NYC Angels: The Wallflower's Secret

“I live about a half a mile from here. Would you like to walk or should I call for a taxi?”

“Walking would be nice. I’d like to see where you grew up.”

As they strolled hand in hand Ryan spoke to a shop owner, introduced her to a former high school teacher and her husband. Others waved or called out to him. It was a community proud of their home-grown boy done well.

“You love living here, don’t you?”

“What’s not to love? And I’ve known nothing else.”

“Never thought of moving on up? The super-neurosurgeon who outgrew his roots?”

“No, here suits me just fine.”

And it did. What was it like to be that secure in those around you that you knew you belonged?

They walked down a small hill that had a line of new-looking condos that had not been constructed to look so modern that they didn’t blend with the rest of the buildings along the waterfront. At the one closest to the East River, Ryan stopped in front of a door stained a dark color. He fished in his pocket and pulled out keys.

“You live here?” Lucy made no effort to hide her amazement. “What a beautiful spot.” Across the East River was Lower Manhattan with all its enormous buildings, including those around Wall Street.

“Come on in,” Ryan said as he opened the door. “Our Chinese should be here soon. We’ll eat out on the deck.”

He led her straight through the living room, stopping long enough to flip on a light in the kitchen before they went out a glass door to a deck. It ran the length of the condo out the back and had a privacy fence separating him from his neighbor. There was a small table with two chairs and an oversized and wide lounge that faced the city.

“I think we timed it just right for dinner and a show.”

She put her hands on her hips and gave him a skeptical look. “So you’re sticking with that story?”

“I am.”

“We eat and then the light show begins.”

The doorbell buzzed. “That will be our supper.”

While Ryan was gone, Lucy looked across the river, watching the shadows begin to fall across the buildings and the orange of the western sky become the backdrop. Ryan had a lovely place to live.

He returned with two paper bags filled with wonderful-smelling food. “I thought we’d have a picnic. Eat out of the boxes. Share.” Going back inside, he brought out two glasses and a bottle of wine. With minimal effort he opened the bottle and poured them both drinks. He then pulled boxes and other items out of the sacks and placed them on the table. “Have a seat.”

She pulled out a chair and sat. “Is there a fork?”

“Fork! There are no forks with Chinese food.” He grinned at her as he picked up chopsticks covered in paper and handed them to her with a flair of a magician. “Have any experience?”

“A little.”

“I’ll help you.” He opened a box of rice, pushed it toward her and opened another for himself. A larger container with chicken and broccoli he placed between them. He stripped the paper off the chopsticks and manipulated them like a pro between his lean fingers. She shouldn’t have been surprised. The dexterity he used to do delicate brain surgery would lend itself to using chopsticks to eat.

She followed suit with the chopsticks but her ability was much more hit and miss than his. Ryan laughed when she must have looked like a snapping turtle going after a morsel before it fell back into the box.

“You’re going to starve at that rate and I’m going to look like a poor host. Let me help.” He scooted closer and offered her a bite on the end of his chopsticks.

She continued to make efforts of her own while he filled in between them. Over one offering she looked up and found him looking at her intently. It was heady to be the center of his attention. One who loved those he cared about so totally. She could be overwhelmed by his magnetism with little effort on his part.

Ryan looked away, breaking the moment, and dropped his chopsticks into an empty container. He stood and put out his hand. “Come on, we’re going to miss the show.”

She put her palm against his and stood. He led her to the lounger. Letting go of her hand, he settled into the chair and stretched out his long legs. “Join me.” He patted the space next to him.

The lounge should have been large enough for two but with Ryan’s size it seemed far too small. “There’s not enough room for both of us. I’ll just pull a chair over here.”

“I’ll make room.” He scooted over as if he planned to give her plenty of room. “The show’s much better from here.”

She sat alongside him. They touched from shoulder to foot. She pulled her coat closer around her. He picked up a blanket from beside the chair and spread it over their legs. “Lift your head.” She did so and he slid an arm behind her neck, resting his hand on her shoulder. He tucked her closer. “Relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

“No, you’re not. You’re as tight as a guitar string.”

She shifted and found a more comfortable position.

“You know, if you keep that up this may not remain just a light show between friends.”

She stiffened. What had she been thinking to agree to this?

Ryan chuckled. “I’m kidding. I’m not going to do anything that you don’t want me to.”

Hadn’t he kept his word so far? The problem was, she wanted him to do plenty. Settling next to him and clasping her hands in her lap, she looked at the horizon. The lights of the city began to flicker on. “Oh, this is amazing. I just saw the lights on the top of the Chrysler Building come on.”

“It’s beautiful.” He fingered the tail of her braid, which was lying against her arm.

“Thanks for sharing this with me. It’s everything you said it was.”

“You’re welcome.”

They continued to watch until the kaleidoscope of colors from the buildings reflected off the water. Could anything be more wonderful than being in Ryan’s arms and watching the sun set to a beautiful light show?

“Wow, this view is something. You must be in demand as a date for this alone.”

“So you think my sex appeal is location-related?” He spoke so close to her ear that his warm breath brushed her skin.

She kept her focus on the lights of the city. “I think you’re fishing for a compliment.”

“Maybe. I thought I told you that I don’t bring people home.”

“By people, do you mean women?”

“Yes. Women. You’re the only woman who has ever shared my view.”

She sat up and twisted around so she could look down at him. “Why?”

His fingers played with the end of her braid, which now fell over one breast. His look met hers. “Because,” he said, his voice low, “you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to share it with.” Wrapping a hand around the mass of hair, he tugged gently, bringing her down to him. His hand cupped her head as he guided her mouth to his. His breath brushed her lips. “I’m going to kiss you. It won’t be a friendly kiss. If you don’t want this, you need to tell me to stop now.”

“The O’Doherty way? A gentleman always.” Her lips touched his.

He pulled her head closer, slanting his mouth and taking the kiss deeper. His tongue found the seam of her lips and demanded entrance. When she didn’t immediately open he pulled back and placed small searching kisses along her bottom lip. He shifted her until she lay along him. Her body followed the contours of his.

Did heaven feel like this?

When the bill of her cap hit him in the forehead she reached up and pulled it off.

He ran his hand down her braid. “I love your hair. You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to touch it.”

She reached to remove the band. What little light there was spilled out from the kitchen.

“No, don’t. I want to be the one who sets it free.” His voice had gone low and gruff, creating tingles inside her.

Gently he removed the band from the end. He drew a finger between the se

ctions of the braid, slowly releasing them as if he were opening a present he’d been eager to see for weeks. His sure, precise movements told of his skill as a surgeon. What she did to her hair every day he turned into a sensual experience.

“I know of no one who has hair as beautiful as yours.” He fanned his fingers out and ran them over her head, finishing the job. The waves fell about her shoulders and flowed around them. Filling his hands, Ryan watched in fascination as it spilled between his fingers. He brought a long lock to his cheek, sliding it across his skin.

His mouth returned to hers and this time when he asked, she opened. His tongue entered, savored, sipped and swirled, while his hands burrowed into her hair to hold her head.

She squirmed.

“Easy, honey. We have all night if you wish.” His tone was low and soothing but the tension in his body and the ridge below her hip said he was just as aroused as she was.