Irresistible? (20 page)

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Authors: Stephanie Bond

BOOK: Irresistible?
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Ellie took a deep breath and turned in the direction of the clinic. After a few minutes' walk, she pushed open the door and asked a receptionist to page Freda. Soon, Freda emerged, her face folding with puzzlement when she saw Ellie.
“What brings you here?” the woman asked.
“Kittens,” Ellie said, extending one of Esmerelda's birth announcements. “I'm trying to find homes for them and wondered if you'd be interested.”
It was the first genuinely happy smile she'd seen on the woman's face. “My tabby passed on two months ago. I've been meaning to go to the shelter to find another, but I couldn't bring myself to replace her just yet.”
“The black female is still unspoken for.”
Freda nodded, satisfied. “I'll take her.”
“Great,” Ellie said, smiling. Then she glanced side to side, shifting slightly. “Uh, Freda, can we talk?”
The gray-haired woman checked the watch on her wrist. “I've got about ten minutes, come on back.”
Ellie chewed her bottom lip nervously, wondering how the woman would react to her request.
“I've been wondering about you and your fellow,” Freda said, glancing over her shoulder at Ellie as they entered her small office. “How did you make out?”
Ellie shut the door. “That's what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Freda's eyebrows went up. “Oh?”
“I need more pills.”
After a few seconds of hesitation, Freda replied, “I can't do that.”
“Please?” Ellie pleaded, folding her hands together. Tears welled and spilled over her cheeks. “I've never been so miserable in my life. I love him.”
Freda shook her head. “It's impossible—”
“I'll pay you,” Ellie said through her tears. “Whatever it takes, just a few weeks' supply, just long enough to regain his attention and show him how really good we can be together.”
“The pills are controlled, I can't distribute them outside the study.”
Ellie sniffled loudly. “Then put me back in the study.”
Handing her a tissue, Freda said, “You've already been through one cycle of pills, you wouldn't be a pure study subject again so soon.”
“You've got to help me.” Ellie sobbed. “What am I going to do?” She blew her nose noisily, beseeching Freda.
The lab-coated woman sat back in her chair and sighed, then rose and crossed to a file cabinet. Opening the drawer, she fingered through several folders, finally stopping to extract one. Ellie saw her name on it. She hiccuped.
Freda studied the file, flipping through several pages quickly, obviously looking for a particular piece of information. At last she found it, because understanding dawned on her face. “Just what I suspected,” she muttered thoughtfully.
Ellie held her breath. When she could wait no longer, she asked, “Can you help me?”
Lifting her head to study Ellie, Freda's eyes narrowed. “What I'm about to tell you could cost me my job, so you have to swear to keep this quiet.”
Her heart pounded. “What is it?” Ellie asked, her tears now dry from fear.
“Promise?” Freda asked.
“I promise,” Ellie agreed, crossing her heart solemnly.
Her new friend took a deep breath, then exhaled it roughly. “In the pheromones study we conducted...”
“Yes?” Ellie prompted, making a rolling motion with her hand. “What?”
“You were in the placebo group.”
Confusion washed over her. “The placebo group?”
“That's right—you were taking sugar tablets. Any so-called effects of the pills you took were self-induced.”
Ellie's arms and shoulders grew weak. She lifted her wobbly hands in question. “How can that be? Men kept smelling something.”
“Maybe the extra sugar you were ingesting, maybe your natural scent—who knows? The power of suggestion is not to be underestimated.” Freda sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Tell a woman she has the ability to attract any man she wants and watch her throw her shoulders back and begin to exude self-confidence.” She leaned forward, waving a hand at Ellie. “Look at you—you have all the tools, you're pretty and funny and nice. What makes you think you need some silly old pills to make this man fall in love with you? If he's that blind, honey, then he can't be the one for you.”
Ellie walked home, fighting back tears. Despite Freda's pep talk, her heart dragged heavily in the wake of the woman's revelation. If Mark had never been under the influence of pheromones, then he
had
been physically attracted to her, at least in the beginning. But it also meant whatever feelings he'd developed had waned naturally, and not because she'd suddenly run out of pills.
She'd been trying to make a mountain of commitment out of a molehill of lust.
The many tiny balls of fur that came running for her when she stepped into the apartment lifted her spirits somewhat. She grabbed a cold cola from the fridge and one for Manny as he came sauntering through the hall.
“Hey, girl.”
“Hey.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Are you going to be in a blue funk over Mark Blackwell forever?”
“Maybe,” she said defiantly, cracking open the soda can and lifting it to her mouth.
He did the same. “Well, I for one get a boost every time I think about him getting caught in the bathroom at that restaurant.” He laughed. “You've got to admit it's hilarious, El.”
She smiled, begrudgingly lifted from her bad mood. “He could still get in worlds of trouble if Tony Specklemeyer decides to make an issue of it.”
Manny stopped. “Is that the guy's name? Specklemeyer... Why does that name sound familiar?” He walked around the kitchen absently. “I can't think...wait a minute!” He snapped his fingers. “Does he drive a black Jaguar?”
Ellie shrugged. “Beats me. I do remember Mark saying he had a vanity license plate that says—”
“‘HUNGRY,' in capital letters,” Manny finished.
“How did you know that?”
He leaned against the counter, a cunning smile warming his face. “Because that vile man circles the club where I work every other night, trying to pick up the performers as they leave.” Manny shuddered. “He says the most disgusting things.”
Ellie's mouth dropped open. “You're kidding?”
“Nope.”
“Well, that's no crime.”
“No,” Manny agreed, “but you'd think the pot wouldn't be so anxious to call the kettle black if he could be thrown into the same dishwater.”
She grinned. “You're right. I'll call Mark later and let him in on the news. I'll bet if he just drops a hint to this guy, he'll back off.”
“If Mark hadn't been stupid enough to let you go, he wouldn't have to worry about any silly old rumors.”
Ellie walked over and gave him a bear hug. “You're so good for me.”
He pulled back in sudden recollection. “El, I forgot to tell you—you got a letter back from the perfume-making contest.” He flipped through the mail on the counter and handed her an envelope.
Ripping it open, she scanned the letterhead, and read out loud. “Dear Ms. Sutherland, we are pleased to announce your formula, Irresistible You, has been chosen the winner—” Ellie screamed, then grabbed Manny and jumped up and down. “I won, I won, I won!” After a few moments of elation in which she kissed him and every cat within arm's reach, she continued reading. “Please contact us as soon as possible to arrange to collect your winnings, and to discuss your ideas for an entire product line. We look forward to hearing from you.” She threw back her head and squealed in delight, dancing around the kitchen. In her exuberance, she knocked against the painting, the resulting tear in the wrapping paper exposing a glimpse of dark cherry wood.
Cherry? A tiny seed of dread sprouted in her stomach, then mushroomed when she ripped the paper farther and stared at Mark's business portrait.
“Oh, my God,” she breathed. “Harry delivered the nude to Mark's office by mistake!” Her eyes locked with Manny's. Thirty seconds later she pounded down the stairs, carrying the portrait under her arm. Running into the street, she hailed the first taxi she saw with a loud, ear-piercing whistle.
13
M
ONICA TAPPED on the door, then opened it a few inches. “Mark,” she said, holding up a letter and a bulky package. “Two things—Habitat for Humanity sent a thank-you letter for your donation, and a work schedule for the next home being built.”
He reached for it. “Thanks.”
“If I may say so,” she began tentatively.
“Yes?”
“Your donation was very generous, Mark. And for you to volunteer to help build a home for a needy family, well, it's a side of you I didn't know, but one I'm very impressed with.” She smiled and sincerity shone in her eyes.
“Thank you,” he said softly, placing the letter on his desk.
She held the large package toward him. “And your portrait just arrived.”
His pulse leaped. Ellie was here! Mark craned his neck to look around Monica. “Where is she?”
“Who?” Monica asked, confused.
“Ellie.”
“I don't know. A courier delivered the painting.”
“Oh.” Mark tried to keep the dejection out of his voice, but he knew he failed miserably. “Leave it, please.”
Monica leaned it against his desk and made a hasty exit. Mark turned back to the work spread across his desk and forced himself to concentrate. After a few minutes, he gave up, tossed the pen straight up in the air, then watched it bounce off a corner of his desk, disappearing over the edge.
He turned to look at the package. Even after all that work, she didn't want to hand-deliver it. She didn't want to see him. Not that he blamed her. He'd made it coldly clear on the phone when he returned from Chicago that he didn't want to see her anymore. What an ass he'd been. Mark slammed his fist on his desk, but it only brought Monica back to the door.
“Mark? Are you okay?” she asked, concern written on her face.
“Fine,” he said through clenched teeth. When she retreated, he massaged his throbbing hand, then reached for the painting. He fingered the wrapping for several seconds as sadness welled in him. He didn't want to see the portrait right now. He didn't want another painful reminder of Ellie and his foolish behavior.
He pushed a button on his phone. “Monica, please have maintenance come to pick up the painting and hang it.” Within minutes, she entered his office again and retrieved the picture. Then Mark heard her give explicit directions to the man as to where it was to be hung.
Walking the length of his office, Mark rubbed his temples. He wished a headache would erupt, because then he'd at least have a reason for feeling lousy. This gnawing in his stomach and this heaviness in his chest were becoming unbearable. Damn! He never thought he'd let a woman get to him. Maybe he needed a vacation. That's it, he decided.
I'll go to some paradise for a couple of weeks and get Ellie out of my system. After all, she's just a woman.
The Piedmont Park painting beckoned to him and he smiled. The picture never failed to lift his spirits. He walked over to it and absorbed the artist's impression of a day in the sun and wind. The colors, the movement, everything about it made him feel the way he did when his father took him to the park as a child. He could almost feel the grass between his toes and see his dad doing card tricks for a crowd of kids. They'd eat a cheese-sandwich picnic and fly kites, then roll up their pants and wade in the kiddie-pool. Back then, the days seemed to last forever, and every hour brought new and wonderful pleasures. He'd loved his father fiercely. He loved him still.
I really should contact the artist someday and tell him how much I enjoy this painting.
He'd never before thought about the artist, and for the first time, his eyes searched the bottomright corner for a name. There it was, in white, but very small and not quite clear. “E. Sutherland,” he muttered slowly, then froze. Could it be? He double-checked the signature. A dim memory surfaced of the first day she'd walked into his office. Nice picture, she'd said.
“Ellie,” he murmured. A wondrous feeling began in his chest and slowly radiated to his extremities. “I might have known it was yours.” Then he threw back his head and laughed. She had brought joy into his life even before he'd known her. Mark laughed until he had to lean against the wall for support.
Another knock sounded, and Monica stuck her head in warily. “Mark? Are you okay? I'm worried about you.”
But Mark just grinned and chuckled, waving away her concern. “Never better, Monica.” She exited with a reluctant expression, then Mark slid down the wall to sit on the floor as he dissolved in laughter once again. When he'd finally regained control, he shook his head at his own stupidity. He loved Ellie, he had from the beginning. But would she give him another chance?
“I'm not letting her go without a fight,” he said, pulling himself to his feet and crossing to his desk. He hadn't felt this good in days. Mark punched in Ellie's number and waited nervously to hear her voice.
“Hi, this is Ellie and Manny's place. You know the drill.” Then a beep sounded.
He frowned, but began to speak. “Ellie, it's Mark. If you're there, please pick up, I need to talk to you right away.” He hesitated a few seconds then said, “I l-l-lo—” He stuttered over the words, then tried again. “I l-l-lo—” Darnit, it was harder to say than he'd imagined. Mark took a deep breath. “I l-l-love you, Ellie. Please call me.” He hung up slowly.
“I love you, too,” Ellie said.
Mark spun around and his heart vaulted at the sight of her standing in his doorway with a package, a beaming Monica pushing her inside, closing the door.
Ellie swallowed tears that welled in her throat. He did love her.
He leaped to his feet and rushed toward her. Ellie leaned the wrapped painting against the wall, then met his embrace. He kissed her, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around. “Where did you come from?” he asked, grinning.
“Iowa,” Ellie said, laughing through her tears.
“You were born in Iowa?”
Ellie nodded. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”
Mark reached behind her to lock the door, then stepped to his desk and cleared the top with one sweep of his arm. He grinned. “We can start right here.” Papers swirled to the ground at their feet.
Ellie's heart swelled as she allowed him to pull her to his desk. How she loved this man.
He lowered his head to hers and drew her into a deep kiss, his hands cupping her rear, pulling her against his arousal. They grabbed at each other's clothing, Ellie's skirt ending up around her waist, her panties on the ceiling fan. Mark's pants sagged around his ankles. Buttons from his shirt missiled against the wall as she yanked the front open.
“I don't have any protection,” he whispered.
“I'd like to start a family as soon as possible,” she replied throatily, positioning herself for his entry.
“Lots of kids?” he asked, sounding pleased.
“Five or so.”
He plunged into her and Ellie stiffened with overwhelming desire.
“I feel like I could plant at least that many right now,” he warned, moving inside her. They rocked together for a few seconds, then Ellie felt her ecstasy ballooning. “Mark,” she whispered urgently. “Oh, Mark.” He covered her mouth with his to absorb her scream of release. She heard, rather than felt, his shirt rip as she clawed his back. Suddenly he tensed and moaned low into her mouth, his body jerking in relief.
“I've missed you,” he breathed.
After a few seconds, her pulse slowed. “I missed you, and so has Esmerelda.”
Mark's eyes rolled heavenward. “I guess this means I'll have to paint my bedroom blue if we're ever going to have any privacy.”
A loud commotion outside caught their attention. Mark frowned, pulled away, and started righting his clothes. “What's going on? It sounds like it's coming from down the hall.”
Beads of perspiration popped out on Ellie's upper lip. “Mark,” she said. “Do you really love me?”
His face softened. “I really do.” Pulling a chair over to the fan, he retrieved her lace panties and handed them to her.
Ellie began to dress, biting her lower lip. “Do you really,
really
love me?”
Mark's smile widened even as he surveyed his shredded shirt in the mirror. “You know I do. Remind me to buy you a pair of gloves right away.”
The commotion was getting louder, the sound of many voices raised. Mark pulled on his jacket, straightened his tie and walked toward the door. “Something's going on.”
“Mark!” Ellie grabbed his hand and fought to keep the desperation out of her voice. “Please tell me there's nothing I could do to make you stop loving me.”
He turned toward her again, taking her face in his hands. “Sweetheart, there's nothing you could do to make me stop loving you.” He lowered his mouth to hers for a quick, loving kiss.
A knock sounded at the door. “Mark?” Monica asked from the other side, her voice urgent.
“Promise?” Ellie asked, gripping his hands.
“Yes, I promise, Ellie.” He turned to open the door, then noticed the wrapped portrait Ellie had brought. “What's that?”
Ellie just shrugged her shoulders, smiling wide.
“The last time I saw that look, Esmerelda had gone fishing.”
“Mark?” Monica's voice was insistent, her knocking louder.
He opened the door. “What's all the noise, Monica?”
His secretary wore an unreadable expression, her eyes wide. “You're needed in the boardroom.
Right away
.”
“Is something wrong?” he asked, concern written on his face.
Monica glanced at Ellie, and Ellie saw raw admiration on the woman's face. “Not everyone would think so.”
Mark walked out the door and strode down the hall toward the boardroom. Ellie hesitated, but Monica grabbed her arm and pulled her along. Ellie's mind raced. How was she going to explain this one?
She stepped into the crowded room a split second behind Mark, in time to see his eyes land on the nearly life-size sprawling nude. A roomful of suited men and women roared, Ray and Patrick both bent double, tears streaming down their faces.
Mark's jaw fell, and his mouth worked up and down, but no sound came out. He turned his head slowly to look at Ellie, and she winced, taking a half step back. This was going to be an interesting relationship.
His eyes were round in disbelief, his hands clenched in fists at his sides. “Ellie,” he said, his voice ominously low. “What the hell is that?”
All eyes turned to Ellie and the room quieted, poised for her answer. Swallowing, Ellie tried to gather her courage. She lifted her chin and smiled nervously at her glowering husband-to-be.
“That, as everyone can see,” she said brightly, sweeping her arm in a grand gesture, “is one well-hung portrait.”

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