Monte pushed the door closed and watched the taxi peel away from the curb. He stayed where he was, standing until the red taillights blended in with all the other cars headed in the same direction. Finally, he pulled his PDA from his briefcase to call home and headed toward the building’s underground parking lot to retrieve his car. Even as they moved in opposite directions, both Monte’s and Torie’s thoughts remained in an elevator of the Time Warner building. The kiss they’d shared played an equal role in their revelries, as did the quiet admissions made in the dark. They’d reached a level of intimacy with each other that some people were still searching for after several dates and a night full of passionate sex. Each was left with the conclusion that people ought to spend more time trapped alone in elevators.
Chapter 4
The Scent of Roses
On the Monday morning following the blackout, Monte arrived at his office at noon, having spent the morning at the boys’ pediatrician’s office for their annual checkups. He always subconsciously breathed a sigh of relief whenever his boys went to the doctors, as he was no stranger to unexpected illness. Both Joshua and Josiah were progressing as they should and neither one had so much as a bump to complain about. For Monte, that was all the news he needed to have a good day. Little did he know that there was even more ahead to be happy about.
“Morning, Mr. Lewis. Looks like your day is off to a bright start.” His secretary, Margaret, beamed as he leaned over her desk to retrieve his mail.
Perplexed by Margaret’s unusual greeting, Monte’s eyebrows came together in a question mark. Margaret simply smiled and pointed toward the open door of Monte’s office. He moved cautiously toward the office, glancing back at Margaret, who continued watching him with a look reminiscent of a cat that’d eaten a canary.
In the center of Monte’s desk rested a large bouquet of yellow roses. Their scent had already filled the spacious room and their vibrant color seemed to provide more illumination than the florescent lights overhead. Monte was even more mystified as he plucked the small card from the vase. In a delicate, beautiful penmanship, there was a simple message that read, It was a pleasure sharing an extended elevator ride with you. Monte Lewis, you are a lifesaver. Torie T.
Monte looked down at the flowers again and noticed that tied to the large satin yellow-and-white bow in front of the vase was a pack of assorted Mentos. He burst out laughing, his robust voice ringing throughout his office and out into the corridor where Margaret still sat beaming.
“Told you,” she called.
Monte pulled back the leather office chair behind his desk and sat down. He stared at the flowers for several minutes, inhaling their scent. He tore the package of Mentos open and popped one into his mouth, before closing his eyes and taking another deep breath. The memories that he’d spent the entire weekend fighting to suppress came rushing back, heating him up inside. He opened his eyes and read Torie’s card again and again. Her handwriting was as delicate and graceful as she was.
Over the past two days Monte had convinced himself that what had happened in that elevator between he and Torie was a simple case of two people being forced together during a stressful situation. He’d told himself that a woman as electrifying and breathtaking as she had to be a lot more complicated than she’d appeared, and complications were the last thing he needed in his life. He’d spent the past three years focusing on his boys and helping them cope with the loss of their mother. He’d pushed all of his own desires and longings aside, striving to fill the void left by Shawna as best as he could. When his mother’s health had taken a turn for the worse last year, he knew that he’d made the right decision and dedicated himself even more to taking care of his family. Those hours spent with Torie in that elevator had stirred up long-buried feelings and, since then, Monte had managed to push them back down where they belonged. Yet, even as he’d done that, he knew that he was telling himself a lie and had been all along.
Monte was startled from his deep thoughts by a quick rap on the open door to his office. In walked Brent Stolzberg, a colleague, as well as his racquetball partner and friend.
“Monte, my man, what’s cooking?” Brent asked as he walked in.
Brent took at seat in front of Monte’s desk. Motioning to the flowers, he said, “Whoa, what’s this?”
“Man, you wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” Monte replied.
He spent the next few minutes explaining to Brent how he’d been trapped in the elevator with one of the firm’s newest clients last Friday night and how afraid she’d been. He left out the part about the passionate kiss they’d shared and also didn’t mention how she’d been plaguing his thoughts ever since.
“And she sent you flowers to thank you for holding her hand through the ordeal? Wow, classy lady. What’s her name?”
“Torie Turner.”
“Oh, this just gets better and better. The infamous Torie Turner? I’ve heard that she’s a ten on the knockout scale,” Brent said. “All the single guys around here are practically drooling over her…and some of the married ones, for that matter, too.”
“Okay, so we’re rating our clients now? Boy, if that’s not a clear indication that we definitely don’t have enough to do around here, I don’t know what is,” Monte replied.
“Come on, Monte. Don’t tell me you’ve never checked out a client before. Even a monk like you can acknowledge a good-looking woman when you see one,” Brent retorted.
“Whatever. Look, Torie Turner is, indeed, a beautiful woman. Happy?”
“Not yet. Not until you tell me what went on while you two were trapped in that elevator all of that time?”
“Nothing. We talked. I kept reassuring her that everything would be okay. Eventually, we got out, I hailed a taxi for her and that’s it.”
“Yeah, right. And that’s why she sent you this hundred-dollar bouquet of roses? Get real, Monte.”
“I’m serious, that’s it. I don’t know what you want me to say, Brent.”
“I want you to say that you’re going to call Ms. Turner, thank her for the flowers and then ask her out to dinner or a show.”
“Why on earth would I do that?”
“Are you serious? Monte, there are about a million reasons why you should do that, starting with the fact that you haven’t been out on what qualifies as a date in years and ending with the fact that Torie Turner is a beautiful woman who appears to be interested in you.”
“Interested in me? What? No, you’re reading this all wrong,” Monte said nervously. He paused for a minute, glancing at the flowers. “What makes you think she’s interested in me?”
“Duh! Jeez, Monte, has it been that long? Let me school you, my naive friend. Women don’t send flowers to men just because,” Brent answered.
“The flowers are a thank-you for keeping her calm in the elevator. That’s all.”
“I’m sure she said thank-you when you got out of the elevator. Those flowers are about ten percent thank-you and ninety percent I want to get to know you better,” Brent said.
Monte thought about Brent’s words, considering their undeniable merit. She had said thank-you, repeatedly. There was no real need for her to send the flowers, unless she was interested. But, on the other hand, maybe that was just the type of person she was—gracious and overly demonstrative. Either way, Monte reasoned, he had already made up his mind.
“You know what, Brent? It really doesn’t matter why she sent the flowers. I’m not interested in dating Torie Turner,” Monte said definitively.
“Why not?”
“Why not?”
“Is there an echo in here? Why not?” Brent asked again.
“Because—”