A Gentleman's Agreement (10 page)

Blake stood propped
against the doorframe, nursing a cup of apple cider. There were plenty of
people gathered in the room, but only one beckoned his attention. Eunice. It
amazed him how she’d implanted herself so firmly into his family. More
urgently, the way she’d implanted herself so firmly into him.

One thing for sure, things
would never be the same between them. Not with everything he’d said to her on
the path. Plus, her admitting to wanting him too. It was hard enough looking at
her now. How in the hell could he continue to work side-by-side, day-in and
day-out with her? Especially with him wanting her more and more with every
breath he took.

He couldn’t think about
New York now. Hell, he needed to focus on getting through the rest of their
time in Norfolk. Maybe he should say he’d been called back to New York for an
emergency and would have to leave. That was a plausible explanation.

Eunice neared him, a
smile spread across her face. God, that smile was paralyzing.

“Stop holding up the
wall,” she said.

“I ate too much. I
can’t move. Did you—?”

When his cell phone
rang, Eunice’s eyes slid to his side. Damn. He thought he’d put it on vibrate.
“Sorry.” He pulled the device from the holster. After glancing at the screen,
he groaned.
Sasha
. She hadn’t reached out since she’d left his condo.
Honestly, he wished she hadn’t now.

“Are you going to
answer that?” Eunice asked.

“Ah, yeah.” Knowing if
he didn’t she’d call him twenty times in a row. “Excuse me for a second?” When
Eunice nodded and moved away, he slid out of the room. “Hello,” he said, pulling
at the door leading onto the dual level deck. The second he stepped out into
the frigid cold, he regretted not grabbing his coat.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Sasha
said, her tone cheery.

“Same to you.”

“I didn’t disturb you,
did I? I know how you like watching football on Thanksgiving.”

Yes, you actually did.
But instead of saying that, he said, “Mom actually banned it this year. She
wanted everyone to spend time together and not in front of the TV.”

“Good idea. I just love
that lady.”

Blake pulled the phone
from his ear and stared at it briefly. What in the hell was going on?

“I haven’t heard from
you,” she said.

The words left her lips
as if she didn’t know the reason why.

“We’re taking a break,
remember?”

“Typical. Make me the
bad guy, Mr. Perfect.”

Choosing not to respond
to the cheap shot she’d taken, he paced back and forth in an attempt to
generate heat. Glancing through the window, it provided an unobstructed view
into the great room. Eunice sat crossed-legged on the floor in front of the
fireplace. It caused a sensation that warmed him. He wanted to get back to her.
“I have to go, Sasha, but I hope you enjoy the remainder of your holiday.”

There was silence on
the opposite end. For a moment, he wondered if she’d hung up.

“Why are you treating
me so cold?” she said.

“Sasha, I’m—”

“I didn’t call you to
argue. I just wanted to wish you a happy Thanksgiving. But if you don’t have
time for me, fine.”

The line went dead.

He shook his head,
silenced the phone, and placed it back in the holster.

“Son?”

Blake turned to see his
Dad coming up behind him. How long had he been there? “Pop. What’s up?”

His father stood next
to him in the blistering cold. When he spoke plumes of white smoke escaped. “It’s
cold as a witch’s tit out here.” He tugged at his goose down coat. “There are
only two things that will make a man stand about in this kind of weather—and without
a coat.” He ticked off with his fingers. “Money and a woman. And since your
woman is inside wondering where you are, I
hope
it’s money.”

Blake chuckled. “No one
could ever accuse you of subtlety, Pop.”

His dad glanced through
the glass. “Eunice has been gazing in this direction every two minutes. You
might want to assure her everything’s okay.”

Blake nodded. “I will.”

His father clapped him
on the back. “You know, son. The downfall of too many men is the upkeep of too
many women.”

“More Solemn Farrington
philosophy?”

“No, Johnnie Taylor. Than
man could
sang
. Come on in the house before you catch the pneumonia. Mother
wants to do gifts now.” He put his son in the headlock. “Superstar.”

Blake used to feel like
a superstar, but recently he’d started to doubt himself. The Freddie Fingers
sit-down—or lack of one—was weighing heavily on his mind. When he reentered the
room, Aunt Belle lifted her empty glass into the air and dangled it toward him.
“Do you need a refill, Aunt Belle?”

She batted her eyes. “I
was married to a bartender once. He died. Slipped on a lemon and broke his arm.
Ran into a tree on his way to the hospital.”

“Not one word, Solemn,”
his mother ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,” his dad
said, settling down next to his mother and taking her hand into his. “I love
you, sunshine.”

“I know. I love you,
too.”

“Get a room,” Ian said.

Blake loved how in love
his parents still were with each other. He honestly had no idea what his father
would do without his mother. As grave as it sounded, he wanted that. Someone so
essential to him that he couldn’t function without them. Impulsively, his eyes
slid to the woman who was quickly becoming his worst distraction.

“Who wants to go first?”
his mother asked.

When Eunice’s arm rose,
his brows arched. “Eager beaver,” Blake joked. It surprised him that she wanted
to go at all, let alone first.

“Great,” his mother
said.

All eyes settled on him
as Eunice slid a box in his direction. “Did you get me a pizza?”

A smiled spread across
Eunice’s face. “Just open it.”

If he didn’t know any
better, she was more excited about this gift giving tradition than anyone else
in the house. He tore through the outside wrapping, then into the box. His lips
parted, but no words escaped.

“What in heaven’s name
did you give my brother to render him—of all people—speechless?” Tucker asked.

“Lingerie,” Ian said.

“Ian!” his mother
scolded.

Blake eyed Eunice. “You
named a star after me.”

She nodded. “Do you
like it?”

“Like it? I…love it.”

He displayed the full
color framed parchment certificate, personalized with the star name, date, and
coordinates. Then he showed everyone the personalized sky chart that also displayed
the star name and date in addition to the constellation.

“What’s that, Uncle
Blake?” Casey pointed to a location circled in red.

Eunice chimed in for
him, which was a good thing because he wanted to know, too.

“It’s where Uncle
Blake’s star is located in the sky.”

Casey’s eyes widened.
“Cool.”

“Very cool,” Blake
said.

Blake passed the
booklet on astronomy around for everyone to browse, along with the letter of
congratulations that had been included.

Lastly, he pulled out a
silver ornament in the shape of a star. He read the inscription aloud. “You’ll
always be a superstar. When in doubt, tilt your head to the sky.”

He stared at Eunice
long and hard. If anyone in the room had harbored doubts about the legitimacy
of their relationship, they would have been laid to rest when he placed his
hand behind Eunice’s neck and pulled her toward him. When their lips touched, it
was like fire scorching him from the inside out.

Blake blocked out any
and everything except Eunice and that moment. He sensed her initial resistance,
but it only took a second for her mouth to surrender to his.

When he finally pulled
away, his forehead rested against hers. “
Merci
.”

“Have mercy is right,”
he heard his father say behind him.

In a delicate tone,
Eunice said, “Thank you. I mean… I’m welcome. I mean… You’re welcome.”

“Hot damn. Now that was
a kiss. You done fried her brain,” Aunt Belle said. “You need an electrician to
fix that overload. I was married to an electrician once—”

His father sighed
heavily. “He died. We know.”

“Died?” she said as if
she’d been offended. “That fool is still alive. I tried to kill him. Dropped a
transistor radio into the bathtub. Unfortunately, it was battery-operated.”

When Blake faced the
crowd, he was greeted by every eye in the room. No one’s surprise could have
been greater than his. But judging by the stunned faces, theirs were a close
comparison. “Well, I guess I’ll go next.”

***

Eunice still reeled
from the kiss Blake had just planted on her. If that hadn’t been shocker
enough, he’d done it in front of his family. His entire family. He’d set the
stage for a very awkward remainder of the evening.

She understood keeping
up appearances, but this was more. Something far more. He’d kissed her.
Really
kissed her. Tongue and all. Warm, tantalizing, delicious tongue…and all. Why
had she enjoyed it so damn much? That was a silly question. She’d enjoyed it
because it’d been fantastic.

Had it been obvious
that it had been their first kiss? Not a peck like he’d given her in the
kitchen. Their first
real
kiss. She groaned. Of course it had. She
hadn’t done a good job at masking her surprise. What in the hell had he been
thinking?
Ugh
.
Damn you, Blake Farrington
.

Absently tearing into
the package Blake passed to her, she realized their situation had just taken a
turn. For the unknown. For the worst. She had no idea which. But it definitely
wasn’t for the best.

The fact that her brain
remained scrambled might explain why she had no idea why he’d gotten her a map.
And not even a store-bought map. Had he printed this from his office printer? She
admitted to being lost and needing guidance, but she doubted this would get her
anywhere but further misguided. Guess she could give him a point for
originality.

“It’s a map,” Blake
said.

 “Yep, figured that one
out,” Eunice said. “But—”

“Of Paris,” Blake said.

“Paris?” She glanced up
from the paper. “You didn’t.”

He passed her a
metallic gold envelope.

She ripped into it and gasped.
“You did.” Two first-class tickets to Paris were inside.

“Museum passes,
sightseeing excursions, a river cruise, and a private car service.”

Eunice pushed her palm into
her chest, still staring at the tickets. “You didn’t.”

“I did. You’ve talked
about going to Paris for as long as I can remember. Now, you can speak your
French to someone who actually understands you.” He lifted his hands. “Because
I don’t. But I have to admit, it does sound nice.”

“You speak French?” Mrs.
Farrington asked.

“A little. I’m kind of
rusty,” Eunice said.

“
C’est le langage de
l’amour
,” said Mrs. Farrington.

“Since when do you speak
French, Thelma?” Blake’s father asked.

“Since you bought me those
Rosetta Stone
CDs.

A wide smile spread
across Mr. Farrington’s face. “I speak Spanish. You speak French. Together,
we’re tri-lingual.”

Eunice bit back a
laugh.

Blake laughed out loud.
“You speak Spanish, Pop?”

“
Si
. That means
yes.”

Ian chimed in.
“Everybody can say yes in Spanish, Pop.” When Mr. Farrington arched a brow, Ian
added, “But you said it with swag.”

“Grassyasses.”

“
Grassyasses
?”
everyone said in unison.

“That means many thanks
in Spanish,” Mr. Farrington said with a swollen chest.

Glances were exchanged,
but no one corrected him.

Blake shook his head
and eyed his mother. “What did you say, Mom?”

Mrs. Farrington shifted
her focus to Eunice. “Eunice?”

“She said it’s the
language of love,” Eunice answered. “Blake...” she paused. “I can’t accept
this.”

“Why?” Ian asked.

Blake cut his eyes at
his brother, before moving them back to Eunice and asking, “Why?”

Eunice fought the
desire to lower her eyes to his mouth. She couldn’t risk him mistaking the move
for an invitation. “Because it had to cost a fortune.”

It was awkward
discussing it in front of his family, who were all tuned into them like their
favorite soap opera.

“Money well spent. You
had a star named after me for Christ’s sake. Besides, they’re nonrefundable.”

She stared at him with
skeptical eyes.

“Man, you are getting
lucky tonight,” Ian said.

Their mother turned to Ian.
“You are definitely your father’s child.”

The room filled with
laughter.

“So, when are you
going?” Vivian asked.

“Better yet,” Ian said,
“who are you taking?” He patted Blake on the shoulder. “Certainly not my
brother, who I hear nearly fainted on the hour flight here. France is what,
ten...twelve hours. He’ll never make it.”

Blake shrugged Ian away.
“Should I bring up your fear of clowns?”

“Touché,” Ian said.

Eunice hadn’t
considered the fact that Blake hated to fly. But why had she even assumed he
would be traveling with her, anyway? It wasn’t like they were actual lovers. And
France boasted as being a place for lovers.

“I’m sure Eunice wants
to take her aunt.” He glanced at her. “Right?”

Hell no
.
I
want to take you
.
I want us to walk the streets of Paris hand-in-hand. Eat
fine chocolates. Sip great wine. Kiss in the Eiffel Tower
.
Make love in
an incredibly overpriced hotel
. On second thought, maybe Blake not traveling
with her was a good thing. In fact, she was sure of it. Paris. Sexual tension. Not
a good combination.