Take the Cake (21 page)

“That and the chalkboard,” Michael added. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go in or not, but the quote outside gave me a laugh and,” he paused as he waved his arm, “here we are.” He came to a dead stop, which made Kate stumble forward a pace.

“You meant that literally.” Kate laughed as she straightened up and looked at the doorway. “I love the feel of this place,” she commented as Michael took her by the hand and led her down the stairs. “It’s like a basement for grown-ups.”

Michael grinned at her over his shoulder. “I like the way you see things. You’ve got a great filter on life.”

They paused at the bar to get a table. Michael put his hand on the small of her back to guide her through the bar toward a small table in a corner, and then held out her chair for her to sit down. Kate set down her bag and shrugged out of her denim jacket. She was wearing a simple leaf-green T-shirt with a v-neck that gathered between her breasts. She wore no jewelry save for a simple pair of hammered silver disks that swung at her ears.

“May I?” Michael asked, leaning forward and gesturing toward the earrings.

“Sure.” Kate leaned forward obligingly, and Michael captured one between his fingers to look at the intricate pattern of irises that had been engraved onto the disks. He released it and ran his fingers down the side of her neck, smiling as she shivered. “Was that just an excuse for you to cop a feel?”

“A bit,” he admitted. “Did it work?”

“Like a charm,” she replied.

“Thanks, I’ll have to remember that,” he replied, watching as she gave him a quick wink and then scanned the menu that sat on the table. After a moment, she reached up behind her to loosen her hair from its customary ponytail and shook it loose. Michael watched as the dark blond strands flowed around and over her shoulders, and the way her arms and breasts moved as she quickly ran her fingers through her hair to smooth it. He looked up and saw that she was watching him with a slight smile.

“So, was that an excuse for you to make me watch you?”

“Maybe,” she conceded. “Did it work?”

“Like a charm,” he replied. He shifted his weight and scooted his chair closer to hers and then reached out to drape his arm around her shoulders. “Now, how about that drink?”

~~~

Kate took another sip of her wine and leaned back in her chair, smiling as Michael ran his hand up and down her arm absently as they spoke. Without realizing it, the two of them seemed to be in physical contact all the time in one form or another: lightly touching the other’s arm to make a point, leaning against each other, and frequently stopping to exchange a gentle kiss.

“So tell me, Michael,” Kate ventured at last, “what is it that you’re writing?”

Michael had been about to take a sip of his wine, and now he stilled. He held his glass suspended for a moment, and then took a deliberate sip before carefully sitting the glass back down on its coaster.

“I don’t normally make a habit of talking about it while it’s still a work in progress.”

“I can understand that,” Kate said in what she hoped was an encouraging tone. “But can you give me a hint?”

“It’s about …” Michael licked his lips, he could taste the Shiraz he had just sipped, “… relationships, interconnectivity, the gulf stream …” He paused and sipped his wine again. “And argon.”

“Argon?” Kate cocked her head toward him. “It sounds like something from Jason and the Argonauts.”

Michael laughed. He always felt uncomfortable and exposed when he talked about his writing before the finished product had been released, but Kate had a way of coaxing words out of him. He gave her shoulders a squeeze, and she shifted closer to rest her warm hand on his thigh as he continued to speak.

“If I were being practical, I could tell you it’s a substance used in fluorescent lighting.”

“And if you were being a writer?” Kate prompted.

“Then I could tell you that every breath we take into our bodies contains maybe one percent of an element called argon. It doesn’t react with anything, and our bodies can’t break it down, so we breathe it in, and then breathe it back out.”

“And then what happens?” Kate shifted a little in her seat, sipping at her wine, watching Michael’s face. He was frowning a little, thinking before he spoke in low, measured tones. Kate leaned forward, keen not to miss a word.

“To the argon?” Michael shrugged. “Nothing. It keeps circulating around the world, everyone breathing it in and out, over and over.”

“It just keeps going forever?”

“Mm-hmm,” Michael said, setting down his glass. “Each breath we take contains, I don’t know, maybe millions of argon atoms.” He reached up and gently traced the tip of his finger along Kate’s lower lip. “We could be breathing the same atoms that were inhaled by Leonardo da Vinci while he painted the Mona Lisa, or by Christ and his Disciples at the Last Supper, or even the dinosaurs.” He brushed his lips against hers in a soft kiss.

“And it’s all interconnected,” Kate replied, gazing at Michael.

“Mm-hmm.” He nuzzled at her temple as he kept speaking. “The debates of philosophers, the battle cries of Waterloo, sighs of ancient lovers, and now …” He brushed a kiss against her cheek. “… the two of us.”

Kate sat there for a moment, absorbing his words, and then her eyes fluttered closed as he kissed her again. Her hand floated up to rest against his cheek to keep Michael’s lips against hers as they gently explored each other’s mouths.

Michael broke away and rested his cheek against hers for a moment, his eyes closed as he breathed in her scent, the familiar bouquet of cake and sunshine. He imagined the argon swirling from his body into hers, wondering if the element had somehow led him to her. He wondered if it had led him to the wellspring of words that his life had suddenly become.

~~~

Wren put her magazine down and reached for her glass, glancing over at the door of the Club Room, and then did a double take.

“I don’t believe it,” she muttered to herself, sipping her wine and watching as David made his way toward the bar. “Out of all the bars in this town, he walks into mine.”

She hadn’t been in the mood to go straight home after work and so, after a quick detour, had found a bar that looked good and gotten herself comfortable at a table with her glossy magazine and a glass of wine. Wren leaned back in her seat, enjoying the opportunity to watch him as he ordered his drink and exchanged a few words and a laugh with the barman. He looked a bit tired today but still moved with the easy self-assurance that she always noticed about him. Wren watched as he accepted his drink, stuffed his change into his hip pocket and turned to survey the room with his back against the bar.

David’s face went blank with surprise as he saw Wren sitting at a small table against the wall, and she raised her glass to him in a silent toast across the room. Smiling, he picked up his glass and made his way toward her.

“May I?” he asked, indicating the empty chair, pulling it out and taking a seat when she nodded. “So, you’ve had that kinda day too, huh?” He nodded at her glass.

“It wasn’t so bad.” Wren shrugged, sipping at her wine. “I just couldn’t decide what I wanted to do tonight, so I figured I’d come have a drink first.” She set her glass down and waved a hand toward the drink David was still holding. “You too?”

“Something like that,” he agreed. “Busy day at work, and I wasn’t quite ready to go home and be a couch potato.”

The two of them looked at each other and then both sighed at the same time, which made them laugh.

“I guess if neither of us feels like doing much, we might as well do it together,” David ventured and caught the eye of a waiter to wave him over. “Join me for dinner?”

“Sure,” Wren said, surprised at her easy acceptance. Once again, her evening had taken an unexpected turn, and it involved David. “They’ve got a decent tapas menu unless you want to go through to the dining room.”

David got a copy of the menu and scanned it briefly, then looked up at her with an inquiring smile. He had left the office with no clear plans for the evening other than having a drink on his way home, but now things were looking up.

“That sounds good, let’s make ourselves comfortable.”

~~~

“So how’s your wine?” Michael asked, watching Kate as she sipped at her glass. They’d had a couple of drinks now and had ordered some small dishes to snack on.

“Nice. Want a taste?” She held out her glass.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Michael leaned over and kissed her again. Kate’s mouth opened like a flower beneath his as she leaned into him. He had rested his hand on her thigh and now slid it up over her waist to pull her against him. When he broke off the kiss, Kate drew in a shaking breath and licked her lips. “Penny for your thoughts?” he prompted.

Kate looked at Michael, feeling the familiar warmth begin as it spiraled down low into her abdomen, and then lower still where it began to stoke the embers. Michael’s touch on her arm added fuel to the fire.

“I’m thinking that maybe I don’t want you to go home tonight,” Kate said, before sliding her hand around the nape of his neck and pulling his face back to hers. This time when they broke apart, Kate was smiling. “How is it that we always end up necking like a pair of teenagers?”

“I have no idea,” Michael murmured as he kissed just under her earlobe. “But you won’t hear me complaining.” He hooked a finger in the neckline of her T-shirt and tugged at it so that he could drop a kiss on her collarbone. Looking up, he saw a warm flush begin at Kate’s throat and sweep up into her face.

“Just so you know,” Kate declared as she trailed a finger across Michael’s stubble, “I don’t make a habit of this.”

“Nor do I,” Michael said, watching Kate’s face as she smiled at his answer. Her eyes were heavy as she gazed at him, and he could see the effects her arousal was having on her. Her lips were full and pink, matching the high color in her cheeks, and her breathing was shallow. He could smell the sweetness of the wine on her breath, knowing it was interlaced with the eternal argon that was swirling into his own body as he inhaled.

They were distracted from each other when their food arrived: a platter of olives, dips, and crusty bread to be torn apart and eaten with their fingers.

Kate chewed slowly, enjoying the saltiness of the olives, then tore off a piece of bread to dip in some olive oil. It had been a busy day, and she ate with relish. A warm dribble of olive oil ran down her thumb, and as she licked it off she looked across at Michael. He had been about to sip his wine, but instead he sat watching her, his eyes dark as he watched her tongue flicker over her skin.

~~~

It wasn’t long before Kate invited him back to her place, an offer he accepted with alacrity.

“Make yourself at home,” Kate called over her shoulder as she dropped her bag by the door and headed for the kitchen.

Michael paused in the living room, gazing at the profusion of color and warmth in the room. It reminded him of the bakery. Artwork, prints, and postcards jostled for space, making the walls glow with color. He smiled as he saw the bookshelves and made his way toward them, curious to see what sort of reader Kate was. Running his fingers over the book spines, he saw that she seemed to be as eclectic in her reading tastes as she was with everything else. Tudor history, science fiction, autobiographies, the whole range was there. His eyes flickered quickly over the shelves, and he noted that he didn’t see any of his books there. He wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or disappointed, and he turned when he heard Kate’s footsteps approach.

“I should’ve known that you’d home in on the books.” Kate smiled as she walked toward him, a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other.

“Force of habit.” Michael smiled. “You’ve certainly got a good collection going here.”

“But none of yours,” Kate added. “I’ll have to change that. I think I’d like to see what you’ve come up with in the past.” She cocked her head as she looked at him. “Come to think of it, I haven’t looked up any of your books yet.”

“No rush,” Michael replied, taking the glasses from her and dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose. “You’ll probably find something on Google.”

“Hell, I can probably find myself on Google.” Kate laughed.

While Michael poured the wine, Kate kicked off her shoes and socks, sinking down onto the sofa beside him and stretched out her legs, crossing them at the ankles. She leaned forward and fumbled for the iPod dock remote, and soon one of her “chill” playlists was filtering through the apartment. Michael passed her a glass of wine, and she accepted it with a smile of thanks, chinking her glass against his before taking a sip.

Michael rested his arm around Kate’s shoulder, and she snuggled in against him, rubbing one of her feet up her calf as she gave a mild stretch of contentment.

“What’s that?” Michael gestured with his hand that held his glass of wine toward Kate’s feet.

“What’s what?” Kate didn’t understand what he was looking at and moved her feet to look at the coffee table.

“Not the table. You.” Michael laughed, putting his class of wine down so that he could grasp Kate’s calf, pulling her leg across his lap. Curious, he traced his forefinger across the flowing script that ran around her inner ankle.

“There’s one on the other ankle too, see?” Kate lifted her other leg slightly to show him.

Enchanted, Michael maneuvered Kate so that she sat perpendicular to him, her thighs across his lap so that he could look at both ankles. It took him a moment to realize that the words he was reading weren’t in English.

“Latin?” he guessed and got a nod of acknowledgment. He mouthed the words to himself and then turned to her, curious to find out more. “I can’t even guess. You’ll have to tell me.”

Kate leaned forward. “This one,” she said, tracing her finger across her left ankle, “says ‘Receive Joy,’ and the other says ‘Give Joy.’” She leaned her shoulder against the couch, her breasts pressing against Michael’s arm as he rubbed his hand up and down her thigh, his other hand gently cupping an ankle.

“There’s a story behind them,” he said in a quiet voice, gently tracing a finger over the inked pattern, staring at the contrast of the ink against her pale skin, the way the letters flowed in a fluid wave as she flexed her foot.