“Mable?”
I caught him in the most compromising way, and it was not what I expected when I first knocked on the door of his hotel room. His hair was darker from the dampness, and a white towel hung nicely around his waist. Dewdrops of water slid off Simon’s chest, and I couldn’t help but smile. It was ironic, almost like something I might have daydreamed about, because God knew I had more fantasies about Simon than Walter Mitty had about life.
“For heaven’s sake, put on a T-shirt or something.” A fever washed over me, and the smell of fresh soap only put me further in hot water.
“Well, you didn’t give me a chance.” He grinned, enjoying the fact that I had found him like this.
Show-off.
“I came in from a run when I got your text. So, thinking I had time, I jumped in the shower.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Shake it off … Geez, woman, tell him why you’re here. “Sorry to barge in on you like this, but can I crash at your place for an hour?” I looked at him through my eyelashes. “Gloria has a film crew in our room, taping a segment: what to wear for fashion week or—in your case, what not to wear …” I smirked, allowing my eyes to trail the length of him.
“Ha. You’re a funny bird.”
“Seriously, who knew you had this underneath?” I pointed my fingers leisurely at him. I had wanted to say something the last time he had removed his shirt, but I hadn’t wanted to inflate his head. “And you’re not even egotistical?”
“Not even vaguely.” He placed a hand on his hip. A good thing; I don’t want that towel to go anywhere.
“Why would I be? I’ve been rocking abs since the age of six—It’s no big deal.” He grinned.
“So, are you going to let me in or what?” I leaned into the doorway, standing under his observing eyes, pretending not to be bothered by him. That was what I kept telling myself as the heat rose at the back of my neck.
“I’m not sure if I should. After what happened last time, I don’t want you to take advantage of me.” He began the verbal dance I knew too well, the kind that would get a reaction out of me.
I stifled a laugh. “Funny, I could have sworn you liked it.”
“Trust me, Mable, liking it wasn’t the problem.”
So what was? I wanted to say, but the words couldn’t find their way out. Now I knew it was possible Simon couldn’t move away from what he had endured. I promised Gloria I wouldn’t mention anything I knew about his wife—not that Gloria had told me much, but I would have to wait until he was ready to talk about it. That is—if he ever was.
“I’ll try to contain myself, Mr. Rowe.”
“Well, if you promise to try, then I guess I could let you in.” He slid his arm down and moved off to the side, allowing me to venture farther into his room. The space was similar, but smaller than mine. The color scheme played on a soft red, the opposite of my room’s green. Two Jansen Louis XV sofas flanked the center of the room, and a small round table with two chairs was in front of a large window. It seemed too delicate for a man like Simon.
“I thought of ordering us breakfast.” He picked up the phone. “Tell me you didn’t eat?”
In my room, I ordered a sundried tomato with sausage, served with fresh fruit. But that was two hours ago.
“Not really.” I flipped my hair to the side, trying to relax, keeping my eyes off where they shouldn’t be. Instead, I plucked the magazine off the coffee table.
“So what would you like?”
“No, on second thought it’s okay. I’m not really hungry—” Not for food, anyway.
“Mable.” In a deeper voice, he continued. “I will not eat alone in front of you. Just stop being stubborn and tell me what you like, or I’m just going to order for you.” He placed his mouth back on the receiver. “Yes hello, I would like to place an order … Yes, room 201 …”
“I’ll have a crepe—No, wait, pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream on top, please?” I interrupted. I might as well, since he was offering. “Oh, coffee would be nice.” I waved my fingers in the air to get his attention. “One more thing.” I bit my lip. “Add a French toast to that … with breakfast potatoes on the side. Would that be possible?” He looked at me in amazement. “I never told you this, but I have this syndrome, that I need to eat, like, all the time,” I said, once he placed the receiver back down
“No worries. I like a bird who eats.” Simon laughed.
“I’m going to put some clothes on before you get any ideas.” He smiled boyishly, or I thought that was what he did. I was trying to avoid looking at him.
“Whatever makes you more comfortable,” I said from the sofa, flipping through the pages of a travel magazine.
“For me? Or you?” he said from behind. I lifted my head and quickly shifted in the settee. His eyes were a little darker.
“You think this is making me uncomfortable? Please, I’m a professional. I’m used to seeing half-naked men.” I leisurely folded my arms on the peak of the sofa, resting my chin without batting an eye. “Oh wait, it came out wrong … I mean …”
“Yeah, I get it, but you’ve seen nothing like me before.” The biggest grin appeared on his face. If he wants to play, then play we must.
“Pssff, sure I have.” I smiled. “Besides, there’s nothing sexier than a man with a great mind.”
“Which I’m qualified for.” He walked toward me.
“That would be debatable,” I said, and he snorted a laugh. “Are you sure you’re not egotistical?”
“You think you’d know me by now, Mable.”
The thing with Simon was, it went beyond comfort. Our friendship wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth, either. Underneath, it was a host of other things … We played around like children, splashing in the water but were afraid of getting wet. We watched the tide—hoping it wouldn’t take us, though it was only a matter of time before it would. We both knew it. I wanted him as much as he wanted me, but there were consequences to getting the things you want. I thought we both believed it, or we would have dived in by now.
“Well then, if this doesn’t bother you I’ll just stay like this,” he teased, leaning down closer.
The tide comes in.
“Sure, why not.”
The tide goes out.
We always seemed to push those lines that held us in place, which kept us apart. We stayed where we were until a knock at the door broke the spell, and it was Simon who pulled away, making his way toward the door.
“Where are you going?” I laughed, knowing whoever was behind that door would get an eye full.
“What does it look like?”
“Like that?”
“Why not? You didn’t seem to mind it.” He winked, opening the door, and a man in a black uniform wheeled in our breakfast.
“Where would you like me to set it up, sir?” The man casually glanced at Simon, then back to me. He probably thought we were lovers.
“The table next to the window would be all right, mate,” Simon said. It took the man a few seconds to empty the cart, placing everything on the round mahogany table.
“Thank you, sir,” the man said after Simon tipped him. “Enjoy your meal.” He walked out of the room.
“I better get dressed before I’m accused of indecent exposure.” Simon headed off into the other room.
I smiled, but inside I was downhearted, wondering what would have happened if we weren’t interrupted, but now that the food was there, my focus shifted to the French toast and strawberry pancakes that were begging to be eaten.
Moments later, Simon reappeared clothed, wearing a basic black T-shirt and faded five-pocket jeans. He took the seat in front of me, and I had one leg up to my chin. I felt his eyes on me as I buttered my bread, piling everything onto it.
“Wow, I’m glad you’re not hungry,” Simon smirked.
“I know, imagine if I was.” I jiggled my eyebrows. He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief, and his eyes descended to his plate. It had been over a year since we first met, which was hard to believe, and I wondered how much more of Simon I didn’t know. In many ways, he still was a real mystery to me.
“Okay, so what’s the deal with you?”
“What?” He briefly looked up from his plate.
“How come you’re single?” It amazed me I hadn’t asked that question before. Then it occurred to me that he had never asked about my past relationships either. Or was he purposely avoiding the subject at all cost? Because if he had the right to know my history, I had the right to his. With Simon, that subject felt like it was off-limits.
“What sort of question is that?” He let out a low laugh.
“It’s a fundamental question … Just answer it,” I mused. “You’re single, right?” I was swimming, hoping I’d somehow get to the point. “And why is that? Do you have a weird fetish or something?” I asked.
“So what, I’m single. There’s nothing to look into, Dr. Phil.” He suspiciously constricted his eyes in my direction. “Wait a minute, what is it exactly you’re trying to extort from me?”
That’s the problem when you’re friends with someone who has the same astrology sign. You can’t pull a fast one without them knowing what you’re up to. I wanted to open the conversation, stirring it right to the source—Vanessa or his deceased wife and, of course, me. If three is a crowd, I wonder what they say about four.
“I’m not trying anything,” I said, not looking him in the eye. “You can’t blame me for wondering. Look at you.” I held out a hand. “You’re hot and successful … with abs of freaking steel.” I took the napkin off my lap to wipe my mouth. “Good grief, for your apartment alone, I would date you.”
“Might I remind you … you had your chance, mate,” he said, half-joking.
“Are you talking about when we first met? And you propositioned me to sleep with you?” I leaned in closer, continuing this proverbial two-step we had going between us. “Because that wasn’t asking me out on a proper date.”
“It wasn’t like that …” He cleared his throat and I shot him a look.
“You were trying to cover it up, but that’s exactly what it was.”
“Anyhow, maybe it was the whiskey talking,” he replied.
“Or Richard,” I said honestly. He did a double take.
“Richard?” he said, confused.
“What’s short for Richard?” I held his gaze, and he finally got it.
He laughed. “Nah, yeah … Okay, maybe that too.” He shifted in his chair. “Anyhow, it doesn’t matter; you shot me down.”
“You kinda did too,” I pointed out, but he didn’t respond. “Perhaps you should have taken your time and gotten to know me first … before making any propositions.” I took a sip of my coffee.
“Look, I’m sorry if you took it the wrong way. Just to be clear, I wasn’t looking for a one-night stand. Mable, I was interested in you—in every possible way,” Simon said.
My stomach took a dip.
“So to answer your question, I’m single because I choose to be.” He let out a sigh. “Why waste my time with anyone when I know what I want?”
“And what is it you want?” I asked, taking another bite of my crepe.
“You know the answer, Mable. So stop acting like you don’t.” He jerked his eyes away, and the silence just hung there for a moment before he continued. Maybe he wanted me to say something, but I wasn’t going to come out of the woods unless he called for me. No more shades. I wanted it in bright colors.
“In all honesty—” He pushed his unfinished plate to the side and leaned in closer. “I spend a stupid amount of time on airplanes. I’m a crazy workaholic. I need to have at least twenty projects going on, and that doesn’t leave me much time for anything else.” Message received—loud and clear.
“Yeah, but don’t you ever get lonely?” I knew I did.
“I find it’s easier being just me and my shadow. What’s the point? To get involved in something just to pass the time? Besides, I’m never alone. I have Captain, and … you.”
“Me?”
In his eyes, I caught a hint of something, some sort of truth that was wearing him down. I felt it coming, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before he let me in to see what was behind that wall. “Wow—the cat comes before me?”
“Don’t get jealous. That feline has been in my life longer.” He grinned. “I’m happy you’re in my life, and I appreciate someone who has something of substance to say, even though she lacks good taste in music and is a horrible liar.”
“Ah, I don’t lie.”
He gave me a knowing look. What does he know? I think I’m a fantastic liar.
“Pass me the croissant, please?” It didn’t look like I was anywhere near to cracking him open. “Oh, and the Nutella … merci beaucoup.”
“What about you?” Simon asked.
“Why I’m single? Ha, where do I start?” I held out my cup to Simon, who poured the hot coffee in.
“My love life is … like a madwoman’s breakfast.” I attempted to say it in an Australian accent, but it came out sounding more like Patchy the Pirate. When his laugh quieted down, I continued. “I think my expectation of love tends to be big, which makes guys run for the hills. I don’t know, maybe I’m not lovable.”
He made a noise that came deep from his throat, and I looked up to meet his eyes. “Can I be frank with you?” he asked.
“I prefer the Simon of five minutes ago,” I replied, watching the sides of his lips go up.
“That could be arranged.” He gave me a sexy grin before putting his fork down and looking me in the eyes. “Let’s be serious for a moment. I think you should stop blaming yourself. It’s not your fault she left, you know.”
“I know,” I said, spreading the Nutella inside my croissant. I could feel his eyes watching me.
“No, I don’t think you do.” He sat farther back in his chair, his face basking in the sunlight.
“Look, you want the honest truth? It never worked out because you wasted your time with boys. When you needed was a man. A man who means what he says and says what he means. Someone who will remind you every day what an incredible woman you are. There you have it; that’s just my opinion.” He pulled the plate back in front of him and continued to eat.
“Sure,” I murmured. “They’re all lining up at my front door.” I waved my fork over my shoulder. “I was never the kind of girl that had a long list of criteria for the kind of man I wanted in my life. I just want someone simple. Someone to see me for who I am—is that too much to ask?”
“No, it’s not. Trust me, he’s not that far from your reach.”
I swallowed everything whole. Here’s to hoping. He observed me from across the table like he was summing me up.
“You’re fun, witty, and I adore you. Just for your legs alone, I would date you.” Simon smiled from across the table, and my heart did a flip.
“Anyway, how did this become about me?” I asked.
“You started it.” He poured more coffee into his cup. After a short moment, he asked, “Is Julian taking you out?” He diverted his eyes back to his plate.
“No … well.” I cleared my throat. “I don’t know. I haven’t given him an answer just yet.” I smiled. Liar, liar.
“How come?” I caught his eyes as they came back up to meet mine, a visible sign of annoyance.
“Well, you of all people should know to never get involved with people you work with. Right?”
Touché. I pushed his words back to him, but what I should have said was, I’m in love with you … idiot! But, as usual, I chose silence over admission.
“Right.”
“But lucky for him, I have no problem with that,” I said. If I wished for a reaction, I sure got it.
“What?” He chewed his food slower. “You have me confused, so let me get this straight. Are you or are you not seeing him tonight?” he said, without taking his eyes off me.
“No, I don’t think I’m going to.” I’m toying with him. Is it wrong that I like it?
“Smart girl. Anyhow, you’ll only be the flavor of the week, you know that, right?” His shoulders relaxed.
“Too bad, though, French men have this … je ne sais quoi? A way to seduce a woman.” I brought my cup to my lips and watched him nervously twitch in his seat. “When I arrived, I found my room filled with red roses. You should see it … it’s insane.” I tried not to make it obvious that I was observing him under my lashes.
“Yeah?” His eyebrows came together, and his jaw tightened.
That’s it? All right, I’ll press on. “He texted a dozen times just this morning,” I said. It was actually only once, but who cared about the minor details?
“Huh.” He looked down at his plate, tossing around the chunks of scrambled eggs. What is going on in that head of yours, Mr. Rowe? I wished I knew.
“Julian keeps insisting on taking me out, and I’m running out of excuses for what to tell him.”
“It’s easy. Just say—no.”
I ignored him and continued to talk. “On second thought, maybe I should just go out with him.” I leaned back in my chair. “It’s not like I have anything else going on in my life.”
His dark eyes snapped up to meet mine. He rushed forward, pulling me into his arms, his warm lips on mine, dominating. A few things from the table crashed to the floor as he pulled me harder up against his chest. I wondered if he felt my heart pounding wildly inside me.
“Stay with me,” he said, in a hushed voice I would have missed it if his lips weren’t right up against my ear.
“What?” My body softened under his touch, melting faster than wax from a flame.
“You still want to see Paris?” Simon asked.
“Yes.”
“Stay back a day … We’ll go home together on Wednesday.” His voice was silky. It wasn’t what he said—it was what he didn’t that got my attention.
“With you … here?”
“Sure, there’s enough room in here for both of us … I want you with me,” he said, without hesitation. I had nothing booked for the following days, so that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that there were hundreds of big elephants dancing in the room, and one of them was taunting me, wearing my Forever Cat Lady T-shirt. I can’t think right now. My brain was buzzing with such good feelings that I was overlooking one good reason not to go along.
“Yeah … okay …” He left me breathless, yearning for more. I only had two things on my mind. One—why did he have to be such a good kisser? Two—why wasn’t he still kissing me?
“Okay,” he reconfirmed.
I wasn’t entirely sure what I had agreed to. But, then again, we didn’t have to say it out loud. We both wanted it, this passion, this tension that existed between us, and it hung in the silence. Suppressing it only intensified it more.
“Promise me you’ll never go near Julian alone. Always bring someone with you.”
“What? Why?” I stepped back
“I don’t trust that guy … Tell Julian you’re with someone else,” he said, still holding on, as if, if he let go, he would lose me. “The only thing—don’t tell him it’s me,” he said. Here we go with the two-step again.
“Wait a minute … not that it’s any of Julian’s business, but why not?” I asked. I knew what I wanted, but I wondered if it was clouding my judgment. Simon wanted me to stay—to spend the night with him? I wasn’t stupid. I can see when I’m only wanted for one thing.
“Look, the reason is—” he began.
“Oh, I get it. You want no one to know—for this to get out? After spending time between the sheets—we would be done, right?” It became clear. He’s no better than anyone else, and it’s devastating.
“No, no, no, that’s not what this is about—” His face went from pleasant to complete and utter confusion, and I pushed out of his arms, adding more space between us.
“So what is it then? I’m not something you can have fun with and throw away when it doesn’t serve your purposes. I deserve more respect than that, Simon.”
With a kink in his brow, he said, “Can you calm down and let me explain? You have it all wrong—” He stopped me from stepping on a piece of broken fine china. Picking it up, he placed it back on the once perfectly-set table we had started off with, now in disarray—like us.
“You once said you cared about me. I thought I could trust you, but I guess I was wrong.” I made my way to the front door.
“Mable, I am the only one who’s been looking out for you, so don’t you dare twist this up. You don’t understand what I’m thinking or feeling because if you did, you wouldn’t be acting like this.”
If I wasn’t blinded by rage, I would have said, tell me, then—tell me what I mean to you? Because I can’t take this foolish game anymore. But instead, in the heat of the moment, I went with, “Oh yeah, and how am I acting, Simon … hmm?” I paused in my steps, turning just enough to look at him.
“Like a crazy person. I said one thing, and you spun out on it. Making up things in your head. I’m not the villain here, and yet you keep making me out to be one.”
“I shouldn’t have come. This was a mistake.” I said, wanting to get far away from him.
“Where are you going?” He kept right up with me. “I’m sorry, okay? Whatever I said to offend you, just give me a second to clear things up.”
“Please, I have no time for this right now …” Exasperated, I let out a long breath when Simon put himself between me and the door.
“You’re stubborn, you know that?” he said, after a failed attempt to pull me into his arms, a last attempt to disarm me.
“Well, I warned you,” I replied. There might have been a moment of truce, but then I thought what an idiot I was to believe that Simon was different. Inside, the storm brewed back up again … Someone with substance … blah, blah, blah … Please, what bullshit, and I had played right into it. Men will say anything to get what they want.
“Move out of the way, Simon. You will make me late for the show.” His eyes searched my face just before turning from the door. As I reached for the knob, his voice stopped me.
“Hey, I wasn’t planning on you choosing me. You’re the one who wanted this, and now you’re walking away?”
“Stupid me, I thought you chose me too.” I gave a quick side-glance, and with a swift movement, I opened the door and walked through, not waiting for his response. When the door closed behind me, everything went out of focus.