Tempted (44 page)

“What?
 
Not even to Giselle?”

“Nope,” he says, beaming and grinning from ear to ear.

Suddenly
,
I feel a slight melancholy, more of an empathy really, for Giselle.
 
I feel it for David too, for his never having had the joy of sharing that feeling with a woman before.
 
The thought that I am the first is like a charge of adrenaline for me, and I instantly feel like a goddess.

He orders a bottle of Veuve Clicquot for us to share with the petit fou
rs and chocolates that end the eight
-
course meal.
 
While the sommelier pops the cork, David takes the red rose from the centerpiece and hands it to me.
 
Champagne, chocolates and now a flower.
 
Yep, absolutely perfect.

On the drive home
,
I ask to travel with the top dow
n.
 
Our stint in public is over,
and I want to look at the stars and feel the warmth of the heater on my toes while we cruise over the Golden Gate bridge into Marin.
 
As classic Sade pours from the M6’s Bose sound system, I become entranced by the perfection of the evening.

When we arrive home
,
David insists on opening my car door.
 
Walking toward the house
,
I shiver in the chill of the crisp air
,
after exiting the heated
vehicle
.
 
Once inside, things become warm immediately as David and I all but rip off each other’s clothing.
 
Frankly, we do try to rip some items off.
 
But
,
either we are too weak
,
or they are too well made, and we fail miserably, giggling all the while.

This is another dream, connecting with David this way, a way I know he loves and I want.
 
For a brief moment
,
I recall my discussions with Alex about reserving sex for marriage, with an intimate partner who is committed to me in sacred and meaningful ways.
 
That idea flies right out the window in the heat of passion with this man I’ve wanted for so long.
 
I make up my mind to give myself to David once my period has run its course.
 
David is not exactly the marrying kind, but at least I know he loves me.
 

Our wanton mauling blissfully winds its way to my bedroom
,
and the foreplay is every bit as magnificent as
I expected.
 
The thought of
David’s
many
past conquests arrests me for a moment, but my orange chakra peeks her head out to remind me that I am the one he comes home to at night
–
well, that is,
when
he comes home at night.

After a lavish ravaging, he says, “God Claire.
 
You have no idea how much I want you.”

“No,” I reply weakly.

And he sits upright, clearly shaken.
 
“How could I be so stupid?
 
Of course you’d say no.
 
This is exactly what we were doing when
...
when
..
”

I know instantly what he means.
 
We were at the same point of passion right when we got the call about Mom’s passing.

“No, this has nothing to do with Mom.”

He pulls his knees into his chest and is visibly upset.

“David
,
look at me.”
 
He finally does.
 
“It’s cuz I’m on my period.
 
That’s all.”
 
And I kiss his nose to punctuate the statement.

An awkward moment begins to drag out.

“But that doesn’t mean I can’t spoil you,” I offer, leaning over to kiss his belly and lightly caress his thigh.

“That’s ok, Cece.
 
Another time.
 
When we can both do everything, together.
 
Tonight let’s just
...
”
 
And he pulls me into a close spooning position.

I recall the last time I was like this in my bed.
 
It was when Nimo broke in.
 
At the time, I thought for a groggy moment that the man pressed behind me was Alex.
 
I dared not dream it would be David.
 
I fall asleep in utter contentment, in the arms of
a
man I love
–
a man who loves me too.

The day after our night at Masa’s, I awake with David’s arms around me, in the same position in which we’d fallen asleep.
 
I creep into the restroom as he slumbers, and when I return, I find him already out of bed.
 
I go into the kitchen to start the coffee
,
and can hear him arguing on the phone from the garden.

“For the last time, Giselle, I don’t want to talk about it.
 
I’m not coming back and that’s it
...
I don’t care about that
...
Well then let them
...
I
t’s not like you’re related by blood anyway.”

I head back to the bedroom, not wanting to invade his privacy, not wanting to hear more, and not wanting my imagination to have just enough fodder to conjure horrible scenarios.

A few minutes later
,
he comes back in, anxious and wound up.

“Well, that was a disaster,” he says.

“What happened?”

“I was expecting a call from Seth in the San Jose office
,
about the meeting.
 
So when my phone rang
,
I picked it up without looking.
 
Turns out it was Giselle,” he says.

“Oh.
 
Everything all right?”

“As far as I’m concerned it is.
 
I told her I didn’t want to talk and cut the conversation short.
 
Ugh, she just won’t let it go.”

I was dying to ask what it was that she wouldn’t let go, but thought better of it.

“I better get ready to leave.
 
Love you
,
Cece,” he says chipperly
,
and heads to his room to shower and dress.

Somehow, because of our beautiful night together, I’ve conveniently forgotten that he is hosting a big meeting in San Jose
–
more like a series of conferences, really
–
over the course of ten
days.
 
Funny I’d forget about it, considering I helped him plan it!
 
Weeks ago, I arranged the accommodations, the golf tournament, all the food and beverage, most of the entertainment, and even the welcome baskets and goodie bags.

The menagerie and I stand in a little row by the front door, all waiting our turn to say adieu.
 
I can’t hide the fact that I am pouting.

“Don’t be so glum, Cece.
 
I’ll be back before you know it,” and he kisses me on the forehead. “I’m really glad we got to talk last night.
 
I didn’t want to wait till I got back to tell you
...
to tell you I love you.”
 
And then he plants
a luscious kiss on my mouth – a
kiss with a capital K!

The first hour or so tha
t he’s gone is miserable.
 
I
d
o
n’t know what to do with myself, and basically just shuffle from room to room in my Bugs slippers, being wholly unproductive.
 
At one point, I realize I’m getting nowhere and decide to do some work.
 
I log onto Facebook, just to wander around, to find out what’s new and to see if there are any pretty pictures to ogle.

There is a status update from Alex.
 
I haven’t looked at his page in ages
,
and could use a good pick-me-up.
 
He always posts such positive, lovebug stuff
–
aside from the totally askew humor posts
,
which
are equally delightful
.

Going back to his page is like going back to a neighborhood where you used to live.
 
It’s so comfortable that you feel like you’re a piece of a puzzle who fits in just perfectly.
 
The first thing I see is his most recent post.
 
It’s an exquisite red rose coupled with a quote by Rumi.
 
My, but I’ve missed this man.

Scrolling down his wall, one thing, then another makes me smile.

Hee hee that was too cute
.