First Comes By Karisma Chapter Three Romance, Alt. Rating: PG-13 Karisma456@hotmail.com Standard Disclaimers Apply April 2001 "Okay," Serena announced two weeks later, sitting down on the wooden floor of the living room. She waited until Darien was seated next to her before pulling out a thick swatch book from her bag. "We have narrowed it down to gray and green and burgundy and green for the master bedroom." She pulled out two sets of the colors and fanned them out. "Which one would you rather sleep on?" He cocked his eyebrow at the unusual question and Serena rolled her eyes. "Well?" She persisted. "Which ever," he said impatiently, admiring the way her hair fell over in waves every time she tilted her head in thought. "You know, for a man who wanted to be informed about every minute detail, you aren't being very fascinated by the art of decorating," she scolded, her voice partially teasing. Adjusting her sky blue cotton shirt, she stared down at the swirls of colors in her lap. He leaned in closer to her, under the subterfuge of taking a closer look at the swatches. Serena saw him bent his dark head and her breath caught in her throat. The same feeling had assaulted her for the past two weeks and she was tiring of it. She was engaged, there was no way being attracted to another man was excusable! Shoving the swatches in his surprised hands, she scrambled up and sidled her way to the door, mumbling out an explanation of forgetting other books in car. He watched her run out with an amused smile. Her random exits were something he had been accustomed to. Every time he got to close for her comfort she ran away like a frightened rabbit only to come back looking composed and collected. That was, until he came within close proximity to her again. It wasn't brain surgery to figure out that Serena Price was attracted to him. And that was all very well, considering he had found himself greatly attracted to her since he had confronted her at the auction with news that would send quite a few women reaching for the Prozac. Watching her enter once again, her face slightly flushed from running, he disregarded the thick book she handed him. Instead, he kept his eyes locked with her wide blue ones. "Burgundy and green." He said softly. She fixed an overly bright smile on her face. "Great!" She jotted down a few things on her notepad. "Monogrammed?" When he shook his head the positive, she slapped the notebook on the oak floor and planted her hands on her khaki-clad hips, looking down at him expectantly. He had brought one knee up and his elbow now laid on it casually. And it was the way his narrowed eyes were fixated tightly on her face that made her feel as if he had the advantage over her, even with her standing over him. She cleared her throat, looking away from his silver blue eyes. "Uh-for the drawing room, I think blue and gold would be a wonderful combination." "Blue and gold," he repeated lazily, slowly getting up from his position. As he drew to his full height, Serena got the distinct picture of an animal stalking its prey. "Yes," she squeaked hastily, drawing a step back as he took on forward. "You could have dark blue velvet curtains-or no, light blue would be better." She inched back again, nearly tripping over a sample book when he stepped closer. "Actually, no, navy blue would be better-it'll draw more attention to the gold." He was nodding slowly as if listening to everything she had to say in close detail. Instead, he was examining the exact state of pink her cheeks seemed to be and the way her eyes seemed to widen when she was nervous. Fully aware she was babbling, she continued. Unable to stop, she listened to her barely coherent ramblings with increasing horror and anxiety. "And you could have dark blue furniture-maybe in leather. That would look nice. And a glass coffee table would be beautiful." She sidestepped him only to have him take the same step, making him even closer to her than before. "Uh-a chandelier would be heavenly right up there, see?" She pointed up. "The light could catch it when you pull back the draperies and-" She cleared her throat when he didn't move his head to look at up at where her index finger was. "Serena," he said silkily, an amused smile playing on his lips at her flustered reaction. "I'm not interested in the drawing room." He reached for her and Serena evaded his grasp, dumping a nearby book of samples in his arms. "Quite right!" She blurted out, a flush staining her cheeks. "We should decorate the dining room first!" She pointed to the book with a shaky finger, stepping back slowly. "Isn't the crème and claret design beautiful?" "Beautiful," he agreed. His gaze never leaving her, he put the book down and stepped closer. Serena knew he had been referring to her and not the colors she had been prattling about. This knowledge only served to heighten her state of quandary by tenfold as she watched him reach for her again. He grasped her shoulders and drew her to him, rubbing her arms with small soothing circles. He leaned forward and alarm bells went off in her mind. Dodging the kiss by mere centimeters, she turned her head quickly so his lips brushed her cheek. "Um-Victorian furniture is decorous-although I have to admit, it is a bit more feminine. However, Gothic and nineteenth century are both-" She felt his forehead against her temple and saw his lips twitch imperceptibly at her incessant chattering. She opened her mouth once again, this time to tell him exactly what she thought of all this. Unfortunately, he seized the rare moment of silence with surprising deftness. His mouth came to hers expertly, softly coaxing her hesitant reply. And after a second, she was helpless. Intoxicated by the unusual headiness that came with the unexpected kiss, she barely registered Darien's arms coming around her, nor was she conscious of wrapping her arms around his neck, bringing him closer. The kiss seemed to last only a second and eternity all at the same time. When both parties pulled away, their reactions were quite contradictory. Serena, aghast at the notion that she was an engaged woman behaving like a wanton, felt anger and humiliation rise like bile to flame her pale cheeks and constrict her throat. Darien, however, looked fairly pleased with himself, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he bent his head to kiss her again. She gathered her equanimity and veered away from him, grabbing her coat and purse with rapid nimbleness, desperately needing to escape the presence of Darien. She left without a word, not bothering to offer some half plausible excuse for her abrupt departure. There wasn't any point, they both knew why. But even leaving him did nothing to stop the guilt that poured into her at the masochistic way her mind was repeating their heated transgression. Biting her lip hard to keep from crying at her infidelity, she swerved into her parking space and stared blankly out the windshield for an unmarked period of time. Snapping out of her stupor, she sighed heavily at her predicament and slammed her car door with surprising force. She climbed the stairs with heavy feet, contemplating whether or not to tell Greg the awful malfeasance I had committed. Keeping down a hysterical giggle, she thought of his usual staid demeanor and wondered if he would write this off the same stoic way he had her bombshell regarding her marriage. **** After much deliberation, Serena decided she would tell Greg once they got married and all trifles such as these would seem trivial and humorous. Satisfied with her justifications and the fact that it was one little kiss and most certainly not the end of world, Serena knew the only way to implement that it was not a big deal into Darien's head was to go back to work unaffected. And that would require a great deal of energy that Serena spent all weekend gathering. Sunday night found her pleasantly surprised by both Greg and Amy's company. Of course, neither one had expected the other's presence and they were none too pleased to find the other there. "Wow, Greg. Here on a Sunday." Amy gave a low whistle. "Doesn't it thrill you to live on the wild side?" Greg's jaw tightened imperceptibly as he shot back with the most emotion Serena had seen in him all week , "Amy, shouldn't you be out devirginizing some undergraduate?" He hit a sore spot; Amy had inadvertently dated a college student who had lied about his age. As soon as the ruse had been discovered, Amy, humiliated, had come over to vent to Serena, not knowing Greg was in the kitchen, able to hear ever word perfectly. Amy's eyes flickered with something that bordered on pain before her caustic smirk was back in place. "How about you shove it up-" Serena stopped them before the livid look in Greg's brown eyes turned murderous. "Hey!" She walked into the living room, careful to separate the two adults. "Now what's up?" "I wanted to take you out to dinner." Greg smiled sincerely, his voice tender. Amy snorted, "Did you rip yourself away from your taxes long enough to think of that? Imagine, actually dating your fiancé!" She let out a bitter laugh. Greg scowled at her, "Why don't you leave, Amy?" The comment wasn't witty, nor should it have stung, but Amy looked as if someone has slapped her. She uncharacteristically mumbled an apology and quietly left, the door closing softly behind her. Serena watched her leave before turning back to Greg, prepared to chastise him severely for hurting her. But when she looked at him, his face was turned, his gaze locked on the white door she had just closed. His expression was contrite, his mouth twisted in something indefinable. He looked so apologetic, Serena decided not to lecture him. "Would you like to go out to dinner?" His gaze whipped back to her. He looked surprised to see her there. "What? Uh-no, you look tired. I'll let you rest. Maybe some other time, all right?" Before she could respond, he had pecked her check and was already gone, the door closing for the second time on her in the past two minutes. "Yeah," she whispered wryly to the empty room. "Some other time. Like Wednesday, right?" **** "I think once you'll want to hang something over the fireplace. It'll look somewhat bare, especially when all the furniture comes in." Serena scribbled some ideas to show him later. Darien stared at her back, frowning as he narrowed his eyes at her casual behavior. Stiffness and nervousness he could understand, but this amicable camaraderie she was emanating left him baffled. It was as if the passionate ardor they had shared in the very room they were standing in had been eradicated from her memory. He pursued his lips in sudden understanding. It was exactly what she wanted: To pretend nothing had happened. He fought the urge to smile at her laudable endeavor. But something had happened and he certainly wasn't ready to erase it so quickly. "Serena," he invited gently, closing the gap between them. "This there something you would like to discuss?" She jumped about a mile high at the suggestion. She stuttered for a few moments before her phrases actually began to make lucid thoughts. "Well-I-well, about what?" He raised a dark eyebrow at her restless movements. "I think you know." She sighed heavily. "Well, it was a terrible mistake and while I plan to tell Greg, I'd appreciate it-" He interrupted smoothly, "A mistake?" He had truncated her carefully constructed speech and now Serena was lost. "Er-well, yes. It was and now-" "What if I told you it wasn't a mistake?" "Would you stop interrupting me?" Serena finally exploded, her voice petulant. "Certainly," he allowed, tipping his head graciously for her to continue. She let out an uneasy breath, completely baffled as to where to pick up. After a few moments of silence and confusion, Darien finally spoke. "May I now?" She nodded irritably. "What makes you classify it as a mistake?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. She gaped at him before raising her voice incredulously, "Are you forgetting I have a fiancé?" "Last week I wasn't the only one that temporarily forgot you had one," he shot back wryly and Serena's cheeks flushed at how he had slapped her in the face with her treachery. "Which is exactly why it was a mistake," she snapped, glaring up at him. They stood in silence for a bit, the late sun casting golden rays across the mellow wooden floor. Serena finally broke the stillness. "I'll see you tomorrow, Dr. Mathison." She cuttingly used his name politely, her tone icy as she turned away from him. He caught her elbow and whirled her around to face him again. Serena gasped in surprise at the sudden action and was further shocked by the stormy expression glinting in his bottomless eyes. "How can you even think of your fiancé after you kiss me like that?" He seethed quietly, his jaw clenched with restrained power and anger. "Believe me, it won't be happening again!" She spat out, yanking her arm from his iron grasp. His face changed to something unreadable as his eyes narrowed. And when the kiss came, it was entirely unforeseen. His lips were hard and demanding against her own, commanding her to respond. It was the complete antithesis of what had occurred before and Serena squirmed in his embrace until the kiss softened, becoming nothing more than feathered touch of his warm lips. He pulled away a fraction of an inch, watching her lips tremble in salacious wonder. He looked into her luminous eyes and waited silently for her to act. To make the first move and let there be no mistake after that this was what she had wanted. And with a shuddering groan, she did. Pulling him closer with her arms, she kissed him deeply, tangling one hand in his dark hair. When they pulled apart, both breathing unevenly, Serena held a trembling hand to her lips, her eyes huge with shame and unshed tears. Whispering something inaudible, she fled the house, leaving the door open in her wake. **** Serena indulged herself in a good cry before wiping her tears and commanding herself to think of one plausible reason for her unjustifiable actions. Aside from the given fact that Dr. Darien Mathison was one incredibly handsome male. An intelligent one too. And witty. This was getting her nowhere! Groaning, she pulled herself up the next morning, determined to move past the small hindrance in her engagement to Greg. She would forget this with time, she would. A kiss was just a kiss. Her resolve strengthening, she showered and dressed, grateful that she was excused from work today. She never met Darien on Tuesdays; he took care of his own business then, leaving her to run errands for patterns and paraphernalia. Biting down on a piece of unbuttered toast, she adjusted her small, gold-rimmed glasses and quickly sketched a list of things to do. Quickly wrapping her thick hair into a loose bun, she set down to work, determined to forget her indomitable problems in a valiant endeavor of labor. Amidst, the list of phone numbers and prices, Serena jumped when she heard a knock on her door. Chiding her pounding heart, she opened the door, expecting Amy's cheerful face to greet her, as Greg never came unannounced. She would have been less surprised if Greg had come. "Hello, Serena. May I come in?" A deep voice asked, taking her dumbfounded silence as agreement. His rumpled hair and lazy grin was almost her undoing as she gathered some semblance of order and ushered him to the living room. He looked around appreciatively. "An interior decorator's apartment. What a sight to behold." His voice was teasing as he raked in the tasteful Victorian furniture. The cream draperies and carpets gave an elegant atmosphere that was softened by the disarray of paperwork and a coffee mug on the glass coffee table. The walls were covered with soft Monets that brought his attention back to the young women who was clutching a chair behind her with a death grip. "It's lovely," he said quietly. She cleared her throat. "Thank you," She replied in an equally subdued manner. His comment had meant a lot, he could tell. He also couldn't help but wonder if Greg ever commented on her taste or talent. The thought of her fiancé sent an unfamiliar tension through him. "How can I help you?" It was a polite way of asking what in heaven was he doing here. "I came to see you," he smiled, his tone banteringly light as he sat down on her couch. She sighed heavily, moving across the room to sit on a loveseat. "Why?" She persisted doggedly, painfully aware of how simplistic her jeans and tank top must seemed against his usual uniform of a tailored suit and tie. He raised an eyebrow at her edginess. "To discuss something with you?" She nearly gasped out in relief. Work related. That she could handle. "Oh! Well, what's the problem?" she leaned forward, grabbing her clipboard and pen from the coffee table. "Does there have to a problem in order for me to see you?" "Something you'd like changed?" She suggested perkily, fighting her increasing nervousness in a losing battle. "Have dinner with me," he invited casually, his tone implying there was nothing amiss with the suggestion. She gaped at him, her mind whirling with so many possible replies that she couldn't speak for a moment. Finally, she stared at him, concern evident in her furrowed brow. "Are you sure they you didn't cut out some of your brain this morning?" He gave a shout of laughter before grinning at her broadly, his tone gentle. "I can assure you, Serena, the surgery was done entirely on the patient. And I am rather sane." Serena still couldn't get past staring at him in shock. "What are you thinking!" She jumped up, anger rising in her throat. His voice was wry as he stood up and answered, "I'm thinking I feel rather foolish asking my own wife out on a date." She was too distraught to notice he had referred to her as his spouse. Fighting for control, she squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temple. "I am engaged," she whispered, more to herself than him. "I know. I'm not asking you to run away with me, Serena. I'm asking you if you would like to have dinner." He smiled ruefully down at her and Serena suddenly felt very foolish. "Oh," she said brilliantly, blinking rapidly to escape the cloud of confusion that was covering her. "Well, I-" "Wednesday," he interrupted, his face impassively cool. "I can't." "Ah." he nodded knowingly and something in his tone made her think that he had mentioned the day on purpose. "That's Greg's day, am I right?" When she nodded he gave her a sardonic smile and she got the distinct feeling that he was mocking her. "Friday then." "Just dinner?" She pressed suspiciously and when he smiled indulgently she didn't know whether to be relieved or wary. "Just dinner." Serena resorted to her best defense: her sarcasm. "And what, pray tell, would we talk about? Your wonderful day cutting people open?" He had to bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at her disgusted face. "Well!" He admonished. "Most females find that subject to be devastatingly sexy. They can't keep their hands off of me after I explain how I manage to take out a tumor." She gave him a look of such abhorrence, he couldn't contain his mirth any longer. He let out a sharp bark of laughter and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Serena, I'd be happy to discuss anything with you." She sighed heavily. She should say no; it was the only right, decent thing to do. Not that she could talk about righteousness considering she cheated on her fiancé, but now was as good a time to start as ever. She opened her mouth, prepared to say gently, albeit firmly, no. "Yes."