Real Romance

chapter Five



"Where are we going?" Marie asked, as David held open the door to Books & Bistro, letting her leave first. He had a bulging green backpack slung over his shoulder and was wearing the same blue parka she remembered from the park.

"It's a surprise," he said, with a mischievous smile.

Marie wasn't so sure she should be setting herself up for surprises with this man. He'd already surprised, her enough, with the way he sent her pulse racing, and her emotions all out of kilter.

She scanned the small gravel parking area. Inside the ultra posh Books & Bistro, Marie could almost envision herself being in any cosmopolitan city in the world. But once she stepped out into the fading Virginia twilight and caught a glimpse of the Blue Ridge Mountains, she knew she was very much at home.

Covesville wasn't really much to speak of. There was this strip mall and a few downtown restaurants, plus a park, the mountain lake, and the small but distinguished women's college that sat high on a hill in the center of town.

"Where's your car?" she asked, noticing he had stopped on the curb.

"No car," he said, bending to open a padlock attached to a chain wound round a brick pillar and through the back wheel of a glistening ten-speed bicycle. "We're going by bike."

Marie gasped and brought her hands to her cheeks, staring down at her short cashmere dress.

"Don't worry," he said, throwing her a wink. "You'll be riding on back. I won't see a thing.

"Say," he said, shooting a glance at the bookstore. "Isn't there someone you need to call?"

"Call?" Marie asked, still wondering how she was going to modestly lift her leg over the high bar of that man's bicycle.

" Fiancé, maybe?" David said, feeling he had to ask.

Okay, he told himself, let's get this all out in the open. Acknowledge what you know. Woo her in a gentlemanly fashion. Then, after she's had a glass of wine—or two—ask her how serious she is about this guy, anyway.

"No," Marie said, giving a little cough. "No one to call.

"Now," she asked, buttoning up her lambs wool coat. "How do I mount this thing?"

David took a deep breath and strapped his backpack to a rack above the rear wheel. He wasn't altogether sure he'd be able to pedal straight with her riding his seat, her cushiony bosom pressed up against his back...

He felt his ears go tingly and knew he was reddening from the neck up.

"Here," he said, swinging his leg over the bike, "let me get on first, then I'll help you."

David steadied himself above the bar, then turned to look at her.

"Just hang on to my shoulders and hop on. The seat's all yours. I'll ride standing."

"Standing?" Marie asked, settling her rump on the hard leather seat and doing her best to tug down her creeping hemline. "Then how will I—"

But her words were lost in a rush of wind, as David lifted his lean hips and started to pedal.

David picked up speed and wheeled out of the parking lot, heading north.

Marie found herself clinging on for dear life to—of all things—David's rear end. She tried to center her hands on his undulating hips, but they kept slipping forward as he increased his movement with the speed of the bike. Oh my, she thought as the fingers of her right hand cupped around something hard in his jeans pocket.

She jerked her hands up to his waistline, but the bike wheels met the stones of an old dirt road and her left hand mistakenly traveled down his rock-hard thigh.

"Marie, sweetheart"—David grinned as he peered over his shoulder—"maybe we should wait until we get where we're going."

Her face burned as hot as three-alarm chili. Oh my God, he thought she was attacking him!

"Where are we going?" she yelled above the cross-winds.

Marie slipped her hands under his parka and grabbed for the waistband of his jeans, digging her thumbs under his leather belt. There, she thought, gripping his hips with splayed fingers. Now everything would stay put.

Well, well, David thought, grinning to himself. He was enjoying this ride even more than he thought he would. He'd been right about Marie. Right from the start. They had chemistry together, her fiancé be damned.

He shifted gears and brought the bike to a moderate crawl.

"Almost there," he told her, wondering why she had stopped doing what she'd been doing. Well, there'd be plenty of time for that. Plenty of time to allow those lovely fingers to explore.

David steered his bike into a clearing by a group of pines. Ahead of them, the quiet waters of Grassy Creek glimmered in the fading light, catching a purplish reflection of the distant mountains.

"A picnic?" Marie asked, as David dismounted and helped her get off the bike. Despite the fact that she'd lived here all her life, places like this were breathtaking still.

The breeze picked up and Marie huddled her arms around herself for warmth.

"Too chilly for you?" David asked, heating her with his smile.

"No, I'll be all right," she said, poking at the backpack he was carrying. "What's cooking?"

"Well," he said, looking around, then settling on a spot not too far from the water."How do submarine sandwiches and wine sound?"

Marie heaved a sigh, grateful he hadn't decided on one of those fat-free tofu dinners Cecil had been so fond of.

"Perfect," she said, grabbing one end of the red plaid blanket and helping David stretch it flat on the ground. Maybe, just maybe, this would go well.

"Marie," David said, uncorking the bottle as she decided where to put the knees that insisted on sneaking out of her too-short-for-a-picnic length dress. "I hope you're not getting the wrong impression from all of this."

She blinked hard, thinking she couldn't have heard him correctly. This was a date, right? A romantic waterside picnic by Grassy Creek.

David placed two plastic cups on the blanket and filled each halfway before looking up. "I mean, I know you're committed to someone else and I'd never—"

"Never what, David? Ask out a woman who was engaged? Pursue her relentlessly in her place of business? Fall all over the floor of her store?"

David hoped that the elongating shadows from the pines hid his slight frown. She was supposed to be impressed by his gentlemanly reserve. Not, as was apparent, ticked off.

"I couldn't help myself," he said, handing her some wine, then holding his own in her direction.

She accepted the cup and took a long swallow without making a toast.

"Marie, you've got to listen to me," he said, desperate for the words that would bring her back to bicycle mode. "I'm not the cad you think I am. I'm a gentleman, really."

She arched both eyebrows over her turquoise wire frames and downed another sip of wine before speaking.

"Well, well," she said, her eyes showing a dangerous amount of emotion. "Prove it."

Uh-oh, this was a trap and David knew it. "Ah sure, anything. What can I do?"

"It's what you can say, David."

A trick! He knew it. Holy cow. David held his breath and counted to ten, before exhaling slowly. "All right then, so what is it you want me to say?"

Marie put down her wine and stared out at the sun that was sinking below the shadowy mountains."What I'd like, what I'd really like, is for you to give me something no other man has."

David sat at attention, liking the sound of this.

"The truth."

It was David's turn to drink some wine. And he did, emptying his entire cup. "Okay," he began cautiously. "I'll give you the truth. What kind of truth are you looking for?"

Marie turned her deep brown eyes upon his and David could've sworn he was falling off a cliff.

"I've got to know why, David. Why me? Or is it just me—and not a whole slew of others?"

David shifted his position just slightly, feeling cornered. Of course, it was just her! She'd tortured him, turned him inside out. He'd been so far gone he was actually reading wedding planners and literary fiction, for crying out loud! Still, David couldn't deny the feminine names that took up so much space on his contact list any more than he could ignore the pounding in his chest.

"Nobody's ever done for me what you do," he said, settling on a truth that wouldn't give too much away.

"Ah, but," she said, shaking a scolding finger in his direction, "are there others out there still doing it for you?"

That seemed like a mighty personal question from a woman who was supposedly engaged.

"And what if there were?" David asked. "What precisely would it be to you?"

"Nothing," she said, her face expressionless in the near darkness.

"Nothing?" he asked, riveted to his soul.

Marie was startled by the pain she saw in his eyes. He'd wanted her to care. Wanted her to say she hoped he'd be her one and only, with eyes for no one else.

David pulled a couple of submarine sandwiches from his backpack.

"Might as well eat," he said, handing her a paper package. "Never good to drink on an empty stomach."

Marie had to agree. The one cup of wine she'd had was going to her head. She felt dizzy and depressed, and very much as if she'd made a mess of things.

David turned away and devoured his sandwich before talking again. And when he spoke, his words were bitter.

"What gives you the right to press me about my love life, when you're the one who's engaged?"

"Oh, David," Marie said, bringing her coat sleeve to her mouth and feeling as if she were going to burst into tears. "I have no fiancé. Not anymore."

David balled up his napkin and spun to face her in the moonless night.

Her eyes looked moist behind her glasses and her lower lip was trembling.

"No fiancé?" he asked, his voice a low vibrato.

She removed her glasses and shook her head.

And, with an overwhelming certainty, David knew he would have to kiss her—and kiss her as no man had before.