Save the Date

by R. J. Groves

  ‘I make it strong,’ he said, reaching into the cupboard again and pulling out a pink bag. ‘And I have marshmallows.’

  She bit into her lip, and he wondered why he was even trying to get her to have a drink—any drink. Any other woman who’d been in his apartment hadn’t gotten that kind of treatment. It was all … strictly business, so to speak. But it had been so easy with Andie. And if—if—anything happened, he didn’t want it to be strictly business. Ever. She was worth more than that.

  The thought made his skin prickle. There’d only been one other woman who’d made him think that, and she’d turned out to be more trouble than she was worth. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Andie wasn’t like her, was she? No … The little he’d worked out about Andie showed him she was nothing like his ex. Then again, he hadn’t suspected anything with his ex until it was too late.

  ‘Go on, then,’ she said, her eyes teasing. ‘I’ll have three of those marshmallows.’

  He smiled. ‘They’re big.’

  Her lips curved higher. ‘Three, please.’ He started making the hot chocolates, aware of her roaming the room behind him. ‘You know,’ she added. ‘You never answered my question.’

  ‘Which one?’ he said, pouring the hot water into the cups. He glanced towards her.

  ‘What’s a girl to do if she wants to watch something around here?’

  His heart skipped a beat. ‘Andie, if you want to watch the television, help yourself. It’s all in there. Make yourself at home.’ He nodded towards his bedroom door. It was open, of course, since he rarely had visitors.

  She narrowed her eyes, her smile wide. ‘Maybe I will.’

  He watched as she hesitantly moved towards his room and chuckled to himself, ignoring the thought that she seemed to fit well in his house. He added a splash of milk to both cups and dropped a marshmallow in each.

  Well, maybe he would, too.

  ***

  Watching the television was a bad idea.

  Sure, it worked in theory. Something playing in the background meant it wouldn’t be as awkward, right? Except, that theory only worked when the television was in a common area. Like a lounge room, for instance. Not the bedroom, where the only place to sit was on the bed.

  She forced the third marshmallow into her mouth and chewed it slowly. He was right—the marshmallows were big. So big that only one would fit in the cup without overflowing her drink. Taylor Ballin, however, being the gentleman he was, had still brought in the other two marshmallows she’d requested on a little plate and had no doubt expected her to eat them. She had asked for them, after all. And she was not about to let him think that she couldn’t have what she asked for. Even though she felt like one marshmallow was more than enough.

  ‘Can you say fluffy bunny?’ he teased.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Shut up,’ she forced out, muffled. She moved her gaze back to focus on the television.

  ‘It’s not too much for you, is it?’

  She forced herself to swallow the marshmallow, hoping she didn’t succumb to a sugar coma. ‘You made them bigger, didn’t you?’

  He laughed. ‘How could I have done that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, shrugging, hazarding a glance towards him. ‘You’re the one that did it.’

  His eyebrow lifted. ‘I did mention that you have a wild imagination, didn’t I?’

  She scowled at him, but couldn’t quite find it in her to be mad. The teasing all seemed so … natural. So, nice. So … flirty. She couldn’t think of the last time she’d had a guy tease her like that. School days, possibly. But even then, it was nothing like his. She leaned back against the bedhead, stretching one leg out straight, and the one closest to him bent. Almost like a wall between them. She focused on her hot chocolate, feeling his gaze prickle her skin as he identified her change in position.

  He’d had his legs stretched out in front of him, reclining comfortably from the start. She’d started off on the edge of the bed, then moved to being cross-legged, before changing to how she was sitting now. It just seemed so different to what she was used to. She’d never simply sat on a bed next to a guy to watch the television. It was both intimate and, well, innocent, in a way. She could sense the underlying tension of something more. How could she not? She was there, alone with him, on his bed. But at the same time, there seemed to be no pressure. She briefly considered if she could maintain a friendship with him, but decided it couldn’t just be that. Eventually, something would happen. It was inevitable. The more time she spent with him, the sooner it would be. She knew that meant she shouldn’t see him. Still …

  She glanced towards him and studied his features, the way the light from the television shone on his face. His relaxed expression, a slight smile on his face. The way his jaw looked square, his stubble soft. The contours of his face, his body, defined. She watched as an eyebrow bobbed slightly upwards and his lips curved higher. Then he turned his head towards her, his expression expectant. Waiting. Calm.

  Her cheeks grew hot, and she sipped her hot chocolate in an attempt to hide it. He was right. He did make it strong. But it was good. God, it was good. She cleared her throat, telling herself to say something. Because if she didn’t, there would just be that look. And she wouldn’t know what that look meant.

  ‘I’ve never been one for a television in the bedroom,’ she said, her eyes widening. Well, it was something, though possibly not the kind of something to say to someone who had a television in his bedroom. That she was watching. With him.

  ‘I never liked the idea of it either, until—’ He drifted off, finishing his hot chocolate and putting the empty cup on the bedside table. ‘It’s usually just me here. It’s more comfortable in bed, anyway. And warmer, too. Cheaper on electricity.’

  She frowned. He’d been about to say something and had so clearly changed the topic. She wondered what had happened. An ex, perhaps? She thought about what Libby had told her, about him being hurt. Still … it didn’t sound like the kind of thing to convert a no-television-in-the-bedroom kind of guy, to having one only in his bedroom.

  ‘I didn’t think you were the kind of guy to worry about money.’ Joseph hadn’t been. He’d left lights on left, right and centre. She was forever turning lights and power points off. Always trying to save money when he couldn’t have cared less.

  ‘Wasn’t always,’ he said simply. She felt as though there was more—that he could be more verbal about his mysterious past. Like he wanted to say more but couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

  She didn’t know why that made her disappointed. She should be relieved that he didn’t want to share too much about his past. Diving too far into the past was too intimate. Certainly not suitable for a living-in-the-moment kind of thing. Which is what she hoped they were. Living in the moment. Not something more. She felt her heart drop. She shouldn’t want anything more with him. It was still too soon …

  Even if she felt foolish for having let herself think she was in love with Joseph.

  At the time, she’d been so sure. Now? Now she knew she’d been childish, wanting her fantasy and seeing Joseph as her Prince Charming. Well, as it turned out, sometimes Prince Charming was actually the jerk-faced crook who specialised in heartbreak rather than making dreams come true.

  ‘It seems you’re a lot that you weren’t always,’ she said, swallowing, willing herself to forget anything about Joseph. He was a con man, and she was conned. That’s all she had to remember. It was proof that she had to guard her heart better. Guard herself.

  Taylor’s eyes flickered. ‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me.’

  She felt her lips curve in a half-hearted smile. Guard yourself. God, she needed to remember that. She couldn’t let things get too personal with him. If she did, she knew there would be no coming back.

  ‘Would you tell me?’

  So why the hell could she not get that through her head?

  He flashed her a cheeky grin, one that made her insides melt. Her lips curved
higher, and she pressed her cup to her lips in a feeble attempt to regain control. ‘Depends,’ he said.

  ‘On what?’

  ‘On what you want to know.’

  She bit into her lip, studying him. Holding his expectant gaze. Here she was, given an opportunity to ask Taylor Ballin anything, and he may or may not answer. So, what should she say?

  ‘Dogs or cats?’

  She felt herself scream inside. Anything—anything at all—and she asks if he prefers dogs or cats? What the hell was wrong with her? How about jumping straight to the point and asking why he was different now to what he’d supposedly been?

  His smile widened, and he rolled to his side slightly to face her better. ‘Hard to decide.’ She lifted an eyebrow, and he leaned on his elbow. ‘I like all animals. But if I had to choose, I’d say dogs. Loyalty and all that. You?’

  She opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut. She didn’t even like animals all that much. Sure, she loved looking at cute pictures of them or seeing them from a distance, but getting all up close and personal with them? She knew what dogs and cats did with their tongues. There was no way in hell she was letting them lick her after that.

  ‘Yeah, dogs, I guess,’ she lied. His eyebrow lifted, and she faltered. He’d just said he liked all animals. How could she say that she didn’t exactly feel the same? ‘I mean, I like looking at adorable puppy pictures, but I—’

  The look in his eyes became mischievous, his lips curving high. ‘You don’t like animals, do you?’

  ‘I like them,’ she added, sitting up straighter, tucking her legs to the side of her. ‘I just don’t … like … them.’ The bastard laughed. She frowned. ‘You’re not mad?’

  ‘Why would I be mad?’ he said, his expression suddenly growing serious. He looked as though he was about to say something else, but her mind got there first.

  Joseph.

  Was he asking whether or not Joseph had been controlling enough to be mad when she didn’t agree?

  Well, he had. But she wasn’t going to embarrass herself by telling Taylor that.

  ‘Just that you like them so much,’ she said, before he could speak. ‘You don’t get frustrated with people who don’t?’

  He shrugged, his eyes holding hers a moment longer, as if picking up that she’d avoided the hidden topic. ‘Each to their own,’ he said. ‘I mean, if we’re being honest, that movie we watched on our … umm … arrangement’—he cringed as he spoke—‘was … well, I hated it. Totally not my thing.’

  Her lips lifted involuntarily. ‘Me too. I just thought it would help the arrangement not go so well.’

  He pulled himself up more, almost excitedly. ‘I knew you were trying to sabotage it.’

  ‘Well, you didn’t make it easy, did you?’ she said, pushing against his shoulder.

  She shouldn’t have.

  His eyes dropped to her hand as she released his shoulder, and he looked back at her with a darkness in them. Dark. But not cold. No … she felt it too. Felt the shock that pulsed through her body when she touched him. The way he held her gaze sent a shiver down her spine, her breath catching. She wanted it—God, she wanted it. More. All of it. All of him. And at the same time, deep down, she knew she shouldn’t. Shouldn’t want any of it. Her eyes lowered, and she bit into her bottom lip. But, oh, she still remembered what his lips tasted like. Still remembered how they felt when they were moving against hers. How it made her feel, having him so tantalisingly close the night before, their breaths mingling. And she wanted to feel that again. And she didn’t want it to stop.

  Her eyes lowered further, focusing on his strong neck as he swallowed, and further again, realising that, at some stage since he’d brought her back to his place, he’d untucked his shirt and loosened the buttons, revealing the grey singlet beneath it. She’d been sitting next to him and hadn’t noticed. How could she not have noticed that the guy was almost bare-chested next to her? That he looked possibly even more sexy wearing a singlet than what she thought him wearing nothing would be like. Not that she’d imagined him wearing nothing. But now that she thought about it … She felt the blush creep onto her cheeks and focused back on his eyes.

  ‘Andie.’

  The deep tone of his voice resonated through her, vibrating until each and every one of her hairs stood on end and every inch of her tingled. It sounded too good, hearing him say her name. She’d never thought her name could sound beautiful. Desirable. And yet, he’d made it sound so much more than that. Her lips parted as a small exhale released. She didn’t know what to say—couldn’t know what to say. No one had ever made her feel that way. And never by simply uttering her name. She could have sworn she heard a groan—though from him or her, she would never know—and he closed the distance between them, pressing his lips firmly against hers.

  Their lips moulded so perfectly together that it made her pulse leap. It shouldn’t feel like this, should it? Addictive, perfect. Right. She felt a small burst of alarm inside her, but his hand slid over her hip until it rested against her lower back, making her only want more of him. His tongue teased hers, and he kissed her deeply, passionately, gently, until she was no longer sure of where she ended, and he started. He kissed the fear away—the worries and convictions that this couldn’t happen. God, feeling him kiss her like that, she was convinced that just about anything could happen, and she’d be okay with that. Hell, she could probably take on the world if it meant more of his kisses.

  Her body relaxed as he pressed his hand against her back, his thumb moving in slow rhythmic circles, and she lifted a hand to cup his cheek, feeling the soft bristles on the palm of her hand. He tasted of chocolate and marshmallows and man. Hot, heady, intoxicating, man. He shuffled towards her without breaking their kiss, and pulled her closer, his hand lowering slightly as he did. God, his touch. What she’d give for more of his touch, his kisses. Him. She pressed her body against his and jerked back as a warmth spread over her stomach and her thighs.

  He swore. Her heart dropped and her cheeks grew hot. ‘Oh, God,’ she muttered, pulling her chocolate-stained shirt away from her stomach.

  She glanced at him to find his shirt and singlet had met a similar fate. As did his quilt. God, how far could half a cup of hot chocolate spread? Embarrassed, she launched herself off the bed, set the now empty cup on the bedside table, and pulled the wet part of the quilt away from the rest of the bed in hopes that it wouldn’t leak through. Trust her luck …

  ‘Andie,’ he said, his tone calm, amused.

  Oh, how could he be amused? She squeezed her eyes shut, her body shaking. Was this the universe telling her not to go there? Was this a sign that her path and Taylor Ballin’s should not cross like this? But she wanted it … She wanted it more than anything else. She bit into her quivering lip, wishing that things could for once go right for her.

  ‘Andie.’

  More serious now, concerned. She bit harder. In seconds, she felt herself being pulled into a warm set of arms and she was engulfed by the unique, addictive smell of him and chocolate. And she sobbed. Hell, she hated herself right now. He swore again, and tightened his arms around her. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter and felt him lower himself to the edge of the bed, pulling her onto his lap. She kept sobbing, wishing she knew exactly what she was crying about. Damn it. Damn it all! So much for her resolve to not be a blubbering mess.

  ‘Babe, no,’ he said, his voice soothing, his hand smoothing over her back. ‘Andie, it’s just chocolate. It’ll wash out.’ She shook her head, burying her face in his shoulder. He rested his head against hers. ‘It will, I promise.’

  ‘I—it’s not th—that,’ she blubbered, pressing herself tighter against him. If he was going to avoid her after this, at least she would remember how it felt to be close to him. Even if it wasn’t in the way she’d wanted it to be.

  He squeezed his arms around her, as if he understood how much she needed the closeness. Maybe he needed it, too. ‘What is it, love?’ he said, his voice wavering slight
ly.

  Love. Babe. Oh, he probably didn’t realise he was calling her these sweet pet names. And she’d never been one for pet names, but when he said it …

  She sobbed again.

  Chapter 22

  Shit.

  Tay pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, moving his hand over her back in a soothing motion. What the hell happened? Were these tears really over spilt hot chocolate? It couldn’t have possibly burned her—it was nowhere near hot enough. So, why the tears?

  Her body shuddered with another sob, and he held her tighter.

  And why did it tug at him so much, having her cry? He felt like he would do just about anything to stop the tears, the heartache she so clearly felt. It was heartache, he was sure. He’d seen women cry. He knew when it was put on, or overdramatised. Pathetic.

  This?

  This was pure, raw emotion. He didn’t know what, exactly, he was witnessing, but he could tell she was not putting it on. These were real tears. Real pain. And he didn’t know what to do about it except hold her and wish there was something—anything—he could do to make her feel better. It was something he’d never done with anyone before. And in this moment, he couldn’t picture doing it with anyone else.

  He felt his body tense, and forced himself to relax.

  Andie.

  This was about Andie, not him. Her pain, her tears. Whether or not he could picture himself holding another woman while she sobbed her heart out had no place in this moment. The fact of the matter was that it was Andie in his arms. Andie, whose lips had been against his. Andie, who had opened herself up to him for more. Who had wanted more. And now, it was Andie whose tears were tearing at his heart.

  ‘Did I do something wrong?’ he said, his voice choked. Damn it. Damn it all. His voice didn’t get choked. He didn’t feel any of … this. He’d avoided all of this for so long and now …

  Had he been missing something all these years? Something that he hadn’t realised he’d been missing until now? Like how his place seemed less empty with her there, or how he felt like he should have been holding this creature in his arms all this time? Or that he should be breathing in the sweet smell of her shampoo in her hair, and waking her up with a soft kiss? Calling her love and babe had been too easy.