“That’s not like Mark at all,” Greg said.
“See? I told you. Weird.”
“Are you guys done discussing my life?” Mark asked.
“Yeah.” James moved toward the door. “I’m late for work so pay me tomorrow for your dinner. I’m glad I got to see you fall on your face for once.” His laughter trailed behind him.
Greg glared at Mark. “He’s your friend.”
“He grows on you.”
“Yeah, all that vagueness. Did you really break off your date with the chick that works at the deli over there?” he asked, his tone imitating James.
Mark chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Yes, I did. Now James has to get me sandwiches from there so I can avoid her.”
Greg rolled his eyes. “Any particular reason why you didn’t go out with her?”
“This girl, Rachel, walked into the store two weeks ago, the same day you left for Florida. I greeted her like I would any other customer. She smiled at me and I swear my heart stopped. She’s got these incredible green eyes that kind of grabbed me.” Mark paused and narrowed his eyes at Greg. “Why are you looking at me so strange?”
Greg placed his hand over his smile. “I’m sorry. Keep going.”
“She comes in every couple days and buys a new book. She’s nice, intelligent, and not to mention, beautiful. Anyway, to answer your question, after I met Rachel, Lisa didn’t seem worth my time anymore.”
“Poor Lisa. Why did it take you so long to ask out Rachel?”
“I don’t know. It’s like I freeze up every time I see her. I’ve never had that problem before. It’s crazy.”
“You’ve become a monk over some girl who won’t go out with you? James is right. You are acting weird.”
Mark ignored him. “Why don’t you go home and spend some time with Anna? I don’t know why you came in at all.”
“Because I’m scheduled to close the store tonight.”
Mark noticed Greg’s tired eyes. “I’ll stay and close up the store for you.”
“That’s unselfish of you.”
“It’s not like I have anything better to do now. Besides, it’s your first day back from vacation. Go relax and unwind before you have to come in tomorrow morning and deal with real life again.”
Greg started for the door. “You know, Mark, I think the office looks great.”
Satisfaction zinged through Mark and he smiled. “I appreciate it. Now get out of here.”
Chapter Two
Mark locked the front doors of the bookstore after his long day. Time had dragged its feet against his ego from the second Rachel gave him the brush-off. He’d been so sure she would say yes. Girls never said no.
He flipped a switch and darkness claimed the store. His eyes adjusted, and he moved through the shadowed rows of books to a door with a red and white “Employees Only” sign. He entered the storage room and maneuvered around the racks containing books and supplies. Searching for anything out of place, he glanced at the shelves, and stopped to straighten up the cleaning supplies.
Mark placed a hand over his mouth and yawned. The past two weeks, he had worked twice as hard to make up for Greg’s absence. Mark’s body never missed an opportunity to remind him of its limitations, but the frequent visits of their newest patron kept him going.
Mark shook the thought out of his head. At twenty-nine, he reveled in his bachelor status. Greg nagged him to settle down, reminding him he couldn’t chase women for the rest of his life, but Mark never listened.
Commitment didn’t scare him. Anna turned Greg’s life around for the better, and Mark dove into the role of best man at their wedding. Yet when Greg tossed the garter belt, Mark thrust his hands in his pockets. Standing in a crowd of men cheered on by zealous girlfriends with weddings twinkling in their eyes, Mark stepped away from the action.
Mark relished his perfect life, and he controlled everything the world threw at him. He had no boss looming over him, no landlord collecting rent, and no significant other monitoring him. He needed nothing else to keep him happy.
Though Rachel declined to have a cup of coffee with him, he shouldn’t have asked in the first place. Out of all the women in the world, she had the potential to bring complications into his otherwise uncomplicated life.
The silver lining of the rejection cloud bringing him comfort, Mark activated the security alarm and opened the back door. The chilly night greeted him, and he regretted not grabbing a jacket at home that morning. The automatic door lock on the backdoor engaged itself, and he took a few steps outside into the cool night air. He froze in mid-step.
Rachel Thomas stood in front of his old Chevy pickup truck.
Positive she would disappear, he closed his eyes. When he reopened them, she shoved her hands into the pockets of a formfitting black jacket and smiled. Under the glow of the parking lot lights, a crisp May breeze moved her hair around her shoulders. Moistening his lips, he started toward her.
“I assumed this was your truck,” she said.
“You assumed correctly.” His hyperactive nerves made his voice sound foreign. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been thinking about it, and I’d like to have that cup of coffee with you. That is, if it’s not too late to take you up on your offer.”
Mark smiled. “I’d love to have a cup of coffee. I know this great place on 21st Street—”
“I live right over there,” she said, pointing to the neighborhood behind the store, “and I have a coffee maker.”
“That sounds fine, too.” Not seeing another vehicle with his truck in the parking lot, he asked, “Did you walk here?”
“Yes.”
“Then let me drive you home.”
Following her directions, he steered his pickup through a sleepy neighborhood and into the driveway of a light blue house with white trim. The sidewalk led past a willow tree threatening to overtake the lawn. On the front porch, the wind pushed a wooden swing along to the tempo of rustling leaves. Each creak of the swing invited them to sit and enjoy its relaxing movements.
Rachel pulled a set of keys out of her jacket pocket. Mark’s curiosity grew with each of the three deadbolts she unlocked, all requiring different keys. After they entered the house, she relocked the deadbolts along with two chain locks.
“You do know you’re in Wichita, Kansas, right?” Mark asked. “We have our share of incidents, but it’s not the crime capital of the world, especially not this neighborhood.”
“We rent this place from an elderly woman,” Rachel said. “She probably feels safer having so many locks. Oh, and the house came furnished and decorated as is.”
Mark followed her into the living room and realized why she made the last statement. The avocado green couch resembled one his parents owned during his youth, and the blue and orange plaid recliner complemented the orange walls. “It’s very colorful,” he said. They walked up two steps of shag carpet into a kitchen with yellow countertops, accented by daisy wallpaper.
“I don’t quite know what to think about the house, but Danielle loves it.”
“Is Danielle your roommate?” Mark asked.
“She’s more like a sister to me than a roommate.”
Not hearing any other noise in the house, Mark asked, “Is she here?”
“She’s out at some club, getting into trouble, I’m sure.”
“I take it you don’t approve.”
“It’s not like I don’t approve of her going, but clubs and bars aren’t for me. I would rather be at home reading than in a club sitting at a corner table, sober enough to know most of the people dancing look like complete fools.”
Mark chuckled. “That’s a good way of looking at it.”
“Danielle’s a good girl, though. She doesn’t go there to drink or pick up guys. She only wants to get out and dance for a few hours. It’s her release from the stress of life.”
“She never brings anyone home?”
“Like I said, she’s a good girl.” She opened
a cabinet beside the sink and removed a coffee can and a box of filters. Turning to Mark, she said, “There’s a catch to this whole coffee thing.”
“What?”
A corner of her mouth turned upward. “I have no idea how to make coffee.”
“You have a coffee maker and you don’t know how to make coffee?”
“Danielle always makes it. I never paid attention before. All I know is you add water and hot coffee magically appears from nowhere.”
“This particular coffee maker is much easier to operate than you think,” he said. Taking the box of filters and can of coffee grounds from her hands, he explained his actions while he worked. “You put four scoops of grounds into the filter, then pour water into the top. That pushes the hot water from the reservoir through the filter, and gives you instant, hot coffee.” As soon as he stopped speaking, the first drops of coffee fell into the carafe.
“I’ll never remember that. Kitchen appliances and I don’t get along.” Rachel wrinkled her nose. “I guess it’s the kitchen in general that doesn’t like me.”
He laughed with her. “Any other catches I should know about?” he asked.
“Nothing comes to mind.” Rachel leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. Her mouth twisted into a crooked smile. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself? I only know you own a bookstore and you have great taste in mystery novels.”
“I wondered about that. How do you know I’m not some deranged, psychotic lunatic?”
“Outside of being able to tell you’re not one, ask me what I do when I’m not in your bookstore.”
“What do you do when you’re not in my bookstore?”
“I volunteer at a domestic violence shelter, where I teach self-defense.”
“So if I was psychotic—”
“You’d probably end up in the hospital with any number of contusions and broken bones.”
He raised a brow. “Good thing I’m not psychotic. Now, I know you’re new in town, but you never said where you’re from.”
“Danielle and I moved here from Indianapolis, but I’m originally from California.” She pulled two mugs off the tree on the counter and handed them to him. “Are you from here?”
“Born and raised.” He filled the cups with coffee. “It might be a little strong. Do you take it black?”
“Yes.” She accepted the cup from him, and sipped the coffee. “It’s good,” she said, and sat down at the table. “Much better than Danielle’s coffee. She makes it so weak, and then loads it up with cream and sugar.”
Mark grabbed the handle of his mug. The backs of his fingers grazed the hot ceramic, and the heat from the coffee burned into his skin. He juggled the hot mug, and chose a chair adjacent to her. The fragrant steam of the coffee wafted into his nostrils, and the liquid warmed its way down his throat.
“Why did you move to Kansas?” he asked. “Do you have family in the area?”
Rachel set her mug down on the table. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she said, “I don’t have any family. My parents both died when I was young and I have no brothers or sisters.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It was quite some time ago. They were in a car accident. A drunk driver ran them off the road.”
“That’s terrible,” Mark said. “You don’t have any aunts, uncles, or grandparents?”
“Both of my parents were only children and my grandparents passed before I was born. The death of my parents left me an orphan.”
“Did you go live with a foster family?”
“I didn’t have much of a choice since I didn’t have anyone else. Does your family live here?”
“Greg and his wife, Anna, are the only family I have. Mom died when I was ten and Dad had his heart attack a year later. Greg was twenty-one when Dad died, so he assumed responsibility for me. I was lucky to have him.”
“Sounds like it. I was also ten when my parents died, so I know how hard it is. Your parents didn’t have family, either?”
“They did and I imagine they’re still alive somewhere, but I never knew them outside of a few scattered photographs. I think both my parents were the proverbial black sheep.” Not wanting to scare her off with the dark conversation, he changed the subject. “What does your roommate do for a living?”
“She waitresses at some restaurant by the mall. Dos Amigos or something like that. All I know is she brings home delicious enchiladas for me. She also volunteers part-time at the shelter on her days off.”
“I don’t mean to pry, but if you volunteer at the shelter, and your roommate is a waitress who also does volunteer work, how do you guys live?”
Rachel shifted in her chair, and Mark worried he pushed the conversation too far with the personal questions. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t ask you things like that.”
“It’s okay,” Rachel said. She moistened her lips. “My parents left me a trust fund, which allows me the freedom to do volunteer work instead of sitting in a cubicle all day.”
“Ah, so you were a rich kid, huh?”
Rachel laughed. “I guess so. I don’t really think of it like that, though.”
“If I grew up with someone else making my coffee, I wouldn’t know how to make it, either,” Mark said. “I take it you had maids, gardeners, and at least one cook.”
“All of the above,” Rachel said. “In a way it was bad because I never learned how to cook. Danielle can’t cook, either, so unless she’s making boxed macaroni and cheese, our meals consist of ‘Welcome to Greasy Burger, can I take your order?’ It’s a far cry from having a personal chef.”
“Well, you are in the company of a pretty good cook. Maybe I can remind you how wonderful real food can be.”
Her smile grew, and her eyes sparkled. “Maybe.”
Chapter Three
Rachel couldn’t erase the smile from her face and butterflies danced in her stomach without thought of ever stopping. Talking to Mark seemed so natural, and she found herself unable to keep her eyes off him. She didn’t know which attribute drew her in the most: the wisps of dark hair falling around his brow, the intensity of his bluish-grey eyes, or his sensual, wide mouth. It all came together and brought her insides to life.
Though men had approached her before, most deemed her off limits after speaking to her for a few minutes. If they didn’t, she excelled at alienating them. She also ignored Danielle’s attempts to persuade her to date. She avoided luxuries like dreaming, dating, and love.
But Mark was so far removed from any man she had ever known. Around him she didn’t feel so trapped or caged, and her reservations disappeared. She looked forward to going to his store, to talking with him, to seeing his face. She devoured the words in every book she bought to have an excuse to go back to his store and interact with him. With Mark, laughter came easy and smiling came easier. She missed those rarities in her life.
His intrusion into her life unnerved her. She had devoted too much time and energy to constructing the fortress around her world. The well-fortified walls had no visible entrance, yet Mark somehow broke through her defenses. She had not intended for this to happen.
Rachel glanced at her watch, prompting Mark to do the same. Two hours had flown by without consulting her. Their chairs had moved closer to each other during their conversation, and Rachel battled the urge to push her chair away from him.
“I didn’t realize it was so late,” he said. “As much as I don’t want to, I should get going. I have to open the store tomorrow morning.”
“I have to get up early, too.”
He didn’t move.
Her heart picked up speed and her breathing shallowed. She tried to look away, but his eyes held hers captive. Without thinking, she reached out and touched his lips with her fingers. She closed her eyes as he took her hand and kissed her fingertips.
A slight tremor rattled her body, and she withdrew her arm. The spell broken, she picked at a small chip in the handle of her mug, aware of Mark’s scrutini
zing gaze. She stammered, and tried to find some nonsensical excuse for her actions.
She turned toward the sound of the deadbolts unlocking on the front door. “Danielle’s home,” she said, trying not to sound relieved at the interruption. “I’d better go let her in.”
Danielle banged on the door and yelled Rachel’s name. A touch of panic latched onto Rachel, and she froze for a moment.
“Is she okay?” Mark asked.
Rachel realized the cause of Danielle’s behavior, and her eyes widened. “Your truck is out front,” she said. She rushed through the living room and tore the chains off the front door.
Danielle Palmer stood on the porch, wearing black pants and a black spaghetti strap top under a light black jacket. Large, golden curls bordered the frightened look on her face, and she held a can of mace in her hand.
“What are you doing?” Rachel whispered. “Put that away!”
Danielle returned the mace to her purse and stepped through the door. “I thought they...wait a second. Whose truck is parked outside?” she asked. Her mouth dropped when Mark entered the foyer. “Oh, wow.” She straightened her posture and extended her hand. “I’m Danielle Palmer.”
He shook her hand. “Mark Jacobson. Nice to meet you.”
“Same here.”
“Danielle, Mark and his brother own the bookstore on the corner,” Rachel said. “You know, the one I get my books from.”
“Oh,” Danielle said, drawing out the word as if making a connection. To Mark, she said, “I apologize for all the commotion. I didn’t know Rachel had company tonight. I’ve been on edge since our last home was broken into. That’s why we have so many locks on our door.”
A puzzled expression crossed Mark’s face. “I thought the lady you rent the house from put on the locks.”
“She did,” Rachel said, “but Danielle wanted to keep them because of the break-in.”
Danielle put her hand on Rachel’s arm. “You know, Rach, I think I’ll head back out. I’m a bit hungry and I’m sure there’s a drive thru open somewhere.”