Page 21 of Romance and Peppermint Lattes
Maryanne wasn’t sure she understood. She stared up at him, intrigued by the emotion she saw in his intense brown eyes.
“Why the hell should it matter if you live next door to me or in The Seattle?” he exclaimed. “My serenity was shot the minute I laid eyes on you.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, surprised when her voice came out a raspy whisper. She continued to look up at him, trying to read his expression.
“You don’t have a clue, do you?” he whispered. His fingers found their way into her hair as he lowered his mouth with heart-stopping slowness toward hers. “Heaven keep me from redheaded innocents.”
But heaven apparently didn’t receive the message, because even as he whispered the words Nolan’s arms were pulling her toward him. With a sigh of regret—or was it pleasure?—his mouth settled over hers. His kiss was light and undemanding, and despite her anger, despite his words, Maryanne felt herself melting.
With a soft sigh, she flattened her hands on his chest and slid them up to link behind his neck. She leaned against him, letting his strength support her, letting his warmth comfort her.
He pulled her even closer, wrapped his arms around her waist and half lifted her from the pier. Maryanne heard a low hungry moan; she wasn’t sure if it came from Nolan or from her.
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except this wonderful feeling of being cherished and loved and protected.
Over the years, Maryanne had been kissed by her share of men. She’d found the experience pleasant, but no one had ever set her on fire the way Nolan did now.
“See what I mean,” he whispered unsteadily. “We’re in trouble here. Big trouble.”
ChapterFour
Maryanne stood in the doorway of her new apartment, the key held tightly in her hand. She was embarking on her grand adventure, but now that she’d actually moved out of The Seattle her confidence was a bit shaky.
Carol joined her, huffing and puffing as she staggered the last few steps down the narrow hallway. She sagged against the wall, panting to catch her breath.
“This place doesn’t have an elevator?” she demanded, when she could speak.
“It’s being repaired.”
“That’s what they always say.”
Maryanne nodded, barely hearing her friend. Her heart in her throat, she inserted the key and turned the lock. The door stuck, so she used the force of one hip to dislodge it. The apartment was just as she remembered: worn hardwood floors, the bulky faded furniture, the kitchen appliances that would soon be valuable antiques. But Maryanne saw none of that.
This was her new life.
She walked directly to the window and gazed out. “I’ve got a great view of Volunteer Park,” she announced to her friend.She hadn’t noticed it the day Nolan had shown her the apartment. “I had no idea the park was so close.” She turned toward Carol, who was still standing in the threshold, her expression one of shock and dismay. “What’s wrong?”
“Good heavens,” Carol whispered. “You don’t really intend to live here, do you?”
“It isn’t so bad,” Maryanne said with a smile, glancing around to be sure she hadn’t missed anything. “I’ve got lots of ideas on how to decorate the place.” She leaned back against the windowsill, where much of the dingy beige paint was chipped away to reveal an even dingier grey-green. “What it needs is a fresh coat of paint, something light and cheerful.”
“It’s not even half the size of your other place.”
“There was a lot of wasted space at my apartment.” That might be true, Maryanne thought privately, but she wouldn’t have minded bringing some of it with her.
“What about your neighbor?” Carol asked in a grudging voice. “He’s the one who started this. The least he could do is offer a little help.”
Straightening, Maryanne brushed the dust from her palms and looked away. “I didn’t ask him to. I don’t think he even knows when I was planning to move in.”
Nolan was a subject Maryanne wanted to avoid. She hadn’t talked to him since the night he’d followed her to the waterfront... the night he’d kissed her. He’d stopped off at The Seattle to leave the apartment key and a rental agreement with the doorman. Max had promptly delivered both. The implication was obvious; Nolan didn’t want to see her and was, in fact, doing his best to avoid her.
Clearly he disapproved of the way things had developed on the pier that night. She supposed he didn’t like kissing her. Then again, perhaps he did. Perhaps he liked it too much for his oft-lamented “peace of mind.”
Maryanne knew howshefelt about it. She couldn’t sleep for two nights afterward. Every time she closed her eyes, the image of Nolan holding her in his arms danced through her mind like a waltzing couple from a 1940s movie. She remembered the way he’d scowled down at her when he’d broken off the kiss and how he’d struggled to make light of the incident. And she remembered his eyes, so warm and gentle, telling her another story.
“Hey, lady, is this the place where I’m supposed to bring the boxes?” A lanky boy of about fourteen stood in the doorway, carrying a large cardboard box.
“Y-yes,” Maryanne said, recognizing the container as one of her own. “How’d you know to bring it up here?”
