Page 40 of Forbidden Desires

Fall was starting to settle in, and it was in that slightly cooler weather that I found myself more inclined to walk places. Granted, Florida seasons were nearly non-existent, but there was something that shifted in the air from the oppressive humid heat, mingling with the few fallen leaves from the trees that made café runs on foot far more enjoyable a task than they were in mid-summer.

Grabbing a coffee, I headed toward my office with earphones in my ears to block out the hustle and bustle of the early morning commuters who had the same idea that I did about getting out and about. I had a meeting later, but a few hours to myself that weren’t beholden to business.

It was that lack of commitment to a task that had me strolling along at a slower pace than normal and noticing a familiar face in the window of an art café.Jasmine.It was surprising to seeher on this side of Coral Gables, though in the venue itself, less surprising.

I came to a stop, contemplating whether or not to stop in and say hello. We had no engagements on the books until that weekend, and even though we’d worked through that first roadblock between us and things had returned to normal, I was still very careful not to contact her outside of contractual business dates that yes, most of the time led to pleasure.

This situation was different. She was here in her free time, in a casual setting, and that was something I didn’t want to encroach upon. Certain boundaries with Jasmine were still important to me and helped keep my emotions in check when it came to her because I’d realized just how much this woman affected me. Andthosekinds of messy emotions were something I couldn’t afford to indulge in. For my own sake, as much as hers, because the reality of our situation was not conducive toromanticentanglements.

But despite knowing I ought to keep walking by and let her be, I entered the café before I could change my mind or question my motives—which were more than a little selfish because I genuinely enjoyed being around her. And really, what was the harm in saying hello?

Rather than typical café tables, there were individual or small group placements that had an easel, small container for supplies, and a mat for drinks and food bought from the adjoining café. All around, there were people painting, drawing, creating. Lo-fi music played on overhead speakers and the soft hum of conversation between the people sitting together made for a cozy, inspiring atmosphere.

I approached Jasmine where she sat, leaned over a medium-sized canvas propped up with an easel, with a thin paintbrush in her hand. She was wearing a soft pink t-shirt and faded jeans, and her hair was piled on the top of her head and held therewith a clip. She looked young, every bit of her twenty-four years—another obstacle between us that wasn’t lost on me when I considered that we were both at such different stages in our lives. Hers was just starting out, really, and mine…well, I was set in my ways and wasn’t in the position of offering someone like her the things she’d eventually want. Like marriage. And a family.

Eventually our arrangement would end, and eventually she’d find someone far more suited to making her happy.

That realization tightened my chest with what felt like regret, and I valiantly pushed that unwanted thought from my mind as I continued toward her table. For now, she was mine—even if only on occasion—and that was all that mattered to me.

Her tongue stuck out between her teeth, a cute expression on her face that told me she was lost in thought, but enjoying what she was concentrating on. It put a smile on my face as I lightly drummed my fingers against the surface of her table.

“Room for another?” I asked, chuckling at the slight jump that she gave as I broke her out of her reprieve.

“Eric!” She pressed a hand to her chest, her eyes wide with surprise. “You scared the shit out of me! You’re lucky I don’t put paint on your face.” She waggled the paintbrush up at me.

Considering the lack of malice in her voice, I highly doubted that she would.

I smirked, taking a chair and sitting down across from her at her little table. She moved supplies out of the way, a hodgepodge collection of brushes, inking pens, pencils, and an extra notebook. There was a pleased flush on her face, the kind of coloring that begged to be reached out to and touched with tender fingers.

I managed to keep my hands to myself.

“So, this is where you’re finding yourself on your days off?” I asked in a wry tone, before taking a sip of my coffee.

“First time I’ve come here, actually,” she said, somewhat sheepishly. “I’ve passed by a few times, but never came in. I’ve been inspired lately, and I figured, might as well give it a shot at some point.” She shifted self-consciously in her seat. “I’ve uh…I’ve started painting again, and I’m glad I found some place outside of the apartment to do things. You know. Getting fresh air. Mingling with the public without having to actually mingle with the public.”

I chuckled. “An introvert tendency for someone who actually likes socializing.”

She made a face at me. “I like socializing, but when it comes to art, I like being totally in the zone without distractions,” she explained.

I inclined my head. “I hope I’m not distracting you by stopping in to say hello?”

A slight flush swept across her cheeks. “No, not at all. I don’t know what you have going on for the day, but you’re welcome to stay.”

I knew I ought to leave, but I found myself saying, “I can stay, for a while.”

Her smile was effervescent, hidden in seconds with the way she ducked her head, as though I wasn’t supposed to see the excitement on her face. I chuckled again and pulled out my phone. While I was here, I could do a little bit of work and answer some emails.

She returned to her canvas, and I found myself casting surreptitious glances at her, enjoying how she immersed herself in whatever she was creating on the easel in front of her. The expressions on her face were adorable, ranging from serious, to animated, to joyful as she tipped her head to one side, then another, as she studied the paint strokes she’d made. I decided, as we sat there together quietly, that I didn’t reallyneed to answer emails. Not when my mind drifted in a different direction.

Pulling up the internet on my phone, I eyed her space, taking in her supplies while doing some searches on art sites. Hand-crafted brushes, custom mixed paints, canvases and papers and mixed media supplies…I may have, in the course of the hour that I sat there with her, gone overboard, but there was no such thing when it came to helping someone pursue the things that made them happy.

And right now, there was nothing but pure happiness on Jasmine’s face. I wanted to give her more of that.

When it was time to leave, Jasmine was still deep in her painting. She would likely be there for a while. I was tempted to rearrange my schedule and stay as long as she did, just for the sheer pleasure of it, but I had already taken as much time as I could spare out of my day.

I gathered my things, standing. She looked up at me, a flicker of disappointment in her eyes before it was whisked away. The expression settled a strange, regretful pang in the back of my mind, and before she could say or do anything else, I leaned down and pressed my mouth to hers, uncaring that anyone in the café might see.

The kiss was soft, ephemeral, but it was sweet in a way that made me groan quietly before pulling away. The soft yearning in her eyes reflected the sudden, rapid beat of my heart, and I knew that despite all my good intentions to maintain a professional relationship with her, I was starting to fail spectacularly.

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