Beneath the Surface Read Online Free Page B

she swayed dangerously.
    “You all right?” Rick smiled and placed one strong hand on her arm to steady her.
    “Fine.” She nodded and lied.
    In the bathroom she managed to not fall into the toilet. She even get her pants zipped and buttoned and put on lipstick without going out of the lines, but it all seemed harder than it should have been.
    Beth planted each foot precisely in front of the other in an attempt to look natural and sober as she made her way very slowly and carefully back to Rick at the bar. He took one look at her and smiled again. He had a beautiful smile.
    “I think I should take you somewhere and get you something solid to eat.” He ran one hand lightly down her arm and she felt a tingle run up her spine.
    She nodded. “All right.” That was probably a good idea. In fact, she had a sudden craving for pizza…as well as a few other things that only Rick could supply.
    He glanced quickly at their bill, threw cash on the bar and stood. “Ready to go somewhere else? Unless you want to stop and look at your brick again first.”
    She frowned for a second, not understanding, then remembered the cracked ceiling tile. The realization that she had actually forgotten about work for even a moment stopped her dead in her tracks. That hadn’t happened in…ever. But now that he mentioned it, she could take a peek at the readings on the motion detector.
    No. She wouldn’t let work interfere with her personal life anymore. Especially not now that it looked like she might actually have the beginnings of some sort of social life. Beth smiled. “No, I’m good. The Whispering Gallery will live without me until tomorrow morning.”
    “Whispering Gallery?” He frowned.
    Thinking that impressing a hot guy with her knowledge was not really work, she pulled his hand and led him out of the restaurant and into one corner of what was known to only serious aficionados of Grand Central trivia as the Whispering Gallery. “You stay right here and listen closely.”
    Feeling giddy, she turned and ran under the vaulted ceiling to the opposite corner. Glancing back to make sure he was still where she put him, she turned to face the corner and whispered, “Want to come home with me tonight?”
    When drunk, things that sound so good in your head don’t always seem wise once hanging out there in midair. Not that she was really drunk, not that she got really drunk often enough to be familiar with how it felt. But she was definitely feeling loose and freer than usual, enough so that for once she did exactly what she wanted and didn’t let her common sense talk her out of it.
    But now she had to deal with the consequences of acting on a whim. She truly hoped her common sense would not have cause to come back and say I told you so . Beth turned slowly and watched as Rick spun to face her. Then he smiled and was next to her in seconds. “That is quite the little party trick you have there. How does it work?”
    How does it work? Those were not the four words she had been hoping for. Yes, I’d love to or please, lead the way —those would have been far better responses to her question. She retreated to more comfortable territory, lecture mode. “Um, it’s the acoustics of the low ceramic arches. The sound travels along the curvature in the vaulted ceiling. It’s called telegraphing.”
    While she felt the distinct urge to crawl under one of those ceiling tiles, he listened to her explanation. “So, does it work in both directions?”
    She nodded, vowing that this would be the last time she would drink wine on an empty stomach and ask a man to come home with her.
    “Stay here.” He planted her firmly back in the corner. Across the space he faced the corner like she had. “I want nothing more than to come home with you.”
    She heard his voice, soft and so close it was as if he were standing right next to her.
    Turning, she smiled when she found him back beside her again, stroking her arms through the thin sweater gently