Close to You (7 page)

He was definitely interested. She eyed
him as she approached. He watched her steadily, the barest hint of
amusement lighting his face.

It was a nice face, actually. Hair
more gray than brown, dimples in his cheeks, a nose that looked
like it’d been broken at one time. She couldn’t see them now, but
his eyes had been the gray of a foggy San Francisco
morning.

She frowned, her hand touching her
pearls. It didn’t matter what his eyes looked like. She was done,
already halfway in the grave.

She didn’t know what was scarier:
dying, or going broke and becoming homeless.

She expected him to get up and walk to
her but he didn’t move as she neared. He stayed where he was, arms
crossed, watching her get closer. He was tall, taller than her, and
she was tall for a woman. Unlike many of the men her age, he didn’t
have a paunch. He looked lean and fit in his sweater and
slacks.

She had the urge to walk around to the
other side of the parking lot, but she didn’t want him to think he
had her running, even if he did. Neither was she going to give him
the upper hand, so she stopped in front of him and spoke first.
“The answer is still no.”

“
I realize that, but it
doesn’t mean I’m not going to try to change your mind.” He tipped
his head. “You look tired.”

“
Telling a woman she looks
haggard isn’t the way to her heart.”

“
Do you think I want your
heart?”

She didn’t have any of her heart left.
“If you do, you’re in for disappointment.”

“
I’m willing to risk
it.”

She clutched her pearls, her other arm
across her midsection. “Are you one of those men who can’t resist a
challenge?”

“
All men can’t resist a
challenge. Some just give up sooner than others.” He smiled, his
dimples flashing. “I don’t give up.”

“
It’s a waste of
time.”

“
You’re talking to me now,
aren’t you?” he said without a hint of smugness.

Still, she bristled. “Not for
long.”

Stiffly, she turned to finish her
walk, but suddenly he was right in front of her.

The closeness of him stopped her. She
hadn’t been so close to a man in so long. She stared up at him,
shocked into stillness.

He didn’t touch her, simply studying
her in return.

She wanted to withdraw, to run away
before he could see how empty she was on the inside. But then why
shouldn’t he see? What better way to repel him than to show him
what she was really like.

Lifting her chin, she silently dared
him to see the real her—the dried, ageing husk that he was so eager
to get to know.

She could feel him taking her in. All
of her—outside and in.

“
You aren’t going to scare
me away, you know.” Taking her hand, he lifted it to his lips for a
kiss.

She frowned, confused by the hiccup of
hope she felt inside where it’d been barren for so long. She took a
deep breath, trying to calm herself, but she inhaled his scent and
that confused her even more.

She used to inhale Harry, loving the
smell of him. She’d never tried to define it—he’d just smelled
right. After he’d died, she hadn’t changed the sheets on their bed
for weeks, until his scent was as gone as he was.

She hadn’t noted another man’s scent
since, but then no one except Treat had been this close to
her.

She tried to think of what her son
smelled like but drew a blank.

Grant smelled spicy. Foreign. Just a
little dangerous.

She reached for her
necklace.

He intercepted her hand, holding both
of hers in his. “Go out for a drink with me.”

Her head swam with disjointed
thoughts. She wanted to ask why. Why did he care so much? Why did
he want to spend time with her when she was obviously a shell of a
person?

But if she asked he’d tell her why,
and getting an answer scared her. So she shook her head.
“No.”

He nodded, letting her hands go.
“Okay.”

She frowned, surprised by his easy
acquiescence. Silly woman, she chided herself. This was what she
wanted. She nodded curtly and began to walk away.
“Good.”

His chuckle stopped her short. Turning
around, she narrowed her eyes at him. “What?”

“
Don’t take that to mean
I’m giving up.” He smiled fondly at her. “Never that,
darling.”

Frustration and something that felt
suspiciously like anticipation lit her from the inside out. “But I
just told you—”

“
You didn’t tell me
anything other than you don’t want to have a drink with me yet. I
understand. You don’t know me.” He shrugged. “A woman has to be
careful these days. But I’ll prove that you can trust
me.”

She opened her mouth and then closed
it again, not knowing how to reply.

He shrugged. “I shouldn’t have
expected you to go out with me when you hadn’t trusted me with your
name, but I had to try.”

“
Margaret,” she said
without thought.

“
Margaret,” he repeated
with a pleased sigh. “I’ll see you soon, Margaret.”

She continued on her way, feeling
dazed and unsure. She walked on autopilot, going directly to
Grounds for Thought.

She paused at the door, but something
compelled her inside, the same way it had every morning since Treat
had brought her that croissant.

Like every morning, the yeasty,
buttery smell greeted her. She inhaled it deeply, like it was a
drug and she needed a hit badly.

This morning the older woman was at
the counter. Margaret looked around for Eve Alexander, but the
owner was nowhere to be seen. A strange combination of
disappointment and relief filled her.

The barista smiled her. “Your
usual?”

Startled, she nodded mutely. The woman
recognized her enough to know her order. She sat at the counter
where she’d been sitting every morning and, terrified other people
recognized her too, she picked up a discarded newspaper, raised it
high, and pretended to read.

She had to stop going there. If word
got out that Crumpet’s owner preferred Grounds for Thought, it’d
kill her business for certain.

She found the idea of never having
another croissant more distressing than going out of business. She
didn’t know what to make of that.

“
Here you go.”

She lowered the paper as the woman
slid the coffee and croissant close to her. “Thank you.”

The woman smiled at her warmly.
“Enjoy.”

That was the problem—she did enjoy it.
Too much. She took a greedy bite of the croissant and had to fight
the urge to moan, it was so good. When had anything inspired that
sort of reaction from her?

When Grant had touched her.

She almost choked on that
realization.

Then anger rose like a dark tide in
her throat. Anger at Eve Alexander and her damn croissants. Anger
at Grant and his dimples.

Anger at herself and the spiraling
feeling that she was losing control of everything around
her.

She pushed the rest of the croissant
away. Almost tipping over her stool, she stumbled out of the café
and headed home. She needed air. She needed—

She didn’t know what she
needed.

Letting herself inside, she went
directly to her bathroom to take a shower.

As she took off her clothes, she
caught herself in the mirror. Growling, she threw her pants at her
reflection. She was damn sick of looking like this.

Scrabbling through her clothes, she
fished out her cell phone and looked through her address book for a
number she hadn’t called in ages.

“
Posh Hair Salon. Leave a
message with your name and number and we’ll return your call as
soon as possible,” the voicemail instructed.

“
I’d like to schedule an
appointment for a haircut.” Margaret looked at herself in the
mirror again. Money be damned—she was doing this right, even if it
meant eating tuna for a month. “And a color. As soon as
possible.”

Chapter Ten

His mom opened the door before Treat
even got close enough to knock. “Come in,” she said, taking his arm
and pulling him into her teashop.

He watched her look both ways down the
street before closing the door and locking it. Strange. “Are we
being watched?”

“
Don’t be
silly.”

“
Wait a second.” He looked
her up and down, noting the yoga pants and the hoodie. She looked
younger and more relaxed—not like his mother at all. If it weren’t
for the ever-present strand of pearls around her neck he would have
been worried. “Who are you, and what have you done with my
mother?”

She gave him a prim look. “You know I
go for a walk in the morning.”

“
Yes, then you go home and
immediately get dressed.” He frowned. “Seriously, Mom. Is something
wrong?”

“
Of course not.”

The way her gaze darted away from his
did little to reassure him. But if she didn’t want to confide in
him, what could he do? “So why did you want to see me this morning?
Is your sink acting up?”

“
I wanted to ask you about
making space for an event.”

“
What sort of
event?”

She touched her necklace. “I had
someone inquire about a speaking engagement here.”

“
How large of an event is
it?”

“
I’d like to fit as many
people as possible.” She gestured him to follow. “I thought of
putting a podium in front, and I’d like to keep a number of the
tables, but I may need to shift this wall.”

He looked at the half wall that
divided the front from the back. “That’s going to cost you. The
alteration itself won’t be that bad, but you’re looking at having
to close for a few days. The event is worth the
expense?”

“
Yes,” she said without
hesitation.

“
I’ll come back later and
take measurements. Maybe I can come up with something that’ll be
less invasive.”

“
Thank you, Treat.” She
took a deep breath. “Now I need you to go to Grounds for
Thought.”

The request caught him by surprise. He
faced her, suspicious. “Why?”

“
I want you to see how
their business is doing and—”

“
No.” Crossing his arms, he
shook his head. “I will not spy for you.”

She stiffened indignantly. “It’s not
spying.”

“
What is it
then?”

“
Research.”

“
You’re going to have to do
your own research.” The only research he was interested in
conducting at Grounds for Thought involved its gorgeous owner, and
he had no intention of reporting that back to his mother. He kissed
her cheek. “I’ll come back after work later to take
measurements.”

“
Treat—”

“
I love you,
Mom.”

That silenced her into a frown. Then
she said, “You’re just saying that to distract me.”

“
Is it working?”

She gave him the look that
she’d been giving him for thirty-four years—the one that said he
was cute but not
that
cute.

He grinned. “See you later,
Mom.”

Pecking her cheek again, he let
himself out of the store and walked down the street toward his
truck. He’d parked around the corner from Grounds for Thought.
Planning ahead. He just hoped his mom didn’t see him walk into the
café.

The sneaking around was insane. He
shook his head at himself. But he didn’t want Margaret to think
that he was doing her bidding, and he didn’t want to answer any
questions. Not yet. Not before he understood what was going on
between Eve and him.

Because something was definitely going
on.

He searched for Eve through
the window. She looked up at that same moment, and the smile that
lit her face made him
want.
He wanted her, her lips, her body naked and
writhing under his.

Pushing open the door, he walked
straight to her.

She leaned across the counter, her
chin on her hands. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

He lifted a brow. “How would you like
to meet?”

The older woman who worked as her
barista chortled and, with shooting a knowing look at Eve, made
herself scarce.

Eve cleared her throat and returned
her attention to him. “Mocha? Croissant?”

He lowered his voice. “You know that’s
not why I come here.”

She blushed adorably. “You haven’t
asked for anything more than that.”

“
It’s time to rectify that.
Do you have a moment?”

She nodded. Taking off her apron, she
motioned to her barista and stepped out from behind the counter.
“Come with me.”