His Fair Lady (12 page)

“Awww, such a good son.” This was said with a glance at Josie. “Well, invite her along. I’d like to meet her.”

The tea Josie had just sipped went down the wrong way, and she choked. Holy God, her life was turning into a cross between a disaster flick and one of those stupid romantic comedies in which the plot bordered on the absurd.

Mark took the mug from her hand, then patted her between the shoulder blades until she caught her breath. “Are you okay, babe?”

Josie caught her mother’s fleeting raised eyebrows as if to say
and what is this babe thing?

And no, she was totally not okay. She was about as far from okay as she had ever been. But because saying so would inevitably bring a spate of unwanted questions, Josie nodded and reached for a cookie.

Chapter Nine

What the hell was he doing in the library at barely nine o’clock on Saturday morning?

Searching for a girl who didn’t return his calls or texts and who closed him out when her mother came to town. Not that he especially wanted to have dinner with Mrs. Frazier, but the invitation had so obviously horrified Josie, he had felt honor bound to formulate an excuse why he and his mother couldn’t join them. Now here he was spending his Saturday morning looking for that same girl.

Mark rounded the bend in the stairs and started up the second flight. As he reached the top, his phone vibrated in his pocket, signaling the arrival of a text. Finally!

He drew the phone from his pocket and looked at the screen.

Vi.

Ugh.

Mark groaned.

need 2 tlk 2 u. meet me? Its important!!!

Yeah, right. That was so not happening.

He returned the phone to his pocket and scanned the tables he could see from the top of the stairs. Josie was not among the sparse scattering of early morning studiers. Maybe he should go back to the basement and check the private study-group rooms again.

“Hey, Mark.”

Mark turned. Vi’s best friend, Brianna, stood on the stairs right behind him. Though he’d gotten to know Brie pretty well through Vi, and maybe because of that, he had never much liked her and avoided her whenever possible. But it probably wouldn’t kill him to be nice.

“Hey, Brie, how’s it going?”

“Good, all things considered.” She smiled like she knew something he didn’t, or had something on him. But then she always smiled like that.

“You looking for Vi?” she asked.

“No.”

“Because I think she’s looking for you.”

“I was actually looking for Josie Frazier.”

“Um…”

“Freshman, tall, long red hair, theater major.”

Brie rolled her eyes. “I know who you mean. God, Mark.”

“I was supposed to meet her here,” Mark lied.

“I haven’t seen her, and I’ve been here since seven.”

“Seven, why?”

“It’s my work study. I’m a library assistant, remember?” She shifted the stack of books she carried from one arm to the other.

Mark started to say
If you see her, tell her I’m looking for her
, then thought better of it. “Okay, well—”

“Have you checked the carrels in the back?”

Mark shook his head. “I forgot about them. Does anybody go back there?”

“Yeah, well, not many people use them, but if you guys want privacy, if you know what I mean.”

She smirked and fluttered her lashes.

Mark ignored the implication. It was crap like that that made him dislike this girl. The funny thing was, if someone else said or did that, he would shrug it off without a second thought. He could shrug it off from her too. She was just a twit, after all.

“Thanks, I’ll look back there.”

“If I see her, I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Don’t bother
. But somehow he managed just a simple thanks as he walked away.

He struck gold in the last carrel in the back row. First he saw her jacket on the back of the chair, then her. She leaned over the desk, her head resting on her crossed arms, which rested atop her closed laptop. She was asleep.

Not wanting to startle her, he approached quietly and didn’t touch her.

“Joes?”

She jumped like he’d shot off a gun. Her head came up, and she turned in a single motion. Her surprise morphed into annoyance.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she accused.

“Sorry. I can see you’re all involved in… Something. How’s the paper going?”

“Fine. I was just taking a break.”

“Mm-hmm. Getting a lot done?”

She shrugged. “A decent amount.”

“What class is it for again?”

“Shakespeare. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.” Mark dragged a chair from the next carrel over and straddled it, propping his arms on the back, essentially blocking her in.

Josie narrowed her eyes. “Why are you looking for me?”

“I thought maybe you could use some help. Since the pressure’s on and all.”

“That’s okay.”

“I took a Shakespeare class last semester. Want me to read what you have so far?”

Was that a flash of panic he saw in her eyes?

“It’s not really ready for anybody to read. It probably wouldn’t even make any sense to you. I’m such a messy writer.” She smiled, but it never reached her eyes.

“What’s the topic?”

“The topic?”

“Of the paper.”

“Oh. I haven’t really settled on one yet.”

“How could you start writing it if you don’t have the topic?”

“What is with you and the fifty million questions?”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“Yeah? Well don’t. Just go away.”

“Joes…” Mark caught a lock of her hair and wrapped it around his fingers. God, he was crazy about her hair.

“Fine.” Josie flung out her hands in a helpless gesture of surrender. “You know what? There is no paper. I lied. Are you happy now?”

It was a mystery why she would think that would make him happy. But it was sort of satisfying to know his hunch had been right and there was no paper with a pressing deadline.

He let go of her hair. “Why’d you tell your mom you had a paper to write? And just as a point of reference, if you’re going to lie, try to be more consistent.”

“What?”

“Last night you said the paper was for astronomy.”

“You trapped me! You asshole!”

“I couldn’t have entrapped you if you weren’t lying.” She opened her mouth and he shushed her. “But that doesn’t matter. Why’d you lie to your mom? And if you don’t have a paper, what are you doing in the library at nine-fifteen on a Saturday morning?”

“God!” Josie covered her face with her hands.

“You might as well tell me because I’m not leaving until you do.” Even if she did tell him he wasn’t leaving, but she didn’t need to know that.

Josie lowered her hands and blew out a breath.

“It’s complicated. But let’s just say, I didn’t want her to come. So when she did, I thought if I said I had a bunch of work and would be tied up all weekend, she would leave. Well, you saw how that worked out.”

“Like not at all.”

“Exactly. As for why I’m here, sitting in this crappy chair in this stupid study carrel, I had to go somewhere because I’m supposed to be writing this paper.”

“The paper that doesn’t exist.”

“Right.”

“Come to my room.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not? Sure you can.”

“What about your roommate?”

“Masterson went home for the weekend. He hates spring festival. The room’s totally empty. And it’s the perfect hideout. Nobody will look for you there. So c’mon.”

Mark stood and returned the chair to the other carrel. But Josie didn’t move.

“What about your mom? I thought you said she’s coming up today.”

“She’s at the craft show. She won’t be back for hours.”

“What if she comes back early?”

“I’m picking her up later this afternoon. She won’t be back until I go get her.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Where will you go if I’m in your room?”

“It’s my room. I don’t have to go anywhere.”

She lowered her lashes and smiled a little. “How do I know you’ll behave?”

“You don’t. But I will if you will.”

* * * *

She let him carry her laptop bag. Not because she couldn’t carry it herself, but because it was kind of nice to have a guy carry her stuff for her. It made her feel feminine. It might have been silly, but there it was.

Mark stuck his key in the lock, then paused and turned to Josie. “It’s kind of a mess. I’m just warning you. Masterson’s a pig.”

“And I guess you’re a paragon of neatness.”

“You bet.”

They grinned at each other, and Mark opened the door.

It wasn’t that bad. Not that much worse than her own bedroom. Neither bed was made, but the one on the right at least had the comforter pulled up. The comforter itself was a pretty blue patchwork with all shades from palest sky to deepest navy represented. Because her mom was a quilter, she could tell it was handmade. Clothing lay scattered over the institutional tan carpet—socks, underwear, shirts, jeans, and workout gear. Impossible to say whether it was clean or dirty. The closet door stood open, as did most of the drawers in both dressers. Only the desks were halfway neat.

Josie channeled Kyle’s drama-queen persona. She clutched her chest and pretended to swoon.

“Oh my heart,” she said in her best imitation of a Southern belle.

Mark laughed. “You’re made of stronger stuff than that. Besides, you’re forgetting, I’ve seen your place. C’mon, man up.”

Josie laughed too. She almost didn’t notice the twinge she felt at the expression “man up.”

“Yes, I am made of stronger stuff.” She looked around. “So Masterson’s the slob, huh?”

“Yeah, he’s always coming over to my side of the room and throwing shit around. Have a seat. Want something to drink?”

“Sure, what do you have?”

Josie pulled out the desk chair, saw it held additional laundry of questionable cleanliness, then sat down on the bed with the pretty blue comforter.

Mark walked to the minifridge, opened it, and peered inside. “I guess you don’t want a beer.”

“It’s not even ten in the morning.”

“Wait.” He rummaged around, then pulled out a can of Diet Coke. “Ta-da! Want this?”

“Whose is it?”

“Um…”

“Don’t tell me. It’s a leftover from one of your old girlfriends, isn’t it?”

“No way. It was—”

“Don’t tell me. Masterson’s old girlfriends. Riiight.” She took the can, popped the top, and drank.

“You want some music on?”

“Sure.”

Mark walked to his desk and woke the laptop. He tapped a few keys, and the sultry voice of Etta James filled the room.

“You like Etta James?”

“I like this song. I don’t know any of her other stuff.”

The song was “At Last,” and Josie began to hum softly along with the music.

“Will you sing it?”

She laughed. “You don’t need me. You’ve got Etta.”

“I like the way you sang it for your audition. Will you sing it for me, please?”

“I guess so.” Pleasure brought a flush of heat to Josie’s cheeks. Mark started the song over, and Josie began to sing.

She’d sung only a few lines when Mark crossed to her, took the empty Coke can from her hand, and set it aside. He pulled her to her feet and into his arms. He began to sway, and she swayed with him as she sang. After a few moments, he joined his voice with hers, softly at first, then with growing confidence.

The sweetness of his voice, the strength of his arms around her, the heat of his body against hers, all combined with the romance of the song. It was so incredibly intimate, like her best dream come true. Josie’s heart felt full to bursting. She closed her eyes and laid her head on Mark’s shoulder. She might just melt into a gooey puddle right there on the floor at his feet.

The song ended, and surprise, surprise, Mark laid his lips on hers. Softly, gently, he coaxed hers to part.

His tongue slid into her mouth. It mated with hers in a sensuous dance, over and around, teasing and tasting until her head spun with the drugging slowness of the kiss.

The mattress bumped the backs of her knees, but she was too far gone to care. She tipped backward, supported by his arms, and for one giddy moment she was completely at his mercy. He laid her back on the bed in a move that felt like it came right out of an old black-and-white movie; one of those old ones with Grant and Bergman or Bogart and Bacall.

Josie broke the kiss. “You know how to whistle, don’t you, Steve?”

“Huh?” Mark peered down at her, his brows drawn together in obvious confusion.

The look on his face made Josie giggle.

“
To Have and Have Not
. Don’t even tell me you never saw it.”

Mark shook his head. “Okay, I won’t tell you.”

“OhmyGod! You have to. Bogart and Bacall are so smokin’ hot.” She dropped her already low voice into an even lower register, approximating Lauren Bacall. “You don’t have to act with me, Steve. You don’t have to do a thing, not a thing. Oh, maybe just whistle. You know how to whistle, don’t you, Steve? Just put your lips together and blow.”

Obediently Mark pursed his lips.

Feeling unaccountably daring, Josie kissed him. She ran the very tip of her tongue along the closed seam of his lips, then thrust inside. His now familiar flavor filled her mouth. God, she could kiss him for hours.

“You’re so sexy.” Mark ground his hips against hers, letting her feel his erection.

An answering stirring between her own legs had Josie squirming to get out from under him. She was pretty sure things would stay tucked away where they belonged, but there was no point in courting trouble.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

She shook her head. “You’re just heavy.”

“Sorry.” Mark rolled over, switching their positions. “Is that better?”

“Much.” She smiled down at him, then kissed him again, both because she wanted to and it was a great distraction while she settled herself half on and half off him. At least this way she could move away quickly if she needed to, though she doubted that would be an issue. She knew her body well enough to feel certain it would take more than a few kisses to rev her up to the danger zone.