The sting of the slap was still ringing in my ears when my eyes snapped open.
“Why the hell did you hit me?” I demanded, blinking in the light that flooded the previously dark room.
Cathy stood staring at me, her face ashen with worry. “Because, you twit, you wouldn’t stop screaming.”
“Oh.” Movement in the corner of my eye startled a small squeak from my throat, then I realized it was only Jeff. Still I placed a hand over my heart to steady it. “Jeff, my God, you scared me.”
“I—I think your d-d-dream did that,” he said.
“Actually—” I blew out a long breath “—I think it was your glow-in-the-dark pj’s.”
Even in the dim light I could see him blush.
“Not that they’re not perfectly nice,” I added hastily, recovering my manners. I was in his apartment, after all. “I’ve just never seen black pj’s with white glowing stars on them before.” At least, not on a grown man.
“Jeez, Tabitha, you scared the life out of me,” Cathy breathed. She stumbled forward and wrapped her arms around my neck in an awkward hug. “You just kept screaming Finger! Finger! Over and over.” I felt her tremble before she pulled back.
“Finger?” I smothered a giggle with the back of my hand. “Really?”
“M-m-must’ve been some dream,” Jeff commented. “Do you want to tell us about it?”
I shook my head violently from side to side. “No. It’s gone. I’ve already forgotten all about it.” Or at least I was hoping to.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? Can I get you a drink? Warm milk? A Valium?” Cathy asked.
“Nah, just go on back to sleep. Sorry I woke you up.”
“Well, if you’re sure…”
I nodded and they left me to snuggle back down on the sofa. The sheets were still damp from my perspiration. Inky stared at me from a chair across the room and I was sure he was thinking, Of all the women in Seattle I had to end up with a lunatic.
The rest of the night I slept like the dead but at least I didn’t dream about them. My eyes blinked open in the morning with two gleaming thoughts. I had a hot date tonight and I had a dreaded baby shower to get through first.
Both Cathy and Jeff had to work so there was a lot more activity in the apartment at eight-thirty on a Saturday morning than I was used to.
Before he headed for the door, Jeff presented me with the gift basket that I was bringing to the shower. He carefully planted the huge basket on the coffee table in front of me. I couldn’t believe it. He’d totally fixed it. The blankets, bottles, booties and other B-is-for-Baby items had been somehow suspended and arranged tidily inside the basket so that it now appeared full and tastefully done. The wrap had been stretched tightly over the huge basket and tendrils of ribbon curled delicately down from the large bow.
“Wow. I don’t know what to say.” I reached out to tentatively touch the cellophane wrap. “You must’ve worked all night on this.”
“Not all night.” Jeff grinned sheepishly. He reached out and straightened the bow with obvious pride. “When I lived in L.A. I used to earn extra bucks at a mall gift-wrapping at Christmastime. Guess I learned a few things.”
“Well, thanks.” I flashed him the biggest smile I could muster before my morning coffee. “I’m actually looking forward to going to the baby shower now.” Not!
He waved my thanks away with a flutter of his effeminate hand and made his way out the door to head for the Scrying Room.
Cathy scooted over to me, stainless steel travel coffee mug clenched tightly in her fist.
“Gotta go.” She glanced at her watch. “There’s coffee made, turn off the pot when you’re done.” She pecked my cheek and I guiltily noticed the dark circles under her eyes as she patted the top of Inky’s head. “It was fun having you stay for a two-night pj party, but next time leave Inky with me and you bunk with Jen, okay?”
“Deal.”
“Oh, by the way, when I couldn’t get back to sleep last night, I solved your wardrobe problem for your date with Lucien.”
“You went out shopping at 3:00 a.m.?”
“No, I went through my own closet.” She held up a hand in a stopping motion to halt my protests. “I know my skirts won’t fit you but I’m pretty sure a couple of my blouses will because…” She glanced obviously from her C bust to my A and shrugged. “Anyway, you have that nice black wool skirt, right?”
“Yeah, but it’s an office skirt, not a date skirt.”
She shook her head, “Take the blouses I laid out on my bed and try them on with that skirt. One of them is bound to work. Open an extra button and show a little cleavage.” She glanced back to my chest. “Wear your WonderBra.”
I was glad to return to my own building to find that my apartment looked great and smelled great. Mole Man had done a superb job of repairing the leak and cleaning up afterward. He’d even left me a note stating that he’d also discovered a problem with my showerhead and had replaced it. I checked. It was one of those detachable shower massages that made a man optional. It was almost enough to make me feel guilty for blackmailing my landlord.
It was a soothing feeling to make the three trips from my car to my apartment carting in all my stuff without worrying about Mrs. Sumner poking her head out her door to give me the evil eye.
I hung up the blouses that Cathy loaned me and although I was tempted to try them on, they’d have to wait until after the baby shower. I fed Inky and asked him his opinion about what to wear to the shower. His answer was to give himself a tongue bath so I took a guess and changed into navy pants and a cream sweater. I brushed my hair, refusing to attack it with a curling iron before my date.
I noticed the light on my answering machine was blinking angrily. The message was from Lucien, who stated he’d pick me up at seven for our dinner. I would’ve had to do deep breathing exercises to calm myself, however, after his message there was a blast of angry messages from Lina. I sighed and dialed her number.
“Where the hell have you been?”
“My apartment was flooded, remember? I’ve been bunking at Cathy’s while it got deflooded.”
She blew a long breath into the receiver. “Don’t you check your messages? Okay, I’m not going to nag, I’m just glad you’re okay.”
I felt a pinch of guilt. “I’m sorry you were worried. I’m fine.”
“I know a little about that group that calls themselves the Scarab Sentry. They tend to mark themselves with tattoos in the likeness of the scarab beetle. From what I understand the tattoo is usually between the thumb and forefinger of the right hand so it’ll be obvious,” she blurted nervously.
“Okay, so you want me to watch out for vacant-eyed guys who have tattoos of bugs on their hands. Got it,” I joked.
Poignant pause. “Tabitha, this is not funny. You’re in danger.”
I could hear the distinct flutter of cards being pressed to a table and had an image of the Tarot arranged before her.
“Put your cards away, Lina, they don’t solve anything.”
“I don’t have my cards in front of me but I used them earlier.” Another pause. “But you can see them, can’t you? The Devil card? The Tower?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut to stop myself from seeing anything.
“I gotta go, Lina, I’m late for a baby shower. Unless you want to tell me I shouldn’t go because a pregnant woman with vacant eyes is gonna get me.” I drew in a breath and let it out. “Sorry. I know you’re just trying to help. I promise I’ll be careful but I do have to go.” I hung up the phone and waved goodbye to Inky.
It was just after twelve when I made it to Fremont. I drove past numerous funky shops, microbreweries and street artists displaying their wares in a rare moment of October sunshine. I found myself wishing I was there in June to watch the annual Solstice Parade that featured stilt walkers, colorful floats and, of course, nude bikers. Instead, it was fall and I was hunting for a parking space in an area of expensive condominium apartments that rented monthly for a third of my annual salary.
I sat at a red light in my small Ford Escort squeezed in between a HumVee and a Suburban. One swerving motion from either vehicle and I’d be a pancake. The light turned green and I punched the accelerator to move ahead in traffic. After circling the block three times I saw a black Honda nosing out of a spot ahead. After cutting off two sports cars and receiving a retort of horns and hand gestures, I wedged my small car into a spot only a block away from my destination.
I hefted the immense gift basket from the passenger seat and trudged up the street. I buzzed the trendy condo security button and was greeted by a woman’s flat voice telling me to “Come on up.”
Up I went, cursing the fact that I’d chosen the stairs while clumsily hauling this behemoth basket. If it was not for the clear plastic wrap, I would not have been able to see in front of me. Since my hands were occupied I kicked softly at the door to number 302.
“Oh, my God, is there someone behind this thing?” a voice blurted, then the basket was tugged from my grasp and I was looking up into the birdlike face of a tall stern woman of about sixty. She wore a linen suit and an expression that looked as though someone was holding a small turd under her beak of a nose.
“Hello, I’m Tabitha Emery. I’m here for the shower.”
“Oh, is that a fact? I guess that would explain this thing.” Bird Woman turned and grunted under the weight of my gift, choosing to plunk it down on a mahogany hall table.
I noted her slurred speech and it occurred to me that Bird Woman was royally tanked.
“Tabitha!” I heard Martha’s voice followed by the clickety clack of her heels as she waddled high-speed toward me wearing a fuchsia-colored tent that billowed around her. She embraced me in a suffocating hug and breathed in my ear, “I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Well sure, I told you I’d come.”
She dragged me by the hand to the living room that was a large airy space with an entire wall of windows. Light flooded the room through the opened drapes and shone on a sofa sectional, a dozen folding chairs, a table heavily laden with food and only one other person. A smaller, younger version of bird woman. I glanced down at my watch. It was twelve-fifteen.
“Am I early? The invitation did say twelve, didn’t it?”
Martha’s smile was wide and strained. “No. You’ve got it right. The shower started at noon. Unfortunately we’ve had a number of last-minute cancellations. People are just so busy these days, you know?”
Oh, this ought to be a ton of fun.
Martha clapped her hands loudly and I jumped.
“Okaaay,” she began, her voice a pitch higher than I was used to. “Let’s start with some introductions, shall we?”
She pulled me by the hand again and brought me toward Short Bird Lady and Tall Bird Lady who were now standing at the buffet filling their plates.
“This is my sister-in-law Sandra Martel,” Martha said to me. “And my mother-in-law Gina Martel.”
“Mom, Sis, I’d like you to meet my best friend in the world, Tabitha Emery.”
Her what? I stared at Martha who gave me a pleading, please-play-along-with-this look.
Both ladies offered me identical dismissive glances before returning to load their plates.
“Help yourself,” Martha trilled, handing me a china plate. “We’ve got a pile of food just waiting to be eaten.”
“And booze,” Sandra the bird lady said with a mean giggle. “Thank God for the booze.”
“Oh, yes.” Martha nodded her head bobbing forcefully on her neck. “There’s wine, fruit punch and if you want something stronger I’ve got a liquor cabinet filled with more.”
“So this is your place?” I asked.
That got a guffaw and a snigger out of Gina Martel. “She’s your best friend and she hasn’t even seen where you live?”
The way I saw it I could either jump on the obvious we-hate-Martha bandwagon, or rescue my co-worker and possibly even simultaneously secure my promotion.
I never thought I’d feel this way, but I actually felt sorry for Martha. “So happens Martha here usually comes over to my place. It’s just more convenient. That way we don’t have to bother…” I looked to Martha for help.
“Dave,” she offered.
“Right. Dave. That way all our noisy girly talk doesn’t bother Dave.” I snagged Martha by the elbow. “Could I talk to you in the kitchen for a second? You can show me that new thing you said you bought.”
“Sure,” Martha said, her happy voice nearly cracking under the strain.
I steered Martha in the direction of the kitchen and once we were behind closed doors I started in.
“What the hell is all this?”
She let out a snort that sounded dangerously close to turning into tears. “It’s my baby shower.”
“What happened to all the other guests?”
“I don’t have a lot of friends,” she stated, playing nervously with a strand of hair. “This was supposed to be a surprise for me thrown by Dave’s family but when I found out about it, I invited a couple of my friends just in case this happened.”
“You expected nobody to show?”
She looked defeated and wearily leaned against the kitchen counter. “His family doesn’t like me very much. It all kind of started when I refused to change my name when we got married.”
My lips tugged up into a smile. “You mean they don’t get why you wouldn’t want to be called Martha Martel?”
She giggled. “No. They don’t get that.”
We were quiet a moment. “So, you’re not expecting anyone else?”
She hesitated and shook her head. “Well, Jen couldn’t come and the only other person I invited was Sonya Suderman from the office and she called to say there was a sale at JCPenney that she couldn’t miss.”
“You invited The Bitch?” I asked, dumbfounded.
She smirked. “Yeah. You must think I’m pathetic, don’t you?” Her eyes were brimming with tears and suddenly I did think she was pathetic and I didn’t mind so much that I hadn’t had good sex in a long time. That’s the good thing about being in an extremely awkward situation like this—it made you believe that your own wretched excuse of a life wasn’t nearly so bad, after all.
“I’ve got an idea and we’re getting out of here.” I nodded toward the living room. “Grab your coat and wait for me by the door.”
With determination I strolled in the direction of the two bird ladies and announced conspiratorially, “I’m sorry, ladies, but there seems to be a bit of a problem. You see, I’m actually throwing a baby shower for Martha at my place. I was just coming to pick her up. At this very moment my apartment is filled with a dozen women waiting to jump up and scream ‘Surprise.’”
Sandra narrowed her eyes. “Then why did you bring that big gift over here?”
I shook my head. “To throw her off, of course, if I brought her a baby gift the last thing she’s going to suspect is that I’m taking her to a baby shower.”
Gina looked skeptical. “Well then, where does she think she’s going?”
Good question. “Um, I told her we had a big emergency at the office that only she can solve and that I’ll bring her right back.” I may not be quick on my feet but I can lie like a champion.
“Okay, Martha,” I said loudly. “We’d better go take care of that office emergency. I’ll bring you back as soon as possible.” I gave an exaggerated wink to the ladies staring after us and we were gone.
While on the way to my car I explained the line I’d given to her in-laws about a baby shower at my place.
Snuggled cozily into the passenger seat of my car Martha asked the obvious. “Now what?”
“I have no idea.” I turned my key in the ignition. “Where would you like to go?”
She considered this a minute then answered firmly, “Your place.”
“My place?”
“Yes. We can sit around. Have some girly talk—that kind of stuff.”
“You know, Martha, my place may not be such a good idea. It’s small. As a matter of fact, compared to your condo there, it’s a dump.”
“That isn’t my place. It’s Dave’s. He had it since before we were married and we have a prenup that says he gets it back if we ever divorce. Before we were married I lived in a basement suite in Renton.”
“My place it is.”
It wasn’t nearly as awkward having Martha in my apartment as I thought it would be. She made herself comfortable on my sofa, put her feet on my coffee table and held Inky on her lap. It was strange to think that a person I despised from nine to five Monday to Friday could actually be someone I almost liked outside of that time slot.
“So can I get you anything?” I thought back to the huge amount of food at her place and wished I’d eaten there. I began rifling through my cupboards. “How about some microwave popcorn?”
“Sure.”
A few minutes later we were sitting in my living room munching popcorn and sipping soda. The telephone rang and it was Jenny.
“You managed to escape the shower early, good for you,” Jenny cheered.
“Yeah, well, I’ve actually got Martha here with me.”
“Kidnapping is a federal offence, Tab, and so is murder.”
“The kidnapping was mutual. Her shower was bumming us both out, so we left.”
“She’s not holding a gun to you, is she?”
“No!”
“Oh. I guess since she’s sitting right there you can fill me in on the details tomorrow when you’re also telling me all about your date. Have you decided what to wear yet?”
“Cathy loaned me a couple blouses to go with my black skirt.”
“Good idea. I’m only going to say one word, Tabitha…cleavage.”
I hung up and said to Martha, “I’ve got a date tonight and no idea what to wear so would you mind giving me your opinion on a couple outfits?”
“I’d love that!”
And because she looked like she meant it, I grabbed a few things from my closet and began a fashion show. Half an hour later, Martha had decided on my black skirt and a sheer style black blouse that was one of Cathy’s. I wasn’t so sure about the shirt.
I glanced down at my chest. With the help of my WonderBra, my cup and cleavage now runneth over. “Don’t you think it’s a little snug?”
Martha said seriously, “Yep, I’m sure that’s the first thing this Lucien guy is going to complain about. He’s definitely going to say, Honey, you’ve got far too much of your breasts showing. Why, I’ll bet he’ll march you right back home to put on a turtleneck!”
We laughed until we cried.
Just after five Martha had to go on account of she needed to cook dinner for hubby. Though she would’ve taken a cab I didn’t mind driving her. It helped to kill some time that I would’ve normally spent agonizing over my upcoming date. I managed to secure a parking spot directly in front of her building.
“Look, Tabitha, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you for today.”
“For what? Kidnapping you from your own baby shower and forcing you to come to my dump and eat microwave popcorn?”
“You know what I mean. It was nice of you.” She smiled and then her smile turned to wonder as she placed a hand on her ample belly. “She’s doing the wave or something.”
“You know it’s a girl?”
“Nah, I refused to let them tell me when I had my ultrasound. I want it to be a surprise, you know?” Her eyes opened wide. “Oh, that was a good one! She’s a real kicker. Here.” She grabbed my hand and placed it on the side of her abdomen. “If you keep your fingers right there, you’ll feel it.”
I felt it all right. My head went woozy and a horrible picture flared in my mind.
“Is there something wrong with your eyes?”
“Huh?” I yanked my hand back from her stomach. “Um, Martha, you see a doctor regularly, right?”
“Yeah, of course. Now that I’m only a few weeks away I have to see my OB-GYN every week.” Her eyes flew to search mine. “Wait a second, was that one of your premonition things? Is there something wrong with my baby?” Her arms wrapped protectively over her stomach.
“Look, Martha,” I faltered, “sometimes I get a feeling about things but they’re not always accurate or anything.” Lie number one. “I’m sure everything is just fine with the little guy.” Lie number two.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.” Three strikes and I’m out. “But to be on the safe side, will you promise me you’ll see your OB-GYN right away? Get him to do another one of those ultrasound things.”
She all but tripped over herself running from my car and into her building.
“You really know how to end an afternoon, Tabitha.” I admonished myself with a heavy sigh.
At five minutes before seven, it was time to take stock. I’d brushed my teeth once. Changed my clothes twice. Reapplied my makeup three times. Checked the black skirt, black sheer blouse and black sling-backs for the umpteenth time. As far as I was concerned if I could keep myself busy right up until Lucien arrived I wouldn’t become a nervous wreck. I caught a glimpse of my panicked reflection in the bathroom mirror and sighed. Too late. I was beyond panicked—I was terrified. And now that I was dressed I couldn’t even sit down for fear of attracting every cat hair in the place.
I called Jenny.
“Help, I can’t sit down!”
“Why, is your ass broken?” she asked and laughed.
“No, there’s cat hair everywhere and if I sit it’ll stick to me like glue.”
“So stand.”
“I feel like I’m going to pass out.”
“How long has it been since you had a date?”
“Um, well, um…”
“That long, huh? Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. He’s just a man. Remember that and you’ll do fine. How do you look?”
“Fine.”
“Fine or hot?”
“Not sizzling hot but I’d say marginally warm.”
“Okay, take a deep breath. Did you remember your lucky purse?”
“No! Oh, my God, I almost forgot my lucky date purse!” I yelped. At my outburst Inky dived for cover under my sofa bed. Obviously, he had no concept of the importance of my revelation.
“Get your lucky purse and you’ll be fine.”
I reached up into the far recesses of my closet and pulled down the slim black leather Ferragamo knockoff, sighed and hugged it to my chest.
“Okay, I’ve got it.”
“Sounds like you’re ready to go. If anything goes wrong or if you end up in the sack with this guy, call me!”
“Are you going to be at home?”
“Tab, it’s Saturday night. I’d have to be dead to be at home. I’ll keep my cell on vibrate. If you can’t reach me, call Lara, she’s got a night off from the Megaplex tonight.”
“Where are you and Gerry going tonight?”
“Who said anything about Gerry?”
“But I thought he was the one.”
“He was the one. The one I caught stealing twenty bucks from my purse on our last date.”
“Oh. Sorry to hear that. So who’s your date for tonight?”
“John.”
“The dentist?”
“No, that was Nick.”
“I thought Nick was the shoe salesman.”
“That was Harry. I haven’t told you about John. I just met him in the laundry room.”
I paused. “Jen, don’t you ever get tired of dating every John, Nick and Harry?”
“No. It’s far better than the alternative.”
“What’s the alternative?”
“Being alone.”
We said our goodbyes and I transferred the necessities from my work purse to my lucky date purse—lipstick, tissue and forty dollars emergency cab fare. Then I spotted the empty bottle of painkiller meds with a smile. That empty bottle had been my escape on more than one bad date.
Act one, scene one…riffles through handbag with pained expression. Line one, Oh, dear, I’ve run out of migraine pills, I’m afraid you’ll have to take me home. Disappointing pout followed by, Just when we were having such a wonderful time, too. I’m so sorry.
With a smile I tucked the empty bottle in the corner of the small handbag and then it hit, the faint aroma of tobacco. I brought the handbag up to my face and sucked in the cologne of Virginia Slims. This was going to be my first official date as a nonsmoker. How would I survive it?
A sharp rap at the door made me jump. I walked across the room repeating the mantra, He’s just a man. He’s just a man. He’s just—I opened the door—a very, very sexy man.
He wore charcoal-colored pants, a cream linen shirt that exposed a thatch of dark chest hair and a grin that made me want to drag his ass directly to my bed.
“Hi, Lucien.”
“Hi, yourself.” His eyes raked over me. “You look great.”
He handed me a single red rose and I brought the bloom to my nose and inhaled. It was almost as nice as the smell of tobacco in my purse.
“Thou art fairer than the evening air clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.”
I composed myself and found I still had the ability to speak.
“Thanks. I think. I’ll just put this in a vase.”
“Oh, and I didn’t forget about you,” Lucien said, crossing my apartment to scratch Inky under his chin. He pulled out a small red ball that had a tiny bell inside and tossed it to the floor. Inky promptly sprang forward and enthusiastically hunted his new toy.
“You wouldn’t be trying to get me into bed by bribing my cat, would you?”
“Is it working?”
Oh, yeah, baby. I just smiled.
“If it’s that easy, then I believe it was definitely worth the dollar-fifty and the trip to the pet shop.” He snagged my sweater from the coatrack and held it out for me. When I put my arms inside his fingers brushed against my neck and made me shiver.
I don’t know why being around Lucien made my nerves ping and my stomach clench but it did. My reaction to all the pinging and clenching was to start chatting. By the time Lucien had pulled his red Saab away from the curb my mouth was already moving at fifty miles an hour with gusts of up to one hundred. I had verbal diarrhea and though I realized it, I couldn’t seem to stop it.
While my tongue wagged on I was aware we were driving into the area of Seattle known as Capitol Hill. As my tongue sprinted out trivia we drove down bustling streets. When my mouth spilled out nonsense we were passing cafés and markets and when my lips prattled out endless small talk we were driving by quaint cafés. However, when the Saab came to a stop on the interlocking brick driveway of an older home on a residential street my mouth froze, at least for one full second.
Lucien came around to the passenger side, opened my door and I stared up at him.
“What is this place?”
“This?” He turned and glanced at the house as if seeing it for the first time. “This is a 1909 Dutch colonial.”
“I can see that.” Well, actually I couldn’t see that because I didn’t know a Dutch colonial from a vintage Victorian but that was beside the point. I got out of the car and nodded toward the house. “What I mean is, why are we here?”
He cocked his head to one side. “For dinner. I did invite you to dinner, remember?”
I blew out an exasperated breath. “This is your house then?”
“Of course it’s mine.” He wrapped one of his warm hands around mine and tugged me up the walk. “I wouldn’t bring you to someone else’s home. At least not on our first date.”
“You never mentioned we were going to your place,” I stated and nervously nibbled my bottom lip. “I thought we were going to a restaurant.” He’d obviously tricked me.
We reached the solid oak front door and he dug out his keys. “First of all, I am a far better cook than most you’ll find at any local restaurants.” He placed his key in the lock and turned. “Second, you didn’t exactly give me a chance to tell you where I was taking you.” He placed a hand on my lower back and guided me inside. “As a matter of fact, I do believe you’ve done more than enough small talk for both of us.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He lifted my chin with a tip of a finger. “With all that small talk out of the way we can get down to much more serious matters.”
I swallowed. “Like what?”
“Like can you toss a salad or are you better at pouring the wine?”
I smiled and felt a few drops of tension evaporate from my body.
“I can pour wine like nobody else.”
He winked. “I figured.”
The older home was spacious with lots of dark wood and vaulted ceilings. The furniture was an eclectic mix of antiques and overstuffed comfortable sofas and chairs. I followed him through the living room and into the kitchen. Here I was totally out of my element. It was a cook’s dream with a Sub-Zero refrigerator, gas range and slab granite counters. This was no wimpy, macaroni-and-cheese or microwaved dinner kitchen. This was a chicken cordon swiss or roast pheasant under glass kind of kitchen.
“You weren’t kidding about being a good cook, were you?”
“Tabitha, there are two things I never joke about, cooking—” he handed me a bottle of chilled white wine and a corkscrew “—and sex.”
“Oh.”
I stared at the bottle and the corkscrew. “Hey, I said I could pour wine. I never said anything about opening the bottle.”
Lucien popped the cork and I poured us each a glass. Then I pulled up a stool to his counter and proceeded to watch him slice, dice and stir with the fluid movements of a dancer. Watching his body move and smelling the fragrance of whatever he was making made me crave both food and sex in a way that was making me more than ravenous for both. Of course, it didn’t help that I had only eaten microwave popcorn that day and was quickly making my way through my second glass of wine.
While he slid a small roaster of something in the oven he asked about my life. He picked and probed for details in a way that didn’t feel like he was being nosy, even though he was. When he looked at me he seemed to absorb everything I told him, making it all the easier for me to spill out the dirty bits of my life to him.
While we ate he commented, “I don’t believe you really hate your mother. You’re angry with her because she had an affair that took her away from your father when he needed her most. You also feel guilty that you couldn’t save your dad, even though you had a premonition of his death. Your mother is a reminder of that guilt.” Lucien offered me another warm roll which I turned down because I didn’t want him to think I was a pig. Even though I’d already scarfed down a Caesar salad and two helpings of seafood lasagna.
I washed down the last mouthful of my lasagna with a slurp of dry wine and smiled at him over my glass.
“Okay, Dr. Freud, I’ve played your game and answered your questions long enough. Now it’s your turn.”
He got up from the table, took my hand and led me to the living room. He gently pressed me into a comfortable sofa while he began building a fire in the fireplace.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he said smoothly.
I sank back into the sofa opposite the fireplace and tried to relax but just watching Lucien bend at the waist while he got the fire started already had me overheated. I tried looking at the ceiling then at the walls to distract myself.
“You’ve got interesting decorating tastes,” I remarked noticing the mahogany shadow boxes that held an assortment of items that lined a wall to my right.
“I also have a fascinating taste in women,” he javelined back while slipping dangerously close to me on the sofa.
“Don’t change the subject,” I chided, nervously inching back to my corner of the couch. Sheesh, I really wanted to have his hands on me one minute and the next I cowered like a virgin. “Um, you’re supposed to tell me all about yourself. It’s your turn, remember?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Well, how did you get interested in opening a metaphysical store for starters?
He walked to the kitchen and returned with our wineglasses.
“I’ve been running the Scrying Room for just under a year. My brother had it for five years before that. When he died of cancer last year he left it to me.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your brother.”
“Thanks.”
“What did you do before that?”
“I’m a carpenter by trade.”
“Did you ever consider selling the store?”
“At first, but the clientele intrigued me and the longer I was there the more I enjoyed it. Besides I still get to do carpentry, I just do it as a hobby instead. Like remodeling this house. What else would you like to know?”
How about whether that package in your pants is as impressive as it looks? I gulped some wine from my glass.
“How about the rest of your family?”
“My mother lives in San Diego, where I grew up. I’ve never known my father.” He slid a little closer to me on the sofa and rested a hand on my knee. “What else?”
My heart skipped in my chest at his touch. “Um. Have you always had an interest in the paranormal and pagan rituals?”
“Have you?”
“I don’t.”
Lucien only smiled and moved his hand from my knee to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. He took the wine-glass from my hand and put it next to his on the coffee table in front of us.
Alarm bells began to jangle inside my head as he leaned closer.
I blurted out, “What about school?”
“What about it?”
“Well, did you go to college? If you did, was it in San Diego or did you—”
“No more talking,” he whispered hoarsely and bent toward me.
Out of fear and panic my hand went to his chest to stop him but his fingers simply linked in mine and brought my hand to his lips. He kissed every finger while his hot carbon eyes drilled a lusty gaze into mine. The fear was still there but it was quickly being engulfed by desire. I wanted him to kiss me. Hell, who was I kidding? I wanted him to drag me to his bed and make me forget my name. Then I wanted to make him forget his name.
He released my hand and it dropped to my lap while he lowered his lips to mine with painstaking slowness. I’d been holding my breath so long there was a ringing in my ears. When it persisted, the clamor began to cut through my haze.
“Your phone is ringing,” I breathed against his lips that were a scant inch from mine.
“Let it ring.”
I pulled back. “It could be important.”
He sighed and got up from the sofa. His feet impatiently ate up the floor in the direction of the kitchen where I heard him snatch up the receiver and bark out a hello.
I uncoiled myself from the sofa and shook off the fog of lust. Slow. We had to go slower. I couldn’t just jump in bed with him on our first date, could I? I shook my head. Of course not. No matter how much I wanted to.
His words drifted in from the kitchen. The tone was heated, insistent and cutting.
“No, Heather, I can’t talk now I’m busy. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I got up and paced in front of the fireplace.
“There, now you see?” I whispered, reprimanding myself. He probably has an entire chorus line of other women calling him. Heather on the other end of the line was probably a tall sexy blonde with big boobs and sex toys.
I pushed the thought aside and roughly focused my eyes on the shadow boxes that hung in decoration along the wall. The first displayed two decoratively carved wands. Apparently, Lucien believed in taking work home with him.
I heard him hang up the phone and I sidestepped to take a look at the next shadow box. I folded my arms in front of my chest and tilted my head to appear casual. I posed myself in a relaxed stance that said I didn’t care that he was talking to another girl while my body still ached for him to kiss me. Nope. I didn’t care. In fact, I was just standing here staring with fascination at this bronze-handled Wiccan ceremonial dagger. The knife was nestled against black velvet inside the shadow box and its ornate handle and scabbard were adorned with ruby inlays. My eyes locked on the sharp double-edged blade.
I sensed Lucien was beside me and vaguely knew he spoke just as my world slowly oozed to black.