by Cari Quinn
He just needed to know she was okay. That was all. If she sounded all right, he’d say happy birthday and hang up. And he’d find a way to move on.
Eventually.
* * * * *
Later that evening, Kelly came home to a note that she’d missed a floral delivery. But no worries, she could find it in Arthur the super’s office.
Sometimes being sort of friendly with the super was a mixed blessing. She had no interest in those flowers. They couldn’t be from who she wanted them to be from so why bother even going to get them?
She went downstairs to collect them anyway, figuring if someone had gone to the time and expense, she’d at least bring them up to her apartment. But when she saw the bouquet of white daisies—not painted, just pure white and yellow blooms—the sight made her throat tighten.
Whoever had sent her those flowers knew her pretty damn well.
Alana. It had to be. Or maybe Nicky. They’d spent a couple hours commiserating over the past week and he’d slipped right back into her life as if he’d never left. They’d gone to dinner and a movie tonight, and he’d made her laugh when she’d figured that was pretty much a lost cause.
Even if she didn’t have love, she had wonderful friends. And that meant the world.
Kelly carried the box up to her apartment, choosing to take the stairs rather than the elevator. Anything to delay opening the tiny white card. Was it wrong she wanted to pretend for a while she had someone in her life? A boyfriend, a lover. Whatever name she called him, she needed the illusion for a bit longer.
She set the daisies down in the front hall and walked away to wash her hands. Then she drank a glass of soda and stared at the clock. Came back, circled them. God, they were gorgeous. There had to be two dozen of them, each flower more perfect than the last.
And deluding herself wouldn’t help anything.
She pulled out the card and thumbed it open.
These flowers aren’t half as beautiful as you. Happy birthday.
Sucking in a breath, she dropped the card as if it had caught fire. Of course it was unsigned. Maybe Alana wanted her to think Spencer still cared. That was a best friendly thing to do, wasn’t it?
A quick phone call ascertained that no, Alana had not pretended to be her make-believe boyfriend for the day. Nor had Nicky. Or her parents. Or anyone else she could call within the tri-state area.
After she’d exhausted all the possibilities, she sat down on the floor with the phone in her lap. She should call him. Just say thanks and that was it. Easy, breezy, buh-bye.
If she didn’t start bawling, she’d be in business.
She dialed his cell and got voicemail. Naturally. He’d be working. As always. She left the quickest, most inflectionless message she could then hung up and closed her eyes.
The phone rang half an hour later. It was still sitting in her lap.
She flipped it open and stared at the readout.Oh God. She so had no clue how to deal with stuff like this. Maybe she was better off with one-weekend stands. “Hey. You didn’t need to call me back,” she said in her most casual voice.
“I wanted to.” He sounded like a mixture of heaven and hell, wrapped in a thin chocolaty layer of sex-drenched sin. “I didn’t know if you’d realize I sent them.”
“Signing the card usually alleviates that problem.”
He paused. “It’s your day. I didn’t want to make it worse.”
“You didn’t.” It’s already pure hell. “Thank you. Daisies are my favorite flower.”
“I, ah, sort of guessed from the background on your PDA.”
Her cheeks burned. Of course. “Good guess.”
“They suit you.” He let out a breath. “Why’d you quit?”
“Because I didn’t feel the same anymore,” she said, sure he wouldn’t understand what she meant. She’d never see the bookstore the same way again. Easier to step away and start anew than watch what you loved turn into something you didn’t recognize.
“I know it doesn’t change anything but I’m sorry, Kelly. So sorry.”
“I’m okay,” she said hoarsely, praying repetition would make it true.
“Are you?”
“Yes.” I will be.
“What are you going to do now?”
A dozen flippant answers came to mind but she went with honesty. “Try to find something I love as much. If it exists.” She doubted there could be another something or someone, but she wasn’t giving up without a fight. Now that she’d tasted the good stuff, there was no way she was going back to just getting by.
No fucking way.
“I hope you do. Kelly…”
She drew her knees up to her chest and laid her forehead on them. Tears loomed and she didn’t know if she’d be able to hold them off if she stayed on the phone much longer. Which was stupid. This was her chance to grill him.
Did you really sleep with Diana? And if you didn’t, why did you make me think you did? Did you just not know how to let me down easily? So why did you send me flowers?
“I’ll let you go,” he said finally.
She shook her head, not ready to let him go. She’d never be ready. But he couldn’t see her and she couldn’t speak over the lump in her throat.
“Happy birthday, Kelly,” he said softly. Then he hung up.
For a long time, she didn’t move from that spot. In a sense, she had closure. He cared about her. In some small way, he cared. But that didn’t mean they were well-suited. At least she had amazing memories to cling to.
And weep over.
Eventually, she went downstairs to her mailbox. She didn’t pay much attention to the stack of bills, but the small box sent overnight mail caught her eye. No return address. Could be a birthday gift, she supposed, though she’d already had her fill of those.
She tore open the end of the package and shook the contents into her palm. At first she just stared. Then the tears she’d fought broke through, obscuring the object she gripped in her hand.
Her PDA.
Chapter Seventeen
Three months later
Delaney’s Furniture, a sprawling store the size of a full city block, was a place Spencer had avoided entering on sheer principle. He wasn’t a fan of shopping, especially furniture shopping. The pieces in his house he’d picked up through various catalogs over the years, not really caring what they looked like together.
Except his bookcases. Those had to be just right, so he’d had them specially made. But in general? He just wanted a rug, a couch, a bed. He wasn’t a designer. He was a bookseller.
Or he had been until a few hours ago. Maybe he would be again.
Right now, his whole life hinged on a whole lot of maybes.
Prior biases aside, he acknowledged the store was attractive and understated. Almost homey, if you aspired to live in an old-fashioned painting. Subtle violin music greeted him as soon as he opened the frosted glass door but he barely noticed it as he climbed the sloped entrance to the showroom floor. Colorful artwork adorned the walls and the hardwood floors reflected the spills of light from the endless array of ornate lamps. They were even giving away little cups of fancy coffee.
He didn’t want coffee in a thumb-sized cup. Though he was tempted to grab one off the table near the door, just to wet his throat. He probably couldn’t have swallowed it anyway. Too much rode on this coming out the way he needed it to and he’d never been the best closer. What had occurred this afternoon was evidence enough.
But that was the past. And this wasn’t a fight he could lose.
“May I help you, sir?” A coiffed blonde glided up to him, clipboard in hand.
“Yes. I need a bed. A really big one.”
She didn’t blink. “Wonderful. I’m Corinne. Let me show you to our Bedroom Essentials area.”
“Fab.” He slipped his hands in his pockets and jingled his change. It wasn’t as good as pacing, but it would have to do for the time being.
He followed Corinne, his gaze on every face he passed. Th
is was a classy place. How would management react if a screaming fight broke out amongst the box springs and mattresses? Just because he’d come prepared to deal didn’t mean he’d be met with a warm reception.
He almost anticipated a fight. Anything to banish the whitewash that had descended over his world.
God, he missed her. Nothing in his life had seemed right since she’d left it.
They walked forever, winding around sectionals and cozy room groupings arranged near fake fireplaces complete with cardboard cutouts of flames. Finally he saw the bedroom section, which looked mercifully deserted. Delaney’s had just copped its first break of the evening.
“So you said you’d like a big bed. Do you have a preferred brand or—”
“I’ll just look myself,” he interrupted. “Thanks.”
“Oh, but—”
“Thank you,” he said firmly, turning away.
“If you need help, I’ll be up front. Take your time.”
He surveyed the small desk at the back of the bedroom area. Was that hers? Why wasn’t she there?
She was supposed to be working today. He’d checked. Several times. The last thing he’d wanted was to show up and find her gone. Unless there had been an emergency. Or maybe she’d spotted his car in the parking lot and fled out a back entrance, never to be seen again.
Shaking his head at his foolishness, he gave in and paced under the guise of studying the beds. As if he gave a hoot about a mattress. If it didn’t fall to the floor when he collapsed on it, he figured he’d picked a good one.
Selling mattresses and featherbeds had to be beyond boring. She must’ve really been desperate if she’d quit The Book Nook to come work in a place like this, though he didn’t doubt she did well for herself here. She was a hard worker with a great eye for design. Delaney’s had probably snapped her up without a second thought.
So where the hell was she?
Spencer picked up a stuffed sheep pillow and bunched it between his hands, wondering how long he could loiter. Then he heard feminine laughter.Her laughter. The sweetest sound he’d ever heard.
“I’ve got to go. I’m already running late—” She stopped mid-sentence. “Can I help you, sir?”
His hands were still full of sheep. He braced, shifting her way. Even the breath he inhaled so sharply his lungs protested didn’t help.
So much for thinking he was ready.
Dear God, she looked gorgeous. He’d never seen her dressed so…sleekly. Black leather pencil-thin skirt, matching thigh-skimming jacket over a bright red top. Hoops shone at her ears and little clips held back her hair, which now dusted her shoulders. She’d gained an air of sophistication since he’d last seen her, an extra patina of poise. But that same sweet vulnerability he’d fallen for was still there, lurking in her confident whiskey eyes.
If he’d ever questioned his feelings before, he definitely harbored no doubts now. As he met her gaze, he remembered everything they’d had and all that he’d thrown away. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
If only she would give him one more chance. That’s all he needed.
“I’d like a bed,” he said softly. “With you in it.”
Kelly’s heart stopped. Just stopped.
How could Spencer be standing beside a mattress at Delaney’s, holding Buddy the sheep and looking at her as if the last three months had never happened? His eyes revealed so much. If he’d worn that expression the night in his office, she might’ve fought harder. She might’ve even believed they had a chance.
But he hadn’t. And now she didn’t know if it was too late.
Kelly swung her purse over her shoulder and sidestepped one of the many beds. She could list the features and benefits of each without a second thought.
“Sorry, I don’t come with the merchandise,” she said, deliberately reminding him of the morning after their breakup.
Her voice didn’t falter and her steps were steady. Ever so slowly, she was heading toward where she wanted to be. The path to self-assurance had been full of potholes, but she was on her way.
He grabbed her wrist when she would’ve continued past him. “So forget the bed. I’ll just take you.”
His fingers bit into her skin, bringing back erotic memories she’d spent too many nights dreaming about during the long, hot summer. She was hallucinating this whole scene. Had to be. She’d always known they would meet again, but she’d figured it would be at her insistence. And she’d always assumed that meeting would end in goodbye.
This felt very much like hello. With extra emphasis on the “O”.
She inclined her chin. “You could start with something a little more traditional.”
“Like?”
“Like how are you?”
A brief smile twisted his lips. “How are you?” he asked, sliding his thumb down to circle the heart of her palm.
Okay. All right. Absolutely fine. “I’ve been well. And you?”
She expected some standard answer. Not for him to step closer and grab her other wrist and then hold both to his chest as if they weren’t in the middle of the bedroom department at Delaney’s. “Lousy. Miserable.” He stared into her eyes, hiding nothing. “I miss you.”
Even with her heart beating way too fast and her face heating under his stare, she tried to stay strong and hold her ground. Really she did. But it was a halfhearted battle, one she almost relished losing. “What happened between you and Diana? For real?”
“I’d hoped we could discuss that in private.”
She tugged her wrists out of his hold. “It’s been three months. You discuss it right here or privacy will mean you’re spending the rest of the night alone with your right hand.”
Instead of getting annoyed, he flashed her a dazzling grin. “There’s my girl. Even with this sexy new image, she’s still there under the leather and lace.”
“Well, duh.” She tried to roll her eyes but she was secretly pleased by his praise. “They’re just clothes. I have to dress the part of the furniture hawker, you know. No jeans and clogs allowed.”
“You like it here?”
“I do.”
“It’s not The Book Nook.”
“No.” Nothing ever would be. But that was okay. She’d found a sort of contentment at Delaney’s and with her life as it was now, and that was enough.
Well, all right, it wasn’t enough. But she wasn’t crying every night. She’d even started dating again. She’d kissed a guy and hadn’t felt like rinsing out her mouth afterward, a major victory as far as she was concerned.
“Can we go somewhere? Anywhere you’d like. Please.”
She nodded, strangely eager to test the edginess she sensed in him. Was that really all for her? Or was she seeing things that weren’t there again?
Only one way to be certain.Trial by fire, baby.
“I’m late for a dinner date,” she said, expecting him to shoot her one of the irritated, possessive looks he’d perfected. He didn’t. “With my parents,” she added.
“Your parents.” His Adam’s apple jerked as he swallowed. “They’re in town? How…nice.”
“Yeah. If you want to come, you’re welcome to.” She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for the excuses to start. Only a fool would go to dinner with a woman’s parents after what Spencer had put her through.
A fool or a man desperate enough to do anything, she realized when he nodded. “I’d like to, thank you. I’ll drive you.”
“No.” She wasn’t getting in a car with him and they weren’t ending up in a bed before she’d had time to think. Not this time. “Separate cars. We’re meeting at Darby’s. On Ellwood.”
“Okay. Whatever you prefer.”
She stepped back and caught her breath as her gaze roamed his face. He was still so gorgeous her heart hurt to look at him, but the shadows under his eyes had become dark welts. “You look so tired,” she murmured before she could stop herself.
“It’s been a long summer.” He laced his fingers through hers,
lifting their clasped hands to his mouth for a brief kiss. “You look beautiful.”
For once she didn’t argue with him. She wasn’t ready to start bantering with him again, despite her comment about his right hand. It was so easy to fall back into the old routine but she couldn’t. She had to remember her boundaries. If he wanted to be in her life, she wouldn’t make it easy on him.
This time he’d have to work for it.
“I’ll see you there,” she said, drawing her hand away.
He smiled. “Count on it.”
* * * * *
Dinner with Kelly’s parents went better than could be expected. Liking them was a relief. Them seeming to like him was a miracle. He’d figured he’d end up with a bottle of something cold in his lap by night’s end, but instead they killed him with kindness.
Despite Kelly’s assertions of how different she was from them, they were just like her. Sweet, giving, open. Good-hearted people he didn’t have a right to be near, lest his black, festering soul leech some of their white light.
“So what are your intentions toward our daughter?” Cathy Crossman asked him shortly before the bill was delivered.
He glanced across the table to Kelly for help—somehow he’d ended up seated between her parents—but she only sipped her white wine and shrugged.
Spencer reached up to loosen his tie.Here goes nothing. “Well, I’d like to…date her.”
“Mighty big plans there, son.” John Crossman laughed and tipped back his beer. “I figured you as the type to go bigger than that.”
“We didn’t really date the first time.”
“So we’ve heard.”
He suffered a pang of momentary panic at what exactly Kelly had shared with her parents. A glance her way netted him only another one of her mercurial little smiles.
“I’d like to do things differently this time,” he continued after draining his water. “To that end, I’ve drawn up a contract.”
“A contract.” Cathy and John exchanged glances with their daughter. “Sounds like a business deal.”
“Part of it is. I have a proposition for Kelly, something I think she may be interested in.”
