Take Me I'm Yours (Coffee House Chronicles)

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Take Me I'm Yours (Coffee House Chronicles) Page 4

by Michelle Miles


  But he couldn’t say any of that and he knew it.

  Feeling like an idiot, Graeme dropped his hand, stepping away from her and shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

  “I shouldn’t have done that, Marion. I’m sorry.”

  She bit her lip and blinked. Her silence nearly drove him mad, throwing him into damage control.

  “I hope we can at least be friends,” he offered. If he couldn’t have her in his bed, it was better than not having her at all in his life. He lost her once, he didn’t want to lose her again.

  “Graeme, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

  His heart suddenly tripped in his chest. He never expected her to ask him to dinner and his brain completely shut down. It was his turn to be struck mute.

  “Maybe we can catch up on the last six months of our lives,” she continued. “Unless you’re busy?”

  “I’m not busy and I’d like that. Very much,” he said. He resisted the urge to grin like a fool.

  She reached into her purse for a pen and piece of paper. “Great.” She scrawled something on the paper then handed it to him. “Why don’t you come by about seven?”

  “Sure.”

  And with that she was gone. Nothing more than a whisper in the wind. When she was finally out of his sight, he glanced down at the paper in his hand. She had given him her home address and her telephone number.

  He wondered then if she wanted him to pick her up for dinner out or…stay in. He’d be prepared either way.

  Chapter Four

  Marion swore she could still feel Graeme’s lips on hers. Her heart fluttered at the memory as she walked down the street toward her car. He had tasted faintly of mint and coffee, a flavor somewhat interesting, though not displeasing. And she loved the way his mouth brushed hers in that tentative gentle kiss.

  Running her tongue over her still-tingling lips, she tried to conjure back that whisper of a touch. As she contemplated the way his lips brushed hers, she wished it had been a deep soul-searing kiss. The kind of devastating kiss that could rock her off her axis. And she couldn’t help but wonder what such a kiss would feel like with Graeme.

  Graeme. She had known him for so long and it had never occurred to her to think of him romantically. But now she couldn’t stop thinking of him that way. With that one little kiss, he had awakened the sleeping woman inside her. Her curiosity made her want more from him.

  I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to do that.

  His words flooded back to her and she pressed her hand against her abdomen to still the butterflies. Did that mean what she thought it did? How long had he wanted to do that? Months? Years?

  She had to find out. She had to know. It was exactly why she had blurted out the invitation to dinner.

  Usually, she thought things through before being impulsive. But this time, she allowed her emotions to rule her. She had never asked a man out and now there was no going back.

  She opened her car door and slid inside. Her stomach cramped and something told her this would not be an ordinary let’s-just-be-friends dinner. She did want to catch up on the last few months of their lives. And she did want to spend time with Graeme. And, okay, she wanted to see him naked. On top of her.

  Marion blushed as she stuck the key in the ignition. What was wrong with her? One little kiss and now she wanted him naked on top of her. It was as though she’d been turned into some wanton hussy.

  Maybe there was something intoxicating about blowing off Ethan.

  Or maybe she really liked Graeme.

  Her mind raced with possibilities. She wanted Graeme all to herself. She didn’t want to share his attention with a server. No distractions. They’d wasted enough time waiting for each other and she wanted him all to herself. No going out on the town. No bar hoping. Just a nice home cooked meal and a bottle of wine.

  And possibilities.

  Now she had to figure out what to cook. A culinary whiz she was not. But Delilah was. And Delilah could help her decide what to wear. Both were equally important and both had to be a little spicy and a little sexy.

  But Marion hadn’t the first clue how to seduce a man. Correction, how to seduce Graeme. Friends—bah! Forget that. She wanted Graeme in all his glory. However, she didn’t want to come off as pathetic and needy. Nor did she want to seem desperate.

  In the stifling heat of the car, sweat rolling down her back, she rummaged in her bag for her cell. She snatched it and dialed. Delilah Storm to the rescue.

  “Hey! What’s up?”

  Marion grinned at her friend’s answer. “Hey, Del. I need some help. I’m having a friend over for dinner tonight and—”

  “Wait. What kind of friend? Guy friend?”

  Marion hesitated. “Yes. Guy friend.”

  “Guy friend as in ‘Strictly Platonic Friend’. Or friend as in ‘Let’s Get Naked and Have Fun Friend’. Just so I’m clear.” Only Delilah could come up with that.

  “Um…” Could Marion be that transparent? And how could Delilah glean that from her one use of the word friend. She had only said that for lack of anything better to use.

  “Okay, since it’s the latter—”

  “I never said that!”

  “You paused, Mar. You paused. I can totally tell when you have an I-want-to-get-naked-crush on someone.”

  “How can you tell that in a two-point-three second conversation?”

  “Trust me. I can. It’s your tone of voice.”

  “Well, I don’t want to get naked with him,” Marion protested, even though she knew she wanted to get naked. “He’s a friend. That’s all. Nothing else. A friend.”

  “Uh huh. Sure, he is. You keep telling yourself that and I’ll pretend I don’t hear you. Now, I’d suggest you wear a skirt, thigh-high stockings and the highest heels you have—”

  “Delilah,” Marion groaned. “I swear he’s not that kind of guy. He’s a nice guy.” True, Graeme was a nice guy but she secretly hoped there was a bad boy underneath.

  “Mar, there are two kinds of men in this world. Nice men who want to get you naked and not-so-nice men who want to get you naked.”

  “Graeme isn’t like that.”

  “All men are like that and um, Graeme?” She could hear the recognition in her friend’s voice. “The same Graeme who was best man to the Scumbag Who Shall Remain Nameless?”

  “Right. That one.”

  Delilah heaved a heavy sigh. Marion could picture her exasperation. It made her smile. “Why are you calling me then?” she asked.

  Suddenly her reason for calling seemed ridiculous. She tried to decide how to ask her friend the silly questions cluttering her brain. What was she doing with Graeme? She would have thought he couldn’t want her in a million years, but after that kiss he laid on her, maybe she thought wrong.

  He was good-looking and sweet and…Ethan’s former best friend. Could there potentially be bad blood between them? Could Ethan really cause problems with her and Graeme? Not that she would even consider getting back with Ethan. Not even if he begged. Not even if he crawled to her on his hands and knees over broken glass, stark naked in front of the Pope himself and asked her back.

  “Hello, Marion?”

  “Oh, right. I, uh—”

  “Oh, girl. You need an intervention. I’m on my way.”

  “But I’m not home!” she protested again.

  “Then I’ll meet you there in twenty.”

  * * * * *

  When the doorbell rang, Marion whisked open the door. She had to quickly get out of the way as Delilah stormed by her, leaving a trail of spicy perfume that was her signature scent. As usual, she was dressed to perfection even in a pair of faded blue jeans and a bohemian tunic. Without a greeting, she headed straight for her bedroom.

  “Not even a hello?” Marion gaped after her and finally swung the door shut.

  “No time for that,” Delilah shot over her shoulder. “You have a hot date with a—” She paused, glancing over her shoulder with question i
n her emerald green eyes. “Hot man?”

  “You could say that, yes.”

  “I never thought of Graeme as hot, but okay,” Delilah said with a shrug.

  Neither did I until today, Marion thought. “Anyway, it’s not a date. It’s just dinner.” Oh, sure. She wanted to play it off that way.

  “You mean a non-date?” Delilah raised a brow and gave her a cursory glance, one that said she didn’t really believe her.

  “Something like that.”

  “Right.” Delilah flipped her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder and started walking again. “Seriously, Mar, I don’t know what you’re thinking. You shouldn’t be taking up with him. He was the best man at your wedding, for God’s sake.”

  “The wedding that never took place,” Marion corrected as she followed her friend, hot on her heels. “And it wasn’t Graeme’s fault he left me there. In fact, Graeme is the one that brought me the note, in case you forgot.”

  Delilah threw open her closet door. “No, I didn’t forget. But did you ever wonder why Graeme was the one that did it?”

  “Because Ethan was too chicken shit to do it himself. We both know that. And we were all friends.” Marion folded her arms across her chest, defensive of Graeme.

  “You may have all been friends in the past, Mar, but I think I would be wary of this guy.” She shuffled the clothes on the racks, searching through the garments.

  “For crying out loud, it’s just Graeme,” Marion said and huffed. “He’s harmless.” But, really, she hoped deep down he wasn’t.

  “If he’s so harmless, why is he sniffing around you after all this time?”

  Marion never told Delilah what happened that night at the pool hall. Or all the time they had spent together since the wedding that wasn’t. She didn’t know why. It never seemed like a good time. And she worried Delilah would give her hell about it. Which she was.

  “He’s not sniffing. Ethan is the one that’s sniffing. He showed up at my table when I was having brunch this morning.”

  Delilah halted her rummaging in the closet and spun to face her friend, her eyes wide. “Come again?”

  “He wants to get back together.”

  “And you said…?”

  “No, duh.” Marion rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I walked down the street to this coffee house to get away from Ethan. That’s where I ran into Graeme. It was good to see him again.”

  “I’ll bet.” Delilah still didn’t sound convinced.

  “I asked him to dinner.”

  She turned back to the closet, shaking her head. “I don’t like it. What kind of man willingly breaks the heart of his best friend’s fiancé?”

  “Why are you giving me such a hard time about this?” Marion propped her hands on her hips, frowning.

  Her friend paused and looked at her. “I want you to be careful. That’s all. You’re my best friend. And as dumb as it sounds I love you and I don’t want some jackass fucking with you.”

  Touched, Marion smiled. “I know you care. And I’m glad you do. But Graeme isn’t a jackass. At least, I don’t think so. He’s certainly nothing like Ethan.”

  “And if he turns out to be…well, then he’ll have me to deal with.” Delilah turned back to the racks of clothes. “Now let’s find you something to wear and then I’m taking you grocery shopping.”

  * * * * *

  Forty minutes later, with a pile of clothes in a small mountain on her bed—Delilah said it was to keep them from having sex on the first “non-date”—the outfit was chosen and they were on their way to the local grocery store.

  Delilah picked a black shirt, low cut enough to give him eye candy but still respectable enough for Marion’s taste. It gave the message she was available but not desperate. Or so Delilah said.

  After much argument, Marion chose a pair of form-fitting jeans. She’d wear her favorite comfy shoes since she’d be on her feet cooking.

  “No sexy underwear,” Delilah said.

  “Why not?” Marion asked.

  “Because sexy underwear means intent. Intent means you plan to get naked with this guy. My suggestion is you do not get naked with this guy on an unofficial first non-date. And that’s my official opinion,” Delilah said.

  “Fine. I’ll wear the granny panties, then, if it’ll make you happy.” Marion pouted even though she knew her friend was right.

  “Good girl.”

  It was then with much horror Marion watched her best friend open her lingerie drawer and pull out all her sexy little things.

  “You can have these back after you report in,” Delilah had said and Marion scowled.

  The store was another fight to the death. Marion wanted to cheat and use the pre-cooked frozen meals in a package that took ten minutes on the stove. Delilah had other plans which became readily apparent when she picked a grocery cart and started wheeling toward the meat section.

  “Where are you going? The frozen food section is over there.” Marion pointed to the left of the store.

  “No way. You’re not getting off that easy. Besides, I have a foolproof recipe that will have him eating out of your hand.” Delilah paused in front of the chicken section, perusing the selections. “You do want that, right?”

  Marion hurried to catch up, walking fast through the aisles and pausing next to her friend to stare in terror at the packages of meat. “Yes,” she said slowly. “But maybe you’ve forgotten I don’t know how to cook.”

  “Mar, trust me. You’ll look like Rachael Ray by the time I get done with you. He’ll be ready to make babies with you.”

  “I’m confused,” Marion said, watching as Delilah reached for a package of chicken legs. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to get naked with him tonight?”

  “You’re not. I’m just saying, he’ll want to. You know?” She flashed a smile, showing off her perfect white teeth. “Now on to the spices.”

  “And what am I supposed to be making?”

  Marion trailed after her as she wheeled the cart around and headed down the aisle with all the spices and cooking oil. Feeling as though defeat loomed, she slumped her shoulders and followed despite the fact all she wanted to do was run screaming from the store.

  “You have olive oil?”

  When Marion’s response was a blank stare, Delilah grabbed a bottle of extra virgin olive oil and put it in the basket. Then she stood in front of the spices for what seemed like hours. Marion fought the urge to check her watch. She picked out cumin, oregano, bay leaves and two things Marion had never even heard of. Then it was on to the vegetable aisle where Delilah picked out red potatoes, bell pepper, onion, garlic and cilantro. The only thing pre-done she would even consider buying was the salad.

  “Um…” Marion began.

  “Shh. You’ll be fine.”

  Next, it was to the beer and wine section where Delilah picked out a red wine.

  “I’m not sure if Graeme likes wine,” Marion said.

  “That’s fine because we’re cooking with it anyway.”

  “We are?”

  “Trust me.” Again she smiled.

  The checkout was surprisingly painless—unusual for a Saturday afternoon. Back in the car, Delilah drove them to Marion’s. As Delilah set about cooking, she turned to Marion. “I want you to get ready while I get this in the oven.”

  “Um, what exactly are you cooking?”

  “Chicken fricassee. You’ll love it and so will he. Now scoot.” She shooed her away and turned back to her cooking.

  Delilah was a fantastic cook—she broke many a man’s heart with her delicacies. Marion had often heard the quickest way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, so maybe her dear friend was on to something. She hoped, suddenly, she wasn’t making a colossal error in judgment.

  Chapter Five

  Marion stood under the hot spray until her skin turned red. Reluctantly, she got out, wrapping a thick towel around her. As she wiped steam off the mirror, she stared back at her face, her wet brown sugar hair dripping over her shoul
ders. She had dark circles under her eyes—a testament of her sleepless nights.

  She didn’t really want to remember that day in the church, but somehow it always haunted her. She had dreamed of her wedding day since she was a little girl—how perfect everything would be with the perfect flowers and wearing the perfect dress. Even the church would be perfect and she would be marrying the perfect man of her dreams.

  But Ethan crushed the dream with two short sentences. I’m sorry. I can’t. She had often wondered what exactly it was he couldn’t do. Can’t marry her? Can’t live with her? Can’t commit to her? What? Even when she had the opportunity to ask him in person, she didn’t.

  She was afraid to hear the truth. Deep down, she didn’t really want to know.

  After that day in the church, things moved swiftly. She had gone to their place to start packing up when she found Ethan in bed with that woman. The blonde, blue-eyed vixen even had the look of a porn star or a stripper with her gigantic fake breasts, fake fingernails, fake tan and perfect figure which Marion was sure had to be fake too. There couldn’t be much that was real about that girl except for the fact she was straddling Ethan in their bed.

  And he didn’t seem the least bit remorseful.

  Marion’s statement to Graeme her ex-fiancé had slept with half the women on the site was an exaggeration. She wasn’t sure if Ethan really did cheat on her while they were together. She had used that to see if Graeme knew and would come clean. She wanted so desperately to believe Graeme told her the truth—that he had no idea. He seemed sincere enough.

  Scrubbing a hand over her face, she pushed away the thoughts of Ethan and the horrible break-up and tried to focus on the here and now. The past was done and gone and there was nothing she could do to change it.

  And now Graeme. She had never expected to see him again until that night in the pool hall. She wasn’t sure what made her go there—it had been a hangout when she and Ethan were together. But she wanted to close that chapter of her life and instead found Graeme.

  He had been there so much for her. What harm was a little game of pool?

 

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