by Shirley Jump
"What's wrong with waiting?" Travis said, coming up behind her. He couldn't believe those words were coming out of his mouth, but there they were, hanging in the air.
"Everything," she said, nearly shouting the words and wheeling around, spinning into his arms.
He looked into her deep blue eyes and wanted her like he'd never wanted anyone before. She was his, for the taking. All he had to do was lean forward, press his lips to hers and she'd head down that hall just as so many other women had before, and be in his bed, her naked body pressed to his, in seconds.
But the thought of Meredith making the journey others had, of taking her to the same room where he had been with women whose names he couldn't even remember, left him with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
She may not want more, but God help him, for the first time in his life, Travis did.
He tipped a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. "Don't take the first opportunity that comes along, Meredith. Savor every moment and taste things one at a time. It'll be that much sweeter when the time is right."
"Are you speaking from experience?"
He shook his head. "No. But after meeting you, I wish I were."
"Damn you, Travis Campbell." Her eyes misted and she jerked back. "Don't be a gentleman. Not now."
"I'm no gentleman, trust me."
"Oh yeah? Then prove it to me." She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the hallway. "Take me to your bed and make me a woman."
"You already are one."
"You know what I mean." She stepped up to him, pressing her torso to his, wriggling a little against his pelvis. His body begged him to stop listening to his head. "Make love to me."
"I want to. Oh man, do I want to." He stood as still as he could, willing himself not to react, but that worked about as well as using Legos against an impending tidal wave.
"Maybe you just need some incentive." She released his hands and reached for the hem of her bright blue shirt.
He watched, every muscle in his body frozen, as she tugged the soft fabric up and over her head and threw it onto a chair. Then, when he thought he couldn't stand the anticipation for a half a second longer, she reached behind herself and released her lacy blue bra, letting it slip off her arms and drop to the floor.
Meredith had magnificent breasts, wine glass sized, and he knew if he touched one it would be firm and even in his palm, that the nipple would harden beneath his thumb and she would gasp at his touch, melting against him, releasing another of those quiet mews that nearly drove him insane.
"Do I need to go further?'' she whispered.
"No. No." He blinked, but she still stood before him, half naked and more tempting than Aphrodite herself.
"Then quit telling me what I need to do and take a few orders from me instead.'' She grabbed his palms and placed them against her breasts. Unbidden, his fingers curled into place, cupping them with a natural touch as if he'd held her a hundred times before. "Make love to me, Travis Campbell, before I go insane."
Travis had scooped her into his arms and carried Meredith halfway to his bed before reason stepped in. Actually, reason didn't make an appearance at all. It was the vibration of her cell phone, clipped to the pocket of her skirt and thrumming against his pelvis, that jerked him back to reality.
"Your... your phone," he managed, pausing in the doorway of his bedroom. Eight feet away his queen-sized bed waited, made up with dark cranberry bedding and a quartet of down pillows.
"Let it ring," Meredith said, her fingers working on the buttons on his shirt.
The phone began to play a Bach Minuet, the classical music coming out in a tinny sound. "You really should get that. It could be important."
"I guarantee it's my mother and it isn't important." She yanked at his shirt and got the first tail out of his waistband.
Oh God. Eight steps and he could have her on the bed. In three seconds he could have her skirt up, panties off and be entering bliss. No U-turns allowed.
"You really need to answer that," he said, releasing her to the floor before she got a good grip on his belt because he only had so much willpower. And the better half of it he'd left back in the doorway.
"Fine," she said, in a tone that said it wasn't fine at all. She flipped open the phone and said hello.
Travis took that opportunity to take a step back and breathe. Actually, to remind himself to breathe in and breathe out because being this close to both Meredith and Nirvana made it damned near impossible for him to remember to do anything much at all.
"Momma, I'm busy right—" Meredith cut off her sentence, listening. "No. He didn't. I told him it was—" she listened again. "Momma, I don't need you to—" another pause. "Yes, I am wearing a coat when I go outside." Pause. "And yes, I do know better than to go out with wet hair." She sighed. "Momma, you have to talk to him. Stop him somehow."
Travis shrugged out of his shirt and draped it over Meredith's shoulders, easing her free hand into one of the sleeves, then holding the other while she switched the slim cellular phone to the opposite ear. All the while, he wondered who the "him" was that she was referring to and what she wanted her mother to stop him from doing.
It was none of his business, he reminded himself. Meredith had made it clear there was nothing between them but what they had been about to do in his bed.
And yet, as he helped her slip her slender arm into the too-big sleeves of his shirt, he felt a weird surge of protectiveness and God help him, caring.
He took one last glance at his bed and knew it wasn't going to get unmade. Not this afternoon.
While Meredith finished her phone call, Travis leaned forward and did up two of the buttons on his shirt. It was enough to give him some mental—and visual—breathing room.
At least it took his mind off of what he wanted to do on the Serta Perfect Sleeper just a few feet away.
Meredith hung up her phone and reclipped it onto her waistband. "Talk about a mood killer," she said, laughing.
"Probably a good idea," he said, taking a step forward and putting his hands on her waist. "I like you, Meredith," and as the words left his mouth he realized they didn't sound nearly as scary as they felt, "and I want... Well, this is going to sound crazy."
"Want what?"
"I've never said this before in my life and I'm sure that five seconds after you walk out my door, I'm going to kick myself for saying it, but," at this, he took in a breath, "I want to wait."
"Wait?"
"At least until we get to know each other better."
"You want to wait." Meredith stepped up to Travis, getting close enough to touch, yet not putting a hand on him. "Why? What are you afraid of?"
"Me? I'm not afraid of anything."
"Bullshit. I've never seen a man run from something so hard in my life." Now she did touch him, dancing a hand up his chest. "I'm just a woman from Indiana. How can I scare you?"
"You..." He started to say "you don't" then realized he'd be lying. She did scare him. Her and everything she came packaged with. "You're the kind of woman who deserves a man who's going to put a ring on your finger."
"I had a man who offered that. I didn't want it." She placed her second hand against his torso and in an instant the heat from her palms transferred onto his skin, as if she'd branded him as hers.
"What about you? What are you afraid of?"
He saw the surprise light in her eyes at him turning the tables on her. Her touch faltered and she stepped away, turning toward the windows in his apartment. He had a crappy view out the second floor of his living room, but she seemed to suddenly find the brick facade of the building next door and the metal stairs of the fire escape interesting as hell. "I'm not afraid of anything. Except..."
When she didn't finish the sentence, he came around to the front of her, planting himself between Meredith and the view he'd never cared about until now. For a second, he wished his apartment looked out over the Boston Gardens or a park or something serene and pretty. Anything bu
t stark, hard brick that seemed as cold as his life had been before he met Meredith.
"Except what?"
A corner of her mouth lifted up. "We're a lot alike, aren't we?"
He blinked at the change in direction of the conversation. "Us? How so?"
"We both want to use people without caring about them."
The words hit him like a sucker punch from Mike Tyson. Was that how she saw him?
And was that how he really was?
She let out a gust and twisted away. "You don't want me. I don't even know why I'm here."
"I do want you." He touched her shoulder and turned her back toward him. "More than I've wanted anyone."
"Right. I'm just some boring Indiana girl with no experience. I'd probably be a good snooze in bed compared to the women you've been with." She jerked her head away, but not before he saw a shimmer in her eyes.
"Is that what you think?" Travis circled around Meredith, until the two of them stood before the full-length mirror mounted against his wall. She couldn't hide her face from him if she wanted to now. "You're wrong, Meredith."
"Am I?" She jerked off his shirt, the two buttons he'd done up popping off and scattering against the wood floor, clicking and rolling under the bed. "Then why didn't this make you want me?"
Then she turned on her heel and strode out of his room, grabbing her clothes and leaving his apartment without even bothering to put them on.
This was why he needed to swear off women. Because he couldn't please them when he was being a jerk and he didn't make them any happier when he was being a gentleman.
What the hell did women want, anyway?
Candace's Leap-Before-You-Look Coquilles St. Jacques
4 tablespoons butter, divided
1/2 pound mushrooms, diced
2 shallots, chopped
1 tablespoon fresh parsley, chopped
1-1/2 pounds scallops
3/4 cup dry white wine
1-1/2 cups cold water
1/4 teaspoon fennel seeds
Tabasco
3 tablespoons flour
1/4 cup heavy cream
Salt and pepper
Pinch nutmeg
1 cup Swiss cheese, grated
If you're going to make a major, life-changing decision, you need a fancy dish to help you do it. Preheat your broiler. In a saucepan, melt one tablespoon of the butter, adding the shallots, parsley and scallops. Cook for a minute, then add the wine and season. Bring to a boil, just like your great idea to up and run off, then turn it down to a simmer for two minutes— you need a clear head before you leap into a huge decision like that.
Remove the scallops and set aside. Add the water, then the fennel and a couple drops of Tabasco. Cook for a few minutes over high heat, bringing all the flavors together just like you're bringing all your life decisions together into one place.
In a separate pan, melt the remaining butter, add the flour and salt and pepper, then slowly stir in the cooking liquid from the other pan, the cream and the nutmeg. Bring to a boil, then simmer sauce over low heat for five minutes until thickened.
Place the scallops in scallop shells or on a pie plate. Cover with sauce and—yummy, yummy—top with cheese. Broil until it's as gooey and delicious as your new adventure promises to be.
Chapter Seventeen
"We set a date!" The squeal of feminine joy rocked through Gift Baskets to Die For on Friday morning, interrupting the preparation of seven thousand orange marmalade thumbprints for the upcoming Halloween on the Harbor festivities.
In the little shop off Atlantic Avenue, cookies always took a back seat to news involving diamonds and men in tuxedoes.
Amid all that happiness, Meredith stood in the kitchen of the shop, deep in cookie dough, and felt something sharp hit her in the chest. She told herself it was only because she'd left Travis Thursday night without looking back and was now stupidly expecting ...
What? A phone call? A hot pursuit?
That wasn't supposed to be the plan. She had intended to love him and leave him. No pain, no heartache.
And especially none of that high school crush waiting by the phone stuff.
Yet her gaze lingered anyway on the cream-colored phone hanging on the wall. She shook herself, went back to the dough, and returned her attention to Maria. Meredith knew all about Dante Del Rosso, the restaurant owner who had won Maria's heart a few months ago. Candace had told Meredith the whole story over lunch yesterday.
"Congratulations!" Candace said, extending a quick hug before pulling the first batch of cookies from the oven. "When?"
"The third Saturday in June."
Candace slid the cookies onto a cookie sheet. "That's wonderful. I'm so happy for you."
Maria smiled. "Thanks."
"Ditto from me," Meredith added, now finished mixing the cookie dough. She dumped the empty bowl into the sink and washed her hands. "I met Dante yesterday morning when he stopped by to order some chocolates for his restaurant. He's quite the guy."
"He'd have to be, for me to choose him," Maria said, grinning. She turned to Candace, a hand on her hip. "Now that we've got a wedding date nailed down, it's your turn, Miss Procrastinator."
"I'm not procrastinating. Exactly."
"Well, what are you waiting for? Michael proposed over a year ago. He'd marry you tomorrow if you'd just put that dress on and find an aisle. Hell, at this point, I think the man wouldn't care if you walked down an alley and married him in a burlap sack."
Candace laughed. "No, I don't think he would. It's just..." She sighed. "I don't want the circus I had the last time I was engaged."
"Then don't have it." Meredith clamped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry. Uninvited opinion. I have a habit of doing that."
"Hey, giving your opinion is one of the few benefits around here. It's even better than our health insurance plan." Maria grinned.
"Meredith, what did you mean when you said, don't have it?" Candace said.
"Well... Why not just run off and get married in Vegas or something? Why have the big to-do?"
"Because—"
"Because other people expect it?" Meredith leaned against the sink and dried her hands on a towel. "That's how I used to be. Then I ran away. More or less."
"Well, we're glad you ran here because you make damned good cookies," Maria said, reaching for one of the thumbprint bases cooling on a wire rack. "Orders are up twenty percent for these."
"You know, you're right," Candace said to Meredith, taking a seat in one of the stools. She put her chin in her hands and thought for a second. "I should just do it. I mean, the wedding is really about Michael and me. If my mother and grandma want to attend a big wedding—"
"They can come to mine," Maria piped in. "Mamma's already invited the entire North End. We're going to have to rent out a concert hall for the reception. Or an airplane hanger." She laughed.
"Then that's what I'm going to do." Candace got to her feet, dusted off her hands on her apron and started putting away the containers of flour and sugar. "Soon as I can get a day off."
Meredith understood that craving for spontaneity and decided she'd help Candace, no matter what it took. "Listen, we have things under control here," Meredith said. "Don't we, Maria?"
"Of course we do. No big orders on the books. Halloween orders are just about all done and filled. I say it's time you got on a plane with that hunk of a man and married him."
"Just run off to Vegas and elope, huh?" Candace's eyes shone with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.
Meredith had felt that herself, just a few days ago when she'd run away from Heavendale to come to Boston for more.
And thus far, all her plans had backfired. She refused to dwell on that. There was time to still make those changes, to shed Meredith Shordon, Farm Girl, and turn her into someone who called her own shots, without interference from mothers, brothers ... or anyone else.
"Hey, there's nothing better to cure perpetual planner syndrome than eloping," Maria said, drapi
ng an arm over her friend's shoulder. "Not to mention the awesome sex you'll have from all the excitement of doing this on the spur of the moment."
"Michael does like a surprise ..."
"Then give him one he'll never forget." Maria winked. "But be sure to get a few pictures for those of us left here slaving away in the kitchen."
"I'll do better than that. I'll save you my bouquet."
"Not for me." Maria put up her hands. "I'm practically married already. I think that honor goes to Meredith."
"Whoa. No way. The last thing I'm looking for in Boston is a husband."
Maria and Candace exchanged glances. "Funny. That's exactly what we said."
"Where's our spokesmodel?" Larry asked on Friday morning, the minute Travis arrived at work.
Travis poured a cup of coffee from the pot in the break room, taking his time because he had an overwhelming urge to stuff Larry's apricot toupee from last November down his throat and watch him choke on it. "I don't know."
"You can't let her run out on us. We need her for the No-Moo Milk campaign. The president has already approved my ad ideas."
Travis wheeled around. "You ran an ad campaign by him without bringing in Kenny and me?"
Larry shrugged, reaching past Travis to grab two packets of sugar. He tore the tops off and dumped them into his red "Watch Out: Hot Stuff" mug, then stirred his sugar-coffee with a plastic spork. "Couldn't wait around for you two to get on the stick."
"You mean you wanted to get credit before we could get to work today."
Larry took a sip, then gave Travis a little smile. "Early bird gets the worm."
Travis would be willing to bet Larry hadn't been up half the night, unable to sleep because he'd been reliving the afternoon with Meredith and wishing he hadn't had an attack of conscience at the worst possible time. He'd finally fallen asleep sometime after four in the morning, then missed his alarm. Kenny had spent the night at Delia's house and woken Travis when he came by for a shower and a change of clothes before work.