Finding Isadora(14)

Cars lined the street in front of my apartment, so Richard double-parked, then walked me to the door. “Take good care of yourself,” he murmured as he bent to kiss me.

His lips were gentle, almost brotherly, and suddenly I was tired of him being considerate. I grabbed his butt and pulled him closer, needing a passionate kiss to block out all thought of his father. He responded eagerly and, through his tux pants, I felt him harden. I pressed against him, but as my arousal increased, so did the pain in my head.

I broke away. “Sorry. Ouch, my head’s getting worse.”

He gave a resigned groan and straightened his glasses, which I’d knocked askew. “And I’m double-parked. Time to call it a night. Phone me in the morning?”

“I will. Love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you, too. Thanks for coming. Feel better, all right?”

When I unlocked my apartment door, I got the usual greeting. Pogo skittered up to me, my parrot Owl called “‘Bout time you made it home, cutie,” and Alice, my white Persian, sauntered into the galley kitchen and gazed up at me dreamily out of her startling blue eyes. I’d named her after Alice in Wonderland, because she lived in a mysterious world of her own.

After bestowing strokes, I dispensed food and refilled water dishes, then left the kitchen so Peek-a-boo would feel safe to emerge. The most recent addition to my menagerie, the young tabby had been seriously abused and I’d yet to convince him a human existed who could be trusted.

Wondering about *willow, I checked my watch. Martin hadn’t called my cell, so the cat must be all right. Still, I’d rather know for sure. Chances were, Martin would still be awake, studying some heavy textbook.

When he answered the clinic phone, he confirmed he was with our patient, studying. He reassured me she was doing fine.

“Great. I’m home, so if anything happens, give me a call.”

Now I could truly relax. I stood in the middle of my precious domain and took several deep, cleansing breaths, feeling the peace seep into me.

My apartment was less than 400 square feet, with the one main room serving as dining room, living room, and bedroom. My best friend Janice and I loved browsing garage sales and secondhand stores, and each piece of furniture evoked a pleasant memory. Stuffed and ceramic animals peeped through the leaves of trailing plants, sharing shelf space with my collection of used books. The art on the walls consisted of—what else?—animal posters and drawings done by children like Sue Tran.

I loved every single thing about my tiny home.

Now I pulled out the hide-a-bed, transforming my couch into a sheet-clad double bed, and added the pillows and duvet I kept stored in a wicker hamper. Alice sauntered over, sniffed the edge of the duvet, then deigned to leap up and settle on my pillow.

From the stack of CDs by the miniature home entertainment unit, I chose an old Enya album, and turned the volume up just loud enough so that I’d hear it in the bathroom. And then, the mood set in my queendom, I went to relax in the tub, headache balm soaking into my temples as Enya sang hauntingly about love. Losing love, finding love…

The music was soothing, the bath lovely and hot. Was there something wrong with me, that I’d rather be alone in a hot bath tonight than heating up the sheets with Richard?

Was there something wrong with Richard and I, that we didn’t do crazy, sexy things? That we’d never taken a romantic weekend?

My parents were the wild ones. Even after more than thirty-five years together, they went for midnight picnics where, I was dead sure, they made love naked under the stars.

It’d be uncomfortable and maybe even dangerous, I told myself. Sex should be comfortable, cozy, relaxed. Though… Was it kind of boring and middle-aged to only make love in bed, at night or first thing in the morning, as was Richard’s and my pattern?

I thrashed restlessly in the tub. Honestly, if someone who didn’t know us heard a description of both couples, they’d undoubtedly say Grace and Jimmy Lee were the young lovers and Richard and I the long established partners.

Well, each couple was different. Grace and Jimmy Lee were … hot. They had a special chemistry, and it involved a potent sexual spark. I’d finally, almost, gotten over being embarrassed about it. In fact, I now thought it was kind of cute.

Maybe I even envied their chemistry. But comfortable and cozy was Richard’s and my style, perhaps because we were inherently conservative people. Unlike my parents. And his father. Conservative was not the word to describe Gabriel DeLuca. Now that man was hot. Hot enough to make me squirm, damn him. Annoyed, I pulled the plug and stood up as the water drained.

Fine, he was hot. That must be a real bonus for whoever he was sleeping with. A man as sexy as that would definitely be sleeping with someone. It would be such a waste if he weren’t.

I scrubbed a towel roughly across my skin. Gabriel’s sex life was completely irrelevant to me.

As for Richard and I, maybe we’d get a little wilder and more spontaneous as our love matured. We’d known each other only a year and likely we needed the security of being married, and devoted to building a future together, before we lost our inhibitions. Yes, our fire was a nice steady one that would only grow warmer over the years.

That was the kind of heat I wanted. Not something as shallow as feeling sparks for a stranger across a crowded room.





Chapter 3


Sunday I woke, after a restless night filled with images of panthers, chocolates, and Gabriel DeLuca, with the nagging remnants of last night’s headache. Richard and I chatted on the phone, firming up plans to meet for dinner. I had the day off, but he was already at the office.