Coffee in Common (21 page)

How could she say no?

Together, they sat back in their seats, completely sated. Neither could remember ever having enjoyed a meal more. Their eyes and thoughts were on each other. Silence had fallen, and as it stretched out, each realized they didn't feel the usual compulsion to fill every second with chatter.

Paul drank in the vision next to him and marveled at how comfortable he felt with her. Usually he was nervous on a first date, but tonight, with Jillian, it had all been effortless.

She, too, was wondering at the ease with which it had all come; the conversation, the little jokes, the touches, the sharing; all of it. In three short days, his face had become so familiar to her she was sure she could draw it from memory. The sound of his voice echoed in her mind and she found herself longing to hear more of it.

With an impish grin, she said, "Priya told me this morning that you two like dirty jokes. Is that true?"

Somewhat timorously, Paul replied, "Well…yes, I guess we do. Of course, everyone in the office likes them."

"So tell me one."

"Ahh…"

"Come on. I've heard them before. Tell me one. Please?"

"Well, okay."

This was a turn of events he'd not expected. In fact, it was the last thing he might have imagined doing on a first date. But she did ask

"A mother and father took their 6 year old son to a nude beach. As the boy walked along the beach, he noticed that some of the ladies had breasts bigger than his mother's, and asked her why. She told her son, ‘The bigger they are , the dumber the person is.'

"Pleased with the answer, the boy ran off to play in the ocean but returned to tell his mother that many of the men had larger members than his dad. His mother replied, ‘The bigger it is, the dumber the person is.'

"Again satisfied with his answer, the boy ran back to the ocean to play. Shortly after though, the boy returned again and told his mother, ‘Daddy is talking to the dumbest girl on the beach and the longer he talks, the dumber he gets.'"

Jillian groaned.

"Well, you didn't say it had to be a good one. And that's about enough with those jokes…" He paused for a beat, then added with a mischievous grin, "…at least until I know you a little better."

He glanced at his watch and asked, "Did you want to sit here all night and chat or, perhaps, find out what else I have planned?"

"There's more?"

"I did promise you the best first date of all time, although if you really want to stay and talk, we can do that, too."

When Jillian assured him she was game for anything he had planned, Paul reached over and pressed the call button. In less than a minute, there was a knock and Gino appeared at the door.

"Was everything satisfactory?"

"Everything was wonderful, Gino," Paul said. "Just wonderful."

"May I bring you something else? More coffee? Anisette?" He looked at Jillian. "Another piece of the
Zuccotto?
"

"Oh lord, no! That dessert was
so
good it should be illegal. If I eat another bite of that tonight I'll have to spend the next month, at least, atoning for the sin."

Paul and Gino laughed appreciatively.

"If there is nothing else, then…" Gino placed a leather folder containing the check on the table next to Paul.

"Wait." Paul removed a credit card from his wallet and laid it on the folder without looking inside.

Then he removed a small cell phone from his inside breast pocket, flipped it open, and paged Gary.

 Jillian touched his hand and said, "Thank you, Paul. This has been so wonderful, so unbelievable. It was the nicest meal I've ever eaten."

"You're welcome. And I agree. But honestly, as good as the food was, it was the company that really made it special for me."

Her heart leapt.

Always the right thing. He always says the right thing.

His hand caressed hers as they chatted aimlessly, waiting for Gino to return.

What else does he have planned? Is it as extravagant as dinner? This was nice, but it's too much for a first date. Is he expecting something in return? Why doesn't that bother me? It
should
bother me. Shouldn't it?

 Gino entered the room holding the folder and a white bag. "I brought some
Zuccotto
to take with you," he said, smiling broadly. "You can share it later, or tomorrow perhaps." His eyebrow lifted and his smile became a knowing grin. "It was our great pleasure to have you dine with us tonight."

They thanked him as he bowed one final time before leaving.

Paul opened the folder to sign the credit slip.

Jillian's curiosity got the better of her and she tried to surreptitiously peek at the total. She couldn't see it, but her artist's eye for detail could follow the movement of the pen as he added the tip and then totaled the slip. It appeared he'd written a one-something-zero-zero-zero – over one hundred dollars for the tip! Then it looked like he'd written five-something-seven-zero-zero.

Suddenly, she felt guilty about being so nosy, as if she had intruded on his privacy. She looked away, but could not get the numbers out of her head.

Five hundred dollars! He just spent over five hundred dollars on dinner! For me! Is he mad? Or is the one I've dreamed about? But all that money! But maybe…maybe he really is the guy…the one who'll care…who'll make me happy again…the one who…

"Jillian?"

Paul was standing next to her chair and she had not even noticed him get up.

"Sorry. I was thinking about something."

"Something good, I hope. Me, perhaps?"

He pulled the chair out as she rose, smiling.

"Perhaps," she replied with a saucy giggle.

He lifted her wrap from the chair back and draped it over her shoulders. Then he offered her his arm and they strolled slowly toward the exit to the accompaniment of dozens of jealous stares.

9:55 PM

"Oh, Paul, you didn't!"

At the end of the red carpet stood a white horse, with a light gray mane and tail, attached to a white carriage trimmed in gold, with plush red velvet seats. The driver, in his black suit, ruffled white shirt, bow tie, and top hat completed the scene.

His grin gave the answer and Jillian dashed across the sidewalk. "It's so beautiful! I've always wanted to ride in one of these."

Paul helped her in, then he, too, was seated and the clomp-clomp of the horse's feet drifted up as they began moving.

Oh, Lizzie, I know you'd disapprove, but I just can't sit here with all this space between us. Not after that dinner. It's just too romantic.

"Okay, now don't go getting any ideas, but…"

She slid across the seat until she felt his leg against hers, then settled back and rested her head against his shoulder.

"Uhh…well…sorry, but I do have one idea."

With a small sigh of approval, her head settled back against him as his arm encircled her, making her feel warm and safe.

They rode in silence for a few minutes until the carriage approached the Public Gardens and Common. The fragrance of flowering crab apple trees permeated the air.

"Mmmm…it smells wonderful here." She glanced up to see if there were any stars. "And look, the moon is full. This is perfect."

"Yes, it is," he agreed in a whisper, though he didn't mean the ride, the fragrance, and the moon. It was the feel of her head on his shoulder, her breast against his side, the scent of her hair, the comfort of having her close to him that made the moment special for him.

This is great. I could easily get used to this.

"Tell me about your family," he said, partly because he wanted to know, and partly because, despite her warning, he was getting ideas that would only get him in trouble this early in their relationship. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

Immediately, he regretted opening his mouth because she moved away and sat up, facing him.

It's just as well. Having her so close made me want to stay that way forever and I have more surprises in store for her before this date is over.

"I have four. Three sisters and one brother. Julia's the oldest. She's twenty-seven. Then me. Then Joanne, twenty-three, James, twenty, and Jessica, who turns eighteen next month."

Paul laughed. "Your parents really had a thing for the letter J, eh? I'll bet you lunch tomorrow that both their names begin with J."

Lunch? Tomorrow? That sounds promising. Too bad I already have plans.

"No bet. But you're right. Mom's name is Jolene and my dad's name is Jeffrey. They were high school sweethearts. Never even dated anyone else. They've been married thirty-two years."

"Wow. That's amazing. Thirty-two years! Did they let you in on their secret?"

"Actually, they sort of did. Or my mom did. When I was eighteen, two weeks before I was to leave for college, my mother and I were talking, girl talk, you know?"

Paul nodded.

"One of my friends had just broken up with her boyfriend because she wanted to be free to experiment while she was away at school. The poor guy was devastated. He
really
loved her. I saw him one day, about a week after the breakup and…oh my…he looked exactly as you did Wednesday morning." She gave a little grunt. "I wonder if that was why your expression made me… Well, it doesn't matter.

"Anyway, mom and I started to talk about relationships and things and I asked her how she and daddy stayed so happy all those years. And she told me."

Paul waited a few seconds, but nothing more was forthcoming. "Are you going to share what she said?"

Jillian flushed. "Well, some of it's kind of embarrassing to talk about with a guy on a first date."

"It can't be any more embarrassing for you than it is for me that you know about Mr. Johnson."

"Oh…! Oh…!" Jillian was mortified. She could feel her cheeks catch fire. Her hands shot up to hide her face.

Paul gently pulled them away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you like that. Priya told me she'd let it slip this morning and, well, I thought you'd find it funny." He paused, but she continued to stare at her lap. "Really, honey, I'm sorry."

Jillian lifted her eyes to meet his. Her face was still hot, but she could feel the fire fading and forced a weak smile. "That's okay. I just embarrass easily. I've always hated that I do that."

"Don't." His voice was gentle, his hand still on her warm cheek. "I think it's sweet. These days, it's like no one is ever embarrassed about anything. Even when they should be. So please, don't ever be embarrassed about being embarrassed. At least not with me. Now come on, tell me. What secrets did you learn from your mom?"

Jillian took a deep breath and composed her thoughts. Then the realization struck her.

He called me honey. And he did it unconsciously, like he'd said it a thousand times before. Or is that what he calls all women?

"I can't believe I'm telling you this." With a sigh, she began. "Mom told me that over the years, she and dad came up with these rules. They seem to have worked for them, at least as far as any of us can tell."

"So what are they?" He was anxious to hear what her mother, and by extension Jillian, thought were the keys to a good marriage.

"Okay." She covered her eyes with her hand as her head swung slightly back and forth. Then she took the hand away and looked him straight in the eye. "First and most important, according to mom, never pass up an opportunity to make love."

"Oh ho!" Paul's voice and eyebrows rose in unison.

"Stop that! It's hard enough to think about my parents, you know, that way, without you…?"

"Sorry. Really. I know just what you mean." He shook a little, as if a shiver had run up his spine. "I promise I'll be good. No more joking."

"Alright then. This is exactly the way she told them to me."

"First, never pass up an opportunity to make love.

"Say ‘I love you' at least once a day.

"Never bring inhibitions into the bedroom.

"No matter what the fight was about, always make up before bedtime.

"Touch each other often.

"Surprise each other often, in bed and out.

"Say something nice to each other every day.

"Never argue about money.

"Always be a team.

"Always remember the other person can't read minds.

"Always treat your partner better than you treat yourself."

When she finished, she watched for his reaction, but he sat quietly, rocking slightly, as if his whole body was nodding.

After a minute, he said softly, "I'm sorry I made fun before. You're parents are pretty wise people. I think I'll enjoy meeting them someday."

He shifted slightly, draping one hand across the back of the seat while absentmindedly rubbing his neck with the other as he lapsed back into thought.

Meet my parents someday? Is he saying these things on purpose or is he really so comfortable with me he speaks without thinking?

When he broke the silence again, he had a funny look on his face. "So tell me, do you subscribe to these rules, too."

Jillian realized the look was him trying to suppress a grin and smiled sweetly in return. "I think I might someday. If I ever get married. After all, who am I to argue with such a good example?"

It suddenly occurred to Paul where this turn in the conversation could lead. He deftly segued. "Are any of the other kids married?"

She, too, realized what she'd said and was happy to move to a safer subject. But before she could answer, they heard a loud voice call, "Jillian! Jillian! You stop right there."

The carriage had been circling the Public Garden and was now on Beacon Street. Jillian searched for the source of the voice, then saw him. "Oh damn."

Standing on the curb in front of the
Bull & Finch Pub
was Patrick Fowler.

"What's wrong?"

"It's a guy I went out with a few times. He called today and wanted to go out tonight and I told him I had plans with my girlfriends." She turned to check on Patrick. "Oh no, he's following us."

Patrick had run after them and soon reached the carriage. "Hey, you," he yelled to the driver. "Stop this thing. I want to talk to her."