Eden's Dream by Marcia King-Gamble Page A

week. Right now I’m contemplating going into Seattle.”
    â€œOh? Any place special?”
    Actually the thought had just entered her mind. “The public library,” she called.
    Noel pushed his cap to the back of his head and leaned over the railing. “When are you planning on leaving?”
    â€œMid-morning, after the traffic dies down.”
    â€œI’ll come with you.”
    â€œWhat about your wor…”
    He wiggled his fingers and disappeared inside.
    Eden had just slipped on black leggings and an oversized cotton shirt when Noel rapped on her door. She tied a red bandanna around her neck, patted her hair in place, and hurried to answer.
    Through the glass door she spotted him, denim jacket hanging from his index finger, Kahlua held in the crook of his arm. Lately, the fickle beast spent more time at his place than hers. Eden slid the door open and let them both in. She did her best to keep a blank face, though her pulse raced. She focused her attention on Kahlua, scratching the tip of the cat’s ear. “Hello, Judas. Am I to assume you’ve already been fed?”
    â€œTwo cans of Nine Lives, plus dry food,” Noel proudly supplied.
    â€œTell me you didn’t.” Eden sighed, accepting Kahlua and Noel’s fleeting kiss.
    â€œDid I do something wrong? She seemed really hungry. She ate every bit.”
    Over Kahlua’s body, their eyes met and held. Noel’s held a flicker of an emotion she didn’t dare acknowledge. The butterflies in her stomach beat a wild tattoo. She lowered her gaze to the open collar of the Tommy Bahama shirt where a suggestion of chest hairs was visible and caught her breath. She wanted to rest her head against his chest, tangle her fingers in those hairs, and let her tongue explore the hollow of his neck.
    Noel broke the hypnotic spell. “Who’s driving?” he asked.
    â€œMe. The jeep’s more comfortable.”
    â€œGood point. But the Land Rover’s faster.”
    Eden jiggled her car keys at him. “Humor me. I’m the one who wanted to go.”
    On the way into Seattle, Eden hugged the left lane of Interstate 90. A white Buick Riviera followed.
    â€œDo you always drive this fast?” Noel’s hands splayed across the dashboard bracing himself as bits of gorgeous scenery literally whizzed by.
    Eden switched lanes, settling for a more central position. So did the Buick. “Is that better?”
    â€œYou’re good,” he acknowledged, patting her knee. “The proverbial truck driver and certainly much better than I am.” Even as he begrudgingly paid her the backhanded compliment, his head moved from side to side, checking the traffic.
    Eden accelerated. The speedometer shot past seventy. “You sound surprised.”
    â€œI am. Aren’t most New Yorkers weekend drivers? Don’t they depend on the subway to get around?”
    How did he know so much about New Yorkers? He’d once admitted to being from the other coast. Could he possibly be from New York? Eden kept her voice neutral. “I’m hardly a weekend driver. I keep erratic hours, live in Manhattan and work in Queens. Waiting on some isolated corner or in a smelly subway is the last thing I want to do.”
    â€œCan’t say I blame you.” Noel stretched denim-clad legs. He laid an arm across the back of her seat, his fingers expertly kneading the nape of her neck. It took everything she had to concentrate on the road ahead. Eden flashed him one of her more dazzling smiles and plunged on. “You never quite said exactly where you were from.”
    Noel’s fingers tangled her hair, massaging her scalp. I thought I’d told you.”
    â€œNo, you didn’t.”
    A beat too long. “I was born in Baltimore.”
    Ah,” she said. “Then I take it you’ve been to New York at least once.”
    â€œWhy would you say that?” He pointed in the direction of a