Born in Ice Page 31

  we'll hit the streets."

  "I should buy some souveniers. And there's that toy store, that important one."

  "F.A.O. Schwartz."

  "Aye. They'd have something wonderful for Liam, wouldn't they?"

  "Absolutely. But I was thinking more about Fifth and Forty-Seventh." "What's that?" "I'll take you."

  He barely gave her time to gawk, at the palacelike structure of the hotel itself, at the opulent lobby of the Plaza with its red carpeting and dazzling chandeliers, the spiffy uniforms of the staff, the magnificently ornate floral arrangements, and the glorious little display windows filled with stunning jewels.

  They rode the elevator to the top, and she walked into the sumptuous suite so high up that it had a view of the lush green island of Central Park. He whirled her in, and by the time she'd freshened up from traveling, he was waiting impatiently to whirl her out again.

  "Let's walk. It's the best way to see New York." He took her purse, crossed the strap from her shoulder to her hip. "Carry it like this, with your hand on it. Are those shoes comfortable?" "Yes."

  "Then you're set."

  She was still trying to catch her breath when he pulled her out.

  "It's a great town in the spring," he told her as they began to walk down Fifth.

  "So many people." She watched a woman dash by, legs flashing under short, shimmering silk. And another in baggy red leather with a trio of earrings dangling from her left lobe.

  "You like people."

  She stared at a man marching along, barking orders into a cellular phone. "Yes."

  Gray shifted her out of the path of a zipping bike. "Me, too. Now and then."

  He pointed out things to her, promised her as much time as she wanted in the grand toy store, enjoyed watching her gawk at store windows and the wonderfully varied people who hurried along the streets.

  "I went to Paris once," she told him, smiling at a sidewalk vender who hawked hot dogs. "To see Maggie's show there. I thought then I'd never in my life see anything as grand as that." Laughing, she squeezed his hand hard. "But this is."

  She loved it. The constant and almost violent noise of traffic, the glittering offerings displayed in shop after shop, the people, self-absorbed and rushing away on their own business, and the towering buildings, spearing up everywhere and turning the streets into canyons.

  "Here."

  Brianna stared at the building on the corner, each window dripping with jewels and gems. "Oh, what is it?"

  "It's a bazaar, darling." Zooming on the excitement of just being there with her, he yanked open the door. "A carnival."

  The air inside was alive with voices. Shoppers bumped along the aisles, peering into display cases. She saw diamonds, ring after ring flashing through glass. Colored stones like rainbows, the seductive gleam of gold.

  "Oh, what a place." She was pleased to wander along the aisle with him. It seemed otherworldly, all the sellers and buyers haggling over the price of ruby necklaces and sapphire rings. What a story she'd have to tell when she got back to Clare.

  She stopped with Gray by a display case and chuckled. "I doubt very much I'll find my souveniers in here."

  "I will. Pearls, I think." He wagged a finger at the saleswoman to hold her off and studied the wares himself. "Pearls would suit."

  "Are you buying a gift?"

  "Exactly. This one." He gestured to the clerk. He'd already had an image in his mind, and the three strands of milky pearls fit it perfectly.

  He listened with half an ear as the clerk touted the beauty and worth of the necklace. Traditional, she said, simple and elegant. An heirloom. And, of course, a bargain.

  Gray took the necklace himself, tested the weight, studied the glowing orbs. "What do you think, Brianna?"

  "It's stunning."

  "Of course it is," the clerk said, sensing a sale rather than a browse. "You won't find another to compare with it, certainly not at this price. A classic look like this, you can wear with anything, evening dress, day wear. A little cashmere sweater, silk blouse. Simple little black dress."

  "Black wouldn't suit her," Gray said, looking at Brianna. "Midnight blue, pastels, moss green maybe."

  Brianna stomach began to jitter as the clerk picked up the theme. "You know you're right. With her coloring, you want jewel tones or pastels. Not every woman can wear both. Try it on. You'll see for yourself how beautifully they drape."

  "Gray, no." Brianna took a step back, bumped solidly into another shopper. "You can't. It's ridiculous."

  "Dearie," the clerk broke in. "When a man wants to buy you a necklace like this, it's ridiculous to quibble. At forty percent off retail, too."

  "Oh, I think you can do better than that," Gray said offhandedly. It wasn't the money, he'd hardly glanced at the tiny ticket tagged discreetly to the pave diamond clasp. It was the sport. "Let's see how they look."

  Brianna stood, her eyes filled with distress, as Gray fastened the necklace around her. It lay like a miracle against her plain cotton blouse. "You can't buy me something like this." She refused, however much her fingers itched, to reach up and stroke the pearls.

  "Sure I can." He leaned over, gave her a casual kiss. "Let me enjoy myself." Straightening, he studied her through narrowed eyes. "I think it's pretty much what I'm looking for." He shot the clerk a look. "Do better."

  "Dearie, I'm practically giving it away now. Those pearls are perfectly matched, you know."

  "Mmm-hmm." He turned the little tabletop mirror toward Brianna. "Take a look," he suggested. "Live with them for a minute. Let me see that pin there, the diamond heart."

  "Oh, that's a nice piece. You've got a good eye." Revved, the clerk reached for it, lay it on the counter on a black velvet pad. "Twenty-four brilliant cut stones. Top quality."

  "Pretty. Brie, don't you think Maggie would like it? A new mom present."

  "Ah." She was having a hard time keeping her mouth from hanging open. First the sight of herself in the mirror with pearls around her neck, then the idea that Gray would buy diamonds for her sister. "She'd adore it, how couldn't she? But you can't-"

  "What kind of deal are you going to make me for both?"

  "Well..." the clerk drummed her fingers on her breast. As if pained, she picked up a calculator and started running figures. She wrote an amount on a pad that had Brianna's heart stopping.

  "Gray, please."

  He just waved her to silence. "I think you can do better than that."

  "You're killing me here," the woman said.

  "See if you can stand a little more pain."

  She grumbled, muttering about profit margins and the quality of her merchandise. But she juggled figures, sliced a bit, then patted a hand over her heart. "I'm cutting my own throat."

  Gray winked at her, took out his wallet. "Box them up. Send them to the Plaza."

  "Gray, no."

  "Sorry." He unclasped the pearls, handed them negligently to the delighted clerk. "You'll have them by tonight. It's not smart to walk around with them."

  "That's not what I mean, and you know it."

  "You have such a lovely voice," the clerk said to distract her. "Are you Irish?"

  "I am, yes. You see-"

  "It's her first trip to the States. I want her to have something special to remember it by." He took Brianna's hand, kissing her fingers in a way that made even the clerk's cynical heart sigh, "I want that very much."

  "You don't have to buy me things."

  "That's part of the beauty of it. You never ask."

  "And what part of Ireland are you from, dearie?"

  "County Clare," Brianna murmured, knowing she'd lost again. "It's in the west."

  "I'm sure it's lovely. And you're going to..." After taking Gray's credit card, the clerk read the name and yelped. "Grayson Thane. God, I read all your books. I'm your biggest fan. Wait until I tell my husband. He's your biggest fan, too. We're going to see your movie next week. Can't wait. Can I have your autograph? Milt's just not going to believe it."
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  "Sure." He took the pad she shoved at him. "This you, Marcia?" He tapped the business card displayed on the counter.

  "That's me. Do you live in New York? It never says where on the back of your books."

  "No, I don't." He smiled at her, handing her back the pad to distract her from asking more questions.

  " To Marcia,' " she read, " 'a gem among gems. Fondly, Grayson Thane.' " She beamed at him now, but not so brightly she forgot to have him sign the credit slip. "You come back any time you're looking for something special. And don't you worry, Mr. Thane. I'll have these sent out to your hotel right away. You enjoy your necklace, dearie. And you enjoy New York."

  "Thanks, Marcia. Give my best to Milt." Pleased with himself, he turned back to Brianna. "Want to look around some more?"

  Numb, she merely shook her head. "Why do you do that?" she managed when they were on the street again. "How do you make it impossible to say no when I mean no."

  "You're welcome," he said lightly. "Are you hungry? I'm hungry. Let's get a hot dog."

  "Gray." She stopped him. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever had," she said solemnly. "And so are you."

  "Good." He grabbed her hand and led her to the next corner, calculating that he'd softened her up enough so that she'd let him buy her the perfect dress for the premiere.

  She argued. She lost. To balance things out Gray backed off when she insisted on paying for her trinkets for Ireland herself. He amused himself helping her figure her change with the unfamiliar American money she'd gotten at the airport bank. It fascinated him that she seemed more dazzled by the toy store than by the jewelry or dress shops they'd visited. And when inspiration hit, he discovered her even more enthralled with a kitchen specialty store.

  Delighted with her, he carted her bags and boxes back to the hotel, then charmed her into bed, spinning out time with long, luxurious lovemaking.

  He wined and dined her at Le Cirque, then in a rush of nostalgic romanticism, took her dancing at the Rainbow Room, enjoying as much as she the out-of-time decor and big band sound.

  Then he loved her again, until she slept exhausted beside him, and he lay wakeful.

  He lay wakeful a long time, smelling the roses he'd given her, stroking the silk of her hair, listening to her quiet, even breathing.

  Somewhere during that twilight time of half sleep, he thought of how many hotels he'd slept in alone. How many mornings he'd awakened alone, with only the people he created inside his head for company.

  He thought of how he preferred it that way. He always had. And how, with her curled beside him, he wasn't quite able to recapture that sensation of solitary contentment.

  Surely he would again, when their time was up. Even half dreaming he warned himself not to dwell on tomorrow, and certainly not on yesterday.

  Today was where he lived. And today was very nearly perfect.

  Chapter Sixteen

  By the following afternoon Brianna was still dazzled enough with New York to try to look everywhere at once. She didn't care if she appeared so obviously the tourist, snapping pictures with her camera, staring up, her neck craned back, to see the very top of the spearing buildings. If she gawked, what of it? New York was a noisy and elaborate sideshow designed to stun the senses.

  She pored over the guidebook in their suite, making careful lists and dutifully crossing off each sight she'd seen.

  Now she had to face the prospect of a business lunch with Gray's agent.

  "Arlene's terrific," Gray assured Brianna as he hustled her along the street. "You'll like her."

  "But this lunch." Though she slowed her pace, he didn't allow her to hang back as she would have preferred. "It's

  like a business meeting. I should wait for you somewhere, or perhaps join you when you've finished. I could go to Saint Patrick's now, and-"