Coffee in Common (2 page)

"That's the hallmark of a true friendship," she said, walking through the door Paul held open for her.

"I guess so," he agreed as they approached the end of the short line. "He was teaching high school English at the time but hated the politics and bullshit. So when his predecessor announced she'd be resigning when her baby was born, I got him to apply for the job." He laughed again. "I think a lot of women in the company rue the day he started."

"Why? He seems like such a nice guy."

"He is. But you've only known him since he started going out with Lisa. You wouldn't know it to look at him, but he's always been a wicked player. In high school, he developed this kind of…mystique, I guess, as a party animal and chick magnet. Girls seemed to find his personality and charm and sense of humor irresistible despite his looks. I probably shouldn't admit this, but the best part of being friends with him was the leftovers."

"Leftovers?"

Paul nodded, looking sheepish. "The friends of the girls he went out with, the ones he broke up with after a few weeks, you know what I mean?"

"You called them leftovers?" Offense blazed in her eyes, but he was saved from having to answer when Barista Manny asked what he could get for them.

Four minutes later, as the door to Coffey's closed behind them, Priya punched his arm hard enough that he almost dropped the cardboard cup holder. "Leftovers! What is it with men and their need to objectify and demean?"

She stomped off, leaving him rubbing his arm as he hurried to catch up.

"Priya, I'm sorry. That's what we used to say in high school. We were stupid kids with too many hormones. Come on, don't be angry."

An hour later, Paul was still getting the silent treatment, much to the amusement of Rob and Tom.

Priya glanced at him.

I suppose I should let him off the hook. After all, it was a long time ago, and he
is
such a gentleman now. And I guess I was really taking out on him all the crap from other guys.

Tom clearing his throat drew her eyes across the office to the desk that faced hers. She took in his familiar round freckled face, bushy orange-red hair, and trim but stocky five-foot eleven-inch build.

He could change his name to Mahatma Chang or anything else and you would still know he was of Irish descent. Rob, on the other hand, has that everyman look. He really could come from manywheres.

Her eyes returned to Paul as she let her thoughts drift back to her first day at DPP.

*  *  *

Priya was very nervous. She had arrived early but stayed out of the way until all three guys were safely at their desks. Then she walked in, closed the door, placed her bag on her desk, lifted her arms over her head in a swimsuit pose, and said, smiling, "Good morning, guys. Let's see a show of hands. Who wants to see me naked?"

The men were stunned into silence. They stared, unblinking, unmoving, like clichéd deer transfixed by the bright headlights of an oncoming car. She stared back for a few seconds then started laughing as she pointed to each in turn and said, "Liar, liar, and liar."

Her laughter relaxed them a bit and Rob's hand inched up slowly until it was above his head.

"Ah," she said, "an honest man." Slowly, she shook her head from side-to-side, turned to face him and said, "Rob, it will never happen. Ever." Her hands moved to indicate her attractive, but conservative business suit. "This is as close as you will ever get to seeing heaven."

Shoot. That sounded awfully conceited.

"Look guys, I had to leave two really good jobs in the past year because the men I worked with either wouldn't take me seriously or couldn't keep their eyes, and other parts, to themselves. I'm good at what I do, and this seems like a really nice, friendly place, but I came here to work, and that's all I came here to do. If that's going to be a problem, please tell me now before I get comfortable in the job."

Her new coworkers were grinning broadly. Tom stood and gave her a slight bow of appreciation. "Well done, ma'am. Well done."

*  *  *

In the three months since then, she'd never once caught any of them looking at her in anything but a friendly and professional way. Even when the office banter turned suggestive, or even sexual, she was just one of the team.

She sighed, decided it was time to forgive Paul, and tossed a paperclip at him to get his attention. "So what happened with the girl this morning? Did you get lucky?"

Paul grinned, happy things were back to normal, then glared at Rob. "I should have figured you'd start blabbing the minute you got here." He turned his attention back to Tom and Priya. "To answer your question…oh yeah…I was on my game."

"Sure you were," Rob jeered, remembering his performance in the coffee shop. "Did you get her number?"

"Number, ha! Who needs a number?"

"He struck out," Priya said. "He got nothing and now he'll be getting nothing. Poor Paul."

Tom snorted his agreement, holding up his right hand with thumb and forefinger forming an ‘L'.

"Lady, gentlemen, please. You forget to whom you are speaking. I was so smooth, so charming,
so
damned irresistible that I didn't even ask for her number.

"See, I told you…" Priya began.

"But," Paul continued, interrupting her. "I did make a date for lunch today."

11:30 AM

11:30! How could it only be 11:30?

Paul hadn't been this anxious for lunchtime to arrive since high school, when he'd skip the entrée in the cafeteria and head right outside to meet Sue Ellen for a little lip-locking dessert.

He studied Rob, sitting at this desk across the room, engrossed in whatever he was editing.

I wonder if he remembers the night we went to the Sheepfold with Suzy and…what was her name…the redhead with the big boobs…and he got out of the car in his boxers to take a whiz and…what the
hell
is her name…convinced Suzy to drive off toward the entrance as if we were going to leave him there. Man, I can still hear us all laughing, still see him running across the parking lot by moonlight, cursing and pleading.

As he forced it from his face, he was glad none of his co-workers had caught his evil grin.

Hmmm…did I ever thank him for introducing me to Suzy?

His gaze drifted right to Priya.

She really looks hot today…I wonder if she has a boyfriend. She must. Probably some muscle-bound face with a big dick. Girls like her can get anyone they want. But she never talks about dating anyone…and she doesn't seem like the superficial type…unless she's a great actress…but that stunt she pulled the first day…no way…she's okay. Just private, I guess. I wonder if Jillian will really show up…damn, what the hell was wrong with me this morning…must have been those eyes…great eyes…maybe she…

Tom's voice rang out. "Hey, DiLorenzo, you working or dreaming over there?"

12:15 PM

Jillian hurried toward the coffee shop. A curious anxiety nibbled at the back of her mind. She wanted to be there before he arrived but wasn't sure why. The wind blew her hair around and though she tried to keep it in place, she knew she'd need to fix it once inside.

The lunchtime crowd, like the wind, all seemed to be coming toward her, making it difficult to move quickly. As she drew closer to the shop, she realized she was actually nervous about meeting this guy.

Paul DiLorenzo. Nice name. And he is kind of cute. But he was so flustered this morning. Do I really want to sit through a whole lunch with some spaz? What would Liz say to do? Be cool. Just be cool and detached and make him work to impress me. But lord, that look on his face this morning. If it hadn't been for that look… Come on, girl, get a grip. You've shot down plenty of come-ons before. But that look…not just disappointment… almost…devastation. How can you not at least give a guy a chance when he's devastated at the thought of not seeing you again. And I guess it
was
kind of sweet the way he was stumbling over himself to impress me. I never did
that
to a guy before.

She reached the shop, pulled open the door and stepped inside. It felt good to get out of the wind.

Mmmm…it smells wonderful in here. Coffee mixed with the pastry…I sure wish someone would figure out how to capture it in a bottle, so I can spray it around the apartment.

She was standing a few feet inside the door and when it opened again, the cold air roused her from her reverie. With a contented sigh, she turned to find a table and saw Paul sitting at the one in the corner, his back to the front window. He was reading from a stack of papers and there were three or four cups on the table.

Damn.

She quickly finger-combed her hair.

How long has he been here? And what's with all the coffee? Are other people coming? Is this some kind of game after all? Maybe I should just get out of here before he sees me.

She hesitated, still trying to smooth out her hair but, without a mirror, not having much success.

What the hell…he takes me as I am or not at all.

She removed her scarf and started toward the table. Holding the scarf in her left hand, she used her right to unbutton her coat. When she was closer, she saw she was correct about the coffees. There were three sitting unopened in the center of the table and one, obviously his and already half empty, near the edge.

"Hi," she said with a neutral smile as she reached the table.

"Hi," he replied without thinking. Then he looked up and jumped out of his seat.

"Oh, hi!" he repeated, this time with genuine enthusiasm. "You're early."

"Not as early as you, I see."

Her eyes flicked to the table, then back to Paul. "Have you been working?" She gestured reflexively and her scarf caught his cup, spilling the coffee all over the papers.

When they heard the cup go over, they looked down at the mess and simultaneously groaned, "Oh crap!"

Their heads snapped back up at the matching exclamations as all through the shop, heads turned to see what was happening.

Jillian was mortified. "I am
so
sorry. I…"

"That's okay," he said, interrupting, as he grabbed the few napkins on the table and started blotting at the drenched manuscript. "Just…can you get me some more napkins?"

He continued to blot at the spilled coffee but it was futile now. The napkins were saturated. Jillian hurried off, trying to ignore the stares from other customers, and returned with a napkin dispenser. She pulled out three small napkins which emptied the dispenser. Quickly, she turned it around to find the other side empty as well.

"I don't believe this," she moaned, silently cursing her decision to stay.

She hurried off again to return with two handfuls of napkins. Dropping them all over the spill, she began sopping up the coffee, so embarrassed that she couldn't look at him.

"I really am
so
sorry. I can't believe I did that. I've probably ruined your work and now…now…"

She wadded up a pile of saturated napkins, still not able to meet his eyes.

"…I…I'm sorry. I should go. Really, I'm sorry."

She turned to leave.

"Wait! Where are you going? You just got here."

Paul finished mopping up the coffee and piled the wet napkins on the edge of table against the wall.

"Please, calm down. Didn't your mom ever tell you not to cry over spilled coffee. Or was that milk. No matter. Come on, sit down. It's okay."

He could see how embarrassed she was. Gently he said, "Really, Jillian. No harm done."

He moved to the other side of the table and pulled out the chair for her.

Jillian forced herself to face him and saw he was grinning.

He rattled the chair a bit, his eyes pleading with her to stay. "Please?"

She forced a weak smile and took the offered seat. As he moved back to his chair, she shrugged off her jacket and nervously ran her fingers through her hair again, suddenly hoping it didn't look too horrible. They stared at each other for a few moments, neither one really sure what to say. Then Paul started to chuckle. He tried his best to contain it but couldn't and a full-fledged laugh burst through.

His laughter was infectious. Jillian noticed her mood growing lighter as the corners of her mouth curled into a smile.

He is so strange!

"What's so funny?"

Paul took a few seconds to get the laughter under control. As he did, she again took in his thick, brown hair with its reddish highlights, his brown eyes flecked with gold, his straight nose, and his full, laughing lips. She remembered from this morning that he carried himself with a casual straightness. She noticed he sat that way, too. His shoulders were not exceptionally broad, nor his arms particularly muscular, yet he seemed to exude a quiet physical prowess.

"Well, think about it. Our first meeting this morning was somewhat of a disaster, with me acting unbelievably foolish. And now our second meeting starts with another, ah…small blip. But this time it's you who…"

He started laughing again, quietly this time, enjoying the irony of the situation. Jillian started to say something but he stopped her.

"Wait, please. Before you say anything else, before anything else happens…what is your last name?"

Somehow, that simple question relaxed her and Jillian grinned at his urgency.

"Marshall. Jillian Marshall."

Paul started to extend his hand over the table to shake hands but retreated a bit and hooked it around the coffee cups.

Jillian feigned indignation and extended her hand straight over the them. As their hands approached, a small jolt of static electricity made them both jump. Startled, each wondered if the spark was an omen and, if so, what sort. Then, as they shook hands, a spark of a different sort passed between them.

"Paul DiLorenzo," he said. "I am
really
happy to meet you Ms. Jillian Marshall."