Real Romance by Ginny Baird Page B

Absolutely it. With the exception of her romance heroes, from this point forward all men were off limits.
    After all she had done to build a life, these—cavemen came along and scattered it to stones. Loving Paul was an innocent mistake, her first wide-eyed romance, so she hardly blamed herself—even at this point—for falling for him.
    By the time she'd met Cecil, she should have known better. At twenty-seven, she wasn't exactly an innocent anymore. But, for all her savvy, she might as well have been Little Red Riding Hood.
    And now, here was David—the man with the irresistible eyes who told such nice lies. First there was that little story about the bike. Environmental awareness—hah! She was sure now it had been a ploy to get her close to his admittedly perfect body.
    And then, all that nonsense about literary fiction and the obviously unread copy of Publishers Weekly.
    For all Marie knew, David probably didn't read anything without a centerfold.
    She pulled herself to a stop at the corner near the familiar display of lights. Books & Bistro's elegant awning stood out among the group of shops that lined the outdoor mall.

     
    David raced through the darkness, wondering where on earth she'd gone. He ran to the corner and frantically called left and right, before deciding to head back to the mall. If she'd gone anywhere, it had to be the bookstore. Her car would be there, at least.
    David crossed the street and picked up speed, his toned thighs swinging into motion.
    What had she been thinking, he asked himself, his head pounding as he ran.
    He maintained his speed, crossing the second street, which, fortunately, was free of traffic. His panic-stricken eyes continued to search side streets.
    What if she'd wandered off? What if she'd gotten lost?
    In Covesville?
    David stopped at the crosswalk, acknowledging the absurdity of the notion. He was gasping for air, leaning forward to catch his breath, when he looked up and saw her disappearing into her car.
    Oh, hell, no!
    David ignored the Don't Walk sign and bolted into traffic, dodging angry drivers as several cars nearly collided, screeching to a halt in the middle of the busy intersection.
    But by the time he got to the parking lot, all that remained of Marie were her tail lights fading in the night.

     

     

 

     
    Chapter Ten

     
    David kicked open the door and entered the optician's shop, scowling.
    "Good morning to you, too," Caroline said from behind the counter. "Good thing my husband Jim likes the same ball teams you do, or you'd be out on your rear."
    David motioned her away and stormed toward the coffeepot.
    "I mean it, David! What if I hadn't been here to lock up last night? Would you have done the wild thing right in the center of the floor with a million"—she gestured to the mirrored walls of frames—"eyes on you?"
    "Don't be cute, Caroline," he said, filling his mug.
    "Oh, so I get it," she said, stepping around the counter and walking over with her own mug. "She blew you off, did she? Got you all hot and bothered, then—"
    "You know," he said, bringing his coffee to his lips, "sometimes you just don't know where to stop."
    "No, David," Caroline said, slamming her mug onto the table. "You don't know where to stop! Has it ever occurred to you that this is a business? That maybe one of our clients could have walked in here with a five-year-old child when you were in the middle of your amorous romp?"
    David dropped his head, knowing she was right. It had been reckless of him, foolish. Different, if he'd had the foresight to draw the blinds and lock the doors...
    "All this talk about Marie!" Caroline shouted walking back into her office and then returning with a book. "Marie, Marie, Marie. But you can't seem to figure out what she wants."
    David brought a hand to his aching head and massaged his brow with his fingers.
    "Here," Caroline said, thumping something hard into his chest. "Sally's better now, so take the day off. Do some serious