Take Me I'm Yours (Coffee House Chronicles) (25 page)

“I can’t tell you. Not yet,” he said.

“But you can tell Delilah?”

With weak arms that refused to cooperate, she shoved at him again, but he didn’t budge an inch. He was twice her size and much stronger. She didn’t really expect it to do any good.

“Let me go, Graeme. If you want her, far be it from me to stand in your way.”

“What?”

His brows drew together as confusion went over his face, then dawning. His expression softened, giving her a glimpse at what she thought he might be thinking.
You’re crazy. Don’t you know I love you?
And he moved closer—if that were possible.

She thought she muttered something else about letting her go but his hand was in her hair, tipping her head back and then he was kissing her. Fiery, passionate, searing kisses. Their mouths fused like a soldiering iron fusing metal. It instantly made her weak, her knees threatening to buckle.

So she slipped her arms around his neck, pulled him to her and kissed him back, if only to keep herself on her feet. She kissed him with as much fervor and ardor as he kissed her. She kissed him because she loved him perhaps as much as he loved her, though he had yet to announce it. She kissed him because she felt like an utter fool for thinking he could want Delilah instead of her. And she kissed him because, whether she liked it or not, he
was
the one. Like Delilah had said. And she felt guilty for picking a fight with her friend.

All those reasons were perhaps why she allowed him to touch her, to slip his hand inside her and feel her dampness. All for him. She wanted him to know how much she wanted him. She wanted him to know how much she had longed for his touch, how much she had wished he would sweep her into his arms and take her away from this horrid place
.

Marion clutched the thick hair at
the nape of his neck, her hand slipping between their bodies and feeling his hard cock through his soft gray slacks. He ground against her, wanting her as much as she wanted him.

And if she hadn’t been a total bitch and said the things she had or thought the things she had, maybe they had another shot.
She managed to finally shove him away and slip out of his arms. She hurried as fast as she could away from him, feeling as though something had been ripped from her when she left him.

A cold fist had closed around her heart, shattering what resilience was left.

She tried hard to rein that in so Ethan wouldn’t see. But as she approached the table, she noticed he was gone. Marion stared at his empty chair with the napkin haphazardly flung on the seat, trying to comprehend. His gin and tonic was empty, the ice melting and the glass sweating. Her wine still sat untouched, the glass frosty with condensation.

“He left, ma’am.” It was the voice of the waiter behind her. Adding insult to injury, he called her
ma’am
. “Are you staying for dinner?”

“Did he pay for the drinks?”
Her voice sounded distant, hollow, as though she were in a long tunnel, the light closing in on her.

“No, miss.”

That bastard!
“How much?” Yes, how much more of this emotional rollercoaster could she take?

“I’ll close you out.”

Oh, it would be excruciating having to wait for the check. “Just a minute.” She reached into her handbag, pulled out two twenty dollar bills and shoved them at him. “Is that enough?”

He stared at it
dumbly before finally nodding and taking the money. “Yes.”

She didn’t waste another minute. She headed for the door as fast as her legs could take her. On the way out, she saw Delilah sitting at the bar, her long legs crossed, sipping a martini and flirting with the bartender
, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Graeme was nowhere to be found either.

As soon as Marion was outside the restaurant, she burst into tears.

* * * * *

The peal of the phone ringing woke Marion out of a dead sleep. She forced her eyes open to the gray light filtering through her bedroom windows. The phone rang again and her head throbbed painfully with the sound. She couldn’t bring herself to pick it up
.

When she finally got home last night, she’d taken a hot shower and fell into bed, crying herself to sleep. She
last glanced at the clock shortly after four in the morning. Now the red numbers told her it was half past nine.

She lay back and closed her eyes, the phone ringing once more. Her answering machine finally picked up and Ethan’s voice sounded through the speaker
.

“Marion…pick up. I know you’re there.” Pause.
“I want to talk to you about last night.
”

Yeah, right. As if she wanted to talk to
him
about that. What was to talk about? He left her there. She got the closure she needed. Ethan was still the same. He hadn’t changed.

“Whatever Graeme told you
about me isn’t true.”

Her eyes popped
open and she sat straight up, her head objecting to the sudden movement. Ethan had paused again as she stared at the extension in her bedroom, indecision gripping her. She should pick it up? What did he mean by that?

“I really need to talk to you.
I’ll be at the Bonjour Café in an hour if you want to meet me.”

There was a click and then he hung up.
Stunned, she blinked to clear her head. What did he mean, whatever Graeme said wasn’t true? He never mentioned Ethan, perhaps because she wouldn’t let him talk in the first place. And perhaps because she had let him press her into the wall and kiss her senseless.

And
, God, she had so loved those fiery passionate kisses.

She slid to the edge of the bed, her legs dangling over as she contemplated. She could go, find out what he had to say. Because if she knew Ethan, he was trying to cover up something Graeme should have told her
.

If she hurried, she could make herself presentable in time for the meeting
.

* * * * *

Forty minutes later, she headed toward downtown and parked in a nearby lot. She waited in the car, counting the minutes until she collected her nerves long enough to get out and walk toward the café. She wanted to make sure Ethan was there before her, so she wouldn’t have to sit alone.

He sat
outside, the intermittent sun shining on the white wrought iron table. He read the Sunday newspaper and in front of him he had a cup of coffee and a glass of water with condensation running down the sides. He’d been there a while. Good.

Through her
dollar store shades, she kept her gaze pinned on him and took a deep breath. She had to play this to get him to tell her exactly what he thought she already knew.

She
paused at the edge of the table, like that morning he had interrupted her brunch. He hadn’t seen her yet.

“Hello, Ethan.”

He lifted her gaze and gave her a faint smile before he folded the newspaper and set it aside. He rose and reached for her, intending to hug her but she backed away.

“Fair enough,” he said. He motioned to the chair opposite him and took his seat.

Marion remained standing, hesitating, before she finally sat. The waiter came over immediately and asked to take her drink order. She waved him away. No, she wanted to get to the point and get this over with.

“Well?” she prompted.

“Thanks for coming.” He picked up his mug took a sip of coffee. “Will you take off your glasses so I can look you in the eye?”

“No.” There was no way she’d give him the satisfaction of seeing her puffy, red eyes. “Get on with it.”

“About last night…” He paused, his words trailing away.

“Are you going to say you’re sorry?” she asked. “Because I’m getting damn tired of hearing everyone say that to me.”

His gaze flicked her up to hers and he said nothing. She huffed out a breath. Suddenly, she didn’t really give a fig about any plans to coerce information out of him. It was time to end this nonsense once and for all.

“I’m sorry
too,” she said. “I’m sorry I allowed myself to get sucked into your life. I’m sorry I nearly allowed you back in a second time. I’m sorry I thought we could have a nice future together. I’m sorry I don’t love you the way you love me—or think you love me.”

“Marion—”

“I’m sorry you think I’m the prize, chasing me all over town with these sad-eyed looks hoping I’ll cave.” She leaned forward on the table. “So why don’t you tell me, in your own words, exactly what this is all about?”

He looked stunned. As if this was a Marion he never knew existed. And maybe she didn’t until now. Maybe it took two years to find her courage to stand up to Ethan Baxter
, III.

After a long silence, he finally said, “My father told me I had to marry you. I had to find some way to get you back. He said if I didn’t, I could forget getting
promoted in the family business.”

The family business,
she knew, was one of the top money management firms in the area. His father was CEO and Ethan had been in the business since he graduated college, being groomed for an executive level position. She hadn’t realized his father controlled that much of his life.

And now that she thought about it, she wondered if her mother had something to do with it
too.
I ran into his mother at the country club...
Her words came flooding back to her and it all made sense.

“My mother says she can’t show her face at the country club,” he continued, staring down into his coffee. “Like she’s disgraced or something.”

“I guess they were tired of your porno girlfriends, then, huh?” Marion said. “Is that what Graeme was going to tell me?”

His head sn
apped up. First shock then rage filtered over his features. Those brown eyes widened and then narrowed. And she wasn’t the least bit frightened of that look anymore.

“No, he didn’t tell me,” she said before he could say a word. “I didn’t give him a chance.
I wish I had and I won’t make that same mistake again.” She stood up, then, looking at him for the last time. “We’re finished, Ethan. Forget my number and don’t ever come looking for me again. Got it?”

As she walked away from the Bonjour Café,
he shouted at her back, “He’ll never be good enough for you, Marion!”

A
weight had finally been lifted. Closure. She had it and was free.

Chapter Eighteen

The only person in the world that would love her victory as much as Marion did was Delilah. Unfortunately, she was too embarrassed to call her despite the fact she owed her a huge apology. There had never been this type of silence between the two of them and it hurt. She held her cell phone in her hand and looked at her address book numerous times.

Two days passed since
the morning she told Ethan to screw off. Finally, Marion sucked it up and called Delilah late in the afternoon. She needed to apologize. It wasn’t worth losing her friend.

“Mar,” Delilah answered, her tone cool.

“Hi,” she said. She didn’t want to admit she was a bundle of nerves. “I was thinking maybe we could meet for coffee?”

There was a pause, and for a moment Marion thought she would turn her down. But surely her friend would realize she was trying to reach out to her.

“At this late hour of the day?”

“Sure, why not?” Marion said, casually.

“Mar, you know what it’ll do to my nerves,” Delilah said.

She
could definitely sense the brush-off. “There’s always decaf.” Another long silence and she huffed. “I’m trying to make amends so please don’t make this harder on me. Meet me for girl talk and a big fat apology, okay?”

“Where do you want to meet?”

She tugged on her lower lip. Where, indeed? They needed to mix it up and try something different.

They needed the Bitter End Coffee House.
Bingo!

“The Bitter End in downtown. Do you know where that is?”

She gave Delilah directions and they set a time. When she hung up, she knew she was headed to the Bitter End for a reason other than meeting Delilah. And that reason was a six foot, blue-eyed one named Graeme.

* * * * *

Marion got to the Bitter End first and ordered a large latte. She sipped it while she waited and perused the latest array of magazines on a nearby table.

Not long after that Delilah arrived looking stunning. Her long strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a sleek low ponytail. She wore a turquoise off-the-shoulder top and faded blue jeans with turquoise strappy sandals which, Marion knew, would be some big name couture like
Christian Louboutin or Manolo Blahnik.

“Mar,” she greeted
with a nod.

“So what are they?”
she pointed to her shoes. “Louboutin or Manolo?”