A Taste of Magic (18 page)

Somehow, I’d have to find a way to make them both happy. I’d figure it out.

I’d have to, what with so much at stake.

“I can’t believe I’ve never been here before. It’s so close to A Taste of Magic, you’d think I’d have eaten here at least once,” I said to Kevin, pushing my plate back. “Thanks for asking me to join you.”

Kevin’s long wavy hair was pulled back tight, highlighting his high cheekbones and full lips. He’d phoned me earlier, asking me to dinner after I got off work. It had been a completely pleasant surprise. Even the healthiness of the vegetarian fare hadn’t bothered me.

Come on, I’d choked down oatmeal for the guy—he was that luscious. Vegetables weren’t close to being an issue.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. They have great salads and amazing fruit smoothies chock full of vitamins and nutrients. You should check them out for lunch one day.”

Right. Over my normal burger and fries? Not likely, but he didn’t need to know that. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I glanced around the restaurant and noticed it had almost emptied out. “We’ve been talking awhile; I didn’t realize we’d been here so long.”

“Ready to go?” Did he sound disappointed?

On a whim, I said, “Why don’t you follow me back to my place? I can make coffee, tea, or what ever you want and we can hang out.” I gulped down a sip of my iced green tea to hide my nervous ness. Why I was anxious about it, I had no clue.

When he smiled, I relaxed. He really was a nice guy.

“I’d love to. Actually, I need to make a quick stop, but I’ll be right behind you.”

“Oh. Okay.” I didn’t ask where or why. It was none of my business, but I
was
curious. “About an hour?”

“Probably less, but no more than that.”

We walked out together, and he gave me a kiss on my cheek before waving. “See you soon,” he said. Nodding, I got in my car, watched him leave, and headed home.

Back at my place, I ran through my apartment trying to straighten it up as much as possible. When everything was as close to presentable as I could make it, I filled a pitcher with water and ice. I sliced up a lemon and tossed those into the water.

I kind of wished I had time to bake something. And, because I had no clue what I would wish for, it was probably best that I didn’t have the time. The ringing phone startled me. Half-worried it was Kevin calling to cancel, I glanced at the Caller ID, something I rarely did.

It read: MARC STEVENS.

Oh
. Was this actually it? My hand trembled as I picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Betty. I’m calling to set up lunch, as we discussed. What day is good for you?”

And he didn’t sound miserable at all, so likely the magic (once again) hadn’t taken hold. Now it was even more important that we nailed the Henderson account. “This isn’t a good time, Marc. I’m waiting for my date.” Ooh, that felt good.

“Date? I didn’t know you were dating.”

The buzzer sounded. “He’s here. I have to go.”

“Wait, what about lunch?”

“What is it with you and lunch? Normal guys do not ask their ex-wives out for lunch all the time.” When he didn’t respond, I hung up without even a morsel of guilt. I knew he didn’t want to meet for lunch to talk about the bakery. He’d just show up unannounced when he was ready for that.

I pushed him out of my thoughts. I couldn’t deal with Marc. Not right now. But, I have to admit, I loved telling him I had a date. Pathetic? Probably. But also very, very cool.

When I let Kevin in, it was immediately obvious where he’d gone. Before, at dinner, he’d come straight from the gym. Now his hair was damp from the shower, and I could smell the clean scent of his shampoo when he walked past me.

“You didn’t have to change,” I said. Instead of the worn T-shirt and stretchy gym pants of earlier, now he wore tight denim and an orangey-red button-down shirt. On anyone else, the color would have been ludicrous and overly bright. But on Kevin the trainer? Absolutely gorgeous.

“I wanted to,” he said. “So this is your place.” His eyes roamed the small confines of my apartment, and a little frown appeared on his face. Yet again, I wished I’d taken the time to decorate. And unpack.

“It’s a mess,” I said.

“Just moved in?”

Yeah, definitely time to make some changes. “No. Just lazy.”

“You should make the time to get it done. Where we live reflects a lot about who we are. Your home is also your sanctuary,” he said, as if he were a teacher at some Zen spa. “You’ll have to come by my condo sometime and see what I’ve done. If you like it, I’d love to help you out here.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” I hadn’t lied; it
was
thoughtful of Kevin to offer his help. But that other stuff he said? It sort of rubbed me the wrong way. I’d get to decorating. When I was ready.

Anxious again, but not entirely sure why, I nodded toward the living room. “You can come completely in. I won’t bite.”

“You can if you want,” he teased.

That little tiny statement made me quiver, and the annoyance I’d felt seconds ago vanished. Another emotion hit me full force. Anticipation? Want? Nah, straight out needy desire. I called it like I saw it, and let me tell you—it had been way too long since I’d had sex. Come to think of it, even my toys hadn’t seen the light of day for a while. They’d remained tucked away in my nightstand drawer ever since the last time Nate was over. Images of Nate kissing me, touching me, whipped into my thoughts. And then, a pain of longing hit me so quick I almost doubled over.

I must have looked kind of odd, because Kevin reached across and pulled me to him. “I’m teasing you.”

“Oh. I know.” Pressing my palms to his chest, I stepped back. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Water would be great.”

I felt his eyes on me as I walked away. Once in the kitchen, I settled myself. I wanted to enjoy myself with Kevin. With that thought in place, I poured us each a glass of water. Heck, with the lemon slices, it sort of looked appealing.

“I’m rubbing off on you,” he said, accepting his glass when I returned.

“I don’t always drink coffee.” Though, close.

After we situated ourselves in the living room, a strange sense of semi–déjà vu hit me. Yep. Same place (my apartment), same woman (me), different drink (water, not coffee), different man (Kevin in place of Nate), and similar yet somehow different emotions. Weird, but there you have it.

Kevin reached behind him and grabbed one of my latch-hook kit rugs I’d only half-completed. “What is this?” He turned it around, obviously in an attempt to find up from down.

I choked down a piece of ice that was caught in my throat. “A craft. When my ex and I split up, I needed to keep my hands busy. Somehow, it helped in keeping my mind busy, too. I never finished any of them.” I waited for him to ask me about Marc. The question was going to come up sooner or later. I preferred later.

A wide smile broke. “Is this a unicorn?”

Heat flushed my face in embarrassment. “They only make those in so many designs. So yeah, it’s a unicorn.”

“There’s nothing wrong with unicorns.” Setting it back down behind him, he said, “My sister used to do these. Actually, I think she had a unicorn.”

“Probably the same picture.”

We chatted for a bit about nothing in particular. Family, work, Chicago, just the normal stuff and nothing terribly exciting taken as a whole but still enjoyable, I think, for both of us. Even so, I couldn’t completely relax around him. Probably, it didn’t mean anything. Because we were still in the getting-to-know-each-other stage, I wrote it off to that.

After a while, I summoned up the nerve to ask the one question that had been on my mind. “How old are you?”

He laughed. I squirmed. “I wondered when you’d get around to asking.”

“Are you going to tell me or are you going to make me guess?” I knew it shouldn’t matter, and I already knew he was younger than me, I just wanted to know how much younger. What if I was way off base and he was barely over eighteen? I squirmed again.

“Guessing sounds like a good idea to me. How old do you think I am?”

“You’re in your twenties, I think.”

“Twenty-what?”

I went low, figuring it would be easier to go up than down. On me, that is. “Twenty-two?”

“Not quite that young. Guess again.”

“Twenty-five?”

“Close. Twenty-seven. See, not as young as you thought.”

Still. Kevin was
eight years
younger than me. Did I like that idea or not? I couldn’t decide. While it was cool he was interested in me, eight years is a lot. It made me a little uncomfortable. “Kevin, do you know how old I am?” In case he thought somehow that I was his age, I needed to make sure.

“I do. You filled out your birth date with your paperwork at Steel Bodies.”

“So you don’t think I’m too old for you?” I hated asking that question, and honestly, felt really stupid the second it left my mouth. But I really wanted to know.

“Age isn’t so much a physical thing as a mental thing. Or maybe even a spiritual thing. Actual years mean nothing. It’s the experience we generate from life that ages us. I’ve met people younger than me in years that were far older than me in spirit. And vice versa, too.”

The Zen teacher was back, but he hadn’t actually answered my question. I tried again. “I can buy in to that. At least to a certain extent, but do you think I am too old for you, regardless of how you judge age?”

His chocolate eyes melted, and his face softened. “I think we’re the perfect age for each other. I’m completely interested in you, and I hope you feel the same about me.”

Warmth tickled my cheeks. “I’m interested, but—”

“No buts, Elizabeth, interested is all I need to hear.” He stood, pulled me to my feet, and wrapped his arms around me. “Let’s dance,” he said.

“Dance? There’s no music.”

“But there is. Close your eyes. You’ll hear it.”

I stepped into his embrace and closed my eyes. My head resting against his hard chest, his arms tight around me, our bodies moving together to silent music, all combined to start a gentle warmth in my belly.

“Can you hear it?” Kevin whispered, his breath hot against my ear.

“Weirdly enough, yes, I can.”

And so we danced. I’m not sure for how long, but long enough for the warmth to climb from my belly into my limbs. Slowly, it traveled through my body, until every inch of my skin blushed from it. I didn’t have to look at a mirror to know I was pink all over.

I didn’t care.

Kevin’s lips began at my ear. One small kiss, and then another. My eyes remained shut. His hands moved down my back until they squeezed my bottom, pushing me closer.

Oh, he was hard. No doubt about that. His teeth bit at my earlobe and then my jawline until his mouth met mine. I dragged my fingers through his hair and opened my mouth to his.

Warmth gave way to heat, and I lost myself in it, in his touch. We stopped dancing and sort of toppled backward to the couch, Kevin on top, his weight comfortable and hard all at once. I wrapped my legs around his hips and arched my back, so the pressure of his hardness was right there, right where I wanted it.

My mind quit functioning. All thought processes completely shut down. I opened my senses and let myself feel, taste, and listen to everything happening.

Kevin stroked his fingers along the edge of my jaw. “I want—”

The ringing of the phone interrupted his statement, which was really a pity. I’d have loved for him to finish his sentence. He lifted his gaze to mine, filled with questions and heat. I was tempted to let the phone ring, let it go to voicemail; after all, what could be important enough to step away from this? I needed to feel desirable. I needed to feel wanted. And right now, I did.

But by the third ring, the daze began to clear, and I wasn’t as comfortable. I wasn’t totally sure why I was doing what I apparently had been about to do. Happy for the reprieve, I scooted out from beneath him. “I should get that. Sorry.”

“No problem.” He rolled off me into a stand. I leapt up and ran to the kitchen and grabbed the phone off the wall. I kept meaning to buy a cordless, but always seemed to forget.

“Hello,” I said, not looking at Kevin, who had trailed after me into the kitchen.

“Elizabeth? Have you talked to your grandmother today?” It was my mother, and she sounded upset. Great.

“Today? No. Why?”

“No one seems to know where she is. She didn’t answer earlier so I sent your father over, but she’s not there.”

My first instinct was worry, but then I thought of Vinny. “I bet she’s with Vinny. Do you have his number?”

“No. Do you?”

“Nope. When did you talk to her last?”

“Last night. She usually tells me if she’s not going to be home when I call. I’m really worried. What do you think we should do?”

My mother was asking me for advice. That worried me almost more than my missing Grandma Verda. “Check in with Alice and the boys. Maybe they’ve heard something.”