by Joyia Marie
Aiden snapped out of his thoughts at the polite knock at the door. He looked at the clock and was pleasantly surprised to see it was only 7:20. Looks like I’m not the only one who’s eager, he told himself with a smile.
He walked to the door, determined not to go one step further with Helen until he had some answers. This was ridiculous to be so drawn to a woman he knew next to nothing about. He planted his questions firmly in his head, wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on the back of his jeans, and opened the door.
All his questions faded away as he looked at Helen’s face. Damn, what a face, the man and the artist in him said with a sigh. He could easily picture her as Helen of Troy. Her face would launch a thousand ships at least. He got an idea for a painting of her as Helen of Troy. He could easily see her tall slender frame draped in a toga.
“Hey,” Helen said uncertainly when he just stood there staring at him. “I hope this is okay. My being a little early.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine,” Aiden said, shaking off his stupor and standing back to let her in. She gave him a grateful smile, but her eyes looked a little sad. He felt a protective urge swell up in him and he longed to take her in his arms to shelter her from life’s storms.
He backed away before his urges overcame his good sense. It was always like this around her, he thought. Away from her, he could think clearly, but around her and the tantalizing fragrance she wore all he wanted to do was get his hands on her. ‘No’, he told his screaming libido and ignored the swelling in his jeans. Dinner. Client. Answers. He reminded himself of his mission.
“Grab a seat and I’ll get us something from the kitchen. Wine okay?” he asked as he heading into the kitchen.
“Yeah, but just one glass, I still have to drive,” Helen said from her seat on the couch.
He peeked in and saw her head laid back against the back of his couch as if she was too weary to hold it up any longer. He wondered what had happened since he talked to her. Earlier, she was happy and bubbly like all was right with the world. Now she looked like that same world had kicked her ass and handed to her on a platter.
“Here are your wine and a little something to nibble on,” he said as he walked into the living room to join her. He set the tray of appetizers down and deftly poured two glasses of wine from the uncorked bottle. He handed one to Helen and retained his own. He toasted her silently and they both took shallow sips.
“Oh my God, that’s good,” she moaned after her sip. “What is that? It tastes like liquid sunshine.”
“It’s Piesporter, a German Riesling,” Aiden said with a smile. He was glad he had made the effort to find it. Most liquor stores didn’t carry it, but his kept a case for him. After this reaction, he made a note to bring the rest of the case home. He wanted her to come to him for more ‘liquid sunshine’.
“Piesporter,” Helen repeated as if to burn the name into her mind. She set her glass down and grabbed a stuffed mushroom off the tray. “Oh my God,” she moaned again as the seafood stuffing hit her tongue.
Aiden loved the fact she was enjoying what he prepared, but he wished she’d stop moaning like that. It was taking all his resolve not to throw her over his shoulder and take her upstairs to his freshly made bed. The vision of her delicate olive skin against his blue satin sheets was enough to make his artistic soul sing.
“Where did you get these?” she asked around a mouthful of her second mushroom.
“I made them,” he said proudly, loving the way her dark eyes widened. It made the prep time worth it. He didn’t go all out in his cooking often, but when he did, he liked to be appreciated. Helen was an appreciative audience. He watched with a smile as Helen devoured another two mushrooms in quick succession.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said when she saw Aiden watching her and not eating himself. “This is the first thing I have to eat all day and I guess I forgot my manners. But these are really good.”
“No, I like watching you eat. You go after it. Too many women pick at their food like eating somehow makes them less feminine,” Aiden said as he set down his wine to dive in himself.
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Aiden
“So why haven’t you eaten today? Rough day?” he asked after he consumed his mushroom.
Good, he thought absently, but needs a tiny bit more pepper. Aiden freely admitted his recipes were works in progress and rarely did anything come out the same way twice. Fortunately, he had enough experience now to know what tweaks to make so it always came out edible. Some of his earlier tweaks were less than successful, he remembered with a shudder.
“Yeah, you could say that,” Helen said with a sigh, sinking back into the couch again. “One piece of advice, if you ever get married, make sure it’s for keeps. Divorce is a bitch.”
“Husband being a bit of a pain?” Aiden said casually, glad at least this question was getting answered.
He took heart in the fact she had actually filed, but he hated the hurt, vulnerable look in her eyes. He wanted to ask why, but he didn’t want to ruin the evening. The look in her eyes said that was a distinct possibility.
“Look, I don’t want to talk about all that. I’m sure you have problems of your own,” Helen said briskly seeming to throw off her earlier sadness.
“Yeah, but if you need someone to talk to, I’d be happy to be a sounding board. Never been married so I’ve never been divorced, but I can at least listen,” Aiden offered.
“I appreciate it. However, I think that’s part of the problem right now. Too many people to talk to about this and everybody has an opinion of what I should do. Can we just table this for right now and just enjoy the evening?” Helen asked, the sincerity in her eyes.
Aiden sighed inwardly, what could he say to that. Yeah, he wanted some answers but not enough to drag them out of her. He had time. Nothing could or would happen with them until her divorce was final. On that, they agreed and that could be up to a year.
His friend, Jake was working on his for close to two years. He and his ex were still fighting. Jake had three kids that his ex was holding hostage for more child support.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” he said with a smile. “Heavy conversation ruins your digestion anyway and I want you to enjoy your dinner. So eat up,” he said, motioning at the still half-filled tray of mushrooms.
“Nope, I’m good. I want to save some room for what I smell coming out of your kitchen,” Helen said, retrieving her wine glass and snuggling back into his couch.
Aiden’s mouth got dry as he pictured joining her on that couch and taking the kiss that’s been dancing in his mind for days. He finished his mushroom, then popped up, heading toward the kitchen. He needed to get away from her and the lovely picture she made or he knew he’d be following his impulses.
“It’s paella,” he said over his shoulder as he gave the simmering dish a last stir before turning off the flame.
“Oh, I love paella,” Helen said from directly behind him.
Aiden jumped, he hadn’t even heard her move. He looked at her face, but her eyes were on the pot he was stirring. She licked her lips like a kid with an ice cream cone and Aiden’s jeans got tighter.
“Let me put up the mushrooms if you’re finished and we can eat,” Aiden said, moving around her and into the living room.
Okay, he told himself, have to stay away from her or married or not, he would be kissing her. He gave a rueful smile at his lack of control. No woman had ever affected him like this and he wasn’t sure that he liked it.
“Is there anything I can do to help,” Helen said from behind him again.
Damn, she moves like a cat, he thought. He thought she was still in the kitchen. He looked down at the sneakers she wore and thought they were truly living up to their name. Aiden took a step back and Helen gave him a confused look.
“No, I’ve got it. Why don’t you take our glasses to the table and I’ll put these away and dish up the food,” he said quickly.
“Is there something wrong?” Helen said with a frown at the
look on his sweaty face.
“No,’ Aiden snapped, then sighed. “Look, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I’m just going to be honest with you. I’m very attracted to you and it’s all I can do to keep my hands off you. Putting my hands on you is not an option because you’re married. So just bear with me and let me work this out.”
Helen looked at him for a long moment. Then a radiant smile broke out on her face. “That’s about the sweetest thing a man has ever said to me,” she said softly.
He frowned and wondered what kind of idiot her husband was not to see how great Helen was. She was smart, funny, articulate, and beautiful. If she were his, he’d spend every day of his life telling her that.
He frowned deeper when Helen moved closer. “What are you doing?” he asked in a strangled tone of voice. Hadn’t he just told her he was holding onto control by a string? Was she trying to test that?
“Nothing,” she said with a luminous smile. “Just this,” she said then brushed her lips across his, her soft hand cradling his cheek.
“I’m not trying to start anything we can’t finish right now, but I just wanted you to know, I’m attracted to you too. I wanted to thank you for the lovely compliment. I just wanted to kiss you one more time before we slip into friend mode,” Helen said her face a breath away from his.
Aiden looked at her for a long moment, then a big grin broke over his face. He gripped Helen’s arms and said, “Well then if that was one for the road, then let’s make it count.” He slipped his mouth over hers and kissed her as if his life depended on it.
Their lips met and their tongues dueled as they tried to sate a hunger that couldn’t be sated with a kiss. He pulled away when she moaned and her hands slipped down his back to cup his ass. He leaned his forehead against hers and sighed.
“Damn, it’s going to be a long year,” he said ruefully.
“A year?” Helen said in confusion. “My lawyer says this can be wrapped up in about 90 days if Harold and I can get everything hammered out.”
“Can you?” Aiden asked. He sighed as the sad look came back into her eyes. “Never mind. 3 months or a year, either way it’s not today. “So I think, friend,” Aiden stated with emphasis on the last word. “We need to eat before the food gets cold.”
Helen nodded and the soft skin on her forehead moved silkily against his. He sighed again, then set her away from him. They looked at each other for a long moment before turning to the dining room.
“It looks good,” Helen said brightly, trying to alleviate the tension in the air.
“ Let’s hope it tastes good,” Aiden said just as brightly. “I should have asked, but I’ll ask now, anything you allergic to? That has all kinds of seafood in it. Not that you couldn’t stand to gain a few pounds, but I’d hate to see you swell up like a balloon.”
Helen raised a brow at his comment on her weight, but let it go. “No, I’m good. No food allergies here. Which I am eternally grateful for. I would hate to miss this.”
Aiden served a heaping spoonful of the meal and smiled when she waved him to add more. She held up a hand to stop him before he added a third.
“No, that is just fine,” she said, picking up her fork. “For starters.”
Aiden served himself, then bowed his head for a silent prayer. He noticed Helen watched respectfully but didn’t join him. He added that to his growing list of questions about this mysterious writer.
Helen took a bite, then gave what Aiden was beginning to see was her appreciative moan of good food. He took it as a compliment and ignored the way it made his groin tighten. He took a bite and was pleased with the way the dish had come out. The rice was nice and fluffy and the seafood perfectly cooked. Even his fussy palate couldn’t find anything to complain about.
The next few minutes were filled with few words and much eating. Helen finished her portion with the last of her wine. He got her a bottle of water for her next serving which she consumed with gusto. When he offered a third she held up a hand, her other hand across her flat belly.
“No, I’m good,” she said with a satisfied moan. “That was good.”
“Glad you liked it. You’re more than welcome to take some home, if that place you are staying has a refrigerator,” Aiden said as he finished his own dinner.
“Oh, it does, and oh I will. You made enough to feed an army,” Helen said as she looked at the still brimming pan.
Aiden flushed, “habit. There were six of us growing up and I got used to cooking to feed an army. Good think I like leftovers.”
“Yeah, good thing,” Helen said with a laugh. “Wow, six of you? What was that like? I’m an only child and my father was out of the picture early so it was just my mom and me.”
“Fun, crowded, aggravating, exasperating. You name it and I’ve probably experienced that emotion with my family. But I wouldn’t change a thing. I couldn’t imagine it any other way,” Aiden said thoughtful realizing it was true. Sure, growing up with so many siblings was a pain sometimes, but he loved his sisters to death.
“Wow, I envy you that, but I also wouldn’t change a thing. My mom is great. She’s a photographer and really dedicated to her work, but equally dedicated to me if that makes any sense. If I needed her I had her total focus,” Helen said her head leaned back in her chair.
“A photographer? What, you mean like wedding and graduations?” Aiden asked casually. His younger sister was getting married in the spring and maybe he could shoot Helen’s mother some work if she did that kind of thing.
Helen gave him a queer smile, “uh not exactly. She’s a nature photographer, like Ansel Adams.”
“Really,” Aiden said with more interest. “She any good? Have I ever seen any of her work? What’s her name?”
“Vivian Dudley,” Helen said proudly, the name the answer to all, his questions. She grinned when his eyes bugged out again.
Aiden’s chair shot back when he jumped up. “Wait, wait right here,” he said, waving her back into her seat. Helen gave him a smile of compliance even thought she hadn’t moved.
Aiden ran up the stairs and tore through his closet, he noted the clothes was washed and put away per his service level agreement. He flipped thought the hangers until he found the T-shirt he was looking for. Holding it up in triumph, he marched down the stairs the shirt proudly displayed before him.
“I knew I had it somewhere,” he said with a grin. The shirt was a print of a butterfly standing on leaf of grass. The colors were vibrant and the amazing clarity, even on a T-shirt. The image was simple, but the genius behind the shot was evident.
“Ah, Beauty,” Helen said, naming the well-known shot. “Mother worked for months to get that shot. That butterfly is a new species and surprisingly shy. Wearable Art worried her for months before she agreed to a line of T-shirts bearing her prints.”
“Wow, the women in your family are talented,” Aiden said, admiration clear in his voice. ‘Are the men just as talented or do they just bring home the bacon and carry photography equipment.”
Helen’s peaceful expression turned sad again. “I wish I knew about the first part anyway. The second speaks for itself as they aren’t around.”
Aiden dropped the T-shirt suddenly feeling awkward. He draped it over a chair, then returned to his seat. “ Well, I know your grandmother’s story…” he began and stopped when Helen laughed.
“Yeah, I think the whole world knows about Grandma Gert,” Helen said, exasperation and pride warring in her voice.
“I guess I could see why your grandfather might not feel welcome… after,” Aiden said slowly trying to tip toe through this minefield. Grandma Gert, he wondered then put it away the rest of his questions. “But what happened with your dad?”
“That would be the million dollar question,” Helen said wearily. “He took off when I was about a baby and I haven’t seen nor heard from him since.
“His parents?” Aiden asked quietly.
“No idea, mother, wasn’t real sure on the detail
s. I think they may be dead but don’t hold me to that,” Helen said cynically.
“Did your parents’ divorce?” Aiden asked sympathetically.
“ Not so much. They were never married. They were ‘hand-fasted’ but I’m not sure of the legal ramifications of that,” Helen said with a weak chuckle.
Aiden could feel his eyes widen. He thought he was cosmopolitan but this was outside his realm of expertise. He knew marriage or living together, but what was hand fasting?
Aiden moved over to the couch and grabbed her hand. He couldn’t bear seeing her look so lost and lonely. He could hold her hand as a friend, he told himself, ignoring how good her hand felt in his. She smiled and played with his fingers, her expression lightening considerably.
“Looks like you had to pitch in again,” she said, as she flicked a paint fleck in his nail bed.
Chapter Thirty-Nine: Aiden
Aiden flushed. He hadn’t held a paintbrush at work for days. The flecks of paint on his hand were from his artwork. Suddenly his reticence seemed foolish. If anyone would understand, it was this woman.
“About that,” he said slowly.
“Let me guess, you don’t actually own a contracting company, you’re a painter with delusions of grandeur,” she said with a smile.
He raised a brow the question. Why would she doubt him? Hadn’t he just made the bid for her loft? Not many painters did that. Or was she trying to make sure his finances were in order?
“Would it make a difference?” he asked quietly.
“Not in the least,” she said with confidence, “one of my best friend’s is a hair dresser and the other is my literary agent. I could care less what my friends do.”
He winced at the ‘F’ word, but understood the point. “Really? A hairdresser? Where does she work? My sister Sheila is the assistant for some big stylist named Raphael.”
Helen looked at him with wide eyes, “Oh my God, my friend is Raphael. I know Sheila. You two don’t look anything alike.”