Carrying a fast-food salad with low-fat dressing and a wedge of chocolate cake for comfort, she dragged her way up the stairs, judiciously avoiding looking at Mark's door--wondering what he was doing and why he'd gotten so angry with her and if she should try to talk to him about his abrupt departure from her bedroom--and walked across the landing toward her apartment.
Out of nowhere, an arm curled around her waist and dragged her back against a big body, holding her so tightly she couldn't turn and fight. Panic flamed in her blood. It flared higher the instant she struggled and realized she was trapped. The man grabbed the fast-food bag from her hand and dropped it to the floor. Then he raised his palm to cover her eyes, plunging the corridor that was drenched in early evening sunlight into darkness. Her heart crashed against her chest.
Oh, God!
Refusing to panic, Nicki tried to remember her self-defense training, reinforced by an occasional watching of
Miss Congeniality.
He anticipated an elbow to the stomach, and she encountered only air when she thrust hers back. Next, she went for his instep, lifting her leg to stomp down as hard as she could on his foot. But he predicted that move, too, and managed to move out of her way. With her back against his hard chest, she had no way of reaching his nose or groin. Frantic now, she tried a head butt, but only managed to bang the back of her head against a muscled pectoral.
Now what? She wasn't willing to be some psycho's entertainment for the evening.
Then his scent hit her. Musky. A pine forest, earth, and man thrown together with a hint of spice. Definitely male. Definitely familiar.
Mark.
Oh, no!
"You scared me to death! Why didn't you tell me it was you?"
"Because I knew you would figure it out and you wouldn't struggle any less if I told you."
Bastard! As she continued to wriggle against him, straining for freedom, Nicki felt his erection at the small of her back, the one that had haunted her lonely nights lately with remembrances drenched in devastating pleasure. She thrashed and squirmed ... until she realized he was only getting harder, bigger.
"You're exciting the hell out of me, baby. Is that what you intended by wiggling all over my cock?" He growled in her ear.
No. Well, maybe. It would serve him right. The man was confusion on legs. "Let go, damn it! You work for me--"
"Not until seven o'clock, I don't."
With that, he lifted her from the floor, turning her so he could sling her over one of his linebacker shoulders. He palmed her bare thigh beneath her miniskirt, which suddenly felt way too small for this occasion. His hand crept up, dangerously close to her ass. That, combined with her gripping the stunning muscles of his back as she looked for a way down, only made her blood begin to heat and her panties a bit more damp than they should be.
"Don't be a Neanderthal!"
That remark merely earned her another grunt as he walked three steps, slammed a door, and set her on her feet in front of him.
Nicki nearly fainted. Mark looked enormous in the small, low-ceilinged foyer of his apartment. In a body-hugging black T-shirt that emphasized the green of his eyes, which drew her gaze like a beacon, he hovered over her with shuttered eyes and an expression she couldn't quite read. Something about it, about him, made her retreat a step.
Her back hit the wall.
"I'll stop being a Neanderthal, if you stop being a preschooler," he murmured, his low voice vibrating inside her.
She loved the sound of that voice, rich and smooth, like chocolate over good sex. In fact, she loved it so much, it took her a minute to process his actual words.
"A preschooler? What the hell does that mean? You're the one who stormed out--"
"I did. I know it. And I've spent four days trying to apologize. The preschooler part came when you refused to listen, ignored my messages and peace offerings, ducked out of any room I entered, and watched my practice from the safety of your little second-floor perch."
He'd known she was there? Oops ... "I wasn't interested in hearing your apology."
"You were afraid to talk to me. Either way, it's childish."
Tired of looking up at him, Nicki put her hands on her hips and rose to her tiptoes. Even so, she couldn't compete with Mark's towering height.
"I resent that."
"I resent being ignored when I'm trying to tell you that I know I fucked up. I really am sorry. Can't you just hear what I have to say?"
She hesitated, her mind turning his request over. Sighing, she glanced up into his hazel eyes, fringed by thick, dark lashes. Just gorgeous. But she wasn't a sucker. She didn't cave in just because someone had their feelings hurt. She did, however, try to be reasonable.
Besides, she was curious.
"Fine. You've got three minutes. I'll listen. I don't think it matters, but whatever."
"Back to being Commando Bitch, huh?"
"Why are you making this about me, when it's your lousy behavior we're supposed to be discussing?"
Mark shrugged, then leaned in, anchoring one massive palm on the wall next to her head. "Because we can't get there until your attitude improves, and your cinnamony scent is driving me out of my mind."
Seriously? Another glance into those mysterious eyes of his revealed banked lust, a hint of teasing, of promise.
The look told her without a word that if she didn't get some space between them fast, Mark would do everything in his power to get her naked and on her back. And she'd likely comply, given the fact that her determination that their one-night stand had reached its expiration date was getting shaky. His expression was slow-cooking her, and without distance, she'd soon agree with his ideas and sort out everything else later. Much later.
Nicki ducked under his arm and shimmied away from the wall, heading for the relatively open space of the living room.
A glance back at the breakfast nook proved that the computer equipment Lucia mentioned Mark having was nowhere in sight. But it did point her nose in the direction of the kitchen and make her aware of the heavenly smell of Italian food, ripe with oregano and hot sausage.
She also saw that Mark was bearing down on her fast.
"Damn it, Nicki."
"You've got two minutes left, and you're wasting your time."
Cursing, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Fine, you get the Cliff's Notes version. I freaked. Okay?"
"Freaked?"
Mark sighed. "Being with you was ... mind-blowing. It was beyond sex. I realized it would be too easy for me to fall for you." He looked down, then away. "I knew you liked the sex, but that doesn't translate to you liking
me."
"You knew I liked the sex?" Gee, most guys usually asked if it was good.
A little smile tipped up the comer of his mouth. "I guessed so, anyway, since I still have the imprints of your fingernails on my shoulders."
Good point ... A flush crept up her face, which he was polite enough to ignore.
"Why would you think I wouldn't like you?" she countered. "Contrary to whatever is running through your head, I don't go to bed with guys I don't give a damn about."
Mark nodded, his eyes unreadable ... "When I stopped and thought about how sex had been between us, about you in general, I figured you weren't the kind of woman to just nail anyone. I knew I'd screwed up royally and started trying to apologize the next morning. In fact, I didn't sleep that night at all, I felt so damn stupid."
Well, that made her feel better, but still didn't answer her question. What had set him off in the first place?
"But I was angry, too. You didn't have any place to be at ten the next morning, did you?" Nicki didn't know what to say, and her silent pause shouted her guilt. "So why tell me you did, unless you wanted me gone? I wasn't in a hurry to go."
Nicki bit her lip. Had she been the culprit? Gosh, in trying to keep things simple between them, maybe she'd done more harm than good. "When you said you wanted to stay, I wasn't sure what you meant."
"So you thought you'd get rid of me first thing in the morning, just to make sure I didn't overstay my welcome?"
"Sort of." Guilt filled her, thick as the smoke in an old casino. "It's just a bad time for me to be distracted. And you're a huge distraction!"
Mark flashed her a dimpled, heart-melting smile. Damn, did the man have to be so yummy all the time?
"My business consumes so much time and energy," Nicki pressed on. "I haven't had a real date with a guy who doesn't work in this building in over two years. I-I enjoyed our night together. It definitely meant something to me."
More than it should.
"I just don't think it's smart to continue this ... fling."
"Ah. But a one-night stand is okay?"
Nicki winced at the sarcasm that edged his voice. "Is that a problem? I don't remember any exchange of commitments before we hit the sheets."
Why was he angry? Most guys would love a woman who just wanted a night of great sex and then just walked away. Except he'd confessed that he felt like he could fall for her. That made a bevy of tingles take up residence in her belly.
She didn't want to want him, but she still did. And it wasn't just about sex.
His insecurity made no sense. Seriously, why would a guy as gorgeous and great in bed as Mark worry that she wouldn't fall for him? Nicki was uncomfortably aware that Mark could easily--probably too easily--persuade her to allow their one night to melt into many. It seemed surreal that Adonis in a G-string would worry about her not reciprocating. He had to have women coming out his ears. Instead, his being "freaked" seemed like the act of someone who ...
Wait a minute! She remembered a comment he'd made before she'd hired him that had her rethinking the whole situation.
"Some stupid bitch hurt you."
Mark's gaze zipped to hers. Sharpened. He blinked and stared, clearly surprised that she had figured it out.
Face taut, eyes wary, he nodded.
Apparently, Mark had been the dumpee, rather than the dumper, and he'd "freaked" the other night in her apartment because he'd been hurt before.
"Back in Florida, just before you left, right?"
He nodded again and turned away this time, meandering across the room.
If Nicki had a pair of Elvis's blue suede shoes, she'd bet them that this dumb-ass woman was one of the main reasons Mark had left Florida. She'd love to say that the other woman's loss was her gain, but Nicki wasn't having a relationship with an employee--or anything other than her fledgling business or her vibrator.
Still, she couldn't resist asking, "Want to tell me about it?" "No."
His soft, swift reply somehow made his point more emphatically than if he'd yelled. He did not want to discuss it.
Nicki tried to be mature and understanding. Of course the man didn't want to spill his guts. They weren't dating. In fact, she was trying, however halfheartedly, to end the fling. Mark had only known her for a few weeks. Guys weren't into sharing emotions unless forced. She shouldn't expect otherwise.
But a part of her did. She was expected to happily take a man into her body, even if it was temporary, give of herself, and he didn't have to share anything in return except an erection and a little semen?
"Any chance she's back in your life? Or coming back?" "No."
Well, that made her feel better ... and worse. Based on what Mark said and the bit of digging she'd done about him, this relationship had to have ended a year ago, give or take a few weeks. He still wasn't letting anyone near him, at least not more than physically. Nicki knew she should be happy about that. Thrilled, even. Now was not a good time for her to be preoccupied by romance, even if the sex was wonderful.
A loud electronic beep filled the room a few moments later, startling her.
Mark, on the other hand, looked really relieved. Saved by the bell ...
"What was that?"
"Dinner." His voice came out in a low rumble. "It's ready. I made lasagna for you, along with salad and garlic bread. I really want you to stay so I can prove that I didn't mean to insult you."
Lasagna. Her favorite. How had he known? Lucia? No, she wouldn't spit on Mark if he was on fire right now. Blade? The idea was so ludicrous, she nearly laughed. Had to be Zack.
Damn. She didn't want to stay. Trying but not succeeding to mentally relegate him to the one-time-fuck category made her feel spineless, a feeling she just hated. But Mark had gone to the trouble to ferret out her favorite food and--had he made it himself?--so that she wouldn't feel hurt or slighted by the fact he'd shut her out in self-defense, and it only made Nicki want to kill the bitch who'd made him gun shy.
Then she wanted to slap some sense into Mark.
But he wasn't ready to hear it today. It really wasn't her business, anyway. Even if, despite everything logical, she wanted it to be. Still, she knew her stubborn streak too well. She wouldn't keep her feelings about this to herself for long.
"Okay, I'll stay," she assured him. "It smells great. Thanks."
The set of his shoulders visibly relaxed. Gosh, he really didn't want her mad at him. Was he interested in more than one night? If he was, it didn't matter. If he wasn't, that didn't matter, either. But she had no reason or desire to hurt his feelings. He apparently had gone to a good deal of trouble to soothe hers.
Against her will, Nicki was touched.
"If you want to wash up in the bathroom, I'll get everything out," he said into the awkward silence.
Her smile felt stilted, but she flashed it at him anyway. "Beats the hell out of my fast-food salad."
Mark hesitated. "That's what was in your bag?"
"Along with a gooey piece of chocolate cake." She smiled sheepishly.
He turned toward the apartment door, opened it, then returned a few moments later with her bag. "Thanks for bringing dessert!"