Chocolate Kisses

by Francis Ray

  When Nicole awoke again, the room was alight with sunshine despite the protest of the miniblinds and sheer window coverings. She glanced at the clock: 11:43. At least the headache’s gone.

  It felt decadent to be sleeping when she should’ve been at work. She laughed into her pillow as she rolled onto her side and snuggled into the warmth of her bed. But sleep didn’t come again. The pleasure of oversleeping vanished at the memory of her and Marcus’s parting after having worked out the previous night.

  So powerfully different from their other farewells, Marcus’s impassioned good-night kiss still loitered on her palate. Their mouths had met, searing, yet tender. He’d lingered, his tongue touching her lips, but not bold enough to enter. It’d been a mere caress, a devotion-filled brushing of lips. A melding of souls.

  It left Nicole shaken. Soon it’d be a kiss good-bye.

  What was I thinking? I set up the rules, and I’ve broken every one.

  In Marcus’s wrinkled button-down workshirt, she stood and stretched her arms above her head. The rumpled cotton was soft against her skin. She lifted the collar and inhaled, the masculine scent assailing her.

  Like Marcus—spicy, slightly musky, Polo cologne, Ivory soap, and—oh, God; tears sprang to her eyes—so familiar it was like being home. Like strong arms and an even stronger presence. Like love.

  I’m in love with him. Her knees weak, Nicole collapsed onto the bed behind her and buried her face in her palms. When had she begun to love him? When have I not, she chided herself. She’d always loved Marcus; for six years he’d been her closest friend. But it was not friendship tightening her heart. It wasn’t the love of a friend that suspended her breathing.

  Why did I let this happen?

  Minutes ticked by. The air burned in her lungs, the ache returning behind her temples. The simple game of mutual pleasuring had turned serious. Lifting her head, she studied her reflection in the mirror. She was a woman, almost thirty, without a man to call her own. But she couldn’t risk losing her best friend. Ever.

  Despite the distance of miles that would separate them when he moved to Atlanta, they’d always remain friends. He must never know of her feelings, for he certainly didn’t feel the same. Sex just for sex—-friends always.

  Secure in her resolve to neither tell Marcus how she felt nor change their present relationship, Nicole shoved Marcus’s shirt beneath her pillow and headed for a shower. Focus on the physical. Forget what’s in your heart.

  Once she was dressed, Nicole checked the voice mail at her office. Two messages—both from Marcus. Punching her code, Nicole listened to Marcus’s deep voice over the phone.

  “Hey, Nic. I’m headed out of town for a couple of days. Seems the Atlanta Hawks are ready to talk business and offering Brian Brook the figure I requested. I’m staying an extra night, since I’d like to check out a couple of apartments. I’m taking a red-eye home Friday. Have breakfast with me Saturday morning? See you then. Bye.”

  Breakfast? Definitely. She smiled. I’ll make you breakfast in bed, she thought as she waited for the second message. Nicole bit her lip. In bed? After all these weeks they’d never had sex in either of their beds. Being in bed with Marcus would’ve been too close to making love; perhaps they’d both subconsciously avoided it—choosing the floor, the sofa, and his truck instead. Bed would be far too risky to her emotional well-being.

  Marcus’s voice began again.

  “Nic, check your front door when you get home.”

  Nicole grinned like a schoolgirl playing hooky. She wasn’t supposed to be home. She felt naughty as she pressed number three to save both messages. Hanging up the phone, she made her way to the front door.

  Nicole glanced down at her stoop, where a box neatly wrapped in white paper with swirls of pink tea roses and a big pink satin bow sat on her top step.

  “Marcus,” she said, bending to pick up the gift. She went inside to open it, setting the small card to the side before reading it. She opened the gift and pulled the lid off the box.

  There, secure in a frothy bed of white tissue, was the pale yellow dress she’d admired in the shop window. Tiny stitches of rosebuds lined the hem and the bustline. “Oh, Marcus.” With a sigh, she lifted the silken material from the box. Her heart flipped; the earth felt unsteady. She glanced at the tag, the price thoughtfully removed, and saw that it was just her size.

  Several times she’d thought about going back to pick up the dress, but the days were too short and her schedule too full.

  Thankful, she clutched the smooth material to her. She’d show him her gratitude Saturday morning.

  Grabbing the envelope she’d set on the table, she tore the seal and pulled the card from the encasing, then read: You’re beautiful.

  That was all—no signature, but she didn’t need one to know Marcus had left it for her, easily recognizing the scrawl of his writing in those two simple, yet profoundly meaningful words.

  Unable to squelch the rising emotion in her chest, Nicole carried the card and the dress to her room. She slid the card beneath her pillow, joining his shirt for later enjoyment, then hung the dress on a hanger on the outside of the closet door so she could see it whenever she entered.

  Feeling lighthearted, Nicole called her mom and set up a late lunch date. They met at their favorite Indian restaurant, and spent several hours catching up over the meal.

  That evening, Nicole gobbled up a to-be-read book on her nightstand. With the alarm left off, she slept in for a second time. She spent the next day in the garden, finishing her book, and tidying her house.

  But by Friday night Nicole was restless. She could hardly wait for Marcus to return. She missed his smile. His scent. His whispered words and subtle innuendos. She missed Marcus.

  With Marcus gone, Nicole got a glimpse of how life would be once he moved. They had no future but what remained of the condoms in her rose-shaped cookie jar.

  In the kitchen she found a fluted glass and opened a bottle of wine. She needed something to help her sleep. After having a couple sips, she grabbed the ceramic rosebud cookie jar and tipped the contents onto the counter, counting what remained of her intimate relationship.

  Eleven. Damn, that was it? Just under half of what they had started with? For a moment Nicole pondered the idea of restocking her supply. She doubted Marcus had been keeping track. But she dismissed the idea. They’d made a deal, a verbal contract, and, being an attorney, she knew she shouldn’t breach it no matter how tempting.

  She gulped the rest of her wine and refilled her glass.

  Flopping onto the couch, she turned on a late-night video show and cuddled under a throw. Hours passed before she was able to fall asleep.

  A persistent tapping jarred her awake to the creeping gray light of dawn. She scurried to the door and yanked it open. Marcus stood on her stoop. A fine woven jacket hugged his broad shoulders, gray like the pale morning light, over a shirt a softer shade of the same color. The adorning necktie was printed with small Raiders emblems—another of her gifts.

  “Hi,” he said, his voice husky.

  “Hi, yourself. Come in here,” she said, placing her hand on his forearm and drawing him into the house. In a stupor of wine and sexual frustration she’d forgotten about making him breakfast in bed. Darn.

  As soon as he’d stepped inside the house he pulled her into his arms, wrapping her tightly to his chest. His mouth didn’t find hers, but settled in the hollow of her throat, where he murmured softly against her skin. He held her there, secure in his embrace for several long moments. Slowly he released her and stepped away.

  “Did the trip go well?” she asked, taking his hand and guiding him to the living room.

  “Went off just as planned. We got the contract we wanted. The Hawks got the player. Everyone wins.”

  “You must be tired.”

  “Yeah, I’m beat. I also found a couple of nice neighborhoods I wouldn’t mind living in.”

  Nicole nodded, ignoring the way fear made her pulse speed. “Have
a seat and I’ll make us some coffee.”

  “Sounds great, Nic.” Marcus plopped down on the couch, kicked his feet up on the ottoman, and leaned his head against the plush pillows. “How was work?”

  “I didn’t go in the last couple of days,” Nicole replied over her shoulder as she entered the kitchen. She started the coffee.

  “Is everything all right?” His words were followed by a yawn.

  “Yeah, I just needed a little R and R. It felt great. I even had lunch with my mom. My sister called yesterday. She’ll be in town next weekend. We’re going out Saturday night.”

  “Oh, yeah? Where?”

  “Must Be Paradise. Her favorite club.” Nicole found two mugs, then leaned against the counter while black liquid dripped into the glass carafe. “Hey, Marcus? Did you work out yesterday morning?” she asked loudly enough for him to hear her on the couch, feeling a bit guilty about missing their routine, especially after how long it’d taken her to get in shape.

  “Not in the morning. Just before lunch a few of the guys and I went to the gym to shoot hoops. Those dogs are relentless, and throwing bows with them is a workout. Did you?” His husky mumbling faded.

  “No. I slept in.” She poured the coffee into two mugs, adding cream and sugar as she talked. “Actually, I felt funny about going to the gym without you. . . .”

  Nicole lifted the mugs and walked into the living room, only to find Marcus fast asleep, the blanket she’d used draped over him. She put both mugs on the side table and sat down on the couch, careful to not disturb him. She slipped beneath the blanket, snuggling closer to his warmth and studied his profile, content to have him back in her arms no matter how brief their time would be.

  Marcus glanced down upon Nicole’s sleeping face, her body tucked into the crook of his arm. Her cheek rested against his chest, and one of her small hands was curled into a fist beneath her chin. With his arm adorning her shoulder, he couldn’t resist the urge to tug her closer. She murmured softly but didn’t awaken, before cuddling back against his side.

  Though it wasn’t the first time during their six-year friendship that they’d both fallen asleep on the couch, it was the first time it had felt so right. Hell, he wanted to wake every morning with her sleeping next to him, to awake every day gazing upon her beautiful face.

  Despite the ever-present lust he felt for Nicole, he didn’t want the day to be about sex. He wanted this day to be so special that even after he was gone, she wouldn’t forget.

  Slipping his hand into his pocket, he withdrew his cell phone and flipped it open, punching in the number to his friend.

  “Chuck here,” a gruff voice said when the ringing was answered.

  “Hey, man, it’s Marcus,” he said, keeping his voice low. He was having one hell of a time forgetting about his throbbing hard-on with Nicole’s leg draped over his thigh.

  “How’s it going?”

  “Good. You know that thing we discussed last week?”

  “Yup. You ready?”

  “Yeah, can you get it set up now?”

  Chuck laughed on his end of the phone. “Do you want pink or red roses?”

  “Red. You have everything else, right?”

  “I said I’d be ready, and I am.” Chuck’s laughter broke out again. “Do you want me to pop the cork, let it breathe?”

  “Champagne doesn’t need to breathe,” Marcus replied, knowing his friend was giving him a hard time.

  “I know that, man. I like harassing you. Don’t worry, Marcus; you told me how you want it set up, and I’ll have it ready.”

  “Good,” Marcus said, then snapped the phone closed without saying good-bye.

  Inhaling a deep breath, Marcus thought over his resolve to keep the day from getting sexual no matter how badly he wanted Nicole.

  Nicole shifted, her hand drifting lower onto his lap. He bit back a groan, his arousal pressing sharply against the fly of his gray slacks as the woman he desired wiggled, all soft and feminine against him.

  He caressed her cheek. His fingers followed the shell curve of her ear, traced the line of her lips, hovered over her long, dark lashes resting peacefully upon her perfect brown skin. Marcus tightened his hand on her shoulder and nudged.

  “Nic, time to get up, love. Come on, sleepyhead.” When Nicole didn’t rouse at first, he was tempted to let her sleep. But he was eager to get on with it. He’d been planning this for weeks, just waiting for the perfect moment. No time like the present.

  “Nicole Davis, this is your get-up-and-get-’em call. I’ve got plans for us.”

  “What kind of plans?” she whispered, burrowing into his side and refusing to open her eyes.

  “To get something to eat and go for a ride.”

  Nicole sat up, blinking her eyes. “A ride?” she asked, her voice dropping to a seductive purr.

  “Yes, a ride.” Marcus shoved off the couch before smoldering turned to fire. Standing, he stretched his arms over his head, easing the tension in his shoulders and neck. It’d been a long couple of days and an even longer plane ride to get home.

  “Let’s get out of here; I’m starving,” he said, brushing the wrinkles from his jacket. “I just need to get my bag from my truck and change into a pair of jeans. You going to get dressed?”

  Nicole rose slowly, arching her back like a cat, then strode toward her bedroom. Twenty minutes later she emerged wearing the pale yellow silk dress he’d left for her on the way to the airport. The lines of the dress perfectly complemented the swell of her breasts and the narrowness of her waist. The fine material clung to each of her lush curves, shimmying down her body to fall midthigh, with a hem intertwined with the brocade dusting of roses.

  With her hair pulled into a loose bun, black ringlets fell around her face and tumbled down her back. Her legs were freshly covered with a rose-scented lotion that made her brown skin shine as if it had been sprinkled with glitter.

  “You’re beautiful.” His voice was husky with awe. She certainly did the dress justice.

  “Thank you,” she replied, her gaze dropping to the floor and a becoming blush covering her cheeks.

  He cleared his throat, and she looked up, her eyes reflecting a fathomless amount of emotion. “Do you like it?”

  “Do you need to ask?” She closed the distance between them. “I love it. Thank you.” She lifted on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, but stepped back just as he reached for her.

  “My pleasure. I knew it’d look great on you. We should get going. I’ll drive.” Marcus walked to the front door, holding it open as she went past. I can’t wait to see her face when she sees what I’ve planned.

  Once they were out the door, he placed his hand on the small of her back and walked her toward his truck. “Let’s go for a drive.”

  “All right,” she said. “But I thought you were hungry.”

  “I am, and we’ll stop for something to eat in a little while.”

  Marcus started the truck, keeping the music low so they could talk, but neither said anything as he got on Interstate 80 and headed east.

  With his gaze shifting from the freeway to her bare legs to the perfect profile of her delicate face, Marcus had the overwhelming sense of belonging.

  He exited on Douglas Boulevard and headed toward Folsom Lake.

  “Where are we going?” Nicole asked, turning away from the window.

  “To Folsom Lake.”

  Nicole laughed. “We’re hardly dressed for swimming.”

  “We could go naked.”

  “Marcus, it’s May, and way too chilly for what you have in mind. If your offer were a hot tub, we’d have a deal.”

  “I’m just playing,” he replied with a laugh, settling his hand on her thigh just below the hem of the silk. Her skin was warm and soft beneath his fingertips. Nicole scooted in his direction.

  Douglas Boulevard narrowed as they drove through Granite Bay. On each side of them were narrow streets where the houses were large and the neighborhoods established.
Giant maple trees hugged the paved roads, their sweeping canopies acting as an umbrella from the brightness of the sun, and sending a dappling of light onto the shaded ground.

  Vast yards, lushly green and carefully manicured, dressed with white picket fences, spread out on all sides of them. Birches and cottonwoods lined each snaking black driveway, and set off in the shade, emblazoned with beds of flowers, were homes, all well kept and expensive.

  Nicole had always loved this neighborhood. With longing, she stared at the wonderful homes, watching as a gray squirrel scampered up a tree and a blue jay took flight. But something else caught her eye, a scattering of FOR SALE signs that graced a yard here and there.

  Glancing down at her purse, she thought about the slightly crumpled brochures of homes on the market that she kept tucked away in case she was ever in the area to check them out.

  Sliding her gaze back to Marcus, she asked, “Do you ever plan on getting married, Marcus?” I hope I sounded natural.

  He startled, as if the question had taken him off guard, but he kept his eyes fastened to the road and shrugged. Silence filled the small cab, a moment of tension, a hint of sexual awareness, then was replaced with the comfort of longtime friends.

  “I guess I do. What about you?” he finally answered.

  “Yeah, I do. I guess you could say I want it all, Marcus.” She tried to laugh, but it ended up sounding like a sigh. Either that or a sob. She wanted these things with Marcus, but knew it would never be. She thrust her palm out, making a sweeping gesture to the houses outside. “You know, a husband, two-point-five kids, white picket fences . . .” With an ache in her heart, she went back to gazing out the window. “A dog, maybe. A cat.”

  “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

  Nicole held her breath for a moment, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Marcus, I need a favor.”