Real Romance - By Ginny Baird Page 0,37

napkin and running to the front door.

"Gracious," she said, throwing it wide. "A winter wonderland!"

A blanket of white covered the ground and delicate icicles hung from the trees, catching the color of the morning sky.

"Wanna play?" David asked, stealing up behind her and nuzzling her neck.

After breakfast they put on their coats and headed outside, and fortunately, David was the right size for Mark's old snow gear. They threw snowballs, raced circles around the big oak tree, and made snow angels on the ground when they were too tired to run anymore.

"My!" Marie said, panting as she ran back into the house. "Next time I face off against Mark and Johnny in a snowball fight, remind me to put you on my team."

"You got it," David said, laughing and peeling off his wet outer clothing. "Where shall I put these?"

"Here"—she took them—"in the dryer."

"Hmm, "David said, sneaking up behind her as she bent over the lint trap. "I've got some other parts that need warming up too."

"David Lake! Are you always this bad?" she asked without turning.

David reached forward and cupped her breasts in his hands. "Only with you."

Marie forgot all about loading the dryer and chased him back into the bedroom, where they stripped in record time and engaged in another hour-long sexual romp.

"Well!" she said, throwing herself belly down on the bed. "Now, what do we do for the rest of the afternoon?"

"How about Monopoly?" he asked, running a trailing finger down her back.

"Monopoly?" she asked with a giggle. "Are you serious?"

"Well, I like it, don't you? Sometimes when Deb and I were snowbound in Asheville, it was the only way we had to entertain ourselves."

Actually, when Marie thought about it, she and her brothers and sisters had spent an awful lot of time playing that game during the dreary winters.

"I get to be the banker!" Marie screeched, springing off the mattress and grabbing for her robe.

Hours later, they settled back in front of a blazing fire and sipped their hot cocoa.

"Today's been like a dream," Marie said.

"Yes," David answered. "Too bad the snow's melting."

She sighed heavily and rested her head against his arm. "Well, I suppose for both of us, duty calls. Your shop will be open tomorrow and so will mine."

"Uh-oh," David said, setting down his mug. "Are we getting to the part where you tell me it's time to go home?"

"Not on your life," she said, tightening her hand around his arm.

In fact, Marie realized with stunning clarity, she never wanted David to go home. Though it had been only twenty-four hours since the fiancé charade began, she was starting to realize that she didn't want to give it up. Not just the fabulous sexual attraction between them, but the other ways they related as well. David was easy to talk to, and fun-loving in a way that reminded her of her younger brothers. She'd never laughed so much with Paul, or—heaven knows—Cecil. With those two, she'd always felt as if they were observing her, just waiting somehow for the inevitable moment when she would slip up.

David, on the other hand, didn't seem to have a judgmental bone in his body. He took her for who she was and seemed to love every bit of it. What, oh what, had she done to deserve him?

"You're being awfully quiet," David said, bringing his feathery breath to her cheek.

"I was just thinking," she said into the firelight. "That other than our both hating Silence In The Trees..."

David chuckled.

"You and I seem to have a lot in common."

"Yeah," he said, lightly kissing her hair. "And who knows? It's only the beginning."

A beginning without an end, Marie found herself hoping.

"For example, I bet you like oldies... classic rock. Seventies and eighties, mostly."

Her eyes widened behind her glasses. "Amazing! David, how did you—"

He threw his head back with a laugh. "Studied your CD collection earlier," he said with a stealthy grin. "While you were sleeping."

She shook her head and sipped from her cocoa.

"My point is," David continued. "I like that music, too. You and I must have twenty duplicate CDs."

"Really?"

David stopped talking and seemed to scrutinize her for a moment.

"What? What's wrong?" she asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

"You have the cutest little mustache."

"Mustache?" She touched a finger to her upper lip.

"Made out of cocoa, right—there."

He leaned over and gave her a sweeping kiss.

"David," she said, pressing back on his chest, "if you start that all over again, I'll never get you to leave."

"That's precisely what I'm counting on." And he kissed