by Jan Gordon
“What just happened?”
Cole looked up at me and stood before taking the bag of food from me. “Your cat needed to be reassured. He knows his territory is safe now, so he’ll accept me.”
“You an expert on cats?” I asked as I threw my coat over the end of the banister and dropped my purse on the hall table.
Cole shrugged. “Yeah, you could say I know my way around felines.”
That was odd; I would never have pegged him as a cat person. “Come on, we can eat in the kitchen,” and I led the way into the kitchen.
“You like cats? Wow. Apart from knowing that you bought the Wicks’ place, that’s the first solid fact I know about you.” I couldn’t help but let a touch of sarcasm into my voice.
He put the bag of food on the table and started to take the containers out while I took plates and wine glasses out of the cabinets and brought them to the table. “I don’t have chopsticks; do you mind a plain old knife and fork?”
“No problem.” He filled the glasses with wine and set out the plates. I returned to the table with the utensils and started to open containers and put food on my plate. Soon we were both seated with plates of steaming food in front of us, having made good use of the microwave.
“I was serious; I really don’t know anything about you.”
Cole didn’t meet my eyes when he asked, “What do you want to know?”
“Why don’t we start with something simple? Like, how old are you?” I smiled but it was wasted because Cole kept his gaze on his plate.
“Old enough to know what I want and how to get it.” Well, that was anything but a straight answer!
“I meant in actual years.”
“Older than you.” This time he looked up at me and his eyes crinkled a little at the corners, as if he was thinking of smiling.
“You don’t know how old I am.”
“I’m guessing late twenties. If you’re older then you don’t look your age.” This time he did smile.
“Twenty-nine. You’re a good judge.” I picked up my wine and took a sip. “What do you do for a living?”
“This and that. I’ve made some lucky investments and I manage okay.” Again he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
I thought about that for a moment and realized that he was probably independently wealthy. Wouldn’t that be heaven, never having to worry about a bill again? We ate in silence for a while, this time a comfortable silence, when something struck me as odd. “Cole, how did you find me? After the robbery at the gas station; how did you find out who I was?”
“Simple enough.” He shrugged. “I went back to the gas station the next day and started up a conversation with the clerk while I was paying for gas. He was only too willing to talk about the incident. It wasn’t too difficult to get him to mention you. He was just a kid and didn’t know your name, just that you were the ‘chick who owns the used book store in town’.” He smiled at me then went back to eating. A minute later he looked up again. “What about you? The store must do well if you can afford a home like this.”
“This was my parents’ house. They were killed in a traffic accident soon after I came home from college. Being their only child, they left both the house and the store to me.” Memories of my parents flooded my mind. Their laughter, their happiness, and I felt a wave of grief at the magnitude of my loss.
He put down his fork and reached out to touch my hand. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to reopen an old wound.” I looked at him quizzically, wondering how he knew what I was thinking. “You have a very expressive face.”
“It’s okay, I usually remember my parents with happiness, it’s only occasionally the sadness comes through. Somehow, that sadness anchors me.” I spoke without thinking. There was something in this man that made me open up to him. And I was grateful for his comfort. He was still holding my hand and I turned it over and gripped his in return. “My mother owned the store and my father commuted into the city, he worked for one of the larger banks. I was close to both my parents but more so to my mother and when she died, I needed to hold on to something that was hers, so instead of selling the store, I decided to keep it on and run it myself.”
We finished eating and I packed away the leftovers in the refrigerator. I straightened up from putting the last of the containers on the shelves to find Cole standing right behind me as I turned around. I hadn’t heard him come up behind me and I stumbled, forcing him to put his hands on my arms to steady me. Suddenly I found it difficult to breathe and I felt my heart beginning to race. I heard his voice but I couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. “Wh... what?”
Cole released one of my arms and smoothed some of my hair, which had escaped my ponytail, back behind my ear. “I said, why don’t you take your wine into the living room and I’ll wash these dishes.”
“Oh no, you’re my guest, I should do that.”
“You’re the tired one, remember?” He held out my glass for me to take, which I did, and then he turned me around and gave me a little push toward the living room.
When he joined me a few minutes later, I was by the mantel looking at pictures of my parents and a smiling, younger me. “You look like you were a happy family.” He was standing very close behind me and I looked up and over my shoulder at him.
“Yes we were.” I smiled at my memories. There had always been love and warmth in this house while my parents had been alive. “What about you? Do you get to see your parents much?”
It was like a shutter came down over his face. His expression became hard and cold. “We had a falling out some years ago; I haven’t seen or spoken to them since.”
I turned to face him and placed a hand on his chest. “I’m sorry, Cole.”
He covered my hand with his and lifted it to his lips. His kiss, light as it was, sent shivers radiating out from the point of impact. “It’s all ancient history and I learned to stand on my own two feet pretty quickly. I’ve done all right without them.” Keeping hold of my hand he moved over to sit on the couch pulling me with him. I stole a glance at his face; the bleak look that he’d had when I mentioned his parents had gone and he looked relaxed again.
I settled down next to him, close but not too close. I picked up my glass of wine from where I’d left it on the coffee table and took a sip. I was just thinking what to say or do next – it’d been so long since I’d had a date of any kind – when he saved me the trouble.
“I should be going, you’re tired.” He took my glass from my hand and placed it back on the coffee table, he then stood pulling me up with him. “I promised earlier I would be on my best behavior, but I want to kiss you.” Gently he stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers. “Will you slap me if I kiss you, really kiss you?”
My mind was a whirlpool of thoughts, but the one that surfaced above all the others was that it was just a kiss, and I hadn’t been kissed in such a long time. I didn’t see the harm in one kiss. “No,” I replied in a voice just above a whisper and my eyes fluttered closed in anticipation, “I won’t slap you.”
I felt his hand on the back of my neck and I allowed him to pull me gently toward him. His lips, when they touched mine, were soft but insistent. I returned the pressure until I felt his tongue against the seam of my lips and I pulled back slightly. Something registered as odd; the roughness of his tongue had taken me by surprise. I opened my eyes, looked into his and saw nothing but gentleness in their depths, so I leaned back toward him. My lips seemed to open of their own accord to allow him entry and he dipped his tongue into my mouth. I nervously met his tongue with my own and suddenly the texture felt right as he stroked my tongue with his.
He slipped his other hand around to the small of my back and held me closer; the combination of the feel of his hard, lean body against mine and the sensuousness of his tongue stroking mine, made my legs feel like jelly. When he released my mouth, I would have fallen if his hand hadn’t remained on my back.
I sighed, and rested my head against his shoulder. I wanted more, so mu
ch more.
Cole, however, had more control than I, and after stroking my hair for a moment, he set me away from him. “Can I see you tomorrow night?”
I nodded and cleared my throat. “Yes.”
In a dream-like state I watched him walk back into the kitchen and return after a minute. I looked at him questioningly.
“I wrote my cell number on the pad by the phone, in case you need to contact me.” He walked me to the door and pulled me in for another kiss. This one was closed mouth and quick, but it still left me wanting more, and as he pulled away I leaned toward him. With a chuckle he lowered his face to mine and kissed me again; his tongue pushing its way in past my lips with no protest from me. I lifted my arms and held on to his shoulders like a drowning woman holding on to a life saver.
“Tomorrow, I’ll pick you up here at eight.” He kissed my forehead. “Dinner.” He kissed my nose. “At a restaurant.” With a quick kiss to my lips he opened the door and walked out into the night.
Dazed I turned to walk back into the living room, and then realized he had come home with me in my car; he had no means of getting back. I turned and ran to the front door. I pulled it open and raced out into the front yard calling his name. I’d been expecting to catch him right near my house, but there was no sign of him. I ran out to the road and looked in each direction, but the street was deserted. What the hell?
Confused I walked slowly back into the house, closed and locked the front door. He could either run like the wind or... I couldn’t think of an ‘or.’
I had a little wine left in my glass so I took it over to my favorite armchair, picked up my new novel and settled down to read. Even though the book was exactly the sort I liked – all about vampires and shape shifters – after ten minutes of trying to concentrate on the printed word, I gave up and rested my head against the cushioned back of the chair. All I could think of were Cole’s kisses and how much I wanted more than just kisses from him. Would I say yes when he asked for more? I thought I just might. I liked him. I really, really liked him.
Chapter Five
The following morning I was at my store bright and early and opened up exactly at nine-thirty. I’d slept so well that I’d woken up feeling refreshed and energized. I’d even given Mister a cuddle, which he hadn’t exactly appreciated; he’d wanted his breakfast instead.
Saturday mornings were always slow, so I had plenty of time to daydream about Cole. I kept telling myself that I was mooning over him like a love-sick teenager, but I couldn’t help myself.
I’d had a few customers during the early part of the morning and then at around eleven I had an unexpected visitor. I looked up as the bell chimed to announce the new arrival. Every time I heard that sound I hoped it was Cole dropping by to say hello, once again I was disappointed. However, my visitor wasn’t a customer, it was Deputy Garvin.
“Good morning, Deputy Garvin.” My public smile was firmly affixed to my face.
“Ms. Hudson.” He nodded a greeting. Chuck Garvin had been a couple of years ahead of me at school and he knew me, so the fact that he was being formal tipped me off that this was official business and probably about the robbery.
“I hope you’ve gotten over your experience the other night. I’ve got some photos of likely suspects for you to look at.” He laid out three pictures on the counter in front of me. “Do you recognize any of these men? They all fit the description you gave.”
I looked at the faces carefully; they were all white with scraggly beards and all in their early twenties. I pointed to one of them. “That’s him, I’d swear to it. Who is he?”
“Jimmy Kincaid. A user, who steals to feed his habit.”
“Deputy... Chuck, am I in danger? And please be honest when you answer.”
“Yeah, Vic, he could come looking for you if he feels cornered. Make sure you lock your doors at night, you hear? We’ll put your street on the patrol route but we just don’t have the manpower to watch over you all the time.” He hitched up his belt and collected the photos before leaving, hopefully to go look for Kincaid.
I wasn’t afraid that Kincaid would come into the store during broad daylight so I relaxed and served my customers as they came in. It seemed that Mrs. Weston had been recommending the new genre she had started reading. Everyone wanted books on vampires and weres, witches and demons. I enjoyed recommending books and discussing the pros and cons of the different beings in the genre. I tended to go for the vampires and the weres, but some of my customers preferred the magic of witches and demons.
I closed the store at five-thirty instead of my usual six because I wanted the extra time to get ready for Cole. This was a real date, not like the spontaneous decisions of the last couple of days. I drove home, raced into the house and up the stairs. It was only when I was about to step into the shower that I remembered I hadn’t locked the front door when I came in. I put on my gown and went back downstairs to lock the door.
I flipped the latch and threw the deadbolt; I then got a little paranoid and rather self-consciously collected the poker from the fireplace in the living room. I held it tightly in my hand as I climbed the stairs to the bathroom again and placed it against the vanity before restarting the shower.
ooOOOoo
I fixed my hair so that it fell in soft waves down to my shoulders and put on a little more makeup than I usually wear for work. Although, even by most women’s standards, it would still be considered hardly any at all.
That morning, before work, I’d had enough time to choose an outfit for the evening. I’d picked out a pretty black see-through lace blouse which was worn over a cream silk camisole with a built-in bra. I decided to combine that with a cream skirt that ended just below my knees. I had no intention of wearing pantyhose, even though it was a little cool after sundown, I hated the damn things.
I was ready with ten minutes to spare and was getting steadily more and more nervous as I waited for Cole to arrive.
At eight o’clock, almost to the second, there was a knock on the door. Even though I was expecting Cole, I was mindful of my previous fears about Kincaid. Before I unlocked the door, I slipped the security chain into place and looked out of the window to make sure it was him.
Opening the door, I saw Cole’s smiling face through the gap allowed by the chain. I held a finger up to tell him to wait. It only took me a couple of seconds to close the door and unhook the chain.
I opened the door all the way and Cole stepped in, giving me a quick kiss in greeting. “You look beautiful.”
I smiled with pleasure at the compliment. “Sorry about the chain, but the police came by the store today with some photos. I identified the robber and now I’m spooked.”
“You’re right to be careful. Did they say they would keep an eye on you?” He stayed by the door while I picked up my purse from the hall table and took a jacket from the hall closet.
“Deputy Garvin said they would add my street to the patrols but they were too short-handed to keep someone on me full-time.” I stepped out the door and made sure it was double locked before joining Cole at his truck. He opened the passenger door for me and gave me his other hand to help me climb up into the seat. He reached in and fastened my seat belt for me before I could even look for the strap. He shut my door and I considered his outdated manners for a moment as he walked around the front of the vehicle to his side. I decided I was enjoying the way his treatment of me made me feel. I was an independent woman, used to doing things and doing them my way. But Cole didn’t make me feel inferior with his gentleman-like ways, he made me feel feminine and... cherished. It was an odd feeling, but I kinda liked it.
Cole drove to a tiny Italian restaurant in town called La Cucina. It was just a few streets away from my bookstore and I’d eaten there before. The food was home-style Italian with lots of pasta in different types of sauces. The restaurant was owned by Patrizio and Ghita Russo; they’d both been born in the States but their parents had come from Italy and had instilled, in all their kids, a deep and
abiding love for their mother country. The next generation, Ghita and Pat’s children, had been typical all-American kids, they were grown up now and had moved out of Farmingdale.
Pat greeted us at the door as soon as we entered. “Good evening, bella Victoria. It’s so good to see you. How are you?”
I allowed myself to be engulfed in his cologne scented embrace. “I’m good, Pat, and you? How’s Ghita?”
“We’re both well. But you don’t know our big news.” He beamed at me. I could guess what his news was but I let him tell it, as he was obviously bursting to do just that. “We’re grandparents again!”
“Oh congratulations! Maggie had her baby? Boy or girl?” None of Pat and Ghita’s children had been given typically Italian names, which had been a break with tradition in their family. They were all married now and constantly enlarging the Russo clan.
“A beautiful baby girl.” He became aware of Cole standing behind me and gave him a curious look before holding out his hand in greeting, although to be honest, I wondered how anyone could miss seeing him. But Pat had been so tied up with imparting his big news that I forgave him. “I’m Patrizio Russo, welcome to my restaurant, Mr..?
Cole stepped forward and shook his hand, “Colburn, Steven Colburn. We have a reservation.”
“Yes, yes, of course. This way please.” He led us over to a table for two. I’m sure Pat would have held my chair for me while I sat down, but Cole beat him to it. Once I was comfortably seated, Cole moved to sit opposite me, but stopped before sitting down. I smiled when I realized what he was going to do and concentrated on placing my napkin on my lap while he moved the place setting and the chair next to me and sat down.
Cole’s proximity to me was the part that I remember most from that meal. I can’t, for the life of me, remember what I ate. Cole’s thigh kept brushing my knee; he held my hand or played with my fingers between courses. And we talked. Well, mostly I talked. He asked questions and I answered. I told him all about my parents, about my miserable high school years, and my college years. We talked about books, yeah, we talked a lot about books.
