by Aria Ford
“Great,” I said. “I'll get those out to you now...”
I set their orders down on the tray and headed back into the kitchen. Drew stood up as I came in.
“Three croissants?” Marcelle asked me.
“Uh huh,” I commented absently. “Raspberry or apricot?” I asked him.
“Yes.”
We both ended up laughing a little hysterically.
“I mean,” he said softly as the laughter subsided momentarily, “raspberry would be great thanks.”
I smiled radiantly and headed out to the front to fill the orders.
When my customers were eating happily, and fresh customers were starting to build up on the sidewalk outside, I went through to the back and gave Drew his croissant. He took a slow bite, eyes closed appreciatively and I felt my loins tighten as he murmured.
“Mm. So good.”
My cheeks flushed with color, pride and arousal mixed. “Thank you,” I demurred.
He laughed.
He finished his order while I went out to make coffee for the new customers and take their orders and when I came back into the kitchen to finish cutting out scone-dough, he stood.
“I guess I should go,” he said softly. “I can't stay under your feet like this all day. And I need to organize stuff back at the hotel. Settle my bill.”
“Okay,” I said. I was surprised by how disheartened I felt. I desperately didn't want to say goodbye. I reached out and rested my hand on his shoulder. “It was...good,” I murmured.
Drew looked into my eyes and blinked. I felt my throat tighten and cleared it.
“Thanks for stopping by,” I said. I was crying now, tears running soundlessly down my cheeks and dripping slowly off my chin. I shook my head as he reached up with a tissue.
“Tissue?”
“Thanks,” I said, reaching for it. He dabbed at my tears himself, very gently. I drew in a long shuddering breath.
“Allie,” he said under his breath. “I… thank you for everything.”
I chuckled. “Thank you, too. Thanks.”
He passed me the tissue and smiled into my eyes.
“It was great to see you,” he said softly.
“You too.”
He looked at me and then very gently, we kissed. I felt myself melt in his arms, his hand on my shoulder, drawing me close, his other hand stroking my head softly. My heart melted as my body pressed to his. I wrapped him in my arms, holding him close.
When he gently disentangled himself, looking down tenderly at me, I felt as if it wasn't possible for me to part, as if my body was drawn to his like a magnet to metal and that if he walked away now I would snap, part of me leaving with him, drawn to him across the widened space.
He smiled back at me when he reached the door.
“Bye,” he said.
“Bye,” I whispered. I held up my hand and then he was gone, going out through the kitchen door and out into the street. I watched the door moment, closed gently behind him in his passing, as if not even leaving the trace of an open door. Then he was gone.
The merest trace of pastry flaking the table was all the evidence I had that he had ever been here, ever walked into my life once more. That, and the widening gulf in my heart.
I drew in a shuddering breath.
I turned around to face my small, empty kitchen. It was bright and cheerful. Marcelle had just come back in from the front desk and she was bending over the floured counter-top, studiously looking elsewhere.
I drew in a long, shaky breath. “Well,” I said brightly. “I think the first scones can go in now. And it’s not nine A.M. yet. We’re going strongly.”
She nodded. “Yes, Ms. Hendricks.
I sighed. What could I say? My life had suddenly hit the wall of his absence and I was stunned. It had all happened so fast! He was part of my life one moment, slotting in so seamlessly that it seemed as if he'd never been absent. Now, just as suddenly, he was gone.
What am I going to do now?
I shook my head, impatient with myself. How the hell would I know? I'd just take one day at a time.
“Marcelle?”
“Yes?”
“Will you check on the guys out there again? Sorry. I just need to get these into the oven.”
I carried the laden tray of unbaked scones – rich and gooey and delicious – over to the oven. Then I slid them in and shut the door.
Alone in the kitchen for a moment, I let my eyes fill with tears. I sobbed.
Drew, I thought sadly. You always do this to me. You have no pity, do you? First he was in my life, and then he wasn't. It felt as if my heart, made so suddenly to celebrate, was in mourning.
I shook my head impatiently at myself and started making a fresh batch of scones. I could smell the first lot cooking.
“Ms. Hendricks`”
“Uh huh?”
“Two scones. And cappuccino. Can you do the machine? I never quite get the bit with the foam properly...”
“Sure,” I nodded. “I'll do that. You take over here, huh?”
“Sure, Mrs. Hendricks.”
“Great.”
Sniffing firmly, I took a deep breath and headed out to address my customers. I had to – this was my life.
My life was absolutely not in any way connected to that tall, dark-haired and stunning man who was even now packing to head back to San Diego.
No, I told myself firmly. That was a dream. This is reality.
CHAPTER NINE
Drew
I finished packing in silence. I sat on the bed in my hotel room. My mind was reeling.
Allie, I thought, feeling dazed. I can't believe it. I found you.
After all these years, having her back in my life again...it felt almost as if I'd never been apart from her. And yet it raised a whole lot of its own questions, too. What was I going to do now? Should I keep in touch? I knew what I wanted, but would she want that?
I sighed. My whole body throbbed as I thought of the previous night. I couldn't keep my heart from thumping faster as I remembered her smooth skin on my body, the scent of her hair, the way she felt as she lay under me, or as I penetrated her.
“Come on, Drew,” I said harshly to myself. “No point in dwelling on things like that.”
I reached for my suitcase and started packing slowly. Outside, the sun was still shining, though clouds were starting to rise on the horizon. I looked out over the rooftops and felt my heart already aching.
I'll leave all this behind soon.
I was surprised by how much that hurt me. I had only spent a single night with her, after all. One night.
I sighed. My things were all packed and I looked at the full suitcase, feeling strangely hollow. Everything I got off the checklist – packing, paying, calling the taxi to take me to the airport – all those things were one more thing on the chain that led away from her. Back to my boring present.
“Oh, well. That's how it is.”
I pushed the case off the bed and left it by the door. Took a look round the room, checking to see if there was anything I'd forgotten about. Didn't seem to be.
I noticed that the bed was conspicuously not-slept-in since the previous day. I felt my lips lift in a tender smile. I wonder what the cleaning team will think of that?
Well, that was something I'd never find out about. I unlocked the door and put the case beyond the threshold. Everything I did felt oddly empty. I walked out into the hallway, locked the door and headed down to the lobby.
“Hi,” I said to the girl at the desk. “I'd like to settle the bill?”
“Sure,” she said, smiling warmly as she looked through the list. “Mr. Liston, right?”
“Right,” I said.
We sorted out the costs and I paid, then settled down in the leather armchair in the lobby to call the taxi. And my uncle. He'd be wanting to hear how things had gone. I was surprised he wasn't calling me, quite frankly. It was unusually obliging of him not to bother me now.
I called him.
“Yes, Drew?” he drawled. “You're at the airport already? It's only eleven A.M.”
I snorted. “No, Uncle. I'm still at the hotel. Just thought I'd call to let you know the campaign launch was successful.”
“Good,” he said, giving a grunt of satisfaction. “Just what I thought. So. We'll get you back at ten this evening, yes?”
“Yes, Uncle,” I said.
“Good. Safe travels.”
“Thanks. I'll try.”
He chuckled dryly and we hung up.
When he'd put down the phone, I was surprised by how resentful I actually felt, just hearing his voice. All my resentments about his interference in my life, culminating in his managing my involvement with Carrie, welled up in me.
Damn that guy.
I put my phone back in my pocket and tried to compose myself. It was the aloof, easy confidence of him, the way he manipulated people as if it was his right. I wished I could shout at him, or at least question why he thought he could use people without considering them as humans, even. But I knew I wouldn't.
When I got back to see him I would be plunged instantly into work and then I'd be too stressed and too busy focusing on other things. He would be his normal arrogant self and I would be too busy and too scattered to confront him. Like everyone else did, I would just do what he said.
“I had this time,” I sighed to myself. I had at least seen Allie again.
I thought about that, making sense of it. My uncle had told me, categorically, that Allie and I were a bad match.
“She's no good for you,” he'd said softly. “And you can be sure you'd be no good for her.” He had married my mom's sister, and they came from a similar background – both moneyed. At least, he was by then.
When I had questioned him about that, he'd shrugged. “Different worlds, Drew. Different worlds.”
He'd said she would be out of her depth in my world, a simple tradesman's daughter. And that I would find it difficult to relate to her, and she to me.
“Pick someone who knows your lifestyle better,” he advised. “Maybe Carrie. She'll suit you.”
And I had gone along with his suggestion. To my detriment.
Why didn't I trust my better judgment? I knew Allie and I were perfect together. I knew that then and, Heaven help me, I knew that now. I would never blindly believe Uncle knew best, again.
I called the taxi and arranged a pick-up at noon. It was better to figure in any possible delays in the traffic. I rolled my shoulders and headed out for a walk, leaving my luggage at the desk.
The streets smelled of rain, fresh and crisp. The sun shone on the puddles and my heart lifted as I walked. I found I was grinning, my thoughts all of the previous night and Allie. Dammit! I was smiling so much my cheeks hurt. As I passed a cafe I smelled the enticing scent of baking and suddenly I was missing her even more badly.
This was it. I knew I had to do something. I had to see her again.
The rest of the day passed in the blur of travel, and by the time I reached the airport in San Diego I felt exhausted.
I collected my baggage from the carousel and felt gratitude for the extra legroom as I hobbled out into the hall. I was tall and my legs still got cramped, even in first-class seating.
I was met by a driver and closed my eyes as we moved smoothly through the streets. My mind was still in a small bed in Asheville, nestling with the beautiful woman who had captured my heart. I wondered, absently, what she was doing now.
She's probably not asleep yet, I thought. The consideration of her in bed made my cock hard and I coughed, acutely aware of the driver's proximity beside me. It was dark in the car, the only illumination coming from street-lamps flashing overhead and I was fairly sure he wasn't going to witness.
All the same, the thought made me deliciously embarrassed and I grinned, chuckling.
“Everything okay, Mr. Liston?”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “Everything's quite okay.”
I subsided back into my seat. It wasn't okay. My heart was somewhere else, my body going through the motions of paying the driver, shaking his hand, taking out my luggage and unlocking the door to the glossy black apartment building.
I went up in the lift, my mind dazed. It wasn't the late night and the traveling. It was confusion.
I sat down on my bed and the first thing I did was realize something. I didn't have a number to contact Allie. I would have liked to message, to at least find out how she was. No number. No mail. Nothing.
“Drew, you're an asshole.”
I hadn't even thought to ask. Everything was so overwhelming. I hadn't even thought of it.
Feeling desperately stupid, I scrolled through to my web-browser and keyed in the name of her business. Dammit – why did her business even need to be called something so erotic? I shook my head.
“For booking a table or for catering requirements, contact me...” I closed my eyes. What could I do? Phone the shop and ask to speak to Allie?
Well, if you have to, it's better than nothing.
I couldn't call at eleven-twenty-five at night. I couldn't do anything about it right now. I'd just have to wait until morning.
They open at eight-thirty. That time was inscribed on my brain since this morning. Since waking up beside her and finding she had an hour to get to work on time for that.
I'd call then. At least, I thought, as I shrugged off my jacket and sat down wearily on my bed, I was home and it was Sunday tomorrow.
I could sink easily into work.
Boy, was I wrong about that. The first thing that happened to me the next morning as I sat at my kitchen table, a cup of coffee steaming before my bleary eyes, my hands resting absently somewhere before it, was a call.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Drew,” my uncle's voice said smoothly. “Just wanted to call to arrange a meeting later today. Shall we do lunch?”
I blinked. “On Sunday?”
“Yes, Drew,” he said with that suave, slick, disinterested tone of his. “Why not? I have important matters to discuss. I need to find out about this campaign. And you missed some important updates from our shareholders. I think you'll be pleased to return up-to-date tomorrow.”
I sighed. “Yes, uncle.” What else could I say? I was going to have this meeting whether I wanted it or not, after all. The least I could do was appreciate the effort to fill me in.
“Good,” he said, his voice rich and satisfied. “At Drover's, one pm.”
“Okay,” I said weakly. What else could I say?
“Good. See you then. Don't be late.”
“Bye.”
I hung up and put my phone in my pocket. I blinked.
“What's up with me?”
I swore, my fist clenching with mute frustration. A minute on the phone with that guy and there I was, acting as if he was the king and I was his loyal vassal. I never could understand it!
Uncle was like that. He'd built up his company by dint of charisma and he had it – enough for three people. Combined with an iron will and an unshakeable belief in his absolute dominion over his company and those closest to him, he was someone who it was hard to resist. I couldn't be mad at myself for that. I had been trying to do so for the last ten years. Without success.
“This time it's different,” I told myself as I stood and went to fix breakfast. This time, I had spent time with Allie and I knew that not everything he said was true. I knew he had been wrong in saying we were unsuited. He was wrong in thinking Carrie and I were better matched. And he was catastrophically wrong in assuming he knew best what would be good for me, in my life!
“I'm not doing that.” Not again.
I fried an egg and made toast, all the while remembering my breakfast yesterday – the toast, the coffee. The croissant with its crumbling, melting pastry and the sweet berry-flavored filling.
“Woman, you'll drive me nuts.”
I wished I could say it to her, but of course she wasn't here. I sighed.
I had to do something to see her soon. I really would go nuts if I didn't.
I headed off to the imposing hotel restaurant just after midday. I wasn't about to keep uncle waiting for dinner. If I was planning to confront him about what he did to me six years ago, I wasn't planning to start by putting him in a bad mood.
“Drew,” my uncle said, looking up from Time magazine as I came in. He was at the usual table. Even though it was ten minutes early.
“Uncle,” I said. “Hello.”
“You look well. Asheville was good for you?”
“Yeah,” I said. I couldn't help the blush that crept into my cheeks. “It was.”
He raised a brow. “Good. And productive?”
“It was,” I nodded. “After the event, we received fifty subscriptions.”
He pursed his lips. “After an event with, what? Seventy people?”
I nodded. “About seventy. I have the figures somewhere.”
“Oh.” He nodded slowly. “Very good. So the strategy is working?”
“It seems to be.” I shrugged.
“Well, then. We need to implement it more widely. Of course, you're too much in demand at HQ for us to spare you for all the events. But the New York launch, And LA....definitely.”