LITMIR.BIZ

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which she was still finishing.

      “And, er, I sat in the fountain….”

      Isaac glanced at her. “Well, that is a story I want to hear. Come on, let’s leave these blabbering fools.” He winked at the girls on the couch, one of whom noticeably shifted under his gaze.

      As he led Elly into the kitchen, it was obvious to her, and everyone at the party, that he only had eyes for her.

      “What would you like to drink? I have wine, beer, water, cranberry juice—”

      Elly raised her eyebrows. “Cranberry juice? That’s a very manly drink.”

      Isaac nodded, “I know. But, at the end of a writing session, when everyone wants a beer, I just want cranberry juice. It stimulates my music, I think. I know, it’s weird. Don’t tell the indie panel,” he trailed off as he gestured with his head toward the living room. “They are a little annoying, but they are nice people when you get to know them.”

      He leaned toward her and whispered in her ear as he handed her a glass of juice.

      “They definitely are a little boring though. You are very UN-boring.” His fingertips brushed over hers, and Elly found herself captivated by everything about him. Their eyes locked. Elly tore herself away from his brown eyes and looked around the kitchen. It was small and bare, except for some food trays and a small Buddha statue on the window ledge. She gestured toward it.

      “Is this yours, or do you have roommates?”

      “Oh, my grandparents brought this when they came over to the mainland from Hawaii. They gave it to me as a gift when I moved out here. It’s really the only thing I had in the apartment for a while besides my guitar. I’m not really religious at all, but I just think it looks super awesome there.”

      Ahhh, thought Elly, he’s Hawaiian. And who has a religious icon just for looks?

      “Tell me about your parents,” she said.

      “Well, they are mostly respectable adults. They live in Honolulu. Modern bungalow, the works. My dad works with software, and my mom owns an antique shop. I love visiting them, but I don’t want to live there. I need room to roam.”

      His eyes simmered at her. She felt herself flushing as their conversation flowed. The minutes flew by as they talked over the granite kitchen island that separated them. Elly loved the way his mouth moved when he talked. The moment passed too quickly.

      “Are you hungry?” he asked.

      Should I eat? thought Elly. If I don’t eat, he’ll think I’m trying to look skinny, or on a diet. If I do eat, he’ll notice I’m a fatty and squeezed into these size-sixteen khakis. Why did I wear KHAKIS?

      She sucked her stomach in and leaned into the counter.

      “Well … I could eat something,” she said, trying to sound ambivalent to the very thought, even though her stomach was churning. Isaac glanced around.

      “Well, if it was up to me, we’d have cereal, but Tifah brought some appetizers, so let’s go ask her what we have.”

      Elly was loath to go back to the pompous idiots talking about something she didn’t understand and leave the breezy kitchen where she had his full attention. Isaac ducked under the fringed curtain, looking back at Elly. He could instantly tell that she was uncomfortable and tried to put her at ease.

      “I won’t leave you out there, promise.” His eyes smiled. She followed him out.

      A couple of people had arrived late, and the party was in full swing. It was also way past Elly’s bedtime. They approached the group on the couch.

      “Isaac, where did you go?” asked the redhead wearing black-and-white striped stockings and a cute jean skirt. She nudged him with her hip.

      Elly. Hated. Redheads.

      “Tifah. You are so nosey. We were just in the kitchen. Hey, Elly is hungry.”

      Thank you for pointing that out, Elly sang in her head.

      “What are the appetizers you brought?”

      Tifah, a waif, leaned into Isaac’s shoulder. “Well, I have been trying new things from Gourmet Petite for lighter fare. We have a shrimp ceviche, a salmon mousse on melba toast, and crudités.”

      Elly was suddenly longing for the box of cereal bars that was sitting temptingly in her pantry. Isaac apparently mirrored her feelings.

      “What the heck is crudités?” he asked.

      Elly snickered.

      “It’s … vegetables. Carrot sticks,” Tifah informed him.

      Isaac rolled his eyes. “Then why didn’t you just say carrot sticks?”

      Tifah suddenly seemed to shrink. “Whatever. We were talking about parallel fifths and their relation to twentieth-century music….”

      Elly tuned out, cranberry juice in hand. All around the party, people were engrossed in deep conversation. The lanky man who had assumed she was someone’s mom was strumming a sitar in the corner, while a young girl sat in rapt attention at his feet. The man in the tight black T-shirt was clapping some sort of rhythm with his hands, while the other man on the couch nodded in time. Out on the balcony, there were two guys harmonizing.

      This is awful, thought Elly. The girls were all centered on Isaac. She watched in silence. He truly was a commanding presence. He was wearing a white button-down shirt with tiny caramel swirls down the arms. Dark lean jeans sat on his narrow hips and brown sandals showed his lightly tanned toes. He seemed to be a great listener, leaning into each conversation with interest, tossing his head back with laughter at lame jokes that should have garnered a weak smile at best. Isaac possessed allure. Every woman in the room was seeking out his attention, his addictive grin.

      Elly could not explain the feeling that Isaac stirred within her. It was a rushing joy—it felt like a familiar comfort, a coming home, an old feeling with a new face. As Elly pondered the strange sensation spreading through her like syrup, Isaac turned and faced her while the three women talked incessantly at him. They shared a moment, not unlike the one she felt in the kitchen. A connection.

      Isaac, noticing a lull in the conversation, announced, “Here’s something interesting: Elly grew up in a house with a butler!”

      Before Elly was forced to reply, Tifah, who had been swaying and holding on to Isaac’s arm, turned and barfed onto Elly’s shoes.

      Twenty minutes later, barefoot and less one puking Bohemian, Elly sat on Isaac’s balcony that overlooked Wydown, the same street that her shop faced. It was strange to see her little patio from this angle. She had a sudden alarmed thought that maybe Isaac had seen the end of her and Kim’s fight that afternoon. How embarrassing! And she had looked like crap! She pushed it out of her mind. The white lights sparkled in the trees, and she watched a young couple stumble down the street, apparently having had a little too much wine—not unlike Tifah, who was recovering in Isaac’s bedroom. The girl laced her fingers through the man’s hair, pulling his face down to hers for a voracious kiss.

      Elly looked away, suddenly feeling a voyeur to their passion. She couldn’t stop yawning. I should be in bed by now. What am I doing here? She thought about Cadbury, who was probably wondering where she could possibly be. She didn’t leave him alone at night often. She never went out, unless she went to Kim’s, and Cadbury always joined them there. He was probably leaving a special present for her on her carpet at this very moment.

      The glass door slid open, and Isaac stepped out, shutting it tightly behind him. Elly’s heart quickened. They were alone!

      “Is everything cleaned up?” she asked.

      “Yeah. She’s sleeping in my room.” He paused, looking a little queasy. “I have never seen vomit that color.”

      Elly laughed. She found talking with him to be calming

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