Her Immortal Love (3 page)

“I’ll be right back.”

Lydia flew through the front door of the store. Once she was outside, she looked up and down the sidewalk. There was no sign of Tristan. That is, if it had in fact been him. But the voice she’d heard and the way Elaine had described him.

It had to be him.

But which way had he gone? She doubted Elaine would have noticed. The windows of the store were covered with advertisements and posters so it was difficult to see the outside from where the cash register was located.

She turned to her right. As it was a Saturday afternoon and an unseasonably warm day for early fall, the downtown sidewalks were teeming with shoppers and students from the nearby campus. She was forced to maneuver her way through the crowd, avoiding baby carriages and leashed dogs. Tristan was quite tall so she hoped she’d be able to spot his head over the crowd.

There was no sign of him.

She stopped. She’d probably gone the wrong way. It was no use. He was gone. Unless he had some reason to come back to the store. But she only worked part-time. What were the chances that the day he chose to return would be the day she'd be working?

Slim to none.

She could go back and see if she could find his address or phone number from whatever he had purchased. Maybe through a receipt or a credit card transaction. But that sounded too much like stalking and, she miserably admitted, implied a rather pathetic and pitiful desperation on her part.

Honestly? Could she sink any lower
? She wasn’t even sure if he had bought anything. She’d been in such a hurry to find him, she’d forgotten to ask Elaine why he had come into the store in the first place.

And what was she doing? Chasing after a man and a much younger man at that. She probably needed her head examined. Her mother had certainly insisted she do so after she filed for divorce from Douglas. She’d told Lydia that she no longer trusted her to do the right thing anymore and that she needed to go and see a shrink. Lydia had ignored her mother at the time. But maybe she was right. Running out of the store like that. Acting as if she was thirteen years old instead of thirty-nine.

As she turned around to head back, she ran smack into someone.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She quickly took a step back, but as she did her feet became entwined and she felt herself spinning towards the ground.

Someone grabbed hold of her arms and steadied her. She looked up and gasped.

“Why, hello, lovely Lydia. We meet again.”

As she stared up into the face she had fantasized about every night for the last two weeks, the blood in her veins flooded with heat.

Tristan’s dark blue eyes gazed down into hers, his firm lips curved in an inviting smile. He looked as handsome in reality as he had in her fantasies. His warm hands were still around her arms and the current she felt from his touch was jumpstarting nerve endings she had long thought numb. As she continued to stare up into his eyes, she was barely conscious of the people eddying around them.

“Um, hello,” she finally managed to say. She was painfully aware that he was seeing her in the glare of the sun instead of the darkness of the club. Every line and crease alongside her eyes and mouth seemed to itch and burn.

Tristan’s smile deepened, bringing out those sexy dimples on both sides of his mouth. “I told you we’d see each other again. It’s fate” He glanced at her arms. She was wearing a short sleeved yellow shirt over her green slacks. “Where's your jacket? Aren't you cold?”

“My jacket? Oh, it's at the store.”

She had been so intent on finding him that she’d run outside without any thought as to her jacket. It was warm for fall, but not that warm.

“The store?”

“I work at the new age store. The one you just left.”

“Really? I didn't see you there.”

“I was in the back. In the storeroom. Talking to my mother.”
Why was she babbling? She was sure he probably didn’t give a hoot as to whom she’d been talking to
. “I heard you, but by the time I got to the front you were gone.”

“And you came in search of me.” He reached up and brushed away an errant strand of hair, which a breeze had blown against her cheek. “I’m flattered.”

Her cheeks burned like hot coals at his touch. “I…uh…I wanted to…I thought I could…”

“I was hoping to see you again, too.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Unfortunately, since I didn't get your last name at the club I had no way of finding you.”

“I'm sorry about that. It was the first time I'd been out in a while. I was just being cautious. I didn't mean to be rude.”

“You were hardly being rude. You did the right thing. And, well, here we are, so it worked out for the best.”

She had fantasized about him so much that having him here in the flesh was hard for her to believe. But it wasn't a dream. He was here and he was real. She glanced at the people walking past them. A few of them gave her and Tristan double looks. She hoped it was only because he was so tall and so gorgeous and not because they were wondering what someone her age was doing with someone like him.

She stepped away from him and he let go of her arms. “I'd better get back to the store.”

“What time do you get off?”

She started, not sure she had heard him right. “What?”

“From work. What time will you be done?”

“Three. Why?”

He stared at her for a moment then laughed softly. He took a step towards her until he was only a hairsbreadth away. She smelled not only his cologne, which was some intoxicatingly musky scent, but she felt the heat of his body.

“Because, lovely Lydia, now that I’ve found you again, I don’t intend on losing you. I want to see you. If that’s all right with you, of course.”

He wanted to see her? Really? Even after she had blown him off at the club? Even when, in this pitiless sunlight he had to see that she was at least a decade older than he was.

“Yes. Sure. That’s fine. With me.”
Great, she sounded like an idiot
.
But she still wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.

“Great.” He glanced at the heavy gold and silver watch on his wrist. Because her ex had been into such things, she recognized it as a very expensive watch. “I’ll stop back at three.”

She nodded. “That would be fine. “
Still sounding stupid there, Lydia. Remember what Saffron said. Loosen up.

“Does coffee sound good?”

She nodded, not wanting to risk sounding even stupider.

He took her hand, lifted it and kissed the back of it. As his firm lips pressed against her skin, her pulse skittered, but she also couldn't help noticing that the people who passed them now were openly staring.

“Till then, lovely Lydia. I shall count the minutes until we meet.” He looked up at her from underneath his brows, his voice low, his breath caressing her hand. He gently released it, gave her another warm smile then turned and headed down the sidewalk.

She watched Tristan until he disappeared into the crowd. She felt silly doing so, but she wanted to convince herself that she hadn’t just dreamed their encounter. She headed back to the store. It felt as if she were floating ten feet off the ground. As a matter of fact, she hadn’t felt this giddy in a long time. Not since she was thirteen and had been on her way to the roller-skating rink with Winston Bailey, the boy who’d been her first crush.

The bell above the door tinkled and the smell of incense wrapped itself around her as she entered the store.

Elaine, who was behind the counter, looked up from the magazine she was reading. “So, did you find him?”

“Actually, he found me.”

“Are you and he dating?”

Lydia stiffened. She wondered if Tristan was more than just a customer to Elaine. “No. Not really. I met him the night I was out with Saffron.”

“At
The
Mortarboard
?”

Lydia nodded. “But we didn't actually meet. Someone was bothering me and Tristan made him stop.”

“Sounds like something he'd do. So that's his name? Tristan?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting.” Elaine twirled a strand of her blonde hair about her finger. “And here I was thinking of him as a Lancelot. Not as a Tristan.”

Lydia went over to the counter. “Was Tristan another of Arthur's knights?”

“Sort of. Depends on what you read. But he's the main character in some of the stories associated with the Arthurian legends. The most famous being the story of Tristan and Isolde.” She gave Lydia a keen look. “So you met him at the club and he chased away some jerk. Nothing else happened?”

“No, nothing else.” Lydia moved behind the counter and leaned against it. “What could have happened? You've seen him.” She laughed. A short, hard laugh. “Now, look at me.”

Elaine tilted her head. “I'm looking. And?”

Lydia threw up her hands. “He's your age and I'm…”

I’m old
, she thought, but didn’t say. And not just old, but discarded and cast-off. Traded in for a younger, sleeker model.

“All I see is a woman,” Elaine said. “And he's a man. What else is there to see?” She turned back to her magazine and flipped through the glossy pages.

“It's not that simple,” Lydia said.

Elaine snorted. “That's for sure. Especially if you’re going to make it more complicated than it has to be.”

“What do you mean?”

Elaine looked up from her magazine. “I know exactly what you're thinking. He's not only gorgeous and sinfully sexy but he's younger. So what? You're attracted to him, aren't you?”

“Well, I hardly know him but, yes, I am attracted to him.”

“And what did he say when you found him. Or he found you. Whichever.”

Lydia smiled, remembering. “He said he knew we were going to see each other again. That it was fate.”

“Well, there you are,” Elaine said. “What more do you want?”

She stared at Elaine. What more did she want? How about her being ten to fifteen years younger? Or, while they were at it, five, maybe ten pounds lighter? And, since they were on a roll, how about her not being afraid that the minute she opened her heart it wasn’t going to be ripped into a million pieces?

“You going to see him again?”

Lydia nodded, but she wasn’t as excited about it as she had been. Reality had hit her like cold water. She nervously fidgeted with a small amethyst crystal. “He's stopping by when I get off from work.”

“What?” Elaine glanced at the clock. “That's only an hour from now. You better get ready.” She slapped the magazine closed and stuffed it beneath the counter.

“Get ready? For what?”

Elaine moved towards the back room. “For your date. What else?”

She returned with her large cloth handbag. She tossed it on the counter, dug around in it and finally pulled out a clear plastic bag. She pointed to the stool behind the counter. “Sit down.”

Lydia hesitated as she had no idea what Elaine was up to.

The younger woman frowned and pointed again at the stool. “Sit!”

Lydia sat.

Elaine emptied the contents of the plastic bag onto the glass counter; bottles of foundation, silver tubes of lipstick and an assorted pile of makeupy things.

Lydia suspiciously eyed it. “What's all that?”

Elaine picked up an eye-pencil and moved it toward her face.

She jerked back. “What are you doing?”

Elaine released an exasperated sigh. “Fixing your face. What does it look like I'm doing?”

“Fixing my face? Is something wrong with it?”

“Ha, ha. You're so funny. Actually, you have very beautiful skin. And your coloring is great.”

“My coloring?”

“That auburn hair, those honey-colored eyes, your warm skin tone.” Elaine nodded. “You're definitely an Autumn.”

“Autumn? What does that mean? I'm old?”

Elaine laughed. “No, silly. It's your coloring. Now be still.”

Cupping Lydia's chin, Elaine carefully lined her eyes with the eye-pencil.

“What if a customer comes in?” Lydia asked.

Elaine shrugged. “We'll just tell 'em we're demonstrating new makeup.”

“But we don't sell makeup.”

Elaine only shrugged again.

“Why did Tristan come into the store?” Lydia asked.

Elaine was peering intently at her face. “To pick up an order.”

“What order?”

“Don’t know. A piece of jewelry I think. He’d already pre-ordered and paid on it. I just handed the box over to him.”

“Has he been here before?”

“A few times.”

“What does he buy?”

Elaine screwed up her face as she remembered. “Books.”

“What kind of books?”

“Books on alchemy.”

“Alchemy?” There was a section in the store on alchemy, but Lydia didn’t know much about the subject.

“Don’t ask me why alchemy. An interest of his, I guess.”

For the next few minutes Elaine continued to, as she called it, fix Lydia's face. When she was done, she stepped back and inspected Lydia like an artist admiring her latest creation. Then she smiled and nodded. “Looks great. Go on. Take a look at yourself.”

A mirror hung on the wall next to a shelf of meditation books. Lydia went over to it. She gasped at her reflection. “Is that really me?”

Elaine moved next to her and grinned. “It sure is. You look amazing.”

Lydia turned her head back and forth. “I do. I look…”

“Gorgeous,” Elaine finished. “Not that you weren't beautiful before.”

“Stop it. I'm not beautiful. Much less gorgeous.”

“So you say.”

Elaine went back to the counter, swept the pile of makeup into the plastic bag and stuffed it back into her cloth handbag. Then she turned and looked over at Lydia. “Don't be so hard on yourself.” Her green eyes were serious. “You really are lovely, Lydia.”

Tristan had called her that. Lovely Lydia. Just remembering the way he had said it caused her body to respond in a way that brought a heated blush back to her cheeks and a fluttering deep in her sex.

Good grief, she thought, if she got this excited just from recalling how he said her name, what was she going to do when he showed up?

If he shows up
, she reminded herself, as she moved away from the mirror.