On Any Given Sundae

by Marilyn Brant

  Oh, how she wanted to tell him he was wrong. That with him it would never, could never be a wasted offering. But, as usual, her voice didn’t cooperate.

  “Or,” his expression turned hard, “on some random waiter at a bar, okay? Your moral courage is inspiring. I don’t know many women who would wait until they were twenty-seven, almost twenty-eight to—”

  “Shhh,” she said finally, her voice raspy with the burden of unfulfilled desire.

  Oh, God, she wanted him in her.

  Her shocked body ached for him. Her heart, too. How could she explain aloud that her current state of virginity had much less to do with “moral courage” than with good old “lack of guts”?

  Besides, what did it matter? In the end, he didn’t want her long term. Maybe it was better this way—stopping now. Maybe. Maybe not. But he’d taken the choice away from her.

  She watched as he slipped his shirt over those great shoulders and picked up his jeans. He eyed them apprehensively.

  “Um, getting myself back into these is going to be too much of a task in my current…condition.” With the merest flush of embarrassment, he glanced down. One of the smiley-faces on his boxers had a nose like Pinocchio’s. “I just—well, could I grab a quick shower?”

  She got him a towel and, fifteen minutes later, he was out the door, promising to pick her up tomorrow before his opening shift so she could retrieve her car.

  His parting kiss was so tender, though, she almost called him back. “Stay with me,” she whispered to the empty hallway. “Don’t ever go.”

  But even she knew there was a time when fantasy stopped and reality hit full force. She’d just had her first collision with it.

  ***

  Elizabeth combated the earthy elements of grogginess and lust the next morning. She told herself she could deal with whatever the day threw at her, but fear crept in and curled into a ball in her stomach. It was The Morning After—or, at least, the biggest Morning After she’d ever had so far. How would Rob greet her? With friendliness? With heightened sexual hunger? With avoidance or shame?

  But he surprised her because she hadn’t guessed it would be…with warmth and a bouquet of flowers.

  “Thank you,” she said, accepting the pink roses.

  He said his “You’re Welcome” to her by collecting her in his arms and kissing her without a breath for ninety seconds at least. He pulled a couple of inches away and pointed at her with a stern index finger.

  “You weren’t just dreaming last night, got it?” he said, narrowing his eyes in a mock threat. “It was all real. And I don’t want to hear any talk from you that you ‘aren’t sure’ of what happened or what didn’t happen, understand?”

  As if she could forget. “I got it,” she told him and gave him her best morning smile. He beamed at her in return.

  Oh, she loved this playful side of Rob. Loved it in him. Loved that he brought out something similar in her.

  “But I was dreaming,” she added, amazed at the evenness of her own voice. “After you left, I dreamed this very handsome Italian-American businessman visited me and took me out for an ice cream. A really large sundae with three ice cream flavors, loads of whipped cream, hot fudge sauce and a big red cherry on top.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Oh, yes.” She offered him her sweetest smile. “He said he’d personally make it for me. In my dream.”

  “C’mon.” He put his arm around her and nudged her toward the door. “We’d better make this frozen fantasy of yours come true before Gretchen gets there. I’ve got a feeling both of us are going to be in front of the firing squad today after our quick departure last night.” He gave her a pointed look. “Your friends aren’t afraid to shoot their toughest questions at a guy, you know.”

  “I know.”

  So, to Tutti-Frutti they went.

  “Did that ‘handsome Italian-American businessman’ select the three ice cream flavors for you, or did he ask you what you wanted?” Rob said to her, his lips upturned and looking rather smirky. “In your dream.”

  “He asked me which ones I wanted, of course.”

  “Okay. Which ones do you want?”

  “I want your top three favorite flavors. Please.”

  His brow wrinkled. “My favorites?”

  “Yes. And any other toppings you think are good.”

  He shrugged and loaded the sundae bowl with Pistachio Paradise, Chocolate Brownie Chunk and, finally, the sweet shop’s namesake.

  “Tutti-Frutti is one of your favorites?” she said. “Why?”

  “You disapprove?”

  “Not at all. J-Just curious.”

  He leaned across the counter and kissed her on the nose. “Because I like stuff that’s kind of complex. That has little surprises in it.”

  He ladled spoonfuls of hot fudge sauce over the ice cream, made another layer with caramel, then slathered her entire sundae in whipped cream. He added a couple of fat fresh strawberries to the massive dessert along with the big red cherry she’d requested, plopping it right on top. Then he pushed the concoction across the counter toward her, followed by a napkin and a spoon.

  “May I have another spoon please?” she said.

  “That one’s not dirty, is it?” He reached to grab her spoon back, but she did something she never done before. She put her hand on his and stopped him.

  “No. I m-meant, I wanted one for you.”

  He stared down at her small hand resting on top of his for a moment, then he brought her fingers to his lips. Still holding her hand, he pulled out another spoon and dug into the giant sundae. But, instead of eating it himself, he offered the first scoop to her. Amazing. The man, not the ice cream.

  Well, the ice cream, too.

  She filled her spoon up and rubbed it against his bottom lip so driblets of hot-fudge sauce clung to that manly mouth. So luscious.

  “Mmm,” she said, watching him eat it.

  He reached toward the sundae, snatching a strawberry and using it as a decorating tool to dot her nose, chin and cheeks with whipped-cream freckles. Then he kissed them off one at a time and fed the strawberry to her. Her heart slammed hard against her chest.

  Or, maybe, it was the door that slammed.

  “My, isn’t this…cozy,” Gretchen said, her voice registering an odd combination of amusement, surprise and suspicion. “Customers will be here in ten minutes, though. Maybe you two should take this…this activity into the backroom…provided it’s consensual.”

  Elizabeth turned to look at her good friend, whose blue eyes were wide and questioning and whose body language indicated she could just as easily throw her arms around them in a bear hug of congratulations as she could throw a hard punch that might knock Rob over.

  “I-It’s okay, Gretch. We’re, um, we both—”

  Rob cleared his throat. “What she means is that we’re giving you the morning off today. Elizabeth’s going to work this shift with me.” He stared at her until he’d forced a nod out of her. Gretchen raised her eyebrows and shot them both dubious glances, but Rob continued, “You’ve been working real hard and probably have better things to do than watch the two of us make fools of ourselves for the rest of the morning. We’re going to be pretty self-involved here.”

  A smile played on the far corners of Gretchen’s lips. “And who’s going to tend to the customers?”

  “We sincerely promise not to ignore them,” he said. “Not much, anyway.”

  “Elizabeth?” Gretchen asked.

  She nodded at her friend, knowing darn well she hadn’t been able to keep the wonder and delight off her own face.

  Oh, the victorious thrill of love!

  Gretchen’s smile broadened. “You sure you don’t need a chaperone?”

  Elizabeth shook her head at the same time Rob said, “Look, Gretchen, Elizabeth and I have only got a week left to be together before our uncles come back from Europe. We’re just enjoying the little time we have before I return to Chicago.”

  Oh, the defe
ating agony of reality.

  Some of the remarkable animating force that’d kept her running hot these past ten or so hours, drained out of her. A chill took its place.

  “Alrighty, then.” Gretchen swiveled on her robust heel and marched to the door. She flipped the sign from “Closed” to “Open” and called over her shoulder, “Play safely, kids. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  Well, neither did Elizabeth, but preventing it was impossible. She waved her friend off and returned her sole attention to Rob, who was holding an ice-cream-covered spoon two inches from her lips again. He’d managed to get some of every layer of the sundae on it, plus, he dangled the maraschino cherry by its stem just above it.

  “Open up, Lizzy,” he said.

  She got as far as “Eliza—” before he dropped the sweet fruit in her open mouth and followed it up with the spoon of ice cream.

  “That’s a good girl,” he said. “Just like that.”

  She tugged the cherry off its stem and chewed, appreciating the sensation of being fed for the first time since she was three. He made her feel giddy and childlike and not at all like the serious adult that she had the reputation of being. Bless the man.

  If she weren’t such a good girl, she’d consider making a bargain with the devil to keep Rob here in Wilmington Bay for a little longer. Then again, she probably couldn’t hold his attention for more than another week or two, and all she’d get in the end would be the pain of watching this miraculous thing that’d happened between them dissolve and the misery of seeing him fall for someone else—someone prettier and more interesting—before taking off for good.

  No. She’d make no bargains. No promises. No vows. She wouldn’t let her hopes get all tangled up in this astonishing relationship. She’d just enjoy it for however long it lasted…and then let it go.

  Yeah, right.

  They worked side-by-side all morning, filling orders and eating up that sundae and two others, before Nick ambled in around noon. He wore dark sunglasses and hadn’t yet shaved for the day.

  “Hey, guys,” he said, his voice raspy. “Gretchen called me and ordered me—I mean, she said I could find you both here. I, um, look—I got really drunk last night, which I think you know, so I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, Elizabeth, or offended you, Rob, or did anything especially stupid because—”

  “It’s okay,” she said, cutting him off.

  Rob pretended to punch Nick in the gut. “All’s forgiven. This time,” he said.

  Nick looked more than mildly relieved but also a tad confused. “You sure?”

  “Yep,” Rob said.

  “Oh, yeah,” she agreed.

  “Okey-dokey—I mean, that’s good. Thanks.” Nick slouched against the counter, his hands cradling his dark head. “I’m gonna go back to bed then. I’m making my brother Jason give me the day off, but I’ll be back at five-thirty for my first shift.”

  “Terrific.” Rob waved him toward the door.

  Nick took a few steps backward then scowled at them. “Look, I know I’m majorly hung over right now, but is there something going on here that I don’t know about?”

  Rob rested his arm on Elizabeth’s shoulders then pulled her in tight toward his to-die-for body. “Like what?” he said to Nick.

  “Like—I don’t know. I’m just getting a weird vibe, but that’s probably crazy, right?”

  “Right.” Rob turned Elizabeth to face him, leaving not a millimeter of space between them. Every single bit of her skin in connection with his tingled. He leaned in and kissed her. A good, long, hard one.

  Nick pulled off his dark glasses and squinted at them. “What the hell? When did that happen?”

  “Thanks for your help, Nick—I mean, your apology,” Rob said with a broad grin. “You can go now.”

  Her Greek buddy opened his mouth to speak but, for once, closed it again. He smiled, saluted them and was out the door before you could say “Spanakopita.”

  Rob laughed and kissed her again.

  “Promise me you’ll work every opening shift with me this week,” he said when the coast was clear of both friends and customers. “Please. I know you’ve still got a lot of writing to do, but I love having you here beside me.”

  Despite her vow not to make any promises, there was no way she could refuse an appeal like that.

  “You’re on,” she told him. “But I want a promise from you, too.” She knew she couldn’t ask him to stay beyond the date of their uncles’ return, but she felt pretty safe with this one. “I-I want one of your specialty ice cream sundaes every morning. With the works. Do I have your complete consent?”

  “You do.” Rob looked at her, something intangible in his expression. “And you should know, this handsome Italian-American businessman is a man of his word.”

  Ah, yes. And a man of her dreams.

  ***

  One hour and forty-seven minutes into their Thursday morning shift, the phone rang.

  Rob ran over to grab it, but he was too late. Whoever called had hung up. He shrugged and returned his gaze to tracing visual patterns on Elizabeth’s sexy legs. Oh, the things he wanted to do to those legs…and to about two hundred of her other body parts.

  Ever since midnight on Sunday—hell, even before that—he’d been crazed with wanting her, but they’d confined their physical activities to making out, feeding each other ice cream, making out, holding hands at his Mama’s house and making out some more. Even Tony admitted to Rob in private that their relationship sure didn’t look like a charade now.

  Well, it wasn’t. The fact that it couldn’t last the week didn’t make the bizarre sensations he was feeling any less memorable. She was a phenomenal lady. And she was brilliant, so it was better that she didn’t have him hanging around for long. Her infatuation with his body would wear off soon enough.

  Jacques had all but told him she’d only accept true, long-lasting love before committing herself. “She’s got high principles,” he said earlier in the week, his voice so icy as to be almost threatening. “She won’t put up with shallowness or weak promises.”

  Rob didn’t argue with him, but Jacques made it clear that even if he liked Rob well enough in the sweets shop, he disapproved of Rob’s romantic connection to Elizabeth.

  Gretchen, although basically supportive, eyed him distrustfully when she thought he wouldn’t notice.

  And Nick…well, he was still pretty oblivious.

  The phone rang again and, this time, Rob got it.

  “Hello? Tutti-Frutti,” he said.

  “Roberto!”

  “Uncle Pauly?”

  “Buon giorno! How are you?”

  “Good. Great. All is well. Tutti-Frutti is doing just fine, although everyone in town misses you both. How has your trip been going? How is Siegfried? What about Anita? And, oh, do you have the details yet on when your flight comes in this weekend?”

  “Ah, Roberto, such a responsible boy you are. We knew we made the best choice when we chose you and Elizabeth to run the shop. Isn’t that right, Siegfried?”

  Rob heard some words to the affirmative and several delighted exclamations in German. An unidentifiable something in his uncle’s tone niggled at him, though.

  “So, uh, your flight?” he asked again.

  “Is little Elizabeth around there anywhere?” Uncle Pauly said instead.

  “Ah, yeah, sure.” She’d just finished with a customer, so he motioned for her to come by him.

  “Good, good,” Uncle Pauly said, somewhat distractedly, Rob thought.

  The two uncles were whispering back and forth on the other end of the line and, when Elizabeth got to the phone, Siegfried took over.

  “Liebling?” Siegfried said to her.

  She and Rob held the receiver so both could hear. “Hi, Uncle Siegfried. We miss you. How is everything going over there? Is Aunt Anita recovering?”

  “Wonderbar! Yes, Anita is doing so well, we are all very pleased. And Europe—being back in Germany again—it’s a magnificent thin
g. There is nothing like home.”

  This statement was followed by no less than eleven straight long-distance minutes of description, on everything from local landmarks to regional restaurant delicacies to friendly visitors who came by to see Anita, with interjections by Uncle Pauly on all things Italian, as gleaned from the European cable channels and the occasional tourist.

  During the uncles’ one-sided conversation, Rob caught Elizabeth’s eye. Not one, but both of hers were open wide and looking very green and worried.

  So, she sensed something was up, too. Terrific.

  It finally came out about three minutes after the Bavarian food report.

  “So, we decided to stay on a little longer,” Siegfried said cheerfully. “Since Anita’s health is improving steadily, we thought we might take a little excursion to Italy, for Pauly’s sake. So he, too, can enjoy a visit to his homeland. And then we’ll return to check on your aunt again. Make sure she’s still recovering.”

  Neither Rob nor Elizabeth opened their mouths.

  “Liebling?”

  Uncle Pauly’s voice boomed over the line, too. “Roberto?”

  Elizabeth was the one who’d gained enough composure to actually speak. “Uh-huh?”

  Well, so it wasn’t exactly eloquent, but she sure had one up on him. He couldn’t make a single damn sound.

  “You said everything was going well, Roberto,” his uncle said. “This is true, isn’t it?”

  He managed a “Yeah,” but that was all.

  “Okay, good. So, say hi to your Mama, and we’ll see you both in early August then.”

  “Maybe mid-August,” Siegfried corrected.

  “W-W-What?” Elizabeth squeezed her eyes tight and clenched the phone until her knuckles shown like hard ridges.

  “WHAT!” Rob yelled into the line a heartbeat later.

  “Oh, sorry,” Siegfried said. “The connection must be getting bad. I said we’d be back in August sometime. Don’t know the exact date yet, but Pauly and I will keep you both posted. Thanks for all you’re doing. We’ll be in touch.”