On the Brink (Vol. 1) (The On the Brink Series) by Rhys Erika

Author:Rhys, Erika [Rhys, Erika]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Inman Productions
Published: 2013-10-27T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Filled with work, the next few days flew by. Craig and I arranged to meet at the Brattle at quarter to six Tuesday evening to see North by Northwest.

After my Tuesday class ended, I rushed home, realizing that I hadn’t given any thought to what to wear. After trying and rejecting several combinations as either too casual or overly dressy, I settled on slim charcoal gray wool pants, low heels, and an off-white silk blouse. Rooting through my limited jewelry collection, I selected a chunky, eccentric necklace by an up-and-coming local jewelry designer, and paired it with silver ball stud earrings. The combination of cool silver with warm wood and amber added just the touch of color that I wanted.

As usual, I kept my hair and makeup simple. Hair more or less under control in a loose chignon. Light foundation, subtly smoky eyes, pink lip gloss. Throwing a black three-quarter length trench coat over the ensemble, I inspected myself in the mirror and decided that I looked pretty good. Not bad for an hour’s work.

Time to get going. I grabbed my purse and left the apartment. As I left the front door, I was surprised to see Craig, leaning against a silver Porsche 911 convertible. I wondered how long he had been waiting, and if his unexpected appearance outside my apartment should be categorized as thoughtful or stalker-ish.

He looked fantastic, in gray slacks that hung elegantly from his hips and a white button-down shirt, worn tails out with a couple buttons undone. Loafers and a navy blazer completed his casual, slightly preppy look. A touch of stubble lined his strong jaw.

“Hi Juliana,” he said. “I know we arranged to meet at the theatre, but I took the car for a spin earlier this afternoon, and it occurred to me that you might prefer it to taking the T.”

“No contest,” I replied, admiring both man and car. “But now you’ll have to find parking within a mile of the Brattle. No small challenge, that.”

“I do like a challenge,” he said, opening the passenger door. “But the Charles Hotel garage is safer than street parking. Put on your seat belt. We’ll take the back route so we can drive along the river. Would you prefer the top up?”

I thought of my hair, then of the pleasure of feeling the air rush by. “No need,” I responded, smiling at him. “It’s a warm evening.”

“Good choice.” He put on his own seat belt, started the car, and pulled away from the curb. The Porsche’s powerful engine purred beneath us as he drove, breaking into a full roar when we reached the river and the higher speed limit of Memorial Drive.

We reached Cambridge and Harvard Square far too soon. Craig parked the car in the Charles Hotel garage, and then put the top up. We strolled the couple of blocks to the Brattle, enjoying the colorful atmosphere of the square. We reached the box office, and Craig purchased two tickets. “Where would you like to sit?” he asked.

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