Page 11 of More Than A Boss

“No, that’s the thing. I answered and said hello three times, but all I could hear was heavy breathing, so I just hung up. Of course, it said private caller on the ID.” Frowning, she said, “Can we just change the subject? I’ve got the jitters.” Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she tried to shake off her sense of fear.

“Look, Allie, I need to know if anything like this happens now or in the future. Remember, and I’m not trying to frighten you, we are working on a big case with some very bad men. I’m sure this call is unrelated, but I would feel a whole lot better if I knew you were keeping me informed about any threats, whether real or imagined.” He walked over to her and gave her a brief, platonic hug and ruffled her hair, which had worked free of its elastic band a long time ago. “Promise me?” he asked softly, rubbing his thumb over her cheek not quite so platonically.

“I promise.” She looked up at him through her long, dark lashes.

He fought the urge to pull her into his arms and put his lips to her hair. His voice gruff, he said “God, Allie, the thought of anyone threatening you makes me feel a little crazy. Please be careful and stay safe!”

“Zane, you are scaring me! Please it was just one phone call. I will be careful, but can we talk about something else?”

With effort, he changed the subject and opened the fridge, grabbing one of the bottles of wine and twisting off the cap. “I don’t know about you, but a pre-dinner glass of wine is indicated. I think we have earned it. Let’s just settle in tonight, cook together, turn in early, and start working on the case tomorrow morning.” With that, he took two wine glasses from the open shelf and poured a generous amount of sauvignon blanc into each glass.

“You’re the boss.” She gratefully accepted the wine and moved over to the couch, sitting down and curling her feet beneath her.

Zane took a seat next to her on the couch. “So, tell me more stories about your family, your horse, your life. What is your favorite color? What is your favorite movie?” he asked.

“Whoa!” she laughed. Suddenly, her gaze softened, and she whispered, “Thank you, Zane. I know you are trying to make me feel better and it is working. One of my favorite movies is The Milagro Beanfield War. It was filmed in New Mexico in places that are dear to my heart. Favorite color depends on my mood. How about you?”

“Film: The Wrestler. Very powerful movie! Stayed with me for days. Color: blue,” he said.

Glancing at her watch, she realized lunch had been hours ago. “Are you hungry yet?”

“Is that all you think about, ‘Skinny’?” he teased, referring to the waitress’s observation earlier in the day.

“Only when my stomach is growling so loud, I can’t hear my own voice.” She said laughing. “What did you have in mind for dinner tonight?” she asked.

“I was thinking about making a fresh basil pesto and tossing it with the bow-tie pasta and the pine nuts we purchased today. I’ll fire up the grill and throw those chicken breasts on as well. First, we can coat them with a poultry dry rub, and they can rest while we prepare everything else. I can toss a salad as well. How does that sound to you?”

“Perfect!” she tried to sound enthused but was still fighting that jittery feeling. Fake it till you make it, she thought, smiling as she rose from the couch to begin to help with the food preparation. “I’ll start chopping the garlic,” she volunteered.

“Just peel it, the food processor will do the rest. And Allie,” she turned toward him, “It will be OK. I will not let anything happen to you.” And, just like that, her fear disappeared because she believed him.

“But first, a little atmosphere,” he said. “Van Morrison or Etta James? Your call,” he tossed over his shoulder as he walked toward the living room.

“I love them both!” she said approvingly. “How about we start with Etta James while we are cooking, then Van Morrison later.”

Bending over a shelf, he studied his extensive album collection until he found what he was looking for.

“Here it is,” he smiled with satisfaction. Taking the vinyl disc out of its sleeve, he lifted the cover off his turntable, pulled up the stylus so he could place his selection on the platter, then carefully placed the needle on the spinning record. Suddenly, Etta James’ smooth, unmistakable voice filled the room. The sound system was obviously top of the line. She had never heard such great sound that wasn’t live.

“Wow, I’m impressed! You are full of surprises. My parents were big fans of jazz and blues. I used to watch my dad whisk my mom around the kitchen floor to Nancy Wilson and Etta James tunes. It was so romantic, and I always dreamed that one day I would have a love as great as theirs. You know, they never lost the romance. Even when my dad was dying, they still looked at each other like newlyweds.” Her eyes moistened as she felt a moment of nostalgia and longing for those days.

Not wanting to put a damper on the evening, she quickly followed with, “And a turntable? I mean wow, really? In a funny way you are ahead of your time,” she laughed, her back still to him peeling the garlic. “Records are making a comeback in a big way! So, it’s old fashioned but actually cutting edge all at the same time. How hip is that?” she teased.

“I know, I’m a bit of a music geek, but I never got rid of my albums, and I never thought the music sounded as good on a CD player. It just wasn’t the same. So, here we are going full circle again!” He walked back to the kitchen toward Allie.

Coming up beside her, he took the knife out of her hand, set his wine on the counter, and said, “Come here you. We can’t possibly let Etta’s song play on without a dance.” He looked down at her surprised expression and pulled her close into his arms, gently swaying to “At Last.” At first, Allie tensed up, but finally she gave in to the music and the moment. She could worry about the rest later. Resting her head on his broad shoulder, she released her held breath and let herself be carried away. The feel of his body pressed against the length of her own was intoxicating and sensual, her nerve endings were tingling.

He sang some of the words quietly as he expertly guided her around the dining room floor. He crooned softly about blue skies and clover. As he picked up steam, he began to sing full-on, twirling her around, her back arched as he lowered her toward the floor. Her full breasts looked ready to burst from the confines of her clothing. She began to laugh out loud with sheer joy. Continuing, now that he knew he had a captive audience, he began to ham it up a little more, singing about smiles and casting spells as he dipped and twirled her, finally claiming that she was his at last, with one last deep dip. By this time, she was laughing so hard that her belly hurt.

The song ended, and Allie exclaimed, “Oh, Zane, I haven’t laughed that hard in I can’t remember when! I love this lighter side of you. Thank you for that! You are a polished dancer and you don’t sing half bad either. Is there anything you can’t do?” she teased.

By this time, the upbeat song “Something’s Got a Hold of Me” was on. Without answering, eyes twinkling with mischief, he started dancing again in an exaggerated way, still holding on to her hand while doing the twist, winding almost all the way to the ground and back up again.

“Stop! I can’t take anymore. My belly hurts!” she exclaimed, as she wiped the tears from her eyes. He lifted her up off the ground in a bear hug and swung her around in a complete circle before carefully placing her feet on the floor.

Suddenly, like a switch had been flipped, they became aware of the electricity surging between them. He raised her hand to his lips, turned her palm facing up, and gently kissed the soft skin on the inside of her wrist. He worked his way to the flesh of her palm, which sent shivers up Allie’s spine. He studied the hand he held, so small and delicate in contrast to his own. Raising his head, his eyes met hers, smoldering with desire. Rather than releasing her hand, he led her back to the kitchen counter, picked up the knife, wrapped her long, slender fingers around the handle, and returned to his wine.

Over dinner, they chatted about their childhoods, the pets they had growing up, their friends and family, all safe subjects that wouldn’t get Allie into trouble again, she thought. They discovered that they had quite a bit in common. Their love of music and the outdoors, hiking, cycling, good films, especially the classics. They both thought they were somewhat of a throwback of a bygone era and were OK with that. They both liked to cook and enjoyed good food.

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