Love at Large (10 page)

“I’m Lauren Giles.” She nearly died inside as she shook his hand. “I live in 5C. Just next door to Gladys Bronowski, whose basket you carried earlier.”

“Ah. Yours is the place with the funny little cat-face door-knocker? Very cute.”

“Oh, you saw that?” She reached into the paper sack and pulled out a bag of lettuce. “Yeah, I’m a bit of a cat person. I collect cat artwork.”

“Do you also collect cats?”

“Oh, well, I have two. It would be impossible to have more than that in a small apartment. Besides, two shed more than enough hair as it is.” She set two bell peppers near the sink, orange and yellow, gave them a quick rinse, then reached for a knife from a nearby wooden block and began chopping them on an inlaid cutting board.

“Yes, collecting feline artwork is safer in that respect. Far less shedding. And no litter boxes.”

“How about you? Do you have cats?”

“No, no pets of any kind I’m afraid. I’ve spent too much of my life moving around to be able to keep one. That’s the trouble with growing up a military brat.”

“Oh? Your parents were
in the service?” Lauren’s hands stilled over the peppers she was slicing.

“Dad was a Marine. He’s retired now and driving Mom crazy with his do-it-yourself projects. She
finally
has a house of her own, and Dad is doing all he can to bring it down around her ears.” His laughter was warm and mellow like burnished brass.

“Was it hard on you, moving all the time like that?” She reached into the bag once more, and out it came. The biggest cucumber Lauren had ever laid eyes on.
Oh my--!
Face flushing
, s
he tossed it next to the sink and refocused her attention on Jamie’s deep voice.

“Well, yeah, a bit. Hard to make and keep good friends, you know? Plus, I was a bit of a nerd. Kinda shy. I always had my nose in a book, being the portable best friends that they are.” He shot her a glance across the sink as he shuffled crisp lettuce leaves beneath the water running from the tap.

“I guess you haven’t changed that much, then?.. Ahm.. I mean as far as loving books.” Lauren cursed herself for implying that he was still a nerd, and cringed yet again as Jamie picked up the cucumber and began to wash it. Unable to tear her eyes away from the sink, she stared, mesmerized by the way he caressed the vegetable.

Lauren Giles, you are pathetically juvenile. Grow up already!

“Oh, I’ve changed some.” He waggled his eyebrows and gave her a wolfish grin. “Things started getting better for me when I was ten
and we moved to Okinawa. I discovered Karate, and I’ll tell ya, signing up for lessons was the best thing I could have ever done for myself. Since then I’ve branched out into other disciplines, Tai Chi and Thai Boxing.”

She blinked up at him. “What’s tie-boxing? Is that some sort of origami gift-wrapping technique?”

“No.” His magnificent lips twisted in a fascinating quirk. “’Thai’ as in Thailand. ‘Boxing’ as in knocking some guy around a ring.” He made a fist and flexed his formidable bicep.

“Oh!” She laughed. “That’s definitely not gift-wrapping then.”

“Nope. Not even close. Although I’ve also tried a bit of wrestling, and managed to tie one guy up in a pretty fancy knot.” He looked a bit wistful. “I loved living in Okinawa. Best three years of my life.”

“I can see it certainly influenced your decorating tastes. All the oriental accents make your apartment so .. elegant.”

“For a guy, you mean?” He grinned. “I’m frequently accused of having my place decorated by my mother.”

“Oh no. I think it’s very masculine, although I must say I don’t know many men who care for fresh flowers.” She smiled at the calla lilies arranged in a sleek ebony vase on the coffee table. “My place doesn’t look so much ‘decorated’ as ‘desecrated’. It’s a complete mess right now.” She sighed at the depressing thought of all the work waiting for her downstairs.

Jamie gave a derisive snort. “Well, if you could see around the corner into my bedroom, you’d be unable to miss the havoc I’ve wreaked with all my packing boxes and junk. The bedroom is unfit for human habitation. I’ve actually been sleeping on the couch for the past week.” He made a wry face in that piece of furniture’s direction.

“Yeah, well. Moving is a real chore. And it takes longer when it’s just one person unpacking and organizing.”

“Oh, do you have a lifetime of experience moving too?” He bent down, groped in the cupboard beneath him, and retrieved large bowl.

Lauren’s investigated his assets and made a swift nod of approval at the view.

“Well…no. I have to confess that I’ve never really moved much in my life. I mean, I grew up here in Portland. My folks still live in the same house, in fact.” She reached for a tomato. “The only moving I had to do was when I got married. I got the apartment in the divorce, so I didn’t have to move then. Oh, and I moved once before that when I
finally
convinced my folks to let me live on campus at PoGo.”

“PoGo?”

“That’s what it was called way back when my folks went there.” She smiled. “Portland-Gorham. But it’s been called USM for a long time now.”

“You went to Southern Maine?” He smiled. “I’m teaching Philosophy there. Or rather, I will be when the summer sessions start. That’s why I was reviewing the book you so kindly returned to me. It’s one of the texts I’m covering in my first class.”

“Oh, you’re
that
kind of doctor. I saw your name in the cover of your book, and I thought, well… I can’t believe you actually forgot it in the laundry room. I’d die if I left any of my teaching prep work lying around where someone might take it.” She dropped her jaw in mock horror.

“You teach too?” Pleasant surprise crossed his face.

“Yeah, I have a degree in Elementary Ed. But right now I’m head teacher at a daycare. It was only supposed to be a ‘tide-me-over’ job til I landed something at a school, but I love my babies so much I can’t convince myself to leave.”

“Must be fun getting to play with all those rugrats.“ His blue-green eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“It is! I can’t imagine doing anything else. Except maybe being a mother. The only way I’d give up teaching is if I had kids of my own.”

“I like kids too, and I hope I have some one day. But I’m afraid I can’t see myself giving up teaching for it. I mean, I really want them, but I enjoy philosophical debates far too much to quit the education biz. Nothing better than arguing circles around some pompous old fart of a professor who hasn’t bothered to re-examine his views since his best buddy Plato passed away.”

He sliced through the cucumber with deft precision, while Lauren pretended not to notice. She looked up at him instead, a smile hovering on her lips.

“If you like arguing so much, why didn’t you go into law?” She immediately regretted asking the question, stiffening as she recalled a certain lawyer from her recent past, and how miserable the cheating son-of-a-gun had made her feel.

“Oh, no. Law is not for me. I prefer pontificating about the meaning of life, not the man-made rules which govern it.”

He made another slice across the cucumber. Lauren took a deep breath and drew her attention away from Jamie’s work and focused it squarely back on her own where it belonged.

“
H
EADS UP!”
J
AMIE
came from behind her with the frying pan and dispensed its contents onto the plates, arranging the chicken against the colorful salad and boiled new potatoes Lauren had dished out.

As a final touch, he uncorked a bottle of wine and poured it with a flourish into the delicate cobalt goblets gracing the table. He then pulled out one solid oak chair for Lauren and took his own place. His gentlemanly attitude was nothing new to her. Brad had done it all the time. But with him, it always felt like a show for the sake of whatever client or partner was in their presence.

“So.” Jamie speared a buttery potato with his fork. “Tell me how it is such a lovely lady as yourself didn’t already have a hot date on a Saturday night?” He winked at her as he popped the potato into his luscious mouth.

“Oh.” She could feel the heat of a full-strength blush creeping over her cheeks. “Well, I haven’t really gotten back into the dating scene yet. I mean I could have. The divorce has been final for months, but I just haven’t felt ready before this.” Lauren could have kicked herself for implying that she was suddenly ready to get back into the meat market just because of his arrival.

She cleared her throat. “Jamie, I have to say this is the best chicken Marsala I’ve ever had. But I am a bit curious, with your obvious preference for all things Asian why you didn’t make something eastern?”

“Actually, this meal is a treat for me. I mostly eat stir-fry, not just for the Asian connection, but because I’m trying to keep healthy. My mom’s side of the family is one long list of who’s who with heart disease and diabetes.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. But I know what you mean. I’ve got that on both sides of my family too, but I can’t say that I’m really doing well watching what I eat. I used to occasionally go on a diet, but out of sheer vanity—not for health purposes.”

“You don’t need to be going on diets, you’re lovely as you are.”

Lauren blinked at him several times, trying to gauge his sincerity on the subject, then took a deep breath and plunged ahead when she felt he meant it. “Thanks. A couple of years ago I would have thought you were crazy to say so. But as it stands now, I agree with you.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Well, that you agree with me now. But I’m sorry you didn’t used to. What made you change your mind?” He sipped at his chardonnay.

“I performed surgery on my self-diagnosed emotional cancer. A ‘divorce-ectomy’, if you will.”

He quirked an eyebrow.

“Well, I mean it wasn’t
all
Brad’s fault. I was a bit strung out when it came to food and my body before I met him. I can’t think of a single woman I’ve ever met who hasn’t been on at least one diet, you know?”

He nodded as he tore off a chunk of the focaccia. “Well, I can. But there aren’t many, it’s true.”

“I’d been kinda chubby as a teen. Not huge—well, I’d thought so at the time, but really not that big. Smaller than I am now by a good twenty-five pounds. And way more active. I was still hiking and biking and cheerleading back then. But when I started classes at USM, I got stressed out and started eating more. I always thought that the ‘freshman fifteen’ was reserved for students who lived on campus, but apparently commuters aren’t immune.

“Anyway, I saw Brad around campus, and just thought he was a dream—tall, lean, wavy blond hair and ice blue eyes. But Mr. “Captain of the basketball team” didn’t even know I was alive. So I decided to get his attention by getting thin and pretty. I starved myself over the summer and was nice and slender by the time fall classes started sophomore year.” Lauren pushed a piece of yellow pepper around her plate, tracing the Prussian blue pattern spiraling to its center. “As luck would have it, Brad and I turned out to have the same English class, so I had something to talk with him about. You know, as an ice-breaker. At first I tried to sit next to him and say hi or whatever. But after a while
he
started sitting next to
me
. And wanting to compare notes on class.”

Jamie smiled. “I see that sort of thing going on in my classes all the time. What happened next?”

“He finally asked me out, and I was over the moon. We went to dinner and he ordered everything for us. If I’d been more with it and there had been fewer stars in my eyes, I would have noticed what was really going on. He was chowing down on steak, and I was eating light pasta with salad. And it was always like that. Whenever we went out to eat, he chose my food. But I didn’t think anything of it. Just assumed it was all part of being a gentleman, you know?

“Anyway, we dated for two years, then he proposed Christmas Eve of senior year, and we got married in June after graduation. We did all right for a couple of years. He was taking law classes, and I was substitute teaching and trying to keep us alive financially.” Her hand clenched at the linen napkin by her plate. “But he got more controlling. When he finished law school and found a job, we moved into this building and he decorated our place--didn’t want me to have a thing to do with picking anything out. He wanted everything to be perfect for when we hosted dinner parties for work, and so on. He got more insistent about what I ate. What I wore. Who I talked to. And the more he yelled at me, the more I ate. The more I ate, the more he yelled. The breaking point was the office Christmas party year before last, when he told me he was going to go to it alone because he was too embarrassed to be seen with me. And so he just took off and left me home.

“But I screwed up my nerve, got all decked out and turned up anyway. And got the shock of my life when I saw him kissing a girl under the mistletoe. I mean really kissing her. As in examining her for tonsillitis with his tongue.” Lauren dropped the much-abused napkin into her lap and tried to smooth out the wrinkles she’d created.

“And that’s when it everything fell into place. All his late nights, his anger, his never wanting to touch me. I knew then he’d been fooling around. Maybe with that girl, maybe with others. I dunno. I think there might even have been one in this building.” She bit her lip.