Take Me I'm Yours (Coffee House Chronicles) (19 page)

Despite her wish not to, she glanced his way to see his mouth clamped and his eyes fixed on her. She searched his gaze and nothing about his look told her he was lying. He seemed to be telling her the truth.

“Yeah, right.”

The
walk sign finally flashed and she started across the street. Ethan stepped off the curb with her. But Ethan still followed, trying to convince her Graeme was a bad guy. Why hadn’t Graeme bothered to follow her? At this point she wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. She was so enraged, she turned on Ethan and gave him a violent shove backward.

“Leave me alone!”

He stumbled a few steps but maintained his balance. His face fell. He held out his hands in surrender. “I swear it’s true.”

Turning, she darted away, hurrying faster and reaching into her handbag for her phone.

“Marion, I’m not lying. Not this time.” He snagged her arm and pulled her to a stop, holding her in place. His expression stilled and grew serious. “Graeme’s had a string of girlfriends over the last few years. They never last more than a few months. He gets tired of them and breaks up with them before they can get serious. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Wasn’t that ironic? He was the only one who’d managed to hurt her.

That lump formed again in her throat. She swallowed hard, forcing it away. Ethan’s voice was starting to get on her nerves. She wanted away from the leech because he was sucking dry all her energy. She couldn’t stand to be around him another second.

“Well, then, congratulate yourself for telling me the truth and saving me from beco
ming another girl on the list.”

Shoving him off
, she turned on the toe of her new black flats and darted up the street.

“Marion
!” he called. “Wait!”

“No!” she shouted over her shoulder. Glancing behind her, she could see he still follow
ed her. Couldn’t the man take a hint?

“Marion,
let me at least take you home.” To her horror, he trotted after her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged him off.

“No way. You’re not getting within a foot of my house. You stay away from me.” She poked him in the chest with all her anger, making him wince and step back. He looked so hurt, so lost. But she wasn’t going to fall for it. Not again. “I’ll call a cab. And thank you very much for all the information you’ve given me today.”

She sped up, walking as rapidly as she could in the early heat of the day. Ethan lagged behind finally and stopped. She saw him looking forlorn as she rounded a corner and stopped, pressing her back against a
building to catch her breath.

Humiliation, anger, frustration…all these emotions ran through her. Her head fell back against the hard brick of the building and suddenly that’s all she wanted to do—pound her head against the wall
.

Her breath hitched as she reached into her handbag for her cell phone.
The only person in the world who could understand was her best friend. As Delilah’s phone rang, the tears started to flow.

“Mar? What’s up?”

But her only response was a hitched sob.

* * * * *

“It’s too damn bad we can’t kill the bastards.” Delilah plucked the olive off the toothpick that had only moments ago resided in her dirty martini.

Marion told Delilah the whole sordid tale over dinner at their favorite Mexican restaurant. She swirled her straw in her frozen margarita and
pushed the last two bites of her chicken flautas around on her plate. She finished pouring her heart out to her best friend and sucked the remaining frozen treat from her glass. The waiter walked by and she flagged him down, ordering another round.

“It really is,” Marion agreed. She had though
t the very same thing.

“Assholes,” Delilah said around a mouthful of olive. “Both of them.” She took a healthy swig of her martini before forking
enchilada. “I sure hope Ethan is proud of himself for telling you Graeme’s romantic history.”

“The thing is…I think he
was
proud.” Marion pushed rice around on her nearly empty plate. “The whole time he was following me through downtown, he had this sad-eyed look on his face. Like he was sorry he said anything but not sorry enough.”

“And probably even sorrier you didn’t come ru
nning back to him. That prick.”

Delilah was never one to mince words. She always told it like it was and everyone knew where they stood with her. One of her favorite sayings was
,
everyone is entitled to my opinion
. And it was very true of her best friend.

“
Do you think he made the whole thing up about the girlfriends?” Delilah asked. “Just to get back into your pants?”

“
That’s the thing. I think he really
was
telling me the truth about Graeme and his string of women,” Marion said. “That’s why Graeme punched him.”

“I would have given my left arm to see that.” Delilah sighed wistfully.
“So what about Graeme?”

“What about him?” Marion shrugged. She didn’t see any point in
trying to contact him anymore.

“You know what about him. You’re going
to see him again, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Mar, just because he’s had a very active relationship life doesn’t mean you guys can’t have some fun together. And who knows…maybe you’re the one he’s been waiting for all this time. Maybe you’re the one who can tame the beast, so to speak.”

Marion’s fork clattered to the plate as she stared
across the table in disbelief at her friend. “Who are you again?”

Delilah sipped her drink, refusing to answe
r.

“This from the person who didn’t want me to get involved with him,” Marion
said. “What gives?”

“Nothing. I think you m
ake a nice couple. That’s all.”

“Okay, that’s the nice fluffy answer. Now stop with the b
ullshit and tell me the truth.”

Delilah
put down her glass and leaned forward. “I saw you two at the gallery. The way he looked at you and the way you looked at him? Sparks. So many sparks in fact, I thought the whole place was going to catch on fire.” She exploded her hands to animate her point.

Marion sat back in the
booth, crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “I am somewhat less than amused.”

“He’s so hot for you, it’s not even funny.”

“But he lied to me about his website business.” She leaned forward, glaring, feeling that anger again. She wanted to know
why
he’d lied.

“A minor technicality.” Delilah waved it away, as if it were nothing.

“And his past history with girlfriends.”

“So?”

“But—”

“Mar, I’m sure there is a perfectly good explanation. He probably didn’t want to tell you
about the business because maybe he’s a little embarrassed about it. Obviously, he makes good money at it. And obviously, he’s gotten some great sex with hot broads from it. But so what? You’re no prude by any stretch of the imagination. And besides, are you going to deny it wasn’t the most exciting sex of your life?”

True, she wasn’t a prude and she really didn’t care what sort of websites he designed for a living. It was the mere fact he
seemed to hide it from her that bothered her. Even though he was open and honest with her about everything else. Well, except for the art thing. He hid that from her too.

Maybe, she mused, he was waiting for the right time to tell her. To let her in on the secret and explain why he wanted to keep it under wraps. Maybe his artist personae didn’t quite match his website personae and there would be dire consequen
ces if the two worlds collided.

And okay, so he’s had quite a few girlfriends. And he seemed to practice safe sex…except with her. She shoved away that thought immediately. She wouldn’t th
ink about that. Not right now.

“Anyway, I’d kind of like to see these websites of his.” Delilah gave her a devilish grin.

“Delilah!” she couldn’t pretend for one second she was scandalized by the thought. She knew her friend all too well.

“
Don’t you want to see them?”

“No!”
She shook her head.

Delilah chuckled, and then said,
“By the way, how
was
the sex? You never bothered to give me the juicy details.”

Marion made sure to leave out all the details of their encounters, especially the tidbit about him sketching her naked. The memory of their night and morning flashed through her mind now. Graeme on top of her, rising up ever so slightly to look down between them and see
him sliding in and out of her.

She shook her head, pushing away the
unwanted image. “It was fine.”

“Liar.” Her friend leaned forward. “You promised
me all the details. Remember?”

“That was before.”

“Before what? Before you decided he was unworthy?” Delilah looked disappointed. “Come on, Mar. I haven’t had sex in nearly three months. I’m hard up. Please share.”

“What about Mr. GQ?”

“That guy at the gallery?” Delilah asked and Marion nodded. “A dud.” She waved her hand, dismissing him. “Couldn’t kiss for shit. If he doesn’t know his way around my mouth, then he won’t know his way around my clit.”

“Nice.”
Marion scowled but couldn’t stifle the grin that crept over her face.

“I’m waiting.”

Heat rose to Marion’s cheeks. How could she tell her friend about the incredibly hot sex followed by a morning-after sketching session and then even more hot sex? Delilah leaned across the table toward her.

“You have a dreamy l
ook on your face. So spill it.”

“It was great, actually.” She could remember the way he smelled as if he were right
next to her. “He’s good at it.”

“And…?” she prompted, one tawny eyebrow raised.

“And he made me come six times.”

“Only six?”
Disappointment flooded Delilah’s face.

“I stopped counting, actually.”
Marion flushed, her face burning hot.

“Better. What else?”

“And he…does this thing with his tongue that’s fantastic.”

“On your—”

“Yeah.”

“Right.” Delilah sat back again, expelling a breath. “There’s nothing hotter than a man who knows how to do that
just right
.” She had a dreamy look on her face.

“And I let him sketch me.” There. She said it. Blurted it out actually, without
thinking about it too much.

“You did?”

Marion swirled the straw in her glass. She couldn’t stop thinking about the things she’d done for him and to him. The things he’d done for her and to her. She glanced across the table at her friend who didn’t seem the least bit surprised.

“Well? You’re not surprised?”

“Not really.”

“Ooo-kay.”

“Mar, are you daft? Didn’t you realize that one painting in the gallery called
Black-Eyed Girl
was you?”

Marion was too startled by the statement to object. She
remembered the painting. It was the one Jon tried so valiantly to sell her. The one that was so different from the others. Marion would have thought Delilah was kidding, except there wasn’t even the hint of a smile on her face. A cold shiver crept up her spine.

“Seriously?” Her voice nearly came out a squeak
.

Delilah rolled her eyes. “You didn’t notice?”

“No…”

“Oh, girl. How could you not? It was so obvious to me that was you.”

“How would he…I mean, the man at the gallery said it was one of his earlier works.”

They stared at each other in silence, each processing the information. If Graeme had paint
ed that a year or two ago, then—

“Oh, my God!” Delilah said, her voice nearly a shout. “He’s in love with you!”
She clapped as if cheering for the big L-word.

“No way!” Marion immediately dismissed the thought, shaking her head. “There’s no way in
hell
, Delilah. I was engaged to his best friend.”

“And it makes perfect sense
, too, now that I think about it. You three were inseparable. You, Ethan, Graeme. You’d tell me how the three of you went to the movies or dinner or whatever. And that Graeme would visit you two a lot. Yeah?”

“Well…yeah.”

Marion had never thought much of it, Graeme hanging around. She thought he and Ethan were the two that were inseparable. He was going to be the best man in their wedding.

“Don’t you see? He painted you from his memory.
I think that’s incredibly romantic.” Now Delilah sighed wistfully. Which was really not like her. She wasn’t a romantic.