Catch a Mate (26 page)

Thank God. Not suicide. His relief was tangible. “Let me see. Your wrists, not the table.” Gently he gripped one of her arms and unwound the cloth. There were multiple cuts, the one directly on her tendon the deepest, but they were already drying. He examined the other arm. It had a few more cuts, but nothing deep. “I don't think you need stitches.”

“Good.” She exhaled a shuddering breath.

He re-bandaged her arms with fresh towels, then scooped her up and settled into the chair with her on his lap. She instantly cuddled close. “I was scared,” he admitted.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“I thought you'd tried to kill yourself.”

She snorted weakly. “As if I would ever do something like that. Apparently I'm like my mom, or so she tells me, but I couldn't put the people I love through that.”

“You said you'd cut your wrists,” he accused.

She chuckled. “And I didn't lie.”

Happy to be with her again—and holding her—he tightened his grip and simply breathed in her scent. “I'm glad you called me.”

“Me, too.”

She yawned and he felt the warm exhalation of her breath. “I went to see my dad today. I hadn't seen him in years and I kind of had an emotional breakdown when I got home. A good breakdown, though.” She yawned again. “He told me how much he loves me. I was just so overcome with regret, I hit the table.”

“No reason to regret. You have many, many years with him to look forward to.” His stomach clenched as longing washed through him. He wanted years with her. He wanted to look forward to them. Thinking she had tried to kill herself…He squeezed her all the tighter.

She sighed, weary. “Will you stay here for a while?”

“Of course.” He closed his eyes, sucked in a deep breath. Home, he was home, and there was no place he'd rather be.

“I'm too tired right now, but maybe in a little while we could talk.”

“I'd like that.” No way in hell she'd be able to get rid of him now. When she woke up, he'd make her understand that they were meant to be together. “Go to sleep, baby. I'll be right here.”
I'm never letting you go.

She curled deeper into him and was asleep a second later.

M
ARCUS AWOKE
as something buzzed in his pocket. He slowly cracked open his eyelids. Darkness had fallen. Thin strands of moonlight dripped throughout—a brown room? Confused, he blinked and tried to orient himself.

Jillian was in his arms, on his lap. They were sitting on her recliner. She was quiet, still and warm. Asleep. The buzz in his pocket continued.

Frowning, he dug out his cell and quietly answered. “Yeah?”

“Marcus,” Jake said. “I need you to come over to my place. Something's happened.”

“I can't.” Softly, gently, he kissed Jillian's temple.

“Please. It's important. And hurry.”
Click.

Marcus's frown intensified. He replaced his phone in his pocket, careful not to disturb Jillian. He glanced at her. Her head rested against his shoulder and her expression was soft, sweet. Damn it. He hated to leave her.

He also hated to wake her. She'd been so tired, so despondent. He knew she needed whatever rest she could get. Easing to his feet, he balanced her light weight in his arms. God, he loved this woman.

To think, he was holding the most important part of his life right now. When he'd stopped seeing her as an enemy and started seeing her as a partner, he didn't know. He was only glad that it was so.

He carried her to the bedroom and laid her down gently. She mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over with a sigh. He took off her shoes and pulled the cover over her lower half, then he kissed her cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered.

He checked her wrists again to make sure they hadn't started bleeding, then wrote her a note, telling her where he was going so she wouldn't worry if she woke up. He wouldn't leave for anyone except Jake. Jake had seen him through some tough times, and he had always vowed to do the same for his friend, who still suffered some pretty bad days over Claire's death.

Marcus left before he changed his mind. Really, what the hell was wrong with Jake? His friend had never called him and begged him to come by like that.

He sped to their apartment building and this time he
was
pulled over. He took the ticket without protest and hurried on. At Jake's door, he knocked. The TV was too loud and he could hear laughter.

“Jake,” he called, knocking again.

A second later, his friend opened the door. To Marcus's shock, he was grinning ear to ear. “Welcome to the party.”

Sweet Jesus.

Joe appeared in the doorway and latched onto his arm, tugging him inside. “Don't even think about leaving.”

“I thought something was wrong,” Marcus said darkly.

“It was,” Jake replied. “You weren't here.”

“Jillian—”

“Nope. Don't even say her name. You've been an ass lately and it's time you released some of your stress. With someone receptive.”

Women were everywhere, he realized. Every color, shape, and size. He tangled his hand through his hair. “Guys, I don't need your help releasing stress. I'm doing fine on my own. Jillian—”

“No, you're not and don't say her name,” Rafe said, his arms wrapped around a blonde and a brunette. “It's a smorgasbord tonight, so start filling your plate.” The girls twittered at his side.

Kyle walked over, a redhead in tow. He urged her to Marcus's side and nodded. “Now, don't you two look cute together.”

Marcus tried to give the woman back, but she latched on to his waist. “Kyle told me to show you a good time.” Biting her lower lip, she ran her finger over his collarbone.

He looked away, desperate for escape. Matt stood off to the side, talking with Amelia. When Marcus saw her, he groaned. He and Jillian were still on shaky ground. If Amelia told her about some woman hanging on his arm, it could crack that ground into a million unfixable pieces. Trust was a big thing and hard to win back. Not that he'd done anything wrong, but Jillian was bait and she wouldn't believe that. She would only see the implication.

“Well,” he heard a woman say—and it was the sound of his worst nightmare. He whipped around. Of course she'd followed him. He would have done the same thing.
Should have expected it.

Jillian stood in the doorway as if he'd conjured her. He tore the redhead from his side and leapt forward. “Jillian, this isn't what it looks like.”

“I heard you leave, got up and read your note.” Her voice was emotionless, and she was gazing around the apartment. “I didn't have your cell number, so I came here to make sure everything was okay.”

“It's not what it looks like,” he said again. He reached her just as the music stopped; all conversation stopped, in fact. He didn't care. He'd make a fool of himself if need be. He grabbed her by the shoulder before she decided to run. Thankfully, she made no move to pull away. “Let's go to my apartment. Let's talk about this.”

She surprised him by saying, “Okay.” But her face was as withdrawn as her tone.

What was going through her mind?

He ushered her out the door and down the hall. No one tried to stop him. He unlocked his apartment and led her inside, to his bedroom. Still she didn't protest. Determined to have his say, he reached under his mattress and withdrew a pair of cuffs he'd purchased with her in mind. Without any type of explanation, he cuffed his wrist, then cuffed hers over the bandage.

“What are you doing?” she asked, confused. Good, a show of emotion.

“Making sure you can't get away. We're going to talk this out.”

“Marcus, there's no need.”

Eyes narrowed, he tossed the key in the hallway. “Damn it, nothing happ—”

“I know.”

Her words penetrated his mind, and he stilled. “You know?”

“I know nothing happened.”

“Wait.
How
do you know that? I was holding another woman. Or rather, she was holding me.”

“I trust you.” Looking unsure, she gazed down at their hands. “And I…love you, so I'm going to trust you, no matter how bad things appear.”

He blinked in surprise. “Wait. What?”

“I love you.”

Again, what? “You love me?”

“Yes.”

Slowly he grinned. “Well, hell, baby. I love you, too.”

Tears filled her eyes and she covered her mouth with her free hand. “Really? Even though this happened so quickly?”

“Even though. I think I knew the moment I laid eyes on you. Whether I've known you one day or one year doesn't make a difference to me. I love you so much, and I'm going to sign half of the business to you. From now on, we'll be partners and make business decisions together. Also, I'm moving in with you. And don't even think about telling me no, because we're getting married and married people live together.”

The quick flash of joy on her face was followed by concern. “I don't want special treatment on the job, Marcus. I just—”

“Believe me.” He held up his hand. “There's no special treatment. I trust your instincts for building CAM. And if I didn't, well, I'd still make you report to me as an employee. You'd just have a different title. Love Slave.”

Her lips twitched. “In that case, I accept. All of it.” With a whoop, she threw her arm around him and kissed the line of his jaw. “But we have to stop being bait. No more flirting with other people. I want you all to myself.”

“Done,” he said, happier than he'd ever been in his life. “We've got to have had the weirdest courtship in history.”

“Think we'll make it?” she asked, kissing him full on the mouth.

“Absolutely. You can test me anytime you want.”

“C
AN
I
BUY YOU
a drink?”

Marcus glanced at the woman propositioning him. She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen—but he knew she was bait. He glanced at his watch, the picture of boredom. “No, thanks,” he said, his tone heavy with dismissal.

She ran her fingertip over his shirtsleeve. “Let me buy you a drink, pretty please with a cherry on top. I'd love to get to know you, and one drink won't hurt.”

“No. I'm sorry.”

“Please.”

“No.”

She paused, chewed on her bottom lip. “I just moved to Oklahoma City. How's the…weather?”

Oh, damn. The one conversation topic he couldn't resist. Every muscle in his body stiffened. “It's hot. Real hot.” He sighed, glanced again at his watch. “All right. Fine. One drink. But we have to hurry. I don't want my wi—mom to find out.”

“We'll hurry.” The woman told the bartender to bring them two Fuzzy Navels and turned back to him. “I noticed that you keep looking at your watch. Are you waiting for your wi—mom?”

“Yep. I'm divorced and Mother's been my only source of comfort lately.”

“You're divorced?” She leaned in closer to him, fragrant and warm. “Oh, you poor thing.
I'd
like to comfort you.”

Unable to resist her a moment longer, he slid his arm around her waist. “That sounds like a good idea. How about we go back to my place?”

Jillian grinned. “Will you do bad, bad things to me?”

“It will be my greatest pleasure.”

For the past year, he and Jillian had celebrated their monthly anniversary this way. He always looked forward to it. And it was the only time either of them acted as bait anymore; they'd both given it up and now simply ran CAM. The employees were ecstatic about their partnership because Jillian kept him in line. She'd even brought back spa day. The girls always asked Marcus to join them, citing his need for a Calypso Coral pedicure to match the lipstick he was often spotted wearing after one-on-one meetings with Jillian.

Thanks to their combined efforts and the hard work of the CAM team, the business had reached a whole new level and their financial concerns were a thing of the past. Their sister-in-law, Georgia, now ran CAM's counseling center for victims of infidelity, which Jillian had opened next door. Some of the clients were even hooking up. Marcus grinned at the thought, knowing firsthand that there was nothing like the common bond of betrayal to draw two people together. Georgia and Brent were happier than ever, and they'd become Marcus's new poker buddies.

Marcus had never gotten around to unpacking the boxes in his apartment. He'd moved into Jillian's house right away. She, of course, had made him unpack everything immediately. The beige decor remained, but he'd helped her mess things up a bit by “christening” every room.

Jillian's dad was married now and Jillian had been his best man. Marcus had never seen a happier dad. Or a better-looking best man. Removing that tux had been sexy fun. (Words he'd never thought he would entertain.)

Yep. Love was in the air. His mother-in-law was a new woman, happily dating and no longer trying to feed him poisoned cookies. Anne was happily married to her boy toy and came to visit often, claiming she was proud of the new, improved and willing-to-take-chances Jillian. His men were doing well, as were his female employees. Rule two was a thing of the past, so Matt and Amelia were dating, fighting, dating, fighting. They'd end up together, he thought, once they stopped combating it. Neither one of them had any idea just how good a loving relationship could be. But they'd find out, he had no doubt.

Jake was the only person Marcus was worried about, because the stubborn man still refused to date. One day, though, Marcus knew Jake would find someone else. One day. Love was too powerful to deny.

Jillian had started her Swine Whine Web site, listing the city's most unwanted dates—repeat offenders who were never going to change—complete with a ranking system. Danielle, Selene and Becky had soon taken that over, however, posting pictures of cheating men and women with
Most Unwanted
stamped under their faces.

For his birthday, Jillian had given Marcus a photo of himself with
Most Wanted
stamped across his smiling mug. He'd hung it in his office to show his clients that a happy ending
was
possible.

“Next time,” Marcus said to his wife, his love, “I get to be the bait.” For now, it was time to take her home so he could get started on those bad, bad things.

“I'm too easy to catch,” she said, pouting up at him. “You, at least, put up a two-minute fight.”

Grinning wickedly, he paid for their drinks. “Baby, catching you is the best part.”