Seattle Cinderella Part 18

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Practicing holding hands with my girlfriend. You gave me some help with my story, so now I'm going to help with yours. Once we get to the aquarium, we can call it a date."

"A date? But-"

He smiled, making him so handsome her breath caught. "No buts. Call it research. Now let's go be romantic."

Chapter 5.

Zella closed the door with a distinct bang, loud enough to make sure her mother heard her coming in. She kicked off her shoes-her three-inch heels, which for the first time, she'd worn in the presence of a man and still had to look up at him-and sauntered in the door.

Her mother sat on the couch, pretending to read a book that Zella knew she'd already read. She was wearing her favorite bright-pink sweater. And it was clear she was very curious.

Immediately her mother stood. "You must have had a very exciting weekend with Trevor. You didn't get home until midnight last night, you're late again tonight, and you have to get up for work in the morning. Did you have a nice time?"

Zella bit back a grin. Actually she hadn't come home last night until after 1:00 a.m. because after the aquarium closed they'd gone out for supper, then to a late movie, and then to an all-night coffee shop. For the first time, she'd had to set the alarm Sunday morning so she would get up on time. Especially since she'd gone to Trevor's church, not her own.

Today, since they'd been dressed in their church clothes, he'd taken her to a nice restaurant for lunch, then they'd gone to the Museum of Flight, then for dinner, and then to the Seattle Repertory Theatre, where he'd somehow scored tickets to what turned out to be a delightful performance.

Even though she'd concocted the pretend relations.h.i.+p to stop her mother's incessant matchmaking, she'd enjoyed every minute of her time spent with Trevor. They'd even had fun when they pulled off the road on their way home and she'd put her cell phone on speaker to have a three-way conversation with Jeremy, the head pharmacist at the drug store where she worked, about possible fatal side effects from some new pharmaceuticals. "Yes, I've had a lovely weekend. Now if you'll excuse me, as you reminded me, it's past my bedtime and I-"

The electronic tune of her cell phone sang out from her purse. "Excuse me," she muttered as she dug through her purse.

The display showed that it was Jeremy. "I need to take this. Good night, Mom." Zella turned around and flipped it open. "Hi, what's up?" she asked as she walked into her bedroom and shut the door.

She listened intently as Jeremy gave her a list of side effects for one of the medications she'd asked him about.

"That sounds exactly like what he needs to know. Are you sure a person would just get sleepy and not realize he was going to pa.s.s out and never wake up?"

"Positive. I looked up all the side effects and risks in the manufacturer's file."

She couldn't help but smile. "Are you sure it's possible to be fatal?"

"Yes. An overdose would be enough to kill the average adult."

She nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "Then that's perfect. Do you think mixing it in with something spicy, like chili or curry, would mask the taste and a person wouldn't notice their food had been laced?"

Instead of a reply, Jeremy laughed. He'd been quite amused when she'd told him she was starting to write a book and fascinated when she'd explained that she needed to help another friend who was writing a book find a way to murder someone-on paper, anyway.

"Stop it," Zella snickered, barely able to keep from laughing herself. She could hardly believe she was doing this, but she was. "I need to find paper to write this down."

As she pulled the bedroom door open, she caught a flash of pink disappearing around the corner.

Zella nearly groaned. If her mother had thought she was going to hear her exchanging words of love with Trevor after they'd just parted, her mother had another think coming.

She found paper in a drawer and carefully spelled out the name as Jeremy repeated it. "Thanks. I'll see you at work tomorrow. Bye."

Before she changed into her pajamas, Zella texted Trevor the name of the drug Jeremy had researched, smiling as she imagined his reaction.

Just as she hit Send, she wished she could take back her message. Now that Trevor had the information he needed, he would probably be up half the night writing, working the new details into his story. He'd be a wreck all day at work, but he'd be a smiling wreck.

Zella crawled into bed thinking of Trevor's smile and the adorable crinkles at the sides of his beautiful blue eyes. She wished she'd known that killing someone could be such fun.

Once again, Trevor checked the time.

He couldn't call Zella at work because it certainly wasn't an emergency. It wasn't even important. All he wanted was to hear her voice. He didn't have a single thing he needed to say. She'd be working until six o'clock. And if he calculated in the typical Seattle rush-hour traffic, she wouldn't get home until seven.

He didn't want to wait that long to talk to her. He had it bad.

At 7:01, he hit the speed dial b.u.t.ton on his cell phone.

"Hi. It's me." He mentally kicked himself. He was already sounding lame.

She giggled. He froze. Giggled? He held the phone away for a second to be sure he'd called the right person. Not that he knew anyone who would giggle at him.

"Hi, Trevor. I'm soooo glad you called."

"You are?"

"Aw, that was so sweet. Thank you."

It was sweet that he called when he didn't have anything to say? Maybe Sheila was right, maybe he did inhale too much glue and he'd missed part of the conversation. "You're welcome. I guess."

"That's a great idea. I'd like that."

"Uh...Okay..."

"That sounds like fun, too. Sat.u.r.day sounds great."

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and then the lightbulb went on. "Your mother is listening, isn't she?"

"Of course." Her voice lowered, and she sighed. "That sounds so romantic."

His heart picked up speed. He'd give her romantic. He lowered his voice, giving himself a husky edge. "Yeah. And when we get to wherever you think I'm taking you, I'm going to pull you close and hold you tight and kiss you like..." His mind raced. Kiss her like what? He wrote murder mysteries, where people died or lived the length of the story in fear. He didn't write romantic stuff, and he'd never had a serious relations.h.i.+p where he wanted to be romantic. All he'd wanted with previous dates was to have some fun.

But whatever was happening with Zella-even though it hadn't been long since they'd met-was different.

"I'd kiss you like..." He paused. He'd kiss her like a lover. Hard and deep, so she thought about him at night and until the next time they saw each other, so he could kiss her like that again, hidden, away from prying eyes. But he couldn't say that out loud. He cleared his throat. "...like I've wanted to for a long time. Because that's what I want. Romance. Flowers. Flickering candlelight and stolen kisses."

He heard her gasp on the other end of the phone. "Stop that," she whispered.

His palms started to sweat. He hoped that wouldn't compromise the electronic circuits on his cell phone. For the first time in his life, that was what he really wanted. Romance. And he was going to make it happen. Especially the stolen kisses part.

"I'm going to be at your house in twenty minutes for the first one." He made a quick smoochy noise over the phone and flicked it shut.

He ran into the bathroom, brushed his teeth, touched up his deodorant, rammed a pack of spearmint gum in his pocket, and dashed out the door.

He'd promised her romance and stolen kisses, and that was exactly what she was going to get.

Chapter 6.

Numbly, Zella poked at the pile of mashed potatoes on her plate.

"What's the matter?" her mother asked from the other side of the kitchen table. "Did I use too much salt? You'd better hurry and finish your supper if your young man is going to be here soon."

If she hadn't already lost her appet.i.te enough, her stomach lurched, threatening to give up the little she'd managed to eat.

She had no idea what he'd meant by stolen kisses, but she had a bad feeling that he really was on his way, right now, to come and get one.

All she'd wanted to do was make her mother think she was going on another date with him. She'd planned to tell him, with her mother listening, to meet her somewhere. Then the second she got in the car she would have phoned him back to tell him to stay home and do his own thing, and she was going to go to the library. Except he'd completely sidetracked the conversation, and now he was on his way.

For stolen kisses.

"You're going to change, aren't you? You're not going to wear the same thing you wore to work, are you?"

"Actually, I was just going to change into my jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt."

Her mother tsked and pushed her empty plate away. "Regardless of what you're going to wear, it's nice that I'm finally going to meet Trevor. I'd never heard you mention him, and now suddenly you're seeing him almost every day. He must be very special."

She almost told her mother that Trevor was special but then realized where the conversation was headed. If she said Trevor was special, then it wouldn't be long before her mother would start pressing for engagement details. If she said there was nothing special between them, then it would be back to fending off attempts at more blind dates. This was a path she had to tread lightly.

"I'm not sure yet. So far I'm quite fond of him." As the words left her mouth, she realized how very true they were. She might not be falling in love with the man, but she certainly was developing a good friends.h.i.+p. As all the cliches went, they enjoyed most of the same things and peacefully agreed to disagree on those they didn't.

She pushed her plate away. "I really shouldn't eat anything more. Trevor always likes to grab something when we're out, so I don't need two suppers in one day."

Her mother's eyebrows rose. "How much does he eat?"

"Quite a bit. He's a big man."

"Oh dear. I can give him a good diet for men."

Zella sighed. She hadn't realized before how much her mother was hung up on appearances. "Don't worry, Mom, he's not fat; he's just tall and he eats a lot to maintain himself."

"That's good to hear. How about his relatives? Are they healthy? Is anyone on any expensive medication?"

Zella stood to put her plate in the dishwasher, about to ask why her mother would ask such a thing, when the doorbell rang.

"That would be Trevor. I'll get it."

Without looking, she knew her mother was right behind her.

She opened the door to Trevor holding a single pink rose toward her. "This is for you."

"Oh my," her mother gasped from behind her.

Zella forced herself to smile, accepted the flower, and stepped back.

"Mom, this is Trevor."

Trevor looked down at her mother and nodded a greeting. "Good evening, Mrs. Wilson."

Her mother's cheeks darkened, and she straightened and stretched in an unconscious effort to be as tall as possible. Then she made a futile effort to fluff up her hair. "It's actually Mrs. m.u.f.ford. Zella and Annie kept their father's name when I remarried. But Annie's married now, so her last name is different than either of us." She waved one hand in the air in front of her face. "I'm talking too much. Please, just call me Melissa."

He nodded again. "Good evening, Melissa. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Zella was torn between feeling swept off her feet and annoyed that he was overdoing it with the charm. "Let me put this in some water. I'll be right back."

Instead of searching for a vase, she put the rose in water in a tall gla.s.s and dashed back to the door, where now her mother stood talking to Trevor, standing too close and twirling one finger through a lock of her hair.

"I'm ready," she said as she picked up her purse. "Let's go."

Instead of getting into the car, he walked around to the pa.s.senger side, clicked the remote lock, and opened the door for her.

Zella planted her fists on her hips and turned to him. "What are you doing?"

He stood with his hand still on the handle, waiting. "I'm opening the door for a lady."

"Oh brother. And what was with the flower?"

"I thought you liked flowers. You told me on Sunday that if you'd been wearing more comfortable shoes, you'd have wanted to go to the University of Was.h.i.+ngton Botanical Gardens."

"I did. I mean, I do. But I didn't mean for you to go buy me a flower."

One corner of his mouth quirked up. "I didn't buy it. On my way out the door, my neighbor asked me to help her get something she couldn't reach. I told her I couldn't stay for tea because I was on my way here, so she cut a flower from her garden for you and sent me on my way. Did you like it?"

Her heart softened, not because he didn't waste his money on the flower, but that he'd helped his neighbor. "Of course I liked it." She slid into the car, letting him gently close the door for her then watched him jog around to the driver's side to get in.

He turned the key to start the engine, but before he put it into gear, he raised one hand and brushed her cheek with his fingers, making her automatically turn her head toward him.

Before she could ask what he wanted, he lowered his head and brushed a soft kiss to her lips then turned to hold the steering wheel with both hands.

Without thinking about what she was doing, she raised her fingers to her lips. Not that she'd been kissed by many men, but he was a good kisser. Gentle, soft, and just enough to make her wish that it had lasted longer. "What was that for?" she asked with her fingers still in front of her mouth.