[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
I stepped into the elevator hoping that I d lose service and our conversation would come to an end.
I smiled when the other end went quiet, and I looked at my phone to confirm that the call was
dropped. As I stepped out of the elevator, I walked over to the bar and poured myself a glass of
scotch. Claire emerged from the kitchen with a smile on her face.
Good evening, Connor, I have your dinner warming in the oven should you be staying in tonight.
Thank you, Claire, I ll be staying in tonight. Have a good night, and I ll see you on Monday.
Thank you, have a nice weekend, she smiled.
I nodded my head as I drank my scotch. I held my phone and stared at Ellery s number, debating
whether or not to call her. I wanted to hear her voice, but it was too soon, and I m pretty sure she
wasn t thinking about me. After all, I was kind of a prick to her that night. What the fuck is wrong with
me? Why can t I get this girl out of my head? I brought my laptop into the kitchen and set it on the
table. I grabbed a plate and took the dish Claire had prepared out of the oven. I set it on the table and
opened my laptop. I did the unthinkable; I Googled Ellery Lane . There was a link to an article about
her paintings that she has on display at the Sunset Art Gallery. When I clicked on the link, her picture
came up, and I couldn t help but smile. She was beautiful with her long, blonde, wavy hair and ice
blue eyes. Damn that smile. I started to get aroused as I studied her perfectly shaped lips. I distracted
myself from her picture and read the article on her paintings. I decided that tomorrow morning, I m
going to that art gallery and looking at her work. I had a feeling they would give me more insight
about her. I laid there in bed, thinking about the dinner we had together and gave thought to what Dr.
Peters said in reference to having Ellery as a friend.
The next morning, after I showered and dressed, I went to the kitchen for some coffee. Denny was
already sitting at the table when I walked in.
Morning, Denny, I said. I appreciate you getting here early on a Saturday.
Good morning, Connor. Well, that s what you pay me for, he said with a smile.
I sat at the table across from him as I drank my coffee.
I need to stop by the office first to pick up some papers before heading to the airport, and I want to
swing by the Sunset Art Gallery.
Denny cocked his head to the side, The art gallery? Are you in the market for some new artwork?
He asked.
I guess you can say that, I said as I got up from the table and put my coffee cup in the dishwasher.
Miss Lane is an artist, isn t she? Denny asked me.
She mentioned that she painted pictures, I replied.
They wouldn t happen to be on display at the Sunset Art Gallery, would they?
I sighed. Yes, Denny, her paintings are on display there, and I want to see them.
Are you ok, Connor? he asked.
I m fine, why do you ask?
Ever since you met Miss Lane, you ve seemed different. You hardly go out, and you ve been
moodier than usual. I think she s affected you in some way.
Don t be ridiculous, Denny; Miss Lane has not affected me. I ve just been really busy with work.
The way he was looking at me told me that he knew I was lying. I need to run upstairs and grab my
iPad. I ll meet you in the limo, I said.
With my iPad in hand, I slid into the back seat and checked the stock market. We were stuck in
typical Saturday traffic when Denny asked me something that caught my attention.
Isn t that Miss Lane over there? he pointed to Central Park.
I quickly looked up and saw her entering the park. She was wearing tight skinny jeans and a cream
colored, short-sleeve top. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail that swayed from side to side as she
walked. I noticed she was carrying a large pad of paper. I opened the door amongst the traffic and
told Denny to find a spot to park. I wanted to see what she was up to, but most of all, I wanted to see
her. I kept a great distance behind her, so she couldn t see me if she turned around. I watched her as
she entered the Conservatory Gardens. I had to think of a way to see and talk to her without appearing
like a stalker. Hell, I am a stalker, but only to Ellery Lane. She had made me like this. I stopped
outside the Conservatory Gardens to formulate a plan. What excuse was I going to give for being in
Central Park? I pulled my phone from my pocket and looked at her number. I walked into the gardens
and saw her sitting on a bench with her pad open and pencil in hand. I hit her number and watched her
ignore my call. I lightly smiled because I called her again, and I was going to keep on calling her until
she answered.
Hello? her sweet innocent voice answered.
Hello, Miss Lane, are you enjoying Central Park? I asked.
I watched her turn her head from side to side before looking behind her and seeing me walking
towards her.
I am, Mr. Black, and it looks like you are too, she said with a smile. Damn that smile.
I put the phone in my pocket and sat down next to her on the bench. She looked at me, frowned, and
didn t say a word. She just kept staring at me until I spoke.
What? I asked as I tilted my head.
How did you get my phone number? I don t remember giving it to you.
I have my ways of finding out anything about anybody, Miss Lane, I smirked.
So, you re a stalker then?
I threw my head back and laughed, No, Miss Lane, I m not a stalker. I just wanted your number in
case I needed you to help me home some night. I was even impressed at how quickly I came up with
that one.
How did you know I was here? She curiously asked.
Denny pointed out that he saw you walking down the street, and I asked him to stop.
Why?
I don t know. I guess I just thought I d say hi. Her questions were starting to irritate me, but
turning me on at the same time.
Then you could have just called since you have my number and all, she smirked as she waved her
hand.
Miss Lane, enough with the questions please, I sighed.
Can I ask you one more thing? she innocently asked.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]