Real Romance

chapter Seven



David pulled up to the small white house with the dormer windows and wicker porch swing, and smiled in reflection. Somehow it seemed just like her. All homespun and comfortable, but pretty and inviting. Its neat front walk was lined with tapered boxwoods, while the large red oak near the center of the yard filtered morning sunlight through its turning leaves. A vision of a tire swing hanging from one of the old oak's sturdy branches came to mind. But David quickly dismissed it and hurried up the steps to the house. He was ten minutes late already.

Marie checked her image in the hall mirror for what seemed like the hundredth time. If this was such a casual thing, then why did she feel like a schoolgirl about to entertain her first beau? She yanked the rubber band out of her hair, deciding the ponytail looked too perky. She was going to get better acquainted with David, not audition for the cheer-leading squad.

She adjusted the straps on her corduroy jumper, thinking maybe she'd tried too hard to look conservative. One of the sweater dresses would have been better. David had never been able to take his eyes off her when she'd been wearing one of those. Of course, David always seemed to check her out no matter what she was wearing, and in a strange way Marie found that extremely stimulating. No other man, including Paul, had seemed so totally smitten by her appeal.

The doorbell rang, nearly jolting her out of her shoes. She took a quick second look at the way her loose wavy hair fell about her shoulders, and decided it was okay. But, oh God, her glasses!

Marie lay a sweaty palm on the doorknob, knowing it was too late to do anything about those now.

"Hi!" she said, pulling back the door.

The crisp scent of autumn rushed past her, carrying his musk oil scent, and she nearly fainted.

"Hi," he said, one hand coyly tucked behind his back. He smiled and his eyes seemed as blue as the morning sky. "I brought you something."

"Oh, you shouldn't—" Marie started to protest, but when he whipped out a jumbo bag of candy-coated chocolates, she changed her mind.

"Why, thank you!" she said, hating herself for blushing. "How did you know I had a weakness?"

"All women..." David started to say, but he caught himself. Smart move, he chided himself. The playboy image is precisely what she's looking for.

He chuckled and shrugged his wide shoulders.

"Well, to hear Debbie tell it, all women love chocolate."

"Debbie?"

"My sister."

"Oh, the one who's getting married!"

"Ah, yeah. Right."

Marie smiled.

"Say," he said, motioning toward the door, "we seem to be letting an awful lot of heat out. Should we get going, or are you going to ask me in?"

Marie turned every shade of red on the spectrum, thinking he didn't know the truth in his words. Her internal combustion engine was fired up and running—right away with her reason.

"Oh, here," she said, "I'm so sorry. Yes, please come in while I get my coat."

David stepped through the threshold and into the sweetest-smelling house he'd ever been in. There was a lingering scent of cinnamon, fresh flowers, and—he swore—something that smelled just like gingerbread. For all intents and purposes, he could have stepped back in time and walked right into his grandmother's home in rural North Carolina.

"Nice place," he said, looking around. Although a bit cluttered, everything was neatly arranged. There were some nice pieces, antiques, David thought, but mainly just comfortable furniture that had seen a lot of living. "Real settled."

"Settled?" Marie asked, sticking one arm into her coat, as David walked over and hoisted the rest of it onto her shoulders.

"Yeah. Not much of a bachelorette pad, if you know what I mean. Reminds me of my grandma's house."

She pushed her glasses up on her nose and buttoned up her coat. "In a good way, I hope."

David's smile was genuine. "In a very good way, Marie," he said, his voice pleasantly husky. "I loved my grandma's house. You live here with your folks?"

"Mother died when I was young, my dad—last year," she said, taking pains to keep her eyes on her keys.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Well," Marie said forcing a brave smile. "Don't be too sorry for me. I've still got some pretty good memories of my mom, and my dad was a terrific father to all of us."

"All of you? How many are there?"

"Well," she said, seeming to brighten at the opportunity to show off her family. She crossed to the upright piano at the end of the living room and picked up a picture frame.

"This is Johnny. He's the oldest and has just gotten engaged to Meg. This was taken at their engagement party in July."

She pointed to a photo of another man who looked a lot like Johnny but wore a mustache. "This one's Mark. And this is my sister Jill with her husband Dan, and this one's my baby sister Teresa with her husband Jack."

Her sisters—one blond, the younger one brunette and resembling Marie—were pretty women. But, as far as David was concerned, Marie outshone them both.

"Quite an attractive bunch."

"We hold our own," she said, smiling proudly. "How about you? You have a big family?"

"Just me and Debbie." David gave her a wry smile. "She's the oldest, but you'd never know it."

"And your parents?"

"Dad's in banking down in North Carolina. Mom's made a career out of the Junior League."

"How wonderful she can volunteer."

Yeah, David thought. If only she'd spent a comparable amount of time with the only two children she had. If only his father understood that a man was worth more than the money he made—or in David's case, didn't make.

"Shall we go?" Marie asked, looking down at her watch. "I do need to be at work by noon, and it's almost ten-thirty."

"Your chariot awaits," David said, holding back the door. "Watch your step."

Which was precisely what Marie intended to do, especially since she had the sinking feeling that the rug was somehow going to get pulled right out from under her.



"Didn't know you owned a car," Marie said, sliding into his old Mazda.

He gave her a startled look and then burst out laughing. "Hey, the bicycle is mainly for work. It's close to where I live; I hate to think I'm polluting the environment just to go two blocks."

Uh-oh, Marie thought, red flag number one going up. This was Cecil talk. Not that she didn't believe in protecting the environment. It had been her, after all, who'd suggested Books & Bistro use recycled paper products. But something about the idea that David would have anything in common with Cecil Barnes made her faintly sick to her stomach.

"Glad you liked the chocolates," he said, changing the subject. "I'm a big fan myself."

Marie raised one eyebrow. A male chocoholic, now that was something. "Next you're going to tell me that you like Tater Tots, and devour potato chips by the handful."

David laughed and hung a left down the main street, leading to campus. "I am a bit of a junk food junkie," he said, looking sideways with a mischievous grin. "But please don't hold my gourmet ice cream against me."

Marie's mind painted a really naughty picture of her and a very naked David getting creative with a pint-size container on her kitchen floor.

She blinked, then leaned forward—instinctively jamming her hand under the car seat.

David pulled his car to a stop at one of the only two traffic lights in town.

"Mind telling me what you're doing?"

Marie slammed back in her seat, acutely aware of her blunder.

"Looking for rice cakes?" she said with a sheepish shrug.

David laughed so loudly that he didn't see the light change.

"Huh?"

He collapsed in hilarity again, white knuckles gripping the wheel.

"Light's green," she said, with a nudge.

"Oh, right," he said, straightening himself in his seat with another burst of laughter.

He put his car in gear, then pulled up to a nearby curb beside the Cafe Ole Coffee Shop.

David shut off the ignition, then turned to look at her.

"Now, why on earth would you think I'd hide rice cakes under my passenger seat?"

Marie sunk her chin below the collar of her coat.

"Wild guess?"

"That I'm a closet health nut?" David chuckled again. "No worries there, sweetheart."

"Come on," he said, scooting around the car and opening her door, "let's go in and get some coffee with plenty of white sugar. And cream."

Marie stayed, nailed to the passenger seat by his guileless eyes. What in the world had she been thinking? That he would hide an addiction to rice cakes, just as holistic Cecil had concealed his penchant for fast food?

David gave her a crooked smile and Marie's heart beat faster.

"Coming out?" he asked, his smile broadening, "or am I going to have to come in there and get you?"

Her heart beat faster still, just imagining what that might entail.

"No, it's all right," she said, composing herself. "I can manage."

David held out his hand, but she steadied herself against the car door instead and climbed out. No way was she going to touch him now. Now that her palms were slick and her cheeks hot pink.

David took her by the elbow anyway and helped her out of the car.

"Are you always this chivalrous?" she asked, "Or is it because I remind you of your grandmother?"

Marie caught a twinkle in his eye and sensed he was thinking something that she didn't care to know.

"You bring out the gentleman in me. What I can I say?"

"Ah, so you finally admit," she teased, as they crossed the sidewalk to the cafe, "that you're not always so gentlemanly."

"Guilty," he said, with a sheepish look as he held back the heavy glass door. "But I can promise you this. I've never, ever done anything a woman hasn't wanted me to do."

Marie swallowed hard and selected a table. Something about David made her believe that a woman would actually get down on her knees and beg for his manly attention.

Not her, she decided with a shake of her head. She was getting to know him, that was all. As a friend. But Marie hadn't had a male friend in—she didn't know how long. That was exactly her problem. She'd gone from one long-term relationship to the next. What she needed now was a breather, not a man who left her breathless.

"So, what would you like?"

Marie looked up into his vibrant blue eyes. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, after all.

"Coffee," she said, realizing the waitress had appeared at their table. "Coffee and an orange scone, please."

"Scone?" David asked, with feigned indignation. He leaned in with a gravelly whisper, "Not nearly enough sugar."

David turned and directed his attention to their server. "I'll take coffee, too, with double cream. And bring me one of those gigantic cinnamon buns with the icing dripping all over it."

The waitress nodded, and started to turn.

"No, wait! Make that two!"

The waitress's face was an open question.

"Cinnamon buns."

"David Lake, every one of those perfect teeth is going to rot and fall out."

"Marie, now you're sounding like my mother! Have you ever tried those things? They're wicked with a capital W."

No, Marie thought. Wicked with a capital W was sitting right in front of her. She didn't know how he could really eat like that. But David Lake didn't appear to have one surplus ounce on his entire body.

"So, David," she said, trying to get things on a more intellectual tract. "Tell me more about that book you've been reading."

But somehow, it was terribly hard to think about that boring book, with the exciting Marie McCloud sitting right across from him. She looked cute in that strappy brown jumper, pulled over a tight-fitting shirt that David wished he could see more of. Her cheeks had that gorgeous glow and her eyes fixed on him in that manner that made his head spin. David noticed her glasses sat slightly off center. Most likely thanks to that nasty dent right in the center of their bridge.

"I can still fix those glasses for you, you know."

"Huh?"

Marie brought a startled hand to the edge of her frames.

"Uh, I forgot they were... What I mean is, I can still see straight." No, that was baloney. "Fine, I mean. I can see just fine! The lenses weren't damaged at all."

"You sure about that?" he asked, reaching forward and gently lifting the glasses from her face. "Because usually when the frames get bent..."

He took the turquoise frames and turned them over and over in his hands before holding them up to the light.

"Now that is odd. Not a scratch on them. How did you say this happened?"

Marie blanched. "I, uh, it was the..."

"Looks almost like a child just—"

"Yes, that's it!"

She cowered, realizing her voice had risen about the buzz of the restaurant, and made an effort to speak more softly. "One of the kids at story hour—he bent my frames."

"Wow!" David said with surprise, as the waitress set down two steaming mugs. "Never realized your work was so dangerous."

Marie nervously stirred her coffee, wishing she knew what was going on behind those crystal blue eyes.

"Oh, not really so dangerous. You know kids get a little wound up at times. He didn't mean it, I'm sure."

"And the mother didn't even offer to pay to have them fixed?" David asked, dumping four packets of sugar in his cup. "I think that's awful."

"Well, what with the guarantee and all that, I figured, why make a big deal?"

David studied her as her spoon clinked repeatedly in her black cup.

"Don't you think you want to put something in there before you stir it?"

A nervous laugh caught in her throat. "I take mine black."

The waitress rescued her from further humiliation by bring their pastries.

"Well, anyway," David said, handing back her glasses, "if you want to drop by the shop later this week, I'd be happy to try to straighten those out for you—or replace them with another pair."

Marie was so flustered at the moment that all she could think of was downing her coffee and getting to work. Children's story hour? Heavens to Betsy, what had she done? Blaming some poor, innocent, imaginary little boy. When all the while it had been her pressing her flawless frames against the ladies' room sink counter!

"You feeling all right?" David asked, unrolling a bit of cinnamon bun and dipping it in his milky coffee.

"Fine, fine." Marie took a bite of scone, hoping she wouldn't choke. "Mmm, this is delicious."

"You sure you're okay? You look a little... hot."

Now that was the understatement of the year, David told himself. Marie McCloud always looked more than a little hot. No matter where she was, no matter what she wore, when she looked at him with those big brown eyes, she positively sizzled.

But she did look uncomfortable, sitting there going crazy with that rotating spoon. A little off balance somehow. Then she picked up her mug and drained one third of the coffee out of it before setting it back on the table.

"Well, it's true I haven't been feeling myself lately. Maybe there's something going around."

David nodded sympathetically. "Maybe you should take the day off. Grab a little R & R."

She looked over at him, and—for a brief second—seemed to be considering it.

"No, we have a staff meeting this afternoon. And I have book orders to review."

"Well, surely they'll understand if you—"

Marie stole a glance at her watch. "Oh my gosh, it's eleven-forty! David, we'd better get the check and get going."

Well, he thought, pulling out his wallet. He could never be accused of not trying.

The idea of a whole uninterrupted day with Marie McCloud tantalized David with all kinds of possibilities. He could create opportunities to get close to her and—

"Ready?" she asked, polishing off her coffee.

But, at that very moment, David feared that rising from the table would show her precisely how ready he was.

"Can you give me another minute?" he asked, stalling for time.

And then he called over the waitress and asked for a very tall, very cold glass of water.