Читать книгу Winter's Kiss - Beth Andrews - Страница 11
ОглавлениеDAPHNE HAD JUST drifted off again when the scent of coffee grew stronger, as if the pot had grown legs and walked over to tempt her out of sleep. She was having a rather heated internal debate on whether or not she should lift her head to investigate this turn of events when someone nudged her shoulder. She didn’t move and that someone did it again.
“Poke me one more time,” she warned Oakes, eyes still squeezed shut, her face hidden in her folded arms, “and I will kill you. Slowly. And with great relish.”
An idle threat, really, and one that didn’t have much of a punch due to her being unwilling to lift her head from where it rested, quite comfortably, thank you very much. It didn’t help that her tongue wasn’t currently working—her words came out as a cross between a slur and a groan.
Plus, why kill him before he’d had the chance to see how awesome, adorable and amazing she was? He was the man she loved, after all.
At least, she was pretty sure he was.
She opened her eyes and peeked under her arm at him. Her heart sighed, one long, happy sigh. He wore the same faded jeans as last night and an Astros T-shirt, the soft material hugging his broad shoulders. He had a body on him, a surprisingly hard and muscular one, despite the fact that he sat on his rear for a living. His jaw was sharp, his nose straight and she knew that when he smiled, he had even, white teeth and a charm about him that went right to her gut. Dark hair and green eyes completed what was, all in all, one very pretty picture.
But she hadn’t fallen for him because of his good looks. Or, at least, not only because of them. Yes, he was handsome—all the Bartasavich brothers were gorgeous, including her own brother, Zach. No, what set Oakes apart was his kindness. His warmth and generosity.
Her brain still foggy, her mouth feeling as if it had been filled with cotton, Daphne lifted her head. Realized she’d drooled in her sleep. Wonderful. She wiped the side of her mouth, making the move as casual as possible. How the heck was she going to convince him she was his soul mate after drooling on his sofa?
“You are alive,” he said, the right side of his mouth lifted in a grin. “I’d wondered.”
“Alive and well,” she assured him, though her voice sounded rusty. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and tossed back the blanket, which she assumed he’d covered her with last night, before swinging her legs around, her bare feet connecting with the cool wood floor.
His gaze dropped and his mouth tightened before he jerked up his eyes to stare at a spot somewhere in the vicinity of the ceiling. She followed his gaze but there was nothing to see except white ceiling so she glanced down. Oops. Her dress had shifted and twisted and ridden up during her sleep. She hadn’t flashed him everything God had given her, but it was pretty darn close.
Lifting her hips, she tugged down the material, making sure all was covered and right with the world. When she looked back at Oakes, her breath caught at the intensity in his gaze. The interest.
The attraction.
He blinked and it was gone, just...poof, and his expression smoothed out as if it had never been. She could relate. For years she’d gone back and forth over whether to embrace her feelings for him or pretend they didn’t exist. But she knew, whatever choices they made didn’t matter. They could fight the inevitable, could pretend there was nothing between them, but if they were meant to be—and her instincts were telling her they were—then they’d end up together. Eventually.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt for her to give fate a bit of a nudge.
He held out his hand. Now, she was completely capable of standing on her own—she’d been doing so since she was a baby, after all—but she wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to touch Oakes, to test him, just a bit. Placing her hand in his, she let him tug her to her feet, making sure her breasts subtly brushed the hard planes of his chest as she did so.
He would have backed up, she knew, but he was trapped between her body and the coffee table, her fingers still curled around his. She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand and slowly lifted her head, her hair brushing his chin. He went completely still except for the working of his throat as he swallowed.
“Thank you,” she said, sounding like a breathy sex kitten.
Hey, if that’s what it took to get him to stop pretending he wasn’t attracted to her, she could go that route, complete with pointy ears, whiskers and tight catsuit.
Meow.
Their eyes met. Anticipation filled her, grew to an almost painful point, when his gaze dropped to linger on her mouth. He leaned forward. Her heart hammered. Her lips parted. Oh, God, this was it. The moment she’d been waiting for. He was going to kiss her. Well, that would certainly put an end to the whole I-see-you-only-as-a-platonic-nonsexual-friend act he pulled whenever they were together.
It wasn’t quite the romantic scenario she’d fantasized about when she was seventeen and in the throes of a huge, heartbreaking crush on him. And maybe having him get this close to her when she undoubtedly had morning breath wasn’t such a great idea, but if the man was finally going to kiss her after she’d waited six long years, she sure wasn’t about to deny him simply because they weren’t on a moonlit beach and she needed a mint.
She let her eyes drift shut.
Only to have them pop open when he gave her hand a friendly squeeze and slid free of her grasp. “No problem,” he said, his voice gruff.
Then, as if to make sure her humiliation was complete, as if to drive home the fact that he found her harmless and cute, like a child, he patted her head.
The man literally patted her on the top of her head.
She didn’t know whether to cry or punch him in the throat.
She settled on nipping the coffee cup from his hand as he raised it for a drink. Took a cautious sip before he’d even had time to blink or lower his arm back to his side.
“Ah, the nectar of the gods. And the only good thing about waking up in the morning.”
“Please,” he said, his tone all sorts of dry. “Help yourself.”
Feeling a bit better, she sent him a cheeky grin and drank again, deeper this time now that she knew it wasn’t blistering hot. Served him right after he’d gotten her hopes up only to cruelly dash them.
She gulped down some more, praying the caffeine kicked in quickly. The coffee could use a hefty dose of both cream and sugar but beggars couldn’t be choosers—and she was well used to playing the part of beggar. “I don’t suppose you’re hiding a bagel on your person?”
“Excuse me?” he asked, his expression bemused.
“A bagel,” she repeated slowly. Maybe he needed the coffee as much as she did. She handed the mug back to him. “Or a muffin? At this point I’d even take a scone.” When he just stared at her as if she’d lost her ever-loving mind, she wrinkled her nose. “No, huh? Too bad. I’m starving.”
“How about we start you off with some dry toast? See how that goes.”
She made a face. “How about you slather some peanut butter on that toast and we’ll have a deal.” She eyed the coffee cup he still hadn’t bothered drinking from. “If you’re not going to finish that...”
He handed it back to her.
She wished it was that easy to get everything she wanted from him.
She headed toward his kitchen, crossed to the large fridge and opened it. Grabbed the half-and-half and poured a hefty amount into the cup.
“Sugar?” she asked. She’d been to his house before, of course. Plenty of times, the most recent being over the Fourth of July weekend when he’d thrown an impromptu barbecue and had told her to feel free to drop by.
They were friends, but not the kind who knew how the other organized his—or her—kitchen. More like the kind that texted every few weeks to check in with each other, met up for coffee or lunch once a month and invited each other to casual get-togethers.
That was all about to change. It was past time they discovered if they were meant to be more.
He joined her, reaching for the sugar bowl in an upper cabinet, his shirt riding up slightly to show the ridges of his stomach. She’d touched him, she remembered, her fingers tingling with the memory. Last night she’d slapped his chest, then had kept her hand there, had felt the smoothness of his skin, the coarse hair dusting his chest.
The first time she’d touched him in anything other than a friendly, hey-we’re-buddies-and-sort-of-but-not-really-related sort of way in years. Since her high school graduation.
Progress. At long, long last.
She added sugar to her coffee then gulped it down gratefully. “That’s better,” she murmured as Oakes poured himself a fresh cup. “Now, what about that toast?”
“I ordered from Pitter Patterson’s Bakery,” he said, mentioning the name of one of her favorite breakfast restaurants. “I thought you might want something in your stomach other than wine.”
“You,” she said, setting her cup down, “are a prince among men. Thank you. But there’s no wine in my stomach. I don’t drink it.”
“You don’t?”
Was that what the women he usually dated drank? Probably. He went for the socialite types or the well-educated, high-powered corporate woman. Tall, thin and blonde, though that one VP he’d dated two years ago had been a petite brunette, the kind who worked out regularly and was going back to school for her third degree.
Daphne shook off the feelings of inadequacy. She was just as good as anyone. Better than most, certainly, at least when it came to being good enough for Oakes. Now all she needed to figure out was if she was right for him. And if, as her instincts told her, he was right for her, too.
“Nope,” she said. “Wine gives me a headache.” Plus, she never knew what to order, what color went with her dinner or the whole sniff-sip-swish routine that went with drinking it. “The credit for last night’s buzz belongs solely to tequila.”
“Tequila?” he repeated, staring at her as if she’d admitted to downing an entire bottle of the stuff in one sitting.
“The other nectar of the gods,” she assured him. “Anyway, I think I’ll take a moment to freshen up before we eat. Be right back.”
She grabbed her purse from the coffee table then padded barefoot down the hall to the bathroom. Flipped on the light, turned, and jumped at the sight of her reflection in the mirror. “Oh, dear Lord,” she whispered, horrified, her hand going to her crazy, frizzy hair. It stuck out straight in spots, was plastered to her head in others.
“Seriously?” she asked God through gritted teeth, her gaze on the ceiling as though she could see through it to heaven. “You let him see me like this? Whose side are you on?”
No wonder the man hadn’t wanted to kiss her.
Pulling a small brush from her bag, she attacked her hair, pulling the bristles through snarls that fought back valiantly. Too bad no amount of brushing could get the thick, naturally wavy strands to behave. Her makeup was long gone, except, of course, for the dark smudges of black eyeliner on her temples, the mascara caked on her lashes and rimming her lower lids. Sleep marks marred her cheek like a road map. She rubbed at them but that only made her face red.
Triple crap.
By the time she took care of personal business, washed her hands and face, tucked her hair behind both ears to get it to stop winging out like she had a bat on her head and went back to the kitchen, Oakes had set plates at the bar.
“Bless you,” she told him fervently as he handed her a glass of orange juice. “Seriously, you are definitely going to heaven for this.”
He poured juice into a second glass and as she sat she noticed he had silverware, cloth napkins, the whole shebang set out for them. Lessons from his mother, Daphne was sure. She didn’t know Rosalyn Moore personally, but she’d gleaned enough information about the woman from Oakes to know she believed in making the best out of any situation—such as having an uninvited, overnight guest. She also put a lot of stock into making a good impression and keeping up appearances.
Daphne wondered which one of those had kept Rosalyn married to Oakes’s father after he’d cheated on her with Daphne’s mom.
Oakes joined her on the other high-backed stool, his thigh pressing against hers for a brief moment before he shifted, ever so subtly away.
“Really, Oakes, thank you,” she said, sipping her orange juice. He’d poured her more coffee and had the cream and sugar on the counter. “You’re so sweet to take care of me this morning and for not kicking me out last night.”
“We’re family.”
She squeezed her glass. Hard. They weren’t family. Yes, yes, they had similar relatives but they were not related. Not in any way, shape or form. “You had every right to tell me to get lost,” she said, wanting him to say something, anything, that would give her some hope, some idea that he felt what she felt. That he, too, wanted to take a chance on whatever this was between them. “No one would have blamed you.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’m not sure Zach would agree with you on that.”
And that was not what she’d had in mind.
Zach. Right. The brother they shared. The bane of her existence and, she was fairly certain, the reason Oakes had yet to make a move on her. It was a tricky situation, undoubtedly. Oakes’s father, the very wealthy, very powerful Clinton Bartasavich, Sr. had four sons: Clinton, Jr. and Kane, both with his first wife; Oakes with Rosalyn, his second wife; and Zach with Susan, who’d been Oakes’s nanny at the time of the affair.
Rosalyn had eventually divorced Senior, after ten years and numerous infidelities on his part. She’d remarried and had two younger sons. Susan, too, had moved on, marrying Michael Lynch. And having Daphne.
Yes, sir. Tricky, tricky, tricky.
“I don’t think even Zach could blame you if you’d turned me away,” Daphne said to Oakes, although her brother did have a sanctimonious and judgmental streak, especially when it came to her. And a major stick up his butt when it came to the Bartasavich side of his family. “I mean, I did show up at your house in the middle of the night, drunk.”
Oakes lifted a shoulder. Always a good guy, he didn’t seem to want her gratitude. “It’s no big deal.” He turned, grinned at her. “Livened up my night, that was for sure.”
She stared at her spoon, concentrated on stirring and stirring and stirring her coffee. Cleared her throat. “Yes, well, I shouldn’t have done it.” Especially now that she realized she could have easily interrupted something. What if he’d had a woman over? He’d been seeing Sylvie Green the past few weeks. Sylvie, with her shiny, golden hair and tiny waist. What if she’d been here, in his house, in his bed, when Daphne showed up?
She wasn’t sure she could have handled that, not in her inebriated state.
Ah, the clarity of sobriety. Too little, too late.
“Anyway, I really appreciate you taking me in,” she continued, the thought of him being with Sylvie making her sound less grateful and more annoyed. “It meant a lot to me.”
“Like I said, I couldn’t turn you away.”
No, he couldn’t. Not Oakes. Hadn’t she counted on that, realized that even while drunk? He’d never do anything to hurt anyone.
“I’m still not sure how you ended up here, though,” he said. “You said you wanted to see me.”
Pretending it took all her concentration, she sipped her coffee. Had she said that? Well, at least she hadn’t told him the real reason she’d come here—to declare what could possibly be her undying love for him.
Yay. One point for self-control.
“Did I?” she asked with what she hoped was casual curiosity. She forced a light laugh. “I must have really been out of it. The last thing I remember clearly was getting in the cab and telling the driver to bring me here as it was closer and I didn’t think I’d make it home without passing out.”
Lies, lies, horrible lies to protect herself, to save her from complete and utter humiliation.
He looked as if he was about to call her on her fibs when there was a knock on the door. “That must be the food,” he said, heading to answer it.
Thank God. She gulped more caffeine. Blurting out that she loved him and wanted them to be together didn’t seem like such a hot idea in the cold, harsh light of day. But she wasn’t ready to go back to how they’d always been, either. For years she’d told herself that what she felt for Oakes was nothing more than infatuation. The remnants of a childhood crush.
But what if it wasn’t? Surely a crush wouldn’t have lasted this long.
She still thought of him often. Too often. Her heart tripped when she received a call or text from him. If they went too long between visits or chats she missed him. And when something happened in her life, good or bad, he was the first person she thought of telling, the person she wanted to share the news with more than anyone else.
She’d told herself to just get over it, to get over him already. Had tried to push her feelings aside. It wasn’t as if she sat around waiting for him to notice her. She’d gotten her undergraduate degree and was now in grad school. She’d dated other men, had even had a short-lived engagement that had ended six months ago.
And when those relationships ended, she found herself right back to square one. Thinking about Oakes. Wondering if he was the one for her.
She used to believe that if she and Oakes were meant to be, they’d end up together no matter what directions life took them in.
Now, though, she wasn’t so sure letting fate lead the way was the best idea. What if this was their opportunity? She was single and Oakes and Sylvie had only gone out a few times so they weren’t serious. Her drunken epiphany last night just might have been destiny’s way of giving her a good swift kick in the rear and telling her to take charge.
She had to be smart here, though. Had to try and figure out what Oakes thought about her, about them, before giving away too many of her own thoughts, her own feelings.
He was too honorable to make the first move. He probably thought she was too young for him. And he wouldn’t want to rock the boat where their families were concerned. Yes, it would take Zach, and their mothers, time to get used to the idea of them being together, but they’d all just have to deal. She’d been waiting six long years for Oakes to notice her as something other than Zach’s younger sister and a friend.
It was time he noticed her as a woman.
She had to ease him into the idea of being with her. Get him to think it was the best idea ever.
Mainly, she had to let him think it was his idea. She knew all about men and how sensitive they were about being led to do something. He had to take the lead.
With some encouragement from her, of course.
“Here we are,” he said, after shutting the door. He held up a large bag with the diner’s logo on it. “Best breakfast this side of Houston.”
“Let me help you.” She slid to her feet, crossed to him in what she hoped was a slow, seductive sashay and not a clumpy, eager gallop. But damn it, she was starving and the food smelled really, really good. She took the bag, waved him back to his seat. “The least I can do is dish this out. And I hope you’ll let me pay for it and whatever the cab cost.”
“My treat and so was the cab ride.” He grinned down at her, teasing and friendly. “But maybe next time you go out, you shouldn’t spend all your money on drinks.”
And the last thing she wanted was for him to look at her that way, as if she was some cute kid sister who’d gotten herself into a jam. “I didn’t spend all my money on drinks. I switched purses before we left and my wallet wouldn’t fit in my smaller one. I thought I’d grabbed my credit card and a fifty but my cousins were rushing me and I’d only put a ten in there along with my grocery store’s rewards club card. Luckily, my cousins insisted on paying for dinner—as they should since they kidnapped me and all.”
“How did you pay for your drinks then?”
“I didn’t.”
He followed her back to the counter, though he wouldn’t let her take the bag. He set it down and faced her. “You have generous cousins. They must have really wanted to make sure you had a good time.”
She laughed. “They can be generous, and they paid for a few rounds for all of us, but they weren’t the only ones buying me drinks last night.”
“They weren’t?”
She smiled. Maybe she could get a reaction out of him after all. “No. There were some very sweet men there who insisted on supplying me with beverages.”
He blinked. Blinked again. “You let some strange guy buy your drinks?”
She pursed her lips. “Actually, it was two guys. Strangers, yes, but I don’t think they were strange. Christopher was really funny and Ray had that whole bad-boy vibe going on, which made the night interesting.”
Oakes frowned, his eyes narrowed and she wondered if it was too soon to assume he was jealous, or if he was thinking of her with those other guys—not both at once, of course—when she could be with him.
“You shouldn’t accept drinks from strangers at bars,” he said, sounding irritated—very unlike easygoing Oakes. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”
“Not in so many words.” Her mother knew she was capable of taking care of herself.
“I’m sure Zach warned you about it,” Oakes continued, not like a jealous man at all, but more like a lecturing teacher.
Or big brother.
“Men who buy women drinks at bars,” he continued in a voice way too similar to her freshman year lit professor’s superior tone, “do it for one reason and one reason only.”
“Really?” Setting her elbows on the counter, she cupped her chin in her hand and stared at him wide-eyed. “Do tell.”
His frown deepened. “They see you looking like...” He waved a hand at her, going up and down as if to take in her entire person. “That,” he finally said. “And they want to take you home.”
She blinked, slowly and with great exaggeration. “Whatever for?”
He looked so uncomfortable, she almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “You know what for.”
“A complete innocent like me?” she asked, hand to her chest. “Why, I haven’t a clue.”
“Sex,” he growled from between his teeth. “They’re hoping you’ll sleep with them.”
“No. That thought never crossed my mind. Thank God I have you here to set me straight on the nefarious ways of men in clubs.” She rolled her eyes. “It may come as a shock to you, but I’m not a child. I’ve gone out to clubs and bars before.” She lowered her voice and leaned forward. “I’ve even had sex before.”
He stepped back so quickly, he almost tripped over the stool behind him. “That’s... I don’t need to know...you don’t...”
She smiled. How could she not? He looked so horrified, but that wasn’t all. He looked...stunned. As if the thoughts of her and sex had never coexisted in his mind before. But then she looked closer, saw a definite heat in his eyes behind the panic, and she wondered if maybe, just maybe, that heat wasn’t the reason for the panic.
Maybe he didn’t see her as just a friend or some sort of little sister after all.
Only one way to find out.
She moved closer. “I know exactly why those guys bought me drinks, what they were hoping to get from me. But I choose who I go home with. Who I sleep with, share my body with.” At her words, his eyes dropped and raked over her body, before his jaw clenched and he yanked up his gaze once again. “I didn’t go home with any of those men, didn’t want to go with them. I came here. I came to you.”
