was a definite tingle rippling through her thighs. Talk about lousy timing.
They walked along the river until a cold wind forced them indoors, then they settled next to each other in the corner booth of a coffeehouse. The hours slipped by and they couldn’t seem to stop talking.
“Everyone tried to talk me out of pursuing this as a career,” Liz said with a shrug. “Except Nana, but she believed I could do anything. If I hadn’t won the grant right before graduating, I don’t know that I would have had the courage to make a go of my art.”
She laughed. “Art. That sounds so pretentious. It makes me feel that I should be wearing a black turtleneck and talking about the blindness of the masses. Then I remember I’m part of the masses.”
David rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. Her skin was smooth and pale. No freckles, no flaws at all. She had small hands with slender fingers. Sensibly short nails, he thought. No flashy polish, no rings. The plainness of her hands was at odds with the dangling earrings and charm-bracelet watch.
But he liked that the same way he liked her quick smile and easy laughter. He turned her hand over and traced the lines there.
“Which one is the life line?” he asked.
“I have no idea. I hope it’s the really long one. I have a lot of things on my to-do list and I need time.”
“You’ll make it,” he said with a confidence he couldn’t explain.
“Can I have that in writing?”
“Sure.”
He stared into her eyes. There were a thousand shades of green in her irises. Even more variations on red, gold and auburn in her hair. With his other hand, he reached up and tucked a loose strand behind her ear. He let his fingers linger, and her breath caught.
“David, this is crazy.”
“Tell me about it.”
He had to be at the airport by nine. He was already packed, with his luggage in the trunk of his rental car, but instead of thinking about his job and the opportunity he’d been offered, all he could wonder was how he and Liz could be alone together for more than the next couple of hours.
“Tell me more about your family,” she said. “What was it like growing up with a twin sister?”
“You really want to talk about that?” he asked.
Her mouth parted. “We have to talk about something.”
“Why?”
“Because if we don’t—”
Instead of waiting to hear what would happen if they didn’t, he kissed her. A handful of customers filled the coffeehouse. Several college students were having a heated debate on the economy, and an old man sat by himself reading the paper. David didn’t care about any of them. Right now there was only this moment, this woman and how her mouth felt against his.
She was soft and warm, melting into him as her lips returned the soft, chaste kiss he’d offered. Heat flared, as did desire.
She smelled like flowers, clean skin, sunshine and something that could only be Liz herself. Her fingers clung to his where they held hands. Her free arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.
He released her hand and pulled her hard against him. Sitting next to her, he knew, it would be difficult to touch her everywhere, but he wanted to try. He wanted to feel her breasts pressing against his chest and know the weight of her body on top of his. Need filled him, making him ache. He was hard and ready, and damn it all to hell if he didn’t have a plane to catch.
“This is crazy,” Liz whispered when he pulled back. “We just met.”
He was pleased to see that her eyes were dilated and her breathing just as fast as his own.
“Some things don’t take very long,” he said. “When they happen fast, they’re usually right.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve never reacted this way. Have you?”
He brushed his mouth against hers. “No. Not even close.”
She shivered. “Hold me. Hold me for as much time as we have left. Please.”
He tugged her close and draped his arm around her shoulders. They talked some, kissed some and mostly watched time slip away. At a little past eight, they walked out to the parking lot and got in his rental car. He headed back to the Children’s Connection parking lot where they’d left her car.
Liz couldn’t believe how sad she felt. She’d only known David a few hours, but it seemed more like a lifetime. The thought of him going away, of never seeing him again, broke her heart.
When he pulled up beside her aging sedan, she turned to him. “Do you really have to go?” she asked softly.
He put the car in Park and faced her. “It’s my job, Liz. I’ve been working for this assignment since the day they hired me.”
She ducked her head. “I know. That was silly. If anyone understands giving it all for a career, it’s me. But I just…”
“Me, too.” He touched her chin, raising her head so she looked at him. “I can’t decide if we should stay in touch or make a clean break.”
“I don’t know, either.”
Her chest tightened until it was difficult to breathe. She wanted him—not just sexually, but in so many other ways. She wanted to learn everything about him. She wanted to meet his family and talk about goals and have dates and fights and make memories. If it wasn’t completely crazy, she would swear she’d fallen for him.
“Take me with you,” she said impulsively. “To Russia.”
He cupped her jaw. “You don’t know how that tempts me, Liz. We could keep each other warm through the long winter.”
It could work, she thought frantically. As a freelance illustrator, she didn’t have to punch a time clock. “I could work from there and send my drawings back to my clients,” she told him. “It would take me a couple of days to wrap things up here but I could—”
He silenced her with a kiss. The sweet pressure of his mouth told her his answer even as she struggled not to believe him. Her eyes began to burn.
“I know, it’s crazy,” she whispered.
“But a great dream.”
A dream. That was what this was. A beautiful, perfect dream that could never be real. Take off for Russia? For a guy? Never. Not that David wasn’t great, but what did she know about him?
Torn between what was sensible and what her heart cried out to claim, Liz opened the passenger door and forced herself to slide out into the night.
“Thank you for a terrific afternoon, David Logan,” she said as she fought tears. “I don’t think it could get better than this. We should probably keep the memory intact and not try to repeat it.”
He
