"What is your deal, anyway?"
Those were the first words that Brad said to me when I met him. I suppose it was because he made a living out of being able to read people but he hadn't been able to.
I had known him for almost four months at that time but our "relationship," if that was the word for it, had been limited to phone calls, e-mails, and the occasional meeting/conference. I mean, the internet does provide a small measure of anonymity and one can only see what is given.
I discovered, early on, that he possessed the kind of dry humor that appealed to me. The first time that I saw him laugh, part of me began to pray that he wasn't in a relationship. I was relatively new to the world of being single, having just divorced my husband of nearly twenty years, and was a bit of a chicken when it came to making it known that I liked someone. I truly had yet to find my footing in that arena of my life.
We both worked for the same company, contracted to the government, albeit at different ends of the country. He was born and raised in San Diego and had never left the west coast before coming to Washington. A new contract would bring us together, his "street" experience and my technical know-how seemed to have made for a very good business relationship.
I was relatively new to the DC area myself, moving to the region from Tennessee only eight months previously so our unfamiliarity would have been another thing that drew us together. However, after four months, scarcely a word was said to each other that wasn't business related.
That would change when we were sent with a group to North Carolina to investigate a claim. I'd be lying if I didn't say that as I sat on the plane to Raleigh-Durham International that I was hoping we would become better acquainted with each other. Unfortunately, as fate had it, he sat four rows in back of me.
I did look behind me a few times to steal a glance at him. On one occasion, his blue eyes met mine. His short, curly auburn hair was perfectly trimmed and the faintest shadow of hair on his face gave him a very Gerard Butler-bad boy look that I am sure any woman would find desirable. His half-smirked smile was one of his most alluring features, carrying with it a hint of mischief that only added to the allure.
Trying to play it cool, I slid my hair behind my ear, returned his smile, and turned around slowly before exploding into barely audible schoolgirl giggles as I raised my book up to begin reading.
We'd arrived at the airport and dropped our bags off at our hotel to freshen ourselves up before meeting at a coffee shop that we had been asked to come to in order to meet our local "contact" around noon.
I saw Brad through the coffee shop window, talking into his cell phone, as I walked in. He had not purchased anything yet and thought if I bought his coffee that it would be a great icebreaker. I walked up to the counter and purchased two coffees before walking to where he was sitting and I waited patiently as he continued his phone call.
While I spent the first minute or so trying to think of a witty opening line, I became distracted by the t-shirt he wore. His choice of clothing was very casual but that damned t-shirt was dark grey, very fitted, and accentuated his chest's features well. It was obvious that he worked out and was in shape.
I noticed that his conversation had become quite tense before he realized I was standing within reach of his voice. He hung up and looked at me with a look of both annoyance and mild frustration. "Yes?" he asked.
"Uh," I stammered, not prepared for this response to my presence, "I bought you a coffee."
He stared into my eyes as he stood up and took both cups from my hands, his right hand brushed mine very slightly, not that he noticed. I certainly did. As he stood, I smelled him. It was a combination of Irish Spring and Drakkar, both of which drove me crazy for some reason.
He proceeded to set the cups down and pulled out the chair for me. As I sat down, I looked in his direction trying to catch a glimpse of those gorgeous blue eyes.
His mouth curved and broadened into a smile as he took his seat. He shook his head and apologized to me. I knew him well enough to know that he was troubled and as I asked him what was wrong, I was not prepared for his answer.
"My daughter misses me," he spoke thoughtfully before pausing for a second.
My heart jumped into my throat and sank instantly. Of course, he's married. He also has a daughter. Just as disappointment began to set in, he continued.
"Her mother won't let her come to visit when I get back to DC." he growled, "She's playing hardball, playing with my emotions unless I agree to get back together with her."
"So you're divorced?" I nodded in acceptance of what he was saying, hoping that I was coming to the right conclusion.
"Not nearly," he joked, "Never married. We were together for seven years, through college and my three years in the NFL but she accepted my proposal. After my daughter was born, we stayed together for her."
"I see." my lips pursed. The NFL? Interesting. That explains his physique and intimidating mannerisms. Even his dry, sarcastic, locker-room humor.
"I got into law enforcement and she didn't agree with my decision. After all, it's quite a drop in pay from pro football."
I smiled and met his gaze, "I can certainly understand."
I deduced that upon his leaving the NFL, they separated and I was correct in that but was surprised to learn that he moved up the "ladder" quickly, applying for several state government jobs before landing one with the feds.
Briefly, I contemplated what to do next. How do I appear supportive but like I was coming onto the guy? Finally, I lifted one hand to cover the one he had placed on the table. He looked down at the simple gesture and smiled.
His fingers were long and very strong. Definitely a man's hand. I could also feel through the calluses that he did a lot of work with them. I felt my cheeks redden as I wondered how they would feel brushing across my nipples.
His hand took mine, clasping it, taking my support. "Thank you, Angelica" he smiled. This time his smile was not half crooked.
The rest of our conversation helped to pass the time and was actually eye-opening. We both divulged a great deal about one another. It helped to make the entire day go by faster and to make it all even better our assignment went well, very easy, with no trace of any wrongdoing.
During our time in Raleigh, Brad and I worked well with one another. That was a considerable compliment given we were practically living together in a small cramped apartment around the corner from where we were investigating.
We kidded and joked, like we were old friends, at work but it was always done with respect and professionalism that did not turn the heads of our co-workers and superiors.
However, as with all things, the good times must come to an end. With the conclusion of the joint venture, his return to San Diego was imminent. I was crushed.
We had a lot of good times together in the few months that we were co-workers. I didn't want the good times to end. On his last night, a going away party was thrown. To say that copious amounts of alcohol were consumed would be an understatement. Oddly enough, neither one of us drank that much.
We spent the night huddled together, teasing the others and making our own commentary on the night's events. As we walked out to his car at the end of the evening's festivities, we did so arm in arm, something that had become quite commonplace for us. He stopped and looked up at the night sky. I looked at him and wondered what captivated him so.