Real Romance (8 page)

"Didn't know you owned a car," Marie said, sliding into his old Mazda.

He gave her a startled look and then burst out laughing. "Hey, the bicycle is mainly for work. It's close to where I live; I hate to think I'm polluting the environment just to go two blocks."

Uh-oh, Marie thought, red flag number one going up. This was Cecil talk. Not that she didn't believe in protecting the environment. It had been her, after all, who'd suggested Books & Bistro use recycled paper products. But something about the idea that David would have anything in common with Cecil Barnes made her faintly sick to her stomach.

"Glad you liked the chocolates," he said, changing the subject. "I'm a big fan myself."

Marie raised one eyebrow. A male chocoholic, now that was something. "Next you're going to tell me that you like Tater Tots, and devour potato chips by the handful."

David laughed and hung a left down the main street, leading to campus. "I am a bit of a junk food junkie," he said, looking sideways with a mischievous grin. "But please don't hold my gourmet ice cream against me."

Marie's mind painted a really naughty picture of her and a very naked David getting creative with a pint-size container on her kitchen floor.

She blinked, then leaned forward—instinctively jamming her hand under the car seat.

David pulled his car to a stop at one of the only two traffic lights in town.

"Mind telling me what you're doing?"

Marie slammed back in her seat, acutely aware of her blunder.

"Looking for rice cakes?" she said with a sheepish shrug.

David laughed so loudly that he didn't see the light change.

"Huh?"

He collapsed in hilarity again, white knuckles gripping the wheel.

"Light's green," she said, with a nudge.

"Oh, right," he said, straightening himself in his seat with another burst of laughter.

He put his car in gear, then pulled up to a nearby curb beside the
Cafe Ole Coffee Shop
.

David shut off the ignition, then turned to look at her.

"Now, why on earth would you think I'd hide rice cakes under my passenger seat?"

Marie sunk her chin below the collar of her coat.

"Wild guess?"

"That I'm a closet health nut?" David chuckled again. "No worries there, sweetheart."

"Come on," he said, scooting around the car and opening her door, "let's go in and get some coffee with plenty of white sugar. And cream."

Marie stayed, nailed to the passenger seat by his guileless eyes. What in the world had she been thinking? That he would hide an addiction to rice cakes, just as holistic Cecil had concealed his penchant for fast food?

David gave her a crooked smile and Marie's heart beat faster.

"Coming out?" he asked, his smile broadening, "or am I going to have to come in there and get you?"

Her heart beat faster still, just imagining what that might entail.

"No, it's all right," she said, composing herself. "I can manage."

David held out his hand, but she steadied herself against the car door instead and climbed out. No way was she going to touch him now. Now that her palms were slick and her cheeks hot pink.

David took her by the elbow anyway and helped her out of the car.

"Are you always this chivalrous?" she asked, "Or is it because I remind you of your grandmother?"

Marie caught a twinkle in his eye and sensed he was thinking something that she didn't care to know.

"You bring out the gentleman in me. What I can I say?"

"Ah, so you finally admit," she teased, as they crossed the sidewalk to the cafe, "that you're not always so gentlemanly."

"Guilty," he said, with a sheepish look as he held back the heavy glass door. "But I can promise you this. I've never, ever done anything a woman hasn't wanted me to do."

Marie swallowed hard and selected a table. Something about David made her believe that a woman would actually get down on her knees and beg for his manly attention.

Not her, she decided with a shake of her head. She was getting to know him, that was all. As a friend. But Marie hadn't had a male friend in—she didn't know how long. That was exactly her problem. She'd gone from one long-term relationship to the next. What she needed now was a breather, not a man who left her breathless.

"So, what would you like?"

Marie looked up into his vibrant blue eyes. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, after all.

"Coffee," she said, realizing the waitress had appeared at their table. "Coffee and an orange scone, please."

"Scone?" David asked, with feigned indignation. He leaned in with a gravelly whisper, "Not nearly enough sugar."

David turned and directed his attention to their server. "I'll take coffee, too, with double cream. And bring me one of those gigantic cinnamon buns with the icing dripping all over it."

The waitress nodded, and started to turn.

"No, wait! Make that two!"

The waitress's face was an open question.

"Cinnamon buns."

"David Lake, every one of those perfect teeth is going to rot and fall out."

"Marie, now you're sounding like my mother! Have you ever tried those things? They're wicked with a capital W."

No, Marie thought. Wicked with a capital W was sitting right in front of her. She didn't know how he could really eat like that. But David Lake didn't appear to have one surplus ounce on his entire body.

"So, David," she said, trying to get things on a more intellectual tract. "Tell me more about that book you've been reading."

But somehow, it was terribly hard to think about that boring book, with the exciting Marie McCloud sitting right across from him. She looked cute in that strappy brown jumper, pulled over a tight-fitting shirt that David wished he could see more of. Her cheeks had that gorgeous glow and her eyes fixed on him in that manner that made his head spin. David noticed her glasses sat slightly off center. Most likely thanks to that nasty dent right in the center of their bridge.

"I can still fix those glasses for you, you know."

"Huh?"

Marie brought a startled hand to the edge of her frames.

"Uh, I forgot they were... What I mean is, I can still see straight." No, that was baloney. "Fine, I mean. I can see just fine! The lenses weren't damaged at all."

"You sure about that?" he asked, reaching forward and gently lifting the glasses from her face. "Because usually when the frames get bent..."

He took the turquoise frames and turned them over and over in his hands before holding them up to the light.

"Now that
is
odd. Not a scratch on them. How did you say this happened?"

Marie blanched. "I, uh, it was the..."

"Looks almost like a child just—"

"Yes, that's it!"

She cowered, realizing her voice had risen about the buzz of the restaurant, and made an effort to speak more softly. "One of the kids at story hour—he bent my frames."

"Wow!" David said with surprise, as the waitress set down two steaming mugs. "Never realized your work was so dangerous."

Marie nervously stirred her coffee, wishing she knew what was going on behind those crystal blue eyes.

"Oh, not really so dangerous. You know kids get a little wound up at times. He didn't mean it, I'm sure."

"And the mother didn't even offer to pay to have them fixed?" David asked, dumping four packets of sugar in his cup. "I think that's awful."

"Well, what with the guarantee and all that, I figured, why make a big deal?"

David studied her as her spoon clinked repeatedly in her black cup.

"Don't you think you want to put something in there before you stir it?"

A nervous laugh caught in her throat. "I take mine black."

The waitress rescued her from further humiliation by bring their pastries.

"Well, anyway," David said, handing back her glasses, "if you want to drop by the shop later this week, I'd be happy to try to straighten those out for you—or replace them with another pair."

Marie was so flustered at the moment that all she could think of was downing her coffee and getting to work. Children's story hour? Heavens to Betsy, what had she done? Blaming some poor, innocent, imaginary little boy. When all the while it had been
her
pressing her flawless frames against the ladies' room sink counter!

"You feeling all right?" David asked, unrolling a bit of cinnamon bun and dipping it in his milky coffee.

"Fine, fine." Marie took a bite of scone, hoping she wouldn't choke. "Mmm, this is delicious."

"You sure you're okay? You look a little... hot."

Now that was the understatement of the year, David told himself. Marie McCloud always looked more than a little hot. No matter where she was, no matter what she wore, when she looked at him with those big brown eyes, she positively sizzled.

But she did look uncomfortable, sitting there going crazy with that rotating spoon. A little off balance somehow. Then she picked up her mug and drained one third of the coffee out of it before setting it back on the table.

"Well, it's true I haven't been feeling myself lately. Maybe there's something going around."

David nodded sympathetically. "Maybe you should take the day off. Grab a little R & R."

She looked over at him, and—for a brief second—seemed to be considering it.

"No, we have a staff meeting this afternoon. And I have book orders to review."

"Well, surely they'll understand if you—"

Marie stole a glance at her watch. "Oh my gosh, it's eleven-forty! David, we'd better get the check and get going."

Well, he thought, pulling out his wallet. He could never be accused of not trying.

The idea of a whole uninterrupted day with Marie McCloud tantalized David with all kinds of possibilities. He could create opportunities to get close to her and—

"Ready?" she asked, polishing off her coffee.

But, at that very moment, David feared that rising from the table would show her precisely how ready he was.

"Can you give me another minute?" he asked, stalling for time.

And then he called over the waitress and asked for a very tall, very cold glass of water.

Chapter Eight

David pulled out of the Books & Bistro parking lot, thinking things had gone exceptionally well. There had definitely been some body-talking going on between them. And, no matter how abruptly Marie had wanted to leave, David couldn't help but believe that part of the reason she'd wanted to go had to do with her growing attraction to him. He'd seen it in her eyes, sensed it in the air between them at the outdoor picnic. Even that day in the park, there'd been a spark of something mixed with an admirable ire. Boy, she was a hot one. But impossible to pin down.

No, not impossible, David told himself. Nothing was impossible right up until the point you gave up trying.

What David needed, he decided, was a new angle. That book angle he'd been working on. He was sure that's what had been holding Marie back. Idle conversation and casual picnics weren't enough for a brainy woman like her. Cecil had been absolutely right. The mind link was what David needed to establish. He knew it was a little deceptive, given his honest aversion to what he'd been reading—one of Cecil's recommendations. But, in the end, it would hardly matter. He and Marie were meant for each other. David just knew it.

The literary connection would be just the beginning. After that, he was certain they'd find other things they could talk about. Other hobbies and ideals they shared. This was just too powerful, just too earth-shaking to mean nothing but sex.

David wanted more.

Now that he'd finally finished that damned book, all he'd have to devise was a creative way to...

David signaled for a turn then let out a cry. He slammed his palm into the wheel and honked merrily at an unsuspecting passerby, as he maneuvered a quick U-turn.

Today was definitely his lucky day.

Marie closed the cover of
Too Tempted Far Words
and let out an audible sound that was half pant, half sigh. She didn't even know people had that much fun back then. But it certainly had left the heroine smiling.

"Marie?"

She looked up and realized her coffee had gone cold.

David held up one of her fleece-lined gloves.

"You left this on the seat of my car. Thought you might be wanting it later."

What Marie would be wanting later had nothing to do with putting things
on,
she realized with a jolt.

Ever since page one hundred and seventeen, every third description of this book's hero had seemed better suited to David than a sixteenth-century nobleman. Right down to his enticing... oh, never mind.