She relaxed her shoulders and gave him a brief smile, as the boy at the front continued.
“Your long, long tongue and soft sweet lips,
The sexy way you swing those hips,
It’s such a fuckin’—er, pardon me, friggin’—thrill to be
The dude for you, and you for me.”
Upon finishing his poem, the young man ran back to Annika, who was watching him with hero worship in her eyes. “I told you I was gonna do it, babe,” he said, and then kissed her.
After a minute, Eliza elbowed them from her other side. “This a family joint, guys,” she joked as they moved apart.
“The poem sucked, but points to him for getting such a reaction out of her,” Gray said. “She’ll be mooning after him for days now.”
His eyes bore into hers, and she sucked in a breath. The man exuded sensuality.
“You think that’s all it takes? Read a poem and we’ll fall at your feet?”
“We’ll see,” he responded. “But the little Red Hat lady with brownie on her shirt is going next.”
For the next hour, as they listened to everything from Shakespeare to long love poems about various pets, to what Cat could only call spoken rap, she was cognizant of Gray standing right behind her. As people spoke, he’d often whisper commentary into her ear, and the delicious feel of his breath on her neck sent the most delightful sizzles through her body. She was surprised, frankly, by the intensity of her body’s reaction to him. There was no other word for it than lust. Sheer lust. And yet, oddly, she was also grateful for it. She’d felt dead inside for so long, had denied the sexual side of herself forever. Too messy to deal with. But now, it felt as if an undercurrent of electricity was racing between them.
She shifted positions, locking her arms over her belly. She longed to glance back at him, to see if it was all one-sided, this attraction. But she kept her eyes fixed firmly ahead. If she were wrong, she didn’t want to ruin her delusions just yet.
Eliza looked over at her occasionally, once with a raised eyebrow, and once with a wink. She obviously thinks there’s something going on.
A few people had already drifted out and others seemed on the brink of sleep, lulled in part by the warm fire blazing behind the podium and the soft candlelight Eliza had set up around the room, when Grayson walked up to the front. Cat noticed a group of young college women sitting in front of her begin elbowing each other. They tittered back and forth as Grayson spoke.
“I hope you like this one. It’s always been one of my favorites, but lately I seem to be thinking of it more than usual,” he said, his voice soft as he glanced at Cat. “It’s called Première Soirée—The First Evening, by Arthur Rimbaud.”
He began reading, his voice rendered all the more sensual by the fact that the words dripping off his tongue were in French.
He’s reading in French? Cat glanced around. Did anyone understand him? It didn’t seem to matter whether they did or not; one of the Red Hat ladies had begun fanning herself with her hand as Grayson read, and it was clear the other women in the room were falling under his spell, as well. Even Myra had turned to look at Gray with an admiring gleam in her eye. Her husband, noticing, elbowed her.
Cat chuckled to herself as she heard Myra retort, “Turnabout’s fair play, Fred. Now let me enjoy the young man.”
Gray paused, having come to the end of the poem.
“This next one is dedicated to Cat, our fearless bookstore owner, for providing us with the space to meet tonight, and because we seem to like similar imagery,” he said, his voice silky.
The college girls in front of Cat turned and peered at her. Her cheeks burned as she remembered which image she and Grayson had last been discussing together.
As he began to speak, all eyes returned to him.
“‘Dip your fingers into my ink,
Spreading my flesh across your page.
Smooth me, shape me, shade me darkly with your hands.
Take my mouth and paint it raw,
Dripping oil down across your brush.
Feel me rise under your pen,
My skin an extension of your touch.
Make me come alive, color my world, draw me
In to who you are.’”
Cat stood, transfixed. It was as if an electric current were flowing between the two of them. She winced. That’s the kind of corny thing she’d expect Eliza to say.
While Grayson spoke, he kept his eyes, those startling, mesmerizing cerulean eyes, on her, barely glancing down at the words on the page. Several women in the room noticed, assessing her with disappointed looks on their faces. Cat broke eye contact with Grayson to note Eliza was watching her, too, looking back and forth between the two of them. Eliza sat back in her chair, smiling consolingly at Fred, who was looking morose now that Myra and all the rest of the women in the room were focused on the man behind the podium. The Goth girl, Annika, was leaning forward in her seat, as well, much to her boyfriend’s dismay. Not that I blame her.
Cat’s eyes were drawn back toward Grayson’s, pulled as if by a magnet. His eyelids flared as she met his gaze again.
As he finished speaking and silence covered the room, Eliza hopped up. “Well, that concludes our first Poetry Night. I hope you all enjoyed it. Please come back to visit us during regular business hours, and be on the lookout for announcements about our upcoming events here at the store.” Her bright, energetic voice broke the trance that had fallen over the crowd. She chatted with folks as they made their way to the door. After everyone but Grayson had left, Eliza waved at Cat and bounded upstairs before Cat could stop her.
Grayson was in the back of the room, cleaning up coffee cups and moving chairs. Once they were alone, he stopped, fixing his eyes on Cat. It was a hot, piercing gaze. Cat moved toward him slowly.
“What did you think of the poem?” His voice was low, intense.
“Um, well, it was pretty ... vivid,” Cat mumbled. “Which one of your feminist authors wrote it?”
He stepped forward and ran his thumb over her lower lip. “I did. Yesterday. When I was thinking of you. Of how I want you to be thinking of me.”
Cat swallowed. Grayson, this sex god, this unbelievably attractive, hot, seductive younger man, wanted her? Her?
Slowly, so slowly, he dipped his head and kissed her, a light kiss at first, a gentle tasting. After a moment he intensified the kiss, running his fingers through her hair as he ravished her mouth. Cat responded in kind, wrapping her arms around his neck, wanting to get closer to him. Her whole body felt aflame, on fire.
He broke off abruptly. “I’ve been wanting to do this since I first saw you,” he murmured, before swooping in to kiss her again. Cat ran her fingers through his hair as he moved his mouth across her cheek to her ear and down her neck, trailing soft kisses along the surface of her skin. Electric shivers raced up and down her spine and flamed out across her body.
“You have?” she panted. “Usually it’s Eliza the guys go nuts for.”
He chuckled as he pulled her into him, running his hands down her back. “She is beautiful,” he conceded, “but I was drawn to you, pulled in by you. I can see the passion in you. I can feel it.” He dipped to kiss her again. “You try to hide it, which is part of what makes you so irresistible. You need someone to bring you alive. You need me.”
“Oh,” she whispered. Then stopped talking.
He slid his hand down over her backside and pulled her hips full into his. She could feel how aroused he was. Emboldened, she slid her hands up under his shirt, marveling at the hot feel of his skin. He gasped, and then kissed his way down her throat to her chest. Slowly but skillfully he opened each button of her shirt, licking the skin as he exposed it. Cat grew wild with desire, wanting to devour him whole, wanting the heat of his skin against hers. She hadn’t felt this way in such a long time and it was utterly delicious.
They fell together on the sofa in front of the fireplace, murmuring words of desire and sex. He moved his fingers over her body
, following each place he touched with his mouth. Trembling, she allowed him to remove her jeans, watching with wide eyes as he unzipped his. After pulling out a condom from the front pocket, he tossed them aside.
“Is this what you want?” His eyes were deep, dark, seductive pools.
She didn’t want to think. She wanted to feel. “Yes. Oh, yes,” she panted, marveling at how her body had come alive again.
Quickly he tore open the condom package. “Me, too. God, me, too.”
Rising over her, he shifted his hips between her legs, piercing her with his eyes, those intense, beautiful, impossibly blue eyes. He slid into her. I can’t believe I’m doing this; this isn’t me. And then there was no more space for thought—just joy and movement and bodies, and pleasure and release.
Chapter 10
“You slept with him?” Eliza halted the rise of her coffee mug to her lips as she gaped at Cat with wide eyes. “On the couch in the bookstore?”
Cat ducked her head as several sets of eyes transferred to her from around the room.
“Geez, Eliza, say it a little louder, would you? I don’t think the people in the kitchen heard,” she muttered. “Besides, why are you so surprised? You’re the one who’s been telling me to get out there and get back into the game. You even said you’d sleep with him.”
“Yeah,” Eliza conceded. “But I kind of thought you’d only dip your toes into the water instead of going for full-blown skinny dipping on the first return to the pool. Did you use a condom, at least?”
“Of course,” Cat snapped. She knew embarrassment fueled her reaction, knew that she shouldn’t attack her friend because of her own actions.
What she didn’t know was how she felt about last night. Her body this morning occasionally sent zings reminding her of the previous evening’s activities. It had felt fantastic at the time; there was no denying that. And she didn’t feel guilty about the sex, per se—there was nothing wrong with sex, with physical pleasure. It was more that she’d broken her own cardinal rule about one-night stands. She’d never been one to go for physical pleasure over emotional connection. And that’s what had been missing—true intimacy.
Even if Grayson called her, even if this went beyond one night, it still nagged at her how quickly she’d succumbed to his seductive ways. She’d done exactly what she’d mocked the night before. She’d fallen at his feet, ensnared by those poetry-reading lips.
Eliza looked past Cat toward the window. “Uh, oh.”
“What?”
“I think Ben heard me, too. He’s staring this way with a ... a ... I don’t know ... an odd expression on his face.”
Cat pulled her sweater more closely around her and crossed her arms, determined not to check it out for herself. She hadn’t noticed Ben was here. “What’s it to him?” she grumbled. “None of his business, anyway.”
She heard the shuffling of books and the sliding of a chair. She could feel the air stir as Ben passed their table. As he went, he gave a little wave to Eliza, who was facing him, but did not turn to acknowledge Cat. With a forceful shove on the door, he exited the coffee shop.
“See? I knew he was into you,” Eliza whispered.
“Now you whisper? You couldn’t have done that five minutes ago?” Cat took a sip of her coffee and brushed the hair out of her eyes. “And he just made it clear who he’s really interested in if anybody.”
“Are you kidding? The light flirting; his dashing aid to a damsel in distress when the computer died; the fact that he now comes in here every day when before it was only once in a while?”
“He does?”
“You haven’t noticed?”
Cat drummed her fingers on her arms. “Yeah, well, if he does, I’m sure it’s coincidental. He’s taken, remember?”
“I’m not so sure.” Eliza fingered the rim of her coffee mug. “He’s all about you.”
Cat had thought maybe, at their lunch. Until he’d mentioned his date, and Shakespeare. She hadn’t told Eliza of her lunch encounter with Ben. She didn’t know why. She eyed her friend. “What makes you say that?”
“Because I observe people, Cat. It’s what I do. How else am I supposed to find my Wentworth?”
“Wentworth? I thought you were hoping for Darcy.”
“Oh, I am. But Persuasion. So romantic.” Eliza flicked crumbs off her fingers. “Although I hope my Wentworth and I wouldn’t face quite the sad situation that he and Anne did, I suppose.”
“I liked the movie version of that one,” Cat said. She looked around the shop, glad the normal hum of conversation had resumed, and that no one was paying the least bit of attention to Eliza and her. “But you’re wrong about Ben. You’ve practically talked to him more than I have.” Except for that lunch, which for some reason, Cat wanted to keep as her own secret.
Eliza shook her head. “Nope. I’ve seen the way he watches you. With me, it’s like I’m a friend—a kid sister. He’s less sure, more nervous, with you.”
“He’s had the opportunity to ask me out and never has,” Cat protested, not sure why this battle felt so important. He hadn’t, really; after all, an impromptu sharing of nachos was not a date.
“Maybe he’s been waiting for you to notice him and do so. Plus, he’s heard you talking about other men in here. Hard to make a move after that.”
Cat glanced at the door again, though Ben was long gone. She was mortified that he’d overheard Eliza, that he knew she’d slept with Grayson. But why? There were no connections between the two of them. She’d done nothing wrong. Had she?
She turned back to Eliza, determined to block all thoughts of Ben Cooper from her mind. “I thought you wanted to talk about Grayson.”
Eliza’s eyes popped back to Cat. “Oh, yeah. Sex. Deets. Spill. Now.”
“Uh, no. This isn’t one of your books. Let’s just say ... it was magnificent.” She sighed as she remembered the feel of Gray’s lips down her side. It had all been so dizzying, so electrifying. She hadn’t felt so alive in years. She ran her hands over her thighs, remembering the feel of him, of those muscular thighs, those perfectly toned arms. Her skin erupted in goosebumps and she closed her eyes, reliving the scene in her head.
Eliza interrupted her reverie. “OK, fine. Ruin it for the romance junkie. Are you going to see him again?”
“We’ll see,” Cat replied. “Maybe I was a one-poetry-reading fling for him.”
“Would that bother you?”
“Yes, it would. In spite of what you’ve been hinting to the good folks in this coffee shop, I’m not the type to sleep around, as you well know. I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s called lust, girlfriend. But I know you’re not. You’re almost as old-fashioned on that as I am.”
Cat smiled at her as her friend went on.
“In spite of the smutty novels and, I admit, a fair number of dates, you know I’m not going to get intimate with just anyone. Sex is more meaningful than that. At least for me.” Eliza chuckled sadly to herself. “Geez, I really do belong in the nineteenth century.”
“Are you going to ditch me now that I’ve allowed myself to be seduced by a virtual stranger?” Catherine teased.
“Not a chance, girlfriend. You’re stuck with me. Besides, who knows what will happen?” Eliza glanced at her phone, checking the time. “What about Derrick, though? He called last night while you were, uh, otherwise occupied.”
“He did?” Cat pursed her lips. “I’ve thought about it. I’m not interested. He’s a nice guy, but he seems a little stuck. I mean, he’s got the same job, the same friends, the same hangouts he’s had since high school. It’s one thing to be the quarterback when you’re eighteen. It’s another to be holding onto that when you’re thirty-eight.” She broke off with a snigger. “Listen to me! When did I become such a conceited bitch? As if I’m any less stuck than he is.”
Eliza stood up and grabbed her bag. “I’ve got to get to class, but I get what you’re saying. Too bad about Derrick, though.”
Cat’s eyebrows puckered. “Why’s that?”
“He’s got such a nice car.”
On Thursday morning, Ben Cooper showed up as promised, router in hand.
Eliza clapped when he walked through the door. “Yippee! Now I can do online research while minding the store.”
“Check Facebook, you mean,” Cat sniggered. She smoothed her hands down the front of her navy blouse, inexplicably nervous.
Ben nodded at them both, heading directly to the desk. “This should only take a minute.” He crawled underneath, rustling around with the cables.
Eliza shot Cat a questioning glance.
What? Cat mouthed. Okay, so he wasn’t being effusive in his conversation, but he wasn’t being rude, either. Maybe he had somewhere to be. Maybe this brusque attitude had nothing to do with her.
And maybe it did, part of her chided. Why did she feel guilty? There were no ties between Ben and her. He’d told her himself he had a date to dinner and a play. Why would it matter to him that she’d had a date of her own? Not exactly a date. More like ... a seduction. She blew the hair out of her eyes. She hadn’t heard from Grayson, either, which rankled. She didn’t need grief from Ben Cooper.
After a minute, Ben backed out from the desk and hopped up. “May I?” He gestured to the computer.
“By all means.” Cat crossed her arms, watching him.
“Thanks again, Ben,” Eliza offered. “I’m so excited. What do we owe you for the router?”
Cat noticed his jaw tic slightly. It hadn’t even occurred to her the router would cost something. Duh.
His eyes flew to hers and then moved to Eliza. He grinned, his dimple showing, but Cat didn’t think it quite reached his eyes. “On the house. I have plenty of extras.” He clicked a few more keys. “There. Tell me if your laptop is showing available wi-fi.”
Eliza pulled her laptop out of her backpack and fired it up. “Yup!”
“Good. The password is Fungus. You can change it if you want.”
Eliza giggled, giving Cat an odd look. Crap. She knows that’s what I call mushrooms. “No, Fungus is just fine, isn’t it, Cat?”
The Magic of Love Series Page 9