Dear Readers - Kristin and I love you. We really do. And we appreciate your reading and reviewing. It fuels us like none other. Before you read this...I must tell you two things. Kristin and I write by two principles. One - Feck Expectations and Two - We will go to a Special Hell. Consider this exhibit A in why we live up to our principles. Don't say we never shocked you!
-Beth
"He wanted you to be proud of him. I have to believe that's why he married me. He thought if he settled down, you'd quit worrying that he was going to turn into your father."
"And he turned into him anyway." Patrick shook his head.
"The only difference is, losing me isn't what led him to drink. He felt like he had failed you by not making our marriage last."
Patrick ran a hand through his hair, turning his back to her. "I've hated you for such a long time." He told her.
"Do you still?" Robin whispered.
Patrick sucked in a breath, not sure if answering would cause lightning to strike him dead in the middle of his studio. How long had he expected to hold onto this hatred? Why had he given it enough power to affect his relationship with his family and friends? Surely this woman in front of him was not to blame entirely for his little brother's bad choices. How was he just supposed to let go? Robin's eyes glistened with tears and he realized, with startling clarity, that she assumed the worst. He had to say something and soon.
"Don't answer that." Robin advised him, holding up her right hand to silence him. "I shouldn't have asked it."
"Robin--" Patrick began.
"No, just don't say anything. He's your brother. I have to quit putting you in the middle. Of course your loyalty will always lie with him." She bobbed her head slowly and darted her eyes to the door.
"I didn't--" Patrick tried again. Why couldn't he just say the words? It was obvious that she needed to hear them! Why was he such a coward?
It was Robin's quick retreat in the direction of the door that gave him that extra incentive to leap toward her and hold her right wrist in his left hand. Her eyes were slow to reach his. He could feel her shaking in her skin as he started to draw her closer. Maybe they didn't need words after all.
His fingers clung to her wrist and she slowly moved into his waiting arms, not wanting to pretend any longer. If she breathed at all, she wasn't aware. In his embrace, she would be safe. She sensed it somehow.
The years of simmering anger melted away as desire enveloped them in a hot, uninhibited Utopia. Breaths mingled in anticipation. Patrick released her wrist and slid his arms around her waist, tempting her to let go and trust him.
"I'm feeling awfully neglected up here." Standing atop the stairs was Patrick's newest conquest, Candice Hughes. She had thick, curly red hair, emerald-green eyes, and a body that had been bought and paid for in full.
Robin jerked out of Patrick's grasp. "What am I even doing here?"
"It's not--" Patrick insisted.
"What is it then? Were you going to tell me you had company?" Robin challenged.
"Before or after you stormed into my studio and attacked me for the second time?" Patrick shot back.
"I knew this would happen. I guess it's just lucky for me I got out in time." Robin backpedaled until her body was pressed against the door.
Patrick had seen the look far too often, but never from her. He had screwed up royally, and the next time she let him this close to her, would be at her funeral. "Yeah, lucky for you." He snapped, motioning for her to storm out as he had been expecting from the get-go.
Robin spun around so fast she should have gotten whiplash, a lump in her throat the size of a golf ball. She was far too numb to cry. Patrick didn't come after her, didn't even call her name, but then why would he? She wasn't anything special.
Cruz gave himself one last glance in his bathroom mirror. His white dress shirt was freshly ironed, crisply tucked into his dark blue jeans. He had opted to not wear a tie, instead leaving the top two buttons open. His black shoes were shined. He went into his small bedroom and picked his black sport coat off the dark green comforter on his bed, throwing it over his shoulders with ease.
Walking downstairs, he paused at his small bar, selecting one of his favorite wines. Only the best for his girl, he thought. She deserved the best.
Cruz tucked the bottle under his right arm, leaving the townhouse to start his Ford Expedition. Pulling out of the small garage, he carefully turned his vehicle in the direction of his favorite florist. Tonight he was going to do everything up right.
Five months ago, he had called on a whim, asking her out to dinner with him. To be honest, Cruz hadn't expected her to even say yes. And on the off chance she had said yes, he hadn't expected her to see him as anything as what she had always seen him. A nice guy. An ambitious magazine editor. A casual acquaintance.
When she had in fact said yes, Cruz had dropped the phone in his office and accidentally hung up on her. His face in flames, he called her back immediately. Her laughter had immediately put him at ease, as had her suggestion that they meet at her place and she cook him dinner. He quickly countered with an offer to cook her dinner at his place, which she had accepted.
The dinner wasn't meant to be anything romantic. Hell he hadn't even really figured out what exactly he was feeling for her. She had been in the background of his life for years and Cruz hadn't even given her a second thought for most of that time. Why after one interview, he suddenly found himself fixating on her was beyond him.
It hadn't even been his piece to start with. One of his writers, who left shortly after it had been published, had left out key information about her business. Tired of having a half-ass job completed, Cruz had decided to do the follow up interview himself. It was the only way he knew he would get the information.
The interview was his most memorable one. Not only because it led to the start of their relationship, but also it was just that good. The conversation had flown freely and Cruz found himself with even more information than he needed. She later told him it was the mark of what a good writer he was. He swore it was because she was such a great conversationalist. They had started talking about her business, but quickly moved to talk of music, movies and books. What was supposed to be a twenty minute follow up interview had blossomed into a three hour conversation. They met at a small restaurant during the lunch rest and left just before the dinner crowd appeared.
When she had come to his townhouse three days later, the conversation continued just as easily. They had polished off a bottle of wine and Cruz had been shocked when he realized it was past midnight. He had insisted she stay in his spare bedroom, saying it was far too late and they both had drunk far too much for either one to drive.
She had left in the morning before he got up, leaving him a note thanking him for dinner. Cruz had found himself wondering about her the rest of the day, what she was doing, what she had planned, was she thinking of him. The thoughts plagued him throughout the weekend. Patrick and Lucky had even noticed his preoccupation during a pick up game of basketball at the gym. And even though his story about work sounded lame to his ears, his friends believed him. There was no way they would have been as nice had he told them the truth.
When he had gotten to work that Monday, the first thing he noticed in his inbox was an email from her. Cruz was rather embarrassed to admit how quickly he had responded to her email. But when she responded just as quickly, he felt marginally better. If anyone were to ask him what work he accomplished that day, the answer would be none. While he looked busy, he had actually spent the entire day engaged in an online flirting session.
It has been a mental attraction at first, a respect for her mind and enjoyment of her quick wit. The physical attraction hadn't made itself known until the next weekend, when he found himself staring at the length of her legs in short dress and the curve of her backside as she opened the door to the oven in her kitchen. When they met the following weekend at a small restaurant just outside of town, Cruz was determined to kiss her before the night was over.
He made his move on the walk through the parking lot towards his car. When he paused to open her door, she turned her head slightly to thank him and he quickly pressed his lips to hers. The kiss had turned electric as she responded immediately. Had another car not chosen that moment to turn into the parking lot blinding them, he wondered how much more would have occurred. Brief as it was, that first kiss was one of the hottest he had ever had. That night when she invited him for a drink, he accepted immediately. And when she suggested he stay over, he hadn't slept in the guest room.
It was a mutual decision to keep their relationship quiet. For one thing, she had a personal policy of not telling her family anyone she was dating until she was certain it was serious. And he was in no way ready to tell his friends about his new girlfriend. Cruz knew Patrick had suspicions. Lucky probably would too if he wasn't working so much. He had been avoiding joining them for family dinners because he was certain Laura would notice something immediately. Laura Spencer has an uncanny knack for knowing exactly when someone was in a relationship and when exactly someone was in love.
He paused at the florist to pick up her favorite flowers, sterling roses. They were rare and expensive as hell but she deserved more. He still had to make up to her his earlier communication with both Lucky and Patrick so near by. The bouquet was waiting when he arrived, since he had ordered it a few days earlier.
Returning to his car and pointing towards her house, he mused on the changes in his life since she had entered it. Cruz used to be worse than Patrick with going out every night of the week. Now he really on went out for Guy's Night and with her. He still flirted constantly, but there was no meaning behind it. And she never minded when he did. Remembering what she said the first time he had flirted with her nearby still caused him a smile.
"You can flirt with whoever you want honey. But you only come home with me."
He was amazed that he was still with the same woman after five months. Not to say Cruz had a series of one-night stands. Far from it. But he normally couldn't make it pass the second month. Once he made it to three. After that one broke up, he found out Patrick and Lucky had started betting on its demise the day after he passes the two month mark. With a bet of three days past the third month anniversary, Lucky had won. Patrick had shot him dirty looks for a solid month whenever he had to do Lucky's laundry.
He pulled into her driveway, killing the lights on his car. He did a final check in the rearview mirror. He grabbed the roses and wine and whistling, walked up the front steps to the door, ringing the bell. It was their tradition, to celebrate their anniversary by staying in and making each other dinner. That was the plan, but they always seemed to get distracted before they finished the meal. Not that he minded. The distractions were always pleasurable.
His breath caught in his throat when she opened the door. Her slim body was shown to perfection in the lavender sleeveless dress that stopped just below her knees. She stood barefoot, her toes painted a bright red, matching her nails. "Damn baby, you look gorgeous."
She smiled that smile that made his knees buckle and took the flowers from his outstretched hand and buried her nose in the blooms. "Oh Cruz. You didn't need to do this."
"Think of it as an apology for my little stunt."
She threw her head back and laugh. Everything she did, she did fully and wholeheartedly. "Oh don't think you are getting out of anything with these, gorgeous as they may be."
"They're nothing compared to you." He moved to kiss her cheek.
"You can do better than that." She pulled him by the lapel of his coat into her entryway, shutting the door firmly behind them. She twisted them so she had her back against the door and his hands were balanced just above her shoulders.
Cruz smiled and lowered his head to fully capture her lips. It was a teasing kiss, full of promises for the night ahead.
When they parted, he rested his head on her forehead and winked at her. "Hello Bobbie."