“Oh, I couldn’t.” She turned rosy red. Her eyes darted to the guy she’d come with. He was showing Anthony a scar on his forearm and bragging about sliding into third base.
“Just a few lines,” Mark encouraged quietly. “I have a daughter, she—maybe she’d enjoy learning the song too.”
She sucked in as if she could draw courage through her breath, before nodding. He’d sing this song a thousand times with Chloe, just to remember the blush on Allie’s cheeks.
Allie cleared her throat. “I can be like Noah …” she began. Her voice was pure and sweet. Gaining confidence as she went, she did little hand movements for each line, her eyes dancing and her body swaying, putting on a performance that drew in the guys on the other side of the table. Their conversation stopped.
Mark had the insane desire to move with her. No wonder the kids loved her. She was—he stopped dead in his thoughts—real.
Allie wiggled her fingers and waving her hands to imitate rain. When she finished, the whole table clapped and she turned bright pink—just like he thought she would. The sight made his heart pound against his rib cage.
“Do you sing professionally?” asked Beau.
“No. Well, I did a few musicals in high school and at the local theater, but that was a long time ago.” She fumbled with her napkin, clearly uncomfortable being the center of attention.
“Beau, what’s your latest movie?” George asked, and the conversation changed.
Mark nudged her with his shoulder, the contact zinging right to his gut and then bouncing around. “You should try performing somewhere. At least karaoke—it’s obvious you love to sing.”
“Thanks, but that ship sank a few years ago.”
“You could—” Mark was cut off by Kate, who appeared in front of their table.
“Has everyone had enough to eat?” She didn’t wait for a response. “Okay then, let’s come over here and get those autographs going.”
George pouted like a five-year-old as he got out of his seat. Mark reached out to put his hand on the small of Allie’s back and yanked it back at the last second. Stuffing his hands in his pockets seemed like a good idea.
She checked her phone.
“Are you in a hurry?”
She tucked the phone guiltily into her back pocket all covered with sparkles—yeah, he’d checked out her backside. He was a guy, okay? “Just excited to get to the hotel and soak in a tub.”
The conversation with Kate about the additional hotel room came to mind. Had Allie asked for the extra room, or was that George? Probably George. He’d dropped several hints about making lunch a standing monthly get-together or meeting up for a game sometime.
Mark glanced down and found a baseball in Allie’s hand. For Anthony, no doubt. And there would be a T-shirt or glossy photo for him to sign too. He’d been temporarily blinded by her cute choir director performance. But in the end, Allie was just like everyone else who wanted a piece of him. At least he’d seen a flicker of truth in her. But, he cautioned himself, a flicker wasn’t enough to sustain a relationship of true value.
Except his gut told him that Allie was different in all the right ways.
Allie handed the baseball to Anthony. “Can you make that out to José, please?”
Anthony poised the sharpie over the ball. “Sure. Is that your son?”
“He’s my friend’s son. He’s the cutest kid in the world and he’s probably your biggest fan.” Excitement to give José the baseball built inside her chest and bubbled out as a laugh. “He’ll probably sleep with it. This is going to make his year.”
“Has he been to a game?” asked Anthony.
“He has a hard time sitting still.”
“Sounds like a kid; you should take him,” said Mark. He’d stuck close to her side and at one point Allie swore he’d touched her back. When she turned, his hand was in his pocket. Maybe she’d only been hoping for the contact.
Allie shook her head slightly. “He has autism and a few other health problems. Getting him to his social group is a major effort. He couldn’t sit in the stadium seats for long.”
A deep line appeared between Mark’s brows. “Where’s his social group?”
“At Aaron’s Home for Autistic Children. They have a craft class on Fridays that he loves.”
Anthony handed her back the baseball. “Maybe I could help with that.” He gestured to the pregnant woman Allie had talked to about being a mom. She’d hung out in the corner with Kate and a few of the other staff members during the lunch. Maybe she was Anthony’s personal assistant. That would explain the funny look she gave when Allie asked if she’d won a contest too. She glided over to their group—seriously so graceful.
“Did we give away all the VIP tickets yet?” Anthony asked.
She placed her hand on Anthony’s arm. Not in a possessive way, but in an I-can-hardly-stand-being-so-close-and-not-touching-you way. Allie glanced down to see their matching rings. Oh! Not his personal assistant, his wife. She watched the two of them discuss the ticket situation all while having a whole other conversation—one that asked how she was feeling, she replied that she was tired but happy to be here, and he said I love you—all without speaking a word.
Allie pressed her hand against her chest, where an ache for someone to love like that opened a hole. She’d thought Reed would be her one and only forever and always, but he wasn’t. Giving up that dream of someone to love had been harder than giving up that no-good cheat.
Allie stole a glance at Mark. Falling into eye-conversations wouldn’t be difficult with him. Her cheeks burned. She shouldn’t even entertain thoughts like that about him. Different universes.
“I think we have a few left, why?” asked Leticia.
“There’s a kid named José who needs to see a home game.” Anthony brushed his wife’s hair over her shoulder.
Surprised by his generosity, Allie waved her hands. “You don’t have to do that, really—the baseball will be more than enough.”
“Nonsense, let me get your address and I’ll have them sent over. They’re box seats.”
Allie held up her hands. “What does that mean?”
“It means he’ll have a couch to watch the game from,” said Anthony.
“That’s really so sweet of you.” Allie knew she was gushing, but there was no stopping the torrent of gratitude. “He posts the schedule on his bedroom door every season and marks who won and who lost, and he talks about the players like he knows them. He’s going to flip out.”
“Are you going with him?” asked Mark, his eyebrows drawn together.
“Me? No way. His mom should go.” Allie laughed. “Who do you think taught him all the players’ names?”
Mark frowned.
Allie glanced at the group. George looked like he could lock her behind bars forever. Oops. “Selina is one of my heroes—the kind of person who’s handed a tough life and thanks the good Lord for the privilege.”
The group stood there, staring at Allie. She folded her shoulders in, embarrassed.
“Did you have something for me to sign?” asked Beau, stepping into her personal space. She smiled. Beau’s attention was flattering—kind of nice to know a guy who dated supermodels wasn’t repulsed by an everyday waitress, but he wasn’t what she was looking for.
“I didn’t.” Allie furrowed her brow. “I feel horrible. I didn’t think I’d upset y’all if I didn’t bring something for everyone.” She didn’t mention that she’d given her two other slots to George. He was happily chatting up Mark about sports cars.
Beau grabbed a napkin. “How about José’s mom—maybe she’d like an autograph?”
“I think she’d swoon.” Allie laughed.
“Maybe I should give her this in person, then.” Beau’s charm went up three notches.
“That might trigger a heart attack.”
“How old is she?”
“She’s in her late forties.”
“That’s a little older than I usually date—but …” Beau
’s hazel eyes danced.
“Probably a good idea to steer clear; she could be more woman than you can handle,” Allie teased back.
To her surprise, Beau hugged her. He had to bend down to get his arms around her, and the experience brought to mind being hugged by a bear, he was so darn big, but the sentiment behind the contact was sweet, brotherly even.
She turned her head on Beau’s shoulder and met Mark’s gaze. While Beau may be easy to joke with, Mark was the one who truly put her at ease. At ease enough to sing in front of men who took the stage for a living.
Yes, Mark’s strong jaw, piercing blue eyes, and overwhelming physique left her mind spinning and her temperature rising, but his sincere interest had drawn her into a place she hadn’t intended to go. Goodness sakes, she’d never be able to go to a Slade McCoy movie again without melting into a pool of popcorn butter and desire.
“Do you want me to sign something too?” Mark asked. There was an edge to his question that took her off guard.
Despite knowing this would be her last conversation with the famous movie star, Allie couldn’t help but blush. “Sorry, I’m all out of napkins.”
Mark’s shoulders fell—like she’d hurt his feelings. Poor famous Hollywood star. There were probably fifty women outside right now who would love to have his autograph. Little ol’ Allie Gray couldn’t hurt his feelings … could she? She watched him from the corner of her eye as he thanked Kate and the others who made this all possible.
Kate ushered George and her through the growing number of fans and into the limo. Allie glanced over her shoulder for one last glimpse of the life she was never meant to live but had been gifted for one afternoon. As nice as they all were, Mark was the only one she would have stood outside a restaurant in the Georgia heat for the opportunity to see again.
Maybe she should have had him sign the back of her shirt just so that when she was back to being a waitress at a run-down café, she could remember how it felt to have Mark DuBois’s undivided interest tingle over her skin as she sang.
The inside of the limo was dark and Allie’s eyes took a moment to adjust. When they did, she found George leaning way too close, a conspiratorial look in his eye. “That was a great time.”
“It was. Thanks for the tip.” Allie leaned her head against the seat, soaking in the clean carpet scent and the feel of rich leather against her skin. Leather, like Mark. He must have leather seats in his car and that’s how he picked up the scent. Sensuous warmth ran through her veins as the pictured him driving off, wearing his shades, his strong jaw flexing as he maneuvered deftly through downtown traffic.
George leaned his shoulder against hers, jerking her out of her daydream. “I have a girl on standby, but if you say the word, you can stay the night with me.”
Ew! “No, thank you.” Allie scooted closer to the door.
Kate cleared her throat. “There are a couple points we need to go over.”
“What about you, sweetheart? Wanna spend the night at the Ritz?” George winked, his ears wiggled.
Kate stared him down until George slunk into his own corner of the car. When he was sufficiently subdued, Kate continued, “The room is covered, but you’ll need to give them a credit card for incidentals.”
“No way!” George bolted up in his seat. “They aren’t covering room service or anything? Cheap sons of a—”
Kate cleared her throat.
Allie pressed her fist to her stomach. Her credit card had disappeared with her ex-husband. The bill, however, showed up on the fifteenth of every month. The company shut down the card, but there were still a couple thousand dollars’ worth of charges to clear up. In the meantime, she couldn’t qualify for a new one.
Now what was she going to do? With her apartment covered in noxious fumes, she’d be sleeping on the side of the road.
“You have a hundred-dollar limit for incidentals. Any amount over that will need to be covered by you.”
George grumbled but didn’t argue further.
Allie faced the window, where the girl staring back at her turned green. The car slowed to a stop in front of the Ritz.
Kate pointed to George. “This is your stop.” She turned to Allie. Her face had a softness that she didn’t offer to George, and Allie was grateful she was still on Kate’s good side. She might not be after she explained her credit card situation. Sleeping in the bathtub was looking like a viable option.
“If you’ll wait here, I’ll be back in just a moment.”
Kate was back in less than five minutes. Her steps were lighter than before, no doubt happy to be rid of the officer because he wasn’t much of a gentleman.
“Whew.” Kate swiped the hair off her forehead. “We’ll get you all tucked in for the night. I’m sorry we couldn’t get you a room here.”
“It’s okay, really,” Allie assured her.
Kate plucked at her skirt. “The hotel is … less than ideal. We can drop you off at home if you’d rather take a cash voucher.”
Allie shook her head. “My apartment building is being fumigated and I can’t go back for twenty-four hours. I’m really grateful for the spare room—I don’t care what hotel it’s at.”
“You might once you see it,” muttered Kate.
Allie brushed her worries aside. She would lock herself in the room and not come out until morning if need be. Anyplace was better than the street. “Listen.” She scooted forward in her seat. “I have a confession.”
“What’s that?” Kate cocked her head.
The words tumbled out. “I don’t have a credit card. I promise I won’t eat so much as a bag of nuts and I won’t turn on the television. I’ll just take a bath and go to bed early.”
Kate waved her off. “I’m not worried about you. George would have cost us the whole budget and then some if I’d given him free rein, but you’ll be fine. Use the hundred dollars—order some macadamia nuts or whatever they have to offer.”
Relief washed over her like warm bathwater on a cold day. She hated having this credit issue hang over her. Facing the issue again had taken all the confidence she’d gained talking with Mark and smashed it deep down inside where she lost sight of who she could have been. Reed shouldn’t have that much influence over her anymore, and yet somehow, someway, he managed to darken even her fairy-tale afternoon.
What she needed was a big dose of Mark. She blushed just thinking about him. Unfortunately, the clock had struck midnight and she’d turned into a pumpkin. Or maybe she was the mouse, timid and vulnerable. Either way, she wasn’t the princess.
They pulled to a stop outside of a two-story hotel with a broken front door and window units leaving stains under every window. Gritting her teeth, she steeled herself to sleep with the lights on to keep the cockroaches at bay.
She was back to her reality, and she might as well get used to it.
Chapter Five
Mark hung around the pizza place with Beau, Anthony, and Leticia. The late afternoon sun bathed the place in a rosy glow. The staff lowered the blinds, giving the guys some privacy since there were two hundred plus fans outside. The security detail had the perimeter under control and the chef cranked out pizzas for the remaining staff. They trickled out, giving the impression the event was winding down.
Beau had sent out a tweet thanking George and Allie for the great afternoon, including a pic of all of them at the table. He’d also mentioned heading home to play some pool with the guys. If they waited for a half hour, most of the people outside would assume they’d snuck out the back and they could leave in relative peace.
Beau rolled up the sleeves of his button-up shirt. “I’m glad that’s over with—the cop was a card, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah.” Anthony shook his head.
“I liked Allie, though.” Leticia rubbed her belly affectionately—like the baby could feel her. What did he know? Maybe the baby could sense a mother’s love. She’d been doing that all afternoon, and Anthony had a dopey smile on his face each and every time he caught her a
t it. Being around the two of them when they acted all in love and crap was difficult.
However, after spending those few minutes listening to Allie sing, he could kind of understand where the two of them were coming from. Which was weird, right?
“Hey.” Beau lifted his glass and took a sip. “Kate should have dropped George off at that scuzzy hotel. I’ll bet he flipped out when he realized he wasn’t staying at the Ritz.”
“Probably—she said he’d bucked at every rule she put up,” added Anthony.
“Call her and find out how the drop-off went.” Beau kicked his feet up on the chair across from him.
Mark had been fighting the urge to find out if Allie was all settled and this was as good of an excuse as any. The phone rang once before Kate picked up.
“Hey, Kate—how’d it go?” Better to start with generalities than jump right in to finding out if Allie had enough bubble bath. Beau nudged him, and he put the call on speaker phone.
“Better than expected. They’re all settled for the night.”
“What room at the Ritz?” asked Leticia. “I’d like to send over some of my bath salts.” Leticia had a small company that made herbal body lotions and soaps. Mark had given a large basket to his mom for Christmas. She raved over them, so he’d sent another—just to spoil her.
“Hang on.”
They waited while Kate checked whatever device she’d noted the information on. “216,” she finally replied.
“Thank you,” called Leticia.
216. 216. 216.
Mark took the call off speaker. The conversation hadn’t told him about Allie’s well-being—or if she liked the room. She probably loved the complementary bathrobes and fruit baskets. Maybe she’d thrown herself across the bed, her arms spread wide. He wasn’t about to ask for particulars with Beau and Anthony on the call, though. He’d never hear the end of it from them.
The conversation did, however, give him one giant opportunity—he had her room number. What he was going to do with it was a whole other question. “Today went great. Take the weekend off, will you?” he told Kate.
It Could Happen to Us: Quotable Romance Page 4