A Glimpse of Fire. Debbi Rawlins
guy’s old school. He thinks everyone should be married and settled by the time they’re thirty. A mark you’ve already bypassed. Besides, didn’t you get the picture after the Christmas party? He didn’t like it that you were the only one flying solo.”
Eric scoffed. “That attitude’s not only ridiculously antiquated, it’s illegal.”
“Tell him that.” Tom’s head swung around after a redheaded jogger in a skintight green tank and running shorts who’d passed them.
“And then there are some guys who just shouldn’t be married.”
“What?” Tom glanced at him and laughed. “Only looking, pal. Only looking. Something you should be doing more of.”
Frankly he didn’t know how Tom did it. Juggle a wife, a successful but demanding career and an active and strategic social life. Of course, Tom’s first putt in life came with a handicap. Prominent Westchester family. Ivy League education. No student loans to repay. A wife with an impressive social pedigree.
Must be nice. Eric wouldn’t know. His background was Pittsburgh blue-collar all the way. Of his entire extended family, he’d been the first to graduate from college and escape a life sweating in the steel mills.
“Seriously, Eric,” he continued, “when was the last time you brought someone to a company function?”
“Why are we discussing this?”
“Tell me when and I’ll drop it.”
“Why would I subject a date to one of Webber’s boring parties?” He was about to cross the street when the light turned red. Normally that wouldn’t stop him, except a stretch limo came barreling around the corner from Lexington.
“See? Good reason to get married. Then the girl’s gotta go and be bored.”
“Right.”
Tom elbowed him. “Check out the blonde at three o’clock. The one in the red stiletto heels.”
Eric casually glanced in that direction. “Not bad.”
“Not bad? Are you nuts? That one could put you in intensive care for a month.”
Eric started to cross the street as soon as the light changed. Two cabs ran the red light and honked at the pedestrians who’d entered the crosswalk. Across the street several other cabs blasted their horns for no apparent reason. You’d never know the city imposed a three-hundred-fifty-dollar fine for unnecessary honking.
They’d barely made it across Fifth Avenue when Tom started in again. “Okay, I want you to point out your idea of the perfect woman.” He gestured toward the mass of people, mostly women in suits and running shoes, coming toward them. “You have a wide variety right here.”
“What is with you today?”
“Humor me.”
Eric shook his head in disgust, at the same time catching sight of a department store window display, taken aback by the realistic beach scene. Sand, sun, a threatening wave that looked as if it were about to crash over two incredibly lifelike mannequins and then right through the window onto the sidewalk. Computer generated, obviously, but realistic enough to earn some gasps from the crowd of onlookers and send an older couple back several steps.
Remarkable as the special effects were, what caught his attention was the blond mannequin in the red bikini. She looked so damn real. And perfect. Long honey-blond hair, sexy blue eyes, full lips that formed a tempting bow. And man did she have legs….
“Are you listening?” Tom got in his face.
“What?” Eric hadn’t realized he’d stopped. Right in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking everyone’s way. People muttered curses and stepped around him. “No.”
He looked back at the window. At the mannequin. She was amazing. Incredible. Too bad that kind of perfection could only be synthetic.
Tom followed his gaze just as another wave swelled threateningly, and he ducked. Clearly realizing his foolish reaction, he straightened and glanced around. Several other onlookers had done the same.
“Damn, that’s amazing.”
Eric nodded. “Genius. Pure genius. Look at how many people the window’s attracting.”
“No shit. This should earn someone a nice little bonus.”
Eric shook his head. Lately with Tom it was always about money or women. As if he needed to worry about either. “Let’s go.”
“Wait. No more changing the subject. You have an assortment of lovelies right here. Blondes, brunettes, redheads.” Ignoring a sharp look he received from a well-dressed older woman who’d obviously overheard, he gestured toward a group staring at the window. “I’m not moving until you choose one.”
Eric shrugged and turned to leave. “I’ll say hey to everyone at Pete’s for you.”
Tom snagged his coat sleeve. “Come on.”
Eric sighed. His gaze went back to the mannequin, to the tiny beauty mark at the corner of her lush mouth. “Her,” he said with a jut of his chin.
“Who?” Tom scanned the group of women close to the window. “Which one?”
“There.” Eric barely contained a smile as he fixed his gaze on the mannequin. “She’s perfect.”
It took Tom a moment for it to register and then he laughed. “Why, because she can’t talk?”
“A big bonus, you have to admit.”
“I’ll give you that.” Tom studied the mannequin. “Great legs, too. I wonder if she’s busy this weekend.”
Eric shook his head and headed across the street. “I’m gonna go have a drink. You do what you want.”
Tom started after him when he heard the crowd gasp. He turned just in time to see the two mannequins throwing their hands up as if frightened by the wave, and then they repositioned themselves, again going perfectly still.
The crowd began murmuring and talking excitedly, loud enough that Eric turned around to see what was happening. Tom took off after him.
“What’s going on?” Eric asked.
“Nothing. Another wave.” Tom shouldered him, urging him to keep walking. “Let’s go before my keeper calls.”
Tom could barely contain himself. This was rich. Totally awesome. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do yet, but the opportunity for something really big was there.
Like Saturday night—the company dinner. God, this was too perfect.
In his excitement, he nearly tripped over his own feet.
All he had to do was keep Eric away from that window for the next two days.
2
TEN MORE MINUTES. FIFTEEN tops, and the store would be closing, judging by the steady stream of shoppers exiting the Fifth Avenue doors. She could do this. Wait fifteen minutes before she sprinted to the bathroom. Dallas simply had to stop thinking about how her bladder was ready to explode.
Even though she’d purposely laid off the coffee and Cokes made available in the dressing room, the knowledge that she was stuck in the window and couldn’t leave was enough to make her desperate for a pit stop. One five-minute break in four hours just didn’t cut it. She and Trudie were going to have a serious discussion tomorrow.
Dallas heard her partner’s stomach growl and used every ounce of self-control to keep a straight face. Steve did an admirable job of remaining impassive himself, and she kept her gaze fixed on the fire hydrant across the street. It was easier that way, to focus on one particular object until the soft beep told them it was time to change positions. Besides, making eye contact with anyone in the crowd outside wasn’t a good idea. Made it much harder