“Thank you,” Poppy said. “I love crème brûlée!”
“I’m thinking he knows that,” Mark said, smiling.
Mark was amazed at himself—astonished that he wasn’t simply furious or at least humiliated to the core. Yet he wasn’t. Oh, certainly he knew what he was missing out on—Poppy Amore was a diamond nestled in a bucket full of coal. Still, he suspected that this Swaggart guy was about as in love with Poppy as any man was with any woman. For some reason, Mark was okay with it. He didn’t, however, want to linger too long. If he lingered any longer with the beautiful Poppy Amore before him, he might not be okay with it.
“What do you say we eat dessert and then call it a night?” Mark asked.
Poppy was so relieved. She wanted nothing more than to go home and think about Swaggart. Mark had handled the whole situation so well—it was amazing in fact. And now that the truth was out, what reason did either one of them have to linger?
“That sounds great to me,” Poppy said. “Though I do feel bad about your having spent so much on tickets to this.”
Mark smiled, a guilty look owning his expression. “I expensed them,” he said. “I had to come to this anyway, and I just thought it might be a way to impress you too.”
Poppy giggled. “Well, at least you’re honest,” she said.
“Most of the time,” Mark said.
Poppy sighed as she took the first bite of crème brûlée. It was marvelous! Rich and sweet, not very unlike Swaggart’s kiss. Oh, how she hoped in those moments she would taste Swaggart’s kiss again, feel his arms around her, see his handsome face every day for the rest of forever.
She thought of Swaggart there, in the kitchen, so close to where she sat. She smiled. He was so secretive about his “gigs,” as he liked to call them. She wondered for a moment what he did with all the money he made from them. She wondered if he had any others lined up. If she volunteered to work for him during one, would he hire her?
As she walked with Mark toward his car twenty minutes later, Poppy wished she could simply turn and run back to the convention center. She just wanted to see Swaggart, just to see him, that was all. She would be happy with that—just one look at him before leaving.
She glanced over and saw his old pickup parked three spaces away from Mark’s Beamer. It was proof she hadn’t imagined the meal she’d eaten, hadn’t imagined the special serving of crème brûlée he’d sent out to her.
“I saw that truck in the parking lot of your restaurant today,” Mark said as he followed her gaze. “And I’m wondering—would you rather just skip the ride home with me and hitch a ride with the local Chef Extraordinaire?”
Of course she would rather ride home with Swaggart than with Mark! But how could she possibly admit it? Furthermore, what if Swaggart had plans or was too tired to give her a lift? She thought about it for a moment. If Swaggart were too busy, or if she chickened out in waiting for him all together, she had her cell—she could just call Whitney to come and get her.
“You really are a wonderful guy, Mark,” Poppy said.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to say, ‘You’ll make someone a wonderful husband someday,’” he said, smiling at her.
Poppy laughed. “But you will.”
“Just not you, I guess, huh?” he asked.
Poppy’s smile faded. “No,” she whispered.
“Well, can I at least beg one more good-night kiss?” Mark asked.
Instantly Poppy was nervous. She didn’t want him to press her. It was over, and she just wanted it to be all the way over.
“A cheek will do,” he added, obviously sensing her discomfort.
Poppy grinned and nodded. “Thanks for being so—”
“Oh, sheesh! Don’t you dare give me the ‘thanks for being so understanding’ thing,” he said. He smiled at her and added, “In fact, I’ll make it easy for you.” He took her face in his hands then, kissing her squarely on the right cheek.
“All right, that’s enough!” Swaggart growled. He seemed to appear from nowhere, taking hold of the back of Mark’s tux jacket and yanking him away from Poppy.
“Swaggart!” Poppy gasped. Her heart leapt in her chest, frenzied butterflies suddenly wildly looping-the-loop in her stomach.
“Hey, man!” Mark said, pulling out of Swaggart’s grasp. “Cool off. I was just saying good bye.”
“You’ve said good bye enough,” Swaggart growled.
“Swaggart,” Poppy said. Although she was delighted by his obvious jealousy, she was disturbed by the barely restrained violence she sensed in him. She stepped between Mark and Swaggart as Swaggart took an aggressive step toward Mark.
“I-I was wondering if you could give me a ride home, Swaggart,” she said. She watched as Swaggart’s angry glare left Mark and settled on her.
“A ride?” Swaggart asked.
“You win, man,” Mark said, smiling at Poppy then. “I never even had a chance. Bye, Poppy,” he said. Swaggart watched, obviously confused as Mark got into his car and drove away.
“Well?” Poppy asked when Swaggart looked back to her. “Can you give me a ride home?”
“What’s going on?” Swaggart asked. “I thought you were out with this guy because you—”
“I went out with him because I had to tell him I couldn’t go out with him anymore,” Poppy said. Her heart was hammering so hard in her chest it hurt. She had to know! She had to know if Swaggart cared for her—truly, madly, and deeply cared for her the way she did him.
“Why?” Swaggart asked.
Poppy knew it was taking a minute for his anger to subside.
“Because…because you can’t date someone…you shouldn’t date someone when…when you only want to be with someone else,” she managed. She was going to faint—she was sure of it! What would he do? What would he say? Would he tell her he only valued her as a friend? Would he tell her he wasn’t ready to get serious with anyone?
“Who’s the someone else you’d rather be with, baby?” he asked.
She looked away, to her feet, to the parking lot pavement beneath them—wondering how badly it would hurt when she fainted and fell to it.
When she felt his hand softly caress her cheek, she looked up to find him staring at her. His frown had faded, yet he didn’t smile. Still, his eyes were warm and syrupy, alluring, mesmerizing.
“Is it me?” he asked.
Poppy nodded, feeling tears welling in her eyes.
“Why?” he asked. “Why me instead of that rich, handsome guy you just blew off?”
She would tell him! She would! Though it might mean the greatest heartache and pain she’d ever know.
“Because I love you,” she whispered.
Poppy looked up to see Swaggart’s brow pucker with a frown. He seemed to study her eyes, and when she tried to look away, he took her face between his strong hands, forcing her to look at him.
“You just said the ‘L’ word,” he mumbled.
“I-I’m sorry, Swaggart,” she stammered as her tears escaped her eyes and traveled over her cheeks. “I’m sorry…but I can’t just…”
“You just said you love me,” he mumbled.
“I’m sorry,” Poppy whispered. “I didn’t mean to…” He didn’t love her! He didn’t!
But just as Poppy was certain her heart would break in two, she gasped as the heated, moist flavor of Swaggart’s mouth met her own. He was ravenous in kissing her—demanding, thirsting, passionate, and Poppy’s heartache bowed to elation, euphoric bliss.
Abruptly, he broke the seal of their lips, the warm syrup of his eyes burning into her own. Taking her hand, he pulled her toward his pickup, pushing her back against it as his mouth endeavored to own hers entirely again. Poppy let her hands travel across the broad expanse of his shoulders, caress his neck, to finally be lost in the softness of his dark hair. Instantly, Swaggart’s kiss deepened, his hands tightening around her waist until she thought her ribs might give way and break beneath the power of them.
After a time, hi
s mouth left hers, lingering at her neck just below her ear.
“Say you’re mine,” he whispered. “Tell me you belong to me—because I love you, Poppy. I’ve loved you for so long.”
Poppy felt more tears spill from her eyes as he drew her against him, embracing her and whispering words of confessed love to her.
“Tell me again,” he whispered. “Tell me you finally love me too.”
“I love you, Swaggart,” she whispered. “I’ve loved you forever—I swear it.”
He pulled back a little in order to look into her eyes. He smiled, and she noted the excess moisture in his eyes.
“Then kiss me because—I’m at heaven’s door, inamorata,” he said.
Poppy smiled, delighted by his quoting the song that had been playing in Good Ol’ Days the night he’d first kissed her.
“I love you, Swaggart,” she whispered.
“I love you, Poppy—inamorata,” he said a moment before his lips met hers once more.
Swaggart Moretti loved her! Poppy could not believe it! She still feared she would wake up to find she’d dreamed it all. But as the warmth of Swaggart’s kiss melded with her own, she knew no dream could be so perfect.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“All day,” Swaggart said. He bent and quickly kissed her neck. “All day tomorrow—you’re mine, remember?”
“All day—you’re mine, remember?” Poppy said, smiling at him.
“I gotta get back to work,” Swaggart said, kissing her quickly on the mouth once more. “Bobby? What are you burning in there?” Swaggart called to his cousin as he pushed the kitchen door open.
Poppy sighed. Her arms were covered in goose bumps, and she still couldn’t believe any of it! She couldn’t believe she’d confessed her love to Swaggart almost a week before. Tomorrow it would be a week—one week since Swaggart had told her he loved her in the parking lot of the convention center—and they had planned to spend the whole day together. Poppy marveled, still amazed at the fact she’d kissed Swaggart every day since their mutual confession. Kissing him every day only made her want to kiss him every hour, and she wondered how she would endure another eight hours without him when she went home after her shift.
“Wow!” Whitney said as Poppy approached the hostess podium. “Can you believe this crowd?” she asked.
“It is Friday night,” Poppy reminded her friend.
“I know, but look how packed we are!” Whitney said.
“There seems to be a ton of regulars too,” Poppy said. “I see Ms. Rhonda Andrews is here to check the eye-candy named Swaggart Moretti,” she whispered.
“I wonder if she’ll be disappointed when she finds out that you and Swaggart finally got your act together and—and got your act together?” Whitney teased.
“I don’t know,” Poppy said. “But I’ll bet it won’t stop her from flirting.”
“Oh, I’m sure it won’t,” Whitney agreed. “David—party of five?” Whitney called.
Five young men looking to be about Swaggart’s age stepped up to the podium. The tallest one said, “I’m David—and what’s your name, cookie?”
Whitney plastered on a pleasant smile and said, “Actually, I’m Whitney. This is Poppy, and she’ll be your server this evening.”
“Oooo!” one of the other young men said. “Poppy!”
“Have fun,” Whitney muttered to Poppy as she handed her five menus.
“If you’ll follow me, gentlemen,” Poppy said.
“To the ends of the earth, gorgeous,” one of the young men said.
After seating the men at table ten, Poppy endured the nightmare of taking their order. They were the worst bunch of insinuating flirts Poppy had ever encountered in her two years at Good Ol’ Days!
“I need the ring,” Poppy told Whitney after delivering the drink orders to the five flirts at table ten. “I think these guys are drunk or something! They’re awful!”
Whitney grimaced and whispered, “Brittany’s got a rotten bunch of guys at table twelve, and I already gave her the ring.”
“Oh, no,” Poppy whined. “These guys are going to drive me crazy—I can already tell.”
“Do you want to switch a table with Josh?” Whitney asked.
“Nah,” Poppy said. “I can handle it.”
Inhaling a deep breath of courage and resolve not to appear affected by the men’s flirting, Poppy headed back to table ten.
“Any appetizers for you gentlemen this evening?” she asked.
“Are you on the appetizer menu, honey?” one of the men said.
“Nope,” Poppy told them. “But we’ve got great chips and salsa.”
“Hot salsa?” one of the men asked.
“Is the salsa as hot as you?” another asked.
“Did you gentlemen need another minute to look at the appetizer menu? I can come back in a minute?” Poppy said.
“Can’t you just stay here with us?” one said.
“Yeah! Can’t you just sit down here and—” one man began.
He was interrupted, however, when Swaggart said, “Hey, baby,” and kissed her on the cheek.
Poppy smiled. Swaggart must’ve been greeting a Chef’s Choice order and seen her struggling with the group of young men. How chivalrous!
“Baby, you left this on the counter—I wanted to make sure you didn’t lose it,” he said. Poppy smiled as he took her hand and slipped a ring onto her left ring finger.
“Thanks, baby,” she said. She had no idea where Swaggart had gotten his hands on such a beautiful diamond solitaire, but she didn’t care. She wondered for a moment if he’d begged it off Ms. Rhonda Andrews. No doubt Rhonda Andrews would do anything for the handsome chef of her choice.
“Man!” one of the men at table ten exclaimed with disappointment. “You mean you’re married?”
“Engaged, actually,” Swaggart said. “To yours truly.”
“You’re lucky, dude,” one of the other young men said. “She’s hot!”
“Thanks,” Swaggart said. “I think so too.” He smiled at Poppy and kissed her on the mouth, right there in front of everyone in the restaurant. “See you later, baby.”
“Okay,” Poppy said. She watched him head toward the kitchen, giggling with delight when he paused at Rhonda Andrew’s table and did a little of his “Risqué Martin” routine.
“I guess we better lay off,” one of the young men said. “I wouldn’t want to mess with that guy.”
“Probably not,” Poppy said.
Swaggart’s appearance had settled the young men at table ten way down. Each man gave Poppy their order without the flirtatious remarks she would’ve endured had Swaggart not shown up with another ring.
As she walked toward the kitchen to give Swaggart and Bobby table ten’s orders, she paused and looked at the ring on her finger. It was so beautiful, and she wondered if it was a real diamond or just a cubic zirconia. Yet, in the dimmed light of the restaurant, the large gemstone shined and sparkled like nothing Poppy had ever seen. It sure looked real. She would have to be sure and thank whichever customer had lent it to Swaggart.
“Five Jiggys,” she called over the order counter. “Two with fries, three with rings,” she added.
“Got it,” Bobby said.
“Where’s Swaggart?” Poppy asked when she didn’t see him behind the counter.
“Oh, he went back out to deliver Rhonda Andrew’s Chef’s Choice himself,” Bobby said.
“Well, when he gets back, tell him thanks—he saved me from who knows what out there,” Poppy said.
“I’m sure he did,” Bobby said, smiling at Poppy.
As she headed back to the hostess podium to see who else needed seating, she saw Swaggart setting a beautiful plate of citrus chicken on the table in front of Rhonda Andrews. Poppy recognized the woman with Rhonda—she’d been there several times with her friend.
Swaggart said something to Rhonda and then turned to see Poppy approaching.
“You saved my bacon,” Poppy whispered to him as he
took hold of her arm as he passed. “Thanks.”
“Well, you know how I love bacon,” Swaggart said. “Especially yours.”
Poppy felt herself blush—felt her arms and legs break out in goose bumps because of his simple touch.
“Where did you get it anyway?” she asked in a whisper.
“What? The ring?” Swaggart asked.
“Yeah. It’s beautiful!” Poppy said. “Who gave it to you?”
“The jeweler,” he said. “But he didn’t give it to me—I bought it.”
“The jeweler?” Poppy giggled.
“Yeah. The one on Holly Street downtown,” Swaggart said. His eyes were warm and bright as he looked at her. She felt as if sweet, warm syrup were being drizzled over her.
“But why would you buy a…” Poppy’s words were lost. As Dean Martin began to croon “You Belong to Me” over the restaurant’s sound system, Swaggart took Poppy in his arms—in dance position. As he began to sway with her, Poppy’s heart began to pound.
“Why would I buy a big diamond ring from a jeweler and then slip it on your finger, you mean?” he asked.
“Y-yeah,” Poppy breathed.
“Because I want you to marry me, and I thought maybe an engagement ring would be a nice touch,” Swaggart said.
Poppy couldn’t breathe! She felt her knees give way beneath her, felt Swaggart’s powerful arms go around her to keep her from slipping to the floor.
“Swaggart,” Poppy said. “Are you…are you…” she stammered. This couldn’t be happening. Wake up, Poppy! Wake up! she thought to herself.
“Will you marry me, Poppy?” he asked. Poppy stared at his mouth as he spoke. “I love you, and I want you to marry me. Will you?”
“Of course,” Poppy said as tears flooded her cheeks. A sudden and powerful sobbing wracked her body for a moment until Swaggart gathered her into his arms, and she heard the cheers and whistles, the applause of the employees and patrons at Good Ol’ Days.
“I love you, inamorata,” Swaggart whispered against her neck.
“I love you, Swaggart,” she cried in a whisper. “You have no idea how much.” She laughed then as he picked her up, spinning her around several times before kissing her with such a passion she thought she might evaporate from the heat of it.
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