“Glad I brought you then.”
They rode the tube back toward her apartment then walked until they reached the London Marriot, coincidentally only a few blocks from her flat. Clyde asked her to wait in the lobby. He returned less than five minutes later carrying a picnic basket.
Smiling, he said, “I thought we could go to Hyde Park.”
She shifted her gaze toward the front of the hotel lobby. Since he left, it had started drizzling.
“Oh.” He sounded disappointed.
Ashley had to agree. They had barely spoken about anything besides history, which meant she was exactly where she had been the night before, with no idea who the man in front of her was.
“If you want, we can enjoy it at my place,” she offered.
His eyes glimmered briefly before a smile spread across his lips then he spoke. “I’d love that.”
Once they reached her flat, she allowed him inside and he strode toward the dining room table where he began to unpack the basket. She excused herself to freshen up.
When she returned, Clyde had already plated her food, a sandwich, cheese and crackers. He had also opened a bottle of wine. She sat facing him and waited for him to finish plating his own food.
“It looks great. I’m starved.”
“I made the sandwiches myself. I brought the meat and bread this morning and made them before I picked you up. Luckily, there’s a small fridge in my suite where I stored them.”
He held out his glass to toast then said, “To new friendships.”
Her heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach. Still she forced a smile. She couldn’t say she was surprised. He was a fifteen on a scale of one to ten while she was barely a four. She had no illusions she was anything but mediocre. Too thin with a large butt that didn’t match her frame. There was something else too, something only few had ever seen, her scars.
“I’ve lived in New York for the past seven years,” he said distracting her from her self-loathing tirade.
“Really?” she said unable to hide her surprise.
“Yes. Have you ever been?”
She shook her head. “No, I haven’t.”
“You should.”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes, I have a good job. I work for New York News. It’s a newspaper.”
She took a bite of her sandwich and chewed slowly afraid if she made any sudden movements he’d stop talking.
“I went to New York University. I used to live in Brooklyn, but I moved a short while ago. I live in Manhattan.”
“So you’re writing a story on something here in London?” she asked, confused as to why a reporter from New York would report on anything in the UK.
He appeared to be in deep thought as he took a bite of his sandwich then said, “Yes, I write life and style, which often covers vacation spots.”
Skeptically, she watched as he sipped some wine then took another bite. “But you said you’ve been here before. Couldn’t you just write from what you already knew about London?”
“There’s always something new to see and who am I to turn down a free trip?” He sipped his wine.
But you’ve spent three hours a day for four days at a bakery? Before she could stop herself, she asked, “How much longer will you be in town?”
“Two weeks.”
“So I guess you travel a lot for work? That must be fun.”
He shrugged. “Not really. I go to all sorts of places and see the world, but it’s not so much fun alone, and when you have been doing it as long as I have—”
“How long have you been working there? I mean you can’t be more than twenty-nine.”
“Three years, but like I said, when you travel alone, it’s not the same.”
“I can understand.” From experience, she knew loneliness could be devastating. She had been on her own and alone for more than two years, hardly spoke to her father, and the few friends she had during adolescence were busy with college and jobs. Since moving to France then London, she hadn’t made any new friends. Primarily, she met co-workers, but when they offered to spend time with her outside of work she always refused. She didn’t want friends because the closer you got to someone, the easier it was for them to discover your secrets—secrets like the scars she refused to reveal to anyone.
“You look beautiful today. I haven’t told you yet.”
Her eyes shot up to meet his. His stare was intense as usual. She wanted to believe it was something about the color, the striking sapphire blue that fascinated her, but she knew in her heart it wasn’t. It was the way he looked at her as if he knew her better than anyone else. An absurd thought and feeling and she couldn’t explain it, but she thought it and felt it, often.
“Thank you, Clyde, but you shouldn’t—”
“Shouldn’t what? Compliment you? Why not?”
Her gaze wandered to her half-eaten sandwich. She didn’t respond.
“I get the feeling you don’t realize how beautiful you are. I tell you because you should know.”
How he knew she didn’t consider herself beautiful was beyond her but supposed it could be a number of things: the way she hid behind her clothes, long-sleeves and pants, the way she shied away from compliments or perhaps it was written on her face. Then again, he could think whatever he wanted because he’d never seen the scars that went beyond her skin and into her soul. Not that it made a difference, friendship was what he was after. If he’d wanted something more, it wouldn’t matter. He lived in New York and she in London, an ocean apart.
“Someone should have told you every day of your life, multiple times a day until you believed it,” he said, adamantly.
Shaking her head softly, she said, “You shouldn’t because this…whatever this is…I don’t see how—”
“It will be fine, Ashley. Everything will work out,” he said then held her gaze until she looked away.
She couldn’t grasp what he referred to, life in general or them. “I don’t know what that means,” she whispered more to herself than to him.
He reached for her hand and firmly grasped it in his, shooting shivers up her arm.
“It means trust me.” He paused. “I enjoy your company, Ashley. I enjoy spending time with you.”
She nodded.
“We have time,” he said then released her hand and changed the subject. “Did you get any housework done before I got here?”
“Yes, I cleaned and ran a couple of loads of laundry. I woke up around six this morning.”
“Not into sleeping late or did our outing prevent you from sleeping in?” he asked with a hint of amusement, then he finished his sandwich and placed cheese on a cracker.
She smiled. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wake up at four six days a week. I usually can’t sleep passed six on my days off. It’s hard to sleep in.”
“That’s a shame.”
That I couldn’t sleep? “What?”
“That it wasn’t on my behalf. It would have done wonders for my self-esteem.” He flashed her a crooked grin.
She laughed. “As if you don’t know that you’re ho—” Her eyes widened. “I mean…you have to realize how women look at you.”
Leaning in until his elbows pressed against the table, his eyes twinkled with humor then he asked, “Were you going to say I’m hot?”
She brought her hands to her face to cover the flush on her cheeks. With no way to deny it, she admitted her slip, “Yes.”
“I’m flattered. Coming from you, it means a lot.”
She lifted a brow. Did he really not know or was he pretending for her benefit? With his chiseled features, how could he not know? “You do realize how women look at you?”
“When you can read…” His voice faded.
She dropped her sandwich. “Read? Read what?”
“I have a way with people.”
Tensing, she asked, “You can read them?”
“Something like that.”
She waited patiently for him to elaborate.
> “I can tell how people are before I meet them…sometimes. It’s an instinct I have. It’s difficult to explain, but it’s not unusual.”
“It’s not?” she asked, confounded. To her, it seemed like a rare trait.
“No, it’s not. For example, when I first saw you and you noticed me, you smiled, an endearing, kind, genuine smile. I knew you were a good person right away.”
She felt her shoulders relax. His explanation was rational. At times, she got feelings about certain people, but then again she hadn’t allowed anyone in her life for more than a couple of years, so she relied less and less on those rare instincts.
“I guess that makes sense, but what does that have to do with you being attractive?”
“Most women who look at me like that aren’t the types I would ever find attractive or interesting.”
She couldn’t believe what he’d just said because most men didn’t discriminate. Without thought, they hopped into bed with women, especially if they got the “come hither” look she’d noticed numerous women throw his way. “Why?”
“If they stare at me like that then they stare at every man they find attractive whether they belong to another or not.”
“That’s true, but you can’t help who you’re attracted to, you just are.”
He shrugged, sipped his wine then said, “It’s not all about attraction. With relationships, it can be useless in the long run. When looks fade, there’s nothing left but compatibility.”
“I guess that’s true…” Shaking her head, she chuckled. “My, my, you are wiser than your years.”
“You wouldn’t believe,” he said. “So how come you work six days a week?”
“Because they need me to, and I could use the extra money,” she answered honestly. “I don’t mind. I like my job.”
She paused, lost in thought. She had so many questions she’d wanted to ask, and here he was in the mood to talk, but she was too distracted by his mere presence to think of everything she’d wondered about.
“What are you thinking about?”
Then it occurred to her, and she asked, “What were you doing at the bakery the night I was almost robbed?”
“I hoped to run into you, actually.”
“Oh,” she said. “Why?”
His eyes held hers and intensified. “Because I wanted to get to know you.”
Right. As a friend. She glanced at her watch, a quarter to five.
“Got somewhere to be? A hot date or something?”
“No, I haven’t been on a date since…a long time ago, actually,” she admitted. Though she’d thought their outing yesterday had been a date, he’d made it clear it wasn’t.
“Why?”
She shrugged. “I had a boyfriend in Boston. We dated for two years, but when I left, we broke up. I haven’t dated anyone since. In Paris, it was difficult to date anyone because of the language barrier and here, as I’ve mentioned before, I haven’t really met anyone. How about you?”
“I haven’t dated in about a year, and I’ve never been involved with anyone seriously.”
“Ah, so you are like the perpetual bachelor?” She smiled then sipped her wine.
“I’ve never met anyone I wanted to spend more than a couple of hours with.”
Why was he spending more than a couple of hours with her then? Friendship.
“I mean—”
“I know what you mean,” she interrupted. “You’ve never met anyone you wanted to spend more than a couple of hours with that you were interested in romantically.”
He held her gaze for too long. She watched confounded as a sadness enveloped his eyes.
Finally, he broke the silence. “I should get going. You have an early morning, right?”
She nodded. He stood and collected the basket then headed toward the door.
“Thanks for today,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too disappointed it was over.
“You’re welcome, Ashley. It was my pleasure,” he said then opened her front door and left.
Because he’d left, so quickly, so suddenly, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever see him again.
Chapter 5
Clyde awoke the next day with the unforgiving sounds of a thunder storm pelting his hotel suite’s window. He hadn’t dreamt of Ashley and found that disturbing. He missed seeing her in his dreams and hated to admit it because it meant he’d missed her.
In haste, he removed his covers and glanced at the alarm clock at his bedside, then shifted to spirit form and glided toward Ashley’s flat. Through the rainstorm, he followed her to work, ensuring she arrived safely then proceeded to follow her inside and watch her work.
Around noon, she received a call from her boss asking her to stay late. An hour later, one of the employees, Brenda, headed toward the kitchen, practically sprinting with enthusiasm.
“Spill it,” Brenda said.
Ashley’s demeanor changed instantly, tensing and fidgeting nervously. “About what?” she asked coyly, giving Clyde the impression she knew exactly what Brenda referred to.
“You know what. Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome. How did it go?”
His eyes widened realizing she referred to him. A soft smile spread across his lips. His ears perked up, and although he could hear them from outside if need be, he floated closer.
Ashley turned to check on the pastries in the oven and said, “It went well.”
“Oh, no, you don’t. You can’t blow me off. I want the dirt. Where did he take you? What did you talk about? Was he a gentleman? Did he try to kiss you?”
“It’s not like that,” Ashley said, releasing a heavy breath.
“What do you mean, it’s not like that?”
“We’re just friends,” Ashley said, nonchalantly.
Just friends? His chest tightened, constricting his breathing. He had no business wanting anything more but couldn’t help how he felt. He wanted her to be as drawn to him as he was to her.
“Um…I don’t think so, sweetie. Did you notice the way he looks at you? All intense and unnerving. If a man ever looked at me like that my knees would buckle.”
How do I look at her?
“I think he looks at everyone like that.”
Brenda threw her head back and laughed aloud. “No, he doesn’t because my knees haven’t buckled yet.”
Ashley began mixing a batch of dough then spared a glance at her co-worker.
“Tell me,” Brenda persisted.
Sighing heavily, Ashley asked, “What do you want to know?”
“For starters, where did he take you?”
“He took me to a restaurant, and then we went on the London Eye.”
“I knew it. He’s smooth like he has been around the block for too long. A guy doesn’t look like that and not know how to make the ladies swoon.”
“It’s not like that, trust me,” Ashley said firmly. “He didn’t even try to kiss me.”
He couldn’t. She wasn’t his. She belonged to another, and he belonged to no one.
“But did he ask you out again?”
“Well, yeah. We went to the London Tower yesterday and then had lunch at my place. I mean…he had wanted to go on a picnic, but it started raining, so we just ate at my place.”
“Uh, huh…and there was no hanky panky?” Brenda asked mischievously.
Ashley rolled her eyes, seemingly frustrated. “Look, I’m serious. He’s not interested in me that way. When we toasted, he said ‘to new friendships.’”
This earned a disbelieving glare from Brenda. “Wait, what? He said that?”
“He mentioned he hasn’t met anyone he’s wanted to spend more than a couple of hours with romantically then he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. It was kind of weird. I doubt he’ll call. Does that sound like a guy that’s interested in me romantically?”
The lie burned a hole in the pit of his stomach the moment he had uttered it, yet it stung more now hearing Ashley repeat it. He’d allowed her to believe it because there was no poi
nt. He had no other choice. Even if she possessed feelings for him, she was destined for another, and he was destined to spend his existence carrying out God’s will.
Ashley nodded. “Why are you surprised?”
“Why are you not surprised?” Brenda paused letting her words sink in. “You should be. You’re a great catch. You’re beautiful, smart and sweet. You have a great body, and you can cook.”
Ashley turned away glancing at the ovens again.
“Ash, I know it’s none of my business, but whoever hurt you—you need to let it go and move on.”
Ashley quickly turned, facing Brenda, her eyes widening with panic.
An ache pierced his chest. In a poor attempt to withstand it, he clenched his jaw.
He knew then. Something had happened to her, and he had been none the wiser. He couldn’t read her, but he should’ve guessed. He’d been too occupied in the feelings she aroused in him to put two and two together.
“How did…” Ashley’s words trailed off.
“No one is as beautiful as you are and doesn’t believe it unless they’ve been hurt, badly. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it,” Brenda said softly.
Ashley’s eyes welled with tears.
Watching it, hurt. That deep and now familiar throbbing ache like a blade sliced through his heart.
He wished he could console her and hold her until she forgot or better yet erase her pain.
Brenda closed the distance between them and hugged Ashley. “I’m still convinced he has a thing for you.”
“He doesn’t,” Ashley insisted, pulling away from the embrace.
“Just wait and see.”
“Even if he does, he lives in New York. I live here.”
With a teasing glimmer in her eyes, Brenda said, “I’d move for him.”
Ashley smiled. It partially diminished the pain in his chest.
After Brenda left, Ashley took a deep breath and went back to work quickly and efficiently as if trying to bury the bad memory her co-worker dredged up.
He watched her, his thoughts in shambles, wondering who had hurt her and how. She didn’t deserve it. She deserved to be treasured, spoiled and loved, and yet she had been hurt, hurt so deep years later it still pained her to be reminded of it.
That hurt caused a slew of emotions and thoughts in him he had never experienced before even with Jenna. One overwhelmed him—rage. He knew what it was, though he’d never felt it, because his body pulsed, his blood felt like it boiled. He’d witnessed enough mortals and immortals to know the symptoms.
Heavenly Desire Page 5
