When he spotted her, he dropped his cue stick and waved her over.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Killing time. You want to play a game?”
“No, I don’t think so. I…I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“How about I buy you a beer then?” he offered.
She had hesitated. It seemed harmless enough. Why not?
“It’s just a beer, Marion. Don’t over think it.” He winked.
She instantly relaxed. “Okay.”
She ended up playing a game of pool with him, drinking a beer and having some laughs. Something had changed between them. She felt easy and herself around him. After their game, they shared chili cheese fries and another round of beers. He’d held her hand. He’d nearly kissed her across the bar table.
And, like an idiot, she had snatched her purse, mumbled an excuse and ran out. He’d tried to call the next day but she wouldn’t answer. She was too afraid.
Too afraid of the possibilities with Graeme.
She wasn’t afraid anymore.
Marion shook her head, bringing herself back to the present. She wrapped her hair in a towel and applied her makeup in a careful hand. All she could think about was seeing Graeme later that day and wondering what they would talk about.
It’s that kiss. I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.
That was it. Graeme could kiss like no other man she’d ever been with. Not even Ethan could kiss her like that. It made her melt into a puddle and her knees buckle. She remembered clearly the way his chest curved through the material of his shirt. Her palm went over the smooth hard lines, up to his neck where she knew she had to hold on for dear life.
Marion swayed with the memory, butterflies flurrying in her stomach. She pressed her hand against her abdomen to make them stop.
It had been a while since a man made her feel that way. Ethan once, long ago. But certainly not at the end, even on their wedding day.
“I will not fall for him,” she told her reflection in the mirror, pointing at herself. “I will not.”
She couldn’t. He was Graeme, after all. She must heed her own warning. Still distracted, she dressed.
It became apparent she would need a distraction from her distraction. She had taken up art classes a few months ago but since she wasn’t very apt at painting, she thought maybe it was time to try her hand at sculpture or pottery.
In the morning, she’d do some internet research. For now, she was going to enjoy dinner with an old friend.
Delilah was tossing the salad when she entered the kitchen. The chicken fricassee smelled divine and instantly made her mouth water.
“Hey, that smells great,” Marion said.
“It needs to bake thirty-five minutes.” Delilah covered the salad bowl with plastic wrap before turning to inspect her friend. “You look great.”
“I have you to thank for it,” Marion said.
“And don’t you forget it.” Delilah grinned broadly. “Now listen.” She paused, pointing her finger and Marion knew she meant business. “No sex tonight, remember?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“I mean it. You behave yourself.” She shook a finger at Marion to punctuate her point.
“I don’t know why you think I’m going to fall into bed with him. This is Graeme we’re talking about.”
“Yeah…well…I want to make sure you know the rules.”
“Rules, schmules. Would you get out of here already?” Marion shoved Delilah toward the door in a hurry up and get out gesture.
“I want a full report in the morning.” Delilah picked up her purse. “And don’t burn the fricassee, for God’s sake.”
“Promise.” She even crossed her heart.
She hugged her friend and walked her to the door where she waved goodbye. Leaning against the front door, the butterflies insisted on coming back. She was alone…but not for long.
* * * * *
Graeme snatched the printed directions off his printer and read them over again. He knew exactly where her house was and it wasn’t all that far away.
Since he wasn’t sure what sort of evening Marion had in mind—because he intended to let her lead and follow wherever she wanted—he brought his hostess a bottle of wine.
Dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and a button-down shirt, he grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter.
He had spent his afternoon working on the website, TakeMeImYours.Com, tweaking and making it easier to navigate. He had never intended to host and design a website for the porn industry but it paid the bills—and very well too. It was a profession he fell into and at first he thought it’d be great to look at hot girls all the time. He had even dated some. But as time wore on, he became jaded and they didn’t “do it” for him anymore.
His true love, though, was creating life from a blank white canvas. He could lose himself in his paintings.
His loft apartment gave him the studio space he needed for his artwork as well as a nice office for his day job. His furnishings were clean and contemporary. Amber, a couple of girlfriends ago, had called it stark and sterile. She had tried to inject her own touch by adding a bit of color here and there with throw pillows on his black leather couch, but he would have none of it. Jade and purple pillows with bead trim and fringe were not allowed in his man cave.
Climbing into his sedan, he turned his thoughts toward the evening ahead. Marion had been on his mind all afternoon and he wondered what her ulterior motive was by inviting him for dinner. She didn’t strike him as the type to have a secret agenda but he’d been wrong before.
Whatever the reason, he’d take it. If it meant he spent the evening with her playing Parcheesi, he’d do it. If only to spend time with her. If only to see her pretty face and smell her intoxicating scent. He had been in love with Marion since the day he’d met her.
He pulled up in front of her house as the sun dipped toward the horizon. It was still hot in late September and this evening was no exception. He grabbed the bottle of wine and headed to her front door.
As he pushed the bell, his stomach erupted into a ball of nerves. He hadn’t been this nervous about a date since high school. And that was more than twenty years ago. When she whisked open the door, he stared into her lovely doe brown eyes. Her hair seemed fluffier for some reason and her shirt gave him a great view of what was in it.
“Hi! Come on in.” She smiled as she stepped aside.
He could smell the scent of her perfume as he walked by to check out her small house. Something smelled so good it made his mouth water. The living room and kitchen was one big room, one flowing into the next. There was a separate dining room off to one side. The entire house was small but warm and inviting.
“This is for you.” He handed her the bottle of pinot grigio.
“Oh, thank you.” Marion took it, reading the label. “Nice brand.”
“Only the finest for you,” he replied. He wasn’t sure what she had in mind for the evening, but it seemed she had intended to stay in. Especially since she’d cooked. He couldn’t remember a woman ever cooking for him before. He liked it.
“I thought we’d stay in, if that’s okay.” She waved toward the oven. Was that a blush he saw high in her cheekbones? “It should be ready soon. Should I open the wine?”
“If you’d like. I hope it goes with dinner.”
“I’m sure it will. We’re having chicken fricassee.”
She opened and closed the drawers, searching for the wine opener. When she finally found it, she fumbled with it until she managed to open the corkscrew. He grinned, reaching for it and slipping it out of her hand.
“Here. Let me.”
Their hands brushed and for a moment, her smooth skin grazed his. It left his palm tingling in her wake, making him crave more, wanting to feel the rest of her. Marion pulled her hand away quickly and stepped back, watching as he released the cork from the bottle and set it aside.
“Thanks,” she said, her
voice low and almost sultry. Graeme resisted the urge to pull her to him and kiss her senseless.
As she poured two glasses of wine, a timer dinged. She reached for pot holders and lifted the dish out of the oven. The heady aroma made his mouth water.
“Damn, that smells great.” He peered over her shoulder at the food and his stomach rumbled in response. “I’m hungrier than I thought.”
“Good. I’m glad you brought your appetite.” Marion reached for a serving spoon and plated the dish, a green salad on the side.
They settled at the dining room table. Graeme wondered what they could possibly have in common they could talk about. But then…this was Marion. He’d known her a few years.
“So how have you been?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.
“Good.” She forked green lettuce, keeping her eyes lowered to her plate.
“I haven’t seen you since that day at the pool hall. That’s been—what? A couple of months ago?”
He remembered that day like it was yesterday. Buying her a beer, shooting some pool and having some laughs. And the kiss that wasn’t. Did she think about that too? She hadn’t let him kiss her then but she did earlier outside the book store. Only a few hours ago. Had it affected her the way it affected him?
He had loved spending time with her alone then. He had resisted the urge to tell her how devastating it had been for him to give her that note. How could he tell her seeing her heart broken like that had torn him apart? She wouldn’t believe him. He had been so comfortable with her then and now he was a nervous wreck. It was as though the Universe was giving him a second chance and he didn’t want to blow it.
“Yes.” She kept her eyes lowered, refusing to meet his. “It seems so long ago.”
“You know, that day at the church—”
She flinched and he stopped talking. He had intended to tell her what had happened then between him and Ethan and that he hated being the bearer of bad news. Clearly she was still affected by it and he was a thoughtless idiot for bringing it up.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Finally, she lifted her gaze, meeting his, and then waved it away like it was nothing. “You know...six months ago, I’d have told you it was the worst day of my life, but today, I see it differently. You rescued me by keeping me from making the worst mistake of my life. I guess I owe you for that.” She put her fork down and reached for her wine.
With his hear thudding hard, he grasped her other hand, gripping her soft fingers in his. She felt like an angel. His. “I’m sorry he hurt you.”
“It’s not your fault.” She slipped away her hand, placed it in her lap. “Besides, I think it was for the best. Ethan is rich and spoiled. I’m not sure he’d be happy with me anyway.” She shrugged, as if to say it all didn’t matter anymore.
But I would. “He’d be a fool not to be happy with you.”
A small smile crept up her cheek. “That’s sweet of you to say.” Blushing, she glanced down.
“I mean it, Marion. And now he wants you back after everything he put you through.” Something inside him snapped. He wanted to protect her from more heartache. He wanted to tell her not to take him back.
“I’m not taking him back,” she said. “I’m fine without him or anyone, for that matter. I like the way my life is right now. And I’ve decided to take art lessons.”
“Art?” Surprise flooded him. He had no idea she was interested in art and he wondered if she knew about his own passion for it.
“Don’t laugh now. I’ve been taking painting lessons but I want to try something different. I was thinking sculpture or pottery or something.” Marion glanced up at him through her lashes, looking sheepish.
He couldn’t help but grin.
“You’re laughing at me!” she said, sitting up straight.
“Not at all,” he said. “I think it’s fantastic you want to try your hand at art.”
“My painting skills are less than fantastic and I’ll probably suck at anything else I try.”
“If you want my opinion, you should try pottery. You have good hands for molding clay between your fingers.” He couldn’t help but stare at her slender fingers. He resisted the urge to reach for her hand again and run his thumb over the curves of her knuckles.
She cleared her throat. “I’ll look into it. Anyway, I think it will get my mind off Ethan.”
“So you don’t want to date?” He turned serious, watching his hope of seeing Marion on a more continuous basis float out the window.
“I don’t think so. I’m not ready and besides, men are really more trouble than they’re worth. No offense.”
“None taken. I think.” He tried to pretend it didn’t hurt, but it did. Oh, it did. He wanted Marion more than he’d care to admit.
“I mean, you don’t count because we’re friends. Right?” She glanced up through her lashes. Was that a hopeful look on her face? Did she really want to be friends and nothing more?
Graeme put on his best false front. “Of course, we’re friends.”
“That’s why I asked you here for dinner tonight. So we could catch up on old times.”
Swallowing the sting in the back of his throat, he reached for his glass and held it up. “To old friends.”
She clinked his glass with hers. Despite her declaration, Graeme couldn’t help but still be in love with her and was determined to change her mind. He wasn’t sure how yet but she would be his.
Chapter Six
Marion touched her glass to Graeme’s, listening to the resounding clink. She searched his face for any sign he wanted to mean more to her than a friend but he gave no hint whatsoever.
Her heart sank, in spite of her best efforts to keep it from doing that. If they were friends, she wondered, then why did he kiss her that way at the book store? She had hoped, for whatever reason, there was something between them. Some spark. Or maybe she imagined it all when he kissed her and she was projecting a huge fantasy of this romantic involvement with him that didn’t exist.
Still…she could feel his lips on hers even now, hours later.
She shoved away the thoughts. If that’s the way he wanted it, then that’s the way it would stay. She could live with that. And perhaps they would still see each other.
“So what have you been doing for the last few months?” she asked, forking some of the chicken.
“Work and more work.” He took a bite of the main dish and paused, giving her a look of bliss. “I have to say, Marion, I had no idea you could cook. This is wonderful.”
“Thanks. Neither did I.” She bit her lip. She wanted to tell him she didn’t make it, but choked back the words. Especially since this evening seemed to have spun in a totally different direction than she had originally imagined.
What she had imagined was nothing more than a daydream. She had somehow pictured they would laugh and talk and he would twist a lock of her hair around his finger. She could smell his faint cologne lingering on his skin as he leaned toward her.
“I’m impressed,” he said, snapping her out of her fantasy.
“Don’t be. It really wasn’t all that hard.” Thanks to Delilah. She nervously twisted the napkin around her hand in her lap. She wanted to get off the subject of her cooking as soon as possible. “So what types of web sites do you design? Anything I’ve heard of?”
He cleared his throat. “I doubt it. They’re all small companies. It’s good money but not very fulfilling.”
Was it her imagination or did he look uncomfortable talking about his work? She pressed on. “Why’s that?”
“I’m looking to branch out some. Do something a little different.”
“In the same field?”
“I’m working on a deal that could open some doors for me,” he said.
His answer seemed vague and maybe he meant it that way. She had no idea the web design world was so confidential. She shrugged it off as she finished dinner. She wasn’t sure what more they could talk about since he didn’t want to talk ab
out work and her work was downright boring.
“How about you? Still working the gym?”
“Yes, I am. Though it’s not very exciting.” As a personal trainer, her job fulfillment was seeing her clients achieve their goals and lose weight. But she really wanted to become a physical therapist. She gave up school because Ethan wanted her to.
“But you’re helping people, right?”
“Sure. I help them lose weight and eat right. I make them have accountability.”
“It’s not what you want to do, though.”
It was like he could read her mind. She nodded, reaching for her glass. “You’re right.”
“So what do you want to do?”
“This sounds crazy but I’ve always wanted to be a physical therapist.”
“Why would that sound crazy? I think it’s wonderful.”
She shrugged. “Ethan didn’t want me to finish school.”
He pursed his lips and she could tell he bit off a retort. “You know what I think? I think you can be and do anything you want.”
“That’s what my mother always says.”
“She’s right. Moms know best.” He winked. “Seriously, why don’t you go back and finish?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m too old now.”
“You’re never too old for school. And if it’s something you want, then you should go for it. Right?”
“Maybe.” She smiled slowly, appreciating his enthusiasm and encouragement. “I’ll think about it.”
“You should. Have you thought about night school? Then when you get your license, I’ll volunteer to be your guinea pig.” He grinned broadly and she laughed.
“Oh, Graeme. I’ve missed laughing with you.” Their eyes collided for a long moment until she finally cleared her throat. “Well, I think I’ll just clear these plates.”
Marion dropped her napkin on the table and reached for his plate. He grasped her wrist then, something for which she was completely unprepared. His hand was so warm, so soft against her skin she never wanted him to let go. She looked down, watching the way his fingers wrapped around her wrist holding her. Not pressing into her, not malicious at all. Just touching and being touched.
Take Me I'm Yours (Coffee House Chronicles) Page 5