His cousin just grinned. “So, are you here for food or drinks or both?”
“Both,” Andrew said.
“Tell me what you want to drink and I’ll go grab a couple of menus.”
He looked at Rachel. She wasn’t much of a beer drinker, so she asked for a shandy; Andrew ordered a Guinness, and the waitress went to get their beverages.
While they were in the arena, Rachel had the distraction of the game to focus on. Now, even though there were plenty of other customers in the restaurant, she felt as if she was alone with him. Or maybe it was Jordyn’s teasing that had somehow turned their casual outing into a date and caused the butterflies to start winging around in her tummy.
They accepted Jordyn’s recommendation of the potato cakes as their appetizer, and Rachel decided to try the cottage pie for her main course while Andrew opted for the lamb stew.
The pub was doing a brisk business and there were only two waitresses on duty, so Jordyn was kept busy—or maybe she was just giving them space. She checked in periodically, offering refills on drinks and ensuring they were satisfied with their meals, but she didn’t hover.
She suggested coffee after dinner, which they both accepted, and dessert, which they both declined. When their cups were empty and the bill was settled—this time Jordyn let him win the battle over payment—Andrew again left Rachel waiting inside the warmth of the pub while he went to get the car.
“Are you working tomorrow?” he asked, when they were finally headed back to her apartment.
She shook her head. “Trish and Elaine are in charge tomorrow so that Holly and I can both attend her grandmother’s ninetieth birthday party.”
“The same grandmother she came to live with when she was in second grade?”
She nodded. “And because I spent so much time with Holly and all of my grandparents live in other parts of the country, Phoebe sort of adopted me as one of her own.”
“Are your parents still in town?”
“No, they retired to Arizona a few years back.”
“Any siblings besides the basketball player?”
“Just Rick. He lives in Raleigh with his wife and two little boys.”
He turned into the parking lot of her apartment building and found a vacant spot in the designated visitors’ section. “How old are your nephews?”
“Five and seven.”
“Do you spend much time with them?”
“As much as I can and still not nearly enough.” She unbuckled her seat belt and reached for the handle of the door. Of course, he was already out of the car and opening it for her.
“You don’t have to walk me to the door,” she protested.
“My mother would be appalled if I didn’t,” he told her.
“I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“She has ways of finding things out.”
She slid her key into the exterior lock. “Your parents live in Charisma?”
“My parents and two younger brothers, along with a few aunts and uncles and numerous cousins besides Jordyn.”
This time he followed her into the building and to the elevator.
She wanted to know more about him and his family, but once the elevator doors closed, she was suddenly conscious of being alone with him again. And all the way up to the seventh floor, she wondered if he was going to kiss her again.
She hoped he would. And she told herself that she would be ready for it this time. But being prepared for his kiss did nothing to lessen the impact.
The brush of his mouth against hers caused tingles of awareness to dance over her skin. The slide of his hands around her back made her heart pound and her body ache. And when his tongue swirled around hers, her bones turned to jelly. Her hands were on his shoulders, holding on to him for balance as the world spun around her. And still he continued to kiss her.
No, it wasn’t just a kiss—it was a seduction. He was seducing her with nothing more than a kiss. A mind-scrambling, body-numbing kiss.
She wasn’t the type of woman to jump into bed with a man she barely knew. At least she’d never been so before. But she was hovering on the brink of inviting Andrew to come inside. Her hands slid off his shoulders and he linked them with his. The twining of their fingers together, the slide of his palm against hers was incredibly erotic. Oh, how she wanted to feel those hands on her body.
Then he squeezed her hands gently, and she felt the cool, hard metal of the band around the third finger of his left hand.
His wedding ring.
The heat pounding through her veins instantly cooled. She eased her mouth from his and drew in a slow, deep breath.
She knew that he was no longer married. Not technically. But the fact that he still wore the ring confirmed that he still felt connected—and committed—to the woman he’d married. Until he was ready to take that ring off his finger, it would a mistake for Rachel to think that a relationship between them could lead to anything other than heartache.
With genuine regret, she pulled her hand from his. As her fingers curled around the knob of the door, she held his gaze for another moment, wishing the evening could be ending differently.
“Good night, Andrew.”
Chapter Five
As Andrew drove back to his empty house, he found himself thinking about—and regretting—Rachel’s abrupt withdrawal.
He knew why she’d pulled back when he’d decided he was ready to move full speed ahead. It was the wedding ring he’d almost forgotten was still on his finger.
The gold band had been there for so long that he honestly didn’t even think about it anymore. Nor had he ever given serious consideration to taking it off. For a long time after his wife had died, he’d refused to even contemplate relinquishing this reminder of the vows they’d made to one another. He’d removed Nina’s engagement ring and wedding band from her finger before the funeral, and he’d put them aside for Maura one day, but there had been no reason to take off his own.
Because he’d still felt married. He certainly didn’t love his wife any less just because she wasn’t there anymore.
In fact, for months he’d continued to sleep on “his” side of the bed, and woken up in the morning reaching for her. And when he’d remembered that she wasn’t there, his heart had ached. Gradually the pain had faded, but still the gold band had remained. As he twisted the ring around his finger now, he wondered if it was time for that to change.
No one had ever seemed to worry about its significance before. Certainly it hadn’t prevented other women from propositioning him. He wondered what it said about Rachel that she couldn’t ignore this symbol of his commitment to someone else.
If they ended up in bed together, would it mean more to her than just sex? Was she looking for a relationship? What was the rationale behind her sixteen-month dating hiatus? Because he was sure there had to be a reason.
Was she looking for a casual relationship or something a little more serious? She was only twenty-seven years old—the same age as his youngest brother, and the same age he’d been when he’d married Nina, two years his junior. And although that had only been eight years ago, he knew that a lot of women today didn’t want to think about settling down until they were in their thirties, if even then.
Was Rachel one of those women? Did she ever want to marry and have kids? And why was he even asking himself these questions after two dates? Or was it only one date? Their Valentine’s Day encounter, when they’d had dinner together at Valentino’s and then gone bowling, probably didn’t even count as a date. It had simply been a spontaneous outing of two people who didn’t have any other plans.
But the fact was, he’d found himself thinking about her a lot since that night—even when he’d deliberately tried to put her out of his mind.
Nate would say that he was horny, and no doubt that w
as a factor. He hadn’t been with a woman since Nina, and she’d been gone more than three years now.
He’d been attracted to other women, had felt the stirring of desire in his blood. But that stirring had never been strong enough to spur him into action. He’d kissed other women, but none of those kisses had made him want more. Now that he’d kissed Rachel, he actually ached with wanting.
Maybe it was finally time to take off his ring and look to his future rather than hold on to the past.
* * *
As a result of owning and operating Buy The Book—a local bookstore—for more than fifty years, Phoebe Lamontagne knew a lot of people in Charisma. The explosion of online publishing and selling had put a lot of bricks-and-mortar bookstores out of business, but Buy The Book not only remained standing, it continued to be successful. A few years earlier, Phoebe had brought in her youngest granddaughter, Kinsley, as a partner in the business so that she could retire. But every day that the shop opened its doors, Phoebe was there.
Most people agreed that it had to be difficult for her to let go of something that had been part of her usual routine for more than fifty years, and a lot of the store’s regular customers looked forward to chatting with her as they browsed the shelves and made their purchases. It was only her most loyal customers and closest friends who had been invited to have tea in the back, where Phoebe dealt tarot cards and performed palm readings.
Rachel and Holly had spent a lot of time in that back room with Phoebe when they were kids. They’d been fascinated by the crystals and the charms and the scents and colors. As they grew older and began to understand more about the nature of the business, Holly had taken a deliberate step back, not wanting to be involved with what she referred to as her grandmother’s hocus-pocus. Rachel had considered it a harmless hobby, and although she’d missed lazy afternoons hanging out in the back room, she’d stuck with her best friend.
As she weaved her way through the crowd that had gathered in the store to celebrate Phoebe’s birthday, Rachel smiled to realize that most of those in attendance had been in Phoebe’s magic room at various times throughout the years. She found the nonagenarian in the storytime circle of the kids’ department, blatantly flirting with Calvin Russell, a recently divorced chiropractor who was at least forty years her junior.
“Sorry to interrupt, Gram,” Rachel said, kissing the old woman’s cheek.
“Calvin and I were just discussing some new adjustments that might help me sleep better,” Phoebe told her.
“And I was monopolizing the guest of honor,” the doctor realized. “Call me this week, Phoebs, and we’ll set something up.”
“I will,” she promised.
He left with a “Happy Birthday” and a kiss on the old woman’s cheek.
Rachel waited until Calvin was out of hearing before she asked, “Since when do you have trouble sleeping, Phoebs?”
“Since never,” Phoebe admitted.
“So why do you need to see a chiropractor?”
“Because it’s only one of a very few ways that a woman my age gets to feel a man’s hands on her body.”
The comment was so typically Phoebe, Rachel couldn’t help but laugh. “I hope you live another ninety years,” she said sincerely.
Gram smiled. “I’m glad you came today. I know you’re busy with the shop, and it means a lot to me that you’re here.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” she said, and offered the square package she’d brought. “Happy Birthday.”
The old woman ran her hands over the box, assessing its size and shape. “It’s from The Sweet Spot,” she decided. “Something truly decadent and delicious... Maybe Belgian chocolate truffles.”
“If you could tell that much through the paper, you must be psychic.”
Phoebe chuckled and patted the empty seat beside her, urging Rachel to sit. “Or I have faith that you remembered my favorite indulgence.”
“Always,” Rachel promised.
“So why are you here by yourself?”
“I’m not—I came with Holly.”
Gram shook her head. “I meant, why didn’t you bring your boyfriend?”
“I don’t have one,” Rachel told her, because as much as she might wish otherwise, she didn’t think two impromptu outings and a couple of sizzling kisses made Andrew Garrett her boyfriend.
“Why not?”
“I’m too busy enjoying the single life,” she said lightly.
Phoebe shook her head. “That’s always Holly’s excuse, and I’m afraid, in her case, it’s true. She doesn’t like to be tied down—or she thinks she doesn’t, because she worries that she’s got wanderlust in her veins like her mother. But you want roots, stability, a family.”
“I thought you retired from all aspects of your business.”
“Some signs are too obvious to ignore.”
“What signs?” Rachel challenged.
“The wistful expression on your face when you saw Stuart Torrance touch his pregnant wife’s belly.”
Her smile was wry. “Okay, you caught me.”
“So I’ll ask you again—why don’t you have a boyfriend?”
“I seem to be attracted to all the wrong men.”
The older woman’s gaze narrowed. “You’re holding something back.”
“It’s your birthday, Gram. You should be mingling with your family and friends, not trying to solve my relationship woes.”
“I wish I could steer you toward my grandson, Gary, but he’s not the right man for you.”
“Why not?” she asked curiously.
“He’s too much like his sister. You need someone who wants the same thing you do—roots, family, commitment. But also someone who fires your passion and pushes you beyond your comfort zone.” She looked into Rachel’s eyes, and her lips curved. “You’ve already met him, haven’t you?”
Though she was a little unnerved by the woman’s apparent insights, she forced herself to respond lightly. “You’re the fortune-teller, you tell me.”
“You’ve already met him,” Phoebe said again, and it wasn’t a question this time. “But you’re still trying to figure out if he’s the one.”
“Is he?”
The old woman shook her head. “That’s not for me to say—only you can decide.”
“Can’t you at least give me a hint? Warn me if he’s going to break my heart?”
“All I can tell you is that nothing worthwhile comes easily.” Phoebe laid her hands, wrinkled but strong, on top of Rachel’s. “You have a good heart. Don’t be afraid to follow it.”
Holly crossed the room to where they were seated and quickly assessed the situation. “No hocus-pocus on your birthday, Gram.”
“It’s not hocus-pocus.”
“What it is, is time for cake,” her granddaughter said, in an attempt to ward off a familiar confrontation.
“You better not have put ninety candles on that cake, or we’re going to need the fire department.”
“I should have thought of that,” Holly lamented. “It would have been a great way to meet some sexy firefighters.”
Her grandmother swatted at her. “You need to focus less on sexy and more on stability.”
“I’m twenty-eight years old—I’ve got my whole life ahead of me for stability. Right now I want sexy.”
“What kind of cake?” Rachel asked, trying to steer them both to a safer topic of conversation.
“Vanilla sponge with lemon filling and buttercream icing.”
“Did you make it?” Gram asked.
“I was in charge of flowers,” Holly reminded her. “Charlotte did the cake.”
“Then it should be edible.”
“Hey,” Holly protested the subtle dig while Rachel tried not to smile. Her friend’s ineptitude in the k
itchen was legendary.
Phoebe smiled as she tucked her hand in her granddaughter’s. “Did I mention how absolutely gorgeous the flowers are?”
* * *
Over the past couple of years, it had become part of the routine for Andrew and Maura to stay for dinner with her grandparents when he picked his daughter up at the end of a weekend visit. Andrew had never felt uncomfortable during these meals. Then again, he’d never before had his mind preoccupied by thoughts of any woman but their daughter while he was at their table.
Until tonight.
Tonight, as he poured gravy on his pork roast, it was Rachel who was on his mind. And as much as he tried to focus on Ed and Carol’s conversation about their recent bridge tournament, his thoughts continued to wander.
“Andrew.”
He glanced up to find his former father-in-law looking at him expectantly.
“Sorry?”
“I asked if you wouldn’t mind passing the gravy,” Ed said.
“Of course,” he agreed, looking around the table for it—only to realize the pitcher was still in his hand.
When the meal was finally finished and he had Maura’s overnight bag in hand, Carol handed him an envelope.
“What’s this?”
“A birthday party invitation for Maura.”
“Oh, right,” his daughter said excitedly. “It’s Jolene’s birthday next week.”
It took him a minute to remember that Jolene was the granddaughter of the Leighton’s housekeeper. The Leightons lived directly behind the Wakefields, and Maura and Jolene had met the previous summer when Maura kicked a ball over the fence and into the Leightons’ backyard.
Carol had tried to discourage the friendship, making no secret of the fact that she disapproved of her granddaughter fraternizing with the help. But Jolene was a sweet girl, and every time Maura went to visit her grandparents, she wanted to visit Jolene, too.
“Can I come to the party, Daddy?”
“We’ll check our schedule when we get home,” he promised.
“Maura can stay here again next weekend, if that makes it easier for you,” Carol told him.
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