Love Gone Wild: A Contemporary Romantic Comedy (7 page)

"Sweet Lillie." He leaned over, kissed her smooth cheek, and felt the pulse at her neck. It beat strong against his fingertips. He reached into his jacket pocket and removed a long red silk scarf. Gently, he wrapped the material around her slender neck and pulled it tighter and tighter.
"Good night, sweetheart.

M
ARISSA STOOD
IN Dane's bathroom, looking into the mirror, applying the finishing touch to her make-up: coloring her lips with Kiss-Me red. Marissa smoothed the red dress, though the "slinky little number" as described by the sales clerk, didn't have any wrinkles. She pressed a hand against her stomach to still the nervous fluttering.

Tonight she would have sex.

When Dane had told her Brent would like to take her out, she knew his friend had agreed to accommodate her wishes. She had to admit that arranging a liaison this way felt cold-blooded. If she were to evaluate her feelings honestly, she feared she wouldn't enjoy her first sexual experience with Brent as much as she would have with Dane.

"Tuesday, where do you think you're going?"

Marissa smiled at the ferocious sound of Dane's voice. He'd been in a bad mood since they'd left the TeenCenter. Shopping for make-up and clothes didn't improve his disposition, either. At least this time his ire was directed at her handsome note-taker. She leaned against the closed door to listen.

"I'm going with Miss M."

"Don't you think it would be awkward for Brent and Marissa to have you there scribbling down their every move?"

She imagined Tuesday's grin was unrepentant. "This is the best job I've ever had."

"This is probably the only job you've ever had."

She'd better save Tuesday. Marissa patted her long curls—courtesy of her new rollers—and opened the door. Both men in the hallway turned toward her.

She cleared her throat. "What do you think?"

Tuesday's whistle was long and low. "You clean up real nice." He held up his legal pad and pen. "I'm ready to write shit down."

"Tuesday." Dane's voice held a warning.

The boy rolled his eyes. "Stuff, okay? I'm ready to write
stuff
down."

Marissa's gaze strayed to Dane. She saw the hunger in his eyes before he blanked his expression. Tension radiated from him even though his stance was a casual one; his strength and his heat seemed to envelop her. The sensation was so weird she shivered.

"You look fine."

Tuesday punched him lightly. "C'mon, man. You can do better than that. You're gonna ruin the woman's self-esteem."

"Can you excuse us a moment, Tuesday?" asked Marissa.

"Yeah, sure."

She waited for Tuesday to go into the living room then she folded her arms across her chest and looked at Dane. "You've been very moody. Do you want to talk about what's wrong?"

"No."

"Okay." She looped the small red purse hanging from her arm over her shoulder and started to slip past Dane. His hand shot out and encircled her wrist. She stopped and glanced at him.

"You're not going to nag me?"

The slight pressure of his fingers sent tingles up her arms.

"No."

He pulled her closer. "You're not going to insist I share my feelings with you?"

"No."

He pulled her closer still. Her hip grazed his thigh; her breasts brushed against his chest. "Not going to pout because I won't tell you what's on my mind?"

"No, Dane."

He let go of her captured hand, but she couldn't move away from him. She felt connected—no, not connected, but irrevocably drawn, like one of those hapless female victims in the old black-and-white movies who always fell under the vampire's gaze. Would Dane devour her, too?

As if he'd heard her thoughts, he lowered his head toward her. She resisted the urge to show him her neck so he could nibble it.

"You are unlike any woman I've ever met." He brushed a loose curl away from her temple. "You look gorgeous."
He kissed the spot above her right eyebrow, then stepped back and gestured for her to go past him. She felt as though she'd just run a marathon: Her heart pounded, her breath quickened, her limbs shook. But she managed to escape the hallway...and Dane.

"
I
UNDERSTAND
THAT some men take women out for dinner before they make love." Marissa gestured with her breadstick. "But, really, you don't have to do that. I'm not interested in the mating ritual. No offense. You really are quite charming, but I don't want to develop a relationship with you. It seems pointless to spend money on dinner when I've already agreed to sleep with you." Marissa watched Brent choke on the wine he just drank. "Oh, my. Are you all right?"

He nodded, his face turning an alarming shade of red as he attempted to regain his breath. Marissa put down her breadstick and offered him her untouched water glass. He accepted it and sipped the water.

"Did I upset you?"

Brent took a deep breath. "I wasn't prepared for you to say what you said. It took me by surprise."

"Dane says I've an annoying tendency to be too honest."

"That's about the twentieth time you've mentioned Dane in last hour."

"I'm sorry. How rude of me to keep bringing him into the conversation." She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "I can't promise that I won't mention Dane again. I've been unable to stop thinking about him." She leaned forward. "I'm not experienced, but I am willing to learn. Have you read the
Kama Sutra?"

"Why do you want to sleep with me?"

"You're handsome and strong and confident. I presume you'd be a good lover."

"That's very flattering, Marissa." He took a gulp of water. "But I wasn't planning on going to bed with you."

Relief snaked through her and she relaxed. How surprising! She wasn't the least disappointed by Brent's rejection. Marissa looked down at her salad. She was acting so silly. Was sex all that important? Since meeting Dane, she'd begun to doubt her desire to experience the mere physical act. It made more sense for making love to be the culmination of an emotional relationship rather than one night of incredible passion.

"I appreciate your candor," said Marissa. "Frankly, the only person I want to have sex with doesn't want me." To her horror, tears gathered in her eyes. She grabbed her cloth napkin and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. "I don't know what's come over me."

"You like Dane, don't you?"

"Yes." Her sigh was soul-deep. "But I annoy him so much. He's grumpy most of the time. The only reason he hangs around is because I'm paying him."

"You think so?"

She sniffled, giving in to the aching pain gathering in her chest. "Brent, I think I'm going to start sobbing."

"It's okay, Marissa. Despite Dane's grumpiness, I suspect he likes you, too."

"I want to believe you, but I'm afraid your assessment is incorrect."

"It's not your fault he's got a bug up his ass."

Marissa blinked.
A bug up his ass?
What an interesting phrase. She hoped she'd be able to use it sometime.

"It's Lorraine's fault."

"Lorraine?"

"His ex-wife. She did a real number on him. Then there's his mother—a rich bitch if there ever was one."

"He doesn't like me because I'm rich?" Marissa tucked away the information about Dane's ex-wife and mother for later contemplation.

"He likes you. I'll prove it."

"How?"

"I'll sleep with you."

"You will?"

"Sorta." He grinned. "I guarantee that the last thing Dane wants is for me to make love to you. If he thinks we're going to have sex, it'll drive him crazy. He won't let it happen."

"What if he does?"

"He won't."

Marissa thought about Brent's suggestion. While she liked the idea of confirming how Dane felt about her, she had doubts about Brent's methods. "It sounds deceitful."

"It's for his own good, believe me."

"I don't lie well." Her fingers drummed the table. "I get twitchy when I fib."

Brent covered her hand and squeezed it. "He'll mistake it for nervousness about losing your virginity."

"I
am
nervous about losing my virginity. I'm thinking about keeping it for a while longer."

"Good for you."

Marissa saw the kindness in Brent's gaze. Mischief lingered there, too. "You like the idea of fooling him, don't you?"

"I like the idea of waking him up to the possibilities of a relationship with a beautiful and charming woman."
"All right. I'll do it."

D
ANE WATCHED
FROM the rear view mirror as Tuesday exited the restaurant and sprinted across the street. The boy slid into the car and eased the door shut.

Tuesday flashed a grin. "This is like
Mission Impossible."

"Just tell me what's going on."

He flipped open his notebook. "It doesn't look good, man. They're holding hands and laughing. It looks like they're having a blast."

Holding hands?
Brent was supposed to be his friend.
That bastard!
"I'll kill him," muttered Dane.

"You turned the girl down flat. Brent looks like he's got it goin' on, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Dane exhaled. Brent wouldn't sleep with Marissa. He wouldn't. "Did you get close enough to hear what they were talking about?"

"Just once. I circled around the restaurant and lingered near this dessert cart for a minute."

"Well?"

"You're not going to like it."

"Tuesday..."

"Okay, okay. Your friend said, 'I'll sleep with you,' and Miss M said, 'You will?'"

Dane clutched the steering wheel, wishing it was Brent's neck. "What else?"

"Man, I don't know. Some old white lady asked me for a slice of cherry cheesecake. I ended up serving the whole damned table." Tuesday closed the notebook. "Do I look like a waiter to you?"

Dane looked at Tuesday's black pants and white shirt. "Yes."
"I didn't even get a tip."

"Speaking of dessert, did they order any?"

"You mean did they order whipped cream to go?"

The image of Marissa covered in whipped cream made Dane clutch the steering wheel even tighter. "Don't be such a smart ass. I wanted to know if they were getting ready to leave."

"Are we going to follow them?"

"You're damn right we are."

"Cool." Tuesday rubbed his hands together. "If you want me to spy, you need to provide some tools. I need one of those supersonic devices—you know, where you point this little dish and you can hear all the way to Cuba? And one of those little headsets so I can talk directly to you. A mini-cam wouldn't hurt, either."

"You watch too much television."

"I gotta do something in the afternoons."

"How about going to school?"

"What for? Besides, man, after Miss M's adventure is over, I gotta find another job." The boy grimaced. "I don't eat fast food no more. You know why? 'Cause I've spent too much time flipping frozen burgers and wearing paper hats."

Dane glanced at Tuesday. "I'll make you a deal."

"What?"

"If you go to school, I'll give you a job at the TeenCenter."

"No way, man. That place has rehabilitation written all over it. I like who I am."

Dane dragged his gaze away from the entrance of the restaurant long enough to look Tuesday in the eye. "And who are you?"

"I'm the one spying on your potential girlfriend because you don't have the balls to tell her you like her."

"It's more complicated than that, Tuesday."

"Yeah, man. So am I. I'm not a project and I'm not a cause. You can't right my wrongs."

"But you can."

Tuesday rolled his eyes and turned away. "Hey! There they are!"

"We'll talk some more later."

"Whatever."

Dane started the car. Despite his initial reservations, Dane liked Tuesday. He wasn't going to back off or give up on the young man. Just as soon as his ordeal with Marissa was over, Dane vowed to work with Tuesday—if he didn't disappear after he got paid.

"C'mon, man, they're leaving."

They both watched as Brent's truck exited the parking lot. Dane put his car into gear and followed his ex-best friend and Marissa to their rendezvous.

"This isn't a hotel," said Tuesday. "This looks like—"

"My apartment complex," said Dane. "He's taking her to my place."

"We're supposed to be at your house playing checkers or something."

Dane wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel. Had Tuesday misheard the conversation between Brent and Marissa? Maybe Brent had been trying to talk her out of sex.
Yeah. Otherwise—

"We've got about a minute to get to your house. By the way, Brent just parked in your space."

Dane pulled into the visitor's parking area and backed into one of the spots. Then he grabbed a basketball out of the backseat and handed it to Tuesday. "There's a basketball court on the grounds. We'll meet up with them at the door and claim we were playing b-ball."

"Okay, man, but I kicked your ass. I got some serious game. Should we try to sweat or something?"

"What?"

"I'm just trying to make it authentic."

Without responding, Dane got out of the car and Tuesday followed. They jogged across the parking lot then turned the corner of Dane's building just as Brent and Marissa reached the stairs. Marissa was on the second step, her hand on Brent's shoulder, her head bent to catch was he saying. She laughed then cupped his cheek. Brent pressed her palm to his lips.

"Oh, shit," muttered Tuesday.

Small black dots danced in Dane's vision and buzzing filled his ears. He felt like a cloud of bees had descended on his head. His legs stiffened and it was an effort to keep walking.
What's wrong with you, Sinclair? She can screw whoever she wants.

Tuesday sprinted ahead, tossing the basketball up with one hand and catching it behind his back. Dane wished the boy would slam the ball into Brent's head. Instead, like a big show-off, he twirled it on his finger and asked, "Hey, Miss M! Did you have a nice time?"

U
.S
. MARSHAL KADE Murphy took a beer out of his refrigerator and slammed the door shut. He stomped into his living room, turned on the television, and sat down on his worn leather couch. Twisting off the lid of the beer, he flicked it onto the coffee table, and watched the metal lid spin in a lazy circle. It hit the side of his unused glass ashtray and stopped with a tinny clink.