Real Romance by Ginny Baird

have gone out without a coat."
    Maybe not. But in his hurry to rush past Caroline, picking up his belongings had been the last thing on his mind.
    "I'll be all right," he said, flipping on the heater. "At least until my boss catches up with me."
    "What about your boss?" Marie asked, as they pulled away from the curb and headed towards campus. "Do you think she'll really let you go?"
    "I doubt it." David eyed the digital car clock. "Look, it's almost six anyway. Caroline can just as easily close the shop as I can."
    "Yeah, but how do you know that—after today—she won't change the locks?"
    David chuckled. "Well, you can be sure she'll be mad at first. Caroline has a temper. But after a while, and especially after she's talked to Jim, she'll calm down and forgive me."
    "Jim?" Marie asked, relieved to at last be able to unbutton her sweltering coat.
    "Caroline's husband. A true romantic."
    "Really?"
    "Sure. He's a screenwriter."
    "No kidding?" She wriggled her arms out of her coat one at a time. "What does he write?"
    "Romantic comedy, of course." David flashed a big smile. "We could sure give him a few pointers."
    Marie adjusted her glasses, hoping he was joking.
    "Hey," David said, patting her arm. "Don't look so worried. I'm only kidding!"
    She let out a soft breath, then sat bolt upright.
    "Oh my gosh, David," she said, bringing her hands to her face, "I left my book in there."
    "Silence In The Trees? Hey, don't worry about it. I'll just pick it up tomorrow."
    "Not your book, mine!"
    "Well, what's the big deal? I can bring it to you."
    The big deal, the very big deal, was that the book Marie'd left at the optician's shop was Check It Out, a romance about a small town librarian who, thanks to the local physician, happily finds the cure for all her libidinal ills.
    "Besides," David said, laying a firm hand on her thigh. "Something tells me that—this evening—neither of us is going to have much time for reading."

     
    "David," Marie said, as he stood fumbling with his key at the door to his upstairs apartment. "I think we might be taking this a little fast."
    Fast? Oh, no. David could practically hear the mental brakes grinding to a halt.
    "We can take it at any speed you want," he said, his key finally engaging in the lock. He looked at her reassuringly.
    "Listen, Marie, I'm not the kind who's going to pressure you into anything, if that's what you're afraid of."
    She shivered a little. David pressuring her was not the trouble. It was the way that she couldn't seem to keep her hands off of him that had her worried.
    Against her better judgment, Marie nodded and stepped into the lion's lair. A quick image of him on all fours on the floor of Books & Bistro burned through her mind, and she shivered again.
    "Nice place," she said, looking around at the living area, sparsely furnished with odds and ends. It was all one room, with a galley kitchen at the far end. Marie looked at the large platform bed in the corner, then looked quickly back to David.
    "Not much furniture. Mostly Grandma's attic, if you know what I mean. But I make do."
    He grinned and she felt all hot and cold at the same time.
    "Here," he said, lifting the coat she had lightly draped over her shoulders when she'd exited the car, "let me hang this up for you."
    David reached over and hooked her coat on a rack by the front door, then took her by the arm.
    "Come on," he said, his voice as smooth as whiskey, "let me show you around."
    "There's more?" she asked, catching her breath as his hand slid down her sweatered arm and felt for her palm.
    Marie tugged at the front of her dress, suffocating in its ribbed tightness.
    "If you're getting too warm..." David said, looking down at her in a way that seemed to stop time.
    She counted the heartbeats drumming loudly in her ear. When she got to three, David reached up and brought his free hand to her face.
    Her heart raced past four, and, before she knew it, she was pressing seven. If she got to ten, something told her,