Angel-chan: Okay I'm like so, so, so, so, so sorry to have taken so long with this chapter usually it doesn't take me that long to type the chapter.
Ikuto: THEN WHY THE HELL DID YOU TAKE LONG!
Angel-chan: Well because I had mid-terms this week and one of my professors was being as bitch saying that out outline for out power point mid-term were crap and that we didn't know how to make one when she didn't even tell us what the hell she wanted on the dam outline like most professors would. But whatever it's over and all I have to worry about now is my English mid-term.
Amu: Gambare *smiles* Angel-chan
Angel-chan: *teary/smiles* thank you Amu-chan.
Ikuto: Fine I forgive you…
Angel-chan: *smacks Ikuto upside the head* you idiot like I wanted your forgiveness. It's not like I own you an apologize for me being busy with College.
Ikuto: OW! What the hell! Yes you do!
Angel-chan: No I don't and if you keep going with this I'll just change the pairing and make Amu go back with Tadase or better yet I'll make a new guy that's way hotter than you and have her fall in love with him better. *smirks*
Ikuto: *eyes widen* NO! Okay, okay you will
Angel-chan: *smiles* good now then Amu would you please.
Amu: *sweat drop* Sure…xXxStrawberryAngelxXx does not own Shugo Chara! Or Chocolate Kisses.
Angel-chan: Enjoy *smiles*
Chapter 4
11:15 a.m.
"What a pleasure! Come in, come in!" Standing in the open front doorway, Ikuto's mother clasped her hand together and beamed at Amu.
She had never met Mrs. Tsukiyomi before, although she had certainly heard enough about her. The Seiyo weekly newspaper ran a story about her in practically every edition. But the photographs did not do her justice. Like her son and daughter, she was handsome, with strong, decisive features and piercing purple eyes. She had an easy smile and a down-to-earth manner that Amu found refreshing after her encounter with Angel.
"I'm Afraid I can't stay," she demurred. "I'm just here to drop off Ikuto and his bicycle." After introducing Amu and handing his mother the basket of cookies, he had returned to the parking lot to unload his bike from the rear of the van.
"Nonsense." Mrs. Tsukiyomi took Amu's arm and practically dragged her into the townhouse in one of Seiyo's pricier condominium complexes.
The living room was small, decorated with spare, tasteful pieces with Amu knew must have cost a fortune. Fresh flowers stood in vases in the foyer and on the polished coffee table. The place looked warm and inviting, elegant yet lacking the autocratic starchiness of Tsukiyomi Hall.
"Now," said Mrs. Tsukiyomi, gleefully eyeing her reluctant guest, "let me fix some tea and then we'll have some of these scrumptious-looking cookies."
"Mrs. Tsukiyomi—"
"I want to know all about you," Mrs. Tsukiyomi continued, waltzing into the kitchen with the basket. "Ikuto never introduced me to his girlfriends. This must mean something."
"I'm not his girlfriend," Amu corrected her, following her down the hall to a cozy, sunny kitchen. "I'm a caterer. Mrs. Moon hired me to do the food for the Valentine's Day cotillion tonight."
"Be that as it may," Mrs. Tsukiyomi said vaguely. She placed the basket on the breakfast table and got busy preparing tea. Amu had to remind herself that this tall light blond-haired dynamo in jeans and a baggy old sweater was in fact the town matriarch, a woman who had once presided at her disposal.
Sending Amu another beaming smile, she said, "Ikuto is in love with you, isn't he."
Amu blanched. "No! We only met this morning."
"Please sit." Mrs. Tsukiyomi pushed her, with surprising force, into a chair. "So you met this morning and it was love at first sight."
"No. It was an accident. I almost ran him over."
"I suppose we should all be grateful that you didn't." She patted Amu's shoulder. "He's a good man, Amu—may I call you Amu? Ikuto is a little frisky, but that is part of the fun. Have you set a date yet?"
No wonder Angel had been worried when Mrs. Tsukiyomi had moved away from the family estate, Amu thought. Someone had to keep an eye on her. Dementia was certainly a possibility. "Ikuto and I are not getting married, Mrs. Tsukiyomi," she said carefully.
"Nonsense. The pendulum is swinging back, my dear. Twenty years ago, eighteen-year-olds like my granddaughter would not have sat still for a debutante cotillion. Now we are seeing the old traditions return, the old rituals being embraced. Living in sin is passé."
"I'm trying to tell you, Mrs. Tsukiyomi—your son and I met when my van skidded on some ice and he fell off his bike. We are not living in sin. We are not getting married."
Mrs. Tsukiyomi poured water into the teapot. "Why not? You don't love Ikuto?"
"I hardly know him."
"But what you know, you love," she said with conviction.
"Well…he's very nice," Amu conceded, trying not to think of all the other things he was: Forward. Mischievous. Virile. Gorgeous. Tantalizing.
Wealthy. Upper crust. Patrician.
"Ikuto and I come from very different backgrounds," she said, wishing he would get himself into the kitchen and set his mother straight.
"Where you come from isn't as important as where you're going. Who cares about backgrounds? You haven't got a criminal record, have you?"
"No, but—"
"Well, then, it hardly matters." With a flourish, she untied the white ribbon atop the basket of cookies, and then paused at the sound of Ikuto's footsteps in the hallway. "We're in the kitchen Iku!" she called, folding back the red cellophane and inhaling deeply. When Ikuto entered, she gave him a buoyant hug. "These cookies smell wonderful. I am glad you did not bring me one of those heart-shaped boxes of chocolates this year. That's so clichéd."
"Oh. Well—" he exchanged an amused glance with Amu "—I thought you might prefer cookies. Amu baked them."
"What a marvelous talent to have! Ikuto, she's perfect."
Ikuto exchanged another look with Amu. If he noticed her puzzlement, he chose to ignore it. "She's very talented Mom. Go ahead, dig in." He offered the basket to his mother, then helped himself to a cookie, took a bite and groaned contentedly. "What is this?"
"Butterscotch and rum," Amu told him.
"I thought it was going to be vanilla." A wicked smile traced his mouth as he gazed her. "I should have known to expect something more complicated. Try one of there, Mom." He searched the mount of cookies for another butterscotch-run one and handed it to his mother.
Amu pushed back her chair. "I've really got to go. I have so much to do—"
"Oh, please have a cup of tea first," Ikuto's mother said, "It's nearly lunchtime, and I'll bet you're planning to skip lunch. Am I right?"
"I usually do eat lunch," Amu said feeling the need to defend herself. "But the cotillion begins in just a few hours, and I have a lot of preparation—"
"So fuel up. Have a cookie." The telephone rang and Mrs. Tsukiyomi sighed and rolled her eyes. "It's been like this all morning. You would think this party was the biggest event of the season. Then again, I suppose it is." The phone rang a second time and Mrs. Tsukiyomi put down the teapot. "If you will excuse me…" With a casual smile, she left the kitchen.
Amu turned to Ikuto. "Your mother thinks we're getting married!"
Ikuto did not appear at all concerned. "She's always about ten steps ahead of the rest of us."
"Ikuto! Would you please tell her we are not ten steps behind her? I tried to explain that I was the caterer, but she wouldn't listen to me."
"She knows who you are. I introduced you and now she is eating your homemade cookies. They're almost as good as your chocolates kisses, by the way," he added, helping himself to a second cookie. "But I don't think my mother could handle a a treat as intense as those kisses."
"Forgive me if I sound harsh, but I don't think your mother can handle reality. She thinks I'm your girlfriend!"
"My mother is very realistic," he argued. "Take a look around you, Amu. This is the way she is no muss, no fuss. She likes to keep things simple."
"Sure. And when she gets sick of the simple life she can buy herself a penthouse in The Royal Gardens or forty beachfront acres in Greenwich."
"That's not her style," Ikuto insisted. "Tsukiyomi Hall was my father's home. My mother loved him, so she moved in and made a happy life for herself there. And now she's happy here—in a five-room condo, with a lady who comes in once a week to dust and vacuum. She drives a six-year-old can and buys most of her clothing through a catalog."
"Maybe that just proves that she's off her rocker," Amu muttered.
"Or else it proves," Ikuto said, "that she's working-class woman who feels most comfortable living normally."
"Your mother? The queen of Seiyo Historical Society—a working-class woman?"
"Her father was a union man. He worked on the Bridgeport docks. She won a full scholarship to Embryo University. Aruto Ikuto Tsukiyomi III happened to be the captain of the crew team at Embryo. It was love at first sight."
So, you met this morning and it was love at first sight. His mother's words reverberated inside Amu. Where you come from isn't as important as where you're going… Well, just because things had working out that way for Ikuto's mother and father didn't mean they would work out that way for Amu and—
"You aren't Aruto Ikuto Tsukiyomi IV, are you?"
Ikuto grimaced. "My dirty secret is out. Promise you won't hold it against me."
"I really have to go." She stood and crossed to the door, feeling the need to clear out before Ikuto's mother's perspective started to make sense to her. She did not care if Mrs. Tsukiyomi was the daughter of a union man. She had gone on to give birth to a son with a multimillion-dollar name.
And with the most mesmerizing eyes and the sexiest smile, the most arousing kisses.
"I've really got to go," she repeated, feeling as if she were pleading for her life.
He rose, too. He gaze softened, as if he recognized her apprehension and understood it. Taking her elbow, he ushered her out of the kitchen.
His mother was descending the stairs. "Was I that long on the phone?" she asked apologetically.
"Amu has to leave," Ikuto explained. "She's got a lot to prepare for the party tonight. For some reason, she thinks if everything isn't perfect Angel will give her a hard time."
"Angel will give her a hard time," Mrs. Tsukiyomi said with a long-suffering smile. "Giving people a hard time is what Angel does best. Amu, dear, I'm so glad we had this chance to meet. I assume I'll be seeing you tonight."
"Yes," said Amu. "So nice to meet you, too."
"I'll be right back," Ikuto told his mother before escorting Amu outside.
She assured herself he was only showing good manners by walking her to her van. In a matter of minutes, she would be rid of him. He was going to stay and visit with his mother, and she would be free.
Free to return to her house alone, to bustle around her kitchen by herself, without any interference from a man who thought there was nothing unseemly about glazing her finger with chocolate and stroking it across about the time she's spent with Ikuto in her kitchen sent a ripple of heat through her. She didn't want to go home alone. She wanted him to come with her, to help her make more kisses, to taste and nibble and share the devilishly complicated flavor of them with her. She wanted to gaze into his eyes and feel his arms around her and his mouth on hers again. She wanted to believe in love at first sight.
But she didn't and when Ikuto drew to a halt beside her van and dipped his head to hers, she turned her face.
Denied her lips, he nipped the sensitive edge of her earlobe. Fresh shivers of arousal filtered through her, gathering in the cradle of her hips. "Your hair is the prettiest color," he whispered.
"Only when the sun hits it," she mumbled, wishing she had the willpower to pull away.
He grazed the skin below her ear and she reflexively tilted her head so he could kiss her throat. "Are you going to be working all afternoon? I could stop by later."
To help her? Or for something else? "I'll be working," she said, wondering if he heard the breathless wavering in her voice. "I mean, really working. It would be better if you didn't stop by."
"Better for whom?" He slid his lips up to her chin, then higher, to her mouth. Her pulse roared in her ears as he thrust his tongue past her teeth, as he tighten his arms around her exactly as she's hoped he would, as he pulled her to himself and let her feel his response to her. His hips surged, pressed, rocked against her in a way that left her giddy and gasping, eager for more.
"Don't," she moaned, hiding her face in the hollow of his neck.
Sighing, he loosened his hold slightly but refused to let go. "I want you."
She knew that without him having to say it. "You scare me."
He chuckled. "Why? Because I'm Aruto Ikuto Tsukiyomi IV? Because you think my mother's nuts? Because you think I'll get in the way of your catering the perfect cotillion?"
"All of the above," she admitted with a faint smile.
"Or maybe you're scared because you know damn well we make better kisses together than you can make by yourself."
"Don't talk like that."
He traced the edge of her jaw with his fingertips. She imagined his touch elsewhere, on her arms, her belly, and her breast. She imagined making kisses with him in every possible way and her pulse grew even louder, faster, sending its throbbing heat through her body.
"You want me too," he guessed.
Of course, she wanted him, more than she'd ever wanted a man before. And that scared her most of all.
"Tell your mother this isn't love at first sight," she said, easing out of his embrace and opening the door of the van. "Desire isn't the same thing as love. Anyways, I don't have time for Love. I have to focus all my energies on Rose Petals Banquets right now. I'm barely treading water. If I do not do a perfect job with this cotillion, my company might go under. I don't even have time to stand here talking to you."
His fingers reached her temple and twirled through the hair there. "It's hard to believe a woman can't find little time for love on Valentine's Day."
Ikuto was more polite than Hotari Tadase had been, but the message was the same: if Amu put her professional survival ahead of her love life, she had something wrong with her. When Tadase had left her, she had been sad but not devastated. If Ikuto left her—
Left her? What was she thinking? They had known each other less than three hours. For her to climb into her van and drive home would hardly constitute the end of torrid romance.
Yet as long as he kept weaving his fingers through her hair, as long as he kept gazing at her with his hypnotic, jewel-like eyes, as long as she remembered the heat and texture of his moth on hers, his tongue dueling with hers, his body pressed to hers…
Torrid certainly seemed like the right word.
"I'm going," she said with as much firmness as she could muster.
Ikuto kept his hand on her arm until she was settled behind the wheel. "I'll be by," he promised.
"I'll be working."
"I don't doubt it." He took a step back and started to close the door. "We've had kisses and cookies and we've had shrimp—the sweets and the horse d'oeuvres." A sly smile curved his mouth. "It won't be long, Amu, before you and have the main course."
Angel-chan: Will they get to the main course? O.o or are then going to just got their separate ways?
Ikuto: Hell we're going to the main course!
Amu: YOUR PERVERT!
Angel-chan: Well who knows.
Ikuto: Come on everyone you guys want to know what happens next just as much as I do right? So press those yellow words and review asking for her to update soon and to write what we're all waiting for xD
Amu/Angel-chan: *sweat drop*
Angel-chan: Well yeah….anyways Till next time everyone *smiles*