They dropped hands, and he put his in his pockets as she glanced down the hall where he and Clint had parted company not long ago. “You’re a friend of Clint Hunter?” she asked. Her eyes snapped back to his a moment later. “Wait, you’re Mark? The guy staying for the weekend with us?”
Us.
Mark nodded. “Yeah. Should be a lot of fun.”
“Oh, I think so too,” she said eagerly, but with some nervousness mixed in. The same sweetness still radiated from her. All over again, he experienced the feeling that she was someone he could connect with. But he hadn’t taken the opportunity when he’d had it. Two years later, Clint had.
“It’s really nice to meet you, or, well, see you again, I guess,” she went on. “It’s kind of funny that I met you before Clint.”
“I’ll introduce the two of you at dinner, but from what he’s said, you guys have really hit it off.”
She blushed and looked away, tucking her hair behind her ear. He wanted to ask about her daughter. Then he could tell her about Dillon, too. The common ground could be something they could build on. But this was Clint’s weekend, not his. There was no reason for him to build anything. Mark wasn’t sure Clint even knew about Sarah’s daughter. Then again, Clint insisted this was a weekend fling. Maybe all of Mark’s impressions about this woman had been wrong. Maybe she was just as casual as Clint about these things. The problem was that Mark’s impressions didn’t feel wrong. Sheesh. Feelings. He forced a smile. He was Clint’s wingman. That was all.
“Clint’s got a lunch commitment he can’t get out of,” Mark said.
“Oh, that’s fine,” she said, but seemed relieved. “I’m glad he got in okay. Were you on the same flight?”
Mark nodded and put a hand over his stomach. “If I never eat another airport meal, it will be too soon.”
She smiled again, more genuine this time, less nervous. He liked that. The voice of the instructor filtered back to them as he welcomed everyone to the class. “We’d better get our seats,” Sarah said, adjusting her purse on her shoulder. “Do you want to sit together? It’s always nice to sit by someone you know.”
“That’d be great,” Mark said, smiling again and holding her eyes long enough that she looked away first, perhaps a tiny bit confused at his interest. That made two of them.
Chapter Three
“Did Grammy put the bubbles in the tub?” Sarah asked into the phone.
“Yeth,” Rose said, then went on to tell Sarah all about her bath. Rose was better at signing than with verbal articulation, but of course, over the phone, that wasn’t an option. Sarah tried to pick out the words she could understand and gave lots of “Wow” and “How fun” commentary. She had to remind herself not to be sad that she wasn’t missed. This was why she and Rose lived with Grammy and Pops—so Rose would have lots of love and nurturing. This call was proof of that success.
The conversation on the other end of the line suddenly stopped, as though the phone had been dropped. “Rose?” Sarah sat up a little on the bed. “Rosey?”
“She wants to show you her picture,” Sarah’s mom said into the phone a moment later, allowing Sarah to relax. “It’s pink and green and brown. Okay, now she’s back.”
“Oh, and it’s so pretty,” Sarah said after the hand-off and hearing Rose’s garbled explanation of the picture Sarah couldn’t see. “I love the pink.”
She lay back into the pillows and listened some more, ignoring the double ache in her chest—first, because she wasn’t there to see the picture in person, and second because she was having a good time. She felt a little guilty about both. In less than an hour, she’d meet Clint for the first time. That thought awakened the butterflies in her stomach, but she pushed them away; Rose was in the spotlight right now and Sarah didn’t want to miss a thing.
Rose dropped the phone twice more before Sarah’s mom said in the background that it was time to go. “Love you, sweet girl,” Sarah said into the phone.
“Luff, luff,” Rose said.
Sarah’s mom got back on the line and assured Sarah that everything was going well. “Don’t call tomorrow; you’re going to have a ridiculous phone bill next month, and she’s fine, really.”
“I won’t make any promises,” Sarah said. “But thank you for doing this, Mom. I really appreciate you guys.”
“It’s our pleasure; you know that. Are you having a good time?”
“It’s just been the conference so far, but I meet up with Clint for dinner in an hour, with Brylee and Clint’s friend too, of course.”
“Good,” Mom said. “You can tell us all about it when you get home. We’d better end this phone call before we have to get a payday loan to cover it.”
Sarah laughed, they said their goodbyes, and then she hung up, took a deep breath and put her phone—and that part of her life—on the bedside table. A minute later, she pulled the dark purple faux-wrap dress she’d wear to dinner from the closet, and her nerves rushed in as though she’d turned on a faucet. Clint. Thirty minutes. Dinner. Beach. Moonlight.
“Holy crap, what am I doing?”
* * *
Brylee showed up five minutes before they were supposed to leave the hotel—she’d gone out for drinks with the group that she’d collaborated reconciliation procedures with who were now her BFFs. The woman was a social genius. Sarah was putting the final details on her hair—for the sixth time—and wondered how on earth Brylee could get ready in five minutes. Brylee threw off her slacks and blouse, pulled a red sundress over her head, took her hair out of a bun and—bam—she was ready. Like Supergirl without a phone booth. Sarah was comfortable with her figure unless she spent much time with Brylee, who made size four women feel like fatties. Sarah was not a size four.
“Okay,” Brylee said, grinning widely. “Are you excited?”
“Yes,” Sarah said with a sharp nod and a smile she hoped matched Brylee’s. “I am so excited.”
Chapter Four
It started raining on the way to the restaurant, which was only half a block from the hotel. Brylee and Sarah kicked off their heels and carried them, making a run for it and finding safety in the foyer where a good laugh at the drama helped cover Sarah’s disappointment over the weather. There would be no walk on the beach tonight, apparently, but that was okay. They still had the rest of the weekend, and having a little less pressure this first night was probably a good thing. They ducked into the bathroom and fixed their hair. Well, Sarah fixed hers; Brylee didn’t need to, although she did apply a little more lip-gloss.
Clint and Mark stood when Sarah and Brylee got to the table a few minutes later. Clint gave Sarah a quick hug—no kiss. That was a good sign. But she’d hoped to feel some kind of tingle when they first touched, and she didn’t. The anticipation of this meeting must have mitigated whatever electricity she might have felt. Brylee and Mark shook hands.
When the chips and salsa came to the table, Clint pushed his salsa toward Sarah so they could share. The four of them talked about Clint and Mark’s delayed flight and how horrible it was spending eight hours in an airport. The conversation eventually moved on to the different break-out sessions they’d attended that day.
“You two were in the class on the new software together?” Clint asked after Sarah explained how she and Mark had met. Clint gave Mark a look Sarah didn’t understand.
“It was really good,” Sarah said while attempting to decipher the look. “I think it will make tabulating the reports so much smoother.”
“Oh, it will,” Clint said with a grin. “We’ve been using it since the first of the year—Seattle was the pilot office for the program.”
Sarah and Brylee both looked at Mark, who was intently dunking his chip in the salsa. Why had he attended the class if he didn’t need to learn the software?
“None of the other breakouts in that block interested me,” Mark said with a shrug.
“They didn’t interest you?” Brylee said, leaning forward slightly, her eyes wide with feigned surprise. “
Proper accounting of insufficient fund transactions and collection procedure doesn’t light your fire? Who are you?”
Mark leaned forward too, a teasing smile on his face. “Don’t tell my boss or my mother. It would break their hearts.”
They all laughed, and Sarah joined in half a beat after the others. Relax. Have Fun. She did not want to betray how out of her element she felt right now. Too bad she wasn’t a drinker, though now might be the perfect time to start. Surely she could relax better with a few shots of vodka in her. Then again, they might make her sick, and she still worried about the whole throwing-up-on-Clint scenario. Not worth the risk.
“What about tomorrow’s classes?” Clint asked. “Are there any that stand out to you guys? ’Cause if not, we could play hooky and hit the beach early.”
Sarah tensed and dipped another chip. Her boss had emphasized how essential it was for every employee to attend each block. He’d be following up with them next week and Sarah wasn’t sure she could lie about it.
“I thought tomorrow looked like a good lineup. Plus I’m moderating the partner panel after lunch,” Mark said. Sarah glanced up at him, relieved that he was supporting her silent position, and smiled her thanks. She didn’t know how, but she could tell he understood exactly what she meant with that smile. She was suddenly so glad that Brylee and Mark were here with her and Clint; she’d have never made this weekend work without them.
“Besides, our boss will be asking us for a detailed report,” Brylee said with a nod. “I bet he’ll have quizzes and everything.”
“Okay, okay,” Clint said, putting up his hands in surrender. “I withdraw the offer, but who’s up for parasailing after the conference tomorrow? It gets out at, what, two o’clock?”
“I’m totally up for parasailing,” Brylee said. “If the weather’s good.”
“Me, too,” Mark agreed.
Sarah was chewing, but she nodded and smiled. Clint smiled back; she hoped it was because she was endearingly cute, even with her mouth full.
Dinner was fantastic—shrimp tacos with mango salsa—and by the time the waiter came around with coffee, Sarah was feeling much more comfortable.
“So what’s on the agenda for the rest of the night?” Mark asked after the waiter took their checks—they’d each paid for their own meals tonight.
“Weren’t we going to catch the game?” Clint asked, turning to Mark. “You’re the guy who pointed out the sports bar at the hotel on our way over here.”
“I don’t know if the ladies wanted to listen to you swear all night, though.”
Game? Sarah didn’t know enough about sports to even know what type of sport was played this time of year. Baseball?
“The Trailblazers-Bulls game?” Brylee said, straightening up and leaning slightly forward. “They’re showing it here somewhere?”
“We just call it the Trailblazer game,” Clint said with a playful grin.
“Oh, the Bulls are going to wipe the floor with the Blazers tonight,” Brylee said, throwing down her napkin as though it were a gauntlet. Sarah kept her mouth shut so as not to betray her ignorance.
“No way.” Clint hit the table sharply with his palm. He took a final sip of his drink and stood, holding his hand out to Sarah once he was on his feet. “You up for it?”
“Sure,” she said, far more interested in spending time with him than in watching the game. But this was the kind of thing normal women did, right? Hang out in sports bars with their men? The thought made her cheeks burn. Clint wasn’t her man. Thank goodness no one could read her mind.
“Why are you blushing?” Brylee whispered a few seconds later as they headed toward the hotel.
“Nothing,” Sarah said, but worried she was blushing all over again. “Let’s go watch some basketball—it is basketball, right?”
Chapter Five
It was still raining when they left the restaurant for the sports bar, which was back at the hotel, and once again the girls took off their shoes and made a run for it. The bar was loud and smoky, and it got louder and smokier as the evening wore on. Sarah cheered when everyone else cheered and even ordered a fruity drink, though she only took tiny sips. Mark stayed in the booth with her for a while, explaining the game, while Brylee and Clint cheered with the crowd gathered in front of the large TV. Sarah told Mark several times that he could join the group—she felt bad dominating his time—but he said he didn’t mind and she appreciated his efforts to both educate her and not leave her alone at the table.
By the last few minutes of the fourth quarter, Sarah felt like she actually understood what was happening—her dad would be so proud. “Thanks for your help,” she said to Mark. They sat on opposite benches of the booth. “I hope it didn’t take away from your enjoying the game.”
“Made it even better,” he said, smiling over the rim of his drink. He did that thing again where he held her eyes a second longer than it seemed like he should. She felt herself blushing as she looked away. He wasn’t hitting on her, was he? She wasn’t experienced enough to know.
“And that’s the game,” Clint said when the final point had been scored, winning the game for the Trailblazers 104 to 99. He came back to the booth and slid into the bench, automatically draping his arm around Sarah’s shoulder. Like they were a couple. Like they watched games together at sports bars all the time. Sarah searched for that tingle again—the chemistry she’d been expecting to feel. But once again, her nerves seemed to take center stage.
Brylee slid into the booth next to Mark. “If the refs hadn’t been obviously drunk, it would have turned out completely different,” Brylee said, dunking a chip in the salsa.
“You are so full of it,” Clint said, loudly enough to make Sarah wonder how many beers he’d had. Five? Six? He and Brylee went on to argue about the game. Mark joined in a time or two, but he was the least determined of the three. Sarah ate more chips, fully aware of Clint’s arm still draped across her shoulders.
“What do you think?” Clint asked, turning to Sarah, his face only inches from hers. She could smell alcohol on his breath, so she faced forward, suddenly tense all over again. “Who do you think deserved to win that game?”
He started slowly trailing his fingers up and down her arm. How long had it been since a man had touched her like this? Tender. Flirty. “I think the Yankees deserved to win the pennant this year, no question,” she said.
Everyone laughed—thank goodness—and then Mark and Brylee began discussing a particular play while Clint leaned back against the seat, pulling Sarah with him. His hand was still rubbing Sarah’s shoulder, but as much as she wanted to enjoy it, she could only take note of her rising anxiety. With his other hand, he continued drinking his beer.
She tried to relax into him, and was halfway to convincing herself that she was enjoying the closeness, when she felt his fingers brush her hair away from her shoulder. A moment later she felt hot breath on her neck. Her entire body froze. Apparently he’d put down his beer.
She felt his lips on her skin a moment later. Rather than melting inside, she stiffened even more, and goose bumps broke out across her body. His lips felt hot. And wet. That should have turned her on, right? But it didn’t. It completely freaked her out. She wasn’t ready. This was their first evening together, and he wanted to make out in a bar? “I’m going to get some more salsa,” Brylee said, but she flashed Sarah a smile on her way out of the booth. Sarah didn’t return it.
Sarah glanced at Mark, but he was intently watching the TV, though she suspected he was ignoring them on purpose. She was on her own.
“Hey,” she said to Clint, unwrapping herself from him as carefully as possible and looking toward the end of the bench. He was blocking her from being able to get out of the booth. “We’ve got an early morning, don’t we?” His features were soft, his eyes glassy. He was so drunk. “Aren’t you tired?”
He scooted closer. She pulled away, but that simply cornered her against the side of the booth. She felt her heart rate increasing for
all the wrong reasons. She looked toward Mark again, needing help, and this time, she caught his eye.
“Hey, Clint,” Mark said, moving toward the end of his bench. “It is getting late.”
“The night’s young,” Clint said, smiling at Sarah, who pressed against the wall of the booth as much as she could.
“Clint,” Mark said again, some sharpness in his voice. Clint turned to look at him, annoyed. “Let the lady out of the booth.”
“She doesn’t want to get out,” Clint said, turning back to Sarah and putting his hand on her knee, smiling drunkenly.
“I really do,” she said, forcing a smile that she knew showed her discomfort and moving his hand from her knee. She lowered her voice a little in hopes that only Clint would hear it. “This is a little fast for me.”
“Fast?” Clint said. “We’ve been together all evening.”
A moment later, Mark’s hand appeared on Clint’s shoulder. “Come on, buddy,” he said. “You didn’t sleep any better than I did last night. We need to rest up for tomorrow.”
Clint protested a little, but Mark didn’t let go, and eventually Clint got out of the booth, which allowed Sarah to scoot out as well.
Once she was on her feet, Mark stepped in front of her so that he stood between her and Clint, though he wasn’t overt about it. “You okay?” he asked her quietly.
“I’m fine,” Sarah said, feeling embarrassed now that she was free. She didn’t like needing rescue. Yet, Mark had rescued her, or at least, he’d spared her from having to make a scene. “Thank you.”
“I’ll walk you to your room,” Clint said, pushing in front of Mark.
Mark grabbed Clint’s arm just above the elbow and pulled him back. “I think she’d rather find it on her own.”
Sarah understood what Mark didn’t say—Go!
“See you in the morning,” she said, smiling at them both. “I had a really nice evening. Thanks.”
A Timeless Romance Anthology: Spring Vacation Collection (A Timeless Romance Anthology) Page 2