We Will Always Have the Closet (3 page)

The restaurant he took her to oozed charm and romance. A tiny little Greek place, sprinkled with bistro tables for two, with candles and flowers on every table, and a wandering violinist playing beautiful exotic tunes. Oh, so much harm could come of this after all. Shivering more from excitement and panic than from the cold, Petra sat down on the chair Sam gallantly pulled out for her and decided to enjoy it all. “Why Greek?” she asked.

“I love Greek food,” he replied, sitting across from her. The table was so small his legs touched hers underneath it. There was no avoiding it. “Besides, judging from your name, you are from a Greek family, correct?”

Smooth
. “Yes, my father was Greek,” she responded. “But my mom had Italian roots. What about you?”

His face brightened at her question, obviously pleased she was showing an interest in him. “Just your garden variety American—a mélange of every nationality and ethnic background,” he explained with a big fetching smile. “I may even have some Inuit in me.” Petra tried to imagine him covered in a puffy parka, face framed by a fur-lined hood, but all she could come up with was an image of something that held an uncanny resemblance to the Pillsbury Dough Boy. Her laughter came out unexpectedly and sincere.

“What?” he said. “You don’t believe me? One of these days I’ll show you my family tree. I have a too-many-times-removed great uncle whose origins, albeit foggy, seem to stem from Alaska back when it was still just a territory.”

The evening went on enjoyably, the talk effortless. There were times when it felt they had always known each other, as if they had met in another life, interrupted by time and resumed in that closet. Petra found herself relaxing into the chair with the knowledge that this felt right, felt familiar and easy, even when her body’s reaction to Sam made the situation anything but comfortable. She smiled when he confided that he had a lot of trouble learning how to read as a child, but was now an avid reader who couldn’t imagine a life without books. Reading was and always had been a very important part of her life. Books were her first, and, being an introvert—which Sam obviously was not—sometimes her only friends. Her heart melted when he told her about his love for art, in spite of his own total inability to create it. Art, in many forms, played yet another important role in her life. She had an artistic soul, even though she was not in any way an artist. However, she was indeed creative and was often able to see the beauty in things no one else could. When she was surrounded by art, be it in the form of music or brilliant paintings, she felt at home—she felt whole.

“Do you often volunteer at St. Vincent?” he asked suddenly. He had a twinkle in his bright green eyes that almost blinded her. Why did he have to be so good looking? It would be so much easier to keep herself level-headed if he was just a tad less stunning. “Or is this one of your art ventures, carving pumpkins for notoriety?”

Chuckling softly, she replied, “I volunteer there anytime they need me and anytime I can. I am no Mother Teresa, mind you.” He laughed with her. “I grew up in the parish and this church was a big part of my childhood. They do such great things for everybody in need, and they can use all the help they can get.”

“Father Lowry had great things to say about you,” Sam offered.

“Oh yeah?” Her eyebrow arched skeptically. “How did you come to be talking about me? I thought you guys had some business to take care of.”

“I was curious…” he confessed with a coy little smile. “So, I asked. After all, we started our relationship backward, didn’t we?”

Her eyebrow shot up again. “What do you mean, backward?”

That devilish smile of his made a new appearance, and she thought for a moment that the restaurant had suddenly become brighter.
I am losing my mind
. She looked away from him as he spoke. “We started very intimately—physically speaking—and we’re now getting to know each other…not so physically.”

Why did he have to be so maddening? It was not necessarily a bad thing, but it really riled her up, making her heart skip beats and throwing her stomach into somersaults. Her hands became very interesting all of a sudden as she tried to avoid his eyes.

“You’re looking for words to describe your sense of happiness about our developing relationship, aren’t you?” he said.

She knew he was being sarcastic as he always seemed to be. Not that she could blame him. She was a very sarcastic person herself, always turning everything into a joke of sorts. Being such an introvert had not been easy when she was younger. In school, kids either ignored her or bullied her. Later, in college other students thought her to be a snob, mistaking her inability to make small talk for haughtiness. Petra had soon discovered that she could indeed talk to others through jokes and biting remarks. Sarcasm was also great camouflage for emotional hurts and lack of confidence. It was a weapon she often used in her battle against awkwardness, so, she couldn’t fault him for the same sin.

“So, what exactly is your business with Father Lowry about?” Petra asked, leaning forward a little. “Forgive me if I find it hard to believe that saintly old man has any reason to need the assistance from someone who skulks around in closets.”

“Judgy, aren’t you?” he snapped back, a half-smile contradicting his angry tone. “Well, if you must know, Father Lowry recently lost his parents—he’s not that old. He’s been having trouble locating their will. His younger sister is disabled and he needs the funds to sustain her.”

“How are you going to help him?” she asked pointedly, her nose wrinkled as she leaned forward a little more. “Do you have a magic wand that will make the will appear from thin air?”

Sam chuckled. “I wish I did…even though I would look pretty silly waving a wand around.” She laughed with him. “However, I do have a friend who is a lawyer that agreed to help him for a nominal fee.”

Silence ensued and Petra tilted her head to the side in a movement reminiscent of a bird. “Well, did you find it?”

“Yes, Miss Nosy,” he replied, touching the tip of her nose with his finger. “My friend has located it and he’s now in the process of implementing its contents. Are you happy now?”

Petra smiled. “Well, I do feel better,” she admitted, leaning back away from him. “For a while I thought you were involved in some shady business.”

Sam’s hand shot across the tiny table to cover hers and an electric jolt went through her. His intensely green eyes sought hers and she reluctantly obliged. “Listen, Petra,” he whispered, the amusement in his voice gone. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, but I think you know, just like I do, that there is something between us. You may not like it, you may not want it, but it’s there nevertheless. We might as well accept it and move on. Who knows? It could be a good thing.”

Petra’s marriage to Jonas had been an unmitigated disaster. The one time she had allowed herself to follow her emotions and let go of the constant cautionary reminders her own mind threw at her, she had ended up in a long, painful divorce. She wasn’t ready to make the same mistake again. Charm and looks were not going to trap her into another painful relationship that would destroy her already damaged heart. She seemed strong and well-put together, but inside she was as fragile as an eggshell. A wrong word, a wrong move and she would break into a million pieces, never to be completely put together again.

“It’s getting late,” she said brusquely, pulling away from his touch and standing up. “I need to go home.”

Looking a little confused, Sam stood up as well and waved at the waiter for the bill. “I’ll take you home,” he said, extracting some money from his wallet. “My car is parked around the corner.”

“I can take a cab,” she said, hating herself for not driving that day. Seattle was so busy during the day that she often preferred to walk or take a bus. Of course, she didn’t expect to be out this late, and taking a bus right now was suicidal for a woman.

“No way,” he said, handing her the coat and helping her slide into it. “I kept you here late, and there is no way I’m going to let you go by yourself. I will drive you and that’s that!” There was such authority in his voice at that moment, she didn’t even consider contradicting him.
He would make a good leader
. Or maybe he was a leader. She really didn’t know much about him. Strangely enough, their conversation tonight had never broached their professional lives. Why was that?

Resigned with the fact that she preferred to be at this man’s mercy than be attacked by a criminal in the dark streets of the city, she accepted his offer and allowed him to drive her home on the outskirts of town. After her divorce, determined not to take any money from her idiot husband, Petra had moved to a beautiful little cottage on the banks of Puget Sound, just outside Seattle. It had been left to her in her parents’ will when they died. The house was very simple; it only had two bedrooms and one bath, but the back of it faced the Sound in all its glory. From her living room and bedroom, she had the amazing view of the water with all its inlets and little islands, plus the majestic view of the snow-covered peaks of the Olympic Mountains. This was her little haven, a place where she could feel happy and serene without having to move much. Here, she found the inspiration for her creative pursuits—which were many—and the peace of mind required to recharge from the hectic modern daily life.

“Wow, Petra,” Sam exclaimed as he pulled in her driveway. “This is amazing!”

“You should see it in the daylight,” she said and immediately regretted it. It sounded too much like an invitation, and she wasn’t ready to share her secret haven with him yet. “You can see Mt. Rainier from here,” she quickly added.

“I’ll have to come and visit sometime soon,” he said with a hint of amusement. It was dark and she couldn’t see very well, but she was willing to bet he was wearing that impish smile of his. He opened the door and circled the car to open hers. “I’ll walk you to the door. This may be beautiful, but it also looks very lonely at night.”

She couldn’t argue with that. It was indeed lonely, which was part of the charm. However, she did avoid coming home late because ominous shadows always seemed to hide in the bushes and behind the giant evergreens that surrounded the whole property. Her rational side told her there was nothing but owls and deer prowling in the dark, but her cautious—and possibly a bit paranoid—female side told her otherwise. Secretly, she was grateful he was willing to walk her to the door. As they approached, the sensor turned the porch lights on. They could see the little quaint window beside the front door and the now dormant rhododendrons planted underneath it. In the spring they exploded in a profusion of violets and reds, lending the whole place a certain fairy-tale aura and drenching the air in a fresh, inviting scent.

Petra could tell Sam was truly impressed by her place, and in spite of herself, she felt an irrational sense of pride in it. What did she care what he thought? Yet, it seemed like she did.

Stopping right under one of the lights, Petra unlocked her door and turned to face him. She hadn’t realized that, once again, he was uncomfortably close to her. Sam gave her one of his charming smiles and she smiled back, shaking a little in awareness of his body. “Well, thank you for dinner and for bringing me home,” she said in a not-so-firm voice. The man could really rattle her nerves, even when not trying.

“We need to do it again,” he said, lowering his voice to dangerously sexy levels. Taking a step even closer, he added, “Soon.”

Now she was shaking in earnest. As if an earthquake had chosen her body as the epicenter, she could feel her legs wobbling under her and her arms jerking against her sides. Silently, she thanked God for the cover of darkness, but she couldn’t be one-hundred percent sure he wasn’t aware of her near panic state. In fact, she was pretty certain he knew it very well, for he took two more steps toward her and his body was now tantalizingly touching hers. His warm hands wrapped themselves on her waist and her heart cartwheeled. Instinctively, she tried to step away, but his hands held firm.

“What are you so afraid of?” he asked, so close to her mouth she could feel his warm breath on her lips.

Petra hesitated for a second, and that moment of trepidation cost her some more in between space. With his body now glued to hers and his hands pressing gently but firmly into the small of her back, it was obvious he wanted her as much as she wanted him, even though she hated to admit it. He too shook like a leaf on a windy day. “Oh, shit!” she exclaimed under her breath as her lips rose up to meet his.

The kiss was passionate and urgent at first, as if they both wanted to taste as much of each other as they could in the shortest time possible, but then it became gentle and sensual, unhurried and relished to its fullest. Their bodies fit each other as if they were two pieces from one whole, and Petra found herself melting into his embrace to the point she was not sure where she ended and he began. It was an overwhelming feeling, a mixture of wanting and needing combined with a feverish desperation she could not explain. When they finally broke apart, they were breathless and wanting more. It was that sense of yearning that shook her out of her strange delirium. She wasn’t going to get romantically involved with anyone right now, and she knew herself too well to realize there was no such thing as a one-night stand or a passing fling for her. It was too easy for her romantic heart to take that dangerous step farther, to make her fall in love all over again.

Sam seemed shocked when she pushed him away. “No, sorry, I can’t do this,” she said. “Goodnight.”