Anticipation (33 page)

This is Eddie. Never, ever forget that
.

“Maybe I should do the coffee and you should handle the pancakes,” she said.

She gave him the spatula and collected the bag of beans from where he’d left them on the counter. While he threw out the burnt pancakes, she made a mental list of all the women who had been through the revolving door to Eddie’s bedroom. By the time she’d extracted two cups of coffee, the list in her head was long enough to be not just sobering but downright grim.

Eddie had walked away from dozens of women — or pushed them away. Unlike Raf, he’d never had a Lena in his life. As she’d told Maggie, his longest relationship had lasted just six months.

No matter how good it was between them, no matter how he looked at her sometimes, or the way he held her, she needed to remember that it all meant nothing in the big scheme of things. This was simply how Eddie operated with women, and she would be nuts if she started reading anything into it.

This wasn’t special.
She
wasn’t special. This was simply what Eddie did.

Give Eddie a chance to be something other than what you think he is. Give him a chance to surprise you.

Blue stared at the dials on the espresso machine as Maggie’s words echoed in her mind. Only a woman who read Regency romance novels and believed in real life happy-ever-afters could be so damned naive and hopeful.

Blue was not that woman. She never would be.

Her resolve firming, she unlocked the group head from the machine, knocked out the spent beans and handed one of the espresso coffees she’d made to Eddie.

“Thanks, babe,” he said, his gaze warmly appreciative as he glanced at her.

She stomped on the warm glow his words generated, downing her own coffee in one swallow. If he hadn’t been plating up the pancakes, she would have bailed, but it would be impossible to do so now without it looking as though she was running away from something.

She was, but she didn’t want Eddie to know that.

So she sat the kitchen table and ate pancakes with Eddie and laughed at his jokes and praised his cooking. Afterward, she washed up. Then, and only then, did she head back to the bedroom to finish getting dressed.

“You’re going?” Eddie asked, surprise on his face as she watched her pull on her jeans.

“I’ve got things to do,” she said.

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought we could go to the beach. Looks like it’s going to be a great day.”

“Sorry, can’t.”

Eddie looked as though he wanted to say more, but he simply gave a terse nod and stepped out of the way to let her escape into the hallway. Guilt bit at her as she opened the front door. He’d made love to her all night, then he’d cooked her a great breakfast. He’d been nothing but sweet and funny and sexy.

She had to protect herself, though. If she didn’t, it would destroy her when he ended things.

And he would end things. He always did.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” she said on the doorstep.

“You will.”

He was pissed with her, she realized. Her shoulders squared as she headed for her car.

He’d get over it. She was doing this for both of them — for their friendship. She needed to hang on to that.

Eddie watched Blue walk down the front path to the street.

Damn it, he’d been so sure she was going to spend the day with him, but something had happened while they were making breakfast and she’d retreated inside herself. He thumped his fist against the door frame as he heard her car start up, then stepped back into the house.

Frustrated as all hell, he walked back into his bedroom and stared at the neatly made bed. He hadn’t realized Blue had made it, had no idea when she’d found the time. The rest of his clothes from yesterday were folded on the end of the bed, too, he saw. He rested his hand on his crisply folded T-shirt, thinking about Blue’s passion for order and wondering if she knew how revealing it was.

Probably not, otherwise she’d do her damnedest to overcome the urge. God forbid she expose her soft underbelly to the world.

Or to him.

But at least she’d stayed the night. And over the last three weeks, she’d come back to his place or invited him back to hers half a dozen times outside of their allocated “one day a week” edict. One by one, her rules were falling by the wayside. In other words, they were making progress.

Yep. Ten years from now, she’ll be happy to talk about the future
.

He ignored the sarcastic asshole in his head. It was in his nature to be impatient. He’d always been the twin most likely to get into trouble, thanks to his impulsive nature, but this was too important to rush. Way too important. This was the rest of his life, if he got it right.

As he'd half suspected, Blue waited a full seven days before falling into his arms again the following Saturday, just to prove to herself that she could, he suspected. The moment they were done, she climbed out of his bed and started dressing. The following Monday, she caved and let him coax her to orgasm on his desk when everyone else had gone home, but it took another two weeks before she stayed the night again.

This time, he didn’t push for anything more than breakfast, but she seemed disinclined to make a run for it once they’d finished, so he casually mentioned he’d planned to check out a South American street food festival that was being held in one of the bluestone lane ways in the city.

“Will there be
acarajé
, do you think?” she asked as she polished off the last of the omelette he’d made her.The deep-fried prawn fritters were another a favorite of hers.

“I’d be surprised if there weren’t,” he said.

She set her knife and fork down. “All right. Let’s check it out.”

He didn’t give her a chance to change her mind, and half an hour later they were showered and out the door. They found parking on the fringes of the city and walked to where the festival was being held within a number of lane ways that had been closed off to all but foot traffic for the day. For the next few hours they threaded their way amongst stalls selling food, hand crafts, clothes and music, stopping to inspect items here and there, tasting samples and buying treats that they ate standing in the sun.

Blue fell on a
brigadeiro
display like a starving woman, and he bought her a box and watched her stuff her face until she confessed to feeling ill.

“You know what the worst thing is? They weren’t half as good as yours,” she said, one hand on her belly.

“You should know this already. I’m the best,” he said with a little shrug he knew would drive her crazy.

She rolled her eyes and slapped his shoulder. Even though he knew it was dangerous, he caught her hand and didn’t let it go, instead weaving his fingers with hers as they strolled through the crowd. He waited for her to tug her hand free, but she didn’t, and he allowed himself to enjoy the small moment of connection.

The sound of loud music drew them around the corner to where a portable dance floor had been erected over the uneven bluestone cobbles, creating a mini-dance studio. Loudspeakers blasted hip-swinging salsa music, and colorfully dressed demonstration dancers swirled to the beat. A few confident souls from the crowd joined them, doing their best to emulate the moves the professionals were doing.

Eddie could feel Blue’s interest in the music — the way her hand tensed around his, the subtle sway to her body — and he glanced at her.

“Want to show them how it’s done?” he asked.

The music switched to a more energetic, modern beat, and he recognized Alexis y Fido’s “Cinco Letras" and knew the universe was on his side — no way would Blue be able to stand still for this song.

Sure enough, she smiled, her eyes bright. “Hell, yeah.”

They moved onto the dance floor and into each other’s arms, then slipped into a shared rhythm with ease. As always, Blue was strong and sinuous in his arms, her small body pivoting, twisting, rolling with his own. Soon they had their own clear spot on the dance floor as the other dancers got out of their way.

Blue grinned at him, enjoying the attention and the music, and he was pierced with happiness that was so sharp and sweet it was almost painful.

She was so beautiful, so joyful and alive. This morning she’d been in his bed, and he’d just watched her eat herself sick, and now she was laughing and teasing him with her hips and ass and breasts in front of a growing crowd.

She was an amazing woman. Strong. Determined. Sexy. Playful. And he loved her — adored her — so much his chest ached with the force of his feelings. He wanted to dance like this with her until they were old and grey. He wanted a million Sundays as lazy and sun-filled as this one. He wanted to build a life with her, to laugh and cry and fight and grow together.

The need to give voice to his feelings, to lay his heart at her feet, gripped him, tightening his throat and tensing his shoulders, but he pushed it away.

She wasn’t ready. He knew it in his gut.

They’d been sleeping together for several months now, but this was only their second Sunday together. For all he knew, she would back off again next week, trying to once again corral what was happening between them. He had to stick to his game plan. He had to be patient.

The song ended and was replaced with a slower, gentler ballad, and he salved his need to declare himself by pulling Blue closer. She rested her head on his chest and he closed his eyes and made sure to mark the moment in his memory — the smell of her perfume, the sounds of the city around them, the creak of the dance floor beneath their feet, the perfection of having her in his arms, against his body.

It was enough, for now. More than enough. More than he’d ever had before.

They danced for a few more songs until the dance floor became too crowded, then he led Blue back toward the food and found a stall selling fresh juices. Giant cups in hand, they wandered back to where they’d parked his car, sipping on cold apple and ginger juice.

He caught sight of the time in a shop window as they passed and was surprised to see it was nearly five. Somehow, the day had slipped effortlessly away.

“You know, every time we park somewhere I expect to come back and find your car gone,” Blue said when they finally reached the street where they’d left his car.

“Seriously?” he asked, startled by the idea.

“Yeah. It’s the kind of car boys carve into the desk at school when they’re bored in class. Highly covetable.”

“Yeah, and highly visible. Good luck slipping away unnoticed in a stolen a Ferrari,” he said.

“True. Although some people might think a joy ride was worth it.”

“Keep those kinds of ideas to yourself, Sullivan,” he said, and she laughed as she got into the car.

He headed home and was crossing Victoria Street, heading north, when his phone rang. He hit the button to take the call via the car’s Bluetooth system.

“Hey. What are you up to?” It was Raf, his familiar voice filling the car.

“Just leaving the city,” Eddie said.

“You want to come over for dinner? Raf and I feel like cooking,” Maggie said.

The sound was a little echo-y, and Eddie guessed his brother had his phone on speaker so he and Maggie could both hear the conversation.

He glanced at Blue. Even though he knew it was a long shot, he’d hoped that he might be able to cajole her into having dinner with him.

“I’m going to ask Blue, too. Do you know if she’s doing anything?” Maggie added before he could respond.

“You can ask her yourself,” he said, glancing at Blue.

“Hey, Maggs,” Blue said.

He couldn’t see her expression fully thanks to her sunglasses, but he had the distinct impression she wasn’t thrilled that he’d revealed they were spending the day together.

“Oh, perfect. Two birds, one stone,” Maggie said brightly. “So, what do you guys say? Dinner at seven?”

“I’ve got something else on, sorry,” Blue said. She glanced at him. “But you should go, Eddie.”

He tried not to show how disappointed he was. In his heart, he’d known she was going to say no, for the same reason she would probably have said no if he’d asked her to have dinner with just him — because she’d already stayed the night and spent the day with him, and spending the evening with him as well would be too much like a real relationship.

The kind where being together was about love and liking as well as off-the-charts-good sex. The kind that wasn’t bounded on all sides by a set of dumb-ass fucking rules.

“Are you sure you can’t come?” Maggie cajoled. “We’re making salty-caramel puddings.”

“Wow, that does sound great. But I don’t think I can get out of my other thing,” Blue said.

He stopped at a traffic light, hands white-knuckle tight on the wheel as he listened to her lie.

Why couldn’t she just accept that they were good together? Why couldn’t she trust him, and let him love and care for her the way he wanted to?

“Okay. Do we still get to have you, Eddie?” Maggie asked.

“I’ll be there,” he said.

“Fantastic. We’ll see you at seven, then,” Maggie said.