A Whisper Of Love Read online

  A Whisper Of Love 1

  * * *

  Erotic Love Story

  A Whisper Of Love 1

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter One

  THE APARTMENT REEKED of paint. Acrid and cloying, it was becoming a borderline health concern with the terrible headache it was causing Anna.

  She'd been living in this tiny one bedroom apartment for the last year, but was only getting around to repainting it now. Most people used their holiday vacation time to relax or catch up with family, but this year all she wanted to do was forget that a thing called Christmas even existed.

  Wrapping all her things in plastic and breaking out the paint and brushes was so far proving to be a good way to keep her brain occupied, but after laying down a coat of primer, she was worried the fumes might be getting to her.

  “Screw it,” she said to no one in particular. Talking to herself had become something of a habit in this lonely apartment. Since leaving Colorado, she'd not really put much effort into going out and meeting new friends, so most of her non-working hours were spent here reading or watching really bad movies on her computer. She hadn't even bothered buying a TV or much in the way of furniture. At least it had been easy to prep the place for painting.

  Dropping her paint roller into a bucket of water, she popped the lid back on the can of primer and did her best to tap it tightly into place. The room would take another coat to cover up the awful lime green that been assaulting her until now, but it needed at least a few hours to dry before she could continue working. Not being able to tolerate the noxious fumes any longer, she decided she needed to get out for a bit, and settled on visiting one of her favorite pastry shops where she could indulge in a few sweet distractions. It meant, of course, dealing with all the holiday nonsense out there, but this particular pastry shop was worth the hassle. She could almost taste the chocolate croissants that always filled her head with images of sitting by the river Seine in Paris. Not that she'd ever been to Paris, or really that far outside of Colorado until she'd moved here, but a girl had to have her dreams.

  Anna tugged off her paint-splattered shirt and tossed it on the floor. She unbuttoned her jeans, old favorites now relegated to things like moving or painting, and squirmed down out of them. These, too, she abandoned near the painting supplies.

  As she walked into the bedroom, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her blonde hair fell just past her shoulders. She'd thought about cutting it again, but she'd always kept it fairly short and thought it was well past time for a change. Her eyes skimmed over the body that stared back at her. She considered herself of fairly average height, and was impressed when she saw how flat her stomach was. She'd been spending a little too much time at the pastry shop but that must have somehow been balancing out against the relatively small appetite she had most days. She'd have to do something about that in the new year. Cutting back on the baked goods and upping the vegetables was probably a good idea, but that was something to work on later. Everyone knew Christmas was not a time for self-discipline.

  Cupping her breasts in her hands, she took a long look at them in the mirror. They still looked young and perky, but they felt somehow heavier. As she lowered her hands and twisted to the side to get another angle, she wondered if they weren't starting to sag just a little bit. It was probably just her imagination. At least, that's what she told herself as she pulled a pink V-neck merino sweater over her bra-less chest.

  She was just going to the bakery and then coming back home. Her breasts weren't big enough to bounce around awkwardly if she didn't wear a bra, and to be honest, she just really liked the way the soft expensive wool felt on her bare skin. Besides, the pastry shop had a few cute boys working there, and they always gave her the biggest pieces in return for her giving them a little visual treat.

  She slipped into a slightly cleaner pair of jeans, pulled on a pair of thick woolen socks, and spent the next fifteen minutes trying to find her jacket, gloves, scarf, and hat from the random corners of the room she'd thrown them in when she'd come home last night.

  Suitably dressed for the chilly dampness of a winter day in Seattle, she slipped her feet into the rubber boots that could only be fashionable in a city that saw this much rain, and left her apartment.

  Chapter Two

  IN THE FRONT LOBBY, she reflexively stopped at her mailbox and slid the key into the lock. Did the postal carriers work even on Christmas? She almost never got personal mail, but it was worth cleaning the junk out every few days.

  As she expected, a small pile of envelopes had accumulated since she'd last checked. Cable TV promotion. Garbage. Electronics store flyer. Garbage. Gym membership renewal form. Did she even belong to a gym here? Garbage.

  The next envelope was addressed to her personally, and an electric pang shot through her stomach when she recognized the handwriting. She didn't need to look at the return address to know that this had come from Joe.

  Shoving the rest of her mail back into the empty mailbox so she wouldn't have to deal with it, she stared at the envelope for a moment before turning it over to tear open the flap.

  Inside was a card. A small cabin sat nestled in the forest in front of a frozen lake, a wisp of smoke drifting away from the chimney. A full moon hung high in the sky, and snow fell through the evening light. A thin dusting of glitter coated the treetops, and when she opened the card to read the inside, she could already feel it coming loose and covering her fingertips.

  Dear Anna,

  I hope this Christmas finds you well and happy. Carla and I want to wish you all the best in your new life in Seattle and want you to know that we miss you here. We have some great news, and I wanted you to hear it from us first, but we're expecting our first child! We're very excited and hope that you can be happy for us, too.

  We'll both always love you,

  Joe and Carla

  “Merry Christmas to me,” she said to the empty lobby, surprising even herself with how acid her tone was.

  Anna tore the card in two and shoved it in with the rest of the junk. Locking the mailbox door, she turned away and hurried out into the street. A light misty drizzle fell from the sky, making the temperature feel much colder than it actually was. She shivered and zipped her jacket up a little farther. Tucking her chin into her scarf, she pushed her hands into her pockets and walked quickly to the bus stop.

  She needed to get the hell away from here, she thought to herself as the bus pulled up in front of her. She needed to get away from this whole stupid holiday.

  She'd moved out here to get away from Joe and Carla, and now here was the news that not only were they living happily ever after—her happily ever after no less—but now they were adding a child into that. She tried not to picture the two of them in the red brick bungalow right across the street from her parents' house. That was a big part of the reason she'd stayed in Seattle alone instead of flying back to be with her family. Every time she looked out the window she would have had to see that house and know that the woman she once considered her best friend was now living there with the man who was supposed to be her husband.

  It's not that she could really blame Carla for what happened. It had been messy all around, but Anna knew that they really did love each other. In a lot of ways, Carla was still the closest thing she had to a best friend, she just hadn't talked to her more than two or three times in the last year.

  Looking up and down the street, she cursed the efficiency of the postal service for delivering that card instead of losing it somewhere in their system. This holiday was already bad enough without having to deal with the mental image of what her life would probably have been if things hadn't gone sideways.

  "Look at me now,” she said to the empty bus shelter, staring out at the dull grey sky and miserable drizzle.

  Chapter Three

  THE BUS WAS warm and dry after the miserable weather that seemed dead set on living up to Seattle's infamous reputation. Anna slipped off her gloves to slide her ticket into the machine, and surveyed the bus. It was surprisingly busy, but she was happy to see a free spot about halfway back. She had to move carefully from handhold to handhold as she tried to make her way along the narrow aisle. The bus driver seemed to be in a hurry and had floored the accelerator, causing the bus to lurch forward and make it extremely difficult for her to walk without falling over.

  As she reached the empty seat, she heard the squeal of the brakes when the bus reached its next stop. She had just started twisting herself around so she could sit when the bus swerved towards the curb, sending her sideways into the man occupying the other seat in the pair. She reached out blindly to stop herself from falling and felt her palm connect with something solid before sliding off. A strong hand clasped her bicep and help her gently recover her balance. Still partly in his grasp, she slid down into the seat.

  Anna's cheeks flushed deep red with embarrassment, and she mumbled a thank you while trying to pretend to be completely absorbed in the gloves she clutched tightly in her lap. City buses were usually very warm to compensate for the dreary weather outside, but this bus felt like it was being heated by some sort of super-furnace powered by the sun. She tugged at her scarf and unzipped her jacket a little.

  "Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine," she snapped. It came out a lot more obnoxiously
than she'd meant it to. She often got irritable when she was embarrassed. It was something about being out of control of her emotions that she just couldn't deal with.

  "Okay," he chuckled. "I hate these bus drivers. They're always in such a hurry to get from one stop to the next. It's almost as though they completely forget that the whole point of a bus is to carry people around. I once fell flat on my face at the front of the bus when the driver took off too fast."

  She surprised herself with a giggle. The image of a grown man falling down in front of a busload of people had caught her by surprise. She turned to look at the man, and the giggle faded into an awkward shocked silence that she tried to cover up with a fake cough.

  He was cute! Cute wasn't even the right word for it. He was handsome and mischievous and charming all at once. His dusty blonde hair jutted out at odd angles, he looked like he hadn't shaved since the day before, and he wore a bright red bandana tied around his neck in a way that would have made most guys just look stupid. On him though, it was ridiculously masculine.

  "Sorry that I was so rude just then," she said when she found her voice again. "It's not your fault I fell, I've just... I'm having a really bad day."

  "Not to worry, I've had my share of those." He smiled and it lit up his eyes. Anna didn't know a person could have eyes that shade of green. It was like staring into a forest on warm summer day. They were the kind of eyes that invited instant trust. Dangerous eyes.

  "I just found out my ex and my best friend are having a baby together," she blurted. Oh god, why was she telling this to a stranger? "I found out they were seeing each other last year. Christmas Eve actually." She swallowed painfully as unwelcome tears began rolling down her cheeks.

  The stranger reached into an inside jacket pocket and pulled out a silk handkerchief. He held it out to her, and, not knowing what else to do, she took it and wiped away the tears. What kind of man carries a silk handkerchief these days?

  "Listen to me blubbering," she laughed nervously. "I bet you're wishing you'd missed the bus today, huh?"

  "No, not at all," he said. "You're a lot better company than the drunk guy who was sitting there before you. I was worried he was going to throw up on me, and all you've done so far is punch me in the face and cry a little bit."

  Anna blushed crimson.

  "I am so sorry," she said. "I didn't realize I'd hit you like that..."

  "Really, it's fine." He placed his hand on her arm and squeezed gently. There was a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. "Accidents happen, and as far as accidents go, you're not so bad."

  She didn't think she could handle looking into those eyes one second longer and dropped her gaze to her lap. She noticed his hands were covered in paint.

  "Are you a painter?" she asked.

  "It pays the bills, yeah."

  "Maybe you can give me some tips then? I'm painting my apartment right now and I'm learning that I'm no professional." She held up her primer covered hands as evidence.

  "I'm not exactly that kind of painter," he said. "I'm more at home on canvas. I'm not even sure I'd know what to do if I had to deal with a wall. Actually, yes I do. I'd pay someone else for that."

  "Oh, you're, like... an artist?" She cringed inwardly. Could she sound any more stupid?

  "Yeah, something like that."

  A computerized voice announced the next stop and Anna realized it was hers.

  "This is me." She reached across him to pull the stop cord. He nodded a silent goodbye as she rose to her feet and moved to the exit. As the bus doors swung open, she realized she was still clutching the handkerchief.

  "Oh, I still have..." she held it up for him to see.

  "Keep it," he replied. "Consider it an early Christmas present."

  Anna smiled and stepped off the bus. She tucked the handkerchief into her pocket and walked off towards the pastry shop.

  Chapter Four

  SHE STOOD SURVEYING the offerings on hand in Pâtisserie La Parisienee. The small shop was very busy with holiday shoppers taking a mid-morning break, or those coming in to buy an assortment of sweet treats for their family dinners. She had planned to settle in to one of the cozy tables by the front window, but with so many people crowding in to get a chance at the pastry cabinet, she didn't much feel like sitting in this sea of madness. Better to get her food and get out.

  When her turn in line came up, she already knew exactly what she wanted. Two pain au chocolate, four madeleinnes, two canelés, and a small bag of macarons. It was a veritable feast of baked goods, but she felt like using sweets to stuff her irritating memories down into some deep dark place where she wouldn't have to deal with them. Besides, this way she wouldn't have to worry about breakfast tomorrow.

  She paid the shop boy, took up her bag of pastries, and squeezed her way through the busy pâtisserie to get back out into the street. It had stopped raining at least, although the air still felt damp and oppressive. Not sure where to eat, she decided that she needed a coffee to go with her food, and walked up the street to a café she'd used to frequent before discovering the Pâtisserie La Parisienee and all its mouth-watering temptations.

  Pushing the door open and stepping inside, she stopped dead, one hand still holding the door wide open.

  Sitting at the counter with his back to her was a man with dusty blonde hair and a worn red bandana tied around his neck. Could it be him? Who else would be wearing a bandana like that?

  An angry cough from a nearby table jolted her from her thoughts and she realized that she was letting cold air into the pleasantly warm café. She made a quick decision and she ducked back into the street, letting the door close behind her.

  She stared out at the cars passing by, rainwater splashing at the edges of the sidewalk as tires pushed through curbside puddles. Where was she going to go now? She was hungry, and grumpy, and just wanted to shove something French and fluffy into her face so she could, for at least a few minutes, forget about every single other thing that was happening in her life right now.

  Maybe I should just go in, she said to herself. She turned and looked at the café. It looked so warm and pleasant inside. So inviting and full of the promise of caffeine and shelter.

  But he was inside. The man she'd quite literally fallen all over on the bus. The man who'd been so nice, and then just let her walk away. It was so awkward saying goodbye to someone only to run into them a few minutes later. Would he be irritated at seeing her again?

  Maybe she could just slip into the café unnoticed. It's not like they'd shared contact information and become good friends or anything. She owed him nothing, and she was free to take a seat by herself to enjoy a hot and frothy latte.

  Setting her mind to it, she pushed the door back open and shuffled inside out of the cold. Staring around the room, she realized she now had a different problem—there were no seats anywhere to be had.

  Bus guy seemed to be getting his drink to go though. She watched the barista hand him a large paper cup with a plastic lid. Surely he'd be leaving soon, and she could just take his seat. This whole train of thought was tiring her out, and she finally decided to be bold.

  "Hi," she said, stepping in to stand just behind him.

  He spun in his seat, obvious surprise registered on his face.

  "Come here often?" What was it about this guy that just brought the stupidest words out of her mouth?

  "Actually, yes. My studio is just around the corner. I come in here almost every day." His eyes drifted down to her paper bag with the distinctive Pâtisserie La Parisienee logo.

  "I needed some breakfast. Well, lunch I guess. Is there ever really a bad time to eat pastries?"

  "No, I honestly do not think there is a bad time to eat pastries. Especially from La Parisienne. I love that place," he said.

  "Yeah, but it's so busy I couldn't get a table to sit down." She looked around the café. "Although this place doesn't seem any better."

  "I hope this doesn't seem to strange coming from a guy you just met on the bus, but if you want to grab something to go, we can sit in my gallery. It's closed for the holidays. Plenty of space inside."