by Ilsa Mayr
When she hung up the dishtowel to dry, he said, "I'll walk you to the stairs."
It took less than ten seconds to reach the stairs. Both stopped.
"What does it mean, to care for someone?" he asked. He could tell by the pink color tinting her cheeks and by the widening of her eyes that she remembered saying that to him. He watched her struggle for words.
"It means that you're fond of that person. That you have feelings for them." She lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. "I think that's what it usually means."
Happiness flooded through him. Quint wanted to shout like a drunken cowboy. He was a drunken cowboy, drunk on joy and rapture. Sensing the tension in Aileen, he controlled his elation. He watched her gaze dart to every corner of the hallway as if looking for a way out. Then he saw her take a deep breath as if she'd reached a decision.
"Remember when you tried to teach me to shoot pool and we talked about the senses?"
"I remember," he said feelingly.
She took another deep breath. "I hadn't planned to do it like this. I mean I wanted to create a romantic atmosphere, but here goes." Aileen placed her arms around his neck. "If you don't mind, I'd like to do that touching thing again."
"I don't mind," Quint managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't mind at all." Her touch felt like an electric current burning its way along his nerve ends. If he were a machine, his circuits would have just shorted out and his parts melted down. He felt her eyes look at his mouth. Quint forced himself to stand very still, his arms loosely draped around her waist.
Aileen raised her face to meet his lips. He didn't hesitate, but brushed his mouth over hers in a whisper of a kiss. Her response, though light and unpracticed, was sweet and intoxicating. Encouraged, he wooed her with countless kisses, each one more potent, more urgent. Finally he tore himself away, fearing he might lose control.
"Quint?" she asked softly, tentatively.
"When, if ever, are you going to invite...Dammit Aileen, I'm no saint, so don't go tempting me." Wordlessly he stormed into his room.
Aileen blinked. What on earth had just happened? One moment Quint was kissing her until she nearly fainted, and the next he closed his door and shut her out. She had to find out what had gone wrong.
Resolutely she knocked on his door. Quint opened it almost instantaneously, as if he'd been waiting on the other side. He didn't say anything but looked at her expectantly.
"You said something about an invitation?"
Softly, gravely he said, "In our particular situation it seemed to me that the invitation ought to come from you."
"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the...er...etiquette."
"You haven't known a lot of men, is that what you mean?"
"I haven't known any," she whispered.
For an instant Quint was speechless. How could he have been so blind and not sensed this?
"I knew you'd be disappointed. A man like-"
Quint placed his finger across her mouth to stop her outburst. "I'm not disappointed. You caught me off guard, that's all. I'm sorry I've been so dense."
She looked at him, her eyes pleading.
Suddenly he knew what he had to do.
Quint pulled her close. "A woman wants words," he said softly. "You told me that once. Dumb of me not to remember it."
He wrapped his hands in her glorious hair and made Aileen look at him. "Words," he murmured thoughtfully. "I'm not usually at a loss-"
"No, you're not," she agreed.
"But these are hard words to say, even if they're short and simple. Especially that one word. I've only said it to two women: to my mom and to my grandmother, my abuelita."
Aileen looked at Quint, waiting.
It was now or never. Risk all or play it safe? Since when had safety been that all-fired important to him?
Quint looked at Aileen, looked into those lovely eyes that made him glad he was alive, looked at those lips that kissed him until he trembled like a leaf in a storm. "I'd rather take you upstairs and show you," he murmured.
"Not yet." She realized how hard this was for him. She liked the way he looked at her. She loved him. Why not make this a little easier for him? "I want to ask you some questions first." He nodded. "Do you like me?"
"A lot."
"Do you find me attractive?"
"You make my blood run hot. Aileen, let me cut to the bottom line." Quint took a deep breath. "I love you. I fell for you...I'm not sure exactly when, but maybe as long ago as that first time I waltzed you around the kitchen. But we kept telling ourselves that it was better if we kept our feelings businesslike, and that slowed down everything."
Aileen shook her head. "No, it didn't. It gave us a chance to fall in love."
"You said us. As you falling in love too? With me?"
"With you. Totally, irrevocably and forever."
"Yeah?" Quint smiled at her. "Irrevocably? I love it when you use fancy words."
"Yeah?"
"Uh huh. Irrevocably, as in not being able to revoke, to take back, to undo?"
"All of the above," Aileen said. "Now what was it you said about taking me upstairs?"
