Real Romance (10 page)

"Hey! You kids need glasses—there's an optician's shop right there!"

Marie burst into a giggle and buried her head in his shoulder.

"You," she said, whacking him on his backside, "are impossible."

"Spank me again," he said with a naughty grin, "I liked it."

Liked it? Oh my, she had liked it too. She was enjoying the sexual playfulness between them, without a trace of her usual inhibition.

"Come on," he said, securing an arm around her waist. "My car's over there."

"Car?" Marie asked, a little disappointed she wouldn't be treated to another bicycle ride. "But I thought you biked in. Good for the environment and all that."

David grimaced. Well, hey, it had sounded good at the time. Very Cecil-like. And Cecil, it was apparent, knew all about women like Marie. When David had gone back to Books & Bistro to thank him for his reading suggestions, he'd been told that Cecil had run off to New York with some girl writer half his age. The man had probably established that mind link he'd been talking about. David guessed that when it came to intelligent women, Cecil definitely knew his stuff.

"Ah yeah, right," David said, sliding his key into the passenger door. "Environment's definitely a top priority. Greenspace and all that."

"Greenpeace?" Marie asked, looking up as she adjusted her seat belt.

David smiled and shut the door. Boy, he'd have to watch what he said with her. She clearly knew more about all this than he did.

A frigid burst of wind reddened David's face as he scooted around the car.

"David," Marie said, as he climbed in and started the engine. "Your teeth are chattering. You really shouldn't have gone out without a coat."

Maybe not. But in his hurry to rush past Caroline, picking up his belongings had been the last thing on his mind.

"I'll be all right," he said, flipping on the heater. "At least until my boss catches up with me."

"What about your boss?" Marie asked, as they pulled away from the curb and headed towards campus. "Do you think she'll really let you go?"

"I doubt it." David eyed the digital car clock. "Look, it's almost six anyway. Caroline can just as easily close the shop as I can."

"Yeah, but how do you know that—after today—she won't change the locks?"

David chuckled. "Well, you can be sure she'll be mad at first. Caroline has a temper. But after a while, and especially after she's talked to Jim, she'll calm down and forgive me."

"Jim?" Marie asked, relieved to at last be able to unbutton her sweltering coat.

"Caroline's husband. A true romantic."

"Really?"

"Sure. He's a screenwriter."

"No kidding?" She wriggled her arms out of her coat one at a time. "What does he write?"

"Romantic comedy, of course." David flashed a big smile. "We could sure give him a few pointers."

Marie adjusted her glasses, hoping he was joking.

"Hey," David said, patting her arm. "Don't look so worried. I'm only kidding!"

She let out a soft breath, then sat bolt upright.

"Oh my gosh, David," she said, bringing her hands to her face, "I left my book in there."

"Silence In The Trees?
Hey, don't worry about it. I'll just pick it up tomorrow."

"Not your book, mine!"

"Well, what's the big deal? I can bring it to you."

The big deal, the very big deal, was that the book Marie'd left at the optician's shop was
Check It Out,
a romance about a small town librarian who, thanks to the local physician, happily finds the cure for all her libidinal ills.

"Besides," David said, laying a firm hand on her thigh. "Something tells me that—this evening—neither of us is going to have much time for reading."

"David," Marie said, as he stood fumbling with his key at the door to his upstairs apartment. "I think we might be taking this a little fast."

Fast? Oh, no. David could practically hear the mental brakes grinding to a halt.

"We can take it at any speed you want," he said, his key finally engaging in the lock. He looked at her reassuringly.

"Listen, Marie, I'm not the kind who's going to pressure you into anything, if that's what you're afraid of."

She shivered a little. David pressuring her was not the trouble. It was the way that she couldn't seem to keep her hands off of
him
that had her worried.

Against her better judgment, Marie nodded and stepped into the lion's lair. A quick image of him on all fours on the floor of Books & Bistro burned through her mind, and she shivered again.

"Nice place," she said, looking around at the living area, sparsely furnished with odds and ends. It was all one room, with a galley kitchen at the far end. Marie looked at the large platform bed in the corner, then looked quickly back to David.

"Not much furniture. Mostly Grandma's attic, if you know what I mean. But I make do."

He grinned and she felt all hot and cold at the same time.

"Here," he said, lifting the coat she had lightly draped over her shoulders when she'd exited the car, "let me hang this up for you."

David reached over and hooked her coat on a rack by the front door, then took her by the arm.

"Come on," he said, his voice as smooth as whiskey, "let me show you around."

"There's more?" she asked, catching her breath as his hand slid down her sweatered arm and felt for her palm.

Marie tugged at the front of her dress, suffocating in its ribbed tightness.

"If you're getting too warm..." David said, looking down at her in a way that seemed to stop time.

She counted the heartbeats drumming loudly in her ear. When she got to three, David reached up and brought his free hand to her face.

Her heart raced past four, and, before she knew it, she was pressing seven. If she got to ten, something told her, she would not be able to stop whatever it was they were about to be doing.

"Marie," he whispered, as she counted eight... then nine....

David leaned in for a kiss.

"Oh!" Marie shouted, stepping backwards and dropping his hand.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

He looked earnestly into her eyes and placed both hands on her trembling shoulders.

She squeezed her eyes shut—hard. But in her imagination, it wasn't David that she saw. Only Cecil. Cecil and Paul, the two of them throwing their heads back in hilarity at how easy she was.

"You think," she asked softly, as her eyes blinked open, "we could open a window?"

"A window?" David stood upright and scratched the back of his head. "Sure, sweetheart, anything you want."

"Do you call all your women sweetheart?" Marie asked, nabbing a magazine off a cluttered end table and fanning her face.

"Beg pardon?"

"Sweetheart."

"Yes, dear—" he said, drawing closer, the fire in his eyes seeming to reignite.

"No, no," Marie said, pushing him back. "Answer the question."

David frowned. "Now, what would that be?"

"Do you," she asked, blowing out a hard breath and tugging at her dress again, "call all your women sweetheart?"

David stopped for a moment, as if to think, then walked to the window and threw it open wide.

"First," he said, as he slipped back behind her and linked his arms under her chest, "let's get this straight."

Marie bit her lip, as his hand brushed her hair and his heated breath tickled her nape.

"There
are
no other women. There have been no other women—ever since I first laid eyes on you."

He lowered his lips to her neck and trailed kisses to her ear.

"David—" Marie said, wishing he would stop and then wishing he wouldn't.

She let out a cry of half surprise, half pleasure as he turned her around slowly. His hungry mouth fell upon hers and ravished her lips, moving down swiftly to the soft, vulnerable spot at the base of her neck.

"David—" she groaned, as the magazine she'd been holding fell to the floor.

David pulled back, his hair disheveled, passion in his eyes.

"Oh, Marie. Baby. Sweetheart. You make me crazy. So totally crazy. But I promised... I know I did. If you want me to stop, tell me now." He sighed. "Because another minute or two of this and I don't think..."

Marie ran her sweating palms through her long, loose hair, knowing exactly what he meant. She had no business being here, putting herself in such a compromising position with a man who...

Her eyes dropped to the floor.

"What's this?" she asked, swooping down like a raven and pulling the magazine off the carpet.

David swaggered back a step and straightened his shirt collar.

"Oh, it's just one of those book-biz magazines I subscribe to."

Marie flipped the
Publishers Weekly
over in her hand, but saw no address label.

David snatched back the magazine and smiled between his teeth.

"Not that I actually subscribe to this one. Gotta cut costs somewhere. Bought this issue at the newsstand."

She lifted one eyebrow. He was acting very suspicious.
Publishers Weekly
cost twice as much at the newsstand.

But, why oh why, should that surprise her? It appeared that all the men who read that rag had something to hide.

Red flag number three—or was it four, by now?—went up the pole.

Marie paled. Seeing red, she realized, made even the most mentally challenged of animals want to run.

Without another word, Marie walked over and grabbed her coat off the rack.

A befuddled David raced toward her. "Wait! What happened? What did I do?"

"I don't even know," she said, opening the door. "Guess that's the point." She walked out.

David stood there in utter disbelief, his tiny apartment still resonating from the sound of the slamming door.

"Thanks a lot Cecil," he said, chucking the
Publishers Weekly
into the trash.

And then he bolted out the door and sprinted after her.

Marie was crying so hard she couldn't see two feet in front of her. This was it. Absolutely it. With the exception of her romance heroes, from this point forward all men were off limits.

After all she had done to build a life, these—cavemen came along and scattered it to stones. Loving Paul was an innocent mistake, her first wide-eyed romance, so she hardly blamed herself—even at this point—for falling for him.

By the time she'd met Cecil, she should have known better. At twenty-seven, she wasn't exactly an innocent anymore. But, for all her savvy, she might as well have been Little Red Riding Hood.

And now, here was David—the man with the irresistible eyes who told such nice lies. First there was that little story about the bike. Environmental awareness—hah! She was sure now it had been a ploy to get her close to his admittedly perfect body.

And then, all that nonsense about literary fiction and the obviously unread copy of
Publishers Weekly.

For all Marie knew, David probably didn't read anything without a centerfold.

She pulled herself to a stop at the corner near the familiar display of lights. Books & Bistro's elegant awning stood out among the group of shops that lined the outdoor mall.

David raced through the darkness, wondering where on earth she'd gone. He ran to the corner and frantically called left and right, before deciding to head back to the mall. If she'd gone anywhere, it had to be the bookstore. Her car would be there, at least.

David crossed the street and picked up speed, his toned thighs swinging into motion.

What had she been thinking,
he asked himself, his head pounding as he ran.

He maintained his speed, crossing the second street, which, fortunately, was free of traffic. His panic-stricken eyes continued to search side streets.

What if she'd wandered off? What if she'd gotten lost?

In Covesville?

David stopped at the crosswalk, acknowledging the absurdity of the notion. He was gasping for air, leaning forward to catch his breath, when he looked up and saw her disappearing into her car.

Oh, hell, no!

David ignored the Don't Walk sign and bolted into traffic, dodging angry drivers as several cars nearly collided, screeching to a halt in the middle of the busy intersection.

But by the time he got to the parking lot, all that remained of Marie were her tail lights fading in the night.

Chapter Ten