Shelter from the Storm Read online

  “What?” She stepped away from the fridge. “I suppose you’ll just have those brown paper napkins made from recycled material at your wedding.”

  Mac grabbed a beer from the fridge, opened it, then headed back toward his room. “No, I would forego napkins altogether and have the guests all wipe their mouths on their shirtsleeves, like I do.”

  Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

  He turned around, “Do they really make napkins with recycled content?”

  “We’re not buying them.”

  “Why not?” he shouted.

  She followed him to his room, pausing at the entrance. “They’re yucky looking and they cost more.” She leaned against the doorframe.

  He sat his beer on his nightstand before climbing back on the bed. “But they’re better for the environment. Don’t you care about your carbon footprint?” Mac opened a case file and began to read.

  “Of course I do.” She held up her water bottle. “I’m recycling, aren’t I?”

  “But still buying all those individual little water bottles. Baby steps.”

  Jennifer took a minute to look around. The room had been totally transformed in the last two days. Initially it had contained just the dark walnut antique four-poster bed and dresser surrounded by white walls. The first change had been those walls. When Jennifer came home from Rachel and Tom’s on New Year’s Day, she discovered Mac had painted them red. Red.

  “You painted the walls red?” she’d asked.

  “No. It’s not red. The guy at the paint store said it’s called ‘Rendezvous’.”

  “Right, rendezvous!” She laughed and shook her head. “Did he give you a discount?”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “It’s a bit…red.”

  “I think it makes a statement.”

  “What kind of a statement?’

  “Trust me, I’ve got a vision. It’s going to be great,” he replied, not deterred in the least.

  And he was right. After he painted the walls the rich wine color, he had stenciled on the Chinese symbols for peace, love and faith. He’d also positioned a three-by-five jewel-toned oriental rug between the antique dresser and the footboard of the bed. The richness of the colors complemented the dark wooden shades of the hardwood flooring and walnut furnishings. There was even a large tray of sorts resting on top of the dresser that Mac had fashioned out of an old portrait frame and filled with pillar candles.

  “You coming in?”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah. If it’s all right.”

  “Of course, have a seat.”

  Jennifer walked around the bed en route to the chair. The bed itself took up most of the room. He’d adorned in with a black chenille duvet cover, trimmed in red Chinese silk not unlike the material her robe was made from. There was a new piece of furniture. He had placed it so it sat between his bedside and the black leather chair he had retrieved from storage and was using it as a combination nightstand and side table. In addition to a clock and his beer, the table held a lamp, about four or five books, and a pair of reading glasses.

  “New table and lamp,” she observed, sliding into the chair.

  “Found the table this morning over on Adams in one of those little antique stores.” He continued to flip through his case file, scanning the contents.

  The overhead light in the room was turned off. The only light came from the candles and the bedside lamp. The room with filled with a warm glow, and interesting shadows danced across the dramatic walls as the flames of the candles flickered.

  “Did you have the lamp already?”

  “Yeah, I’ve had it for a while.”

  “I should let you work.” She started to get up.

  He tossed the file aside. “No. I need to stop.” He tilted his head toward the lamp. “I bought it in a store up in L.A., in Chinatown. I don’t remember why I was there, probably killing time. My mum was sick. I was practically living at the hospital. I bought it for her. Everything in that room was so cold, so sterile.”

  “I bet she loved it.”

  Mac nodded. “We’d sit there together and stare at it. I don’t know what it is. Maybe the way the light gets diffused as it passes through the flax paper but it seems—”

  “Warm. Peaceful.”

  “Yeah.” Mac sighed.

  Jennifer leaned back in the chair, kicked off her shoes and propped her feet up on the edge of his bed. “The place looks great. It feels nice.”

  “You look like you’re ready for a nap.”

  “Maybe a hot bath.” She closed her eyes. “How do you feel about take-out Chinese for tonight?”

  “Can’t join you tonight, blondie.” Mac got up, then drained the rest of the beer. “I’ve got a date,” he told her, setting the bottle back on his nightstand.

  Jennifer’s eyes flew open. She quickly sized up his appearance. “You do not have a date.”

  Mac pulled his leather coat out of the closet. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because you’re not even dressed.”

  Mac looked down at his obviously clothed body. “Of course I’m dressed. What are you talking about?” He picked his keys and billfold up off of the dresser.

  “You’re not dressed up. You know, so you can make a good first impression.”

  “It’s supposed to be casual, pizza and a movie. This is what I normally wear.” Mac stuffed his billfold into the pocket of his jeans.

  “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t make a little extra effort. You know, put your best foot forward.” Jennifer stood and stretched. “Did you even shower?”

  “Course I did! I showered this morning when I came back from my run.”

  “That was for work. I meant for your date.”

  “Let me guess.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You’re one of these girls who puts on airs, trying to impress so you can reel some unsuspecting bloke in. When, may I ask, are you supposed to start to show your date the real you?”

  “You think your date is going to let you see the real her?”

  “Don’t know. The truth is I have no control over what she’s going to do. What I do know is if I like what I see and she’s willing to go out with me again it’ll be because she saw something in me she liked. I won’t have to be guessing about whether what she liked about me was the façade.” Mac walked back over toward her and retrieved his empty beer bottle. “Recyclable.”

  “You know what I think? I think you’re being a teensy bit disingenuous.”

  “How so?”

  She gestured toward him. “This is all part of an image.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The black boots, leather coat, rumpled T-shirt that screams ‘I’m a bad boy’ when—”

  Mac wrapped the arm holding the beer bottle around her waist and in one fluid motion pulled her body flush against his before bending her backward in a low dip. “You don’t think I can be bad?”

  Jennifer’s breath hitched.

  “Little girl, you have no idea,” he whispered into the shell of her ear, his voice low and seductive. Then he nuzzled her at her neck, breathing her in. “We’re all just a little bit bad.”

  “You mean, what you’ve shown me? This great, sensitive guy I’ve been getting to know isn’t the real you?” She was slightly breathless.

  Mac lifted his head and looked searchingly into her eyes. He was so close. He smelled so good. He felt so good. Her entire body tightened in anticipation.

  “We all have a dark side,” he murmured. “A part lurking within us, longing to live for the moment, to act on wild impulses, to give in to temptation.” Mac licked his She could practically taste them. “Don’t you ever feel that?”

  Jennifer’s heart was racing and her mouth was dry. It was as if time had suddenly stopped. As she gazed into his impossibly blue eyes, she realized this was one of those defining moments. One of those times when, with a single action, you could change the course of your life. If only you were willing to take the c
hance.

  “Mac… I…”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re going to be late for your date.”

  “Right.” He straightened, bringing her back to an upright position. “I hate to keep a beautiful girl waiting.”

  “You should go. Have fun.”

  “Right now, I’m sorry I agreed to it.” Mac reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’d much rather stay here and order Chinese with you.” Then he turned around and left her. Alone.

  “Pick up! Pick up!” Jennifer chanted into the phone as she paced back and forth.

  The buzzer to the intercom rang, announcing the arrival of her dinner. She buzzed the delivery boy into the building, then tossed the cordless phone on the couch. Jennifer pulled a twenty out of her wallet, opened the door and waited. When he stepped off the elevator her phone rang.

  “Leave the food and keep the change!”

  As soon as the man snatched the money out of her hand and passed her the brown paper bag, Jennifer was on her way to the telephone.

  “Hello?”

  “What is it? Are you sick? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

  “No, I’m fine.” Jennifer set the bag of food on the counter.

  “You’re fine? You’ve left me seven messages in the past hour saying there was an emergency!”

  “Well, there is, but not a hospital kind of emergency.” She hurriedly removed the cartons of food from the bag. “It’s more of a kissing type of emergency. Well it wasn’t a kiss, actually. More like an almost kiss—”

  “Jennifer, breathe. Sit.”

  Jennifer took several deep breaths as she walked over to the sofa and sat down. “What am I going to do?”

  “Tell me what happened. We’ll figure it out.”

  “He was holding me in his arms and looking into my eyes. I could smell his aftershave and the faint scent of the beer he had just finished. It was as if time suddenly stood still and all I could see was him. He said something and I looked at his lips. I had this impulse to… What’s wrong with me?”

  “You’re horny because you haven’t had sex in three years?”

  “Two years,” Jennifer corrected.

  “Who are we talking about here?”

  “Mac.”

  “Oh, shit! You’re new roommate made a pass at you?”

  “No, it wasn’t like that. We were talking while he was not getting ready for his date. I was teasing him—”

  “You were teasing him?”

  “Not in a sexual way! I was teasing him about what he was wearing. I said something about him trying to project a certain type of image and then there were eyes and lips and almost kissing.”

  “But there was no kiss.”

  “No kiss,” Jennifer confirmed. “But there were sparks.”

  “Definite sparks?”

  “Yeah.” Jennifer leaned back and rested her head on the sofa.

  “For both of you?”

  “I think so.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I got scared and pulled away. It was like we were wrapped in this spell and suddenly I made it all go poof. God, I’m such an idiot! What was I thinking? I was practically panting, Rachel. I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Maybe he didn’t notice?”

  “He noticed.”

  “So, you got scared. Everyone gets scared. When Mac returns from his date, just tell him.”

  “I can’t get involved with him, you know I can’t.”

  “Not can’t,” Rachel clarified. “Won’t”

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “It’s not, and you know it.” Rachel quoted: “‘Can (verb): to be able to. Will (verb): the capability of conscious choice and decision and intention’.”

  “Do you actually read the dictionary?”

  “Hey! We’re not talking about my quirks here, we’re talking about your quirks. Tomorrow you can call me back and pick on me.”

  Jennifer sighed. “Fair enough. Maybe I’ll pretend nothing happened.”

  “That’s your plan? From what you’ve told me about this guy, my guess is he’s not going to fall for it.”

  “Well, you’re not helping. It’s the best I can come up with right now!”

  “I don’t think creating an alternate universe is going to work this time, Jennifer.”

  “You’re probably right. What if he brings it up? What am I going to say?”

  “Say what’s true. Tell him how you feel.”

  “What if I’m not sure what’s true or how I feel?” Jennifer asked, feeling a sense of panic at the thought of revealing herself.

  “Then that’s what you say. You can do this, Jennifer,” Rachel encouraged.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Definite sparks?”

  “Like I’ve never felt before.”

  “Call me tomorrow. Maybe we can get together for dinner? I want to meet this guy.”

  “All right. I’ll call you tomorrow,” Jennifer agreed before hanging up.

  She picked up the remote control, switched on the television and began searching for something to watch. “Dr. Zhivago. Out of Africa. Casablanca,” she muttered, quickly flipping through the channels. “Is there anything on besides tragic romances? Ah-ha Lawrence of Arabia! That will work, a war story. No women. No romance.”

  Jennifer dished up some of the Chinese food, poured herself a glass of wine and curled up on the sofa. Two hours later, she realized her strategy wasn’t working. She was still thinking about Mac. “Stupid Peter O’Toole and his stupid blonde hair, blue eyes and chiseled cheekbones.” She aimed the remote control at the television set and clicked it. The screen went black.

  For the next few minutes she busied herself cleaning up her dishes, placing the leftover food in the fridge and turning off the lights. She went into her bedroom, undressed and put on her robe. Intent on taking a bath, she grabbed a fresh towel out of the linen closet before walking into the bathroom and turning on the taps to the water. After adding a generous amount of orange-ginger bubble bath, she had a few minutes to kill. She popped some mellow Spanish guitar music into the CD player, then refilled her wineglass and made a quick stop in Mac’s room to search through his stack of books.

  Hastily, she scanned the various titles. “He’s got to have something I’ve never read before.” After Jennifer selected one she returned to the bathroom, pushed the door closed, shed her robe, turned off the taps and stepped into the tub.

  The temperature of the water was shear perfection. The aroma of the bath salts almost instantly soothing. Jennifer sat the glass down on the floor and leaned back, submerging herself. She leisurely sipped her wine and read for close to twenty minutes. Finally, the tension in her neck and shoulders started to subside. She set the book alongside her empty wineglass, drained some of the water, added more hot, then leaned back and exhaled, grateful that at last she was able to turn off her thoughts and relax.

  “Jennifer?”

  She sat up. “I’m taking a bath.”

  “Yeah? Well, I’ve got to use the bathroom. If you’re the modest type you better close the shower curtain. I’ll try not to peek.” Mac opened the door.

  Jennifer gasped. She grabbed the shower curtain and pulled it closed, shielding herself. “You peeked. I saw you.”

  “I said I’d try not to peek. I did try. I found I couldn’t help myself.”

  She heard him unzip his pants, lift the lid on the commode and relieve himself.

  “If you feel you simply must even the score, you’re welcome to peek,” he offered.

  “I think I’ll pass.”

  He flushed the commode, then turned on the water at the sink. “Is that my book?”

  “Hope you don’t mind, I—”

  “Don’t mind at all. I’ve almost finished it. You’re welcome to it tonight, blondie. I’ve got plenty to read. Can I get you another glass of wine? It looks like you’re almost out.”

  “Please. And would you mind hitting the play but
ton on the CD again?”

  “Anything else you can think of to make your bath more enjoyable, milady?” He called out from the kitchen.

  “Brad Pitt? Oh!” Jennifer gasped as the curtain suddenly opened a few inches. When she turned toward the gap, her eyes met his. He was crouched down, holding out the glass to her.

  “I promise, I’m just looking at your eyes. No peeking. Two outta three ain’t bad.” Mac said.

  “No Brad?”

  Mac’s reply was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. “Hello?”

  “I miss you already,” the voice on the other end of the phone said.

  Mac’s forehead wrinkled as he moved into a sitting position, his back against the wall. “How did you get this number?” he asked, setting the beer he’d been holding onto the floor.

  “Mike gave it to me. I told him I left something in your car.”

  “Did you leave something in my car?” Mac picked the beer back up, tilted it to his lips and took several swallows.

  “No. But tonight didn’t go exactly like I had hoped. I was thinking, maybe, if you wanted to, we could try a different ending.”

  “Mel—”

  “Let’s not play games. I’m waiting for you. I want you. You know where I live. No. Strings. Attached,” she said, slowly, before hanging up.

  Mac pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a few seconds.

  Jennifer had heard every word. He looked over at her and she quickly looked away, avoiding his gaze. Her cheeks tinged pink from embarrassment.

  “You heard. You’re embarrassed.” Mac sat the cell phone down on the bathroom floor and then took another sip of his beer. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s been a long day.” Jennifer stared down into her wineglass. “I’m kind of tired.”

  “This will only take a minute, I have something for you. I meant to give it to you earlier, but we got…distracted.”

  Jennifer looked up, surprised. “Aren’t you going out?”

  “To see Melody? That would be a no.” He climbed to his feet and headed for the door. “Be right back.”

  “But, she was offering sex!” Jennifer blurted out.

  Mac froze, his back to her. “Yes.”

  “Don’t you like sex?”