Sweet On You

chapter Thirteen



Marley crouched in the doorway to the main kitchen in their house, peering around the corner to see Daniela in an overlarge man's shirt, barefoot and seemingly naked underneath, whisking something in a bowl.

Her boss was singing.

It wouldn't have been an unusual occurrence a year ago. But since before they'd moved to San Francisco, Marley would have been able to count on one hand the number of times she'd caught Daniela singing. She'd have been able to count on one hand even if she'd had both her hands amputated.

She ducked as Daniela danced around the corner and did a little two-step to Bing Crosby's White Christmas.

Singing. Cooking without clothes on. Strange phone calls. Not coming home until really early in the morning.

Brian was right: there was a man in this scenario.

Her cell phone rang. Cursing under her breath, she crawled backwards, away from the kitchen so her boss wouldn't catch her. She looked at the screen and, answered, whispering, "Brian, how did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That Daniela was seeing someone."

"Marley, do you have laryngitis?"

"No." She almost dropped the phone as she continued to crawl down the hallway, so Daniela wouldn't hear her. "I'm being stealthy."

"Oh." Then he whispered back, "Why?"

"Because I was peeking in on my boss."

"You mean you were spying."

"No, I was definitely only peeking." She frowned. "Why are you calling? Because obviously it's not to gloat over knowing she was seeing someone."

"I want to go to the Ferry Building. The farmers market is this morning."

"That's nice. Have a good time."

"Okay. I'll pick you up in fifteen."

"What?" She made a face. "No. I'm not going."

"What else are you going to do on such a beautiful Saturday morning? Spy on your boss? Read comic books? Work?"

"You say that like it's a curse."

"It's probably the nicest Saturday we're going to have in a long time, and you're passing up a ride on my bike to people watch and eat bad-for-you things from street vendors. But, hey, to each his own."

She rolled her eyes. But the ride on the bike was tempting, and the last time she'd gone to the Ferry Building it'd been with Daniela, and she'd really wished she'd had her camera. What was a culinary treat for most people was a visual treat for her. The thought of taking photos excited her. She hadn't taken any pictures in so long. "Twenty minutes," she said impulsively.

"You got it." He hung up, probably so she couldn't change her mind.

Scrambling to her feet, she hurried downstairs. On impulse, she put on a pair of jeans and a turquoise blue long-sleeved shirt with beading—also a gift from Daniela. She topped it with a gray blazer, a scarf, and her camera bag.

She let herself out of her Batcave right as Brian drove up. He rolled up the driveway and stopped in front of her. She was momentarily struck speechless by the look of him. He looked badass.

Afraid to blurt out what she was thinking, she wordlessly took the helmet he offered, jammed it on her head, and hopped on. He turned around in the driveway and they roared off.

A thrill of excitement rushed through her. She held him tightly around his waist, even though she felt comfortable this time. She liked the solid feel of him against the front of her body.

She gasped at the thought, feeling guilty like she'd been unfaithful to Tony. She quickly erased it from her mind, as if he'd know.

Marley hopped off before Brian backed into a spot between two cars and parked the motorcycle. Undoing her helmet, she handed it to him.

He secured both helmets to the bike and then took her hand. "Let's go."

She followed, staring down at their linked hands. It felt... weird. Not bad, just weird. It was kind of nice, actually, in a way. Not awkward, like she'd have expected it to be.

"Uh-oh." A smile threatened his lips as he led her across the Embarcadero. "You're thinking. That can't result in anything good. Let me assure you that this is platonic."

"My friends don't usually hold my hand."

"Then you need better friends."

"Actually, I was trying to remember the last time I held anyone's hand."

"Do you remember the first time?"

She looked at him incredulously. "Do you?"

"Of course." He looked at her like she was silly. "Kindergarten. Mary Ellen Fisher. She had two blond braids and buck teeth."

Marley laughed.

"I loved her teeth. It broke my heart when she got braces in sixth grade." He shot her a grin. "Your turn."

She couldn't remember the first time. She couldn't even remember her mother holding it. She did remember one time when Tony had put his hand on hers—it'd lasted only a second, but she couldn't bring herself to wash that hand all day. "I don't think anyone held my hand in school."

"What about after? What about your One True Love, the guy you're waiting for?"

She tried to imagine Tony holding someone's hand and just couldn't see it. "I don't think he's that type, and other guys always saw me as another one of them."

Brian looked her up and down, a disbelieving look on his face. "Whatever you need to tell yourself. Come on. This stand over here has the best squash."

"Squash?" She wrinkled her nose.

"Wait till you see them. Close your eyes."

"Brian, that's just—"

"No, really. Trust me." He stared at her steadily, waiting.

Sighing, she closed her eyes. She wanted to say that she was humoring him, but she did trust him.

He slowly, carefully guided her for what seemed like forever before telling her to stop. "Open your eyes."

Blinking, she focused on an amazing array of oranges, greens, yellows, and whites. All shapes and sizes, it was more like an art exhibit than a squash stand.

"See." He poked her. "I wouldn't steer you wrong."

Enchanted by the colors, she pulled out her camera and began to take pictures, appreciating that Brian stood out of the way and patiently let her do her thing. She took close-ups and shots at a distance, photos of the merchant holding a long squash suggestively, and of a patron laughing. Inspired, she changed the aperture and did a long-exposure still with people moving in the background to create a blur.

Then she tossed a squat orange squash to Brian. "Kiss it."

"Kiss it?" He made sour a face at the squash.

She snapped the picture, grinning. "It might turn into the princess you've always been waiting for."

"I haven't always been waiting for a princess."

She snapped another, changing angles.

"And an inanimate object like a squash can't turn into a princess," he added with feigned superiority. "Someone like you should know that."

She took another photo. "Someone like me?"

"Smart. More than book smart." He studied her, as if looking for the right word, and she caught it with her camera. "Wise beyond her years."

She lowered it. "Please don't tell me you're calling me old."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-nine."

"I'm thirty. I beat you." He took her hand and dragged her away. "Since you're taking pictures, let's go down the Embarcadero. Have you had any photo shoots by the arrow?"

"What arrow?"

He shook his head. "You're practically still a tourist rather than a resident, aren't you? Don't worry, we'll take care of some of the essentials today."

He led her down the piers toward the Bay Bridge, filling her in on history tidbits and pointing out hot spots, like the pier where he had his first kiss. She shook her head and caught his antics with her camera.

She also took pictures of other people walking by. She got a young couple to pose by the huge silver rocket ship, and caught the first steps of a baby who decided it was time to step out on her own as well as the parents' amazement.

After a little while, Brian said, "Let's walk up this pier. There's a bench at the end."

"Where you lost your virginity?" she asked with a little sarcasm.

"No. I lost my virginity in the backseat of my friend's classic Cadillac." He grinned at her. "It was green."

"I hope you mean the car."

"I can't imagine what else you'd think would be green." He sat down on the bench and stretched an arm on the backrest, leaving a space open for her to slide in.

She sat, stiff, aware of him so close. Leaning. His fingers played with the ends of her hair.

The bridge was behind him, the light was just right, and he had a contented look on his face. She took a picture of it to distract herself from the feel of him next to her.

"Give me that." He held his hand out.

"My camera?"

"No, your bra."

She gave him a baleful look.

"Of course, your camera." He grinned. "Unless handing over your bra would actually be a possibility."

"In your dreams," she said as she changed the setting to automatic and handed over the Nikon.

"Every night." He pointed it at her and looked through the lens. "Make love to the camera."

"Right."

He snapped a picture. "You're a sexy, sexy tiger. Growl for me, baby."

She laughed.

He took another photo. Then he leaned in, so his head was against hers, and took one of the two of them.

Still laughing, she turned her head.

And suddenly his lips were on hers.

She went still, frozen with shock.

His mouth was the only thing that touched her, and it was so gentle, so unthreatening, that it coaxed her into responding.

Where most guys would have taken that as a green light to go, Brian didn't change the pace at all. He urged her along slowly, without any demands, a brush of his tongue, a nibble of his lips. Warm and moist.

Skillful. He knew what he was doing.

There was nothing innocuous about it, though. He wasn't touching her, but she could feel the pull of it throughout her body, pooling molten right at the center of her.

He angled his head and deepened it for just a moment before he shifted away. Marley blinked, stunned by all of it, vaguely aware of him taking one more photo.

"Come on." He stood up and held out his hand. "Let's get gelato in the Ferry Building. You can take more pictures in there."

"Okay," she said faintly, dazedly standing up. Then she realized she didn't have her camera.

As if reading her mind, Brian said, "I'll give it back to you when I'm sure you won't drop it."

"Fair enough," she muttered.

He smiled and took her hand, twining his fingers through hers. She looked down at their entangled hands, deciding that she liked it.

She liked it a lot.