Real Romance

chapter Six



"I think I need to go home," Marie said, getting abruptly to her feet as David leaned toward her.

"Why?" David asked, springing off the blanket, his head still spinning from the wine.

She feigned a shiver. "It's getting cold out and I..."

Cold? At the moment, David felt anything but.

"...have to be at work early."

"But Marie," David said, putting his hands on her shoulders. "We were just getting started."

Boy, didn't she know it. Getting started all over again. Getting ready to fall right into his two masculine arms.

"Here," she said, stepping away so he couldn't touch her and stooping at the edge of the blanket. "Let me help you with this."

David ran his hands through his hair, trying to think of what to do next. Picking up the blanket? No way. This was not supposed to be happening, now that he wanted to take her in his arms and tumble her to the ground.

David stood by helplessly as Marie tugged the blanket out from under his feet and folded it neatly.

"Ready?" she asked, giving him a pleasant smile he thought better suited to one of her story hour attendees.

"Ready," he said, somehow imagining that the ride going home wouldn't be nearly as exciting as the one coming out here.



David stuffed another potato chip in his mouth as Caroline leaned a hip against his cluttered desk. Her little girl did have the chicken pox. And, because she was going to be mostly at home for the next two weeks, Caroline felt the need to come in for an hour to give David all the necessary instructions.

"Don't know what I did wrong," he said, between gobbles. "I mean, I thought you women were really into that romance stuff."

"We are," Caroline said with an indulgent half smile. "But not, maybe, if you fellows come on too fast."

"Too fast? This thing has been moving so slowly I swear I can hear those wheels scrape the pavement every time I see her!"

"Come now, David. Really, what's it been? One week?"

Caroline kicked off her heels and breathed an audible sigh of relief.

David perched a handful of chips in front of his mouth and paused.

"About that, I guess. But Caroline, you know how it is. Usually the girls are all over me!"

Caroline gave a hearty laugh, inched backwards and settled her rear on his desk.

"Kind of gets to your ego, huh?" she asked, swinging her legs freely as she sat there making a study of him.

But it wasn't his ego, really. It was something more like an itch. An itch he couldn't scratch and it was driving him crazy.

"I can't take it, Caroline!" he said, heaving himself forward and pounding his fists on either side of his head as it collapsed to the desk. "I'm not that strong a man!"

"Oh now, honey," she said, running her affectionate fingers through his hair, "from where I sit, you are made of steel."

David heard a nervous cough and looked up to find a startled Marie standing in the threshold to the back room.

"I just came..." she trailed off weakly, her face turning pink. She held up a bent pair of turquoise frames, apparently almost unable to finish. "...to redeem my unconditional guarantee."



"Slow down there a minute, child," Joanne said as Marie wheezed into the ladies' room sink. "I can't understand a word you're saying."

"Don't you see? I bent my frames on purpose. On purpose, Joanne! Just because I got to thinking I'd made a big mistake..."

She burst into sobs again and honked into a tissue.

"Made of steel! I swear, I'll never forget that woman's face as long as I live."

"Honey," Joanne said, lightly rubbing her back, "Don't you think it's possible you got it all wrong?"

"Wrong?" Marly snorted. "I don't think so. She was half naked, for heavens' sake!"

Joanne narrowed her eyes.

"Well, she'd already kicked off her shoes..."

Joanne hefted her large leather purse onto the counter. "You're going to be a mess introducing that touring book author. A real mess. Here," she said, her arm disappearing into her cavernous bag. "Let me see if I've got something in here that can help you."

"Joanne," Marie said sternly, lowering her slightly crooked glasses. "If it's one of those psychedelic drugs from the sixties..."

Joanne laughed and produced a roll of hard candies.

"Lemon or cherry?" she asked with a subtle smile.

Marie popped a cherry candy in her mouth and wished that all the men in the world were as easy to deal with as Joanne. She blew her nose again, then cleared her throat.

"So, how are things going with Chad?" she asked, surveying her ghastly reflection in the mirror. She'd have to redo the blush and the lipstick for sure, she thought, fumbling through her own pocketbook.

"Oh, honey, don't you worry about me and Chad. That old gray fox and I have an understanding."

"Oh?" Marie asked, applying a dab of lipstick.

"Yeah," Joanne said, her dark eyes twinkling. "He understands what I like and vice versa."

Marie chuckled and swept on a little blush, finally feeling half human. "It's taken me a while," she said, packing away her makeup in her purse. "But I guess I can now see why you found matrimony so distasteful."

"Distasteful?" Joanne asked, puckering up her lips and examining her own image in the mirror. "Heavens, did I say that?"

Marie slapped her on the arm. "You most certainly did! At least, that's how I took it."

"Well then, love," Joanne said, fiddling with her braid and pinching color into her cheeks. "Maybe you got that wrong, too."

"Joanne!" Marie said, her eyes sparkling with disbelief. "You're not—"

"I am," Joanne said with a cryptic smile.



Marie tugged on her bedtime socks, thinking about Joanne's remarks. She was certain the other woman wasn't telling her everything that was going on between her and Chad. At least their relationship had a chance. All this fantasizing about David Lake was getting out of hand. It was wonderful to imagine that he was Prince Charming, the gallant swain that romance novels were made of. But it would only be a matter of time before cold, hard reality hit.

David was sexy, attractive—yes. But Marie needed more. A person she could talk to. Somebody with whom she could share a passionate love of life. She'd never really had that with Cecil, or—goodness knows—with sexy Paul. With Paul, it had been all smoke and fire, until the whole thing had entirely burned out and Paul had gone on to someone else.

With Cecil—well, there wasn't exactly fire, but the two of them at least could carry on a conversation, even if they didn't always totally agree. Cecil simply worked too hard at being eccentric. And, to Marie, eccentric wasn't something you became, it was something you were—like it or not. But Cecil seemed to like the image of the "starving artist" very much. Organic foods and vegetarian cuisine were his mantra, but when no one was looking he was sneaking off for fast food burgers at the edge of town. Marie knew this because she'd found a whole store of paper wrappers wadded up under the front seat of his car.

If she'd applied half the investigative skill she used in tracking missing merchandise to dissecting her relationship with Cecil, she would have seen him for who he really was sooner. As it turned out, he'd been hiding more than the burger wrappers. He'd concealed his lust for another woman and the very important fact that he'd finally sold that incomprehensible book! He'd never even let her read it. Hardly a testament to the trust between them.

Marie nabbed the romance novel off her nightstand and settled back against the headboard.

She was curious to see what direction her favorite historical novelist, B. B. Knight, had taken the noble MacMillan clan... and their ignoble forefathers. If there was anything that could take Marie's mind off her worries, it was a muscular man in a kilt.



David pushed the disconnect button on his cell phone for the third time in a row. She would kill him, that's what she'd do. He checked his watch and saw it was five past nine. Books & Bistro had just closed its doors, and Marie had been nowhere in sight.

"Went home early," Joanne had told him. And then she'd surprised him by slipping him Marie's cell number.

David wasn't sure what Marie had told Joanne about him, but from the elderly woman's encouraging reception, David suspected that she felt a whole heck of a lot better about him than Marie did at the moment.

Until he drew his final breath, David would be haunted by the total disillusionment—and shock—he'd seen in Marie's eyes. She hadn't stayed to hand over the glasses. Just turned tail and run like a frightened rabbit.

Caroline had advised him to go after her. But he'd known there was no way on earth he could have explained away what she'd seen right then. Better to give her time, he'd decided. Even though Caroline had huffed and somehow sided with Marie. Holy cow, Caroline had caused the problem! And there she'd stood, slipping her skyscraper shoes back on, telling him that he was the one making mistakes.

David inhaled deeply and tried Marie's number again. He was just about to hang up a fourth time when she answered.

"Hello?" she said, as his throat closed up. "Anybody there?"

"Marie, this is David. David Lake," he said, praying she wouldn't press end call.

Of course it was David Lake. How many other Davids did Marie know who sent shivers down her spine just from the sound of his voice?

"I know what you must think of me, but I wanted a chance to explain."

She wasn't speaking, so he plowed right ahead. "I know what you walked in on looked bad, but it wasn't what you thought at all. Holy cow, Caroline's my boss!"

"How convenient."

"Oh, no. It's like that," David stuttered. "She was just giving me some advice."

Marie wasn't altogether sure she wanted to hear this.

"Look, David, the picnic was nice and all, but forgive me if I say I've already figured you out."

"Think what you will, Marie, but none of it's true. I mean, yeah, maybe once..." Did he need a speech therapist or what? He couldn't seem to get words out and have them make sense. David ran a hand along the damp back of his neck. Thirty-five degrees out and he was sweating!

"Marie, a lot has changed about me that you don't know. You don't know me at all, in fact."

She knew him well enough and intended to keep it that way. More than she'd realized at first, Cecil had left her in a fragile state. Now was no time to go getting mixed up with a handsome optician who left her unable to see straight.

"David," she said calmly. "It's late, I'm tired, and I'm afraid I'm all talked out."

"Well, that's too bad," David said, his scowl almost visible through the phone, "because talking's precisely what I had in mind. Fun talk. Nothing heavy. Just you and me, a cup of coffee somewhere. We could get to know each other a little better."

Marie's heart skipped a beat. Hadn't she just been thinking...? No, she told herself, violently shaking her head. She wouldn't fall for it.

"Besides, I've been reading something I think you'd really like."

"Oh?" she asked, her damnable interest piqued. If there was any way to get to a bookstore manager, it was by talking shop. "What is it?"

"Now that wouldn't be fair for me to give away all my conversation in advance, would it? Let's just say you and I might have a lot more in common than you seem to think."

Marie bit her bottom lip, telling herself not to buy it. Not to be hopeful, stupid—or both. "I don't know," she hedged.

"One hour, one cup of coffee is all I'm asking."

Well, she thought, fanning her romance book out on her chest with a sigh, what would one cup of coffee hurt? Even the fourteenth-century heroine of the book she was reading had decided to give her dastardly hero another chance.

"When and where?" she asked, sounding resigned.



The whole staff of Books & Bistro pressed their noses to the frosty glass and watched as David held his cell phone high above his head and did a celebration dance around the gravel parking lot.

And he didn't even care what they thought.