Real Romance

by Ginny Baird

  "She's a coworker, silly! For heaven's sake, it's practically company business."

  David still didn't let go.

  "Wait a minute," she said, finally breaking free of his grasp, "you're not wriggling out of your offer to help, are you?"

  "To help with Joanne's wedding? Of course not, I meant every word I said."

  "Good, because it's going to be sort of crazy between my helping with hers, and Johnny and Meg's ceremony coming up next month."

  "And when will you get a chance to take a break?"

  "Oh, I don't know," she said, running her fingers through her hair. "Unless Fabio sneaks in and steals me away to Jamaica, I'll probably be stuck here till New Year's."

  Well, he wasn't exactly Fabio, but... David smiled brightly and gave her a whopping kiss on the lips. She'd just given him the most brilliant idea.

  Marie tried hard not to get too concerned that she hadn't heard from David in a couple of days. After all, he'd warned her that Caroline was planning to take inventory for the rest of the week, so he'd be working long hours.

  It was probably for the best anyhow. Because, as much as David had expressed his interest in helping, Marie had her hands full planning Joanne's reception. When she thought about it, she realized he would just be in the way.

  The bookstore had been incredibly busy ever since it had reopened after Thanksgiving. At peak hours, the aisles were so crammed Marie often had trouble simply maneuvering to do her regular duties. The business was good for the store, as well as its employees, who would all be getting healthy bonuses this year. But the extra paperwork high-volume sales produced made additional demands on her already limited time.

  Although Johnny seemed to be heading for his upcoming nuptials with a certain degree of nonchalance, his fiancée Meg was positively frantic. With only two brothers and a misguided, twice-divorced socialite mother to help her, she'd been phoning Marie almost daily for support. With the wedding less than four weeks away, the caterer had canceled, the music director had been jailed for bootlegging CDs, and the bridesmaids' dresses—all seven of them—had arrived in the wrong color!

  Marie hung up the phone and collapsed in a heap on her living room sofa. Weddings were an unbelievable amount of trouble. There was so much work involved—and planning. Just look at poor Meg. She was supposed to be preparing for the most memorable day of her life, but instead she'd been biting her fingernails to the quick in nervous anticipation of what disaster would befall her next.

  Somehow it seemed to Marie that the more time and planning that went into a wedding, the greater the opportunities for things to go wrong.

  When she'd been little, she'd envisioned all the same things Meg had. A candlelit ceremony, followed by a sit-down dinner and dancing in a castle courtyard to an elegant string quartet.

  The main problem with that picture was that Marie wasn't a princess with a courtyard, or a fortune to afford that kind of soiree. In fact, up until very recently, she didn't really imagine she'd ever find a prince.

  Her sisters Jill and Teresa had found their princes early, but instead of crumpets in the castle halls, they'd been treated to tea and cake in the big reception hall of their Methodist church. To see the smiles on their faces, though, it hadn't mattered to either, not one bit.

  Marie kicked off her shoes and propped her aching feet on the coffee table. What with all the circles they had to run around in prior to the big day, it was a wonder brides could dance at their own weddings at all.

  No, this was too much. Too much altogether. By the time Meg and Johnny tied the knot on December twenty-eighth, Marie would have assisted with the planning of four weddings—Joanne's included.

  She tugged the scrunchie out of her hair and shook it out as it fell to her shoulders. Gracious, she thought, straightening her curls with her fingers, maybe she'd missed her calling as a wedding coordinator.

  No, scratch that. She truly enjoyed what she did for a living. What she'd enjoy even better, Marie thought, sinking low in the sofa and burying her head in her arms, would be for someone else to do everything for her when her time finally came along.

  Joanne leaned in to the mirror and pinched her cheeks.

  "Well, what do you think?" she asked, turning her head coyly from side to side and studying her reflection. "Not too bad for an old bird?"

  "Oh, Joanne," Marie said, hugging her shoulders. "You look marvelous. Beautiful!"

  It was true. One look at the glow on her face and the shine in her eyes, and anyone would swear Joanne was twenty years younger. Her hair was done in a loose upsweep with little sprigs of flowers tucked in all around. Lilac, to match her flowing, floor-length dress.

  "You were so sweet to close the store, love. All on my account."

  Marie chuckled. "Well, Joanne, I think it helped that your brother-in-law-to-be owns the place! But you're welcome just the same. It does seem like the perfect place for the ceremony."

  "Perfect," Joanne said, smiling back at her reflection. "The scene of the crime, as Chad calls it. You know if it hadn't been for you, young lady—"

  "Oh now, Joanne," Marie said, patting her affectionately on the arm. "Don't you go giving me too much credit. To look at the two of you now, there's no doubt in my mind that you and Chad would have found each other sooner or later."

  Joanne turned quickly and looked at Marie. "Well, now, who on earth are you, and what have you done with my skeptical friend?"

  Marie grinned and lowered her glasses. "She fell in love."

  "You?" Joanne bounced on her heels like a five-year-old. "But you never said a word... How serious is it?"

  "One blushing bride at a time, please," Marie said, spinning her back toward the mirror. "Now, let's be sure all those pins are in place. You wouldn't want to prick Chad when he gives you that 'I do' kiss!"

  David sat nervously on the sidelines, acutely aware of what all this meant.

  The back of the bookstore had been decorated to look like a wedding chapel, complete with an improvised canopy and lots of crepe paper decorations and fresh flowers. Marie had done a good job at making things look special. But then again, everything she touched seemed to have a hint of magic in it.

  David hoped he was doing the right thing, and wasn't making some big blunder. But the entire family had assured him his take on the matter was perfect.

  With Marie's father being gone, Johnny had been the logical one to approach. But after speaking with him, Johnny had indicated that Mark might feel a little left out unless David also talked to him. Of course, Mark then pointed out that Jill and Teresa were Marie's sisters after all, and if—after speaking to Mark and Johnny—David somehow omitted them in the process, they'd be awfully hurt.

  After all that, David had decided to sit down and have a chat with Dan and Jack as well. Oh, and he'd called Meg, in North Carolina, just to be sure his idea wouldn't upset her wedding plans in any way.

  David sat at attention, as the wedding march started to play on Chad's grandson's boom box.

  Marie walked in first, looking lovely in a low-cut, black sheath dress, and holding a bouquet of roses.

  Then he smiled in wonder at the elegant old lady gliding down the aisle. Love, at any age, he decided, was stunning.

  And he knew with a clarity beyond reason, that he and Marie would still share its glow—far past the day when their own hair turned gray.

  David discreetly raised a hand to wipe away a tear as the minister stepped forward to begin the ceremony. For this would not only be a day that Chad and Joanne would remember for eternity, he was hoping... oh, how he was hoping... it'd be a landmark day for him and Marie, as well.

  As the small group of guests mingled over cocktails, David turned away, searching for Marie.

  "Looking for someone?" she asked, sneaking up behind him and almost startling him out of his socks.

  "Marie," David nearly shouted, "don't... no," he said, halting abruptly, as her lips broke into a sensuous smile. "I take that back, surprise me all you want."
>
  "Gracious," she said, stretching up on her toes and kissing him full force on the lips, "you're looking handsome tonight." And he did. Marie slightly narrowed her eyes, thinking she'd never seen him in a nice suit and tie before. And she liked it. Boy, did she like it.

  Then again, she thought wickedly, she liked it best when he wore nothing at all.

  David gave a nervous smile and looked around the room. Holy cow, was she forward tonight. Not that she couldn't be... But in public she was normally somewhat shy.

  He studied her as her lips turned up in another naughty smile. "Had some champagne, dear?"

  "Why, yes, I've had some champagne! And why not? We're celebrating here. Cel-e-brating! Yeee-ha!" she shouted, throwing her arms into the air and waving them.

  "Marie," David said, clutching her to him and quickly scanning the room. "Maybe you shouldn't have any more."

  "What do you mean, I shouldn't have any more? Hey sweet thing, why are you whispering?"

  David held her even closer.

  "Ouch! What are you—"

  "Excuse us," David said to the very interested guests. Then he gripped Marie around the waist and carted her out of the room.

  "What are you doing? I wanted to stay and enjoy the party!"

  "I know you did, sweetheart," David said, bending low to grab her behind her knees. "But I've got a party of my own in mind."

  "Hey, whoa!" she squealed, as he hoisted her skyward and threw her over his shoulder.

  "David Lake, put me down!" she yelled, pounding his rear with her fists.

  But he just pushed back the door and carried her into the night, where the December wind half froze her bare skin and sobered her up in a hurry.

  "Who are you?" she asked, still hanging upside down.

  "Just call me Fabio," he said, patting her bottom with a smile.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Marie adjusted the heater vent in her direction, then folded her arms across her chest.

  "I'm going to give you exactly five seconds to explain yourself, or else..."

  David raised his eyebrows.

  "Or else I'm calling the police."

  "You mean Chad?" David tried to hold back a chuckle, but didn't quite succeed.

  She huffed and looked out the window.

  "Great to see you think making a spectacle of yourself is so funny."

  David widened his eyes and thumbed his chest.

  "Hey, wait a minute, sweet thing. That is what you called me in there? Sweet—"

  "Okay, David, I get the point. So I had a little too much champagne. Well, it's been a long week. I've been working late, haven't slept much. And then with all the wedding—"

  "Marie," he said, with one of those deep blue looks that made her completely lose sight of her point. "You don't have to explain yourself to me."

  "Oh, good," she said, blinking, and glad—so glad—that she remembered what she'd wanted to say. "But maybe you have to explain yourself to me. I mean, what was that caveman act back there?"

  David merely shrugged. "You mean you didn't like it?"

  "Well, I..." The truth was, she had liked it. Liked it very much, darn it. It had made her feel all feminine and submissive—like a romance heroine being swept away by the masterful hero of her dreams.

  "I still insist on knowing why you did that."

  "I wanted to take you to dinner."

  "Have you ever thought of just asking, or is that approach too ordinary?"

  David smiled and lightly thumped her nose."I guess you bring out the beast in me."

  "You know," he said, resting his very warm hand on the side of her neck, "I used to be a fine, upstanding citizen. But now," he said, slipping his palm around her nape and leaning his face in toward hers, "I'm just an—animal."

  Marie's eyes flashed as he drew closer. What was it that this man did to her? She tingled all over whenever he was near.

  "Marie," he said, so close she could almost taste him, "the truth..."

  Her nipples went hard and her body arched as all her senses recalled what David's physical truths felt like.

  "Do I bring out the beast in you?"

  He nibbled lightly at the base of her neck, on her earlobe... at the very tip of her chin.

  "Grrr..." she said, latching on to his ears and pulling his mouth down on hers.

  Marie pushed back in her seat and latched her seat belt.

  "Are we really going to dinner," she asked, "or was that just a ploy to get me in the car and feel me up?"

  David laughed and turned the ignition. The caveman routine had worked like a charm.

  "No, sweetheart, no ploy. We have reservations at ten."

  "Ten? Isn't that a little late for dinner?"

  "As late as they'd take at the Italian Chef, but I had a hunch it might take us a while to get there."

  Italian Chef? Marie's mouth watered at the thought of a rich pasta alfredo coupled with a strong Chianti... followed by a sensual night in bed with her favorite man.

  "I do appreciate being taken to dinner, even if the invitation was a little heavy-handed." Her stomach growled loudly as if to accentuate her point, and they both laughed. "I haven't eaten all day."

  "Marie, sweetheart," he said, lowering his voice, "you really need to take better care of yourself. Or maybe what you need"—he cast her a meaningful look but she looked away—"is someone to do the job for you."

  She gripped the door handle, telling herself not to read too much between the lines.

  "From where I sit," she said, trying to make light of it, "I've got plenty of people to run my life. There's Johnny and Mark—"

  David started to say something, but stopped.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Holy cow," David said, wiping his brow with the back of his sleeve. "Talk about running things, I just zipped right through that red light!"

  Marie bit her bottom lip, wondering why she'd been thinking he was such a wild man. "Wouldn't worry about it too much, David. All the police in this town are at Books & Bistro drinking champagne."

  "Right," David said, sinking back in his seat with a sigh. Man, he'd have to be more careful. He needed all his wits about him tonight.

  They sat face to face at the small corner table.

  "I've always liked this place," Marie said, raising her glass in David's direction. "But none of my other dates," she said, her face brightening in the candle's glow, "could ever afford to bring me here."

  "I'm not a rich man, Marie," David said, clinking his glass to hers. "In fact, my parents have disowned me. But I pledge to do my best to keep you in style."

  Marie set down her glass.

  "What do you mean, disowned you?"

  "I wanted to be my own man, start my own business someday," David said. "An optician's shop. That wasn't good enough for them."

  She straightened her glasses on her nose and pushed back a few locks of hair from her forehead, waiting for him to continue.

  "Dad wanted me to go into the family business."

  "Banking?"

  "Avariciousness was more like it."

  "But I thought they were well off. Didn't you say something about your mother and all her charities?"

  "Oh, they were generous, in their own way. But you better believe they always knew exactly how generous they were. And everybody else did, too. Down to the last cent."

  Marie reached out and laid a hand on the arm of his suit coat.

  "Oh, David, I'm sorry. I didn't know it was like that—with you and your folks. Don't you even... keep in touch?"

  "Sure," he said, with a wry smile, "we get together every time Debbie plans a wedding."

  "Oh," Marie said, dabbing her lips with her napkin and seeming to change her mind. "Guess it's not something you want to talk about."

  David brought his other hand to the table top and linked it in hers. "No, go on. I want to hear what you have to say."

  "It's really not my place."

  "If it were your place," he said gently, "and I asked you, w
ould you tell me?"

  "Of course," she said, unable to look away.

  "Then tell me, Marie. Whatever it is that's on your mind."

  "It's silly, maybe. Because I don't know Debbie at all. I mean, I'm sure that—if I did—I'd like her."

  "She'd like you too," he said with a tender smile, "very much."

  "Well, anyway, if your family really doesn't get along and you don't see each other much... don't you think it's possible Debbie keeps getting engaged as a way of bringing all of you together?"

  David blinked and looked down at the table. It was scary, positively alarming the way she'd looked right into the situation and seen it so clearly for what it was. Of course, she had to be right. Right about his sister, right about his family.

  Right on the money when it came to him.

  David reached his other hand toward her, and they sat holding hands for the longest while, neither one speaking.

  "I used to get sort of frustrated with the service in here," David said, slowly looking up, "but tonight I'm sort of glad for the lull. I don't know how you do it, Marie," he said, his crystal blue eyes starting to blur, "but you have a way of looking right through me, of seeing"—he brought one hand to his chest and pressed her palm to his heart—"what's in here."

  Her lower lip began to tremble. He couldn't possibly be—

  "Alfredo?" the waiter asked, handing over her plate.

  They continued to talk throughout the delicious meal about every subject under the sun, but somehow they always came back to tonight's topic: weddings. David was regaling her with anecdotes from all the ones he'd attended and Marie listened raptly.

  "Well, anyway," he went on, laughing, "until tonight, of course, that was the last wedding I went to. And after seeing the way those other groomsmen tossed poor Blake into the pool, I said never again."

  "Never again, that you'd go to a wedding or be part of one?"

  Marie smiled politely at the waiter as he cleared their dishes.

  "Participate—as a groomsman, I mean. Hey, I was minding my own business at the bar. I had nothing to do with that let's-throw-Blake-in-the-pool-and-spray-shaving-cream-on-his-new-car business. But he was seeing double from the chlorine. To this day he holds me culpable. You try to be a nice guy..."