Now & Forever 3 - Blind love (11 page)

The new clothes took ten years off Pat’s appearance. Without
the oxford shirts, sensible bras and navy blue skirts, Pat became alluring. A
new hairstyle completed the transformation. Eliza and Callie guaranteed Sam
would notice.

When she opened the door wearing her low cut, layered tank
tops in shades of green showcasing plenty of cleavage and her tight-fitting,
hip-hugging jeans emphasizing her slim hips and legs, Sam was momentarily
speechless.

“Patsy, you look beautiful and so…sexy,” he said, dropping
his voice an octave on the last word.

Pat blushed and smiled. The new clothes made her feel sexier
too. The lacy underwear was like having a sexy secret. When she reached for
something, a little bit of the lace from her bra peeked out.

“Callie and Eliza took me in hand and brought my wardrobe up
to date.”

“You’re absolutely irresistible,” Sam said, stepping inside
and immediately taking her into his arms for a long kiss. Pat enjoyed his
attention, relaxing in his arms and opening her lips to his kiss. His hands
wandered down to her bottom and gave it a squeeze. She was a little shocked,
but she laughed.

“I couldn’t resist, it’s so cute,” Sam said, releasing her.

“Maybe we should get to the movie.”

“Good idea, before I lose my head completely.”

Pat shot him a flirtatious smile and brought in a bowl of
popcorn. She popped the movie in and handed the remote control to Sam.

After she doused the lights, Sam took her hand and turned on
the movie. She offered him the ottoman for his feet while she tucked hers under
her bottom and cuddled up to him, putting her head on his shoulder. Sam put his
arm around her and pulled her in close.

Dinner was spent talking mostly about the movie. Pat set up a
table on the deck with candles where she served her best meatloaf recipe. Sam
complimented her on the meal and couldn’t take his eyes off her, especially the
neckline of her top. She noticed him staring and chuckled to herself about how
much men stay the same, no matter how old they are. During dessert Pat probed
for more information about him.

“What did you teach in South Africa?” she asked him.

“Ornithology.” He sipped coffee from a beige and brown mug.

“Do you have a doctorate?”

“In biology. I’ve been lucky enough to collaborate on some
books about the birds of Africa. I was also fortunate to get some freelance
assignments over the summers and holidays traveling to different zoos and game
preserves to study and write about birds. I find birds fascinating.”

“You’re a doctor too, medical or PhD?”

“PhD but I don’t use it much, especially now I’m not
teaching. It wasn’t as hard to get as your doctorate.”

“I don’t know much about birds, but I think they are
beautiful.”

“Maybe you’d like to come birding with me one morning.”

“I’d love to.”

“Don’t be too hasty, we’d leave the house at five thirty in
the morning.”

“That early?”

“Of course, it’s less of a problem if you spent the night
with me,” Sam said, his eyes twinkling, his eyebrows raised.

“We’ll see,” she replied, giving him a shy smile.

“At least you haven’t ruled it out,” Sam said. He spooned
some of the apple concoction Pat baked into his mouth, rolling it around on his
tongue, savoring the flavor.

Pat laughed. Cuddling with him was fun and sexy; she began to
think of making love with him as more of a
when
than an
if
.

Sam helped to clear the table and started the dishes.

“In our house we have a rule, if you cook, you don’t do the
dishes,” he said.

Pat felt funny having Sam wash dishes in her house, but he
insisted. So she cleared the table, put a bowl of mints out and cued up the
next movie. Once they were settled on the couch, Sam pulled her close to him,
his arm around her. She put her arm around his middle and cuddled into him. He
kissed the top of her head and they watched Cary Grant win Katharine Hepburn
again.

When the movie was over, Sam leaned over and kissed Pat,
teasing her tongue with his. She sighed and melted in his arms. He moved his
lips to her cheek and down her neck and chest to her breast, causing a tingle
to go up her spine. He kissed the top of one breast peeking out of the tank top
and moved his hand up underneath to cradle it. Pat sighed. His touch was light
and gentle. Then he sat up.

“I’m sorry, but you are too irresistible tonight, especially
wearing that shirt…”

“Tank top.”

“Whatever you call it. It’s calling to me. I should go home.”
Sam stood up, his hands returning to his sides.

Pat couldn’t hide her disappointment. She didn’t know if she
was ready to make love with Sam, but she didn’t want him to go home either.

“I don’t want to begin something you may decide later you
don’t want to do. I’m getting tangled up here,” Sam said, embarrassed.

“I understand. You’re perfectly clear and you’re right. I
have to make up my mind and sooner rather than later,” she said, rising to
stand next to him.

“I’m glad you understand. I like you, Patsy, I enjoy your
company…we have so much in common. But to be completely frank, I’m not
interested in being only friends with you,” he said.

“I appreciate your honesty, Sam, and its fine…I don’t want to
be only friends, either,” she admitted, “I’m almost ready for a more romantic
relationship.”

Sam smiled at her with affection and desire in his eyes and
took her hand.

“I’m glad.”

He leaned over and kissed her warmly.

“It’s time to go,” he said, moving toward the front door.

Before long, he was home, undressing for bed in his room and
planning where to take her and what to do on a fourth date when the phone rang.

“Sam, it’s me, Patsy.”

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, I know it’s late, but I thought
maybe you’d like to come to a crafts fair with me next Saturday and then come
back here and we could make dinner together,” she said.

“Sounds great. What time?”

“The fair starts at noon, can you pick me up about one
o’clock?”

“See you then.”

“Goodnight.”

“Sleep tight, pretty lady,” Sam said and hung up the phone.
Maybe next weekend, I’ll get lucky. Cripes,
I sound like Peter!

Chapter Seven

Lara was uncomfortable taking so much from Sam and not giving
anything back. She felt useless and depressed. Sam invited her for breakfast
and taught her how to make toast, coffee and frozen waffles in his kitchen.
Lara decided she could pay Sam back by making breakfast for him. Besides, it’d
be good training for her and make her more independent.

Sam neglected to tell Peter about this arrangement. But one
morning, Peter arose early and wandered into the kitchen looking for food,
surprised to see Lara washing dishes. The running water prevented her from
hearing him. She didn’t expect him either so when she turned around she ran
smack into him. Peter was only wearing boxers. Lara gasped as her hands came up
against his bare chest.

“It’s me,” Peter said quickly.

“Oh!” She froze.

Peter put his arms around her and held her loosely, afraid to
frighten her. She moved her hands up through his chest hair, feeling his
muscles for a moment, drinking in his male scent sweetened with the aroma of
sleep before she regained her senses and moved away. Flustered, she turned
toward the counter, her hands searching for more dirty dishes.

“Why are you up so early?”

“The smell of toast seduced me.” He watched her for a
response.

“Seduced your stomach, maybe,” she said, smiling.

“Right, right.”

“I’m making breakfast this morning. I can do toast, cereal,
coffee and frozen waffles. What’s your pleasure?”

“Do you want an honest answer?” he asked, bending over to
whisper in her ear.

She felt heat rise in her cheeks at his suggestion and moved
away from him.

“Can I have coffee and toast?”

“Toast and coffee, coming up.”

He sat down at the table while Lara concentrated on the task
at hand. She carefully picked up the pot of coffee and stuck her finger just
inside the rim at the top of the cup. When the coffee reached the tip of her
finger, she stopped pouring.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to have coffee I’ve touched. It’s the
only way I can pour a cup without overflowing it.”

“The touch of your hand is most welcome.”

“Peter!”

“Oh, sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

“I’ll bet. Want butter, jam or both on your toast?”

“The works, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all.” Lara busied herself moving back and
forth between the jar of jam and the butter dish.

She put the food and drinks on the table.

“This looks delicious,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

Lara threw the dish towel over her shoulder, leaned back
against the kitchen counter and smiled.

“I’m going to be making breakfast for Sam every morning. I
hope soon to do eggs…a real challenge.”

“You can handle it. You’ll be here every morning?”

She nodded.

“Gives me a reason to get up early,” he said.

The sudden clatter of dish against dish alerted Lara to
Peter’s attempt to clear the table.

“I’ll take those,” Lara said, colliding with him again as she
went for the table and he for the sink.

This time he grabbed her to keep her from falling and pulled
her close to him. Her hands came up against him again. This time she rested her
cheek on his chest, only for a moment, while his fingers played with the ends
of her hair.

“Lara…” he murmured, closing his eyes and kissing the top of
her head.

She pushed off from him and stood back, gripping the counter
to steady herself.

“Don’t you like touching me?” he asked.

“I like it…too much,” she replied, “Give me your dishes.”

“We have a rule, he who cooks doesn’t do dishes. I’ll do
them.”

“But I can do them,” she said, her voice a little shaky.

“I’m sure but a rule is a rule.”

“I’ve got to go,” she said, lingering by the doorway, her
hands smoothing her hair.

“Library day, today?”

She nodded.

“Do you want a lift?” He turned on the water in the sink.

“Please…are you going to your office?”

“I have some slides to view. I’ll be about two hours. Should
I pick you up then?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Can I take you out to lunch?” Peter put the last of the
washed dishes in the drainer to dry and turned toward Lara.

“That isn’t necessary.” She stepped back two steps.

“I’d like to. We could go to the new lakeside restaurant.”

“A date?”

“Maybe,” he said, rinsing off another small plate.

“Friends can go to lunch…” She cast her gaze to the floor
while her fingers plucked at the trim on her T-shirt.

“Of course.”

Lara smiled and made her way out of the kitchen and across
the lawn to her uncle’s house while Peter turned on the shower in the bathroom.

* * * *

Peter tried not to be depressed about Lara’s rejection,
hoping time would change her mind. He understood why she was afraid, but he
became more and more convinced she was the one for him. He needed advice.

“Want a beer, Dad?”

“Sure.” Sam stood at the kitchen counter, chopping garlic.

Peter opened two beers, handed one to Sam and sat down at the
kitchen table while Sam turned on the stove.

“Something on your mind, son?”

“Lara.”

“I’m not surprised.” Sam threw the garlic in the pan then
opened a package of chopped meat.

“I want to be her friend, but I want more too.”

“Be patient. She likes you…a lot. Give her some breathing
room.”

“Patience isn’t my strong suit.” Peter snapped the ends off
of green beans.

“If you love her, you’ll wait until the time is right.”

“Do you think I have a chance?”

“Of course, or I’d tell you to give it up. I see the way she
is around you.”

“Yeah?”

“Seems to be a trust thing. How trustworthy are you? She
isn’t going to be another fling for you, is she?”

“She’s different.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that. Spend as much time as you can
with her, but don’t rush her into bed.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Sam laughed.

* * * *

The next morning, Lara was there to fix breakfast as usual.

“Visitors last night, Peter?” she asked, as he sat down at
the table.

“Not exactly.” Peter crossed and uncrossed his legs

“I thought I heard feminine laughter from here.” She grabbed
the coffee pot.

“My teaching assistant stopped by. We were going over some
slides,” he said, taking a bite of his buttered toast.

“At night? In your home? Alone?” she asked, a tinge of
jealousy in her voice.

“What do you care what I do? We’re only friends, remember?”

“You’re sleeping with other women?” She stopped buttering the
toast.

“You didn’t sleep with your teaching assistant, did you?” Sam
asked.

“None of your business, either of you. You only want to be
friends, so I can sleep with anyone I want.”

“Time for me to go,” she said, in a tight voice, moving
toward the living room.

Peter grabbed her arm.

“Wait. Can we talk?”

Sam got up and, with a sigh of disgust, went into his room.

She sat down again, facing away from him.

“Isn’t there something, some middle ground between only
friends and sleeping together? Can’t we maybe date or something?” Peter asked,
placing his hands on her shoulders.