Chapter Eight
Sufficient time had passed since my near disastrous hotel encounter. I was enjoying myself by delving into more pleasurable activities. If love were to find me, I wanted it to be with someone with whom I could connect. Although I doubted that would ever happen, I was willing to wait while doing the things I valued.
On this particular day, I was immersing myself in one such passion. To a lover of literature, bookstores can have an aphrodisiacal quality. Senses are assaulted from the moment you enter. I love the look, feel, and scent of a good book. There is something exciting and almost sensual when surrounded by undiscovered worlds of words. I loved words and they loved me back. Structure ruled my everyday life, but in books, I ran free. I expressed myself through reading and writing. It was a cathartic way to describe exactly how I felt in any given circumstance, but I hadn’t indulged myself in a long time. I had too many thoughts and responsibilities running through my head. I realized that I needed a break. Since I didn’t have time for a vacation, at least not a physical one to a tropical island, I escaped into book stores.
I had grown tired of being surrounded by well-meaning family and friends. Everyone seemed to have an opinion about what I should do with my life. They thought they all knew what was best for me and they felt free to express their ideas about my work, finances, and personal life. I took offense more often than I cared to admit. I appreciated their concern, but their actions discounted the fact that I am an intelligent and capable woman who can manage life on my own. Death was an enemy who hadn’t played fair by taking my husband from me much too soon, but fighting that enemy had made me stronger. The grim reaper had taken me on a wicked journey with each day beginning and ending on a tumultuous ride through horror. Once I had exited the madness and regained my balance, I learned to find a way to continue living and come out from the shadows.
I had dipped my toe into the waters of a social life, but the unforgiving sea of death had stripped me of the boundaries of convention. An evening out no longer consisted of a casual drink or two with friends without turning into a what should Hope do next session. After the first few months of living on my own terms, I noticed that suggestions were replaced by kudos. One thing that didn’t change was friends throwing hints about dating. I was constantly informed about single men and friends of friends. After my Vegas faux pas, I decided that finding someone to be with wasn’t a priority. Once I ignored the comments, the pressure of sharing my life with someone fell away. I reasoned that if it happened, it happened.
Bump!
“I’m so sorry.”
I looked down at the drops of coffee that had spilled out from my cup to land on the lapel of my coat as the rumble of a deep voice snared me. The effect was magnetic, pulling me with its intensity. It reached down inside of me and hooked me at my core.
“What can I do?”
My eyes flew up as I connected the voice with its owner. His features affected me just as powerfully as his tone. His eyes were kind, while his jawline was severe and strong. As my gaze drifted from those hazel pools down to the sharp angles of his face, my inhibitions fell heavily to the floor. I studied him as one would examine a work of art and became lost in my thoughts.
“Here.”
As the deep timbre resonated, my musings went down a sensuous road and I forgot for a moment the accidental mishap that had brought us together. Slightly bewildered, I looked down and noticed his outstretched hand holding a napkin. My eyes widened as my mind cleared and I took the paper from him and dabbed at the spill of wet fabric.
“It’s fine.” My voice shook, but I was sure that he couldn’t detect the tremble. I didn’t want to look into his eyes again, thinking that he might discover the impact that his nearness was having on me. The unbidden images were overpowering and I was certain that he would figure out that my thoughts were traveling much further than the distance between his hand and mine.
“Is there anything that I can do to help?”
Despite my reservations, I had to look up. Again, the little Catholic schoolgirl inside of me demanded proper behavior. It would have been rude to not meet his eyes. I fell into their kaleidoscopic vortex. They were a smattered composition of brown and green with gold flecks floating within the hues. I was reminded of specks of sunlight on the water’s surface. Their depths pulled me in. I followed the gentle current as I continued to study his face. His gaze was filled with concern, but a smile played at the corners of his mouth. Unconsciously, I again looked away to break the connection.
“Look at me.” His tone was gentle. “Please.” The rich sound was reassuring and kind. I honored the request. “Don’t worry about it. It was an accident. It didn’t even stain.” I smiled a weak smile, enough of one to let him know that I appreciated his concern. As his chin tipped downward, a lock of blond hair fell onto his forehead. “Can I at least buy you another cup of coffee? I mean, I did ruin that one.”
I didn’t know this man, but I wanted to. A cup of coffee and a few more minutes didn’t seem near enough time for me to learn the things about him that I wanted to know. The first of which was his name.