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“You’re a constant surprise, Jensen Kershaw.”
Silence stretched between them before he said, “What is this that brings me to my knees? You whip through me like a breeze. Yet I feel the answer in my soul. You make me delightfully whole. Like a sorcerer, I conjure the world away, and my heart can do no other than obey. For my body follows the route of love, as the heavens command me from above. Take me as I am, my love, and let our souls fly to the sun.”
Marquetta’s mouth dropped open. Had he just recited poetry to her? Yes, he definitely had. Christ almighty, she was ready to melt into a damned puddle at his feet. “Who wrote that? It’s beautiful.”
Jensen couldn’t believe he’d just said those words aloud. It had just poured right out of him. He really was going soft for the woman. “I must have read it somewhere.” Never in a million years would he tell her he’d written it himself.
Her gaze narrowed. “You remembered the poem word for word, yet you don’t know the poet?”
He shook his head. “Whatever. I feel like we’re getting off the subject here.”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I sort of like this subject.”
The last thing he wanted was to get into his poetry. It was too personal. No one knew about it, not even Jason. “What about you?”
“You already know what I do for a living.”
“The images you paint, they’re pretty impressive. It’s not your normal career path, though.”
“No, it isn’t, but I’ve always enjoyed art.”
Immediately, Marquetta appeared to close down. Jensen couldn’t figure out what he’d said wrong. “I imagine it’s a damn sight more interesting than charts and financial data,” he said, hoping to get her talking about herself a little more.
“I suppose so, yes. I think I was one of the few people in college who knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what they wanted to do with their life. Painting has always been my first love.”
Jensen thought about that comment. “I’m surprised you didn’t move on to bigger and better things after graduating. Someone with your talent could be raking it in, I’d think.”
“If I’d actually graduated, yes. As it turns out, college and I were a bit like oil and water. We didn’t mix.”
“I see. Do you regret it?”
“I regret a lot of things,” she replied.
Her answer was evasive, and Jensen wondered why. He recalled the conversation he’d had with her brother Axel at the bar. He’d hinted that Marquetta had been
hurt in the past. Had it been during her college days? And though he wanted to probe for more, instinct told him that he’d lose her if he pushed too hard. Instead, Jensen leaned forward and dropped his voice to a seductive whisper. “Do you regret going out with me, Marquetta?”
Her face flushed pink, and Jensen’s cock thickened at the pretty sight. “No. I’ve enjoyed myself tonight.” She paused a moment before adding, “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
“My pleasure,” he murmured as he stared at a little dot of whipped cream at the corner of her mouth. He touched her cheek, enjoying the soft texture of her skin, and said, “You have a little spot right here…” Then he kissed her.
It was a light peck and not at all the hot, scorching kiss he ached to plant on her. He lifted his head and said, “There, all gone.”
“T-thank you.” She cleared her throat. “So, tell me, how in the world did you come up with your maid-service idea?”
“Well, I admit there were a few beers involved.” He winked. “But once I got my head around the notion, it just sort of felt…right.”
She shook her head. “For some reason, you seem less like a housekeeper and more like a motorcycle gang member.”
He gave her hand a squeeze. “And you look more like a cover model,” he murmured. “I guess it’s true, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.”
She looked over and saw the time on the wall. Eleven p.m. The coffee shop was open all night, but Marquetta knew that she needed to end their date soon; otherwise, she was going to lose the willpower to do so.
Jensen followed her line of sight and groaned. “Time’s up, huh?”
“I do have to be at work early tomorrow,” she said. “I had a good time, though.”
A half hour later, Marquetta let herself into her house, then turned around. Jensen leaned against the porch railing. He’d insisted on following her to be sure she made it home safely. “You really didn’t have to escort me to my door. I’m a grown woman, Jensen.”
