He's the One (12 page)

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Authors: Linda Lael Miller

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Anthologies (Multiple Authors)

BOOK: He's the One
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She bit her lip and then looked at him as if he were a species alien to her experience.
“Why did you do that?”
Chapter Three
O
f all the questions he might have anticipated at that moment, why he’d kissed her
was not one of them.
“Because I wanted to, though I can appreciate now might not have been the best time.”
“You wanted to kiss me?” She needn’t sound so surprised.
“I did say I meant to have you. Kissing is the normal prelude to what is to come.”
“Is there something wrong with you? I mean, maybe your family sent you over here because
you’re their big embarrassment. Do you howl at the moon during lunar eclipses, or
get so drunk on your birthday you dance on tabletops?”
“I assure you, I am no one’s big embarrassment.” He would have been offended by her
suppositions if she weren’t so charmingly confused by his attentions. “You really
are used to men trying to get to Helene through you.”
“Well, um, duh . . . yes. I did say so, didn’t I?”
He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman reacted
to him with such refreshing honesty.
“I suppose it’s going to take some getting used to you having me around.”
“You’re going to be around?”
“Love, you’re not exactly tracking tonight, are you?”
“I hear what your mouth is saying, but the words don’t make any sense in my world.”
“I guess it’s a good thing I’m in your world now because they make perfect sense to
me.”
“You want to date me?” she asked, as if she were trying to get it absolutely straight.
“Yes.” And more, but he’d already told her that.
“You don’t want to date Helene?”
“No.”
“Why not?” she asked, her tone just the tiniest bit aggrieved.
“Because I am not attracted to her.”
“And you are attracted to me?” She peered at him through her lashes, this time as
if she were trying to see into his head.
“Yes. Very,” he added for good measure.
“You did notice I’m the one with a figure from a bygone era? The shy one . . . not
a tinkling laugh in my repertoire?”
“I noticed everything about you and I find it quite a potent package, if you must
know.”
“You’re not over here de-stressing from some over-the-top job, are you? I mean, that
would explain your aberrant behavior.”
“There is nothing aberrant in my behavior.” Well, not much. Or at least not what she
was thinking.
He had never had a relationship of the type he wanted to have with her. Purely personal,
possibly permanent, and definitely passionate.
“Right.”
He couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh again or shake her. The woman was annoyingly
stubborn and fixated. “I’m thirty years old. I know my own mind.”
“What size was your last girlfriend?”
“What?”
“Dress size. What did she wear?”
“I don’t know the American equivalent.”
Her lips twisted. “Uh-huh. Just show me with your hands how big around her waist was.”
He did.
Tabby nodded, her expression gleaming with triumph. “Exactly. Probably a size six.”
“What the hell does that have to do with us?”
“You normally date women like my sister. Men like you do.”
“According to you, all men prefer women like your sister.”
She bit her lip. “They do.”
“I don’t, and do not start yammering about dress sizes again. You are perfect as you
are.” In fact, she was luscious. “I don’t want you to be any different.”
“This is really weird for me.”
“Let’s spend the rest of the evening together and see if we can’t get you used to
it.”
“All right.” She said it grudgingly, but he could have sworn her green eyes reflected
the same yearning that made it so impossible for him to leave her alone.
The next morning, Tabby awoke to the strident ring of the telephone. She fumbled for
the receiver from underneath the light comforter on her bed.
“Hello?”
“Did I wake you, dear?”
“Hi, Mom. Yes, you woke me.”
“Sorry, you’re usually up early on Sunday, but I couldn’t help noticing you missed
church.”
“I slept through my alarm.”
“Up late?”
“You know I was.”
“Later than I think?”
Tabby sat up and fluffed the pillows behind her as a backrest. “I did not bring him
home with me!”
Not that she would have turned him down—she didn’t think—but he hadn’t asked, which
made her protestation sort of overdone.
“I see. So, is he nobility, former spy, what?”
“What do you
see
?”
“Nothing in particular. It’s a phrase we mothers use. I’m sure you’ll find yourself
saying it someday, too. It means we’re thinking over what our child just told us.
Now answer my question.”
“The answer is: I don’t know. We didn’t talk about his past.” He’d managed to neatly
sidestep any conversational byways in that direction.
“You spent the whole evening so wrapped up in each other’s company, you barely noticed
when everyone else had left and you didn’t talk about his past? What
did
you talk about?”
“Everything. It was wonderful, Mom.”
It had been like talking to a really good friend, one she’d known forever . . . which
had been as worrisome as his strange fixation on her instead of Helene. She could
really fall for this guy. That would leave her open to major pain when he figured
out that James Bond was supposed to date Octopussy, not Anne of Green Gables.
“Everything including why he’s in Port Diamond?” her mother probed.
“He inherited his house from an uncle on his mother’s side. She was American.”
“Is she dead?”
“No, but she’s got her British citizenship now.”
Silence. Then, “So is he sticking around or what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does he have a job?” her mother asked suspiciously.
Tabby grinned. Overprotective, but lovable. “I suppose. He certainly seems to have
money, but the truth is we spent a lot of time talking about me. It was weird.”
Her mom laughed. “If you dated more, that kind of thing wouldn’t be so strange. He’s
been pumping your dad and sister about you for a couple of weeks now.”
Tabby smoothed the sheet and blanket over her legs. “Why do you suppose he waited
to approach me?”
“Helene said you avoided them whenever he was with her. Maybe he thought you weren’t
interested.”
“I didn’t want to intrude.”
“I don’t think he would have seen it as an intrusion.”
“No, I guess not.” But how was she supposed to know? This whole thing of being the
sole recipient of a man’s interest was new to her, and she couldn’t help feeling it
wasn’t fated to last very long.
“My crab salad went over very well last night. I knew it would.”
It was all Tabby could do not to blurt out the truth. “It’s a wonderful recipe.”
“Yes.”
They chatted for a few more minutes and then her mother rang off.
Tabby was in the shower when her doorbell rang. She grabbed a towel, did a quick dry-off,
and then wrapped it around herself sarong-style to answer the door.
Expecting her sister or someone equally innocuous—like
anyone else
—she reared back in shock when she saw Calder standing on the other side.
“Good morning, love.” His dark eyes made a meal of her, and the oversized bath sheet
felt like the most revealing piece of lingerie she owned.
“I wasn’t expecting you this morning.” He’d said he would call, not come calling.
His dark brows rose. “Then who were you expecting?”
“No one in particular.”
“But definitely not me?”
“Honestly? No.”
He frowned. “Do you frequently answer the door wearing nothing more than a towel when
you don’t know who is on the other side?”
“Of course not. How often do you think I’m in the shower when someone stops by?”
“I can only hope the occurrence is rare.” He sounded annoyed. He certainly looked
it.
Which was interesting, if confusing.
“Getting a visitor at my door is pretty rare. People usually stop by the store to
see me.”
“If you didn’t think it was someone you knew, then you thought you were opening the
door to a perfect stranger?” he asked as if carefully putting a puzzle together and
not liking the way it was turning out.
“Nobody’s perfect,” she quipped, but his stiff expression said he didn’t appreciate
the joke. She sighed. “I don’t know why it matters so much, but I thought it might
be a book delivery made to my home address by accident. It’s happened before, though
never on Sunday. It could have been someone looking for directions, too.”
Suddenly, he was a stranger. No longer the charismatic man of the night before, this
guy emanated menace and made James Bond seem like a pussycat.
“If I understand you correctly, you are telling me you opened your door dressed like
that”—he pointed to her towel-clad self with a precise movement—“believing a stranger
was on the other side?” His tone could have frozen underground lava.
“That bothers you?” Okay, so it was hard to interpret his reaction any other way,
but the concept was so foreign to her, she felt like she needed a translation guide
to deal with it.
“You have to ask?” He looked pointedly at the swell of her breasts revealed above
the towel. “Do you mind stepping back inside to continue this discussion?”
“Uh . . . no problem.” She moved back a couple of paces.
He followed, shutting the door behind him, and then reached for her. “In answer to
your rather obtuse question, yes, I am more than mildly irritated that you would answer
your door wearing nothing but a towel if you were expecting someone besides me . .
. or maybe your mother.”
“That sounds awfully territorial.” And the fingers wrapped around her upper arms certainly
felt like it.
“It is.”
“Oh.” She licked her lips nervously, and then bit them when his expression turned
from disapproving to heated. “Um, I don’t think we have that kind of relationship
yet.”
“I beg to differ. I made my intentions clear last night, Tabby, and I won’t share.”
His voice was like razed steel. His hands moved to cup her face, his touch gentle
even if his tone was not. “I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this.”
“No one else wants to.”
He shook his head. “You cannot be that naive. You are a beautiful, desirable woman
and even if you were a wrinkle-ridden hag, it wouldn’t be safe to answer your door
practically naked.”
“But Port Diamond—”
“Is on a major highway, and small towns have crazy, nasty people, too, love.” He sounded
so serious, so concerned.
And she realized he was probably right. It was just that living her whole life in
a small town, she sometimes forgot the world was bigger than her own backyard. “I
won’t do it again,” she promised softly, still not sure if this whole territorial
attitude of his was good or not.
“Thank you.” And then he kissed her—as if he couldn’t wait one more second to connect
with her lips.
She went under immediately, just as she had the night before, but when she tried to
get close, he pulled back.
“Don’t, love. I came by to see if you wanted to spend the day with me, not to seduce
you in your living room.” He looked down at her precariously wrapped towel, his gaze
glittering with unmistakable desire. “Though it’s a bloody tempting prospect.”
“I’m glad.”
He closed his eyes, as if the sight of her was too much for his self-control. “If
you don’t get some clothes on immediately, all of my good intentions are going to
disappear.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to be governed by good intentions.” The kiss they’d shared
last night had been incredible. She wanted more.
At some point, he was going to realize she was not his type and move on. Was it wrong
to want to experience all the passion he had to offer before that happened?
She’d been practical and cautious her whole life, and that had gotten her exactly
nowhere in the relationship department. One thing she knew, this man wanted her, not
some other woman and not her sister.
That meant their connection had more going for it than any of the others she’d had
in her life.
His jaw tightened, as if he was trying to gather inner strength. When he opened his
eyes, they were hard with resolve. “We’re going to the San Diego Museum of Art.”
“This is the last week of their special El Greco exhibit. I’ve been wanting to see
it.”
“I know.”
Whoosh
—the air rushed from her lungs as shock reverberated through her.
It was unbelievable that a man so incredible would go to such lengths to please her.
Every bit as overwhelming was the reality that she wanted to stay home and continue
their kiss more than she wanted to go to the exhibition. She’d never been this physically
stunned by a man’s nearness.

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