Take Me I'm Yours (Coffee House Chronicles)

by Michelle Miles

  “You jackass,” Ethan said. “You’re letting her get away. Even after all this.” He waved toward the broken case.

  Graeme turned away, watched her walk down the sidewalk toward the heart of downtown.

  “And you said you loved her,” Ethan said.

  Graeme winced, remembering his confession to Ethan a few months after the wedding that never happened. Even then, they’d fought over Marion and Graeme had made the grave error of blurting it out. Why the hell had he told him that?

  “Stay away from her or you’ll have me to deal with,” Graeme had told him.

  “Yeah, right. You’re no threat. Why do you care about her?” Ethan asked.

  “Unlike you, I do love her.”

  But even then, Graeme didn’t chase her like he’d chased—and gotten—so many other skirts. Marion was worth more than a conquest.

  He did love her, dammit. He knew he did. There was nothing he could do about it. She had walked out and he’d let her.

  Graeme whirled on Ethan. “I should tell her the truth about you.”

  “As if she’d believe you,” Ethan said coolly. “She’ll think you’re making it up to cover your ass.”

  “Not if I give her proof of the business records. I can show her it was yours to begin with.”

  Ethan stepped closer to him and lowered his voice to a quiet, dangerous tone. “Are you threatening me?”

  “She already knows you cheated on her with a stripper,” Graeme continued. “What makes you think she’ll come crawling back to you after everything you did to her?”

  “Because I’ve changed.” He gave Graeme a wolf grin. “I haven’t proven it to her yet.”

  “Oh, right.” Graeme rolled his eyes. “So showing up with a bimbo on your arm the other night is showing her you’ve changed. What do you want with her? You only wanted her before for the conquest. She’s nothing but a trophy to you.”

  “And I nearly married her because she was one hell of a trophy. She’ll look shiny and pretty on my mantle, don’t you think? So stay out of my way.”

  Graeme balled his fist, but refrained from punching him again. He’d done enough damage for the day.

  Ethan saw his instinct reaction then relax his fist. He poked him hard in the chest. “You’re the chicken shit now for not going after her.”

  Graeme knew he was. That was why he shut himself off from the world when he painted her. Why she was only real to him in his dreams and imagination. And why he never allowed himself to get involved with a woman longer than a few months. If he couldn’t have Marion he didn’t want anyone. And no one was as good as Marion. He had to figure out how to get her back.

  She rebuffed him after the bad break-up with Ethan. He had tried to be a friend, but they drifted apart. Perhaps because she didn’t want to be reminded of anything of her past life. Seeing her in the Bitter End that morning gave him hope for a second chance. And he still blew it.

  “She doesn’t deserve either one of us,” Graeme said. “Least of all you.” He glowered at Ethan, resisting the urge to punch him again.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ethan had the gall to feign innocence.

  “You left her at the altar. You blew it six months ago. And if she’s smart—and she is—she won’t take you back.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Ethan charged out of the donut shop and Graeme didn’t stop him. He let him go, knowing he would catch up to her.

  “So are you going to pay for this or what?” the owner asked. He must have been a witness to the entire conversation.

  Sighing, Graeme reached for his wallet and pulled out a business card. “As I said, send me the bill. I’m good for it.”

  After tossing his card on the counter, he stepped outside, got into his car and drove away. Graeme knew Marion was smart enough not to believe anything Ethan told her. And in a few days, this whole thing will have blown over and they’d talk again and everything would be forgotten. Or so he hoped.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Graeme didn’t even come after her. He didn’t even try. The more steps Marion took leading away from the donut shop, the angrier she got at both of them for fighting each other. Men acting like boys. It was infuriating. She fought back tears but it was a losing battle. Her breath hitched and suddenly, they were pouring down her cheeks. She clutched her handbag under her arm and hurried down the sidewalk as fast as her heels would take her, looking for a place she could dive into to collect herself.

  She saw a storefront up ahead and went inside, wiping furiously at the tears on her cheeks. It was a boutique carrying women’s blouses, skirts, shirts, pants. She interested herself in the front window display, sniffing and trying to get her motions under control.

  “Can I help you find anything, miss?” the sales lady asked.

  Marion could hear her heels clicking on the shiny marble floor as she approached. “No. Just browsing, thanks.”

  She didn’t want her to see her tear-streaked face. As she glanced down, Marion saw she still wore her heels and cocktail dress from the night before. She wiped her face took a deep breath and turned.

  “Actually, yes you can,” Marion said.

  Thirty minutes and three hundred dollars later, Marion had changed into a new outfit from the boutique. She managed to do some damage to her credit card. Shopping always made her feel better. It soothed her frayed nerves for now. Like putting a band-aid on an open wound.

  The sales lady neatly folded her cocktail dress and placed it in the shopping bag along with her heels. Marion thanked her, took the bag and left the store lighter in the pocketbook but heavier in the heart.

  Her head pounded and she knew it was from serious caffeine deprival. The coffee shop next door was calling her name.

  “Marion, wait up.”

  She froze. What the hell was Ethan doing here? Turning slowly, she spotted him heading straight for her. He had managed to get most of the blood off his chin and nose, but it was still clear he had been in a fight.

  “Can I talk to you?” He smoothed his blood-stained shirt.

  “No.” She hurried down the street, her coffee fixation quickly forgotten. She needed to get away from him.

  “Please, Marion.”

  He caught up to her and fell in step beside her. Damn the man for having those long legs. She increased her pace.

  “Look, I know you said those things to hurt Graeme. I’m not interested in hearing anything else you have to say. So shove off.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” Ethan said.

  That stopped her dead in her tracks. That and the fact the “Don’t Walk” flashed. She cursed for not planning better.

  “I can’t stand seeing you with him.” He actually looked humble and sounded sincere but Marion wasn’t so sure she bought the act. Maybe he really was, then again…maybe he was bullshitting her again.

  “Oh, so insulting him and getting into a fight with him is how you show it?” She gave him a sidelong glance.

  She could never forget he had hurt her deeply and there was no going back to him. Even if he gave her that puppy-dog look. That son of a bitch.

  Remorse flooded his face. “I shouldn’t have taunted him,” Ethan said.

  “No, you shouldn’t have. And making up lies about him is really low.” She glanced around, looking at anything and everything to avoid eye contact while waiting for the damned light to change.

  “Everything I told you was true.”

  She couldn’t believe it. Hearing him say it was true gave her an odd twinge of disappointment. There was no way Graeme was a womanizer. Not the man who had so gently made love to her the night before. No way. She wouldn’t believe it.

  Despite her wish not to, she glanced his way to see his mouth clamped and his eyes fixed on her. She searched his gaze and nothing about his look told her he was lying. He seemed to be telling her the truth.

  “Yeah, right.”

  The walk sign finally flashed and she started across the street. E
than stepped off the curb with her. But Ethan still followed, trying to convince her Graeme was a bad guy. Why hadn’t Graeme bothered to follow her? At this point she wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. She was so enraged, she turned on Ethan and gave him a violent shove backward.

  “Leave me alone!”

  He stumbled a few steps but maintained his balance. His face fell. He held out his hands in surrender. “I swear it’s true.”

  Turning, she darted away, hurrying faster and reaching into her handbag for her phone.

  “Marion, I’m not lying. Not this time.” He snagged her arm and pulled her to a stop, holding her in place. His expression stilled and grew serious. “Graeme’s had a string of girlfriends over the last few years. They never last more than a few months. He gets tired of them and breaks up with them before they can get serious. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  Wasn’t that ironic? He was the only one who’d managed to hurt her.

  That lump formed again in her throat. She swallowed hard, forcing it away. Ethan’s voice was starting to get on her nerves. She wanted away from the leech because he was sucking dry all her energy. She couldn’t stand to be around him another second.

  “Well, then, congratulate yourself for telling me the truth and saving me from becoming another girl on the list.”

  Shoving him off, she turned on the toe of her new black flats and darted up the street.

  “Marion!” he called. “Wait!”

  “No!” she shouted over her shoulder. Glancing behind her, she could see he still followed her. Couldn’t the man take a hint?

  “Marion, let me at least take you home.” To her horror, he trotted after her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

  She shrugged him off.

  “No way. You’re not getting within a foot of my house. You stay away from me.” She poked him in the chest with all her anger, making him wince and step back. He looked so hurt, so lost. But she wasn’t going to fall for it. Not again. “I’ll call a cab. And thank you very much for all the information you’ve given me today.”

  She sped up, walking as rapidly as she could in the early heat of the day. Ethan lagged behind finally and stopped. She saw him looking forlorn as she rounded a corner and stopped, pressing her back against a building to catch her breath.

  Humiliation, anger, frustration…all these emotions ran through her. Her head fell back against the hard brick of the building and suddenly that’s all she wanted to do—pound her head against the wall.

  Her breath hitched as she reached into her handbag for her cell phone. The only person in the world who could understand was her best friend. As Delilah’s phone rang, the tears started to flow.

  “Mar? What’s up?”

  But her only response was a hitched sob.

  * * * * *

  “It’s too damn bad we can’t kill the bastards.” Delilah plucked the olive off the toothpick that had only moments ago resided in her dirty martini.

  Marion told Delilah the whole sordid tale over dinner at their favorite Mexican restaurant. She swirled her straw in her frozen margarita and pushed the last two bites of her chicken flautas around on her plate. She finished pouring her heart out to her best friend and sucked the remaining frozen treat from her glass. The waiter walked by and she flagged him down, ordering another round.

  “It really is,” Marion agreed. She had thought the very same thing.

  “Assholes,” Delilah said around a mouthful of olive. “Both of them.” She took a healthy swig of her martini before forking enchilada. “I sure hope Ethan is proud of himself for telling you Graeme’s romantic history.”

  “The thing is…I think he was proud.” Marion pushed rice around on her nearly empty plate. “The whole time he was following me through downtown, he had this sad-eyed look on his face. Like he was sorry he said anything but not sorry enough.”

  “And probably even sorrier you didn’t come running back to him. That prick.”

  Delilah was never one to mince words. She always told it like it was and everyone knew where they stood with her. One of her favorite sayings was, everyone is entitled to my opinion. And it was very true of her best friend.

  “Do you think he made the whole thing up about the girlfriends?” Delilah asked. “Just to get back into your pants?”

  “That’s the thing. I think he really was telling me the truth about Graeme and his string of women,” Marion said. “That’s why Graeme punched him.”

  “I would have given my left arm to see that.” Delilah sighed wistfully. “So what about Graeme?”

  “What about him?” Marion shrugged. She didn’t see any point in trying to contact him anymore.

  “You know what about him. You’re going to see him again, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Mar, just because he’s had a very active relationship life doesn’t mean you guys can’t have some fun together. And who knows…maybe you’re the one he’s been waiting for all this time. Maybe you’re the one who can tame the beast, so to speak.”

  Marion’s fork clattered to the plate as she stared across the table in disbelief at her friend. “Who are you again?”

  Delilah sipped her drink, refusing to answer.

  “This from the person who didn’t want me to get involved with him,” Marion said. “What gives?”

  “Nothing. I think you make a nice couple. That’s all.”

  “Okay, that’s the nice fluffy answer. Now stop with the bullshit and tell me the truth.”

  Delilah put down her glass and leaned forward. “I saw you two at the gallery. The way he looked at you and the way you looked at him? Sparks. So many sparks in fact, I thought the whole place was going to catch on fire.” She exploded her hands to animate her point.

  Marion sat back in the booth, crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “I am somewhat less than amused.”

  “He’s so hot for you, it’s not even funny.”

  “But he lied to me about his website business.” She leaned forward, glaring, feeling that anger again. She wanted to know why he’d lied.

  “A minor technicality.” Delilah waved it away, as if it were nothing.

  “And his past history with girlfriends.”

  “So?”

  “But—”

  “Mar, I’m sure there is a perfectly good explanation. He probably didn’t want to tell you about the business because maybe he’s a little embarrassed about it. Obviously, he makes good money at it. And obviously, he’s gotten some great sex with hot broads from it. But so what? You’re no prude by any stretch of the imagination. And besides, are you going to deny it wasn’t the most exciting sex of your life?”

  True, she wasn’t a prude and she really didn’t care what sort of websites he designed for a living. It was the mere fact he seemed to hide it from her that bothered her. Even though he was open and honest with her about everything else. Well, except for the art thing. He hid that from her too.

  Maybe, she mused, he was waiting for the right time to tell her. To let her in on the secret and explain why he wanted to keep it under wraps. Maybe his artist personae didn’t quite match his website personae and there would be dire consequences if the two worlds collided.

  And okay, so he’s had quite a few girlfriends. And he seemed to practice safe sex…except with her. She shoved away that thought immediately. She wouldn’t think about that. Not right now.

  “Anyway, I’d kind of like to see these websites of his.” Delilah gave her a devilish grin.

  “Delilah!” she couldn’t pretend for one second she was scandalized by the thought. She knew her friend all too well.

  “Don’t you want to see them?”

  “No!” She shook her head.

  Delilah chuckled, and then said, “By the way, how was the sex? You never bothered to give me the juicy details.”

  Marion made sure to leave out all the details of their encounters, especially the tidbit about him sketching her naked. The memory of their night a
nd morning flashed through her mind now. Graeme on top of her, rising up ever so slightly to look down between them and see him sliding in and out of her.

  She shook her head, pushing away the unwanted image. “It was fine.”

  “Liar.” Her friend leaned forward. “You promised me all the details. Remember?”

  “That was before.”

  “Before what? Before you decided he was unworthy?” Delilah looked disappointed. “Come on, Mar. I haven’t had sex in nearly three months. I’m hard up. Please share.”

  “What about Mr. GQ?”

  “That guy at the gallery?” Delilah asked and Marion nodded. “A dud.” She waved her hand, dismissing him. “Couldn’t kiss for shit. If he doesn’t know his way around my mouth, then he won’t know his way around my clit.”

  “Nice.” Marion scowled but couldn’t stifle the grin that crept over her face.

  “I’m waiting.”

  Heat rose to Marion’s cheeks. How could she tell her friend about the incredibly hot sex followed by a morning-after sketching session and then even more hot sex? Delilah leaned across the table toward her.

  “You have a dreamy look on your face. So spill it.”

  “It was great, actually.” She could remember the way he smelled as if he were right next to her. “He’s good at it.”

  “And…?” she prompted, one tawny eyebrow raised.

  “And he made me come six times.”

  “Only six?” Disappointment flooded Delilah’s face.

  “I stopped counting, actually.” Marion flushed, her face burning hot.

  “Better. What else?”

  “And he…does this thing with his tongue that’s fantastic.”

  “On your—”

  “Yeah.”

  “Right.” Delilah sat back again, expelling a breath. “There’s nothing hotter than a man who knows how to do that just right.” She had a dreamy look on her face.

  “And I let him sketch me.” There. She said it. Blurted it out actually, without thinking about it too much.

  “You did?”

  Marion swirled the straw in her glass. She couldn’t stop thinking about the things she’d done for him and to him. The things he’d done for her and to her. She glanced across the table at her friend who didn’t seem the least bit surprised.