Take Me I'm Yours (Coffee House Chronicles) (8 page)

What she had imagined was nothing more than a daydream.
She had somehow pictured they would laugh and talk and he would twist a lock of her hair around his finger. She could smell his faint cologne lingering on his skin as he leaned toward her.

“I’m impressed,” he said, snapping her out of her fantasy.

“Don’t be. It really wasn’t all that hard.”
Thanks to Delilah.
She nervously twisted the napkin around her hand in her lap. She wanted to get off the subject of her cooking as soon as possible. “So what types of web sites do you design? Anything I’ve heard of?”

He cleare
d his throat. “I doubt it. They’re all small companies. It’s good money but not very fulfilling.”

Was it her imagination or did he look uncomfortable talking about his work? She pressed on.
“Why’s that?”

“I’m looking to branch out some. Do something a little different.”

“In the same field?”

“I’m working on a deal that could open some doors for me,” he said
.

His answer seemed vague and maybe he meant it that way. She had no idea the
web design world was so confidential. She shrugged it off as she finished dinner. She wasn’t sure what more they could talk about since he didn’t want to talk about work and her work was downright boring.

“How about you? Still working the gym?”

“Yes, I am. Though it’s not very exciting.” As a personal trainer, her job fulfillment was seeing her clients achieve their goals and lose weight. But she really wanted to become a physical therapist. She gave up school because Ethan wanted her to.

“But you’re helping people, right?”

“Sure. I help them lose weight and eat right. I make them have accountability.”

“It’s not what you want to do, though.”

It was like he could read her mind. She nodded, reaching for her glass. “You’re right.”

“So what do you want to do?”

“This sounds crazy but I’ve always wanted to be a physical therapist.”

“Why would that sound crazy? I think it’s wonderful.”

She shrugged. “Ethan didn’t want me to finish school.”

He pursed his lips and she could tell he bit off
a retort. “You know what I think? I think you can be and do anything you want.”

“Th
at’s what my mother always says.”

“She’s right. Moms know best.” He winked. “Seriously, why don’t you go back and finish?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m too old now.”

“You’re never too old for school. And if it’s something you want, then you should go for it. Right?”

“Maybe.” She smiled slowly, appreciating his enthusiasm and encouragement. “I’ll think about it.”

“You should. Have you thought about night school? Then when you get your license, I’ll volunteer to be your guinea pig.” He grinned broadly and she laughed
.

“Oh, Graeme. I’ve missed laughing with you.” Their eyes collided for a long moment until she finally cleared her throat.
“Well, I think I’ll just clear these plates.”

Marion dropped her napkin on the table and reached for his plate. He grasped her wrist then, something
for which she was completely unprepared. His hand was so warm, so soft against her skin she never wanted him to let go. She looked down, watching the way his fingers wrapped around her wrist holding her. Not pressing into her, not malicious at all. Just touching and being touched.

“If you want, I could go with you to look into classes.” He suggested it so casually, it was hard to resist.

And then his thumb brushed over her wrist in a gentle sweeping motion, her skin igniting with fire in his wake. Her gaze drifted from his hand to his eyes which were so pale blue she could easily get lost in them. She had to remind herself they were
just friends
and pulled her wrist away.

Realiz
ing what he did, he dropped his hand to his lap.

“I’ll think about it,” she promised
.

As she collected plates, he picked up
the empty wine glasses and followed her into the kitchen.

“You know what I think we need now?”

She placed the plates in the sink and ran water over them. “What’s that?”

“Dessert.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” She pressed her hand against her full belly. “I’m stuffed.”

“Me
too. But after a meal like that, it wouldn’t be right not to top it off with something sweet and delicious.” His eyes drifted to her lips before meeting hers again. “And I have just the place in mind.” There was a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

“Is that so?”

“Yep. Come on, Marion. What do you say?” His mouth quirked in an inviting smile.

“With an invitation like that, how could I refuse?”

As they headed out the door, Marion couldn’t help but wonder if he was an ice cream man. Or maybe his idea of dessert was going back to his place and slathering her with whip cream.

The thought sent heat rushing through her body and pooling between her legs. What a delicious naughty thought. And what she wouldn’t give to have that actually happen.

*
* * * *

A short car ride later, Graeme parked at a meter in front of the Bitter End Coffee House. Downtown at night was never really her thing and she certainly wasn’t too keen on having coffee so late in the evening. Plus her ploy of having him a lone had been afraid. Not that she intended to do anything with him. She turned into a big chicken. A big pathetic chicken. And she admitted she was disappointed dessert didn’t involve their naked bodies and a can of Reddi-Whip.

The setting
sun cast a late afternoon glow on the streets and shadowed the walkways. There was something romantic about their surroundings, even though she kept telling herself there was absolutely nothing romantic about her relationship with Graeme.

“But, Graeme…I can’t drink coffee this late in the evening.”

“Not to worry,” he said. “They have plenty of other things to sample. And the pastries are to die for.”

Inside, the heady aroma of coffee filled the air. The coffee house at night was a completely different crowd than the early birds that frequented the place in the morning. On the small stage in the corner, a local folk band played
unfamiliar tunes but were still catchy enough to make her want to tap her toe.

A lady waved to Graeme from behind the counter and greeted him with a smile. She was probably in her late forties with dark wavy hair and striking green eyes
.

“Graeme, it’s great to see you here.” She came around the counter to greet him by kissing him on the cheek. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I came in this morning,” Graeme said. “Jody, this is my good friend Marion Parker. Marion, Jody Sawyer. She’s the owner of the Bitter End.”

“It’s great to meet you,” Marion said, extending her hand
.

As Jody shook her hand, she said, “What can I get you two?”

“A slice of your finest cheesecake, a latte for me and for you, Marion?”

Marion examined the menu above the counter, trying to decide on something without so much caffeine. “Um…maybe some tea.”

“How about Earl Grey?” Jody suggested. “With cream and sugar or honey and lemon?”

“Early Grey is great and I’ll take it with cream.”

“Nice choice,” Graeme whispered.

Minutes later, they settled into a cozy corner into a couple of leather chairs,
sipping their drinks and sharing the cheesecake. Marion had never tasted anything so divine. Creamy and light, the raspberry puree gave it an irresistible punch. She licked her fork clean and leaned back into the chair, satisfied.

“I told you it was good,” Graeme said, grinning at her over his paper cup.

“You were right. Now I’m really stuffed.” She stretched her legs out in front of her and rested her hands on her stomach.

“After the band plays, maybe we can talk a walk through downtown,” he suggested.

“Sure.” This evening of catching up sure seemed as though it was turning into a date.

The band was loud enough to enjoy but not
so loud so they couldn’t carry on a conversation. When they finished their set to a round of applause, they took a break.

“They’re not bad,” Graeme said, nodding to the musicians
.

“I had no idea you liked this kind of music.”

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know.” He winked, smiling and bringing out the devilish dimples.

Was that an invitation to get to know him better? Unsure, Marion sipped her tea
.

“Hi, Graeme.”

Suddenly all thoughts were ripped from her mind at the sound of the flirty, sing-song female voice. Glancing up, the beautiful young girl stood behind him. She couldn’t be more than twenty, if a day. She wore tight jeans and an even tighter shirt that hugged her voluptuous curves and showed ample cleavage. She spun a lock of shimmering sunny blonde hair around her forefinger. Marion hated her on sight.

Graeme
twisted in his chair to see who greeted him so sweetly. “Jessica, hey.”

He made no move to get up or greet her warmly.
In fact, he sounded downright annoyed she had interrupted them.
Good
. He took a sip of his coffee, ignoring her forlorn look.

“I hope it’s okay I came over to say hi,” Jessica said.

“Sure.” He propped his ankle on his knee, completely nonchalant.

“I’m Marion.” She reached over
him to extend her hand.

Jessica gave her a wet noddle handshake
. “Hey.” It was the only response Marion got since she turned her batting eyelashes back to Graeme. “My friends and I wondered if you wanted to come with us to the Library. We’re going to shoot some pool and stuff.”

The
new hot spot in downtown—the Library—wasn’t the kind with books and dusty shelves. It was the kind with faux bookshelves, a bar and a lot of pool tables. Not a lot of studying going on there, for sure. It was the happening place since the local college crowd frequented it.

“Sorry,
I can’t,” Graeme said, sounding much nicer than he probably should have. He nodded toward Marion. “I’m already with someone.”

Marion smiled when she
saw the look of defeat on Jessica’s face.

“
Oh, okay. Well, call me sometime?”

Graeme gave her a
curt nod and a half-hearted wave then busied himself with his latte. Under his breath, he uttered
not
and Marion stifled a chuckle. Thank goodness he wasn’t interested.

Jessica
retreated back to her huddling girlfriends where she whispered something to them and four pairs of eyes pinned Marion.

“What’s the Library?” Marion asked
, pretending not to know.

“It’s
a new bar in downtown with pool tables, darts, things like that. We can go sometime if you want.”

“Where do you know her from?”
Marion kept an eye on her over the rim of her cup.

“Oh…just around.”
He ran a finger around the rim of his cup, avoiding her gaze.

“Right.”
Was he kidding her? Did he think she was stupid?

He glanced her way as she reached for her purse and fumbled inside it for her compact. She had to do something to keep her hands busy and her mouth from babbling.
She understood he had girlfriends before her, but she didn’t want to actually put a face and body to one.

“Marion, she’s a nobody.
Like I said, I’m a regular here and I meet a lot of people.” He reached for her, placing a warm hand on her arm and forcing her to make eye contact. He sounded sincere and the look in his face told her he really was.

Despite that, she couldn’t help but think how many girls he knew. How many came up to him like that.
Did it really matter? He was here with
her
after all. Not the Jessicas of the world. And he didn’t seem interested. No need to get the claws out. Yet.

She grinned, giving him a nod.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked.

The unexpected question made her freeze, her heart sputtering in her chest. “
Sunday?”

“
Yes, tomorrow. Sunday. You mentioned you were taking painting classes, so I thought maybe we could visit the Kimbell or something.”

She loved the Kimbell, walking through the galleries and seeing all the lovely paintings.
“Together?”

He chuckled. “Yes, together.”

She knew without a doubt what her answer would be. “I would love that.”

“Then
it’s settled. I’ll pick you up tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yes, please.” She couldn’t help but grin.