"So these buildings on First Street are original?"
"Yes. With a considerable amount of restoration and maintenance, as you can imagine."
"Do you know what any of them were?"
I pointed to a two-story wooden building on the river side of the street that housed a sandwich and pie shop. "I believe that was a tavern. And the one next to it a bordello."
Paul regarded both establishments briefly, then shook his head once. "You're making that up."
I looked up at him, wide-eyed, blinked, and fought to keep my mouth from turning up in a smile.
"Look at you – you can't lie and keep a straight face!"
The laughter leaked out. "I am. But it sounds good."
He chuckled and took my hand as we crossed the street. Stepping onto the curb he released my hand, placing his on the small of my back as if to guide me. His touch was light, but lingered. I held my breath. Maybe he just liked the feel of my cashmere sweater. With my pulse flying, I imitated his gesture, barely touching him as I slid my arm around his waist. I could turn it into a "you first" kind of movement, if necessary.
Ah, no. Not necessary.
His arm settled across my back and his fingers cupped my waist with a brief, acknowledging pressure. A headiness surged through my veins. As I settled my hand more securely on his waist I tripped on a bump in the sidewalk. In an instant I grabbed at his body with one hand and his belt buckle with my other. He steadied my sprawl with a two-armed embrace.
"I'm okay." The words tumbled out of my mouth before I'd regained my balance.
"You sure?"
"Yes, sorry." I unhanded his belt and snatched my hand from his waist. "I, um… I just saw the perfect Christmas present for Aunt Vi." I took a hurried step to a shop window where a porcelain tea set was displayed, gulping down my embarrassment.
"You start early." Paul stepped beside me and looked in the window. Humor touched his voice.
"I try to keep an eye out." I kept my gaze glued to the shop's display.
We continued along the sidewalk, occupying our own individual space, conversation nonexistent, pretending interest in the other store's we passed. But I couldn't stay away from him. He was like a magnet. I brushed against him twice, three times as we walked. The last time the backs of our hands touched. He didn't seem to notice.
Crossing the next side street, I summoned my courage and reached for his hand. His response was immediate. He engulfed my hand in his. Without a word, we stopped to look in a storefront window. I glanced up at his reflection, meeting his eyes in the glass.
When he turned from our reflection to me, my pulse leapt, and time hung suspended. Gently, he brushed my cheek with the tips of his fingers, and the caress drew me in. His gaze swept my features. This time there was no confusion. His eyes and touch conveyed an unmistakable statement. He wanted me.
Thea, this isn't… I slammed the lid down on my inner voice with a lift of my chin.
I wanted to kiss him so badly my lips ached. He accepted my invitation, kissing me with an electric, lingering, restraint that dismantled, down to the very foundations, any excuse that remained standing. With eyes closed, I drank in the exquisite, intoxicating tenderness of his soft lips, the delicious, warm, male scent of his skin. And when the kiss ended I opened my eyes and fell into his. He pulled my body into his, gentle at first, and led me into a kiss that fast became crazy with desperation to possess, consume. I didn't know where I stopped and he began and I didn't care. This was the kind of kiss I read about in trashy novels. The kind that can't be sated. The kind your mother never tells you about. The kind that makes the rest of the world disappear…
"I'm glad you found a way to occupy yourself this evening." The voice cracked through my consciousness like a shot.
Paul and I broke apart with an abruptness that made me reel.
"Jonathan," I said, gulping air. He didn't look very glad to see me.
"This must be Paul."
Should I introduce them? "Uh, yes. Paul, this is Jonathan."
"So I gather," Paul said. He sounded pretty unfriendly as well.
We were no longer attached to each other and were, in fact, standing several feet apart.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, still shocked and breathless.
"I came to talk to you, but you weren't home. I thought I'd walk around downtown a bit before I tried again. I can see there's no point in asking what you're doing." He was really angry. His nostrils flared. "I was planning on surprising you."
"I'm surprised."
"I meant surprising you in a pleasant way," he said, glowering.
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a little black box. My heart stopped, and not in a pleasant way. I glanced at Paul. His eyes were fixed on the awful thing. Jonathan flicked it open and three-quarters of Paul's annual salary leered back at us. Jonathan, the peacock in Armani, was strutting his enormous tail feathers like this was some kind of a courtship smackdown. I was beyond humiliated.
"I should go," Paul said. He wheeled and started to walk away.
"No – Paul, wait!" I made a grab for his arm.
He jerked his arm out of my reach and gave me a look so cold I froze in shock.
"I am not accustomed to taking another man's girlfriend." His eyes were narrow with anger, but his tone was emotionless.
"I am not his girlfriend." My tone was emphatic. "I'm -"
"Thea! How can you say that?" Jonathan said, his jaw slack. The indecent display of his virility still lay exposed in his hand.
Paul glanced at Jonathan then turned on me, his voice low and even. "You led me to believe you broke up with him."
Guilt took aim and got me dead on. "No! I mean -"
"You can't have it both ways."
"Well, of course she hasn't broken up with me." Jonathan sneered the words at Paul, but Paul's critical gaze remained on me.
I didn't even glance at Jonathan. "Yes – no. No. You don't understand. I -"
"I understand perfectly. You've been playing me ever since I drove you home last weekend."
"What? I've been what?" How did he come up with that notion? This was ridiculous. "How can you -? I don't 'play' with people!"
"Thea, explain yourself." Jonathan snapped the box shut and stuffed it back into his pocket. His hand closed on my arm, but I twisted out of his grip.
It took every ounce of self-control I had to block out Jonathan and maintain my focus on Paul, who was obviously suffering from a huge dose of egotistical misinformation. "You can't possibly believe -"
"I certainly can believe you've been maneuvering me ever since I met you," Paul accused, and nudged me right over the edge.
"You are out of your freaking mind." I leaned into the words. "The only thing I'm guilty of is being gullible. You've been playing Mr. Macho-rescue-the-poor-helpless-little-woman-I'll-bet-I-can-seduce-her-before-the-weekend-macho-guy, and I bought your whole sorry act!"
"All right. You want to discuss this now? How about you stop pretending -"
"Pretending?" I shrieked. My jaw went slack, then tightened to the point I could barely form words. "You, you, you – I'll tell you what you can do with -"
"Now listen here -"Jonathan stabbed a finger at the air.
"Stay out of this," I roared at him. "You've caused enough trouble already!"
"Thea, control yourself," Jonathan snapped. "You owe me an explanation. You owe me."
"I think you owe an explanation to him and me," Paul said. His jaw was so tight I thought he'd break a bone.
"I do? The drinks, the walk, the, the, it was your idea."
"Yeah? My idea? That's not exactly -"
"This is all my fault, I suppose? I just led you along by the, the nose? Men! You can't get past your hormones, can you? Oh, it's so easy to stick someone else with the responsibility – then you can do any damn thing you want!"
"Hey, I'm the offended party here!" Jonathan whined at high volume, darting left then right to get past Paul who somehow was able to keep his back to him.