Carolina Heat (10 page)

Annabelle’s thoughts split in two directions. The first, knee-jerk reaction was the assumption he’d lied. Normal, caring, steady men were never attracted to her. More often they were completely turned off by her drive and achievements. Why should he be different?

The second train of thought barreled immediately on the heels of the first, but she didn’t know if it was any more accurate. Mark hadn’t given her a clear cut reason to mistrust him. Vanessa would tell her not to think the worst, give him a chance to explain. One way or another, something must be wrong.

The date was off to a great start, in her opinion. Annabelle and Mark shared a companionable silence, taking in the beauty of the beach. The tide was just beginning to turn, so waves still crashed into the shore with regularity. The sun was low, but nevertheless sparkled the water with light. The beach was almost deserted quiet enough to hear the wind rustling through the tall beach grass.

“This is a beautiful spot.”

“Thanks.” Mark grinned. “I made sure to clear it of all the jellyfish before I picked you up.”

“Jellyfish? Up here on the beach, out of the water?” Reflex pulled her legs off the sand and onto the blanket in one swift motion. Barefoot and in crisp khaki shorts, her clothes offered little protection.

“Only dead ones. There’s nothing to worry about. And there were only two.”

“You wouldn’t by any chance be pulling the leg of a confirmed city girl, would you?”

“Low blow.” He tugged her feet out from under her and back onto the sand. “And partially correct. I did want to see if I could get a rise out of you, but yes, there really were jellyfish. Completely harmless, though.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” She nudged open the top of the wicker picnic basket beside her. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving.”

“Subs from the best deli in town, with chocolate chip cookies for dessert and beer to wash it all down.”

“Sounds like perfect picnic food.” For several minutes they said nothing as they munched on the huge, dripping sandwiches.

“My mother used to take me on picnics in Central Park. She said it was important to appreciate small pleasures like this just as much as refined evenings at the opera.” Annabelle licked her fingers. Mark handed her a red-checked napkin.

“Wise woman, your mother. You spent a lot of time at the opera as a kid?”

“Too much,” she groaned. “One of the bigger pleasures I never learned to appreciate. It bores me to tears, if you want the truth. Every time I’m on the subway and even pass the stop for the Met I start to yawn."

“How do you feel about jazz? And let me warn you, our entire future hangs in the balance.”

“I love it,” she answered promptly.

“What a relief. If you’d answered any other way, I would’ve had to leave you here and call it a night. We take jazz very seriously down here.” He crumpled his sandwich wrapper and took a long swig of beer.

“Is that all you look for in a woman? Similar tastes in music?”

He shrugged. “It’s a good starting place.”

“And I suppose it’s a more legitimate requirement than big breasts and blonde hair.” Annabelle regretted letting that slip out.

Mark set down his beer and whistled softly. “Someone sure did a number on you. Where did you get such a low opinion of men?”

“Not all men,” she corrected. “Just your average, garden variety, lying snake disguised as a man. And unfortunately there are lots of them slithering around.”

“Darlin’, not everyone lies.”

“Oh yes, they do,” she said swiftly. “Everybody lies now and again. Some people just do it more often than others.” This was as good a time as any to bring up the niggling question of his earlier absence. “For instance, what about you? You said you had to work today. But as it turns out, you weren’t there, which means you lied. A small, social lie, I’m sure, but it does prove my point.”

He cocked his head in obvious confusion. “I did go to work today. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“No,” she said, with an emphatic wave of her beer. “I stopped by to surprise you, and the man driving
your
carriage said you hadn’t been there all day, and as far as he knew, you wouldn’t be back.” Annabelle felt a knot grow in her stomach. How could he look right at her and continue to lie?

Mark took a deep breath, then let it out on a sigh. “You
are
a quick one. I should have known how observant you’d be, what with being a writer. I was planning on telling you tonight, though. You beat me to the punch.”

“Tell me what, exactly?”

“Eddie—the man you spoke to this afternoon—he had it right. I don’t drive the carriage anymore.”

Annabelle’s anger vanished. “Were you too embarrassed to tell me you lost your job?” It was obvious Mark was uncomfortable. His hands fisted in his hair, and one foot wagged nervously.

“This is…well, you’ll…Damn it, Ashby told me I was an idiot for waiting to tell you.”

“Mrs. Haley’s son? What does he have to do with this?” Annabelle was even more mystified.

“He’s my best friend—and you’re living under his parents’ roof. Suffice it to say your name’s come up.”

“Really?” As curious as any woman to hear herself described, she leaned forward. “How exactly did it come up?”

Mark put his hands over hers. “Never mind. What I’m trying to say is that I’ve only been moonlighting as a tour guide. Actually, I’m currently employed by the College of Charleston as a professional researcher. There’s an elderly professor who wants to write one last, complex opus before retiring. I help him nail down the facts.”

“You’re putting me on.” Incredible, stunned disbelief flooded over her in an almost tangible wave. Before it could fully register, Mark continued.

“Nope, all true, I swear. My last job was for the National Museum in Cairo, coming up with background material for a new exhibit on a rather lackluster and unimportant pharaoh.
That
was a tough one. It’s a relief to come back home and dive into Professor Hubert’s project.”

“Uh huh.”

“Annabelle, talk to me. Laugh at me, swear at me, just say something, please!”

She looked down at the blanket and shook her head. Then she noticed his hands still covered hers.

“You can let go. I’m not going to run away screaming.”

“Oh, sorry.” But he still didn’t relinquish his grip.

“Why exactly
were
you moonlighting as a tour guide? It seems an unusual hobby.”

He broke into a huge grin. “There’s an amazing man, Clay Rutherford, who usually runs the tours. Actually, he oversees just about every horse trolley around town. I started working for him back in high school to save money for college. He ended up matching every penny I earned, and he did this all through college and graduate school when I came back in the summers. If it wasn’t for him, I’d probably be pumping gas right now.”

“Somehow I doubt it,” Annabelle said wryly.

“He had a heart attack about a week ago. He’ll be fine, but the whole company had to scramble to cover his shifts. He called and asked for my help. I’d planned to spend a week in between jobs bumming across Europe, but Clay needed me. Since I’m no good with the office work, I pitched in to cover a few shifts. But they finally hired a temporary replacement, starting today. Not full-time, but enough to take up the slack for the next few weeks.”

Annabelle stared out at the ocean. Mark was loyal to a fault, caring, generous with his time…unfortunately, no one was really
that
wonderful. It was a touching story, but there had to be a catch. With men, there was always a catch. She’d learned that the hard way.

Five years ago she and Connor bonded on a white knuckle flight into Dulles. Though he lived in D.C., the distance didn’t deter their newfound passion. Their relationship had a fresh, exciting edge, given that they only saw each other once or twice a month. Connor always stayed with her in a hotel room, claiming his roommate was a nightmare. But when she flew in for an unscheduled visit on Valentine’s Day, a knock on his apartment door was answered by a smiling woman who introduced herself as Connor’s wife.

Other jerks followed. She attracted them with stunning regularity. The final straw came almost two years ago. Annabelle had been sure all her bad luck with men was in the past. Vincent was a lawyer who shared her near-addiction to the mocha lattes in a little shop near her office. It was around the corner from his law firm, and it didn’t take too many chance meetings for them to share coffee on a regular basis. He had a good job, she’d been in his loft apartment many times, and everything was going great. After being together for nearly a year she was almost convinced this could be
it
.

And then he broke down in bed one night, sobbing like a child. Unbeknownst to her he’d been a frequent visitor to Atlantic City over the years. As his salary grew, so did the risks he took. He was deeply in debt at two separate casinos. Not the kind of debt where you declared bankruptcy and started all over, but the kind where you leave the country to avoid getting your legs broken. That night she came to the realization that shadowed her thoughts whenever she met an attractive man: every man had a fatal flaw. Some men had lots of little problems, but the ones who were too good to be true on paper were just that. After her last two disastrous break-ups, she wasn’t willing to waste the time waiting for his fatal flaw to appear.

“It’s a nice story, Mark, but it doesn’t explain why you played me for a fool.” She yanked her hands out of his and stood up. “I hope you enjoyed your little game, because it’s definitely over now.” She reached for her sandals, but Mark got there first. He held them just out of reach and walked toward the surf.

“No way, Ms. Carlyle. You have a nasty habit of trying to bolt in the middle of a discussion and I’m not finished explaining. You can give me your frosty, Northern glare and judge me all you want when I’m finished.”

Annabelle’s gaze was indeed icy. But again, a good deal of her frustration was directed at herself for losing control. Honestly, this man provoked her temper unlike anyone else. Five minutes from a deadline and stuck on Fifth Avenue in traffic? No problem. About to miss her flight to D.C. to interview the Secretary of State? Annabelle constantly took anything life tossed her way in stride, but Mark Dering pushed buttons she didn’t even know she had.

“Fine. But on our walk at the Battery, at dinner last night—you’ve had every opportunity to mention what you do for a living. This had better be one world class explanation.”

“Well, don’t hold your breath,” he snapped as he stood. “In fact, it’s probably one of the worst excuses you’ll ever hear in your entire life.”

She crossed her arms, tossed her hair, and gave him a saccharine smile. “Oh, in that case, I’m all ears.”

“I’m boring.”

“What?”

“My work, as a researcher, is boring. Dull as toast. Sleep inducing, or so everyone says.”

“Everyone who?”

He began to tick them off on his fingers. “Let’s see—my parents, my friends, and,” he gave a short, humorless laugh, “especially every single woman I date. They say my work is boring, or it’s all I talk about, and then I bore them silly.” Mark turned away from her to face the sinking sun. “When I met you, we didn’t exchange any of the usual information about jobs. Then when you joined my tour, I figured it was a chance to be someone else for a few hours. Someone who wouldn’t bore you to tears in the first ten minutes. Then when you actually seemed interested, I didn’t want to stop being that other person.”

Annabelle was stunned. All her anger melted away at his words. “You are the least boring person I’ve ever met.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. It shocked her that he’d think that. Mark was one of the most interesting men she’d ever met.

His shoulder jerked beneath her grip. “I’m not big on pity, Annabelle.”

“Believe me, this isn’t pity. You infuriate me, you make me laugh, you make me lose control, and you excite me. But you most assuredly do not bore me.”

He rubbed his cheek against her hand and swung around. “But—” he began, and then squinted his eyes.

“What is it? What do you see?”

“At first I thought it was just a coincidence, but now I’m pretty sure…” his voice trailed away. She twisted to match his line of sight, but he grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her close.

“Don’t turn around. Someone’s watching us. His binoculars aren’t trained high enough to be looking at the ocean. For whatever reason, we’re the ones in his sights.”

Alarm bells rang loud and clear in Annabelle’s head. She put her hands on either side of Mark’s face and stood on tiptoe to bring herself to his eye level.

“Is he wearing a camera around his neck and an obnoxiously loud Hawaiian shirt?”

“How did you know?” When she was silent, he snatched her hands from his face and held them at her sides. He spoke through gritted teeth. “Answer me, damn it. It’s obvious you understand whatever’s going on right now. I have a right to know.”

She bit her lip in frustration. Blowing her cover was the only option. This was at least twice she’d been spotted with Mark. If she left him in the dark he could be in danger without even knowing why.