by Jo Leigh
“You look wonderful,” he said.
She rolled her eyes, even though she’d tried on every single item of clothing she owned before deciding on the forest-green jumper with the yellow-and-white blouse underneath. She didn’t want to wear any of the fancy-shmansy clothes she’d bought for the parties, but she didn’t want to be in torn jeans and a stretched-out T. “I wasn’t sure where we were going,” she said.
“You’re perfect.”
Her blush, she felt sure, was only the first of many. She couldn’t help it. Blushing had always been her curse. Her face, it seemed, tried hard to match the exact shade of her hair. So far, she’d come darn close.
“So, uh, where are we going?”
“A deli I know. It’s not fancy, but it’s good.”
“Ooh, yum. I love bagels and cream cheese.”
“Great.”
“And lox. Sometimes. As long as I don’t put on too much. But just enough is great. With tomato and red onion.”
“That’s the way I like it, too.”
“Really?”
He nodded.
Just then, the cabbie turned a corner, fast, and she fell right into his arms. Flustered, she tried to sit up, but found she couldn’t.
“Don’t move,” he said.
When Marla looked up, it was right into his face, only inches away. “But—”
“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” he whispered, and then he leaned down until his lips touched hers.
For a bit, all Marla could do was hold her breath and blink. But then the flashbulbs in her brain stopped, and she actually felt his lips, his gentle breath, his arms holding her close.
Her eyes fluttered shut as she abandoned herself to the moment. Sure, it was like someone else’s life, but as long as she was borrowing it, she might as well enjoy herself.
Holy-moly, she’d never had many boyfriends before. Her geekdom in high school and college had assured her lack of dates. One time she’d been asked out by a drunk guy at a fraternity party who, it turned out, thought she was someone named Cristy, and that night ended with him throwing up all over her brand-new Skechers. As far as memories went, it pretty much sucked.
Now, this was truly the stuff memories should be made of. Shawn Foote, who was sweeter, smarter, funnier than she could have ever imagined, holding her. Kissing her.
She gasped as she felt his tongue swipe her front teeth, The gasp gave him the opening he was looking for, and in a moment that was seared into her brain for eternity, she tasted him. A hint of coffee, a little mint, and oh, God, Shawn!
She could die right now, and it would be fine. In fact, she kinda wished she would, because there was no possibility her life could get any better.
“Marla?”
She jumped just a tad when she saw he’d pulled back and was looking straight at her. “Hmm?”
“Is everything all right?”
She nodded. Three times.
“Just checking.”
“No. Good. Happy.”
He smiled. “That’s excellent. But now we need to get out of the cab, because I think he’s getting a little impatient.”
They’d stopped, and she hadn’t even known it. Oh, God. She sat up, ran a hand through her hair, cleared her throat, tried her best to climb down from the clouds that had carried her away.
By the time Shawn had paid the driver and gotten out, she was relatively together. Not Jessica together, but not her normal Marla self, either.
He took her hand, another keeper memory, and led her into the unassuming deli. She hardly felt the sidewalk beneath her feet.
DAN WOKE UP to knocking. Loud knocking. He’d slept like crap, and waking was no easy task. His gummy eyes refused to open, his legs were all tangled in the sheets, and whoever was knocking was about to die.
“Hold on,” he said, but he doubted the knocker heard him.
Finally, Dan made it to his feet. He headed for the door, careful not to bump into anything. A swift glance to the bedroom door let him know that if Jessica had heard the door, she wasn’t in any hurry to answer it.
Dan leaned forward and looked through the peephole. As he’d suspected, Owen, the bastard, was the one making all the racket. Just as Dan reached for the knob, ready to let Owen know exactly what he thought of him, he remembered the pullout couch. Shit. “Hold on,” he said. “Just a second.”
Dan raced to the bed, tossed the pillows to the side and shoved the bed back into the couch. It stuck, of course, just long enough for Owen to get impatient and start knocking again. The bed succumbed to brute pressure, and then he piled the pillows in random order. It was good enough. He leapt over the coffee table and made it back to the door before Owen beat a hole in the center. He jerked the door open. “Did you need something, Owen?”
Owen’s unhappy gaze took in Dan’s bare feet and boxer shorts. “I was hoping to speak to Jessica,” he said, his words clipped tight.
“She’s sleeping.”
“She’ll want to get up for me.”
“I doubt it.”
Owen sighed, shifted his stance so he was halfway to getting inside. Dan wasn’t about to let that happen.
“Look, Owen, as soon as she’s up, she’ll give you a call.”
“It’s important.”
“I’m sure it is. But we had a pretty rough night, if you know what I mean.”
That got a reaction. Red-faced, Owen looked past Dan’s shoulder, trying to see the bedroom door.
That was it. Not caring what he hit, Dan pushed Owen’s shoulder with one hand while he closed the door with the other. “She’ll call you.”
“Hey!”
“I promise,” he said as the door finally clicked home. “Jeez.”
He turned around, not in the least happy about having to remake the bed. But man, he was still really tired. He’d left his watch on the coffee table, but he felt sure it was just past dawn.
Turned out it was almost noon, but hey.
“Was that Owen?”
Jessica’s voice startled him, and he spun to find her standing by the open bedroom door. “Yeah.”
“What did he want?”
“You.”
“Oh.” She hid a broad yawn behind her hand as she walked, kimono flaring behind her, to the bathroom.
Dan reacted to the sight in a way that belied his last encounter with her. Damn, she was so beautiful. Even with her hair all messed up, and makeup giving her that ever popular raccoon look. He wanted her just as she was. Well, okay, he could wait until she brushed her teeth, but barely.
He wondered which Jessica he’d be talking to this morning. The woman afraid to step a foot outside her comfort zone or the passionate creature he’d made love to. Maybe wishing real hard would help. Which is just what he did as he straightened up the pillows and gathered his clothes together. He stared at his robe for a long time, but he didn’t put it on. If it was the passionate one, he wanted to be ready.
Talk about hopeful. She’d made it pretty clear last night that she wasn’t terribly comfortable about testing the edges of their very personal envelope. He could either go along with it, be the nice guy he liked to think he was, or…
One thing of which he was quite sure: When they’d made love last night, Jessica had been right there with him, breath for breath, touch for touch. She’d come alive in his arms. God, it had been like nothing else. He wanted that woman back. He wanted to take that woman to the moon.
So much for Mr. Nice Guy. From this moment forward, he had a new project.
JESSICA HAD STARTED the shower the moment she’d stepped into the bathroom. She hadn’t gotten wet yet, however. She’d dawdled over brushing her teeth, her hair, washing her face with New Dawn Creamy Facial Whip. She’d even taken off her robe and stared at herself in the mirror. All the while the hot water poured. She supposed she’d better make a decision. In or out.
One more critical view of her naked self. Not too shabby, although she could lose a few pounds, especially around her
middle, but the personal trainer had been a great investment. She paid a fortune to her, but the money was excellent motivation. Now, if she could quit eating the damn desserts at every meal, maybe she’d get the body she should have.
It wasn’t going to happen in the next five minutes though, so she’d better get on with it. She’d dawdled so long, Dan was undoubtedly dressed, but that was no matter. She’d never met a man who wouldn’t strip at the drop of an innuendo.
After turning off the shower, she donned her robe, put her hand up to her mouth and blew out a breath, just to make sure, then went out to begin what she’d coined Project Dan. He wasn’t the only one with a plan and a goal. And Jessica had always been great when it came to achievement. Give her a challenge and she was hell on wheels. So watch out, Mr. Research. The tide was going to turn, all her way.
“THIS IS THE BEST DELI I’ve ever been to,” Marla said. “Except now I’m stuffed to the gills.” She wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I never thought about it before, but that’s about fish. Stuffing them, I mean. Otherwise it would be stuffed to the neck or the head.”
Shawn put down his coffee cup and smiled at her. “I believe you’re right. Never thought of it, either.”
“Kind of disgusting, though.”
“But it gets the message across.”
She nodded. “How did you find this place?” It wasn’t a big place, in fact it was not much more than a storefront. All the tables were taken, mostly with elderly folks, but by far the most popular area of the deli was the counter. Behind the glass were wonderful things, from fresh-baked bagels to homemade knishes. Having grown up in a primarily Jewish neighborhood, she was intimately familiar with the delicacies. If she didn’t have to go back to the hotel tonight, she’d buy a bunch of goodies.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Kishke.”
He laughed out loud, and the sound made her all twitchy inside.
“What?”
“Not what I expected.”
“But look at all the yummies,” she said, pointing to the counter. “I can’t believe I’m so full. I mean, when’s the last time you saw such a beautiful black-and-white cookie?”
“You’re right. A work of art.”
“Don’t make fun.”
His eyes widened as if he was wounded. “I’m not. Not in the least. I love the way you think.”
She frowned. “I think just like other people. Don’t I?”
“No.” He took her hand in his. “Not at all. Which is terrific, so you’d better not get all worried about it.”
“How can I help it? I mean, I know I’m not the brightest person in the world, but I never thought I was that different.”
“Different is only awful when you’re a kid.”
Shawn ran a single fingertip up the back of her hand, making her whole body quiver.
“As soon as you’re out of that wanting-to-be-like-everyone-else phase, it’s what you look for in new people. The unique things. Good or bad, it’s always interesting.”
“Well, psychos are different.”
“Yeah, you don’t want to go too far, but I can’t think of anything worse than being just like everyone else.”
“You’re not. You’re the most gorgeous guy on earth.”
Shawn burst out laughing, while Marla turned three shades of red. She couldn’t believe she’d said that. If she could have found a hole to crawl into, she would have.
“Oh, babe, don’t be embarrassed. That was totally sweet. And yeah, I did win the biological lottery, I’m aware of that. It’s okay as long as I don’t take myself too seriously.”
“That’s the thing, though. You don’t. I never expected you to be so nice.”
“Thought I’d be all stuck-up, huh?”
“Sure. I mean, beautiful people can get whatever they want. It must be easy to get sucked into that.”
“Do you get whatever you want?”
“Me? What do you mean?”
He nodded. “You’re incredibly beautiful.”
“No, I’m not.”
He leaned back to look at her sternly. “So I’m sweet, but I’m a liar?”
“No!”
“Then you’ll just have to deal, won’t you?”
She had no idea what to say. Not a clue. She was Alice Through the Looking Glass, Dorothy on the Yellow Brick Road. She felt sure she was going to wake up and realize it was all a dream, but she prayed it wouldn’t happen yet. She was having way too much fun.
“Hey,” Shawn said. “I have this party to go to tonight. At the Rainbow Room. How would you feel about being my date?”
“I have to go…Oh.”
His slow smile made the whole world sunshiny. Her spot, especially. “I’d love to.”
“Great. What time do you have to be there?”
A cloud appeared. “Early. Like two-ish.”
“Ah. So how would you feel about starting this date around seven? When I get there?”
“I feel very, very good about this.”
He leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek. “Remember,” he whispered. “The first dance is mine.”
Marla melted into a puddle of goo. Right there in front of the kosher dill pickles.
POINT OF VIEW
An English professor wrote the words “A woman without her man is nothing” on the blackboard and directed the students to punctuate it correctly.
The men wrote: “A woman, without her man, is nothing.”
The women wrote: “A woman: without her, man is nothing.”
Source: Meissner, Dirk “Punctuation and Phenomenal Women”
http://www.dirkmeissner.com/chauvi0001.htm
13
SHE HADN’T GOTTEN dressed. A good sign. And she was smiling. Yet another favorable omen. But she also had a strange glint to her eyes, as if there was something wicked going on inside that formidable brain of hers.
“How’d you sleep?” she asked.
“Great. Never better. How about you?”
“Good, good.”
He nodded, smiled. Not terribly sure what to say next, which wasn’t something he was used to.
She walked over to the couch, sat on the opposite end. Crossing her legs, she let the robe fall so that her thigh was exposed. He couldn’t tell if she had anything on beneath it.
“I can’t believe Owen,” she said. “He doesn’t give up easily, does he?”
“Nope. He seemed pretty anxious to talk to you.”
She frowned prettily. He liked her without makeup. It made him remember the feel of her skin.
“I’d better call him.” She lifted the hotel phone, put it in her lap, then dialed his room number.
As she listened to her boss, she swung her upper leg, and his gaze traveled down to her feet. He wasn’t exactly a foot man, although he knew at least one among his friends, but the way her toes looked with the red polish, the graceful curve of her arch sent some pretty interesting messages to the lower regions of his body.
He crossed his legs, regretting that he hadn’t put on a pair of jeans. He’d never really thought about how vulnerable it could be to be dressed only in boxers. Nice boxers, to be sure, silk, bought by his ex-girlfriend at Barney’s, but still, they didn’t leave a lot to the imagination.
“We’ll be there at two,” Jessica said, “and I’m sure that Theresa can fix everything. That’s why we hired her. Nothing will go wrong tonight, I promise.”
Dan moved his gaze from her feet to her ankles, trim and pale, up her well-shaped calf to the expanse of thigh. Somehow it was sexier than if she’d been completely undressed. Maybe not. The idea of her naked, sitting so casually on the couch, talking to that bastard of a boss, made his problem infinitely worse. He hoped she didn’t ask him for a pen, or water, because standing would be mighty awkward.
“Dan was only thinking of me,” she said. “He knows what a rough week this is, and how much I need my rest. I’m sure if your wife were here, she’d do the same.”
&nb
sp; He looked up to see Jessica smiling at him, a conspiratorial grin that made him think she’d gotten over her fear from last night. Perhaps he was too optimistic, but he didn’t think so. It was an intangible something, along with the robe, the thigh. It added up.
Being the man of action that he was, he boldly scooted over on the couch. Not enough to actually touch her, but their hands could have met in the middle.
“I’ll call Theresa, and I’ll let you know if there’s a problem, okay? If not, I’ll see you at the Rainbow Room.”
She hung up the phone and put it back on the coffee table. “Sorry about that.”
“No sweat.”
“I wanted to talk to you about last night.” She paused, looked at her knee, then back at him. “I really had a great time.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
“But I was a little frightened, too. I wasn’t expecting it. You. It’s been a long while since I…”
“I understand.”
“I hope so. Because I wouldn’t want you to think it was anything you’d done.”
“Thanks.”
“I’d like to buy you breakfast. What do you say?”
“Great. Where?”
She paused again, but this time she didn’t look away. “Here.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t have to be anywhere until two.”
“Great.”
Her smile turned up the heat about twenty degrees. “Maybe, after we eat, we can have dessert.”
He tried to respond with something witty, but his brain had stopped functioning. Dessert. Oh, yeah. Maybe he could convince her to have dessert now and eat later.
PLEASANTLY FULL on eggs, bacon and toast, Jessica watched Dan take his last bites of Belgian waffle, wondering what she was going to do next.
The meal had been secondary to the mating dance they’d started just after she’d ordered from room service. Every word had been rife with meaning, and she couldn’t help noticing that while Dan’s boxers were a wonderful dark blue silk, they didn’t do much to hide his enthusiasm. For that matter, her robe couldn’t disguise the state of her nipples, brought to her attention by Dan’s frequent stares.
