Raspberry Crush (9 page)

Okay, if she didn't stop fixating on him, soon she'd be reliving the day they'd met....

It had been a rainy Tuesday afternoon; she remembered the silvery wetness streaked across the windows at the Prudential food court. She often took her lunch breaks there, and on that particular day Seth had been in front of her in the line for Chinese. When he'd glimpsed her standing behind him, he'd turned and smiled.

"After you," he'd said, which came as a shock, because whatever chivalry wasn't dead in this world was rarely reserved for her. Instantly she'd had a crush on him. And not because he was cute, or because of the sexy, rusty timbre of his voice. But because he'd given her his place in line. Once she was seated at a table, with an overflowing plate of orange chicken, he'd approached her. "Uh, I don't mean to bother you," he'd said, "but was it just me, or did we have some really good eye contact over by the egg rolls?" After that, lunches had turned into dinners, movies had turned into romance, and Billy had started to fall in love....

Just then, Mark stood up.
Yay, are we finally leaving?
"Anyone want another drink while I'm up?" he asked.

Billy slumped back down in her seat.

Oh, well.
There was no point in complaining (much). Meeting out had been her idea—her fault and nobody else's. She had just wanted to kill time after work, and she'd mistakenly thought that soon after Mark got to the bar, they would head back to her place.

But she supposed there was plenty of time for that.
What time does this place close, again?
she wondered.

Now, as she watched Mark approach the bar, Billy felt a twinge of jealousy. Girls were eyeing him left and right, and he was smiling like he was the most approachable guy in the world. But it was okay; Billy knew she was the one he wanted. At least at this point—while she watched Mark chat excitedly with the cute female bartender—she was pretty sure she was.

Chapter 7

"That's it; I've officially given up on women."

Seth shot his friend Joe a look that said,
Yeah right,
as the waitress set down their Cokes. They'd stopped in a grubby little diner known for its juicy bacon cheeseburgers and tangy sea-salt fries. The two men had met several years ago when Seth's older brother, Ian, had played on Joe's charity baseball team.

"No, I mean it," Joe insisted, picking up his glass. "All the women I like end up being high-maintenance and insane." He took a giant gulp, as if to strengthen his resolve.

"They're not all like that," Seth said with a laugh. "You're just picky."

Joe shrugged. "Fine, then I'm picky." Earlier he'd told Seth what had happened on the subway—how he'd bumped into a knockout brunette, how she'd had dark, sexy eyes, how he'd thought they'd shared a moment, and how she'd called him a pervert. "And the thing is,
I
was the one trying to help
her,"
he said, revisiting the subject for the fifth time. Seth nodded, also for the tenth time. "I already had the handrail—I was the one trying to balance
her."

"Uh-huh," Seth said, restlessly twisting his straw wrapper through his fingers while he glanced around the diner. With a checkered counter with shiny chrome stools and Formica tables with black vinyl booths, the cozy little place was comfortingly the same as it'd always been.

"Women," Joe said with exasperation.

"And speaking of women," Seth said, anxious for a segue—they'd only been talking about the psychotic brunette for the last half hour—"Did I tell you who I saw today?"

Joe arched a questioning eyebrow.

"Billy." Damn... saying her name out loud made her seem closer somehow, almost there. He expelled a shallow breath, remembering her face, those eyes—
her.
How inviting it felt to hold her warm body in his arms again; she'd folded right into him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Heat stirred in his groin as he recalled the way she'd clung to him. How his dick had ached for her, and how the smell and feel of her had nearly sucked the breath right out of him.

"Billy? Hey, no kidding," Joe said, breaking into a smile and coming more alive. "How the hell is she? God, she was a great kid; I really liked that girl."

"I remember," Seth said, grinning. In fact, Joe used to act like a protective older brother with Billy, as if she needed to be protected—and from Seth.

"What's she doing these days?" Joe asked. "Still working at that company downtown?"

"No. Actually, she's working at a bakery now," Seth said, running his hand along his jaw, which was starting to feel bristly. "Decorating cakes."

"What?"
Undoubtedly Joe was surprised because he'd always considered Billy particularly bright, artistic, and intelligent; if it were up to him, she'd be drawing aesthetically pleasing blueprints for NASA.

"She's between jobs right now," Seth explained. "I offered to try to help her, but she said no."

"Help her how?"

"Call some contacts," Seth replied. He still had quite a few in Boston.

"How is business, anyway?" Joe asked.

"Fine—shit, that reminds me! I was supposed to call Lucas and check what happened with the Dore account," Seth said, patting his pant pockets for his cell phone. Fuck, how could he have forgotten? Dore Research Institute was the firm's biggest client—Jesus, it was
important.

No cell in his pocket. He'd forgotten that, too, and left it back at the house. Where was his brain today (besides in his cock)?

"Here you go," the waitress said, setting down their plates. The salty aroma of bacon cheeseburgers and golden-brown fries wafted through the air. Inexplicably more enticing than the takeout Seth charged to his company whenever he worked late. In the back of his mind, he sometimes wondered if his plaintive discontent was typical. Was it only natural to question the present order of things? And was the hollow ache he'd been feeling in his chest lately normal?

Maybe he was just more pensive these days because his thirty-second birthday was coming up in November. And even though he was happy for his brother, Ian, maybe hearing how much fuller and better his life was with his wife by his side made Seth feel even lonelier.

"Anyway, if you see Billy again, give her my best," Joe said, biting into his burger.

Seth nodded as his mind echoed the words,
If I see her again.
In that moment, he knew that he would. He would go to the Dessert Jubilee that weekend, which up until yesterday he'd had no intention of doing. The truth was, he felt almost tormented by the intense pull to see Billy again—to talk to her, just to get close to her. Even if it was only as friends, he wanted to know her again.

Of course, they hadn't been able to be friends back when he'd first moved to Seattle; Billy had said it was just too painful. But now, with so much time having passed, why not? True, she still aroused the hell out of him, but he could handle that... right?

Anyway, the past was water under the bridge; he didn't even know why he kept dwelling on it. He supposed it was because, unlike other relationships that were not great matches and so had played out to their natural end, he and Billy had never gotten the chance to find out what might have been between them.

"So is she married?" Joe asked now, breaking Seth's reverie.

Seth shrugged. "I didn't see a ring." Damn—he'd said too much.

Cocking a brow, Joe grinned. "So you looked for a ring, huh?"

Seth didn't bother defending himself. "Shut up."

Joe just laughed.

* * *

"Well... bye," Billy said softly, leaning up to kiss Mark on the mouth. He returned the gesture with a few moist lip presses before pulling back. She'd wanted to walk him out to steal a few more kisses, but now she wasn't quite sure why.

"Good night, cutie," he said with a smile. "Make sure you lock up." With a happy-go-lucky bounce in his step, he disappeared down her darkened street. Billy stood on the front steps of her brownstone, smiling after him—bemused and a little sleepy.

After they'd spent a couple (interminable) hours at the Kenmore Pub, they'd come back to Billy's apartment, watched a little TV, and made out on the couch. It had been nice. Very, very nice. He was a man; she was a woman. Nice.

Now, as Billy turned to go inside, a chill cut sharply across her chest. She hugged herself while wind whistled low through the air and sent leaves sweeping and fluttering down the street. It was a crisp, eerie kind of night, emphasized by the blackened windows of the brownstone. In fact, the only apartment lit up was hers, on the third floor.

As she slipped her key into the lock, she heard a rustling in the shrubs behind her. Abruptly she spun around, but there was nothing there. Nothing she could see, anyway, so she turned back to the door. Then she heard it again.

Instinctively, her pulse kicked up. The wind had stopped, so what was that rustle?

Probably a raccoon.

A twig snapped loudly behind her.
That's not a raccoon,
she thought, just as her key got jammed in the old, tarnished lock. Leaves crackled behind the shrubs, and even though she still couldn't see anything, her chest shuddered with fear.
Damn it!
She struggled with both hands to turn the key, but the lock rattled and resisted. Her heart pounded in her ears, and her palms began to sweat.

Finally the key turned. Shoving hard on the heavy front door, Billy hurried inside and leaned all her weight on it so it would close quickly. With a hand to her heart, she glanced back through the side window. Nothing. It must've only been an animal. Sighing with relief, she thanked God it had been only her imagination running rampant, and jogged up the stairs to her apartment.

Twenty minutes later Billy was showered and balled up on her sofa under her favorite afghan, with Pike resting lazily near her lap. With a contented sigh she thought how much she loved this apartment. There were unfinished paintings and stacks of books all around, and oversize furniture that should've made the place feel cluttered, but instead, just made it feel cozy. White and colored lights glowed warmly in her living room, and a pumpkin-scented candle flickered brightly on the coffee table.

Coffee!
That was a good idea. On the way to the kitchen she stopped at the table in the front hall because she noticed the flashing red "2" on the answering machine. That was right—she'd ignored the phone when she and Mark had been cuddling on the couch. Now she turned the volume up and hit play.

"Billy? It's Mom. Aren't you home yet? Belinda, if you're home, pick up. Okay—I guess you're not home. (Another pause.) Well, I called to see how you're doing—and also to tell you I got the number of that headhunter I told you about. Remember Gladys Belding's son, Kip? Gladys said you should call him right away to set something up. Apparently he's new, but he's already doing fantastic with it. I want you to call him." She recited Kip Belding's number, and repeated it four times. "Don't forget to call him," she added. "He'll be able to get you some interviews and find you a real job. And call me after you talk to him, and tell me what he says. Don't forget to let me know. Okay, I'll see you tomorrow night for dinner. I love you. Call me about Kip—bye."

She hit next to hear the second message, but there was nothing. A little static, then silence. But there was no dial tone, indicating that the caller was still on the line when the machine was recording. A trace of anxiety crept into Billy's chest as she listened to the charged silence that stretched across the line, and then—

Brriinng!

She jumped, startled by the loud shrilling of the phone. Pike leaped off the couch, barking. "Hello!" Billy said, after snatching up the receiver.

"Hey—are you okay?"

"Oh, God," she said on a breath, and clutched her chest. "You scared me."

"Why?" Corryn asked. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no, it's nothing," Billy said, catching her breath, and resting the cordless between her ear and her shoulder. She petted Pike and rubbed under his chin to calm him down. "There was just this hang-up call on my machine, and then the phone rang...." Her voice trailed off as she realized how silly she sounded. What was wrong with her today?

As she trailed into the kitchen, Pike followed, barking again. "Shh, be quiet, sweetie," Billy said, petting him, "or Lady McAvit will call Animal Control."

"Oh, God, would she
really
?" Corryn said.

"Who knows anymore?" Billy replied, and reached for the sack of Columbian coffee beans she kept in the freezer.

"Hey, want to hear a real asshole story?" Corryn asked.

"Of course, what happened?"

"Okay, so I'm on the E line today, and the guy next to me tweaks my nipple."

"What!" Billy froze mid coffee grinding. "Are you
serious?"

"Oh, but wait, that's not even the best part," Corryn said. "The guy's a
cop."

"What!"

"I know! I couldn't believe it. Just when I thought I'd seen it all, I discover yet another dimension to the pathetic desperation of men."

"Seriously. Did you say anything?" Billy asked.

Corryn went on to give her a full account of what had happened on the train, including the part about how she hadn't actually
seen
the green-eyed, overdeveloped guy do it, but it just had to be him. "Anyway, how was your night?"

Billy filled her in on the Kenmore Pub—namely, how it was fun until Mark the boyfriend turned into Mark the politician. "I don't know," she said now. "I just wish he didn't have to be on all the time."

And she wished
she
could be more on—
turned
on
.

"Yeah, Kane was on all the time too," Corryn said. "On the
prowl."

Just then Billy remembered the cute female bartender, and every other girl whose face lit up for Mark. "That isn't making me feel better," she said.

"Oh, no, no! I'm sorry; I didn't mean anything about Mark. I was just ranting."