Legacies

Even Goddesses will Fall [4]

“Why won’t he just look at me?” Marissa whispered to herself as she stared at the guy sitting at the corner table. To be honest, she’d been staring for days, but today was the day she would make her move. Because if there was one thing that was true in this world, it was that no man could resist Marissa Sinclair.

From her daily visits to Mocacino’s, Marissa had pretty much summed up the mystery man’s routine. He came in at noon every day, had a double espresso before digging into the breakfast special and finished it off with black coffee. Skye had asked for he number when she’d told them; and when Marissa asked why, she’d said that her father had contacts in the CIA and they probably didn’t have anyone as accomplished in ‘stalking the prey’ as Marissa was. Funny girl, that Skye.

Marissa saw that he was getting ready to go, so she went to the counter to order two large coffees. It wasn’t that she was obsessed with getting him, but there was something about the way he could casually come in, have his coffee and whatever and not even try to check her out. Or pick her up. Or anything for that matter. And he wasn’t even gay! She knew because he flirted with the waitress in a way only someone who could appreciate her considerable assets would. So what was his deal?

“That’ll be $4.50 ma’am,” the clerk said. She paid as quickly as she could, took both coffees in hand, turned around and right smack bang bumped into the mystery man, spilling both coffees on his shirt.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed in her most apologetic voice. “I’m such a klutz! Here, let me get that for you.”

Mystery man just grabbed the napkins out of her hands and wiped his cardigan furiously. Wait a minute, furiously?

“Look, I’m really sorry. How about you let me pay your laundry bill hmm? Would that make it better?” Marissa said in an appeasing, yet completely suggestive way.

“No, that will sure as hell not make it better,” he said in a brusquely voice. “Don’t for a second think I don’t know that you spilled coffee on me on purpose.  And while we’re at it, don’t think that it’s going to work, Miss Sinclair.”

With that he strode out of the same door Zara and Skye just entered through. One look at the Marissa’s face and they knew it had not gone to plan.

“Please don’t tell me that was the man you were trying to get to fall for you?” Zara queried.

“Not that it did any good,” Marissa said, slumping into a chair.

“That might be for the best,” Zara replied, somewhat relieved.

“And why should it be for the best? Because it wasn’t because I couldn’t get him that I wanted him. It was a genuine attraction,” Marissa said in an indignant voice.

“That made no sense. And he wears cardigans. What guy even wears cardigans anymore?” Skye butted in.

“Skye, keep quiet. Marissa, don’t get angry, but really now, do you honestly not know who that was?”

“Er, no Zara. I don’t. I’m not a walking encyclopaedia for heaven’s sake!”

“Well, the man you so eloquently spilled two large cups of coffee on is Emerson Winchester.”

“And that’s supposed to be enlightening how?” Marissa asked.

“Emerson Winchester, newly appointed Professor of Art History at the Arts Faculty at Yale University. That, my dear, is our new Professor.”

“Rise and shine sweetheart. Today’s the day you get to be humiliated all over again,” Skye chirped cheerily as she opened Marissa’s curtains.