Coffee in Common (3 page)

"And I'm still a little embarrassed, but happy to meet you, too. I hope I didn't destroy anything really important."

Paul picked up one of the wet sheets of paper.

"No, don't worry about it. It's just the only copy of a recently discovered manuscript by Ernest Hemingway. It'll dry." He paused, looking worried. "I hope."

Jillian's wide-eyed stare vanished when she saw him grin again.

"Jerk. I almost believed you for a second."

"Sorry. I couldn't resist. How long do you have for lunch?"

"I should be back by one."

Paul nodded slightly. "Me too." He paused for a deep breath. "You know, I probably shouldn't ever bring this up again, but I really am sorry I was so clumsy this morning about meeting you. I'm usually a fairly articulate guy."

"That's okay. You were nervous. Nervous can be kind of cute. And let's be honest here, your clumsy this morning doesn't come close to my clumsy a few minutes ago."

"Okay then, we're even. I hope you won't mind me saying this so soon, but you are the second most beautiful woman I've ever seen in person."

Jillian blushed, pleased and flattered by the compliment.

"Come on, I know I'm not a beast, but the second…"

"No, really. You are definitely the second most beautiful woman I've ever met.

Her blush deepened.

"Okay, but just the second? Who's the first?"

Paul looked right into her shining, beautiful brown eyes and said. "Everyone else."

Stunned at the unexpected reply, Jillian stared at him for a second before she burst out laughing.

"You really are a jerk. I owe you big time for that."

Looking pleased and a little relieved, Paul glanced up to thank God she was laughing.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't stop myself. And I figured that if I'm on trial, I might as well let you see who I really am. If you hadn't laughed just then, well, I'd have been heartbroken, but I'd have known we'd never really get along."

"What do you mean 'on trial'?"

"Didn't you come here to decide whether you liked me enough to give me your number and try me out on a real date?"

Jillian looked as if she were about to protest, but Paul continued on.

"That's okay. That's what you should be doing when a strange guy embarrasses himself on the street. I mean, anyone can act like a fool for a few minutes in order to charm a beautiful girl, but it takes a special kind of guy to sustain it for a whole lunch. And you don't strike me as the type of girl who would waste much time on that kind of guy."

"And how
do
I strike you?"

"Right through the heart, so far."

Jillian's blush had faded, but rose anew at this latest compliment. Desperate to change the subject, she nodded toward the three cups.

"Are these all for me?"

"Yes."

"
Three
coffees?"

"Well, I didn't know how you liked your coffee, but I figured one of the three you bought this morning had to be for you, so I talked to Akina and…"

"Akina?"

"The barista who waited on you this morning."

"You're on a first name basis with the people here?"

"Not really, just Akina, and only since noon when I got here. I took a chance she might remember you, which she did, since you come in all the time with the same order. Or so she said. So I asked her for the same three coffees and here they are."

Pointing to them one-by-one, he said, "Decaf regular, black two sugars, and milk dark no sugar."

Jillian started to reach for one but Paul stopped her. "Wait. Let me guess."

He studied her for a few seconds, then picked up the milk-dark-no sugar and handed it to her with a hopeful look on his face.

"I'm impressed. How did you know?"

"I didn't. I guessed. Or rather, I hoped."

"Hoped?"

"Uh-huh. That's how I take mine."

Her disbelief was unmistakable.

"Really! I told you this morning I had a strange feeling when I first saw you. It was like I knew you, even though I didn't know you. It…but this is all getting a little too heavy."

Paul picked up his empty cup. "How about sharing some of that coffee?"

Jillian poured half of the coffee from her cup into his, then handed it back.

"I don't think it's hot anymore," she said.

"That's okay. I'm used to cold coffee. Besides, just looking at you will keep me warm."

"Oh
please
," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Paul laughed. "Okay, I guess I
am
laying it on a little thick." He checked his watch and realized time was getting short. "As much as I'd like to sit here with you all afternoon, we only have about twenty-five minutes left before you have to decide and all you know about me is how I like my coffee, that I can act goofy, and that I have a strange sense of humor."

He locked eyes with her, his gaze never wavering as he continued.

"So fire away. Ask me anything you want to know. Job, school, shoe size, favorite Backstreet Boy. Anything. Because when I walk out that door in a little while…" He reached across the table to move a tuft of hair away from her eye. The touch of his finger against her skin sent another spark through her, a warm, welcome spark. "…I'll either have your phone number, or a huge hole where my heart used to be."

6:20 PM

Jillian closed the door to her apartment, dropped her keys in her purse, shrugged off her coat, and hung both on the wooden pegs on the wall next to the door. The scarf she held up, smiling with the memory of the chaos it caused.

It had been a long, eventful day both in and out of work, but she was still full of energy. Happy and excited her lunch with Paul had gone so well after its disastrous beginning, she was dying to tell her friends all the details. But it was still too early. Neither Liz nor Jenna would be home from work for at least fifteen minutes.

The golden glow of the afternoon sun streamed through the four oversized, Victorian-era double-hung wood sash windows that formed a bay overlooking the street. It cast curious shadows in the two alcoves, one that held her bed, nightstand, and dresser, and the other, an efficiency kitchen.

She took the big feather duster from the umbrella stand by the door and moved around the room dusting the photos, prints, and posters that brightened the room and, even on a gloomy day, made visitors feel welcome. Then she fixed the pillows on the floral print sofa and two overstuffed chairs that reminded her of the wallpaper in her room as a child, all the while, thinking of him.

Suddenly in the mood for music, she loaded her special mix CD into the player.

The sweet sound of Luther Vandross filled the apartment. Her eyelids drooped, half closed as she conjured an image of Paul smiling at her the way he did when he was holding the chair for her, urging her to stay. Something about him, even the thought of him, made her feel strangely comfortable. He'd been so nice, so easy to talk to once she was past the humiliation of spilling coffee on his work.

She grinned, remembering the exasperation on his face as he tried to sop up half a cup of coffee with a few small napkins. Then her face softened, almost glowed, as she remembered the light in his eyes when he'd moved that wisp of hair and said those sweet things.

Lost in her fantasy, she ambled to the windows to close the curtains, flopped on the sofa, then almost immediately jumped up and headed for the kitchen where she grabbed a bottle from the fridge. Sipping the water, still swaying with the music, she strolled to the bedroom alcove and sat on the edge of the bed, recalling yet again the events of the day. The last strains of the song faded and were replaced by another Vandross standard,
Here & Now
. She giggled out loud at the memory of how goofy and desperate he'd been when they first met, but was startled out of her reverie by the shrill ring of the phone.

Hoping it would be him, but knowing it was probably some telemarketer, she screwed the cap back on the bottle and rolled backward over the bed to grab the cordless phone on the nightstand.

"Hello?"

"You forgot to take your cell phone off silent again. It's a wonder you have any friends at all since you make it so hard for people to reach you."

"Hi, Liz." She tried to keep her excitement out of her voice. "You're home early!"

"Jenna and I both got out early. I just talked with her. We were thinking about Piazolla's for dinner tonight. Lucy from work said she was there twice last week and there were lots of mighty fine guys hanging and…"

Unable to contain herself, Jillian blurted out, "Liz, stop. I have to tell you something. You won't believe what happened to me today."

Elizabeth could hear the particular excitement in her friend's voice and knew only one thing could have put it there.

"Don't even tell me his name. I promised Jenna I'd pick her up in ten minutes and if you start talking now she'll be waiting on me for an hour. We'll be over as fast as we can get through traffic. And forget about Piazolla's tonight."

"Okay, okay. But you and Jenna hurry. And bring Thai."

7:10 PM

DHL sat on the corner of Charles and Chestnut Streets, two blocks north of the Boston Common. Named for the writer D.H. Lawrence when it first opened three decades ago, it had quickly become a trendy, English-pub-style watering hole. Today, it attracted a loyal clientele who were more interested in a relaxed atmosphere than being seen in the vicinity of whomever happened to be hot at the moment.

Paul and Rob liked DHL because it was never so crowded or loud you couldn't carry on a conversation. That the place offered thirty-six beers and ales on tap, with another three dozen in bottles didn't hurt much either.

"Your favorite Backstreet Boy? You didn't really say that?" Rob's incredulous stare conveyed more than his words.

Paul surveyed the long mahogany and brass bar that ran along the left wall and the lacquered pine tables surrounded by wood chairs comfortably padded with dark, leather cushions that filled most of the rest of the space. "I swear. It just came out. And I can't figure out why. I never even liked the Backstreet Boys." He shook his head. "But it didn't matter. We hit it off, man. We really hit it off. She was so uptight and embarrassed after spilling my coffee but then she just seemed to relax. And after that, there were no games, no posturing. We were just talking and laughing. Really connecting."

Rob screwed his face into a grimace. "Geez, man, you realize you're starting to sound like a girl."

"Up yours. Are you telling me you and Lisa never talked about stuff?" He knew Rob had suggested drinks for a reason and figured it was time to start the poking and prodding.

In response to silence, Paul said, "Look, buddy. I really didn't want to come here tonight. I wanted to head home and call Jillian. If you hadn't practically begged me…you know?"

Rob sighed. "Well, yah, of course. We talked about movies, and food, and sex, and things to do. Stuff like that."

"Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she wanted to talk about more than that. Feelings and stuff. Chick stuff, you know?"

Rob stared into space for a few seconds then sighed, nodding slightly. "Yah, maybe."

"So what's going on there?"

"Same as yesterday. Same as last week. We're on a break. She wanted a break to think about us."

He paused for a few seconds, again shaking his head. "What's there to think about? We go out, we have fun, the sex is great." He grimaced. "It's her friends, I know it's her friends. They don't like me much. They think I'm a troll."

Caught off-guard, Paul almost choked on his beer as he tried hard not to laugh. "A troll?"

"They don't think I'm handsome enough for her. They want her to find some guy who's more in her league. I'm too ordinary for them, which would be okay if I had lots of money, but I don't. I guess I embarrass them. When all the beautiful folk get together they don't want to have to look at commoners."

"Come on, Rob. Lisa is
not
that shallow. She…"

"I know, I know. But her friends are. And they're at her all the time about me."

"How do you know? You've heard them?"

Rob fidgeted with discomfort. "Two months ago we were at a party. It was a benefit thing for some beavers or possums or something like that. Anyway, I'm standing at the bar waiting for our drinks. Lisa's off with some museum people she knows. These two girls come up behind me talking."

*  *  *

"So how long has she been seeing him?" Kiki asked.

"Like, a couple of months," her friend Rachel replied. "I can't believe you didn't hear."

"How would I hear? Four months I'm in Paris and did anyone call me?
You
didn't call me."

"Yes I did. Two weeks after you left. You said you were having
très
much fun and met this guy François, and just
didn't
have time to talk because he was waiting for you in the lobby and…"

"Oh…well…yes, now I remember. Well…"

"I decided you'd call if you got lonely. Not that I could imagine you
getting
lonely in a country full of hot guys."

"Girl, you can not imagine. But that's for another day. So you say she's been seeing him for two months?"

Rachel nodded. "Two or three."

"But why? Does he have this enormous package or something? Or is he, like, really rich? He certainly doesn't dress it if he is."

"I don't know about his package, but he can't have much money. Nobody ever heard of him." She shrugged. "None of us can figure it out."

"Has anyone asked her?"

Rachel didn't even try to hide her disdain. "Of course," she said, then added in a mocking tone, "She said he treats her nice and makes her laugh."

"And that's supposed to make up for his looking like a truck driver? What
is
Lisa thinking?"