Real Romance - By Ginny Baird Page 0,5

days." She grimaced. "Much less five years."

"Excuse me..."

Marie felt her skin go hot as a deep familiar voice rose over Joanne's shoulder.

"Could you ladies tell me where to find—"

Joanne stepped aside and there he was. A vision in trim white jeans and a navy sweatshirt that did nothing to conceal the raw power that lay beneath it.

"Well, what a surprise." He smiled and sent the whole room spiraling. "Marie, isn't it? Marie McCloud?" Oceans of blue crinkled slightly at their corners as the wave of his stare crashed over her.

"Umm, hmm," was all Marie could manage in the drowning silence.

Joanne whistled between her teeth and walked back into the store without saying a word.

"Friend of yours?" David asked, placing his hand up on the wall near Marie's head and inclining his body in her direction.

Speak, Marie willed herself. Say something. Anything. "You've got quite a memory for names, Mr.—"

"Actually, it's the faces I remember best," he said, dropping his chin a fraction lower. Not to mention that her body was one David couldn't forget. Somewhere beneath that fuzzy, wool sweater and modestly swishy skirt lay a very womanly form. He'd seen it at least a million times since Thursday. In his daydreams, that is.

"David," he offered with a smile. "The name is David. David Lake. The optician, remember?"

As if Marie could forget

"Although I don't think we were ever officially introduced."

She looked up at him with those big brown eyes and blinked. "Well, then, you had me at a disadvantage."

Not as much as he would have liked.

A fine wash of color was working its way across her face, but she stood her ground—burgundy suede boots planted firmly in place, daring him with her damnably intoxicating eyes.

"Sorry about that," he said. "Not many clients are really all that interested in knowing my name."

"I doubt that," she said, stunned at where that courage had come from. Flirting! She was flirting with the most godlike male she'd laid eyes on in a decade and her fiancé was right in the next room!

"Excuse me..." said another familiar voice.

Marie swung her head around and choked. "Cecil!" she said, coughing past the lump in her throat.

"Jeez, Marie," he said, leaning forward and giving her arm a little squeeze. "Just going to the stock room. You look like you've seen a ghost!"

He gave David a curious glance. "You be sure she gives you good service, now! If there's anyone here who can get you what you want, it's Marie." Then he slipped between them and headed for the back of the store.

Marie didn't worry about blushing in front of David anymore. She was sure, by now, that he assumed crimson was her natural color.

In light of what had just transpired, David seemed remarkably nonchalant. He just propped his hand back up on the wall in its pre-warmed spot and smiled sweetly.

"Is he always that friendly?" David asked.

No, she'd been wrong. His hand wasn't propped exactly where it had been before. It was higher now. Off center. In a way that enabled him to stand even closer than the first time. Close enough to leave Marie completely overcome by his delectable aroma. The manly scent that would intoxicate her, if he'd only stay near.

"Pardon?" she asked. Knowing, just knowing, that whatever he'd said had flown right past her. Boy, this was bad. Badder than bad. She had to find a way out of here so she could think!

"Cecil."

"Cecil? You know him?"

A rich, bubbling laughter erupted from his chest. "No, not really." David paused and cocked one eyebrow. "But he sure seemed to know you. Boyfriend?"

"No," Marie said, biting her bottom lip. "I mean, friends, yeah, sure. Good ol' Cecil is friends with the world!" Never once in the past five years had she lied about her relationship with Cecil. But since those feelings were now so unclear, was it really lying at this point?

"Yeah, I know his type," David said in a conspiratorial whisper. "Regular Don Juan."

"What?" Marie ducked her head and inched back a step so David no longer held her prisoner.

David dropped his arm to his side. She'd gone from embarrassed red to positively white. "Did I say something to upset you?"

"No. Not at all." Marie felt the heat well within her like an exploding volcano. "It's just that Cecil..." She gave a noncommittal laugh.

"Oh, I know," David said, his eyes wide with amazement. "Not what you'd expect at all. But I guess it's romantic to look like a starving artist. I've heard some people find that