Irresistible? (14 page)

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Authors: Stephanie Bond

BOOK: Irresistible?
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“Excuse me?”
“I need to borrow your pants.”
“What?”
“Look, for both our sakes, I've got to shake this guy once and for all. Are you with me?”
Cornered and out of options, he gestured toward the rest room and relented stiffly. “This is against my better judgment.”
“I'll go first, and you follow in a few minutes.”
Manny escaped and Mark played with his empty wineglass for a few seconds, then whistled tunelessly while he watched the second hand on his watch. When exactly one minute had passed, he strolled toward the men's room.
He breathed a sigh of relief to find the room empty. Perhaps Manny had gone home. He'd make excuses to Ray and somehow convince him not to call her, uh, him again.
“Pssst!”
Mark jerked his head toward the sound. One of the stall doors was closed, but no legs or feet were visible.
“Pssst, over here, Mark!”
Mark walked over to the stall and said, “What the hell are you doing?”
“I'm getting undressed.”
“Are you suspended in midair?”
“I'm standing on the toilet.”
Mark put his hands on his hips. “Did Ellie teach you that trick?”
A man entered the bathroom and walked to the sink, eyeing a large red stain on his lapel. He nodded to Mark and reached for a towel.
“Would you stop clowning around and take off your pants?” Manny whispered loudly.
Mark groaned inwardly. The man's head snapped up. He made wide eye contact with Mark, then turned and bolted out the door.
“Great,” Mark said, walking into the adjacent stall. “We just scared a customer to death. He's probably reporting us right now. What are you doing, anyway?”
“I'm going to get Ray off Molly's back. Hurry up—I need your shirt, pants, socks and shoes.”
“And what am I supposed to wear in the meantime?”
“Oh, that's right—Ellie says you don't wear undies.”
“Does she tell you everything?” Mark sputtered.
“
Every
thing—you can hang on to your jacket for security.”
Mark began stripping off his clothes and handed them over the top of the stall. “This had better work.”
“Trust me.”
“Oh, yeah,” Mark said sarcastically. “The man wearing the WonderBra says ‘trust me.”'
“Don't knock it till you've tried it.”
Why hadn't he worn boxers tonight? Mark felt utterly ridiculous standing naked in his suit jacket and holding his tie in front of his crotch while Manny dressed in his clothes. He wondered briefly if he could be disbarred for public nudity. Probably.
A couple of minutes later, a wad of clothing sailed over the top of the stall. Mark dodged panty hose, girdle, a set of fake boobs, wig, high heels and other mysterious items, watching them settle onto the tiled floor around him. “What's all this crap?” he demanded.
“All that crap is my wardrobe,” Manny said hotly. I can't leave it in here—someone might take it. Keep it with you until I get back.”
Mark crossed his arms and shook his head in defeat. “I saw this once in a movie. If you leave me stranded with nothing to wear out of here but women's clothes, I'll track you down and kick your butt. You've got ten minutes.”
“I'll be back,”
was Manny's acid response. Mark heard the stall door open and close, then lots of water splashing, then finally Manny exiting the outer door.
A few seconds later, the outer door opened again, this time admitting someone with a slow lazy stride. Mark looked down at his hairy legs and bare feet and imagined how it would look from the other side. He quickly stooped to snatch Manny's clothing from the floor and out of sight. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“Having problems in there?” the man asked haughtily, walking over to stop in front of the stall.
Mark's heart stopped. He knew that voice.
“Hey, buddy.” The man knocked, and raised his voice in a challenge. “I said, are you having problems in there?”
His co-worker, Tony Specklemeyer. The little hotshot who'd come to his office for a showdown over cheating on a client's tax forms. Mark cursed silently, scalding the air. The ambitious little jackass would hang him out to dry if he saw him like this. A drop of sweat dripped off his nose.
Mark pictured the headlines: Partner of Prestigious Atlanta Law Firm Found Buck-Naked In Men's-Room Stall Amidst Pile of Women's Underthings. He could visualize himself saying, “Honest, Officer, I was just loaning my clothes to my fake fiancée's transvestite roommate so the senior partner of my law firm wouldn't find out I'd set him up with a man.”
Specklemeyer's feet had disappeared, and Mark prayed the man would simply leave. He nearly had a stroke when he heard a gasp above him. Mark turned and looked straight up into his co-worker's astonished face hanging over the top of the stall.
“Blackwell?” he screeched, his voice incredulous.
Mark reached up to grab him by the throat, dropping most of the clothing he held. “Listen, you jackass, this isn't what you think, and if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll rip out your spleen, got it?”
But Specklemeyer wasn't shaken. “Gee, Blackwell, you're much more intimidating when you're not wielding a pair of size eleven turquoise pumps.”
Mark looked down at the shoe in his other hand. His fury exploded, and he shook the man until his head rattled. His voice was low and deadly. “I mean it, Specklemeyer. You did not see this.”
Tony held up his hands in surrender and rolled a smile around on his lips. “Sure, man, sure. Whatever you say.” He jerked loose from Mark's grip, and Mark heard him step down from the toilet seat and leave the rest room.
Mark sank to the toilet and put his face in his hands.
My career is definitely over.
Next week, being partner would be a distant memory.
He clasped his hands together. “Please, God, let me get out of here alive so I can wring Ellie Sutherland's neck!”
 
ELLIE HELPED an unsteady Ray into his seat before she slid into hers. She glanced around frantically for Manny and Mark. They'd been gone for several minutes.
“I need to visit the men's room,” Ray announced, half standing.
“No!” Ellie yelled, drawing the attention of patrons around her.
Ray looked at her, startled.
“I mean, not yet,” she said, laughing nervously. “Can you wait until Mark or Molly get back so I won't be here by myself?”
Ray sat back down obligingly. “Where
are
those two?”
Good question.
“Ellie!” Manny's voice exclaimed behind her. She turned to see Manny, clad in Mark's clothing, striding toward her. Despite her panic, she had to suppress a giggle. His feet were swimming in the bigger man's shoes, and he'd rolled up the cuff of the dress pants to keep them from dragging.
“Where's Molly?” Manny asked dramatically.
“I think she's in the ladies' room, Manny.”
“Is this a friend of yours, Ellie?” Ray asked cautiously.
“Ray Ivan, meet Manny Oliver.”
Ray stuck out his hand, perplexed. “Pleased to meet you.”
Manny didn't shake his hand, and instead cried, “Are you the man who's trying to steal my Molly?”
“What?” the older man exclaimed.
Manny swooped down on one knee and clasped Ray's hands. “Don't do it, sir. If you have a heart, don't do it.”
“Don't do what?” Concern lined Ray's face.
“Don't take my Molly.” Big tears filled Manny's eyes. “I love her, but she keeps a flock of men on the side. She's so beautiful, I can't compete with them all. You understand, don't you, sir?”
“I guess so,” Ray said dubiously.
Ellie hid a smile behind her napkin. Manny hadn't removed his eyelashes, and his long fingernails were still blood red, but the sodden Ray didn't seem to notice.
The maître d' approached the table with a worried look on his face. He addressed Ray. “Is everything all right here, sir?”
Manny's sobs increased, his head bent over Ray's hands.
“I think so,” Ray said in confusion.
Manny raised his head. “So you'll give me your word to not see her, no matter how tempting she is.”
Ray looked at Ellie, then back to Manny. “I guess so.”
“Oh, thank you, sir.” Manny's sobs began anew. “You've made me a new man. But please, when she comes back out, let her down gently. I love her so much, I couldn't stand for her to be hurt.”
Ray nodded rapidly. “Sure.”
Manny kissed the man's hands, then made a tearful exit.
“I'm so sorry, Ray,” Ellie said, patting his hand. “Perhaps it really is for the best.”
He nodded wisely. “Better to have loved and lost...” His voice faded as he lifted his wineglass to his lips for the hundredth time.
A few minutes later, Mark came walking hurriedly back to the table, glancing around the room and tugging at his tie.
“Where've you been?” Ray slurred. “We've been worried about you, son.”
Mark glared murderously at Ellie, but turned a smile on Ray. “The snails didn't agree with me, sir.”
“Have you seen Molly?” Ellie asked, her eyebrows raised.
“I believe she'll be here any minute,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Hello, all,” Manny said in his sugary Molly voice, swinging into his seat.
He looked slightly worse for wear, his wig askew and lipstick hastily applied. He turned a smile on Ray. “Miss me?”
“Yes,” Ray admitted, his voice sad. “But I'm afraid I must call it an evening.”
“But why?” Manny's eyebrows furrowed dramatically.
Ray took Manny's hand in his. “Well, the truth is, Molly, you're too much of a woman for me, and I don't think this is going to work out.”
“Oh, no.” Manny pouted prettily.
Mark rolled his eyes, and Ellie kicked him under the table.
“Shush, my dear,” Ray said gently. “It's for the best. You've been a lovely dinner companion, and I thank you very much.”
“Well, if you're sure,” Manny said cautiously.
Ray waved for the maître d' and asked him to hail a taxi, then signed for the meal, folded a fifty into the man's hand and bid everyone good-night.
When he was out of sight, Ellie sank into her chair in relief. “Whew!”
Manny snapped his fingers. “Told you it would work.”
“Except,” she added glumly, “he still thinks we're engaged.”
Mark scanned the room again, obviously agitated. His scowl was black and ugly when it landed on Ellie. “Although being engaged to you is a harrowing prospect, believe me, it's the least of my problems right now.”
 
FREDA ESCORTED ELLIE to the first available closet-room. “So,” the clinical assistant said in a tired voice. “How's it going?” She sat down heavily in a creaking metal chair and flipped through Ellie's journal, stopping occasionally to scratch at her temple with the end of a pen.
“Fine,” Ellie replied nervously, sitting on a stool wedged between a trash can and a Formica desk. Absolutely nothing in her life was fine.
Freda had stopped on one page to read intently. “Well, I can see things have progressed nicely with Mr. Mark.”
“Keep reading,” Ellie said dryly.
Freda squinted, bringing the book closer. “Try to remember to print your entries next time.”
“But I printed them
this
time.”
“Well, it's hard to make out what you've written. You had ‘toy' sex? Is that something new?”
Ellie felt her skin redden. She coughed lightly. “Mmm, that would be ‘toe' sex.”
“Toe sex?
Okay, you had, er...
toe
sex once and regular sex once?”
“That's right.”
Freda studied a form on her desk, pen poised, then shook her head. “I never seem to have the right checkboxes for your answers.”
“Being categorized under ‘other' is the story of my life.”
“Do you see this moving toward a long-term relationship?”

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