Better Than Safe (11 page)

I barely glanced at the young girl behind the counter when she began a litany of barista style questions. “Foam or no foam? Room for sugar? I’m sorry, did you say large?”

“Extra-large, light foam, nonfat milk, and no room for sugar.”

“Geez. That’s a mouthful. I’ll have a large coffee. Fill it to the top, please. I got his too.” I was too flustered to be courteous when Seth sidled up next to me standing so close I could smell his musky cologne.

I bit my lip and handed the girl my card. “That’s not necessary,” I snapped.

“Don’t be difficult, Paul,” he muttered nudging me aside.

I sighed in defeat and moved to the far end of the counter to wait for my drink. I felt trapped and frustrated. I looked around the semicrowded shop and noticed a couple of leather chairs and two empty tables in the front. Plenty of room to regroup and wait out the rain for a spell. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to be enjoying any solitude. Seth was determined, and against my better judgment, I was curious. Seth was still chatting with the girl behind the counter when I headed toward one of the window tables.

“Ahh. There you are. Mind if I sit?”

“There are other empty tables,” I snarked, then mumbled my thanks as he handed me a to-go cup.

Seth gave a short laugh and pulled out the chair across from me. “Thanks. You’re too kind.”

I closed my eyes briefly and took a sip of my latte, giving the street scene beyond the rain-streaked window my full attention.

“I have to say… I’ve been kicked out of a couple places but a museum…? That was a first!” He chuckled softly as he settled back into his chair nonchalantly, like he had nothing but time on his hands and nowhere he’d rather be.

This time I didn’t mistake his brashness as an overly familiar American trait. No. This was Seth. He was a force all his own and I was… curious. I studied his newly darkened hair and thought idly that it suited him. I hadn’t thought so initially in the artificial light in the museum, but now I had to admit it looked more natural.

I gave him a grudging huff by way of response and held eye contact. His eyes were lit with ready humor while mine were… resigned. Hell. He wasn’t going anywhere and I wasn’t going to start another scene. I was mortified by my earlier behavior. Yelling in a museum was so out of character, I could almost believe it hadn’t been me. And sitting across from me was the cause, a beautiful man with a devilish glint in his eye and a nasty bruise discoloring his high cheekbones. Seth Landau was trouble. After this latte, I was staying away.

“Why black?”

“Hair or eye?” He laughed again and sipped his coffee while I observed him. He was wearing a black sweater with a pair of form-fitted designer jeans. He looked good. Very good.

I blushed when he coughed to get my attention letting me know he was aware of my wandering gaze. I snorted derisively and refocused.

“I was referring to your hair. Why did you dye it?”

“It’s my natural color. Like it?” He smiled when I didn’t respond. “Oh, the blond guy has a thing for blonds, eh?”

“I hardly think about a man’s hair color as a basis for attraction.”

“Bullshit. Everyone has a type. Yours is probably blond, blue eyes, tall, and lean. A mirror of you. Am I right?”

“No, you’re wrong. My hair isn’t a true blond any—”

“So, you dye it?”

“No! I—God, you’re exasperating! I simply meant it’s turned darker as I’ve gotten older. That’s all.”

“Hmm. I had to go dark blond for a summer spread. You know the kind… dudes in suggestive swimwear hanging on each other at the beach while their eyes walk all over a hot chick in a bikini.”

“Eyes don’t walk over people,” I said primly.

Seth laughed, completely unfazed by my less than welcoming attitude. “I s’pose not. Well, I’m known for my dark hair and I’ve got a couple big shoots coming up so I had to take care of it. The color will settle down a bit after a week or so but in the meantime, it offsets this shiner. I’ve got a Goth thing going, ya know?”

“Mmm hmm. Courtesy of your boyfriend?” When he looked like he wanted to argue my semantics, I stopped him with an eye roll and a quick wave. “It’s funny how details like ‘you know, I have a boyfriend’ didn’t register with you as being something I might care to know before….”

“We fucked?”

I pushed away from the table, giving him a searing look I hoped said “fuck you” for me so I wouldn’t embarrass myself in another establishment. “We’re through here. Thanks for the latte. Have a—”

Seth grabbed my arm and scrambled to stand. “Hey. Stop. I’m sorry. I’ll behave. I prom—”

“Kindly remove your hand from my jumper,” I hissed.

“Come on. It’s pouring outside, you don’t have an umbrella and—just hear me out. You have every right to be angry and if you never want to see me again, I’ll understand, but let me… try to apologize. Please.”

“Again?” I crossed my arms wincing at the wet feel of cashmere. The last thing I wanted was to head back into the rain. “Fine. Make it good.”

Seth’s smile was blinding. For the first time I noticed a dimple in the middle of his left cheek. It was sexy and sweet and the fact it made my dick stir was not a good sign.

Seth pulled his lips into his mouth and stared at me earnestly. “Paul, I’m more sorry than I can say. I don’t have a boyfriend. I have an ex who won’t take no for an answer. He showed up at my studio the weekend after you and I—we got into a fight. I’m not the kind of guy to back down when things get heated. So when he pushed me… literally pushed me into a table, I pushed back. He punched me. I punched back. He kinda surprised me when he punched me in the face, though.” He gave a humorless huff and pointed at the angry bruise on his cheekbone. “I had a hard time defending myself ’cause I couldn’t fucking see.”

“Jesus. Did you call the authorities?”

“No, I wasn’t exactly innocent. I just wish he’d get the hell out of my life and stay out. Now, he feels terrible about our ‘misunderstanding.’ He calls every day to see how I am. Sends shit like expensive Italian wine and chocolate, like I’m gonna say, ‘Baby, that’s what I’ve been waiting for… an amazing Brunello and some salted dark caramels. Let’s get back together!’” Seth snorted in exasperation. “Fucker.”

“When did you break up?”

“A few months ago. January. We hadn’t been together for all that long. Maybe six months. He’s a painter… from England too, actually. He’s hot as hell but he’s volatile. That’s saying a lot coming from me,” Seth said with a humorless half chuckle. “I’m crazy enough. I can’t deal with a jealous asshole marking me like I’m his property. We fought about the same shit we broke up over.”

“Jealousy?” I prodded, interested in spite of myself.

“Yeah. He came by unannounced and had all these sexy moves. Ha. He couldn’t believe I wasn’t interested. I reminded him we were over and I told him….” He gave me a shy lopsided grin and looked away.

“What did you tell him?”

“I met someone I liked.” He gazed at the white plastic lid of his coffee cup then finally looked up at me. “Paul… I don’t know how to say I’m sorry. Again. But I am.”

“Fine. Apology accepted.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

He stared at me like I was speaking a foreign language for a moment and then he smiled. Seth Landau had a lovely smile. It began with the slightest upturn of his full lips, then his eyes sparked before it overtook his entire face. He was radiant and beautiful. But he obviously had the wrong idea if his next words were any indication.

“Thank you. It would be cool to start over. We can—”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“I said no. I’m not starting anything over with you, Seth. I accept your apology and I harbor no ill will but I’m not interested in pursuing a… liaison.”

“Liaison? Hmm. I think you’re saying no more sex. Am I right?”

“Shh!” I sat up taller in my chair and looked around the now mostly empty coffee shop.

Seth chuckled and leaned forward, whispering loudly, “Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry in the slightest so quit apologizing.”

His smile dimmed. He gave me a sheepish glance and picked up his cup as though needing something to do with his hands. “Look, I know I’ve blown it a couple times with you and the last one probably seemed really bad, but—”

“Seemed?” I snorted.

“Okay, it was. I was kind of shaken up after the fight with Simon. I’ve never gotten into a fistfight with a boyfriend or ex… ever. Cora, my agent, freaked out when she saw my face. It’s mostly faded now but it was bright purple two days later when I walked into her office. Makeup only takes care of so much and well… her reaction scared me a little. Not about how I looked, but about me. Does that make sense?”

I eyed him carefully wondering where he was going with this. “I’m not sure.”

“I hated what happened and the fact it did said something about me I didn’t like. I felt cheap. And when I heard your message… I froze. I didn’t think we’d wind up in bed together that night but it was amazing.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and looked out the window. The memory of that night was irrevocably tainted now and I didn’t want to be reminded.

“Hey. Paul.” He reached out and tilted my chin to face him. His expression was painfully earnest. “It was special. I left a city I fucking hate going back to with a big stupid smile and I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Stop. What’s done is done. I understand. At least to a degree. You were rattled by the confrontation and rendered incapable of calling or typing a bloody text message.” I held up a hand when he sputtered indignantly and furrowed his brow. “Look, I’m not interested in bending my rules of sanity to try to understand yours. I wish you well, Seth, and I’m glad we met… even though you’re responsible for me losing my temper and getting thrown out of a museum, but we have nothing in common. Let’s not waste each other’s time.”

He nodded slowly then let out a deep breath. “Harsh but fair. Fine. We can be friends. Whatdya say?”

“Friends?” I asked incredulously.

“Sure. We’ve run into each other on a train and at a museum in the last couple weeks. It would be cool to have a friendly conversation about… I don’t know, jazz or Chaucer or whatev—”

“Right. Well the next time we bump into each other, we’ll see.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Seth’s eyes twinkled with humor. He nudged my foot under the table and smiled mischievously. “I have an idea.”

“No.”

Seth chuckled merrily, purposefully ignoring me. “Let’s bust into another Smithsonian Institute museum and see how fast it takes for you to get us thrown out this time. Which one? Air and Space or….” He snapped his fingers and smacked the table decisively. “The Natural History Museum. I fuckin’ love that place. Tyrannosaurus Rex, Pterodactyls….”

Unbelievably, I laughed and somehow felt the anger and disappointment of the past couple of weeks fall away. So he hadn’t turned out to be special. He and I would never be more than friends, but he was charming. I was beginning to think our age difference had something to do with it. I was thirty-five, a little set in my ways and he was—

“How old are you?”

It was Seth’s turn to laugh. Once he managed to compose himself, he rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “How old do you think I am?”

“Aaron said he thought you were twenty-seven.”

“I’m twenty-four.”

No wonder, I thought. Maturity was certainly a major factor here. I’d never, repeat
never
dated someone eleven years my junior. I didn’t have the patience and while I had money in the bank, I was certainly no one’s idea of sugar daddy material. We were doomed from that first awful coffee date. I wasn’t sure why eight years didn’t bother me while eleven seemed too big an obstacle, but it did.

“Hmm.”

“Too young, huh?”

“For me, yes, but—”

“Okay, then friends it is! The Natural History Museum is practically next door to the National Gallery. C’mon, I’ll even share my umbrella so your jumper doesn’t get soaked,” he teased with a wink, drawing out the word jumper.

I cocked my head to the right and studied his earnest expression, looking for warning signs. But nothing flashed, no sirens blared. I glanced at my watch and thought,
why not?
Now that I knew my heart would remain intact, I had nothing to lose and a whole Saturday to kill.

“All right. Let’s go.”

T
HE
RAIN
had eased into a drizzle. We could have gone without the umbrella but I didn’t argue when Seth popped it open and offered shelter with a wry grin. We made small talk along the way about anything from the state of my leather shoes and damp clothing to his hair. I couldn’t stop looking at him and I was sure it was the darker color that threw me.

“I never would have guessed your hair is naturally raven,” I said stepping around a puddle on the sidewalk.

“It’s not raven. It’s a really dark brown but… yeah.” He gave me a flippant grin as he adjusted his hold on the umbrella.

“It suits you, but I have to say you look very different. More like—what nationality are you?”

“French, English, and Native American.”

“That’s it! Native American.”

“Iroquois on my mom’s side,” he claimed with a proud grin. “I’m guessing you’re one hundred percent British.”

“Good guess.” I didn’t want to talk about my lineage, however, I wanted to hear about him. “Do you belong to a tribe? How does it work?”

“Huh? No. I mean, I think my mom had a card that certified how much Iroquois blood she has because supposedly the government now feels kinda bad they raped our people, pillaged our settlements, and kicked us out of our homeland. I never had one, but maybe I would have if things had gone down differently with my family.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant at first but once I did, I was instantly uncomfortable. I didn’t want to delve into any dark discussion with someone I’d only just let back in my good graces.

But something… perhaps his proximity, the way his upper arm brushed against mine or the scent of his cologne mixed with a faint smell of tobacco… made me ask, “What happened with your family?”