Get back over there and seal the deal before she leaves!
No. Something told him not to push too hard with this woman. He’d made the first move. The next one would have to be hers.
But he never dreamed she’d make it so quickly.
He hadn’t yet seated himself when the curvy brunette circled to his side of the shelf, still holding the book of sonnets. “I was wondering…do you often read this book?”
He wasn’t sure why she asked the question, but if she was looking for a man who read poetry, then that was who he would be. “Yes.”
“Then…” She offered a folded piece of paper. “Could this be yours?”
Puzzled, he took the paper, unfolded it, and gave it a quick scan. Good God.
It had to be the most melodramatic, clichéd claptrap he’d ever set eyes on. And having graded far too many freshman essays, Bryan knew from bad writing.
You never let me love you the way I wanted…
Seriously?
Whoever wrote this drivel had a lot to learn about restraint. This author—and he used the term loosely—had splattered his emotions all over the page like a toddler in a highchair might splatter his food on the floor. It was just as self-indulgent. And every bit as messy.
And Gloria thought
he
wrote it?
What an insult. He snapped his gaze to hers, ready to deny it and tell her to toss the letter in the trash where it belonged.
One look at her face stopped him short. Her beautiful brown eyes glowed with hopefulness. Her full, red-glossed lips were moist, slightly parted. All other thoughts flew from his head as he pictured kissing that soft, tempting mouth. Impulsively he leaned toward her, catching a whiff of her flowery scent.
Getting a woman into bed had always been his end game. He pursued a woman, wooed her, slept with her. It was exciting. Once the chase was done, he soon lost interest. He knew that made him a bastard.
He wasn’t a nice man, but he had standards. He never seduced any of his students—any students, period. He firmly followed the adage “Don’t shit where you eat.” And he was always honest with women. He could pride himself on that. He never said “I love you” just to get a woman on her back, never made false promises.
But this once, he was going to lie. He wanted to get to know Gloria, to get closer to her, to kiss her. She wanted him to be the letter writer.
Why couldn’t they both get what they wanted?
“I…” He couldn’t quite choke out the lie. It wasn’t honesty that had it stuck in his throat but pride. How could he admit to writing garbage like this?
“It’s all right.” When she stepped closer to him, her floral scent invaded his senses and he grew almost dizzy. “Please don’t be embarrassed. It’s a beautiful letter.”
He blinked, coming out of his daze. She really thought so? But he didn’t care about Gloria’s taste in literature. Too many other things about her fascinated him.
When she touched the note in his hand, her fingers grazed his. Her perfectly oval, pink polished nails looked demure and innocent, in contrast to her fiery beauty. Bryan had to stop himself from grasping those fingers, caressing them.
“I’m the one who should be embarrassed.” Her voice had fallen to a whisper, and a rosy color bloomed in her cheeks. “I read it. I shouldn’t have. It was private.” She lifted her gaze. “I’m sorry.”
He barely heard her apology. Her eyes, the color of cognac, made him tipsy.
“Don’t apologize.” He followed his instincts and took her hand. The note was crushed in their grasp.
“I know how it feels to lose someone you love. How devastating it is.” Her expression was soft with compassion.
For the first time, a twinge of guilt needled him. He
didn’t
know how it felt to lose a loved one. He didn’t even know how it felt to be in love.
He’d never been in love.
Funny how once you told the first lie, the second one was a little easier. Still, he had to look away to tell it. “It’s been difficult.”
“Yes, of course.” She squeezed his hand in sympathy. “Were you going to send it?”
He slipped the note into his jacket pocket. “Excuse me?”
“I wasn’t sure if you were just putting your thoughts on paper or if you really meant to send the letter to your girlfriend.” Her lashes fell. “Or boyfriend. I shouldn’t assume.”
“Girlfriend,” he said quickly. “It’s a woman. I mean, she’s a woman.” He normally wouldn’t bother explaining his sexual orientation, but he wanted
this
woman to know he wasn’t gay.
Gloria smiled. “My daughter’s gay. She’s taught me a lot about not making assumptions.”
“Ah. You’re a very understanding woman.”
“Well, I don’t know. I try to be.”
“A very sympathetic woman.” And suddenly he saw his way in. A way to press his advantage. Through Gloria’s sympathy and compassion. “It’s rare to find someone with that gift.”
She frowned in puzzlement. “Oh, I’m not—”
“I admire you women. You can confide in each other, share your feelings. It’s harder for us men. We can talk about sports or politics or sex. But when our hearts get broken, it’s different.” He gave her a sad, resigned smile.
Work it, buddy, work it.
“There’s no one to share with. We’re alone.”
“You mustn’t feel that way.” She took his hand again. “Surely there’s someone you can talk to.”
“Why do you think I had to spill my—” he almost said
spill my guts
“—uh, my emotions on a blank sheet of paper?” Again, he gave the sad smile, the helpless shake of his head.
She squeezed his fingers. “Would you like to talk to
me
?”
Bingo! Hold on, don’t look too eager.
He’d baited the hook, now he must reel her in slowly. “You must have better things to do than listen to my story.”
“No, honestly. I don’t go into work until this afternoon. I have plenty of time.” Her face was so open and honest, again he felt a twinge of guilt.
You’re an S.O.B., Dunn.
But if that’s what it took to get this woman alone, so be it.
As though worried he might refuse her offer, she quickly added, “There’s a coffee shop just a block from here.” She glanced at the delicate silver watch on her wrist. “This time of day it shouldn’t be too busy. We can talk there.”
Check and mate. “I’d like that. Thank you.”
Chapter Two
Bryan and Gloria sat at a corner table with their cappuccinos. She was right, there were very few others in
The Coffee Klatch
at this hour, and they were far enough away from other customers that privacy was no concern.
Gloria smiled warmly, inviting his confidence. “What’s her name?”
What was she talking about? “Excuse me?”
“The woman you were writing to. What’s her name?”
Oh, right.
Think fast, Dunn
. “Oh. Courtney.”
Now where’d that come from?
“You obviously still care for her deeply.”
“I—” He took a swallow of coffee to give himself time to think of a reply. “What makes you say that?”
Her smooth forehead crinkled in confusion. “Well, your letter, of course. The way you poured out your heart.”
“Oh.” Heat crawled up his neck as he remembered the mush in the note.
Poured out his heart.
Ugh. Just the thought made him want to gag.
“Please don’t be embarrassed.”
He cleared his throat, realizing the hole he’d dug with this deception. Each subsequent lie would only dig him deeper. “It’s painful to talk about.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry, but sharing these feelings can make them easier to cope with. I thought that’s why you wanted to come here. To talk…?” Suspicion clouded her features as she leaned back in her chair, withdrawing physically as well as emotionally.
Damn it, he was losing her. He needed to work fast to get her back. “It’s hard. You feel like a fool, getting your heart broken.” Ugh. He felt like a fool, all right, talking in clichés that only belonged in romance novels.
“There’s nothing foolish about it.” Her suspicion fell away, replaced by sadness that turned down the corners of her mouth and darkened her eyes. “But you’re right. It’s hard. And it changes you forever.”
His ears perked up. Here was his chance to get her talking, to get the focus off himself. “You’ve been there?”
Her expression grew shuttered. “Yes. I know exactly how it feels.” He hoped for more, but a moment later, she seemed to give herself a mental shake and was again smiling.
“You never answered my question, earlier. Were you going to send your letter?”
“What do you think I should do?”
“If you love Courtney, I think you should. Only not
that
letter.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but it’s too much about what you think she did wrong. When you say
you never let me close
and
you put up walls
, it sounds like you’re blaming her. I understand you were hurting when you wrote it. Angry. But that’s going to make her defensive.”
“You remember the wording.” Just how much of the letter could she quote verbatim?
A pink glow blushed her cheeks. “It moved me.”
That gave Bryan pause. For a moment, he was almost sorry he hadn’t written those lines, in spite of them being hogwash. He wished he could have inspired those feelings in Gloria.
She glanced at him mischievously from under her lashes. “My husband and I fell in love writing letters to each other. Well, notes, really. We passed them back and forth in math class. Back in junior high.”
“Husband?” The word came out a croak. What the hell? Bryan took a quick look at the ring finger of her left hand. It was bare. But maybe she didn’t wear a wedding ring. Not every married woman did.
Well, shit. If she had a husband, all bets were off. That was another one of his rules—no messing with married ladies. He might not have many standards, but what few he held, he kept.
She nodded, her expression soft, her eyes dreamy. “We were married eleven years. A couple for much longer. Since eighth grade.”
He let go a silent sigh of relief.
Were married
. So the husband was no longer a thing. That meant divorce or…
Gloria continued recounting her tale. “Emilio would pass me notes, just silly things, sometimes only funny little drawings. In high school, he’d sneak notes into my locker. When we graduated, he joined the service. We wrote back and forth for a few years. He’d send me letters telling me how much he loved me. He even sent me poems. When he came home, even after we got married, he’d still leave me little notes every day before he went to work. Always telling me how much I meant to him. How he’d miss me while he was gone.”
Bryan understood now, just from the way she spoke so lovingly of her Emilio, that there had been no divorce. “How long since he…”
“He died twelve years ago.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make the conversation about me.”
“No. Don’t apologize, please. I’m sorry for your loss.” If such a thing as heartbreak really existed, this woman had truly experienced it. She’d been left a young widow with a child to raise. How had she managed? Did she have family nearby to help? He had all kinds of questions.
But before he could ask any, she said, “So back to your letter. Instead of putting the blame on Courtney for what went wrong, you need to go a different route.”
“Such as?”
“Tell her how
you
feel. Take more responsibility for what you did wrong. How you contributed to the break up. Apologize. You can’t change the past, but you’ve learned from your mistakes. Promise to do everything you can to make her feel loved from now on.”
Well, that sounds like a hell of a lot of work.
Did women really fall for that stuff? What was he thinking? Of course they did. It was almost sad, how sweet words and flowery promises could get to them. “What if she doesn’t come around?”
“She might not, right away. You have to give it time.”
Time. That was what he needed, more time with Gloria. They were almost finished with their coffees. Soon, she’d be saying she had to leave.
And the coffee shop was filling up as the hour approached noon. Office workers and downtown shoppers were already lining up for the shots of caffeine they needed to get through the rest of the afternoon. Customers were grabbing tables left and right, piercing the bubble of privacy surrounding him and Gloria.
“It’s getting crowded here,” he offered in a pre-emptive move. “Would you like to go somewhere else for a bit?”
“Why don’t we take a walk around the park?” she suggested.
They bussed their coffee mugs, and then walked the few blocks to McKinley Park, chatting on the way.
“So you’re free until the afternoon?” Bryan asked. “Is that your usual schedule?”
“No, my schedule varies. I own a
salon over on Harland Ave.
Shear Magic
.” She smiled, acknowledging the pun. “But I work there as a stylist, too. I’m usually there to open, but a couple of days a week I go in late and stay to close. What about you? Are you generally free during the day?”
“Thursday is my light day. I have two classes early in the morning. I’ll go back to campus this afternoon for office hours.”
They made their way to the fountain in the center of the park. Young moms with strollers ambled along the walking paths or sat on wooden benches, talking on their cell phones. Other benches were occupied by people who’d packed a lunch and were using their half-hour break to eat and absorb some early June sunshine.
Bryan bought Gloria and himself ice cream pops from a vendor cart. As they circled the fountain, she spoke. “Tell me a little more about Courtney.”
He almost dropped his ice cream on the path. “Such as?”
“Well, why did she put up those walls?” He must have given her a blank look, because she added, “In the letter. You said she wouldn’t let you close, wouldn’t let you love her. Why do you think that was? Were there ever any clues?”
“I’m sure her parents’ unhappy marriage had plenty to do with it.” Yep, he was already down the rabbit hole. His first few lies had only led to more and more.
Was it too late to back out?
And tell her what?
That it was just a ruse to spend more time with her?
Did he think she’d be flattered by that? Not a chance in hell.
You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t tear your head off.