Twenty Wishes (Blossom Street #5)

Twenty Wishes (Blossom Street #5) Page 39

“Let me guess.” He pressed his index finger to his lips. “First, you have one hell of a temper.”

She laughed outright at that. “How kind of you to remind me.”

“What I’m trying to say,” he continued, “is that this relationship is doomed. You apparently get some kind of emotional kick out of flirting with me, and that’s fine. It’s good for the ego, and mine’s been in the gutter so long that this is a refreshing change. But I’m not a fool. A woman like you can have any man she wants.”

“Mark, I—”

“I don’t mean to be rude here. However—”

“Why not? It hasn’t stopped you in the past.”

He grinned. “True. Just let me finish, okay?”

She motioned with her hand. “Be my guest.”

“This is the way I figure it. For reasons beyond my comprehension, you’re attracted to me.”

“Is it a one-way attraction?” For the sake of her own ego, she needed to find out. “Answer this one question and I promise I won’t interrupt you again.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You already know. You pretty much turn me inside out every time I see you.”

Barbie clasped her hands, still clutching the bag of popcorn. “Do I really?”

“Barbie, please, you’re making this difficult.”

“Okay, sorry.” But her heart was leaping with joy.

“Listen, for whatever reason, you feel safe with me. I’m not a threat to you. I don’t know what went on in your marriage, and frankly, I don’t want to know. Whatever happened then or since has really rattled you. So a guy in a wheelchair’s a safe bet. Fine. The truth is, I can’t seem to forget you and I’m tired of fighting my attraction to you.”

“For your information, I had a very good marriage.” Barbie wasn’t sure where all this talk was leading. “I think you’re looking for an excuse to avoid a relationship with me.”

“Listen,” he said again, exhaling slowly.

“You’re ignoring what I just said.”

For the first time he glanced in her direction. As soon as he did, his eyes softened. “Okay. For now I’m willing to do things your way.”

“For now?” She wasn’t sure what that meant either. “Could you explain that?”

He sighed loudly. “We play this by ear. When you want out, you get out. Don’t prolong it. Do me a favor and just leave, okay?”

Barbie had to think for a moment. “What about you?”

“If I want out, then I need you to respect my wishes in the same way that I intend to respect yours.”

That sounded fair. Still, she hated the idea of planning their breakup. “Can’t we just take this one day at a time?”

He didn’t respond.

“One date at a time?” she said and then leaned over and kissed his ear, running the tip of her tongue over the smooth contours and nibbling on his lobe. “One kiss at a time?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice husky with desire. “I told you earlier—you turn me inside out.”

The theater darkened, and the previews started. Barbie put her popcorn and soda on the floor at her feet. To her surprise and delight, Mark reached for her hand and entwined their fingers. She leaned closer and a few minutes into the movie, rested her head on his shoulder.

Mark snickered softly. “Like I said, it’s high school all over again.”

“I don’t care if it is or not.”

In response, he raised their clasped hands to his lips and kissed the back of her hand. A chill of pleasure slid down her spine.

At the end of the movie, she walked next to his wheelchair as they left the theater. She half expected him to ask her out for coffee. The movie might be over, but that didn’t mean their evening had to be. When he didn’t suggest it, she did.

“I can’t tonight.” He didn’t offer an excuse.

“Perhaps another night, then.” She did her best to hide her disappointment.

“Perhaps.”

“Will you call me?” she asked.

“When?” He didn’t seem pleased by the prospect.

“Tonight before you go to sleep.”

He frowned. “Barbie.”

“It’s a simple request. If you can do it, fine. If not…if not, I’ll lie awake all night wondering why you didn’t phone.”

“Just like high school.”

“Yes.” She wasn’t about to deny it.

He muttered something she couldn’t quite decipher and from the gruffness of his voice, she figured she was better off not knowing. “Give me your phone number,” he growled.

“Thank you.” Reaching inside her purse for a pen and pad, she wrote out her home number and tore off the sheet.

Mark crumpled it and stuffed it in his shirt pocket. “If you’re loitering here because you expect me to kiss you, don’t. I never kiss in public.”

She didn’t remind him that he’d kissed her at the pool and at the theater. “Want to go someplace private, then?”

He shook his head. “I’ll take a rain check on that.”

“Okay.” What she’d learned from their brief conversation before the movie was that Mark was as terrified as she was. He didn’t want to be attracted to her. He’d rather chase her away, only he hadn’t succeeded in that. Yes, he desired her, but he wouldn’t risk any kind of dependence on her. Insofar as he was willing to get involved, he wasn’t letting her any too close. She had a mental image of a heavily armed guard standing watch over his heart.

Several hours later, Barbie lay on her bed, waiting for Mark’s call. It was almost eleven before the phone finally rang.

“Hello, Mark.”

“Hi.” His voice was impatient. “I phoned like you asked me to. Now what is it you want to know?”

She hadn’t actually thought the call required a purpose. “What are you wearing?”

“I’m on to your game! You’re asking me that because you want me to ask you the same question.”

“I’m wearing an ivory silk gown.”

“Short?”

“No, full-length. What about you?”

“I’m not saying,” he muttered. “I don’t understand the point of this, and I’m not interested in silly games.”

“I want you to want me,” she said. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” She heard him snort disbelievingly. “You don’t need to work nearly this hard.”

“That’s very sweet.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Mark,” she whispered, nearly purring his name. “Loosen up. We hardly know each other. I thought we could use this time to talk, to get acquainted.”

He didn’t say anything for maybe ten seconds, although it felt more like ten minutes. “What do you want to know?” he asked again.

“What do you do?” She already knew, but wanted him to tell her, anyway.

“I’m an architect.” He didn’t elaborate or describe any of the buildings he’d designed. Nor did he say where he worked or where he’d gone to school or anything else regarding his professional life. Barbie was beginning to understand him. The less he revealed about himself, the less likely she was to hurt him.

“I have twin sons,” she said, moving the conversation into more personal realms.

“Identical?”

“Yes. My husband was killed in a plane crash three years ago.”

“I know. You aren’t the only one who uses the Internet. Both your husband and your father worked for a huge perfume conglomerate. You never said anything about that.”

“Why should I? Mom and I don’t really have anything to do with the company.”

“You do smell good most of the time.”

“Most of the time?” she flared.

“Chlorine isn’t one of your better scents.”

“I’ll have you know you’re the only man in the world who could get me into a public swimming pool. I live in mortal fear that my hair’s going to turn green in that overchlorinated water and it’ll be entirely your fault.”

“Then don’t come.”

“Uh-huh. And miss getting splashed by you? It’s the highlight of my week!”

He laughed, and in her mind she saw the mercenary who stood guard over his feelings lay down one weapon in his arsenal.

They spoke for two hours. Before they said good-night, Mark admitted he’d been in bed a full thirty minutes before he phoned. He wouldn’t have called at all, he said, if not for the fact that he couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, the thought of her waiting in bed taunted him until he couldn’t tolerate it anymore.

On Thursday afternoon, after her belly dancing class, Barbie met her mother for lunch. Lillie had already arrived at the upscale hotel restaurant and was reviewing the menu when Barbie joined her. Lillie did an immediate double take.

“My goodness, you look wonderful! I know it’s a cliché, but you’re positively glowing.”

“It’s just sweat. This belly dancing is hard work.”

“No, it’s more.” Lillie set the menu aside. “Is it that…man?”

“His name is Mark and yes, now that you mention it, he and I have been talking.”

“You really like him, don’t you?”

Barbie was crazy about him, but she wasn’t ready to let her mother know that. She didn’t want to ruin their lunch; so far, Lillie had been accepting of the situation and Barbie wanted it to stay that way.

“I didn’t come to talk about Mark. I want to know how things are developing between you and Mr. Silva.”

Lillie smiled, her eyes warm. “If I tell you something, you have to promise not to laugh.”

“Mom, I won’t laugh.”

“We’ve been bowling twice in the last week.”

“Bowling?”

“I’m good at it.”

“My mother’s a bowler. I’m calling Jerry Springer,” Barbie teased.

“Oh, stop it,” Lillie said and blushed.

“All you do is bowl?”

“Oh, heavens, no. We’ve gone for long walks and we attended a lecture at the Seattle Art Museum and signed up for a Chinese cooking class.”

“What I mean is, has he kissed you?”

Lillie lowered her eyes. “Yes. We might be over sixty, but we aren’t dead.”

“That’s for sure.” In fact, her mother looked more alive than she had in years. “I think this is great!”

“What about you and Mark?”

There wasn’t much to tell. “We’ve talked for the past three nights.” Mark had confessed he generally didn’t enjoy chatting on the phone. Still, they’d talked nearly two hours every time. Gradually, he was opening up to her and he became as engrossed in their conversations as she did.

When Barbie returned from lunch that afternoon, a large floral arrangement had been delivered. “Who sent the flowers?” she asked.