Coda Books 04 - Strawberries for Dessert (MM)

was little more than a whisper. “I feel like I know her better than I know my own mother. The one thing I don’t know,” he had to pause for a moment then, “is her name.”
    I reached over and took his hand, and although he didn’t look at me, he gripped my fingers tight. “It was Carol. Carol Elizabeth Kechter.”
    “Carol,” he said quietly, almost like a prayer. And then he turned to me with a smile. “Thank you.”

    WE GOT to New York and found a cab, and Cole named a hotel.
    “We’re not staying at the Waldorf?” I asked him jokingly.
    He didn’t even look at me. “We can, if you like.”
    “Cole?” I waited for him to meet my gaze. “I was kidding.
    Anywhere is fine.”
    “The one I chose is on Broadway. It will make our trip to theater infinitely easier.”
    “Broadway?” I asked, knowing that I sounded like an excited kid, but unable to contain myself. “Are we going to a show?”
    “Did I not just say that, love?” he asked, but he smiled at me when he said it, if only a little. “Why else would I bring you to this godforsaken city?”
    All I could do was laugh with joy. I reached across the cab and put my hand on the back of his neck and pulled him toward me. He didn’t push me away like he often did, but he didn’t exactly cooperate either. He stared resolutely straight ahead, and I ended up kissing his temple. “Thank you,” I told him.
    “You’re welcome,” he said quietly, and I could tell my excitement cheered him up a little.
    We got to the hotel and checked in. Over the years, I had stayed in hundreds of motel rooms, but none like this one. It was huge, with a giant window looking down at the lights of Broadway. The bed was deep and soft and wonderfully inviting after a long day of traveling.
    “I can’t believe you brought me all the way to New York just to see a show,” I said to him, and he smiled.
    “I hoped you would be pleased. I would have liked to take you to Paris, but it’s not very convenient for a weekend trip. I wanted it to be something that you would enjoy even if I was being terribly moody. ”
    I hesitated for a moment, not wanting to upset him, but I finally asked, “Are you going to tell me why we’re here?”
    He turned away from me, looking out the window. “Because,” he said, his voice so quiet I had to strain to hear him, “tomorrow’s my birthday.”
    And suddenly it all made sense—his comments about being terrible company but still wanting to have me with him. He had all the money in the world, but nobody to spend his own birthday with.
    Nobody but me. I crossed over to him. He still had his back to me, and I wrapped my arms around him from behind. “Happy birthday,” I whispered in his ear.
    He didn’t answer me with words, but for the first time ever, he truly relaxed in my arms. He seemed to sink into himself, and he leaned back against me with a sigh. It felt so natural and so perfect. It felt right . I put my face into his silky hair, breathing in that scent I loved so much.
    “Would you rather go out to eat for your birthday, or should I order room service?”
    “I don’t care, love. First, I’m going to shower.” He turned his head so he could look up at me. “Do you want to join me?”
    We had never showered together before. It was one of those casual intimacies he seemed to avoid, and his sudden invitation surprised me. I was tempted for a moment, but there was something else I wanted to do more. “You go ahead,” I told him.
    I called the concierge as soon as I heard the water turn on. She laughed but said she would take care of it. Then I called room service.
    All that was left after that was to wait. I thought again of him in the shower, wondering if we would have enough time. I gave in, deciding to risk it, but just as I walked into the bathroom, the water turned off.
    His shower must have been scorching hot, because the bathroom was thick with steam. It smelled like soap and strawberries, and I found it incredibly arousing. “You’re late,” he said jokingly as he stepped out of the tub. His skin was beaded with water. His light brown hair looked almost black, wet and stuck to his head.
    “I changed my mind.”
    He reached for a towel, and I stepped in front of them, blocking his access. I knew it was cruel. He was soaking wet and starting to get goose bumps. But I really didn’t want him to dry off yet. “Is there a reason you’re making me stand here freezing, love?” he asked.
    “Yes.” I