Love's Battle (True Blue Trilogy) (15 page)

“Fried chicken and potato salad.”

“Favorite subject in school?”

“History. You?”

“Math.”

“Nerd.”

“Sssh, you’ll damage my reputation.” I joked.

“I’m sure it’ll take more than that!”

Veiled innuendos were fair play, “And you’d be willing to help with that?”

“I’d do my best.” Love told me truthfully, her voice turning husky enough that I was glad for the cover the table offered me. Too bad we were out of food.

“I don’t doubt it.” I still couldn’t get the image of those pistons out of my head. “So here’s the money question. What’s your tattoo of?”

“My tattoo?” Love looked stunned, as if she’d forgotten she had it. “How’d you know I had a tattoo?”

“I saw it first when you were running from me at the wedding and then again today at Hope’s.”

“You’re very observant. It’s a phoenix.”

“A phoenix?!”

“A mythical bird that lives for one thousand years before dying only to turn into ash and be reborn. It represents the endless cycle of life and death.”

“Uh-huh. And what made you get that? Most females usually get butterflies, or hearts.”

“What can I say, I feel a kinship.”

Love didn’t have time to elaborate on her cryptic message as our waitress interrupted, taking away the bowl of massacred crab remains, leaving a bowl of hot lemon scented towels and the check in her wake.

“What’s my half?”

“I’ve got it.” There was no way I was going to let any woman pay for dinner. It just wasn’t done.

“This isn’t a date Danton, that’s next Saturday. You can buy me all the hot dogs and nachos you want. Until then… What’s my half?”

The woman was ridiculous. “I’ve got it.” Doing some quick thinking, I offered to let her leave the tip. The compromise was worth seeing her smile. Love’s whole face lit up making it more beautiful. Her blue eye seemed bluer and her green eye greener, if such a thing was possible.

“See, give and take. I told you you’d be good at it.”

When she said it like that, it was so easy to believe.

After paying the check, Love took up her position as driver.

“So where to?”

“Not far, ten minutes from here.”

“House or apartment?”

“Condo. You?”

“Apartment, a wonderful revamped and converted nineteen twenties Spanish revival.”

“When’s your lunch break?” I asked. My schedule would have a cancellation no matter what time she said. “My office isn’t too far from the museum. I’d like to take you out tomorrow, for pleasure.” I reiterated. I didn’t want to give Love the wrong impression. I’d said there would be no business and I meant it.

“Um, tomorrow’s Monday.” Love’s white teeth chewed on her bottom lip as she mentally reviewed her schedule. Taking her unique eyes off the road she looked at me briefly before taking her right hand off the wheel and fitting it into mine. It was electric, a jolting shock, just like the first time out side of the restaurant. “Twelve-thirty. For pleasure.” She agreed.

The answer to my next question was a given since she’d already agreed to lunch and a ballgame, but it needed to be asked anyway. “Can I have your number?”

Happy laughter filled the car. “Is that all you want?”

In the dimming afternoon light I could see perfectly the outline of her body, smell the warmth of her skin, hear the rasp of her breath. No, her number wasn’t all I wanted.

Not by far. And I had a feeling Love knew it.

With another soft laugh that shot desire straight through my gut she stomped on the gas.

Chapter 29

Need

Danton

When Love dropped me home night before last I expected her to come in. A willing partner I was more than happy to assuage a little of the sexually stimulating under current that flowed between us. Thing is, she never left the car. A jaunty little wave of her hand and she was gone.

For the past week Love had been a shadow haunting my dreams. Now that I knew who she was, I didn’t doubt that her face would star in every coming nightly scene, that she would be in my every thought.

I imagined her in the shower- wearing my shirt as she stood in the kitchen scrambling eggs and broiling steak. I saw her in the red convertible stuck next to me in traffic, heard her in the music that played on the radio as I scanned the airwaves. She had me hooked like a fish and was reeling me in.

For every blonde that I saw as I made my way to the office I found myself wishing for her; only to be disappointed by the matching pairs of blue and green eyes in their faces. It wasn’t enough. I wanted the dual combination. I wanted sea foam and sky blue, it was my new norm. I needed it, craved it.

It was that insatiable appetite that had me walking into the Art and Antiquities

Museum at fifteen after twelve.

That and the white box waiting for me on my desk when I made it in to work this morning; a hand written note tucked in the box that read, ‘To finding the magic’. Inside was a dramatic crystalline figurine of an elegant phoenix, its fiery colored wings outstretched, just like the one Love had permanently imprinted on her body.

“Good morning and welcome to Art and Antiquities.”

“Ms. Howard please,” I greeted the young brunette teller wearing a name tag proclaiming her to be Kate. “She’s expecting me.”

I wouldn’t be using the free visitors voucher and had left it at my office on purpose. I wasn’t here to scope out the museum from a business standpoint. No, this was personal.

“Mr. DeAngelo? Ms. Howard left a pass for you.” With a polite smile she slid the plastic visitors badge under the plexi-glass divider. “She’ll be finishing up the tour she’s on in a few minutes. You’re welcome to wait in her office. Just head down the first hallway on your right, her office is the second door on your right. Her name’s on the plaque.”

“Thank you.” I pinned the badge to my Hugo Boss suit, knowing very well I wouldn’t be able to wait in her office.

It took all I had to stroll through the museum, to resist the urge to break into a sprint and looked for Love and the tour she commanded. This strange urge to see her was as foreign as the protective instinct her earlier pain had brought forth yesterday during lunch and much stronger than anything I’d ever felt before. Had this been just a regular pre-Love work day I could have enjoyed the cleaver theme display of nautical vessels and historic pirates paired alongside Hollywood’s versions of Captain Jack Sparrow and his Caribbean pirates. I would have applauded the mannequins that modeled a gamete of clothing ranging from medieval times to the present, each campaign cleverly thought out and executed.

Had my visit been for more than pleasure I would already be strategizing the first steps of an ad campaign that would make Love’s museum Maryland‘s top vacation destination. The place was fascinating.

“Throughout today’s tour I hope you’ve seen both art and antiquities in new and varying lights. Beauty, as you’ve seen, can be found and appreciated in even the most mundane of items. But more than the beauty, more than the price of the objects housed under this roof and what they can fetch in today’s modern market, we need to consider their role in history.”

Love stood at the apex of the pack. Dressed in a brightly patterned white and yellow polka dotted dress, purple bolero, and heels, her small form stood out from the sea of people gathered around her, hanging on her every word.

“Had the heroic and often monstrous actions of our ancestors never occurred, Hollywood would undoubtedly be at a loss for ideas for entertainment. Had their boredom or need to further their own medieval amusements not been a driving force in their lives,

we wouldn’t be able to see or hear the music and plays we enjoy today. They’ve given us Broadway, Opera, and, to my utter disappointment….Heavy Metal.”

The crowd was eating out of her hand, their amused twitters bouncing off the portrait clad walls.

“And dare I say that had fashion not been simplified, we would all be walking around in lace up knickers and whalebone corsets. Thank you for coming in today. Feel free to walk back through at your own pace.”

Standing apart from the crowd I waited, hands in my pocket, and watched while Love answered the questions of those who lingered.

“That’s a good question,” I heard her say, nodding to the mousy brunette standing to her side. “Hang on, ah, Jeremy.” She motioned for the blonde headed man at the end of the hall. Her eyes had taken on much the same far off gleam that Hope’s had just yesterday. Like she was seeing something no one else could. Off handed I wondered what put it there, what she could see with those strange eyes of hers that I couldn’t.

“Jeremy, Molly. Molly, Jeremy.” She introduced, “Molly has a few questions that Jeremy, as our art intern director you’d be better qualified to answer.”

Without waiting for a response she broke away from the couple, leaving them to stand before me.

“Danton.” Her warm hands reached up to stroke my face, light as a butterfly’s wing. “You’re early.”

I couldn’t answer. Instead I cupped my hands around her face as if she were fragile porcelain and pressed my lips to hers.

Chapter 30

Love

The fleeting touch of his warm lips did nothing to diminish the impact of the kiss, seeming only to heighten the response and start my whole body tingling.

“And good afternoon to you, sir.”

“Love. Matchmaking?” Danton asked, inclining his head to the talking twosome.

“Whenever I can.”

“You do that often?”

More than you know. “When I can’t seem to help myself. They just,” I shrugged, unable to put what I saw into words, “Look right together. Wouldn‘t you agree?”

Danton shook his head. He couldn’t see it or the limitless possibilities that stretched before Molly and Jeremy. As his hands fell from my face I snagged one, unwilling to break contact. Little shocks of electricity coursed through my system and I wanted more.

“What would you like for lunch?”

Thoughts of a quickie passed through my mind causing my heart to race. “How do you feel about Mexican?”

“Ole.”

“Let me get my purse and we’ll go”

“You’ve really got a nice place here.”

“Pleasure only,” I reminded him. “Thank you though, for the compliment, it’s my whole life.” Unbeknown to Danton I meant that pretty much literally. “We’ve tried to bring past and present together in a way that everyone can find enjoyable without distracting from the educational aspect. You won’t know where you’re going, until you know where you’ve been.” I lectured. “Speaking of which, how is Aerilyn this morning?”

“Aerilyn?”

“Our fair feather friend. Her name on the tag means ‘beautiful air’. I thought it suited her.”

“She’s found herself a home. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like her. Is she working, have you found the magic?”

“Too soon to tell.”

Opening my office door, I let Danton go first. “There’s still hope for you yet. A good thing I don’t give up easy. Welcome to my home away from home.”

The inside of my office was another reflection of myself. The walls were an oddly calming mango orange, the carpet and seating a quiet cream. It was like being inside a Creamsicle. Opening the door I crossed to my desk, taking my purse from the waiting drawer. Much like my home and as with the museum displays, past and present mingled here as well.

I caught Danton’s interested in the brilliant charcoal sketch hanging on the far wall. “El Corazon de mi Alma. The Heart of my Soul. It was drawn by an engineer in the late eighteenth century in Spain, Rodolfo Chavez. He liked to dabble in his spare time.”

“Who was she?” Danton asked, referring to the woman in the sketch.

I couldn’t very well tell him it was me; he was far from ready to hear that particular truth. So I simply said, “His wife.”

“I’m not an art critic, but this is excellent. He must have loved her very deeply.” The carefully modulated tone didn’t quite hide the underlying emotion I knew Danton must be feeling when he looked at it. They were the same emotions I myself felt when I looked at it. In two hundred years the picture never failed to move me.

Unrivaled adoration was in every line that had been slashed across the page, the white spaces filled with love.

I laid a palm on Danton’s broad shoulder moved that he could read the feelings within the dark strokes and aged parchment.

“Yes he did, and she loved him just as much.”

“It’s hard to look at.” He confessed, “Even harder to turn away from.”

“True love does that to a person.”

Danton turned to face me, my palm traveling from his shoulder to cover his heart.

“How do you know? The concept is so alien to me, yet seems to come so naturally to you. The understanding and acceptance without all the doubts, it stymies me. At one time I thought I knew what it was all about. I thought my parents would be together their whole lives. When it didn’t work…”

“You were devastated.”

Danton nodded, “How can you trust something like that? Something that has the power to devastate all those involved.”

“If you can’t trust your emotions, Danton. If you can’t trust your own heart. What can you trust? Depending on whose hand it lays in, depending on how it’s used, love doesn’t just have the power to devastate; it has the power to build as well.”

“This is so new, so strange, so fast.” He hesitated.

I removed my hand to hitch the strap of my purse higher on my shoulder. Danton was right, we’d only formally met yesterday. In a normal relationship feelings wouldn’t be this strong, this overpowering. But when two hearts are destined for each other like ours were, time was inconsequential. From the second we’d met, that was all it took.

Long ago I learned that in the equation when one heart plus one heart equals true love, nothing else mattered but the freedom of choice. Danton had the right to choose whether or not he stayed. And because I loved him I was willing to let him leave, much as our mother, Riona, had.

In eleven hundred years, I was only realizing how strong she had to be. And for the first time, I was uncertain of my mate’s reaction. It scared me to death.

“It’s lunch Danton, not vows of marriage.” I said as light heartedly as I could. "We don’t have to do this. You’re free to walk away.”