Intimate (14 page)

Marissa came
into them. Settled herself against him. Closed her eyes and burrowed into his
body trustingly.

They lay
together without speaking, and he eventually lost track of the time. He was
feeling so much of so many different emotions that he was basically helpless
against them.

Marissa’s body
was warm, soft, and pliant. She was fully clothed in baggy sweats. Her hair was
messy, and her face scrubbed and not softened by makeup. But, despite this, he
had to fight against being aroused.

He
did
fight it. This wasn’t the time, and she didn’t need to be confronted with that
tonight.

She needed to
know that just because things were changing, not everything would change. So Caleb
held her close and wordlessly tried to assure her that he wasn't trying to take
anything away from her.

Her weight
against him was comfort, was hope, was a strength of feeling he’d never
experienced. But it was also the burden of responsibility, and it was something
he couldn’t ignore.

Marissa was
trusting him in this. Trusting him with all her fear, insecurity, and need.
Which meant he couldn’t let her down. Which meant this would be so much harder,
so much deeper than anything he’d ever done before.

So he admitted
to himself—even though he’d never say it out loud—that he was just as terrified
of this thing as Marissa was.

Maybe she’d
never done sexual intimacy, but he’d never done emotional intimacy.

And he knew in
his gut the emotional was harder.

And later,
after she dozed off in his arms, he had to admit one more thing.

Marissa had
asked him a question, so abruptly and unexpectedly, when they first came into
her apartment earlier. And he’d answered it instinctively, unthinkingly,
foolishly.

But he had to
admit it now.

His first
answer had been a lie.

Marissa released a long,
agonized groan and threw herself onto her bed.

She had landed
on a pile of clothes, so she made herself roll off them before she got them
wrinkled.

A good portion
of her wardrobe was strewn around the room. She hadn’t done this in a couple of
years—try on dozens of outfits in a desperate attempt to settle on the right
one.

With no
success.

Tonight was Marissa’s
first date with Caleb, and she had absolutely no idea what to wear.

It shouldn’t be
this hard. She’d been out with him thousands of times, and she’d never had a
problem picking out an appropriate outfit before. He knew her, knew what she
looked like, and knew all the clothes in her closet.

It wasn’t like
she was going to surprise him by her beauty and style.

All she had to
do was find something vaguely suitable to wear. It wasn’t that hard. She had plenty
of clothes. Just pick something. He was going to be here in twenty minutes.

She stared at
the piles of clothes cluttering her bedroom, hoping the perfect outfit would
jump out at her.

When
inspiration failed to strike, she reached over to pick up the phone.

Caleb answered
on the second ring. “Hey.”

“Where are we
going tonight anyway?” she asked, without greeting or preamble.

There was a
slight pause as he adjusted to her blunt question. “Dinner. I told you before.”

“But where are
we going? I need to know.”

“Why has the
need to know suddenly become so urgent?” Caleb’s voice sounded as if he were
smiling.

Marissa smiled
a little bit too—at the sound of it.

“I don’t know
what to wear,” she admitted. “At least tell me what
you’re
wearing.”

“I can’t
believe you called me up just to ask me what I’m wearing. I was just on my way
out the door.”

“This is a very
serious situation. An absolute wardrobe dilemma. Are you dressed up?”

“No,” he
replied, apparently taking pity on her desperation. “I’m not wearing a suit or
anything.”

Well, that
helped. She could eliminate about a third of her choices. “You aren’t wearing jeans,
are you?”

“Give me a
little credit. I’m wearing a shirt and pants.” He said the words as if they
would mean something to her.

They did mean
something to her. Despite his vagueness, she could now picture exactly what he
was wearing. “Okay. Thanks. I guess I can find something appropriate.”

There was a
long pause before he responded. “Should I be gratified that you’re so stressed
over your outfit?”

She was very
much afraid that he
should
be gratified.

All she said
was, “Don’t get too smug about it. It’s just because I haven’t had a real date
in five years. A little wardrobe trauma is to be expected.”

He laughed
again. “I’m leaving now, so I’ll be there shortly.”

“I’ll try to be
dressed when you arrive.”

After she disconnected,
she heaved herself to her feet and rummaged through her clothes, finally
settling on a trendy patterned skirt in blues and grays.

She pulled it
on and decided it flattered her butt, so she didn’t take it off. Five minutes
later, she slipped on a blue top that showed a lot of shoulder and just a hint
of cleavage. The outfit looked stylish but not too dressy.

She stared at
herself in the mirror for a minute. Wondered what Caleb would think when he saw
her. Wondered if he would notice the cleavage.

Although she
knew now that he was apparently attracted to her, she still had a hard time
believing that he was actually interested in her body.

Peering at
herself, she turned around slowly in front of the mirror. It was a good
body—very short, but fit and shapely. But was it really something Caleb wanted?

Caleb
,
who could have any woman he wanted.

She shrugged
and went to find a pair of earrings.

She was just
touching up her lip gloss when she heard the knock at the door.

Her stomach
tightened painfully.

They’d both
been busy for the last few days, so they hadn’t seen each other since Monday
night—when everything had been brought out in the open.

So, as she went
to open the door for him, she couldn’t decide which feeling was stronger.
Delight at seeing Caleb again. Or terror at seeing Caleb again.

Putting a hand
to her nervous belly, she decided it was basically a tie.

She swung open
the door for him. “What happened to using your key to just barge…”

Her voice
trailed off when she saw him.

He stood in the
doorway with a half-smile on his face and one hand in his pocket. He was
dressed all in black—black dress shirt, black trousers, black shoes. His
eyebrows elevated slightly when he saw her dumbfounded expression.

But how could
she not look dumbfounded? Why hadn’t she realized before just how gorgeous he
was? Why was it like she was seeing him for the first time—this irresistibly scrumptious
man?

She swallowed
again and tried to remember what she’d been saying.

When she didn’t
complete her question, Caleb answered it anyway. “I don’t know. I figured since
this is supposed to be a date, I’d actually wait for you to answer the door.”
He eyed her from top to bottom with an expression that made her quite quivery.
“You look gorgeous, by the way.”

“Thank you.” She
blushed under his warm regard. She just wasn’t used to Caleb looking at her
that way, as if he really thought she
was
gorgeous. “Come in. I’m just
about ready.”

As she walked
back to her bedroom to grab her purse, she felt unusually self-conscious.

She had the
strangest feeling that Caleb was checking out her butt.

When she came
back from her room, they stared at each some more, and Marissa felt
unexpectedly shy.

Which was
ridiculous.

This was Caleb.
Her best friend. She’d gone out with him hundreds of times before. Yes, things
had changed, but there was no reason for her to feel tongue-tied and uncertain.
No reason to want to melt into the floor.

He quirked his
lips. “I promise I’m not going to ravish you on the way to dinner. You don’t
have to look so terrified.”

And that snide
remark made her feel a lot better.

“I’m not
terrified, but this is very weird. We’re going out on a date for the first time
in all the years we've been friends, so I feel a little awkward.”

“I know. I feel
a little strange too. But I think this will be good if we can just get over it.”

“But let’s try
to keep it kind of low-key to begin with. I’m already freaked out enough.
Please tell me you didn’t go all out and plan some sappy, sentimental evening
full of roses and violin music.”

“You know me
better than that,” Caleb replied, chuckling, as they took the elevator to the ground
floor. “My feelings for you have changed, but I haven’t completely lost
perspective. I promise there will be nothing dramatic, cheesy, or trite.”

“Thank God.”

“Just dinner.”
He looked cool and contained, which only made him more attractive and Marissa
more jittery. “I promise. I know you pretty well by now, you know.”

“I know you
do.”

She held his
arm, as she often did, as they walked toward his car. But for some reason, her
grip on his sleeve tonight felt more possessive than usual. Like she was making
some sort of claim to everyone else on the street—he’s mine, keep your hands
off him.

The restaurant was
a quirky little place next to the river, refurbished from an old factory built
a century ago. Their table was waiting for them, clearly the best spot in the
room, in a secluded nook right across from the roaring fireplace.

“Cute,” Marissa
said, as she took her seat and glanced around. “I can’t believe I’ve never been
here before. I love the antiques.”

Caleb was
trying to look cool and nonchalant, but she could tell he was pleased by her
compliment. She wondered how much thought he’d put into picking out the
restaurant.

When their
server came, Marissa secretly hoped that Caleb wouldn’t order champagne. It
seemed too predictable and romantic, and it would cast a certain mood on the
evening that she didn't really want. To her relief, he ordered a very expensive
red wine.

They talked
about mutual acquaintances and other harmless topics until their salads
arrived. Marissa was starting to have a good time, growing more comfortable by
the minute.

Although the
room itself wasn’t comfortable at all—the night wasn’t very cool, so the fire
was getting really hot.

Marissa wished
she'd worn a shirt with shorter sleeves.

The lights in
the restaurant were dim, and there were candles on the table. So Caleb’s skin
almost glowed in the flickering light, glint and shadow playing across his face
and dark hair. The candles were glittering in his eyes too, so everything about
him became more and more effulgent as the sun slowly set outside the windows.

Part of his
luminosity was probably because his skin was slightly damp. He must be just as
hot from the fire as she was.

She was just
telling him about a book she’d been reading when a high-pitched scream on the
other side of the room distracted her.

They both
turned in the direction of the shout, and they saw two little boys—obviously
twins and maybe three years old, chasing each other around a table on the far
side of the restaurant.

Marissa laughed
as she watched them, but then winced as one of them ran smack into the back of
a chair at another table.

The boy let out
an indignant exclamation, and the elderly lady who sat in the chair squealed in
surprised outrage.

Caleb and Marissa
shared a covert smile of shameless amusement.

“It does seem
kind of late to have such little kids out at restaurants,” Caleb remarked, as
he watched the boys run riotously in circles. “Surely it's past their bedtime.”

Marissa was
giving him a fond smile when he turned and caught her expression.

“What?” he
asked self-consciously, looking at her in suspicion, as if she might have been
laughing at him.

“Nothing. It’s
just funny to hear you talk about bedtimes.”

He looked a
little offended. “Why shouldn’t I talk about bedtimes?”

“No reason. I’ve
always known you secretly liked kids.”

This seemed to
offend him even more than her laughing at him. “I do not. Most of the time,
they’re annoying and poorly behaved and nothing but a nuisance.”

“Uh huh,” Marissa
agreed, starting to feel waves of heat coming off the fire.

What was wrong
with the people who ran this restaurant? It was a warm spring evening. There
was no reason for such a hot fire in an already stuffy, crowded room.

Surreptitiously,
she wiped her damp forehead with her napkin. Hoped she wouldn’t sweat so much it
would show through her clothes.

To distract
herself from her physical discomfort, she picked at her salad and asked Caleb
something she’d been wondering about all week. “So,” she began, trying to keep
her voice natural. “When did you decide you wanted something other than
friendship with me?”

He blinked,
looking a little surprised by the sudden shift in conversation, but he answered
immediately. “It was at that fundraiser when you fell into the pool.”

“You’re kidding
me. That night was horrible. What about it could possibly have changed your
feelings?”

He made a
strange face. “Well, that was the night I realized I was really attracted to
you.”

“Seriously? When
I was gorgeous in my new dress? Or when I was a wet mess after falling in the
pool?”

Caleb’s lips
twitched. “I’m afraid it was the wet mess that did it.”

“You’re
kidding. You decided after all these years that I wasn’t as unattractive as
you’d always thought when I was drenched and cursing at you?”

“Yeah. The
cursing was a particularly strong turn-on. But I never found you unattractive
even before.”

“You did too.”

“I’ve always
known you were beautiful, but it’s only recently that I realized it went
farther than that.”

“I’m sorry, Caleb,
but I just don’t buy it.”

“Do you think
I’m making this up? I’m not just feeling harmless, romantic urges toward you.
I’ve been suffering from almost debilitating lust for you for weeks.”

He said it matter-of-factly,
as if it were a normal part of conversation. Marissa blushed hotly, although
she was already so flushed from the heat of the fire that she doubted Caleb
would be able to tell the difference.

“I don’t mean I
don’t believe how you feel
now
,” she answered, managing to sound
surprisingly calm. “I mean I don’t believe you ever thought I was beautiful
before.”

“Well, why the
hell not?”

“Because you
never acted on it.”

“Yeah. I don’t
know how to explain it. I think it was partly habit and partly denial. I just
got into the pattern of not thinking about you sexually, so I convinced myself
that I never could. But once that pattern was broken…” He trailed off and his
eyes took on a hot look for the first time all night. He finished, “It was
really
broken.”

She blushed
again, more deeply this time. “I guess it sort of worked the same for me too.”

He reached over
to lift her chin so she would meet his eyes. “So your pattern of thinking about
me has been broken too?”

He looked
almost hopeful, which made her feel terrified and fluttery both.

“Yeah. Maybe
not in exactly the same way. I’m not at the debilitating lust stage. But I
can’t seem to think of anything but you.”

He was trying—failing—to
repress a pleased grin. “I’ll take that. The debilitating lust can come later.”