Текст книги "If You Dare"
Автор книги: Jessica Lemmon
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 12 страниц)
Screw it. If it came to that, he’d go solo. He wasn’t going to bring a nameless chick to the dinner and flaunt her in Lily’s face. And he hoped she wouldn’t call one of her exes just to avoid showing up alone.
So all he had to do was…he didn’t know what. Killing every other guy she’d ever dated seemed extreme. Maybe he could tell her she had to be his date since she was getting half of Hawaii. He frowned. He wanted her to want to go with him. Why the hell did he want that? Getting her to comply wasn’t enough. He wanted Lily willing. Ready and willing, he thought with a lift of his brows.
“Nice.”
Marcus spun to find Clive stepping into his office, and he rerouted his thoughts away from Lily.
“Seriously,” his friend said, approaching the drafting table. “Nice work.”
Proudly, Marcus studied his drawings. “Thanks.”
“I thought these weren’t due until the fifth.”
“They aren’t. I had some time this weekend.”
Clive grunted. “Didn’t go like you wanted it to, I guess.”
But it had. And it hadn’t. Clive didn’t wait for an answer, and Marcus was grateful.
“So, before the Retail Design Dinner, Joanie would like to have you and Lily over to the house to celebrate Reginald London Superstores account.”
“Didn’t we do that at the Shot Spot?” The night he’d gotten to see Lily in a way he’d never seen her before. The night he’d made the bet that finally got her naked and underneath him.
“The Shot Spot, Joanie says, is not a proper celebration place.”
Marcus figured she had a point. “Flat beer and stale pretzels, pool and a jukebox playing seventies country hits aren’t her idea of a good time?”
Clive laughed. “Yeah. No. She is taking some French pastry class and wants to do dessert and champagne and set up the tables like some sort of patisserie.” He shook his head and plunged his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know. Anyway, you have to come.”
“I do not.” An intimate evening spent with Lily in front of the friends they weren’t supposed to tell about their being together? Sounded like a disaster waiting to happen.
Marcus gestured at the drawings in front of him. “I’m pretty busy with this design.”
“You’re two weeks ahead of schedule.”
“Then there’s the speech,” Marcus hedged. Not that he had to write it. It was written and rewritten. He’d cut it down, added to it, and finally arrived at something he thought he could get through without throwing up. That was the only goal at this point.
“Hey, you can’t work all the time,” Clive said, ignoring Marcus’s excuses. “Sorry, buddy, not letting you back out of this one. “Friday night, seven.”
“What if I have a date?” Marcus said in a last ditch effort to extricate himself.
“Lily’s already invited.” Clive grinned, a knowing look in his eyes.
Shit. His friend may not know what exactly happened at Willow mansion, but he knew too much already.
…
“There’s no way. I’m…I’m so behind here,” Lily threw her hands in the direction of her desk, which was covered with exactly three sheets of paper.
“Yeah,” Joanie said, disbelief lining her voice. “You look buried.” She folded her hands in front of her. “Please? I’m making croissants.”
“I’m on a low-carb diet?” Lily offered, biting her lip.
Joanie sat in the chair across from Lily’s desk. “The truth is,” she whispered, “I’m inviting Reginald, too.”
“Reginald London?” Just saying his name made her spine straighten.
Joanie nodded. “And his wife, Felicia. But don’t tell Clive. I don’t want him to be nervous.”
“Why Marcus…I mean, why us? Why do we need to be there?” Just asking “why” made her sound as uncomfortable as she felt. Normally, she’d do whatever her friend asked.
“I need buffers! Those two are intimidating. Besides, you were the designers who won this account. I want to show you off.” Joanie grinned.
Sweet, non-judgmental, clueless Joanie. How would Lily continue lying to her best friend? And who would she talk to about her confusing feelings if she couldn’t confide in Joanie? And she couldn’t. Joanie knew what happened with Emmett at Lily’s former workplace. Surely, she’d have some advice to give. And she didn’t think it’d be encouraging advice. Joanie was sweet and fun, but she was also smart and savvy. She owned this business, and her little firm had busted through a glass ceiling when Marcus won designer of the year. Lily wouldn’t risk her own reputation, but she also wouldn’t risk the reputation of her best friend’s business. Not when she and Clive had worked so hard.
“Please? Just a few hours of munching on pastries and sipping champagne.”
Lily sighed in defeat. “Can I bring anything?”
Joanie bounced up from the chair with a huge smile on her face. “Nope. Just yourself. Seven o’clock Friday, but if you want to show early you can watch me plate the food.”
“Okay.” Surely she and Marcus could coexist at a simple cocktail party.
“You’re a doll!” Joanie blew her air kisses and exited the office.
Lily sagged in her chair and tried to think about what she’d wear. Marcus would prefer a short dress, and no panties. Which meant she should probably wear her stiff pantsuit and chunky jewelry.
An email notification slid onto the corner of her computer screen. Normally, she would have checked it later, but she could have sworn the name that popped up had said…
A few quick clicks had her stomach sinking like a stone surrounded by concrete.
Emmett Webster.
The very man who had claimed she’d stolen his design to get ahead. The man who wooed her and promised no one would find out about the office fling, then advertised it after knowing their sexist pig of a boss would take Emmett’s word over hers.
The loss of the job had been upsetting to say the least, but the loss of her hard work and reputation, having to rebuild completely, had been devastating.
And now, two years later, out of the blue, he was emailing her?
Don’t open it.
But she would. Of course she would.
“Hey Lily of the Valley!” the email started. Lily because of her name, Valley because of her cleavage. Stupidest nickname ever, and he thought he was being just so clever. He did it to irritate her. Mission accomplished. Everything about him irritated her. She steeled herself and read the rest.
Hey Lily of the Valley!
I heard through the grapevine, namely Reginald London who I now work for, that you were over at Cameron Designs. You’re probably stoked to be in a small office with friends without the pressure you were under before.
The dig didn’t escape her attention—his way of saying she couldn’t make it in a big corporate office. The bastard. And why would London hire him? Did she owe the universe a major debt or something?
Anyway, just wanted to drop you a line and let you know I’d see you at the RSD dinner this year. I skipped the last two, just wasn’t into it.
Why this year, then? Just to ruin her life?
I’ve been asked to present the designer of the year award and wanted to give you a heads up since it’s a guy from your office. Marcus Black. He’s damned impressive. The design for London’s store is fantastic and we can’t stop talking about him over here. Just remember not to wear anything too revealing to the dinner. You don’t want everyone to assume you have more boobs than brains! LOL.
See you, babe.
Emmett
Lily didn’t know what to be more offended by: the “more boobs than brains” thing or the “babe” thing. The insult was something she’d heard often from him when they dated. The fact that he’d gone out of his way to bring it up now proved his habit of marginalizing her—controlling her—was alive and well.
Marcus had added the short-skirt-no-panties thing into the bet for the RSD dinner, and she’d shrugged it off as boys being boys. But weighed against Emmett’s shit-for-brains email, Marcus’s dare sort of proved that he respected her at work. He didn’t worry someone would get the wrong impression just because she dressed sexy. He knew she had brains and boobs and respected both parts of her. She knew because at Willow Mansion he’d told her just how big a part she’d played in landing the London account. She didn’t think he was just saying that, no more than she was when she told him he was the best in the business. That was a rare revealing moment between them…followed by an even more revealing moment.
Anyway.
Focus.
She tore her mind off Marcus’s delicious abs and bare chest and glared at the word “babe” in the signoff on Emmett’s email. The moniker “asshat” she’d teasingly assigned to Marcus belonged firmly after Emmett D. Webster’s name.
Maybe she’d just show Emmett and wear not only a short skirt to the dinner, but also a low-cut top, high heels, and zero undergarments. An evil smile stole over her face.
Yes. Maybe she’d do that. Then her smile vanished. She couldn’t let Emmett—or anyone—know that she was there with Marcus, though. Not if she didn’t want her past making an unwanted comeback…like acid-washed jeans.
“McIntire.” Marcus stepped into her office and lifted a takeout menu. “Chinese?”
On the heels of that email, his presence was a breath of fresh, musky, pine-scented air. “Sure.”
“Let me guess.” He put the menu to his forehead, closed his eyes, and pretended to read her mind. “Kung Pao chicken, spice level number seven.”
Damn. Exactly right. She crossed her arms over her breasts. “Okay, smarty. Like you’re not going to order the orange beef, level ten, with a double order of crab rangoon?”
“Level twelve.” He pointed the menu like he had something on her.
“That sounds hot,” she said, a smile curving her lips.
“Honey, you have no idea.” With a wink, he turned and held up the menu as Clive passed him in the hallway. “Chinese?” she heard him ask.
Face warm from Marcus’s departing comment, Lily deleted Emmett’s email with a decisive click.
Chapter Fourteen
The rest of the week went as per their usual.
Sort of.
Lily ran into Marcus in the morning scarfing down donuts near the coffeemaker. They ate lunch in the conference room together everyday, and discussed projects. But what wasn’t normal was how there were at least two times when she would have gone to his office to ask his opinion, but she hadn’t. She’d gone to Joanie instead, and Clive once, too. Avoidance wasn’t like her, and it wasn’t like Marcus to let her get away with it.
She supposed they were both being careful. Which should have made her feel better but the circumventing was…silly. It made the get-together at Clive and Joanie’s house tomorrow night seem all the more challenging since she and Marcus hadn’t really talked things through yet.
“How many of these do you think I can fit into my mouth at once?”
She looked up from her design for the end caps for a local pet shop, which she updated once a month, to see Marcus with a jar of gumballs in his hand. “Why…would you do that?”
He shrugged. “You like to dare me to do things.”
“No, you like to dare me to do things. I like to work.”
He abandoned the gumballs on the corner of her desk. “Gift from Lonnie over at the candy store for the design we did last month.”
“Oh, thoughtful.”
“Are we going to talk about what happened at the mansion?”
She looked away from the colorful gumballs. Marcus had his feet crossed at the ankles and was leaning in her doorway, arms crossed, muscles standing out in his forearms. She pictured him without a shirt and got lightheaded.
“The ghost?” she asked.
“The sex,” he said. Bluntly.
Her cheeks grew warm and then warmer when he straightened, closed the door, and crossed the room. He sat on the corner of her desk, one khaki-encased thigh really close to her. She allowed her eyes to move up to his face. “Okay.”
“You don’t want to have sex with me again,” he stated.
So not true.
“I… don’t think we should,” she said, then volleyed back, “Do you?”
“You think the mansion was a fluke.”
He wasn’t going to answer her questions either, she could see. “I think it was…intense there. The environment. The circumstance.”
“Intense.”
Flashes of what happened lit the screen of her memory and her breasts grew heavy. Her face was downright hot. Marcus tipped her chin with one finger. “I dare you to go back for one more night with me.”
She nearly choked. “Are you insane?”
“No, determined. To prove to you what’s between us wasn’t a trick of the light. We have something that could be something, McIntire. But I need you to admit it.”
Shuffling papers that didn’t need shuffling was a great way to avoid looking at him. “Well, I’m…that’s not going to happen. Willow Mansion can keep all my things because I’m not setting foot back in that haunted funhouse.”
“Or back in bed with me.”
She shook her head, chickening out. The truth was she’d love to, but it was also true that there was too much on the line if she did.
He nodded in response, but it was robotic. Grim. When he opened her door, she stopped him with, “Your jar.”
“Keep them,” he said. “We’ll see if you’re able to keep your hands off me tomorrow night.”
He shut her door behind him and she stared at the pink, blue, white, yellow, and orange gumballs in the jar. He’d just issued a dare of another kind, and against her better sense the challenge sounded just as sweet as the multi-colored candies staring back at her.
…
Joanie had said “nothing fancy.” Hmph.
Lily scanned her closet, scraping hangers left then right, then right then left again. Nothing. She had nothing to wear save for her standard work wardrobe. And why did she care? Certainly not because Marcus would be there. Certainly not because she would be seeing him during the cover of night for the first time since the mansion. Certainly not because he’d dropped as juvenile (and sweat-inducing) a challenge as “bet you can’t keep your hands off me.”
Good lord, he wasn’t that irresistible.
Was he?
Anyway, it wasn’t like she would morph into a sex-crazed monster at the sight of the full moon. She let loose a laugh, but it was an uneasy one. She couldn’t just…have sex with him again. She pulled a delicate, slightly see-through blouse out of her closet and frowned. Could she?
Not without a really good reason.
How about because he makes you see stars when he kisses you?
Yeah, that. Not to mention that watching his shoulders move under his clothes while they were at work had soaked her brain in memories of him shirtless, sliding into her, saying her name…
Oh, Lord. She put the blouse back into her closet and traded it for a less-sheer shirt.
Tonight was such a bad idea.
Lily and Clive’s 1900s home stood on the edge of a sidewalk, old and brick, structurally beautiful. A cherry tree dominated their miniscule front lawn, and a short wrought iron fence looped their property, including the quaint backyard filled with more trees.
As she stepped over the leaves littering the walk, she heard a car pull up to the curb. Nerves jumped like jackrabbits in her stomach. It was six o’clock, but dusk had fallen, giving the neighborhood a spooky fall feeling.
A car door closed. Heavy shoes approached from behind her, crunching leaves beneath their soles. She scaled the porch steps, still not turning, picturing the man embodying those sounds: the wide frame, the girth and length that had settled between her thighs a few days ago, the way his tongue swept her nipples, the rogue glint in his eyes as he admired her nakedness.
Okay, she’d become a little sex obsessed since he’d made her say his name. Sue her.
At the door, she turned, flipped her hair off her shoulder, and locked eyes with Marcus. He was climbing the stairs, wearing a pair of black dress pants and a gray dress shirt. His hair was damp as if he’d just showered, and he smelled…wow. Heavenly. Like fall itself had cloaked him.
“You look hot,” he said, the side of his mouth hitching.
She shook her head and smiled, ran a hand down her simple black skirt. “You have a way with words.”
“I speak the truth.” He tipped his head toward the door. “You knock yet?”
She shook her head.
“We’re early.”
“We are.”
They stood in silence for a moment.
“Walk with me.”
She pulled a breath into her lungs and turned away from the door. Dinner didn’t start for an hour.
Taking her silence for acquiescence, he took her hand and pulled her down the steps. The pace casual, they started down the sidewalk as a gentle, cool breeze blew. His fingers laced with hers.
“Talk to me, McIntire,” he said when they’d gotten a few houses away from the Camerons’.
“Um.” She thought for a second then asked, “How’s the speech going?”
He slid her a look. “Talk to me about something else.”
She grinned up at him. “Still nervous about that?”
“Know what I’m nervous about?”
Her heart mule-kicked her chest. Her? Them? Getting her to admit that she missed him more now that they’d slept together? It was as if she hadn’t known what she was missing, and now she did.
Also, she was afraid he would win that bet he’d made yesterday. Technically, she thought as she looked down at their linked fingers, he already had. She couldn’t keep her hands off him.
“Tonight,” he said.
Well. There was no better intro than that. She dropped his hand and walked to the corner. He followed. When they reached the stop sign, she opened her mouth, and then closed it while she waited for a woman walking her dog to pass.
“It’s something, isn’t it? This…what’s between us?” she asked. It wasn’t smart. It wasn’t what she should want, but in the dead of night, in the bright morning, in the days since the mansion where she tried, and failed, to forget what happened between them, she’d realized there was no denying a spark had ignited. And if she couldn’t deny it, she needed to deal with it.
He didn’t laugh her off, change the subject, or shy away. “Yes.”
“At first I thought maybe it was the mansion. Because we were afraid. Adrenaline was up…or something.”
“Or something.” His dark eyes heated. He took a step closer to her and grasped her hips, his nostrils flaring as he took slow inventory of every inch of her face.
“Looks like you’re the one who can’t keep your hands off me,” she said, her heart thundering in her eardrums.
“Looks like.” He kissed her, slow and soft at first, then harder as he slid his tongue into her mouth. Her palm went to the back of his head, and her body molded into his. Nipples erect, she rubbed against him, wanting…gosh. Just wanting him so much it hurt. She’d thought about him all week: in the shower this morning, in her bed, at lunch…
But what she wanted most of all was him inside her.
He tore his mouth from hers, sucking in a breath and twining his fingers in her hair. “Come home with me, McIntire.”
“I…we have the party.” But a certain spot between her legs throbbed the word yes in Morse code.
“After the party.” His eyes grew dark, his tone dropped even lower. “Let me take you to my bed,” he said, moving his hands from her hair and running his fingertips down her neck. She suppressed a shudder. “And I’ll show you all the ways you can come beneath me.” His grip tightened on her hips. “And on top of me.”
She tried to find her voice. Impossible.
He smirked, knowing he was getting to her, that her resolve was eroding the more he talked. “And in front of me, Lily.”
“Okay” was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t say it.
Apparently he didn’t need to hear it, or had read the answer in her eyes, because next he took her hand and walked toward Joanie and Clive’s house once again.
“It’s just cocktails and dessert,” he said. “How long could it last?”
…
An eternity.
Cocktails and dessert could last until the dawn of a new fucking age.
Marcus smiled tightly at Reginald, who’d been blathering on about…God. He had no clue. He’d tuned him out eons ago.
He slipped a look over his shoulder at Lily, who was standing, wineglass in hand, poised with a smile on her face he’d bet was as strained as the one on his. Oh, if Felicia London, who was talking with her hands and flashing what looked like several hundred karats of diamond jewelry, knew what was under that polite façade. Joanie, who stood in that little circle, caught Marcus’s eyes and rolled hers. Yeah, drinks and dessert had gone a little longer than she’d planned, as well.
Clive had managed to avoid Marcus and Reginald both. Because he was smart. And a dick. He knew if he got roped into Reginald’s storytelling he’d be rooted to the same spot for ages. Well. Marcus had been rooted on this same spot and was in desperate need of a break. When Clive walked by on his way to the bar to refill his wine, Marcus tuned into the tail end of what Reginald was saying.
“…and mounted it in my den. Big moose.” Reginald nodded and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Big-ass moose, Marcus.”
“You know, Clive was telling me a hunting story the other day,” Marcus said. Clive, hearing his name, turned his head, then narrowed his eyelids. Marcus grinned and continued lying his pants off. “You remember, Clive. The one about the deer. And the rabbits.” He turned to Reginald. “Hilarious. Wait’ll you hear it.” He backed a few steps away when Reginald turned his attention to Clive. “If you’ll excuse me for a minute, I have to visit the facilities.”
He swaggered away, but not before hearing Clive start a story that did not until just now exist. He caught Lily’s eye as he went. She lifted one prim eyebrow. He winked. Joanie and Felicia were ensconced in conversation, and as he walked past in the direction of the bathroom, he heard Lily excuse herself as well.
Clive and Joanie’s house was big, and given the fact he’d been there about nine hundred and forty-three times, Marcus knew his way around. The huge eat-in kitchen contained a dining room table that sat ten, a breakfast bar and island in the center of the room, and a newly built pantry Clive and Marcus had designed a few months back. The pantry not only stocked food but also had a humidor for cigars and shelving to hold bottles of wine.
It was kick-ass. He’d just stopped in front of its double doors when he heard heels click behind him. He turned and snagged Lily’s arm, opened the pantry, and closed them inside.
He had her up against a wall in a nanosecond, his mouth fused with hers a second later. She tasted like crisp white wine, apples, and something else… Her, he realized. It was a taste he’d gotten a sample of at the end of the block, a taste he hadn’t been able to forget since the night at Willow Mansion. Much as he wanted to make an excuse and leave, he hadn’t found an opening yet. And this, her, was exactly what he needed. Her palms went to his chest, her touch burning him down to the soles of his dress shoes.
After parting, she breathed, “I’m about to fake a burst appendix.”
“Joanie would insist on coming to the hospital,” he reminded her, his hands sliding down her lower back and over her skirt.
“I know. What about you, can you fake something?”
“Not me, baby. I’m a hundred percent real.”
A grin took over her lips, and then she shocked the hell out of him by cupping his junk in one hand. His semi– was becoming a full-on. And fast.
“Yep,” she purred up at him. “That’s real, all right.”
She unbuttoned his slacks. “I figure since we can’t ignore what’s between us, we’ll just have to indulge.”
“How much have you had to drink?” he couldn’t help but ask. It wasn’t like her to be careless, or risky.
“It’s been a long week, Black.” She unzipped him next, reaching into his underwear and squeezing his cock. He grunted and she shushed him. “Anyway, stop talking.”
He swallowed and dutifully kept his mouth shut, his blood roaring as Lily stroked him again. She backed him into a shelf, sending boxes of cereal wobbling behind him. His senses were heightened in the dark. It was like they were back in the mansion, groping in the dark and finding each other. Lily’s hands tugged his pants and boxers down, and she slid to her knees in front of him. A sliver of light from the crack under the door allowed him a tease of what she had planned. And he liked what he saw.
From the champagne, or maybe the rush of lust, Lily’s inhibitions were down, her guard dropped, and Marcus would have been all for it—okay, was all for it—but for the fact that their best friends were a few rooms over with their latest clients…
God. This was stupid. Was he really going to let Lily go down on him while—
He felt the tip of her tongue flick over his cock and he conked his skull against some cans behind him.
Yes. Hell yes, he was.
“Kiss me, beautiful,” he begged, wanting those lips again.
“Oh, I plan on it.” She smiled against his skin, then wrapped her lips around the head of his penis.
Aaaaaand…he was going to die.
He’d always thought of blowjobs as gifts from above, especially when an exquisite creature was willing and ready to perform one. He didn’t like to brag, but he’d gotten more than a few girls on their knees. He thought he knew just what to expect.
Except he hadn’t counted on Lily.
Once she licked the head, she scraped the fleshy part with her teeth, then sucked, then repeated the process. The sensations shooting up his spine were nothing short of glorious. He gripped the shelf behind him with one hand and wound the fingers of his other hand into her hair while she worked. And damn, she was working it. Working him. He thought she’d continue worshipping the tip, which, hey, he had zero problems with, but then her mouth opened and she swallowed him down, taking in every inch while he sucked a breath through his teeth and tried to maintain. What he wanted to do was pull her mouth off his cock, ruck that skirt up over her hips, and plunge deep inside her.
But since they were on borrowed minutes before Clive or Joanie or, God help him, both of them, came looking, he guessed he wouldn’t get that far.
Damn shame, too. Not that he wasn’t enjoying her mouth on him. A little too much, actually.
“McIntire,” he grunted, fisting her hair in his hand as she hummed, taking him deeper. The sound reverberated in his balls and tingled low in his spine.
“Lily, I—oh, fuck.” Whatever words he’d been planning to say shot out of his brain like a cannonball. He dropped his head against the shelf, bonking his head again and not caring even a little. He loosened his grip on her hair, enjoying the feel of her soft lips, lapping tongue, and the added bonus of her hand wrapped around the base of his shaft.
Then she picked up the pace. Yep. He was going to lose it.
Close. So, so close. Her fingers wrapped him tighter and he thrust his hips, sending him deeper into her mouth. She didn’t mind, either, opening wide to accommodate him. On the edge of coming, he was snapped back by an incredibly unwelcome interruption.
“Tawny port. We picked it up when we were in California last year,” came Joanie’s muffled voice growing ever closer to the pantry.
He lost Lily’s mouth in an instant. She rose to her feet and he jerked his pants over his hips and his cock while Joanie’s voice grew nearer, talking about notes of vanilla and how “one glass will do ya!”
Meanwhile, Marcus tucked his shirt in, bumping the head of his erection and wincing at the pain. He was right. He was going to die, but not in the fun way like he’d imagined earlier.
“Decent?” Lily whispered.
“Hardly,” he grunted.
The handle on the door turned and Marcus tugged Lily out of the way and hit the switch on the wall, bathing them in light. Her hair was disheveled, her lips plump, and his dick gave another mournful bob.
“Oh!” Joanie pressed a hand to her chest and Felicia stood next to her, looking equally shocked.
“Found it!” Lily shouted, reaching for a can behind Marcus’s head. She held up a can of cherry pie filling and Marcus wanted to howl. Good luck explaining that one. “Sorry. Can I borrow this?” She stepped in front of him, helpfully shielding his pants from view. “Oh, wait. Never mind.” She shook her head and replaced the can. “I thought that was peach.”
Joanie’s eyebrows rose significantly higher. “What…are you doing?”
“Marcus was showing me the newly redesigned pantry—looks great, by the way—and then he thought he’d be cute and shut the door on me,” Lily said. “He knows how afraid of the dark I am.”
Oh, boy. She was terrible at making things up on the fly.
“And then after letting me freak out for a minute, I got ahold of the switch. Thank goodness, because after the night at Willow—”
“Never gonna let her live that down,” he interrupted with what he hoped was an easy smile.
“That’s a story…” Joanie started.
“For another day,” Lily said. “I’m so, so sorry, but I have to get going. I’m just…exhausted.”
“I was just going to open a bottle of port. Care for a glass?” Joanie asked.
“No,” they answered at the same time.
“We’ll, uh… We’ll get out of your way.” Marcus steered Lily in front of him and out of the pantry.
“Yeah.” Oh, hell. Joanie knew something was up. And unless Felicia was stone deaf and blind to boot, so did she. Joanie covered smoothly, showing off the pantry and the wine shelves as Felicia commented on the vintages. But as Marcus navigated Lily through the kitchen, they encountered Clive and Reginald close behind him.
“Hey, guys,” Clive said, the words strung out into a series of long vowels. “What’s up?”
“Clive was telling me what a great poker player you are, Mr. Black,” Reginald said, evidently clueless as to why Lily’s hair was crushed and Marcus looked like a deer in headlights. “Cigars and poker.”
“Can’t.” Marcus kept Lily in front of him so as not to expose what was really between them. All eight-and-a-half inches of it. “Just got a text from my brother. He needs a lift. Car broke down.”
“Well, we—er, I should go, too,” Lily said. “My fish needs food and…” She didn’t even finish her sentence. Clive looked bemused.
Marcus clasped onto Lily’s hips like they were doing the conga and chased her out of the room. “See you Monday, Clive. Enjoy the poker game, Reginald. Another time, I’ll go all in.” Another time when he wasn’t so close to going all in with Lily.
“Drive safe, you two,” Clive called after him.
Out in the dining room, Lily beelined for the closet and tore her coat off a hanger, then slung her purse over one shoulder. “See you at my place,” she said as he opened the door.
“Your place?” Marcus felt his eyebrows lift.
She grinned as she slipped past him. “Mine’s closer.”
