Consequences

Part 80

At the kitchen table Isabelle realised that he looked frazzled. She'd been caught up in trying to see if she was reading the signals right and if she was giving out the right signals. Too busy concentrating on her own reaction to the man, she chastised herself silently. She'd failed to see, until just now, just how tired he looked. Obviously taking care of her and managing a successful business was taking its toll.

"Busy day?' She queried as she reached for a slice of pizza. Would he discuss his day with her? Or were the two strands he was attempting to juggle to be lived as separate lives. She hoped not. But that was up to him.

Doug's brow furrowed. "Odd, more than busy." And much to her secret delight he told her about the day as they munched their way through slice after slice of the large pizza. Isabelle listened, asking the odd question now and again, but in general she just listened as he described his day and but more importantly as he gave her an insight into another side of his life. He trusted her with that information. That, as far as Isabelle was concerned was a huge step.

They'd finished the pizza. Doug reached the pizza box lid and closed it. "I can't put my finger on it. There's just something that isn't right." Doug concluded. It was a niggling worry in the back of his mind. There were signs of activity that suggested the business was under threat. How, who or where were still to be determined.

"What did Ryan say?" Isabelle asked quietly.

"I haven't told him." Doug murmured. He'd thought about it. But as he couldn't quite work out what was wrong, he wasn't sure what to ask Ryan to look for.

"He's a paper trail whizz, tell him, he might be able to sift and find something." Isabelle said with a shrug, not really sure whether her suggestion had any currency.

"Find what?" He exhaled and shook his head. "I don't even know what it is that doesn't feel right." He reached for his glass of wine. "It just feels odd." He studied the contents of his glass, as if looking into the rich dark liquid would be enlightening.

"It isn't us?' Isabelle said hesitantly. She hoped he wasn't going to reach the conclusion that being with her felt wrong. Her heart started pounding. Please don't say it's us, she prayed.

"Us?" Doug quirked a brow at her, his eyes showing puzzlement, "What do you mean, us?"

Feeling a touch gauche Isabelle shrugged, then murmured somewhat apprehensively, "This situation. Our engagement. It isn't causing you any hassle?" She got to her feet, picked up their now empty plates and walked toward the dishwasher. With her back to him she placed the plates in the dishwasher, hoping he wasn't going to decimate her dreams.

"Plenty." Doug smiled to soften the words, as he got to his feet, picked up the now empty pizza box and walked toward her as he added, "But not the way you think."

Isabelle frowned at him. Oh dear. Looked like she was right to worry. Things had been going so well. Like before, she thought and see how that had turned out.

"Where do you want this?" he gestured toward the pizza box.

Isabelle nodded toward the large bin at the other end of the room near the back door. "If you leave it on top of that, I'll put it in the recycle stack later." Then Isabelle swallowed her nerves, licked her suddenly dry lips and decided to ask him a blunt question, "What did you mean, not the way I think?"

"I want you." He put the pizza box on the bin lid and then looked over at Isabelle. "You must know that." Doug stated equally bluntly. He hoped he hadn't scared her off!

Isabelle's eyes rounded. Good, at least her signal reading wasn't off kilter. She had read his signals correctly. Great. The fact she hadn't quite known what to do about them and how to signal her own interest without appearing too forward or even worse, gauche, was neither here nor there. She licked her lips nervously, but made eye contact. "You want me." She held his eye contact. Ok, she willed him to read her eyes, see that she wanted him. He walked toward her. Isabelle forced herself to lower her shoulders, and keep her eyes on him as he came forward. "But you've slept in my bed and not made a move." She pointed out softly.

"You weren't well." Doug stated the obvious and came to a halt a foot or so away from her. Surely she hadn't expected him to take advantage of a woman who was ill.

"I'm well now." Isabelle said softly, amazed at her own bravery. When had she acquired the courage to spell things out like this? She did her best not to fidget, though it was tempting to look and sound nonchalant, she wanted him to know she was issuing a serious invitation. She wanted him to know she wanted him.

Doug smiled gently at her. He reached forward and tenderly cupped her face. "Not well enough." He said gently, brushing a strand of hair past her cheekbone. With his gaze locked on her, he stated with clear intent, "When we get together you'll need all your strength."

Isabelle gulped. Her eyes flashed in anticipation of the promise in his statement. Doug smiled and pulled her nearer. Good, he thought. She now knew that he was interested. More than interested in her. Doug's eyes warmed with gentle heat as he leaned forward. He brushed his nose against hers gently, then he slowly tilted her head to initiate a sweet and gentle kiss. Isabelle wrapped her arms around him, her hands fisting in his shirt as she held on. Several seconds later Doug broke contact. But with their eyes shut and their foreheads lightly touching they waited. It was reluctant, but a few seconds later, on a slow steady inhale, they both then drew apart slowly.

"I'm going to go to bed." Isabelle announced, rather bluntly. Would he understand that message, she wondered as she moved on unsteady feet and put a couple of feet between them. She'd been unsteady on her feet for days, but this was different. This light headedness was different.

Doug smiled and nodded, "I'll be there soon."

Soon? Was he giving her time to 'prepare'? Was that what this was about? Was she expected to go to bed and wait for him? Isabelle quirked a brow and got an unexpected response.

"I want to look at some of the paper work again." He told her as his brain returned to that nagging worry in the back of his mind. "Sorry. I shouldn't be long. I just want to have a quick look at some of the paper work."

Isabelle smiled. She remembered a time when she was like him, but in her case, her family's financial well being depended on her working through even the smallest concern.

Doug's eyes showed concern. "Do you mind?" He asked quietly. "It seems a bit rude to barge in, come prepared to look after you, and then say I want to do some more work!"

Isabelle shook her head, "You'd only worry about it if you came to bed right now." She said in understanding. "But can I suggest you use the study." She told him. "It's better than sitting at the kitchen table."

"Thanks. "I won't be long."

But she didn't hear him come to bed, because she was sound asleep when he crawled beneath the sheets, just after midnight. He'd caught the hint of a pattern in the paper work, what he'd detected had him worried. Yet when he crawled into bed, the first thing he did was check to see if Isabelle was ok. Not hot, not cool, not clammy. With a sigh of relief he settled against her and slowly fell asleep.