Claire stared once more into a mirror as she splashed cold water on her face. She studied her reflection. Reluctantly she admitted the kid had a point. She was not the type that looked good thin. Her sunken cheeks gave her the garish appearance of Dickens's Miss Havisham. But that was beside the point at the moment. What was she going to do?
He was waiting out there. At a table. Chatting like old friends with the waitress. A young woman that was disgustingly obvious in her interest in the man. She was reminded of her blog...Have Some Dignity, Bitches. It was not cool to chase a man like that.
She frowned. What did it matter to her? Maybe if the sweet young thing passed him her number then he would just turn the car around and take her home. And if he would not, then she was getting back there, one way or another. She rummaged in her purse until she found her wallet. Opening it she found all of her cards and the small amount of cash that she usually kept just for emergencies. Of course, it was silly to think that he had taken it, but you could never be sure with strangers.
She shook her head as she sighed. But that was the damnedest thing. He did not feel like a stranger. He had used the word 'friend' and as strange as that was it fit perfectly. It was like she knew this man. More shocking yet, like she trusted him.
She tried playing it all back on the small screen of her mind. Their conversations, everything he had said. But when she got to that kiss, she blushed. For certain there was nothing friendly about that. The way her nipples ached and hardened within the tight confines of the corset was mortifying.
The corset! It was all she had on under her coat. What was she going to do? Eat breakfast in her coat? "Shit," she exclaimed. Not that she had not done this sort of thing before. She smiled weakly at the memory of one of His challenges: wear nothing but suspenders and stockings under her coat on the train to His house. It had been the middle of winter and she nearly froze, but she was dripping wet by the time she got there. But this was different. It was not some silly challenge from her Master. She was stuck; practically naked beneath this coat in the middle of nowhere with a man whose name she did not even know.
Holy god, she did not even know his name! That realization hit her like a knockout punch from the World's Heavy Weight Champion. Her knees buckled and she gripped the counter top to keep from falling. Of course, she had thought of it last night. But she was so confused and exhausted from that whole ordeal. From the past few months. Honestly from way longer than that even. In the bright morning sunlight, it just seemed...worse somehow.
Squaring her shoulders, she stood up. She lifted her chin and looked at the hag in the mirror once more. Her hair had come out of the ponytail as she slept and was falling about her face. She dug deeper into the oversized bag and found her make-up case. Pulling out her brush, she focused all her attention on righting her abysmal appearance. Once that was done, she dabbed a bit of concealer on the dark circles under her eyes. She would have liked to blame a poor night's sleep cramped up in his car, but truth was that even in her bed at home she had not slept in a long while. That led her to add a bit of mascara, a touch of blush and some lip gloss.
When she was finished, the woman staring back at her was only moderately more presentable. But it would have to do for now. She had business to take care of. Top on that list...getting back to London. With or without his help. This place might appear nothing more but an island in the middle of nowhere but one thing she had learned: every poe-dunk town in this country had a train station. If necessary she would bribe that sweet young waitress to help her find it. Hell, the woman would probably fall all over herself to be rid of her and get him all to herself.
She had wasted enough time. Squaring her shoulders for battle, she turned and opened the door. She ran straight into him. His strong arms once more wrapped about her waist.
He steadied her before releasing her from his embrace, but his hand remained at the small of her back. "It took you long enough." His eyes travelled up and down her face and body. "You could have done without the makeup." He leaned in and whispered, "It doesn't put nearly as much colour in your cheeks as my kiss did."
Claire tried to shove him away but it was as futile as the fly swatting at the fly swatter as he guided her back towards their table by the window. "I came to get you because our food is here," he added as he held out the chair for her.
She wanted to argue but decided it was best to bide her time, come up with a plan and get the hell out of here and away from him. She took the chair he offered and picked up the cup of steaming, black coffee as he went around the table and took the seat across from her. Her eye brows shot up as the hot liquid scalded her throat. Its sweetness assailed her. Strong, black and sweet just the way she took her coffee.
But how did this man know that? Few people knew her personal habits, likes and dislikes. While her blog appeared completely open and transparent, the truth was that it contained very few identifying markers. She kept it that way for this very reason. The Internet was stalker heaven.
But this man knew things that no stalker would be privy to. How she liked her coffee. The fact that He would never recognize her to His family. Her mouth fell open. Only a handle full of her closest friends knew that. The shame of it something she shared only when she was at her lowest and then only with the ones that she could trust the most.
Her fingers trembled as she sat the cup back on the table. She drew in a deep breath and lifted her eyes to his. Grey-green. How had she not seen it before? Or was she simply seeing things that she wanted? Reading things into the situation that she had no right to? Goodness knows she was expert at that.
"What is your name?" she strangled past the tightness in her throat. It came out nothing more than a croaked and broken whisper. She was not certain he could even hear her.
She stared into those eyes, searched his face deeper. It had been years since she had seen a picture. She had never been much of a visual person, preferring to see people for their hearts and not their outward appearance that could be deceptive.
But the resemblance was undeniable. His dark blonde hair was longer. His unshaven face more craggy, having lost some of its boyish charm as he matured. But it suited him well. He had grown into the remarkable man that she always knew he would be.
Her eyes clouded over once more as she steadied her voice. "I asked, what is your name?"
