Ethan snarled. “Maybe not. But you’re not much better and I have a lot more to offer her.”
“Such as?”
“Luxury beyond her wildest imagination. I can give her anything and everything she wants.”
“Those are just things. They don’t matter to her.”
“They won’t matter if she doesn’t marry me.”
The light bulb suddenly turned on. “This isn’t about Marion, is it?”
“Of course it isn’t. It’s about me getting respect from my father and that corner office when he retires. It’s about me getting my mother off my back so she can go to the country club again. I can’t get any of that without Marion.”
“You son of a bitch.” Graeme balled his fists.
Ethan leaned toward him, dropping his voice. “And if you tell her, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
“Don’t threaten me.” He’d kicked his ass once, he could do it again. Ethan still had the bruises to prove it. “And, oh, I plan to tell her. I’m sure it won’t be too hard for her to believe since she already has a bad taste in her mouth from you.”
Graeme didn’t wait for a reply and headed after the ladies. The delay was long enough to allow both Delilah and Marion to disappear inside the bathroom. The restrooms were in an alcove off the bar area. An open doorway and a short hall led to them. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. As he waited, he saw Ethan bolt from the restaurant.
Chicken shit.
And he had the balls to call him that in the donut shop that morning. It was like him to tuck tail and run.
Inside the ladies room, he could hear them shouting at each other. That wasn’t good. Delilah was supposed to convince Marion to let him talk to her. Instead, they were fighting? A very bad sign.
A few minutes later, Delilah burst out of the bathroom. He stood straight. Her face was a dark shade of red. She stopped short when she saw him.
“Good luck with that,” she said.
He snagged her by the arm. “Wait. What happened?”
“Why don’t you ask your girlfriend? Because I’m done talking to her.” Delilah jerked her arm free and walked away.
“Where are you going?”
“Home,” she said over her shoulder.
“How?” Graeme started after her. She rode with him and he couldn’t allow her to call a cab. It’d cost at least sixty dollars to get home and he couldn’t have that on his conscious.
“I have a friend here, Graeme, and not the one in the bathroom. I can hitch a ride.”
“Delilah, wait a second.” He hurried after her, reaching for her and spinning her around to face him. “What did Marion say? What happened?”
Her lips parted to answer when the bathroom door opened and closed behind them. He glanced over his shoulder, saw Marion standing there with a look of distaste, hurt and confusion on her face. Her gaze slid to Delilah and it was one of complete and utter malice. He dropped his hands immediately and Delilah spun on her heel and took off.
Whoa. That’s really not a good sign.
Delilah and Marion had been friends for as long as he knew them. He couldn’t imagine what transpired in the ladies room that would have caused such heated looks between them.
Marion shook her head and started past him but he put his hand on the door jamb, blocking her passage. She looked up at him and he could see the shimmer of tears in her deep brown eyes.
“Marion—”
“Don’t even bother, Graeme.”
“About tonight—”
“I don’t want to hear it, okay? Let me by.”
“No,” he said, sounding more stern than he meant. “I want to explain—”
“There’s nothing to explain!” she nearly shouted.
Something inside him snapped. He grasped her by the shoulders and pushed her against the wall, pinning her with his weight. She pushed weakly at his shoulders, trying to shove him off.
“Let me finish one mother fucking sentence, all right?”
She blinked slowly, her eyes wide and round. “All right.” It shuddered out of her on a breath.
“I asked her to bring me here tonight. I wanted to talk to you.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said. Her chin quivered. She was about to lose all composure. And it was all his fault.
“I couldn’t talk to you that day at the gallery. I have my reasons.” He paused and she waited. She never took her gaze off his.
“Well, what are they?”
“I can’t tell you. Not yet.”
“But you can tell Delilah?” she snapped. She shoved at him again, but he wouldn’t budge. “Let me go, Graeme. If you want her, far be it from me to stand in your way.”
“What?” His brows knit.
Is that what she thought? She thought he really wanted Delilah instead of her? Was she insane? Didn’t she realize she was the only woman he had dreamed about for years? She was the only woman he had wanted or loved unconditionally? Didn’t she know that every woman he’d ever dated would never measure up to her?
Sure, Delilah was beautiful and sassy. She could dress for success or seduction.
But Marion was the love of his life.
Marion clutched his shirt front in her fist and gave a half-hearted shove. Tears were in her eyes now.
“Please, Graeme. Let me go.”
He couldn’t. If she walked out that door tonight, it would seal the end of their romance forever. And he couldn’t let her go. His hand brushed over her cheek, then swept across her neck and tangled in her soft brown sugar hair. He put enough pressure on the nape of her neck to make her look up at him and then he kissed her.
She was reluctant at first, not moving, not responding. But the more he demanded from her mouth, the more she yielded. The more she forgot they were standing in front of a restroom in a high dollar restaurant.
Her arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer. He could smell her perfume and feel her luscious curves molding against him. Yes, she was made for him. Just as he always knew she was.
Their tongues tangled, each trying to control the other. She kissed him back with a fierceness he never thought possible. He pushed her harder against the wall, his hand flattening against her abdomen.
He popped the button on her jeans and slipped his hand inside, like he had that night on her front porch. She was pliant in his arms and so willing. She rocked her hips against his hand as he stroked her hot wetness. Proof she still wanted him.
A sexy moan bubbled in her throat, rumbling against him. His cock was painfully hard with the want for her. He removed his hand and pushed his entire body weight against her, grinding his hard cock into her hips.
Marion’s hand clutched the nape of his hair, their mouths never ceasing. Her other hand pushed against his crotch, palming his hardened length. He groaned with pleasure, annoyed with the barrier of clothing between them.
And then, as if she realized where she was and what she was doing—or perhaps she found his weak spot—she shoved him roughly. Before he could catch her, she had slipped out of his arms and walked swiftly away.
Chapter Seventeen
Marion knew the moment the foul words were out of her mouth, they were a mistake. But she had let anger and hurt overcome her. She stood a long moment in the bathroom after Delilah left before finally taking a deep breath and calming her ragged nerves. She smoothed her sweaty palms down her jeans and opened the door.
She wasn’t prepared for the sight of Graeme holding Delilah, looking informal and intimate. Again, her logical brain told her there was nothing going on, but her emotional brain told her it was inexcusable. He dropped his hands immediately, looking guilty as if he had been doing something he shouldn’t. Which he wasn’t.
Delilah took off, her heels clicking a final good-bye as she left them behind.
Marion shook her head and started past Graeme. He blocked her exit, his big body taking up all the space and sucking up all the air. Oh, sure, she could have duck
ed and gotten away but a little piece of her wanted to see what he would say.
“Marion—”
“Don’t even bother, Graeme.” But the bigger piece of her—the bitter piece—won over.
“About tonight—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” she interrupted again. Her heart beat fiercely in her chest, her hands shook. “Let me by.”
“No. I want to explain—”
“There’s nothing to explain!”
He shoved her toward the wall, pressing against her, dangerously close. His pale blue eyes pierced her to the core, anger flashing in them.
“Let me finish one mother fucking sentence, all right?”
She knew her eyes widened with surprise and she blinked once, slowly, never taking her gaze off his. She had never seen him look so incensed and it made her want to recoil.
“All right,” she said at last, her voice a faint squeak. She’d let him explain, if only to hear what excuse he had up his sleeve.
“I asked her to bring me here tonight. I wanted to talk to you.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Nope, nothing indeed. She didn’t want to hear any of his reasons why he passed by her that day in the gallery. Or why he couldn’t call her to apologize. Or why he needed to talk to her in person. She suspected it had something to do with that l-word Delilah mentioned, but she was too angry and too upset to listen or accept it.
“I couldn’t talk to you that day at the gallery. I have my reasons.”
And still he tried to tell her he had reasons. She gulped hard, refusing to cry. She wouldn’t let herself show that kind of emotion in front of him. He needed to see how angry she was, not that she was a weak simpering fool who happened to be in love with him too.
“I can’t tell you. Not yet,” he said.
“But you can tell Delilah?”
With weak arms that refused to cooperate, she shoved at him again, but he didn’t budge an inch. He was twice her size and much stronger. She didn’t really expect it to do any good.
“Let me go, Graeme. If you want her, far be it from me to stand in your way.”
“What?”
His brows drew together as confusion went over his face, then dawning. His expression softened, giving her a glimpse at what she thought he might be thinking. You’re crazy. Don’t you know I love you? And he moved closer—if that were possible.
She thought she muttered something else about letting her go but his hand was in her hair, tipping her head back and then he was kissing her. Fiery, passionate, searing kisses. Their mouths fused like a soldiering iron fusing metal. It instantly made her weak, her knees threatening to buckle.
So she slipped her arms around his neck, pulled him to her and kissed him back, if only to keep herself on her feet. She kissed him with as much fervor and ardor as he kissed her. She kissed him because she loved him perhaps as much as he loved her, though he had yet to announce it. She kissed him because she felt like an utter fool for thinking he could want Delilah instead of her. And she kissed him because, whether she liked it or not, he was the one. Like Delilah had said. And she felt guilty for picking a fight with her friend.
All those reasons were perhaps why she allowed him to touch her, to slip his hand inside her and feel her dampness. All for him. She wanted him to know how much she wanted him. She wanted him to know how much she had longed for his touch, how much she had wished he would sweep her into his arms and take her away from this horrid place.
Marion clutched the thick hair at the nape of his neck, her hand slipping between their bodies and feeling his hard cock through his soft gray slacks. He ground against her, wanting her as much as she wanted him.
And if she hadn’t been a total bitch and said the things she had or thought the things she had, maybe they had another shot. She managed to finally shove him away and slip out of his arms. She hurried as fast as she could away from him, feeling as though something had been ripped from her when she left him.
A cold fist had closed around her heart, shattering what resilience was left.
She tried hard to rein that in so Ethan wouldn’t see. But as she approached the table, she noticed he was gone. Marion stared at his empty chair with the napkin haphazardly flung on the seat, trying to comprehend. His gin and tonic was empty, the ice melting and the glass sweating. Her wine still sat untouched, the glass frosty with condensation.
“He left, ma’am.” It was the voice of the waiter behind her. Adding insult to injury, he called her ma’am. “Are you staying for dinner?”
“Did he pay for the drinks?” Her voice sounded distant, hollow, as though she were in a long tunnel, the light closing in on her.
“No, miss.”
That bastard! “How much?” Yes, how much more of this emotional rollercoaster could she take?
“I’ll close you out.”
Oh, it would be excruciating having to wait for the check. “Just a minute.” She reached into her handbag, pulled out two twenty dollar bills and shoved them at him. “Is that enough?”
He stared at it dumbly before finally nodding and taking the money. “Yes.”
She didn’t waste another minute. She headed for the door as fast as her legs could take her. On the way out, she saw Delilah sitting at the bar, her long legs crossed, sipping a martini and flirting with the bartender, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Graeme was nowhere to be found either.
As soon as Marion was outside the restaurant, she burst into tears.
* * * * *
The peal of the phone ringing woke Marion out of a dead sleep. She forced her eyes open to the gray light filtering through her bedroom windows. The phone rang again and her head throbbed painfully with the sound. She couldn’t bring herself to pick it up.
When she finally got home last night, she’d taken a hot shower and fell into bed, crying herself to sleep. She last glanced at the clock shortly after four in the morning. Now the red numbers told her it was half past nine.
She lay back and closed her eyes, the phone ringing once more. Her answering machine finally picked up and Ethan’s voice sounded through the speaker.
“Marion…pick up. I know you’re there.” Pause. “I want to talk to you about last night.”
Yeah, right. As if she wanted to talk to him about that. What was to talk about? He left her there. She got the closure she needed. Ethan was still the same. He hadn’t changed.
“Whatever Graeme told you about me isn’t true.”
Her eyes popped open and she sat straight up, her head objecting to the sudden movement. Ethan had paused again as she stared at the extension in her bedroom, indecision gripping her. She should pick it up? What did he mean by that?
“I really need to talk to you. I’ll be at the Bonjour Café in an hour if you want to meet me.”
There was a click and then he hung up. Stunned, she blinked to clear her head. What did he mean, whatever Graeme said wasn’t true? He never mentioned Ethan, perhaps because she wouldn’t let him talk in the first place. And perhaps because she had let him press her into the wall and kiss her senseless.
And, God, she had so loved those fiery passionate kisses.
She slid to the edge of the bed, her legs dangling over as she contemplated. She could go, find out what he had to say. Because if she knew Ethan, he was trying to cover up something Graeme should have told her.
If she hurried, she could make herself presentable in time for the meeting.
* * * * *
Forty minutes later, she headed toward downtown and parked in a nearby lot. She waited in the car, counting the minutes until she collected her nerves long enough to get out and walk toward the café. She wanted to make sure Ethan was there before her, so she wouldn’t have to sit alone.
He sat outside, the intermittent sun shining on the white wrought iron table. He read the Sunday newspaper and in front of him he had a cup of coffee and a glass of water with condensation running down the sides. He’d been there a while. Good.
&n
bsp; Through her dollar store shades, she kept her gaze pinned on him and took a deep breath. She had to play this to get him to tell her exactly what he thought she already knew.
She paused at the edge of the table, like that morning he had interrupted her brunch. He hadn’t seen her yet.
“Hello, Ethan.”
He lifted her gaze and gave her a faint smile before he folded the newspaper and set it aside. He rose and reached for her, intending to hug her but she backed away.
“Fair enough,” he said. He motioned to the chair opposite him and took his seat.
Marion remained standing, hesitating, before she finally sat. The waiter came over immediately and asked to take her drink order. She waved him away. No, she wanted to get to the point and get this over with.
“Well?” she prompted.
“Thanks for coming.” He picked up his mug took a sip of coffee. “Will you take off your glasses so I can look you in the eye?”
“No.” There was no way she’d give him the satisfaction of seeing her puffy, red eyes. “Get on with it.”
“About last night…” He paused, his words trailing away.
“Are you going to say you’re sorry?” she asked. “Because I’m getting damn tired of hearing everyone say that to me.”
His gaze flicked her up to hers and he said nothing. She huffed out a breath. Suddenly, she didn’t really give a fig about any plans to coerce information out of him. It was time to end this nonsense once and for all.
“I’m sorry too,” she said. “I’m sorry I allowed myself to get sucked into your life. I’m sorry I nearly allowed you back in a second time. I’m sorry I thought we could have a nice future together. I’m sorry I don’t love you the way you love me—or think you love me.”
“Marion—”
“I’m sorry you think I’m the prize, chasing me all over town with these sad-eyed looks hoping I’ll cave.” She leaned forward on the table. “So why don’t you tell me, in your own words, exactly what this is all about?”
He looked stunned. As if this was a Marion he never knew existed. And maybe she didn’t until now. Maybe it took two years to find her courage to stand up to Ethan Baxter, III.
Take Me I'm Yours (Coffee House Chronicles) Page 17
