Long, Slow Surrender Read online

  There was an invitation in her eyes, clearly telling him she was willing to share more than a little something sweet. His mouth filled with the memory of her taste. He slowly put his fork down, then placed his napkin on the table. “Speaking of extra work, I have a shift to pick up that starts early in the morning.” He stood.

  “Maybe some other time then,” she murmured.

  He closed his eyes, wondering how he should handle this. Could he make love to her, discover all the warmth and heat that lay under her cool exterior? He liked to think of her as cool and unfeeling. That made her untouchable and safe. The thought of her hazel eyes brimming with passion scared the hell out of him.

  The next morning, he’d wake up and have to look himself in the mirror, with Theodore’s scent lingering in the air once more.

  “You have a strange sense of honor, Connor.”

  For a moment, he feared he’d spoken his inner thoughts aloud. She looked small and lonely as she stared out the window at the city.

  His hands clenched. “Better strange than none, right?”

  She exhaled softly. “You have this role in your head that you think you have to play, but you’ve outgrown it.”

  “Actually, it’s not a role. I just learned to accept who I am. Someone always has to take second place, Michelle.”

  “Connor, you could never be second place. You are so much more than that.”

  His heart shifted in chest. Heart shifting was not good. “Look, I appreciate the vote of confidence. It’s nice. But I really enjoy my life. You don’t have to feel the need to change it for me.”

  “You could do more,” she responded quietly.

  He thought about laughing, but she might take it the wrong way. No, he couldn’t do more. He’d tried to live up to Theodore. That hadn’t worked. And now there was Michelle. “And that’s the difference between the two of us, isn’t it? You’re like a fairy-tale princess who locked herself into some ivory tower far away from the real world. I like my world, though. I don’t want more.”

  Michelle spun around, her gaze fixed on him. She looked to be on the verge of tears. Damn it. “I’m going to paint my apartment yellow.”

  “Where did that idea come from?” He looked at the pale walls, and subtle prints. “Isn’t that a little extreme?”

  “Yellow, Connor. Bright yellow.” Her bottom lip turned up, and she planted her hands on her hips. Her soft hazel eyes were hot.

  He needed to go home. Now. He took a step toward the door. “Yellow would be a good look. I have to go.”

  She followed him. The sound of her stocking covered feet sliding over the tile was an oddly intimate sound that he didn’t want to hear.

  Unfortunately, she wasn’t done with him yet. “You’re using Theodore as a shield, Connor.”

  “Maybe I am. But it is for the best.”

  “Is the thought of making love to me so frightening?”

  The thought of making love to her was pure bliss. But Michelle carried a high price. I’d just disappoint you, Michelle. Been there, done that. “I don’t want to get seriously involved with anyone” is how he actually responded.

  “Maybe I don’t either.”

  “You’re not that sort of woman,” he said, wanting to get out of this conversation quickly. It was getting harder and harder to remember why he should leave.

  “And that’s the only sort of woman you ever get involved with, right? However, I don’t recall saying that I wanted to marry you,” she stated in a quiet voice.

  “No, that would definitely mean that hell has frozen over, wouldn’t it? He placed his hand on the doorknob and twisted.

  “Connor.” She placed a hand on his back.

  He looked deep into her eyes, seeing concern and pity in them. The pity is what annoyed him.

  “What’s the matter? None of your usual in-crowd giving you any? You want to get laid?” he uttered the words, trying to sound like saying them didn’t kill him.

  Shit.

  He had to leave. Now.

  “Good-bye, Michelle,” he said, closing the door behind him. But instead of walking away, he just stood there, staring at the impenetrable barrier separating them.

  No. He couldn’t leave it like this.

  “Michelle?”

  “Go away, Connor,” she said from behind the door.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have. Now go away.”

  Connor stuffed his hands in his pockets and made his way toward the stairs. Give it up, Sakuma. He spun on his heel and turned back. “Would quiche help?”

  “What?”

  “If I made you a quiche, would it help?”

  “No.”

  He had just descended the first couple of steps when she opened the door a crack.

  “But you might want to try it anyway.”

  Chapter Seven

  The smoke alarm wouldn’t stop blaring. Connor fanned the alarm with a towel. The burnt culprit sat on the counter, still smoking. It was a complete disaster. The oven door was closed, but residual smoke still wafted from it. Yeah, he’d really screwed up this time.

  The door to the kitchen slammed open, almost sounding as though it was coming of its hinges. Now what? Connor took one last look at the complete mess surrounding him then looked up. Dustin, who was currently trying to earn his culinary arts degree as well, stood there with a bewildered look on his face.

  “What the hell is going on, man?”

  Hundreds of smart-ass remarks sprang into Connor’s mind, but he remembered his resolution. For today, I will not be a jerk. “Nothing. I have it under control,” he answered.

  Dustin came further into the kitchen. “I called nine-one-one.”

  Sirens blared down the street.

  “I have everything under control,” Connor shouted, to be heard over all the noise. As though he burned food in the school’s kitchen every day.

  Dustin stepped closer to the burnt smoking disaster sitting on the kitchen counter. The fire alarm still screeched loudly. “What are you trying to make?” Dustin yelled. “I haven’t seen this much smoke since you tried to make quiche—”

  Anything else that Dustin was going to say was cut off by the sound of heavy boots pounding into the room. The fire department was there.

  Connor grimaced and held up a hand as a team of fireman approached. “Sorry, guys, but everything is okay this time. I have everything under control.” Connor hoped the captain would ignore the blaring alarm.

  The captain looked around slowly. “You sure about that?”

  Connor emitted what he hoped was a confident laugh. “Yeah. Just a little accident with the oven.”

  The fireman studied him, a question in his eyes.

  The alarm stopped. For which he was forever grateful. He owed whoever shut it off big time for that. Connor nodded once more.

  “Cooking?”

  Connor felt a warm flush travel up his neck that had nothing to do with the heat from the kitchen. “Baking.”

  The fireman’s face split into a huge grin. “You wouldn’t believe how many calls we get like this.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  The captain became serious. “We need to take a look around in here, but it won’t take too long.” After a thorough and quick inspection, the captain spoke to Connor. “Try to be more careful next time.”

  “I will, sir. I promise.”

  Connor waved until the men were out of sight and then leaned heavily against the counter. Now he had to deal with Dustin, a huge mess, and a smoky kitchen. Time to get back to it.

  Dustin leaned around to look at the incriminating burning evidence. “I see you are trying your hand at quiche again.”

  Dustin picked up a fork and poked at the blackened quiche. Connor found a clean spot on the counter before hopping up onto it. He ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. The quiche was history. There was a reason he didn’t like to bake. “Drop it, Dustin.”

  Dustin stared a
t the burnt food, then back at Connor, then back at the burnt food. “You need a lot of assistance when it comes to making quiche.”

  That was the understatement of the year. He started to laugh, half on the verge of a serious mental collapse, half in humor. It would take more than carbonized quiche to dampen his hopes. Connor inhaled deeply. The day was still young.

  “Yes, I do, and I know just the person to help me.”

  * * * *

  Michelle allowed herself to sleep in an extra ten minutes and woke up the next morning at 6:10 a.m. That was just enough time for her to do everything she needed to do and get ready and still be at work by eight. She had just finished dressing when there was a knock on the door. One of her neighbors? When she opened the door, no one was there, just a food tray with a covered dish on top. She looked around, but did see anything. She bent over to open the lid and laughed. Ham, tomato, and Swiss cheese quiche. There was a note attached.

  Michelle,

  Ham, tomato, and Swiss cheese quiche, Day One. Please leave the container and tray outside the door when you are finished. Don’t worry about cleaning them when you’re done. I’ll take care of that as well. Also, if you could grade me by checking the appropriate boxes below.

  ð Too much salt

  ð Not enough salt

  ð Well cooked

  ð Not cooked enough

  ð Crust too flaky

  ð Crust not flaky enough

  ð Perfect

  I’m sorry, Michelle.

  See you soon,

  Connor

  She ate the quiche, marked the “not enough salt” box, just to knock him off kilter, and put the tray back outside her apartment door. She wished things were different between her and Connor. And if she had her way, they would be. His apology was a great start.

  Michelle,

  Ham, tomato, and Swiss cheese quiche, Day Two. I added more salt, but it tasted really salty to me. Tell me what you think. Also, I’m leaving you a gift card to the bistro around the corner from your job. You really out to try it.

  ð Too much salt

  ð Still not enough salt

  ð Not quite as mad at Connor

  ð Still mad at Connor

  ð Perfect

  Talk to you soon,

  Connor

  Michelle,

  Ham, tomato, and Swiss cheese quiche, Day Three. All right, I think I have the quiche mix right. Since you’re still mad, I made hash browns as well. They turned out pretty good.

  ð Add bell pepper (for the hash browns)

  ð Add onion (for the hash browns)

  ð Not enough salt (for the hash browns)

  ð Still extremely mad at Connor

  ð Still mad at Connor

  ð Hash browns were a step in the right direction

  ð Perfect

  Talk to you soon,

  Connor

  Michelle,

  Ham, tomato, and Swiss cheese quiche and hash browns, Day Four. Do you think I should add some cheese or country gravy to the hash browns? Or maybe both?

  ð Want cheese and gravy

  ð I hate gravy. Why didn’t you know that?

  ð Forget the cheese

  ð Forget Connor

  ð Still mad at Connor

  ð Only slightly mad at Connor

  Talk to you soon,

  Connor

  Michelle,

  Ham, tomato, and Swiss cheese quiche and hash browns, Day Five. I can tell I’m on the right track. Your checkmarks didn’t seem as violent yesterday. Glad you are enjoying the hash browns. I added a cup of coffee today.

  ð Didn’t like the coffee

  ð Milk is better

  ð Apple juice is most preferred

  ð Orange juice

  ð Starting to forgive Connor

  ð Connor is still an ass

  Talk to you soon,

  Connor

  * * * *

  “Well, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine this morning? Looks like somebody is finally getting some.” Julia perched herself on Michelle’s desk, attired in a dress that made her look like Audrey Hepburn.

  “If by ‘getting some’ you mean breakfast, then yes, you are correct.”

  “A man is making breakfast for you?”

  Michelle rolled her eyes at Julia’s tone of disbelief. “Only for the past five days. Ham, tomato, and Swiss cheese quiche, hash browns and coffee.” Connor was coming around to her way of thinking. She was sure of it.

  “Wow, Theodore Sakuma is something else, isn’t he?”

  “I wasn’t referring to Theodore. I meant Connor. Connor is the one making me breakfast.”

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  “No, I’m not.” Michelle smiled, quite proud of herself. “He gave me a gift card, too.” And today, she was going to try the bistro next door. As much as she’d always wanted to, she couldn’t find the motivation.

  “Interesting…sounds like he does have romantic feelings toward you. I mean, I know Connor is a chef and all, but the fact that he has personally made you breakfast all week says something.” Julia looked at her over the rim of her glasses at Michelle. “So, is he a good cook? I have yet to manage to make it be the restaurant he works at.”

  “Connor is an excellent cook.”

  Julia was clearly impressed. “Good to know. However, do those skills transfer over to the bedroom?”

  “Julia, that is none of your business.”

  Julia’s expression fell. “He’s not, is he? Damn. The attractive ones are always too confident. Give me what I’m looking for and we’ll worry about what you need if there is time.”

  Michelle was not happy with Julia’s assumption of Connor. “You are way off the mark. What I have experienced with Connor is mind-blowing. He gives great long kisses.”

  “Kissing? That’s it?”

  “The rest is just around the corner, so don’t you worry.”

  “Good deal, lady. Connor better watch out. He won’t be able to resist you with your goal of getting him into your boudoir, or you getting into his.”

  The statement earned a frown from Michelle. Neither would happen if she couldn’t keep Theodore “I’m An Old Stick-in-the-Mud” Sakuma from getting in the way again. Her plan to set him up with someone else had to work. “To be honest, I’ve never really seduced a man before.”

  Julia’s eyes widened behind the frame of her lenses. “Really?”

  Michelle tapped her pen on the desk. “Have you ever seduced a man?”

  “Hundreds of them.”

  “Hundreds?” Michelle looked at Julia with skepticism.

  “Well, two. Maybe three if you count Bryan Kerr.”

  “Tell me what works.”

  “Aggression. A take no prisoners attitude. You have to look him square in the eye, and say, ‘I want you in my bed, now.’” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “It’s never failed me. Except for Bryan, but he’s gay, and I didn’t know it until Fawn told me, and then I didn’t want to believe her. But when he turned me down, and I had on my eff me skirt and heels, I knew it was true.”

  “What are ‘eff me’ heels and skirt?”

  “A skirt that is flouncy and short, to the point that you can’t wear underwear or it would absolutely have to be a thong. The heels would have to be so high that one false move and you could fall over.”

  No underwear?

  Michelle inhaled sharply, thinking about the panty hose and discreet beige underwear that she had on underneath her dress. She didn’t know about going completely without underwear. That would be too extreme for her. The thong idea didn’t sound much better, but she might be able to wing it. Either way, it felt wicked. She glanced at her open office door. “And anyone can see?”

  “Yes, but only if they are looking. You definitely want to be sure to give the person the outfit it is meant for a reason to look.”

  Maybe Julia was on to something here. “I bet princesses don’t do this, do they?”

  “No, a prince
ss doesn’t have the guts.” Julia stood up, file folder in hand. “What do you have in mind?”

  Michelle started drawing on the paper in front of her. Short skirts with panty lines and short skirts without undergarments. She exhaled heavily and marked a big circle around the doodles. “I’m thinking I never liked being a pegged as a princess anyway.”

  * * * *

  On Thursday, Connor was dying to pick up the phone and call Michelle. She wanted an affair. He wanted an affair. Neither one of them was looking for a serious relationship. That’d be a major joke.

  Regardless, this was Michelle, and all the smooth moves, all the lines Connor had ever used, just didn’t seem to be right for this situation. For the first time in his life, Connor had no idea what to do. Michelle needed romance and Connor wanted to give her that. But how?

  All week he’d been plagued by dreams. Michelle was being debriefed about her case finding, wrapped in nothing but one of the satin sheets off her bed. He kept waiting for the sheet to slip lower, but it never did. She answered every question with poise and confidence. Looking every bit like the superb professional that she was. How could a man stay sane with such a provocative image plaguing him?

  Connor couldn’t. Nor did he want to. Maybe there was a way to make this work out after all. It took a very strong man to walk away from such a woman. Connor wasn’t that man. He reached for the phone.

  * * * *

  The California courtroom was magnificent and imposing. Michelle enjoyed coming to observe and absorb the process of justice. It was one of the main reasons she loved her job.

  The lawyer for Royal Cleaning Company was Kerry Monroe from Proctor and Russo. Michelle had heard of him, but had never seen him in action. He was one of those high-dollar, sharpshooter attorneys. She opened up her purse and grabbed a pen and small notepad while trying not to smile. Her friend Philip Berman was up against the big boys. Yet, she wasn’t worried. Knowing Philip the way that she did, neither was he. She allowed one corner of her mouth to curve upward for Philip since she knew that he couldn’t.