who could see beyond the Homeless label.
The piano player who started his first set in the front of the restaurant didn’t begin to distract her from the pull she felt toward Vincent Girard. Turning him down would have been like pushing water uphill, and she didn’t think she could muster the will.
Especially as she became aware of his knee brushing hers under the table. An electric spark jumped from that point of contact to warm her skin all over.
“Thank you.” Suddenly shy about whatever was happening between them, she folded her napkin over her clean knife, wrapping the silverware in the linen. “It wasn’t easy. And it left scars.” Her eyes went to his, gauging his reaction, but as always, he looked at her with respect. Warmth. Friendship. She took a deep breath before she continued. “But I’m really proud that I found a new life for myself.”
His hand covered hers, his thumb reaching around to the underside of her palm and stroking her there, right where he’d kissed her earlier. The effect was dizzying, making her light-headed. Partly because she liked the way it felt. But she was also a little giddy from the fact that it seemed normal. Safe and exciting at the same time.
How did he do that?
“I hope one day you’ll trust me enough to tell me how you did it.” He circled that place on her palm, as if he was enjoying the memory of the kiss as much as she was. “But for now, I’m just hoping you’ll have dinner with me again soon. Not tomorrow because of the game. But maybe when we get back to Philly the next day.”
She had twenty other Phantom players on speed dial in case she freaked out and needed a bodyguard. But she already knew she wouldn’t. Not with Vincent. The insistent thump of her heartbeat in her chest and the tingle in her skin told her that she would be looking forward to seeing Vinny alone again.
So much so that she did something completely amazing and squeezed his hand back.
“I’d really like that.”
* * *
J ENNIFER SERIOUSLY HOPED the morning never arrived.
She lay tucked against Axel on top of the plush hotel bed, the white duvet soft against the outside of her thigh while Axel’s leg was warm and raspy against the inside. Her cheek fit perfectly just beneath his heart and she heard it thump steadily in one ear. The TV still glowed blue with a campy horror flick in the background, all the scariest bits removed for a more sensitive audience, apparently.
“I love watching movies with the sound off,” she said, always happy to talk about film. Besides, she wasn’t ready to talk about anything substantial with Ax yet.
The time would come soon enough when they’d have to face the ticking clock on a relationship with an end already in sight when she went back to New York.
“Why?” He brushed her hair off her temple, his big, broad palm so gentle it gave her goose bumps.
“As a filmmaker, I see the images better that way. I can think more about the visuals and the camera angles when I’m not distracted by the story.” She pointed to the screen where the antagonist—a mutant zombie killing everyone in the local high school—stood on top of a bridge and glared down at his next meal. “Like right there? They shot that from below the zombie to emphasize his power and her helplessness. And you see how big his shadow is behind him?”
“Believe me, I’ve known some people who cast a big shadow, people who have a powerful presence. I get what that means.” He brushed a kiss on the top of her hair where he lay with his head propped on a pillow. “But I wouldn’t have thought about it if you hadn’t pointed it out. You must really enjoy your job.”
“I feel fortunate to do work I love every day. It’s even better when, at the same time, I can make the art meaningful.” She traced a thick rope of scar tissue on his arm and wondered where he’d gotten it.
“I’m anxious to find out how you’re going to make the hockey documentary meaningful. But tell
The piano player who started his first set in the front of the restaurant didn’t begin to distract her from the pull she felt toward Vincent Girard. Turning him down would have been like pushing water uphill, and she didn’t think she could muster the will.
Especially as she became aware of his knee brushing hers under the table. An electric spark jumped from that point of contact to warm her skin all over.
“Thank you.” Suddenly shy about whatever was happening between them, she folded her napkin over her clean knife, wrapping the silverware in the linen. “It wasn’t easy. And it left scars.” Her eyes went to his, gauging his reaction, but as always, he looked at her with respect. Warmth. Friendship. She took a deep breath before she continued. “But I’m really proud that I found a new life for myself.”
His hand covered hers, his thumb reaching around to the underside of her palm and stroking her there, right where he’d kissed her earlier. The effect was dizzying, making her light-headed. Partly because she liked the way it felt. But she was also a little giddy from the fact that it seemed normal. Safe and exciting at the same time.
How did he do that?
“I hope one day you’ll trust me enough to tell me how you did it.” He circled that place on her palm, as if he was enjoying the memory of the kiss as much as she was. “But for now, I’m just hoping you’ll have dinner with me again soon. Not tomorrow because of the game. But maybe when we get back to Philly the next day.”
She had twenty other Phantom players on speed dial in case she freaked out and needed a bodyguard. But she already knew she wouldn’t. Not with Vincent. The insistent thump of her heartbeat in her chest and the tingle in her skin told her that she would be looking forward to seeing Vinny alone again.
So much so that she did something completely amazing and squeezed his hand back.
“I’d really like that.”
* * *
J ENNIFER SERIOUSLY HOPED the morning never arrived.
She lay tucked against Axel on top of the plush hotel bed, the white duvet soft against the outside of her thigh while Axel’s leg was warm and raspy against the inside. Her cheek fit perfectly just beneath his heart and she heard it thump steadily in one ear. The TV still glowed blue with a campy horror flick in the background, all the scariest bits removed for a more sensitive audience, apparently.
“I love watching movies with the sound off,” she said, always happy to talk about film. Besides, she wasn’t ready to talk about anything substantial with Ax yet.
The time would come soon enough when they’d have to face the ticking clock on a relationship with an end already in sight when she went back to New York.
“Why?” He brushed her hair off her temple, his big, broad palm so gentle it gave her goose bumps.
“As a filmmaker, I see the images better that way. I can think more about the visuals and the camera angles when I’m not distracted by the story.” She pointed to the screen where the antagonist—a mutant zombie killing everyone in the local high school—stood on top of a bridge and glared down at his next meal. “Like right there? They shot that from below the zombie to emphasize his power and her helplessness. And you see how big his shadow is behind him?”
“Believe me, I’ve known some people who cast a big shadow, people who have a powerful presence. I get what that means.” He brushed a kiss on the top of her hair where he lay with his head propped on a pillow. “But I wouldn’t have thought about it if you hadn’t pointed it out. You must really enjoy your job.”
“I feel fortunate to do work I love every day. It’s even better when, at the same time, I can make the art meaningful.” She traced a thick rope of scar tissue on his arm and wondered where he’d gotten it.
“I’m anxious to find out how you’re going to make the hockey documentary meaningful. But tell
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