“You know, this isn’t that bad,” I said, opening my eyes once more.
“Boy, you really do not get the concept of meditating, do you?”
“Oops. I’ll just close, empty, picture, and repeat.”
“Yeah, you do that,” he said, tweaking my chin as I closed my eyes.
Then, quite suddenly, I felt his hands lifting mine. Our palms were barely touching. His fingertips gently brushed against my own. Finding it remarkably easy to keep my eyes closed while losing myself in his touch, I pressed my fingers and palms into his with great intensity. We laced our fingers together. And there, in a crazy, bustling city, we sat with our hands entwined in a glass dome, on a bunch of pillows, beneath a small circle of stars.
Chapter Ten
At some point—and I couldn’t begin to tell you when or how it happened—we fell asleep in each other’s arms. I opened my eyes to find Blake right up against my back, fast asleep, his arm draped over my waist. We fit together so perfectly. I softly traced the back of his large hand resting upon my stomach as his breath on my neck warmed me in ways a fire never could. The very thing I swore never to allow had happened: I had developed feelings for Blake. Those feelings were subtle, but strong, and with each passing day, they were only getting stronger, slowly breaking down the fortress around my heart. As much as I wished this could all be real, I knew it could never last, not with my father in the Shade file, not with the memory of my parents weighing on me. There were just too many odds to beat. Far too many. But those odds need not be challenged tonight—that day will come soon enough.
With the sky still dark and sleep beckoning me once more, I tucked my fingers between his and closed my eyes. Tonight, the sandman was not only my friend, but, in some bizarre way, my fairy godmother as well.
*****
The next time I woke up, it was to cold water droplets rolling down my face, arms, and chest. I groaned and rolled onto my back, clearing my eyes. Blake was gone, and the lightening sky above continued dropping an increasingly steady sprinkle.
Pushing myself up and stretching, a truly intoxicating smell waffled from the kitchen to my nose, instantly awakening the growling hunger beast in my stomach. I reluctantly peeled my groggy butt away from the little slice of utopia in the middle of New York City and wandered into the kitchen. I found Blake standing before the old stove, shirtless, and busily cooking sausage, pancakes, and frying up bacon. For me, there was something about watching a man cook that was insanely sexy. The bare back and chest didn’t hurt either.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you could cook,” I said.
Blake looked over his muscular shoulder, smiling. “You’re up! I was hoping to surprise you.”
“Trust me, I’m surprised. Besides, between the rain and the smells coming from this kitchen, I don’t think I could’ve slept much longer anyway.”
“Crap, it started raining on you?” he asked, turning the bacon strips.
“Only a little. Believe it or not, it was kind of a nice way to wake up.”
He smiled while adding sausage to two plain white plates. “Did you sleep well?”
“Remarkably well. You?”
He stopped to look me in the eye. “Better than I have in a long, long time.”
I climbed onto a barstool at the kitchen counter. “You know, I don’t actually remember falling asleep.”
“Ah,” he said, slightly waving a black spatula at me, “well, that’s because you meditated yourself to sleep.”
“That’s a thing?”
“It is. Probably the only way I’m able to catch a few hours here and there. You, being a fellow insomniac, should get that.”
“I do. And I will no longer make fun of meditation.”
“Hallelujah!” he said, now raising the spatula above his head.
“Such a wiseass,” I muttered. Blake chuckled. “That how you fell asleep last night? Meditating?”
He hesitated as he piled pancakes on a serving plate before me. “I fell asleep watching you.”
“Oh.” Oh? Oh! That was all my stupid mouth could mutter? Here I had this brave, sexy, powerful, thoughtful man delicately trying to connect with me, and all I could give him was ‘oh’? Honestly. My cheeks grew very warm.
“Anyway…how many pancakes can I get for you, Miss Harred?”
“Three,” I quickly responded, grateful for the change in subject. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl!
Blake put three pancakes on a plate with two sausage patties, grabbed some maple syrup, and said, “Syrup?”
“Is there any other way?”
“How much would you like?”
“Um, a virtual pool. If I can soak in it, it will be enough.”
He grinned and started pouring. “I’m the same way. Bacon?”
“Absolutely.”
His eyebrows raised, he mused, “Woman with an appetite. I like that.”
“You sound surprised.”
After adding two strips of bacon, he rounded the counter and sat on the stool beside me. “You haven’t seen Blair eat.”
“Entertaining?” I cut rather large bites of a pancake and sausage and crammed both into my mouth. Not terribly ladylike.
“She’s the professor of ‘How to Fail at Eating 101.’”
“Worse than a bird?”
“Worse than a rabbit.”
“Ew, ick, okay, that’s bad. Food is meant to be enjoyed. I will never understand the fad of depriving oneself. There’s one true thing in life,” I said, waving my full fork, maple syrup dripping on the counter, “we all croak at some point. At least enjoy the good stuff while we’re breathing.”
“And food is good stuff?”
“Food is great stuff.”
“And people?”
“Eh, hit and miss…although, right now, pretty much a home run,” I said, stuffing more food in my mouth.
“Likewise. Well…where’s the food verdict?”
“Oh! It’s all amazing!” I said, my mouth protruding with pancakes. Swallowing hard, I added, “Sorry. I know it’s poor manners.”
“You don’t always have to have manners around me, Maggie.”
“Hmm.”
“‘Hmm’ is all I get?”
“What were you expecting?”
“Oh, I don’t know…maybe you could tell me I don’t always have to be a gentleman around you…”
I had to work hard to keep myself from kissing him. “Nah, you still have to be a gentleman.”
Releasing an overwhelmed ‘you got me’ whistle, Blake said, “You are a tough one, aren’t you?”
“Yes, yes I am. You okay with that?”
Blake turned on the barstool to face me, leaned forward on his knees, and looked me in the eye. “Oh, I’d say so.”
Sigh. “Well, good. There shouldn’t be any problems, then.”
“Not on my end.”
“Excellent.” Trying to maintain composure around Blake was really very difficult.
“In fact, I have a proposition for you…”
“This should really surprise me more than it does,” I said, setting my fork down to give him my full attention. “What’d you have in mind?”
“It’s Friday. Why don’t you blow off work in favor of spending the day with me? I’ve got something I want you to see.”
Gee, let me think this one over. Hardly a tough decision. Now, just don’t sound too eager… “I’d like that. So, no training?”
“There’ll be training…a special kind of training,” he said with a wink.
“I’m intrigued. Where are we going?”
“That’s part of the surprise,” he said, finishing the sausages on his plate before whipping out his phone to call someone. “Hey, I need you to do me a favor… I really don’t care what the state of your manicure is. Go to Maggie’s place, pack a bag—you know what to get—give it to Finn, and have him pick us up in about thirty minutes…What?... Yes, she’s right here… I’m not telling her that. I’m not saying it, Ivy. Absolutely
not… And that’s none of your business. Just do it, will ya? Thank you…finally.”
“I really should be more alarmed that your people can go in and out of my apartment at will.”
“Yeah, I always thought it was odd you never reacted to that.”
“Thinking on it, yep, that’s extremely odd of me. But, then again, I’m not exactly normal, nor is my life, so…”
“Who’d want to be normal anyway? Normal is ass-numbingly boring.”
“I like that,” I said between laughs. “What was it Ivy wanted you to tell me?”
Blake rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah, you don’t want to know. It’s something decidedly Ivy.”
“Ah.” I knew it had to be sexual in nature and probably graphic for Blake not to repeat it.
After we finished our scrumptious breakfast, I helped Blake clean the kitchen, despite his protests. By the time we were done, Finn had arrived with my favorite leather weekender. Blake met him at the door and retrieved my bag.
“You mind hanging out in the car for a little bit, Finn?” asked Blake.
“Not at all, boss,” said Finn, waving at me from the door. I waved back.
“Great, thanks. We’ll be quick.” Blake closed the door and walked back to me, bag in-hand. “Here ya go, miss.” He handed me my bag. “If you want to freshen up, change clothes, you can go right upstairs, hop in the shower, and I’ll do the same.”
Oh, no. I had dumb face. I could feel it, and I definitely saw it reflected in Blake’s increasingly curious expression. Worse still, I had ‘dumb-expecting-something’ face, which meant my mouth and hormones were in complete conflict with my manners. See, on the one hand, I wondered if he meant ‘Let’s shower together.’ Hormones responded with a resounding, ‘Oh hell yes’, while my manners politely whispered, ‘That’s highly inappropriate.’
“Are…you…okay?” he asked somewhat slowly, almost as if he’d said it already, and I’d missed it.
“Wait, what? Oh! Yes, yes I am.”
“It’s just you looked a little…I’m not sure what to call it.”
“I believe weird is the word you’re looking for.”
Trying not to laugh, Blake said, “Yeah, maybe in that realm.”
“I, uh, just didn’t know where to freshen up, since you were going to freshen up, and we’d be freshening up at the same time.” Please stop saying ‘freshen up’ or any variant thereof, I beg you.
Slipping his hands in his pockets—God, the size of those arms…not too big, not too small…just freaking right—he said, “I have a guest bed and bath upstairs for you. I’d be in the master getting ready. Unless, of course, you have another suggestion…” He moved so close that I felt the heat from his bare skin.
The shirtless man had the sexiest smirk I’d ever seen on a living being. Oh, did he know how to play; I would bet anything he restrained himself on my account.
“I’m completely certain I am without an alternate suggestion.” Well, that was believable.
He held his arm towards the stairs. “After you, Miss Harred.”
Right. I started up the stairs, acutely aware that Blake was behind me, probably looking at my rear end. Damn if my butt didn’t add a little extra sway with each step. No woman ever had full control over the buttocks when it sensed a sexy man’s eyes upon it, after all. When we reached the top of the stairs, I turned around too fast and rammed right into him.
“Oh, God, sorry,” I said quickly, not allowing my hands to linger on his smooth chest.
“No apologies necessary,” said Blake.
“Uh, which room is it, then?” I asked.
“Mine? Why, it’s right behind me.” There was that cocky smirk again.
Cocking my head and placing one hand on my hip, I said, “You know very well what room I meant, Manx.”
“Ah, that room. Down the hall, first door on the left. It was my aunt’s favorite room to write in.”
“I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit, then.”
“Hey, Maggie?”
“Yeah?”
“I like seeing this side of you.”
“And what side would that be? The side I go to great lengths to keep hidden, otherwise known as the idiot side?”
Blake shook his head. “The lighter side. Don’t get me wrong, I quite enjoy the badass, ball-busting, mysterious side to you, but…this side shouldn’t be hidden. Ever.”
You know that feeling when something wholly wonderful and unexpected happens and your heart swells from a dose of pure, unfiltered joy? That was my heart right this very moment.
“Thank you,” I said.
Blake bowed his head slightly. “See you in a few.”
Walking towards the guest room, I had to check my feet to see if I had sprouted little wings. For a blissfully thought-free moment, my mind had no worries…until the image of my father in the Shade file popped up. I’d worked very hard not to think about my dad doing someone’s bidding with the Manx. Thinking about the many whys and what ifs was utterly fruitless at this point. One day in the all too near future, I knew I’d have to confront Blake and confess everything. But for now, for the first time in my adult life, I chose to sweep the fear, the worry, the questions, and the truth under a carpet in the far corner of my mind. Blake was right—I needed to let my softer, fun-loving side live a little too, if for no other reason than to try to maintain my sanity.
I opened the door to the guest room and eagerly peeked inside. It was a sweet room, quaintly decorated in pale yellows, blues, and a deep rose color. A sage green quilt with cream-colored flower accents lay folded at the bottom of the old four poster bed. I plopped my bag atop an old chest sitting at the end of the bed.
“Okay, Ivy, let’s see what you packed for me.” I unzipped my bag and found my toothbrush and toothpaste, floss, enough underwear and outfits for several days, makeup, and just about all my bathroom essentials. Pulling out a pair of jeans and flow-y, peach-colored blouse, I noticed a red silk baggie with a note tied to it. I tossed my clothes on the bed, along with a change of underwear, and flipped open the note; in elegant script, it read:
Don’t let your privates die of terminal boredom. Kindly exceed my expectations. Ivy.
“Terminal boredom? Exceed expectations? What?” I pulled open the little drawstring bag and found the glow-in-the-dark protection. “Ivy! Ugh.”
I thought about last night, sleeping in his arms. I’d never had a man hold me like that. Of course, I hadn’t exactly been around the proverbial block. One sexual partner hardly amounted to ‘experience’. Then again, life after my parents’ deaths introduced me to situations that very nearly turned me off ever wanting to experience intimacy with any man. I shook my head clear of the dark shadows trying to invade it.
Snatching my clothes and underwear off the bed, I headed to the bathroom, groaning, “Enough of that, brain. Damn well been there, done that. No need to revisit. Focus on the present with Blake and stop trying to muck things up. Little bastard.”
After a quick shower and a change of clothes, I started down the stairs to meet Blake. He was waiting by the staircase, dressed in a white shirt and gray slacks.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Sure, if I knew what I was supposed to be ready for,” I quipped.
“Let’s go, smartass.”
“Go where?” I asked sweetly.
Narrowing his eyes, he said, “Nice try. Out ya go.”
“I’m gonna keep trying to get you to spill your plans, you know.”
“Try all you want. I’m not caving.” He took my bag as I reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Why is it so important that you surprise me?”
“Because,” he said, leaning in, “it’s time you have some pleasant surprises. Now, the quicker you get in the car, the quicker we’ll be on our way North.”
“North?”
“Only hint you’re getting. Come on.”
Outside, Finn stood with Ivy by the town car. Behind the town car was a cherry r
ed sports car, the kind a certain British secret service agent would drive.
Ivy tossed Blake the keys and said, “Driving that car is like having the world’s biggest org—”
“Thank you, Ivy,” Blake interrupted. Finn unsuccessfully muffled a snicker.
“You get my point, though,” she added.
“I think we all get your point,” said Blake.
“But did Maggie get what I was trying to say?” Ivy inquired. Her eyes were clearly telling me there was a deeper message behind her words than what the guys heard.
Blake shot her a ‘WTF’ expression.
For a moment, I was unsurprisingly clueless. Finally, my brain managed to capture Ivy’s full meaning by adding the glow-in-the-dark condoms, her rather pointed note, and her words just now: Blake was exceptional in bed and I should take him for a test drive.
“I’m not that far gone. Of course I get it,” I said, blushing a bit.
“Excellent,” she said, turning to Finn. “I’m ready to go…despite my abhorrence for having to ride in this town car.”
Once Finn saw Ivy into the car and closed the door, he bowed his head to us. “Have a good trip, you two.”
“Bye Finn,” said Blake. “So, Maggie, what do you think of the car?”
“Very spiffy.”
“Wait until I’m driving it.”
Driving it…ooh… Well, thanks, Ivy, for flipping my hormonal switch into overdrive.
“I’m sure it drives, you know, really smoothly.”
Nope, nothing I say could remove my brain from the percolating vat of naughtiness currently brewing inside of me. Truth be told, the practice of playful banter and harmless flirtation was one thing; translating that into something more was quite another.
“That it does,” he said, putting my bag in the back of the car.
He motioned for me to hop on in the car. Once buckled up, he closed my door, rounded the front of the car, his smile wide, and slid in. We buckled up and took off through the city with some incredibly soothing music setting a serene tone. After a bit, we were out of the city and on the highway heading north. Ivy was right about this car; between the ride, the seamless maneuvers Blake made on the road, and the music, I was hornier than the devil himself.
Watercolor Hearts Page 14
