Authors: Rose Connelly
“I’m trying to be serious here.
”
James leaned back in his chair and felt
it
st
a
rting to tip backward. He wind-
milled
his arms and just managed to catch the edge of the table.
The chair teetered, but stayed upright.
Unfortunately,
the bowl of peanuts resting on the edge of the table weren’t so lucky
. It
fell with a clunk, scattering its contents all over the immediate floor space.
Devon
leaned back and
laugh
ed
like it was the funniest thing he had ever seen.
When his friend’s humor finally abated James
cleared his throat
and tried again.
“What do you think I should do about Mira?”
h
e prodded.
Devon shrugged.
“I don’t know. Y
ou could always treat her like all of your other women
—
a convenient bedmate and an occasional social asset.”
“I can’t do that
.
”
James sighed
and rested his cheek on his palm
.
“Ah
.
Could it be that, even though you think she lied to you, you still feel something for her?”
“Perhaps,” he admitted.
“Plus, she flat out refused to even consi
der anything as casual as that
.”
“Listen buddy.”
Devon stood up and slapped James on the shoulder, almost knocking him over again.
“You already know what you want to do.
Besides, from what you
’ve told me
I don’t think Mira
deliberately set out
to hurt you.
Now, you can stay here and brood into your beer, but I’m calling a cab and going home.
I’m beat.”
With carefully measured steps, he turned and walked toward the door.
James stayed a
t
the table and called for another drink.
If he was going to do any proper brooding, his brain need
ed
lubrication.
Granted, he might not make a smart decision, but at lea
st he would be doing something.
**********************************************
************
The tree looked reall
y tall and the branches that
were close enough to grab were
swaying dangerously.
Or
, he admitted fuzzily,
perhaps that was him.
Oh well, James told himself as he rubbed his hands together, he had once been a champion climber.
How hard could it be?
With his first hesitant leap, he managed to grab a branch
. He was already smugly congratulating himself when his hands slipped and he dropped down,
scraping
his palms on the rough bark.
The second jump didn’t produce any better results, but
through sheer willpower
he eventually managed to
haul himself
up to Mira’s window, where he swayed dangerously
for several moments
and clung to the trunk for dear life.
When he felt a little more stable, he carefully reached up, grabbed an acorn and
threw
it.
The tap at her window, followed by a loud string of curses, jolted Mira from a sound sleep.
She sat up in bed and hugged her knees, wondering if she should call the police, but whoever was outside was obviously not a burglar.
He was making way too much noise and, if she wasn’t mistaken, the voice held the trace of an Irish accent.
“Damn it,” she muttered as she climbed out of bed and stubbed her toe on the nightstand.
Whatever the fool wanted he could just go home and forget it.
He had already interfered enough today.
With righteous anger already simmering in her veins, she marched over to the window, flung it open, and froze.
He wasn’t standing on the
ground
. He
was perched on a creaking branch grinning at her.
“What the hell are you doing you daft man!?”
s
he yelled.
“You’re not a boy anymore.
Get down from there before you fall.
And go home.
I have nothing to say to you.”
“Hello
darlin
’,” he drawled.
“You’re looking lovely.
Why don’t you let me
in and we can have a
wee,” he paused and winked, or tried to, “
chat
.”
Mira narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“How
much have you had to drink
?”
s
he asked.
“It must have been a lot if you think I’m stupid enough to fall for that kind of flattery.
For god’s sake, my hair
looks like I stuck my finger in a socket and my t-shirt must be at least 10 years old and three sizes too big
.”
“Ah,
but you’re wrong,” he crooned.
“
A
fine beautiful woman you are
with your hair like a halo around your
glowing
face
and your shirt slipping, showing
off your
lovely
shoulders.
” His eyes deepened and his mouth turned down
,
making him appear to be the
epitome of a dejected man. “Me, now, I’m a right brute of man. N
o even worthy to kiss your feet. I was a stupid man to let you go,
but I need you.
Could you no find it in your heart to
give me a
nother
chance?”
Mira searched his eyes, seeking the truth of his words, but she couldn’t get past his expression. He looked like such a lost puppy that she wanted to laugh. Instead, she forced her lips into a frown and crossed her arms.
“Why should I do that?
You didn’t give me one.”
“Ah, Mira, I’ve missed you.”
Her treacherous heart swelled with longing, but she stubbornly pushed the feeling away. She was not ready to let him hurt her again.
“
Are you saying that you forgive me
?” she asked suspiciously.
“Have I no just said so?
Now, why don’t you let me in,” he wiggled his eyebrows
suggestively
, “and we can make up.”
“I haven’t said that I forgive you yet James Kelly.”
“All right,” he sighed dramatically
.
“Will you at least have dinner with me
?
I’ll even do the cooking.”
“Can you cook?”
s
he asked suspiciously.
“Come over on Saturday and you’ll find out.”
“Fine,” Mira relented.
“I’ll have dinner with you.
Now get out of that tree before you hurt yourself.”
“Till Saturday then.”
With a grace and agil
ity that belied his age and
level of intoxication, James shimmied down the tree and walked
away
.
A chee
ry whistle drifted after him.
Mira wasn’t exactly sure what to expect since, despite the extent of their relationship, she had never been to James’ house.
It wasn’t that
she hadn’t asked, because she had
several
times, but
he had
always c
ome
up with an excuse.
She had started to suspect that there was
actually
something wrong with
the
house.
Maybe he still lived like a frat boy with dirty
clothes
and empty pizza boxes on the floor.
She knew several single men who
were
like that.
Or perhaps, she mused as she turned
into Crescent Estates,
he lived in an extravagant monstrosity that was a shrine to wealth, but appalling to anyone with a smi
dgen of taste.
Her
mind was so focused on
her
inner ramblings
that she completely passed the address and had to
execute a three-
point
-
turn, almost hitting a Lexus parked on the other side of the street
.
When she finally pulled into the driveway and caught sight of the house, she breathed a sigh of relief
.
Yes it
was quite
big with two stories of red brick, but it wasn’t ostentatious.
She parked her car and
actually made it to the porch before her steps hesitated
as her sense of self-preservation finally kicked in
. If she actually went through with this and she was wrong the potential for heartache was immense
.
She turned on her heel, but b
efore she could
take a step
the big
double
doors opened.
The man who stood there could easily have worked for the British nobility.
He had a somewhat battered face,
which looked like it
could have
belonged to a boxer, but his spin
e was military straight and
,
except for a slight dusting of white on
one sleeve, his black suit was
starched and impeccable
.
She almost expected him to bow, but instead he greeted he
r in a crisp English accent,
ushered her into the elegant dining room
,
and left her to wait.
James heard the front door open and quickly pulled on a new shirt.
His first was currently
in the wash after
an incident in the kitchen
. He
really should have heeded his own advice and ordered takeout
.
The sauce, the chicken, and the pastry he
had
spent hours on were all in the trash, burned
almost
beyond recognition.
In
t
he end he had to rely on Winston, his
ever
efficient butler
, to salvage the meal
.
Thankfully
, the man was also an excellent chef and had managed to whip up a meal very quickly.
Right now a lovely
Alfredo
sauce was
just starting to thicken, chicken was already grilled, the
fettuccine
was almost done,
and homemade bread
was warming
in the oven.