Authors: Darah Lace
Darah Lace
suffered
the
pounding
Wylie
administered to his back along with the smug look
on Charlotte’s face.
There was no doubt in his mind she’d ordered
that drink for shock value. Probably with him in
mind. She had done no more than stir it while he
drained the rest of his beer and half another. Oh,
she had closed her full sensuous lips around the
little red straw now and then, but she never drank
from it. Only an industrial strength vacuum cleaner
could get liquid through those useless holes.
In retribution, he’d made her squirm while he
perfected his act as her lover, displaying intimate
yet respectful affection. He didn’t want to embarrass
her or himself. Just get even. And get his point
across to Wylie.
Back off
.
So far he couldn’t tell if it was working.
Marcus checked his watch and interrupted
another damnable stroll down memory lane. “We
should probably go.”
“Already?” Her disappointment pricked his
nerves like bamboo shoots under his fingernails.
“Yep,” he said, setting his beer on the bar to lift
her off the stool. He left his hands on her waist after
she had her balance for Wylie’s sake, though it was
all he could do not to drag her against him. “And you
better freshen up. Your hair’s a mess.”
Cocking her head to one side, she tilted her chin
up at him provocatively and jabbed him in the chest
with her finger. “If my hair is a mess, it’s only
because you can’t keep your hands out of it.”
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He ignored her playful reprimand—mostly
because it was true—and reached to finger a long
lock that had fallen from the neat twist at the back
of her head. It was satiny smooth, and even in the
dim light it shimmered like moonlight off water.
“I’ve always loved your hair.”
The moment he said the words, he wished he
could take them back. Damn, but what else was
new? He let the tendril slip from his fingers and
forced himself to meet her confused gaze. She was
probably trying to decide whether he really meant it,
or if it, too, was part of their game.
Grabbing her purse, he handed it to her and
lowered his voice so only she could hear. “And you
might want to touch up your lipstick. You left most
of it on Wylie.”
That earned him a frown. She took the little
black bag and turned to Wylie, who sat observing
them quietly. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Wylie nodded. “I’ll be right here.”
“Not if I can help it,” Marcus muttered under his
breath as he snatched up his beer and parked
himself on the stool she had vacated. Resisting the
urge to follow her departure in the mirror, he took a
long draw and studied his nemesis. He might not be
able to save Charlotte from herself, but he could
damn well save her from Grant Wylie. “I never
pegged you as stupid.”
Wylie jerked his gaze from Charlotte’s rearview
to Marcus. “I beg your pardon?”
Marcus leaned both elbows on the bar. “You’ve
got a pretty good setup here. Executive position at a
major hotel resort, conveniently engaged to the
boss’s daughter—”
“There’s nothing convenient about it. I love
Robyn.”
“How long do you think she’d believe that if she
saw Charlotte’s lipstick on your face?”
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Wylie withdrew a handkerchief from the inner
pocket of his suit coat and eyed Marcus cautiously as
he erased the annoying red smear. “I’d thank you for
the heads up, but somehow I don’t think you meant
to be helpful.”
Marcus lifted his beer to toast the man’s
brilliance. “See? I knew you were smart.”
“So what’s on your mind, Preston?”
He angled his head and pinned the man with a
hard stare. “Don’t think you’re going to use this
weekend to pick up where you left off with her,
because you’ll have to go through me first.”
“Ah,” Wylie said, tension visibly draining from
his face, amusement taking its place. Cocky bastard.
“And where is it you think we left off?”
Marcus gripped the bottle in his hands to keep
from encircling the man’s neck and forced out the
words that twisted his gut. “I know you were lovers.”
“Did Charlotte tell you that?”
“She didn’t have to. Everyone on campus knew.”
All humor left Wylie’s face as he shifted to study
his empty glass, rolling it around in his hands. It
wasn’t so much guilt Marcus saw, though there was
some, but mostly frustration, as if he wanted to say
something and had to bite his tongue to keep from it.
Then he shrugged. “What happened between me and
Charlotte is ancient history. We’re different people
now. Besides, the Charlotte I remember wouldn’t
have bid on you. She wouldn’t have put herself in
that position. The fact that she did says a lot.”
Marcus bit back his own reply. He couldn’t very
well admit Charlotte hadn’t bid on him—at least not
with the intention of buying him—or that his
relationship with her was a lie. And his pride balked
at telling one of her ex-lovers she didn’t want more
from him than she could get from any man.
“And even if I’m wrong,” Wylie continued, “I’m
engaged.”
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Marcus snorted and pushed away from the bar.
“That little detail hasn’t stopped others.” He dug out
his wallet and covered their tab. “Thanks for giving
Charlotte a ride earlier, but from here out I’ll give
her whatever she needs.”
“You know, I’m beginning to think you don’t
know her very well if you think she’d pick up with
me or anyone else.”
“It’s not her I’m worried about.” The lie gnawed
at his gut as he turned to leave. She would probably
jump at the chance to reunite with Wylie if only for
the weekend, regardless of his affianced status, were
it not for the consequences of getting caught.
“Marcus, wait.” Again Wylie seemed to struggle
with his words. “What I had with Charlotte wasn’t
what you think.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s for you to ask her.”
“I’m asking you.”
“If she wants you to know, she’ll tell you.”
Wylie indicated Charlotte’s approach with a nod,
and Marcus was left to speculate the meaning
behind the man’s vague statement. Had they not
been lovers? He had a hard time swallowing that. No
matter the things he’d recently learned about her.
But the alternative tortured his very soul. What
if they’d been more than lovers? What if their
feelings had run deeper than anyone thought? What
if they still did?
****
headed toward the exit with the last of his
equipment. The restaurant manager shooed the
hovering waiter from their partially secluded table
in the corner of the candlelit dining room. “You two
did a great job for Max. He’ll make sure you’re taken
care of for the rest of the evening. Enjoy your meal.”
Charlotte clasped Grant’s hand with mixed
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Darah Lace
emotions. “I wish you wouldn’t go.”
He cast a cursory glance at Marcus in the chair
across from her then extricated his hand from hers
and bent to kiss her forehead. “As much as I’d like to
stay and catch up some more, you don’t need a third
wheel and Robyn’s waiting for me. I’ll see you in the
morning for the hotel shoot.”
She stared after him, somewhat relieved since
he might have accidentally let something slip, but
mostly amazed at how much she had allowed herself
to trust him not to. They’d made a pact in college
and he hadn’t betrayed her. Not then and not
tonight.
He paused at the door and waved. She smiled at
his boyish grin and waggled her fingers back at him.
She’d never had a male friend. Or at least not that
she’d realized. Turns out, she’d had one all along in
Grant Wylie. Too bad his kisses had never made her
lips burn, her breasts tighten, and her belly quiver.
Not like—
“How long has it been since you’ve seen Wylie?”
Charlotte flushed to find Marcus studying her
over a silver vase of red roses, his dark eyes void of
all emotion. She scooped a forkful of steak from her
plate, glad he couldn’t read minds. “Geez, it’s been
years. Not since college.”
At the first taste of the succulent beef topped
with sautéed mushrooms, onions and melted cheese,
she closed her eyes and moaned. Cardboard would
have tasted good after skipping breakfast and lunch,
but this was heavenly. Like an orgasm for her taste
buds.
When she opened her eyes to go for another bite
of bliss, Marcus was still watching her. More
specifically her mouth. His gaze dropped to the
untouched food on his plate. But not before she
noticed his eyes weren’t as blank as they had been
throughout the shoot.
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Feeling once more self-assured and a little more
in control, she pointed with her fork and asked,
“Aren’t you going to eat? It’s really wonderful.”
He picked up his wine glass and sat back. “I ate
too much at lunch.”
She scrunched her nose. “Lucky provided a nice
spread, but something about eating in the same area
where
animals
eat,
sleep
and
do
other
unmentionable things just doesn’t appeal.”
His lips quirked as she’d intended but thinned
again just before he drank the last of his wine. He’d
been quiet—more so than usual if that was
possible—and somewhat distracted during the
promo for the restaurant. Not that he hadn’t played
his part. He’d done and said all the right things. But
his hands hadn’t lingered on hers between poses.
He’d pulled them back to his side of the table. He
hadn’t glared or growled at Rick, not even when the
photographer put his clammy fingers on her back to
adjust her position.
Still a bit off balance because of the admission
he’d made at the bar about her hair, she hadn’t
noticed his withdrawal until after they arrived at
the restaurant. She had tried to take everyone’s
attention off him by chattering incessantly—
something she never did—with Grant and the
restaurant manager. Rick hadn’t complained so she
must have succeeded.
“Did you know he’d be here?”
She nodded then swallowed and raised the
napkin to wipe the corner of her mouth. Once again
Marcus’s gaze followed her actions, and she couldn’t
resist licking her lips. “He told me on the way to the
hotel this afternoon that he’d be at all the sponsor
promos.”
“No, I mean in Aspen.”
“Oh.” So the reason for his irritation hadn’t
changed. Grant remained his concern. “Yes, I knew.”
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Darah Lace
“So you’ve kept in touch?”
“No, Melody told me when she gave me the
itinerary.” Charlotte took a sip of water, then added,
“He looks good don’t you think? I’d forgotten how
gorgeous he was. Still is.”
His answer came in the form of a grunt as he
glanced out over the room and seemed to draw
inward. The waiter approached to freshen their wine
glasses, though hers remained full, and Charlotte let
Marcus deliberate in peace. She took the opportunity
to study him as he had her.
The minute the shoot ended, he had removed his
charcoal suit coat, loosened his multi-colored tie and
rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt. If
she thought him breathtakingly handsome before,
his casual appearance only enhanced the raw
sensuality she’d always responded to.
Jet-black hair fell over his brow to one side,
casting a shadow of mystery over brooding emerald
eyes. He’d shaved before meeting her in the bar, but
the smooth skin along his jaw revealed a hint of new
growth every time he clenched and unclenched his
jaw. The corded muscles of his bronzed forearms
bunched and relaxed as he gripped and released the
stem of his glass.
Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to keep prodding his
jealousy over Grant. If he continued to withdraw to