up to my nose
for a quick sniff. "I have to confess that I've never tried brandy. Should
I sip it?”
"Never tried brandy, huh?" His eyes twinkle with
amusement. "Place the bottom of the snifter glass in the palm of your
hand. Your body temperature will warm up the brandy."
"Like this?" I ask him after removing my gloves
and tentatively placing the brandy glass in my palm.
"Yes. Now take slow sips and let the brandy flow down
your throat. You should feel a warmth as you swallow."
I follow his instructions, sipping and slowly swallowing. I
watch as he focuses on my lips and then my throat. I’m pretty sure he swallowed
too, though he hadn't drunk anything yet.
After that gulp by Mr. Michaels, I decide to up the ante a
bit. Getting stuck in a snowstorm with a hot guy doesn’t come along every day,
or any day for that matter, so it’s time to seize the moment. Carpe Diem.
With my eyes focusing on his, I take another sip, and run my
brandy-coated tongue over my lips and wink. It’s my turn to pull out the charm.
At least that’s my hope.
He stares at me for a bit and then shakes his head with a
smirk on his lips. I laugh as he removes his scarf, unbuttons the top of his
cashmere coat and loosens his tie. I swear there’s some steam rising from his
collar too.
“What’s the matter, Drew? Getting a little hot?” I purposely
purr my questions. He shrugs his shoulders and I decide to keep pressing him. "Perhaps
you need a little help with that tie.”
I turn toward him and lean in closer as he nods like an
obedient little boy. Perhaps, my tongue and wink combination were a little too
much for him, as he appears slightly stunned.
My fingers work quickly to release the knot in his red, silk
tie. Slowly, I pull on one end while I gaze up at him coyly through my lashes.
Inch by inch, the tie gradually falls away from beneath his collar. He lets out
a soft moan as I collect the fallen end from his lap. Gathering the tie in my
hand, I decide the rearview mirror would be its best resting place.
"Let's leave your tie on the rearview mirror. Who knows,
we might need it later." I pause and realize I might have been to forward.
"Just kidding."
"You're really something else, Kat." His sexy
smile is mixed with a sweet shyness.
“So I’ve been told.” My sarcasm isn’t hidden.
"What did you
think of the brandy? Too strong?"
"It’s different. Maybe an acquired taste?” I swirl the
amber liquor in my glass after taking another sip.
I’m beginning to feel warm now too, so I sit up in my seat,
purposely unbuttoning my coat and wiggle my arms free one at a time. It now hangs
empty at my sides.
"Getting a little hot, too?" he questions, slyly.
"Yes, between the brandy and you, I am." I arch my
brow at him and look around for the other brandy sniffer that he took out of
the gift bag. "But where's your glass? I think you need a drink too,
Mister."