Forbidden Fruit (13 page)

“
Me? Mine is almost finished. How is yours coming?”

“
Yeah right,” I peered over to see his and my jaw dropped. “How did you do that?”

I was staring at another amazing garden, just like the one I saw in my dream last night.

He closed my jaw with two electrifying fingers, “With paint and a brush, love, how else?”

I was no longer concerned with the perfection of the piece. Instead, I was struck by the similarity of my dream garden, the one that included him.

“
Lily?”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. Instead I just looked at him and tried to work through the answers to some questions I had. Did he know about my dream? No, that was impossible, and even if he did, how could he paint it so perfectly? Things weren’t making sense. Something was going on here, and I was being kept in the dark. I hate the dark.

“
Lily?” he asked, worry coating his voice.

“
Yeah?” I asked, snapping back to reality.

“
What’s wrong?”

“
Nothing, I…Is there something you want to tell me?”

He stared at me with dread in his eyes. That was it, I thought. He was hiding something, something he was afraid to tell me.

After what seemed an eternity of swimming in those dark windows of his soul, he gave a grim smile and said, “Not yet.”

That should have been enough for me to run away, far away from him. But it wasn’t. I was so enamored with him I couldn’t. Plus, I really wanted to know what he was so afraid to tell me, curiosity gnawing at me. So I agreed to see him again that night.

I was determined to find out more about Michael tonight. Yes, he was hiding something from me, and I wanted answers, but I could be patient. What I really wanted tonight was more of him. I wanted to know who he was, what he liked, and where he came from. Someone as complex and alluring as him had to have an amazing story, an amazing life.

Michael picked me up with his usual doorbell ring, right on time.

“Hi,” I chimed as I swung open the heavy wooden door. His expectant face lit up when he saw me. My heart ached. No one had ever looked at me like that before.

He did a once over, eyes traveling down and then back up to mine, “You look beautiful.”

The observation was well-appreciated. I just hoped he didn’t guess how long it took me to get ready, or how many outfits I blew through to find this one. I was so worked up to see him again that I spent the entire afternoon trying to make myself look like I deserved to belong beside him, even if it was a long shot.

“Thanks,” I blushed.

We traveled through the city, managing to hit every green light, and arrived at the aquarium. I was surprised at his choice of a date. I loved the aquarium, but I hadn’t expected him to.

He grinned, “You’re surprised.”

“Can you read minds?” I was only partly joking. I really was beginning to wonder.

He laughed aloud, “I’m observant love.” Then he chucked me under the chin. “The wide-eyed look and open mouth expression gave it away.”

“Oh.” Was my mouth really open?
Damn it!

“Are you disappointed that I can’t read your mind?” He looked amused.

“No,” I defended myself. It just meant I had one less theory about him.

He laughed, “Are you ready?”

I went to open my door and he shot out of his seat, “I got it,” he called as he trotted around the back of the car, mumbling something about ‘women these days.’

I waited for him to hold the car door while I got out feeling more than a little special. “Are you always such a gentleman?”

“Only to those who deserve it,” he said with all sincerity.

“So how do you treat those who don’t deserve it?” I fished.

A dangerous gleam shown in his eyes, and he gave a bemused grin, “I hope you never find out.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of that. I joked, “So should I be more afraid of you or Jason?”

He got that serious look back on his face, a warning. “I think you should stay away from Jason.”

“I know. But you didn’t answer the question,” I noted.

“What does your gut tell you?” He looked forlorn.

“I think you could be dangerous…” I began, thinking of how he looked at Jason. I had never seen anyone look so menacing. Then I thought about the way he looked at me, on the pier, and then I remembered how he jumped in and saved me. “But I’m not afraid of you. I feel safe with you,” I admitted.

He tilted his head to the side, curiosity flashed across his face, mixed with an emotion I couldn’t place. Was he disappointed or sad that I didn’t fear him? One more question to add to the ever-growing list.

Michael purchased our tickets and we walked through the double glass doors.

“
Sweet, we have the place to ourselves,” I stated the obvious. The aquarium was dead. If we weren’t the only people there, then everyone else was in hiding.

We passed through the first floor exhibits, enjoying the quiet serenity. The water-filled cases of colorful, exotic creatures were soothing to the soul.

On the second floor, we found the current display. I gasped in surprise, “They have a whole seahorse exhibit!”

Michael just smiled.

Immediately walking up to the main tank, I peered in at the beautiful creatures I so loved. I watched in awe as the pairs of seahorses, with their tails twisted around each other, floated elegantly through the water.

Michael walked up next to me and I turned to him, feeling like a kid in a candy store, “I love seahorses!”

“Why is that?” he asked, genuinely interested.

“They are the most romantic animals!”

He grinned. “Oh yeah?”

I continued, “They mate for life. They swim around together, entwining their bodies with one another-they rarely part.” I thought of the other, more morbid reason they are romantic. “And if you separate them, they usually die. And even if they don’t, they will never mate with another.”

Michael stared at me with sad, dark eyes.

“
I know it sounds bleak…”

Michael entwined his fingers with mine and dropped his face, peering at me through long, dark lashes. “I think it’s romantic too. But…” he hesitated, seeming to wage an internal war with himself. “Could you bear being parted from your soul mate?”

I swallowed. There was so much intense emotion placed in those words. “I would rather have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.”

He let out a breath, and squeezed my hands. Then he brought them to his mouth and gave each a soft kiss sending electricity skirting through my body. “I hope you never have to lose.” He said it so softly, I doubted he meant for me to hear.

Me too, I thought. He was so intense in that moment, I wondered if he was really here or somewhere else, in some memory that dredged up feelings of love and loss.

His eyes were closed, and he took several deep breaths, my hands still on his lips. He seemed so sad. “Are you okay?” I asked in barely a whisper.

He opened those deep, beautiful eyes, hazy with memories, and admitted, “I haven’t been this close in so long.”

Bingo
, I thought. He was sad, hurt by some past relationship, and he was finally trying to be close to someone again. It would explain why he wasn’t eagerly eating up the attention every girl in school was offering. Finally, an answer.

He sighed and once more gave each hand a soft kiss, then dropped only one. “Are you ready for dinner?”

I nodded.

We walked hand in hand up to the rooftop of the Vendue Inn, a restaurant poised in the east side of the city, with views of the harbor and historic district. The night sky was crisp and the light breeze circling the umbrella donned tables smelled of coconut rum and crab cakes. Michael leaned toward the hostess and requested, “A corner table.”

“
Right this way,” the short, busty redheaded hostess said dreamily. She was clearly in awe of Michael. No surprise there, so was I. “Your server will be right with you,” she said directly to Michael, oblivious to me. As we took our seats, I couldn’t help but smile in amusement.

“
What?” Michael pried.

The server was right on the hostesses’ heels, and we ordered our drinks, as I watched her ogle Michael as well.

I stared at him for a second, trying to determine if he was playing dumb or really didn’t know how people looked at him. I got nowhere. His usual perfectly composed expression met my stare. “So what does it feel like to have people drooling over you everywhere you go?” I asked curiously.

He tilted his head to the side. “You tell me.”

I laughed aloud. Now that was just ridiculous. “Sorry, I can’t help you there.”

“
Why? Are you saying you didn’t notice the guy in the red shirt, when we first walked in, or the couple of frat guys at the bar right now?”

“
What?” I consciously looked around. I found the guy with the red shirt. He looked deeply interested in his food, not looking at anyone. Then I looked at the bar. I saw a group of guys flirting with the bartender. None of them were interested in me.

“
Look, I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, but I’m serious. I mean, everywhere I have been with you people stop and stare at you like they’ve never seen anything like you before.”

He leaned forward, “And all the while, I’ve never seen anything like you.”

He spoke so strangely sometimes. He was flattering for sure, but I had a hard time believing that. A guy like him should be with a model, a six foot tall, immaculately beautiful woman, not an inexperienced seventeen-year-old like me.

“
You don’t believe me,” he noticed.

“
I can’t.”

He grinned, “My humble beauty. I could walk this earth for ten thousand years and never find anyone more beautiful than you. You’re perfect to me.”

“
But you don’t even know me,” I couldn’t help but to point out.

I swore I heard him say, “Au contraire,” as he took a swig of his drink.

I sat there feeling small, unable to fill the big shoes he created for me. Trying to change the subject, I asked, “So where did you move from?”

He looked caught off guard for a split second before his face changed to nonchalance, “New York.”

“
Oh,” I said, feeling a bit disappointed. I think I was expecting him to say something exotic, like Egypt or Tanzania.

He laughed.

“
So what brought you here?”

“
Business.”

“
What kind of business?” What sort of teenager traveled for business?

“
My father sends me to places around the world to do his bidding,” he explained.

“
And what sort of bidding is that?” I probed.

“
If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he teased. There was humor in his eyes, but I thought there might also be a little bit of truth in his words.

I was going to get at least one straight answer out of him before the date ended. “So, you’re saying you travel the world doing the bidding of your mob boss father?” I guessed.

“
Something like that,” he evaded.

He wasn’t going to tell me what he or his father did. New direction, “So where were you before New York?”

“
Brazil.”

“
Before that?”

“
Siberia.”

“
Before that?”

“
Washington.”

“
Before that?”

“
Scotland.”

“
How old are you?”

He opened his mouth and then caught himself. After he cleared his voice he said, “Eighteen.”

“
How old were you when you started working for your dad?”

“
I’ve worked for him for as long as I can remember.”

I had the image of a child thrown into a mob war in diapers and I shivered.

“
Are you cold?” he asked, misreading me.

“
No.” I tried to see the hurt little boy that must be hidden deep inside of him, but I didn’t see one. There was nothing in his eyes that would suggest he was anything but powerful and in control.

He laughed, “Have I scared you then?” He almost looked hopeful.

“
No,” I truthfully admitted.

Our food came and I used it as an excuse to sink into my own thoughts. I had thrown a lot of questions at him and had gotten even more in return. I thought knowing where he came from and about his family would explain a lot, but instead I felt even more lost than before. So far, I had gathered that he worked for an elusive mobster father and traveled the globe doing things he either could not or would not speak about, which amounted to even more unanswered questions.

After dinner, we walked back toward the car, no longer hand in hand.

“
I have scared you,” he grumbled.

“
No,” I said immediately.

“
Then why have you become so quiet?”

“
I’m just thinking.”