Chapter 7: Facing Fears

QUINN'S POV

By the time we'd finished the second exhibit on the 80th floor, I'd almost forgotten we were so far from the ground. We were surrounded by things to see and read and explore. I'd read all about the history of the Empire State Building and the various materials used to construct the building in only thirteen months. For a history fanatic, the exhibit was perfect for me.

And Ford let me take my time. He'd strolled right along beside me, letting me read about every exhibit piece and comment on the original photographs and documents from the 1930s. He'd excused himself to make a phone call a few moments ago, but as he sauntered back toward me, I couldn't help feeling slightly lightheaded.

I didn't know how I'd ended up with the most dashing man in the building. He had an easy and graceful stride, his long legs making quick work of closing the distance between us. He reminded me of Schumann's Piano Concerto -- mysterious, captivating but reserved. He was a masterpiece in his own right.

His deep brown eyes locked onto mine and held me there. His lips curved into a half grin as he neared me and I nearly lost my grip on reality. He stunned me into silence. And when he smiled, the world stopped spinning.

I'd casually noticed other women ogling him while we toured the exhibit floor. They were probably wondering how in the world he could be here with a girl like me. His clothes were tailored to fit him. His suit probably cost more than two months of my old salary.

And I wore jeans, a damp sweater, tennis shoes, and his oversized trench coat that nearly swallowed me whole. I looked like a hobo and he looked like heaven.

"Are you ready to go up to the observation deck?" Ford asked me.

"I'd feel better if Dr. Johanssen were here with another dose of her miracle drugs." I kidded, but my nerves were shot.

"It's only six more floors up. You can do it."

I bit the bullet. I clenched my fists in the pockets of his coat and rode the elevator to the 86th floor observation deck. My feet felt like lead as I contemplated crossing the threshold onto the deck or turning around and running for my life.

I got the distinct impression Ford would chase me down and toss me over his shoulder if I resisted. It didn't really seem people denied him anything. Somehow, in only a few short hours, I too, found myself falling under his strange spell. His presence commanded attention and I found myself desperately needing someone to follow.

But it took everything in me not to bolt. My fears attacked with a fury, crippling me. Patrons bumped into me as I stood still, unable to move my feet any further. Ford leaned down to me, his irresistible scent overpowering me.

"Shall I carry you outside?" he whispered and my stomach clenched. I didn't know if it was the nearness of him or because I was scared s*itless.

"I just need a second."

He nodded and jerked his head to the waiting people behind us, signaling them to walk around. I took a steadying breath, but it only made me feel dizzy. Unexpectedly, I felt him grab my hand and I turned wary eyes to his.

He raised a shoulder, his face cool and composed. "It seemed to help you before."

The warmth of his hand distracted me and seemed to thaw my feet, too. Slowly, I made my way toward the door and onto the concrete deck. The wind whipped around us and I trembled with cold and sneezed for the hundredth time that day.

"Don't look down. Look at the horizon instead," he said. "You won't believe the view from here."

I edged my way to the metal railing, which reached far above my head, and looked out. Ford stood at my back, shielding the wind and still holding my hand. For some reason, he 'did' manage to have somewhat of a calming effect on me. And he was right. The view was spectacular.

The winter fog far below didn't reach us here. Instead, you could see all of New York and beyond. Ford pointed over my shoulder, showing me Central Park, the Hudson River and Times Square. The knots in my stomach were pulling tightly, but I forced myself to focus on the horizon like he'd said.

We walked to the other side of the deck and he pointed out the Brooklyn Bridge way in the distance, strung like rubber bands across toothpicks. The streets were crowded with red taillights and you could easily see the grid of the city, crisscrossing lines, an urban maze of confusion and chaos.

At street level, the buildings seem to engulf you as they towered hundreds of feet above your head. But standing above it all, you felt like a god watching the human pieces of a backgammon game move and slide across a giant game board. The withdrawal of Ford's hand from mine brought me back to reality and I peered up at him.

"You're doing fine," he reassured.

Was I? Because the moment he let go, I felt the waves of nausea return. I backed away from the railing, but Ford gently pushed me forward with his wide chest.

"Remember what I told you. What we think we're afraid of is really a manifestation of something larger. You think you're afraid of heights because you could fall. But the railing is too high and I'm here. I would never let that happen. So, if falling is impossible, what are you really scared of?"

I'd never heard him string as many words together at one time. But I didn't owe him anything -- not explanations, or my life, or anything else. I backed away again from the metal barrier and sidestepped him so he couldn't hedge me in again.

"I'm ready to go. I did what you wanted me to."

"There's another observatory on the 102nd floor."

I balked. "Are you kidding me? The air must be too thin up here and It's clouding your common sense."

I started to walk off, but Ford grabbed my elbow, spinning me around. My eyes narrowed into thin slits.

"Let go," I bit out.

He did immediately and I pivoted around and headed straight for the glass doors and the bank of elevators. I jammed the buttons impatiently, willing the elevator to ascend and take me down to ground level. He caught up with me in seconds.

"It doesn't make it come any faster if you bang on it," he quipped.

I ignored him. Where was the d*mn elevator?

"I apologize if I pushed too hard. I just wanted to help."

I sensed his sincerity. I smoothed my ruffled feathers.

"I know."

"Let's make one more stop to commemorate overcoming your fears and your first visit to New York."

I stared at him oddly as we stepped into the car and rode it down. When we stopped again, we were on the gift shop floor.

"I didn't really conquer my fear."

He exited before me and glanced back over his shoulder. "Didn't you?"

I perused the aisles, fingering the endless rows of keychains and coffee mugs and T-shirts. I spotted Ford on the aisle opposite me, his eyebrows drawn together in thought as he picked up and turned different items over in his hands.

He looked out of place in the middle of a souvenir shop. He was expensive in the midst of everything cliché; he was treasure amongst trash. He was dark and serious in the middle of shiny and playful objects. He was the antithesis of a souvenir shop. He would've been better suited in a five-star restaurant or in a posh country club. Not here and certainly not with me.

He held up a gaudy photo album, its faux leather cover embellished with famous New York landmarks. I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. He put it down and held up a picture frame in the shape of an apple. I laughed aloud and shook my head again. I moved further down the aisle and he shadowed my movements, never losing track of my whereabouts.

"What about this?" he called over the shelf.

He held up a beautiful snow globe. The New York skyline stood proudly inside the globe. He shook it and specks of white floated inside the watery glass. Ford twisted the handle on the silver, metal base and the snow globe began to play 'New York, New York'. I smiled and nodded. I would've picked the exact thing for myself.

I met Ford near the doors when he'd finished paying and he handed me the heavy brown sack. I watched him stuff a smaller brown bag into his coat pocket.

"How about some lunch and then the Statue of Liberty?" he asked me.

I rolled my eyes. "Is it your mission for me to see everything quintessentially New York in one day?"

"As much as you can handle. It's a great city."

I appreciated that he wanted to do anything for me. I wasn't accustomed to people being nice to me and his kindness surprised me.

"I'm in." I held up my parcel. "Thank you for this."

He brushed my gratitude away with a flick of his hand. "Just a keepsake to remember this moment."

"As if I could ever forget this day."

I hesitated as he began to walk off. When he realized I wasn't beside him, he came back in an instant.

"What's wrong?" he asked. I didn't know the crease between his brows could get any deeper.

"I fell off the jungle gym in elementary school," I said in a rush. I didn't know why, but the words were being pulled from my throat. He didn't reply and I continued on. "I think my fear of falling started that day."

"Why? A lot of kids fall on the playground."

I shuffled awkwardly on my feet as the memories came back. "I broke my arm when I fell and never went to the doctor."

"Why not?"

"No one took me. The people I lived with at the time let it heal on its own. They kept me out of school until the bone mended. It never properly healed."

Ire blazed in his eyes. "Who would do that to a child? Why would they do that?"

"They hated me."

Ford's jaw clenched with obvious restraint. I didn't know what thoughts circled around in his head, but he looked like he wanted to punch a wall. He didn't say anything else. He straightened the lapels of my coat, pulling the wool close to my ears. He looked at me then, like he'd seen me for the first time, his dark eyes moving back and forth across mine.

"You like Chinese food?" he finally asked.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "Yes."

"I know a place. Come on."