“Follow me.
The phone is just on the other side of the swinging door. Careful it doesn't
hit you in the butt when you walk through. The coffee will be ready in a few
minutes. I just have to finish up in the back office so if it's not done
brewing by the time you are off the phone, help yourself. And to a piece of
pie from the desert tray, too. I left a clean dish on the counter.”
“Thank you.
You're an angel.”
“No, I'm just
the owner of this coffee shop.” She stabbed a pointed finger at him and tossed
him an irresistible crooked grin. “But don't you dare breathe a word to anyone
that I'm a softy or I'll go broke passing pie out to every sorry-eyed college
student who walks through that door.”
“It’ll be our
secret.”
As he followed
her through the double swinging doors to the phone, she smiled back at him,
then walked into what looked like a supply closet at the far end of the
kitchen.
If the day had
gone as planned, he'd be married to Catherine by now. He'd be on an airplane,
sitting in first class, heading to Australia for a three-week honeymoon he
hadn't wanted to go on in the first place. All his problems would be over.
Not only would he have a wife, but he'd have his car, his keys, his wallet...
And his pride.
* * *
Maggie tucked
the bank slip in the moneybag and zipped it closed with a trembling hand.
She'd already finished tallying up today's register totals and counting the
money in the drawer when her tall, dark and sinfully handsome stranger waltzed
into the
Coffee Drop
. As she straightened up her desk, her mind kept
wandering to the gorgeous Englishman with the adorable accent now eating
blueberry pie at her counter. Who would have ever thought a sensible girl like
her would go weak in the knees over a few well strung out syllables?
She pulled at
the waistband of her skirt and grimaced at the sudden tightness. Okay, so she
never thought that a levelheaded girl like her would end up pregnant before
marriage either. But there you have it. She’d done a lot of praying from the
time she’d found out about her unplanned pregnancy and made her peace that with
God’s guiding hand, she was on track again. She was determined to do right by
her child.
She snapped the
light switch off in her office and closed the door, giving the kitchen a last
once over in conjunction with a silent reprimand. It would do no good to
berate herself any more than she had over the last few months for being so
careless. Regrets over the past took too much time and energy, and she didn't
have any spare energy to waste on self-deprecation.
Money bag in
hand, she peeked through the glass window of the kitchen door into the dining
area out of habit to make sure no one was on the other side before she swung
through.
There he was.
He sat at the counter hunched over a blue stained plate that had a bite or two
of pie left. Not many men could fill out a tuxedo the way this man did. He
almost looked too tall to sit on the stool. His dark hair was cut short, but
the ends still curled around the nape of his neck, most probably from being out
in the heat in that tux.
Maggie fanned
her face with her hand, telling herself she was just sympathizing with the
man. But she knew she was lying to herself. She'd seen many people come and
go in her coffee shop, but none of them gave her a jolt of lightning with just
one look like he did.
He glanced up
at her as she pushed through the swinging doors.
“What's your
name?” she asked. She sounded a little breathless, even to herself and all she
was doing was talking to a handsome stranger. Maybe the heat was getting to
her, too.
Deep cobalt
eyes smiled up at her and pulled her into his gaze. It wasn’t the heat. She
was
breathless. And over a guy!
Geesh. She had
no business being attracted to this man, or any man for that matter in the
condition she was in. She sucked in a deep breath and reached for the coffee
pot, which was just about done brewing.
“My name?”
“You know my
name. It seems only fair that I know yours.”
“Oh, right.
Jonah Wallace and this blueberry pie was the best I've ever had in my entire
life. Did you make it yourself?” He clanked the fork on his empty plate.
She shook her
head. His compliment was probably just general small talk, but it flattered
her just the same. She liked pleasing her customers. And as her grandmother
always said, there was no better way to get a man’s attention than by plying
him with good food.
“Anything is
good when you're hungry. You ate that piece of pie like it was the first thing
you had all day.”
He glanced away
and appeared to be thinking, and then he chuckled. It was the first time she'd
heard his laugh. It was rich and full of character like the tone of his
voice. And it was nice. Too nice.
“Oddly enough,
it was,” he said. “I don't usually leave the house without breakfast but it's
been a...”
“Horrific day.
I know, you told me,” she finished for him. “As flattered as I am, I can't
accept the compliment for the pie, though. Virginia, my morning manager, does
all the baking.”
“Then I'll have
to make it a point to stop in and pay her the compliment in person.”
“I’m sure
she’ll appreciate it.”
Mr. English
would be paying the
Coffee Drop
another visit. She wasn't quite sure
why that pleased her so. Maybe because men in general weren't on her list of
priorities for the coming year, possibly not for a long time to come.
He'd said he
worked across the street but she didn’t recall ever seeing him before. Sure,
there were thousands of people who worked in the square. And yes, he stood out
now wearing a tuxedo on the hottest day of August like a big pumpkin at an
Irish festival. But Maggie had the feeling even in simple casual wear Jonah
Wallace would stand out among a crowd of men. He had a presence that commanded
attention and that was rare. At least among the men she'd known in her life.
Oh, dear Lord,
please give me strength.
Maggie fidgeted
with the zipper of the moneybag. “I take it your ride will be coming soon?”
“Yes, I can't
thank you enough for the use of your phone. If it wasn't for your kindness,
I'd still be baking in the sun.”
“It was my
pleasure. I hate to throw you out of the air conditioning and onto the street,
but I do have to lock up here and make the bank before it closes. I'd be more
than happy to give you an iced coffee to go while you wait for your ride.”
He slid off the
stool and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. Instinctively, she took the dirty
plate from the counter and slipped it into the gray tub filled with soapy water
under the counter.
“You've been
more than gracious. I don't want to keep you. But I'm afraid I won't be able
to pay the check until--”
Maggie waved
him off. “Don't worry, it's on the house.”
“You're very
kind,” he said in a low voice that stirred something deep inside her. “But
I've never left a bill unpaid in my life. I don't intend to take advantage of
your generosity now.”
He dipped his
gaze, hiding from her view the most incredible blue eyes she'd ever seen, as if
he were embarrassed. She was sure that was the case. She'd had her share of
Dutch treat dates for the brief time she'd attended Boston University, but
she'd bet this week's register tally that Jonah had never allowed a lady he was
with to go Dutch.
She couldn't
help but chuckle. “It's just a cup of coffee and some pie. In some parts of
the world people call that being neighborly.”
Jonah stared
blankly, and then his eyebrows knitted together.
She pointed to
the building across the street. “You said your office is in that building.”
His lips
stretched into a slow grin. “I guess that would make us neighbors then.”
“Exactly. So,
don't worry about it. Where I come from we look out for our neighbors.”
“And where do
you come from, Maggie?”
His question as
well as the genuine interest in his eyes caught her by surprise. This man was
an enigma for sure. But it didn't take much to figure out they'd lived their
lives worlds apart. Not just geographically, but socially. Despite not having
two nickels to rub together at the present moment, Maggie could tell this man
was from money. Either that, or he was a good impersonator.
“Across the
Charles River,” she said. Not quite the other side of the track, but far
enough to make their differences evident. He was money, she wasn't. End of
story.
She locked the
door behind them and walked out into the sunshine of Harvard Square, wilting
immediately under the cruel sun. The choking smell of fuels and garbage from a
nearby trashcan made her stomach roll. Every little smell seemed magnified
lately, just like this sudden attraction to a stranger.
Hormones.
That's what this is, Maggie decided instantly. Not that she'd had this kind of
reaction since she found out she was pregnant two months ago, but she'd never
liked the combination of pickles and chocolate sauce either and that had been a
regular treat of late.
“Thank you
again, Maggie. I didn't catch your last name.”
“Bonelli.”
Jonah gripped
her hand. She was struck by how small her hand felt in his stronger one, how
snug his fingers curled around hers. Safe and strong. For a moment, she found
herself drawn even closer to this stranger. Abruptly, she snatched her hand
away.
“It was nice to
meet you Maggie Bonelli. You've made an otherwise rotten day...almost
bearable.”
“I'm just glad
I could help. Make sure you stop by again.”
She turned and
walked next door to the bank, muttering to herself she shouldn't look back at
Jonah Wallace. And she didn't. She made her deposit and decided her day had
already been too long.
* * *
“Congratulations,
Sir. How was the--” his driver said, opening the door to the back seat of his
shining black limo.
Jonah put up
his hand. “Hold that thought, Michael. Did you remember to bring the petty
cash for me?” he asked, tossing the tuxedo jacket to the leather seat.
“Yes, Sir.
It's in the--”
Rummaging
through the console deck, he found his wallet and his spare set of keys.
“I have it,
thank you. Be right back.” Twisting around, he walked back the way he’d just
come.
He slammed the
back door of the limo just as he saw Maggie push through the bank door, and
walk out into the heat, moving in the opposite direction.
A few quick
strides through the crowd and Jonah fell into her stride.
“I want to
thank you again for your kindness.”
With the sound
of his voice, Maggie did a double take, and stopped walking. His heart did a
flip-flop as she peered up at him with wide eyes like she had inside the coffee
shop.
“Didn't we do
this already?” she asked, her brow crinkling slightly.
“Yes, but I see
that you're still here and I've retrieved my billfold--”
As he held the
leather billfold up for her inspection, she laughed. Little beads of sweat
were already forming on her forehead and matting stray ringlets of hair to the
sides of her face.
“You have a
hard time letting people help you, don't you?”
He lifted a
shoulder. “I'm use to taking care of things myself. I don’t think you full
appreciate how unusual today was for me. I'm grateful for your help.”
Shaking her
head, she said, “It was a cup of coffee and a phone call. You're making too
much of this. “
“Don’t forget
the pie. And I’m really not. I'd been to three other shops in the square
before I came through your door. No one so much as offered up a smile. With
you, at least I got a bite to eat while I waited.”
She rolled her
eyes and grinned, pursing her lips. “It's genetic. I'm a softy. So was my
grandmother.”
She continued
walking again, this time passed him, and dropped her bag on the wooden bench in
front of the bus-stop sign. She glanced back once, just to see if he was going
to follow? He took it as an invitation. She glanced down the street toward
the shiny black limousine that was now double parked outside her coffee shop.
She nodded
toward the limo. “Yours?”
“My ride,
thanks to you.”
She tried her
best not to look impressed, but he could see that she was. He was used to it,
but not many people were used to having a chauffeur at will. He generally
didn't ask Michael to take him anywhere but formal functions. He'd hired him
mainly for his housemaid, Mary, since she detested driving in the city on her
own.
“If your friend
doesn't want a parking ticket, I suggest he pull into a parking space...or
two. The meter maid can be scary, I hear.”
“I'll have to
remember that.” He glanced up at the bus-stop sign and then back at her. “Can
I give you a lift?”
Maggie pulled
at the waistband of her skirt. The white cotton top that she'd seemed cool
enough wearing inside the coffee shop was now clinging to the swells of her
breasts, compliments of the heat and humidity.
“That won't be
necessary.”
“It's no
trouble, really.”
She let out a
quick breath and looked around at the people walking up and down the sidewalk,
until her gaze settled back on his face again.
“Look, you seem
like a nice man and all. But I don't make it a habit of getting into cars with
strange men I've never met before?”
“I'm not a
strange man.”
She tilted an
eyebrow as her eyes drifted down to his tuxedo.
“Right. The
clothes again.” He motioned back to the diner with his hands. “What was it
you said earlier about being neighborly? We’ve just shared coffee and pie
together. You could hardly consider us strangers anymore.”