A soft smile dawned on her face. “Nope. Not married.”
Even though he’d guessed she wasn’t, a feeling of lightness fill him at her confirmation.
She looked at her watch. “I’m sorry. I have to get going. I have an early meeting scheduled in the morning.”
Mark nodded and pulled out his wallet.
She waved him off when he attempted to look at the check. “No, my treat. I invited you.”
“I’ve got money.”
“Yes, but I know times are tough for you now.”
“Listen, I don’t need your damn charity or your pity.” He pulled some bills out of his wallet and threw them on the table. “That should cover the tab.” He rose, backing away from the booth, but stopped, unable to leave like this. Stepping up to the table, he leaned over and brushed his lips over hers in the briefest of kisses. “Sorry. I just had to do that. It’s been good seeing you again, Jessie.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Mark stirred the scrambled eggs, scraping the cooked portions from the bottom of the pan. The toaster popped, and he snatched the slices and buttered them before they could cool.
The pan and the toaster had both been recent purchases at the thrift store. His kitchen was now stocked with a hodge-podge of plates, cups and silverware. Tilting the pan, he scooped the eggs onto a plate. In the brig, he had vowed to never eat scrambled eggs again, but eggs were cheap. Finances won out over aversions, and after the second or third time, they started tasting good again. As he added the toast to the plate, there was a knock on the door.
He glanced at the clock, figuring it must be Bud. He was the only person who ever stopped by, but he wondering what had made the landlord get out of bed before ten o’clock on a Saturday morning. Maybe Bud had another apartment that needed painting. Mark hoped so. His wallet could sure use some extra padding. He sucked a buttery crumb off his finger as he opened the door. “Hey Bu-”
“Hello, Mark.”
“Jessie?” He wiped his fingers on his pants and stepped forward, pulling the door partially closed so that his body filled the threshold. “How’d you find me?”
She smiled. “I’m a detective, remember?” She held a box, and shifted her weight, hiking the box up to get a better grip.
“Yeah, but, I mean, why are you here?” Stunned, he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. The hurt in her eyes made him cringe. “Sorry. I’m just surprised.”
Jessie ducked her head and nodded. When she lifted it, her face had a pleasant, overly bright smile. “That’s okay. I had a couple of reasons for stopping by. May I come in?”
The paint job and rug had helped make the room livable, but they couldn’t work miracles and he felt heat creeping into his face. “Uh, sure.” He moved back, allowing her to get past him. “Come on in.”
Her smile warmed. “Thanks.” She crossed to the sofa and set the box on it. Flexing her fingers as she glanced around, she nodded at the wall. “Nice shade of blue. And something smells wonderful.”
“I just made some eggs…want some? There’s plenty.” He hated the note of eagerness that had crept into his voice. It made him sound needy, but he did have plenty of eggs.
“Oh no, I’m not hungry, but you go ahead and eat.” A suspicious gurgle sounded loud in the room, and her hand flew to her stomach as her eyes went wide.
He grinned. “You sure you’re not hungry?”
Her face turned crimson, but she laughed. “Guilty. I lied. I’m starving and it smells great in here.”
“Have a seat.” He gestured to the table just outside the kitchen. “I’ll just stick some more bread in the toaster.” He went to the kitchen before she changed her mind. After putting the toast down, he opened the fridge, and ducked his head in to see how much juice he had left. Satisfied there was enough to offer, he turned to ask if she wanted that or milk, but found her right behind him, her mouth level with his. All it would take was for him to lean forward just a fraction, and he could kiss her. He fought the impulse. She didn’t need someone like him in her life.
Her face flushed, but she held ground for a second. Eyes wide, they flashed to his before she averted hers and stepped towards the sink. “I…I just wanted to wash my hands first.” She spread her fingers and held them up.
He cleared his throat. “Right. Go ahead. I was just wondering what you wanted to drink. I have O.J. or milk.”
“Orange juice sounds good.” She dried her hands on a dishtowel, folded it, and set it neatly on the counter.
The toast popped while he was pouring two glasses. Before he could react, she reached over and began buttering the slices. The simple domestic act made him catch his breath. He shook it off. Long suppressed emotions bubbled inside, seeking exit, but he held on tight.
She looked around for somewhere to set the toast, and raised her eyes to his, questioning.
The cabinet where he kept his plates was right behind her, so he stepped close and reached over her head.
Her arm skimmed against his chest as she turned to see what he was doing. A shiver swept through him at the contact, and he almost dropped the plate.
She skirted around him, putting the toast on the plate as she went. “Sorry. I guess I’m in the way.”
“No. You’re fine.”
After brushing her hands together, she shoved them in the front pockets of her jeans. The action pulled her blouse tight and he had to drag his eyes away.
Her quick retreat to the other side of the kitchen didn’t escape his notice. Trying to recover his composure, he took the pan off the stove and added the rest of the eggs to the new plate. “Come on, let’s go eat while it’s still hot.” His voice was more gruff than he intended.
Nodding, she took the plate he offered. He tore a couple of paper towels off the roll to use for napkins, grabbed the glasses of juice, and followed her around the corner to the table.
She took a bite. “This is good, Mark.”
“Thanks.” He shrugged. “It’s just eggs.” Pleasure surged through him at her compliment. It wasn’t just about the food. It was how she glanced around the apartment with interest, and not a hint of condescension, or worse, pity. She might not want to be close to him, but at least she had stayed to eat with him.
Jessie sipped her juice. “So, to answer your earlier question, I came by with some of your stuff I told you about.”
“My stuff?” He dropped his fork on the plate with a clatter and shot a look at the box. With all the things they had talked about that night at O’Leary’s, he’d forgotten that she had mentioned rescuing some of his things.
“Most of it’s there. There are a couple of lenses that were cracked. Since the box was full, I left them at my place. I can bring those by another time.”
He didn’t have money to repair cracked lenses so they could wait, but he’d grab at any excuse to get her to come by again, so he just nodded.” That would be great.”
His leg bounced, jostling the juice and rattling his fork on the plate. It was all he could do to remain seated, so bad did he want to tear through the box right then and there. He took another bite of eggs, but he was no longer hungry. Instead, he felt like a kid on Christmas morning and couldn’t keep from sneaking peeks at the box as they continued eating.
She laughed. “Go ahead and look. I won’t be offended to be left finishing my meal alone.” Another smile took any possible sting out of the comment.
“I’m sorry…it’s just…well, it means a lot to me.” How to explain to her that it was more than just some photo equipment? It was like getting a part of himself back.
Mark jumped up from the table and reached the sofa in two long strides. He lifted the box and set it on the floor as he sat on the edge of the couch. His heart raced and he had to wipe his hands on his thighs. With a deep
