He stopped, looked at her finger, and, without bothering to move her hand, crossed his arms over his wide chest. His mouth tugged at the corners.
She pulled her hand away before all that warm muscle surrounding her hand distracted her. Dammit. He really was attractive.
His brow creased. “Huh?”
Also, clueless.
“The speaker?” She sounded out each syllable and pointed up the staircase. “Or whatever you’ve rigged up there to wail and moan. Turn it off. The jig is up, Black. I’m not going anywhere.” Mirroring his stance, she crossed her arms over her breasts in a show of standing her ground.
Undeterred, he closed the door behind him and towered over her. She skated her gaze over massive shoulders, recalling the way they’d bunched beneath his T-shirt Wednesday night whenever he’d drawn back the pool cue. He scrubbed his jaw as if trying to decide what to do with her, and her eyes went to the forearms that had flexed whenever he’d slid the stick between the thumb and forefinger of one utterly masculine hand.
“I didn’t rig up anything.” He tugged at his flannel shirt. “I brought costumes. That’s it.”
Oh, yeah. Sure. And she should believe him why?
“So what did I hear earlier, then? The ghost of Essie Mae?” She wiggled her fingers for effect, even as an icy chill froze her spine. She forced herself to continue speaking despite the tightness in her throat. “Or maybe it was a trained mynah bird. I know what I heard. A voice. Distinctly saying the word ‘Go.’”
Marcus grinned and that same dimple delved into one of his stubbled cheeks. She tried to hate it. Failed. “Sure, sweetheart, whatever you say.” He sent her a wink, a devilish one, the same one he no doubt used to sear the panties off his dates, and stepped past her. “If that’s true, sounds like I’d better stick around and protect you.”
“Oh no. You’re not invited.” She wasn’t spending any more time with the man than she had to. Not after the crap he’d pulled tonight. He’d probably Saran Wrap the toilet seat next, or put shaving cream in her palm when she fell asleep. She grasped his bicep, intending to direct him to the front door and send him on his merry way. But once her hand curled around thick muscle, she left it there, his heat and hardness soaking into her palm. He cast her grip a sideways glance and raised an eyebrow.
Why, whenever he was this close, did he muddle her female senses? She rejected on principle the idea that a man could literally be a chick magnet, but here she was, being pulled in by the inexplicable and, yeah, magnetic force.
Lily broke their connection by letting him go. She dusted her hand on her pants for good measure. “I’ll be fine,” she said primly. “You can go.”
The cocky glint in his eyes flickered, and his voice dropped to a soft rumble. “You sure, Lil? You look a little shaken.” He lifted the back of his knuckles to her cheek.
She swatted his hand away. “No thanks to you.” As long as he thought she was scared and not melting into a lust-puddle, they’d be all good. She pointed at the door. “Out.”
He snorted, clearly unfazed. “As owner of the Hawaii trip, I’m entitled to personally witness your attempt to win it, don’t you think?”
She opened her mouth to argue.
“Don’t answer that.” He turned his back on her and ambled into the living room as if he had nothing better to do tonight than be a burr up her ass.
Propping his hands on his hips, he surveyed her setup. “What do you have to eat around here?”
…
Fifteen minutes later, Marcus lounged on the air mattress while Lily perched on the opposite end, watching him warily.
She’d packed enough food to host a small dinner party. Which was awesome. It’d been hours since he’d eaten, and he was starving. It was an impressive spread. Sushi, brie, grapes, cherry cheesecake…
“Are those Corn Nuts?” He reached for the bag.
She clutched the unopened snack to her chest. “Stop eating my food.” She was adorable. Especially with that little line marring her brow.
Lily sat ramrod straight, her legs curled beneath her. Every so often, she’d cast an uneasy glance to the staircase behind him.
He suppressed another smile. She was a convincing actress, he’d give her that. If he wasn’t sure she was trying to get him back for scaring her outside, he might buy into the whole the-voice-is-coming-from-inside-the-house malarkey.
“May I have a glass of wine?” he asked with exaggerated patience.
She snapped her attention from the stairs to his face, her reddish-blond eyebrows slamming over her nose. “No.”
“What kind of barbarian allows a man to eat brie without a wine chaser?”
His teasing worked. Lily smiled. Okay, not really smiled, but the corner of her lips twitched. Progress, considering a moment ago she’d been about to dropkick him where he stood. She filled a plastic cup halfway with red wine and handed it over, filling one for herself while she was at it. They sipped in silence.
“This is good,” he told her.
She gave him a slow blink. “You like wine?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“You strike me as a beer-from-the-can kind of guy.”
“I am.”
She rolled her eyes and sipped her wine once more before changing the subject. “I didn’t see your car out there. How’d you get here, anyway?”
“Clive.”
She blinked. “Well, how do you plan on getting home?”
He quirked his mouth and laid a pile of innuendo at her feet. “I thought you’d give me a ride.”
She opened and closed her mouth, then frowned. “Well, I think it’s stupid that you had Clive drive you here like you two were on some high-school mission.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t want to get my car dirty.”
She curled her lip like Billy Idol, which should have been a turnoff but was actually kind of cute. “Are you serious?”
“It’s white. I just washed it.”
Why that infuriated her, he had no idea. Everything about him seemed to infuriate her. Sad, really, considering everything she did only made him want her a little bit more. Ah, the cruel irony.
“Well, it doesn’t change the bet.” She reached for her phone. “Six hours to go.”
Six hours. How the hell was he going to get her to lose now that she’d unmasked him? Maybe he could annoy her into giving up. His presence alone seemed enough to send her running for her car again.
“Since you insist on stealing Hawaii from me”—he paused to appreciate her flared nostrils—“you really should throw me a bone for the annual design dinner.”
She blinked. “Is that a sex joke?”
“What?” He thought back to what he’d said and chuckled. “No. That’s funny, though.”
Lily didn’t smile.
“What would it hurt if you went with me?” he asked. “You go every year anyway. You’re obviously not bringing Andrew.”
Hurt briefly crossed her features. “How do you know?”
“Are you?” The answer had better be no. If Marcus ever saw that dick again, he’d flatten him.
She examined her nails. “No.” She tossed her wavy strawberry hair and met his eyes. “Who are you bringing? Barbie or Bambi?”
Ah. Back on the clock. “Neither,” he answered truthfully.
“Why do you want to take me, anyway? It’s your big night. The last thing you need is me butting in while you’re bragging about how wonderful you are.”
The barb bounced off him. He’d like to take her because it’d be nice to share the spotlight with someone who knew what she was talking about. Schmoozing with his peers wasn’t on the very short list of things he was good at. “Believe me, after my speech—” Even the word made him start to sweat. He tugged his flannel off of his arms before grumbling, “I’ll gladly hide behind you.”
Lily watched him like she was working something out in her head. Crap. That head tilt made him nervous. He didn’t like being carefully examined by highly i
ntelligent women.
“Marcus Black,” she finally said, her voice edged in mock sympathy.
He leaned away from her as if that might help him escape whatever she might say next.
She opened her mouth, her pretty lips bowing into a smile. “Are you…nervous?”
Chapter 6
Lily had intended to tease him with that question, but Marcus didn’t laugh it off or shoot another insult in her direction. Instead, he reached for her iPad and tapped the screen.
She watched his head-in-the-sand reaction with surprise. There was simply no way this confident, talented, alluring man was battling a case of nerves over an acceptance speech. All he had to do was say “thank you” and talk for a few minutes about how he became retail design’s golden boy. She’d have thought he’d lap up that kind of centered attention like a fat cat to cream. She couldn’t quite wrap her head around the idea of him insecure about addressing his colleagues. Addressing anyone.
Maybe his worry was due to lack of preparedness. “Do you have your speech memorized?”
He looked up from the tablet, eyebrows drawn, clearly offended. “Of course.”
“Well, let’s hear it.” Practicing aloud always helped her before a big presentation.
The corners of his mouth turned down for a second. He dropped the iPad on the mattress between them and licked his lips.
She thought he was going to turn her down until he said, “Okay. Fine.” He rolled his shoulders, cracked his knuckles, and wiped his brow.
“It’s a speech, Marcus. You’re not signaling me to throw a fastball.”
“I’m getting to it,” he grumbled, scratching the back of his neck. He scrubbed his chin and cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of Cameron Design and my fellow colleagues, I’d like to—” He stopped. “What?”
“You’re frowning.”
His brow marred. “No, I’m not.”
“Are to.” She made a peace sign and separated where his eyebrows met over the center of his nose. The moment the pads of her fingers touched his skin, the air changed. She became aware of the heat rolling off him and seeping through her fingertips, of his whiskey-colored gaze meeting her wide-eyed stare. Of the supercharged air between them zapping like a live electric wire.
She snatched her hand away, hoping her shaking voice wouldn’t clue him in to her now-stuttering heart. “And speak slower. It might sound odd to your ears, but speaking calmly will put your audience at ease.” She intentionally slowed and softened her words. “And you’ll be more relaxed, too.”
She waited for him to argue or make fun, but he only blinked and watched her in the yellowish lantern light. “Thanks. That’s helpful.”
Being the recipient of his gratitude was new territory. She shook off the urge to blush…and decided to lighten the mood with a subject change. “What are you worried about, anyway? We’re not going anywhere if we don’t find my car keys.”
But the mention of their predicament made the smile on her face turn sickly. She had searched the bedding and bags surrounding them while Marcus chowed down on her food, but she’d found no sign of her missing keychain. It was like it had vanished into thin air.
“Just picture the audience in their underwear,” she said as she riffled again through her purse she’d hurriedly retrieved from outside.
“Will you be in the audience, Lil?” She snapped her head up to find Marcus leaning an elbow on one knee, a wry and damn sexy smile on his face. “Because if you’re in your underwear, I don’t think that’s going to help me focus on my speech.”
Her pulse raced against her throat and she had to work extra hard to be offended. “I mean…” She had to shut her eyes to recalibrate her brain. “What I meant was it’s easier to give a speech if you focus on talking to the people you know. Joanie or Clive…or me.” She returned to digging through her bag, reconsidering. “Or not me. Someone you like.”
“I like you.”
She twisted her lips to one side in a show of doubt.
“What?” He gave her a bemused smile. “I do.”
“Oh, okay.” She tossed her handbag aside. “That explains the plastic spiders you’ve been hiding in my desk since we made this bet. Let’s see, one in my paperclips, one on top of my monitor…one on the glass of my scanner.”
“I heard you scream from the other side of the building.” He grinned, still inordinately pleased with himself.
She shook her head. Always the prankster, he was a lot like having a bratty brother around. He dragged a hand through his cropped hair and chuckled, the flash of his white teeth offsetting the dark shadow of his jaw. Heat flushed her neck.
Maybe “brother” was a poor choice of word.
“I’m not exactly on your top-ten list, either,” he mumbled, leaning back on his forearms. The air-filled bed shifted, and Lily steadied herself with her hands. “Can’t even get you to act like my date at a company dinner without adding it to the stakes of a bet.”
Despite the easy smile on his face, he sounded almost hurt.
“I— It’s not that.” What was his angle, anyway? Why would he care if the stuffy redhead from work turned him down? His black book was likely thicker than both testaments of the King James Bible. “You’re the one who made it part of the bet rather than ask me outright.”
He pushed himself up and studied her intently. For a half second, she forgot to breathe. She wasn’t sure what gave him the sudden allure. The casual way he wore his hair, the mischievous spark in his dark eyes, or the way the lantern lit his face, making him look like a boy and a man at the same time.
“I asked you out before. You said you didn’t date your coworkers.”
True. “I don’t…but that was before…before I knew you.”
He watched her for a few long, sweaty seconds.
She tried not to fidget.
“Would you have said yes if I had asked you?”
“You mean if you asked…” She licked her dry lips. “Just…asked?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
He blew out a laugh.
“I respect our working relationship too much to risk it,” she blurted. She did respect him, but that wasn’t the full truth. The truth was she’d never considered that Marcus liked her, let alone liked her liked her. Sure, he’d asked her out when she’d first started working for Joanie and Clive, but she knew a player when she saw one. He’d been all cocky confidence and smooth charm…and yeah, drop-dead gorgeous. But she’d made the mistake before of being bagged by the guy at work who dated any and every female with two legs. And she’d been the brunt of the workplace rumors that’d come with the relationship. One look at Marcus and she knew that the dark-haired, sexy beast asked out every girl within earshot. Lily had guessed they all said yes. Every last one of them.
She chewed on the side of her lip, wondering if she’d made too many assumptions about him. Assumptions that had stuck despite evidence that refuted them. Like the fact that he hung out with Clive more than a girlfriend, or the fact that the women he’d brought to the RSD dinners didn’t seem like more than casual acquaintances. Huh. She hadn’t really thought about that before.
“You respect me. That’s a new one.” Marcus’s downturned eyes threw her off. Had she ever seen this man with anything less than 110 percent confidence?
“You don’t need me to get through the dinner anyway,” she said, almost laughing aloud at the idea of him “needing” her for anything at all. The man was talent squared. “Everyone attending knows you’re ten times the designer they are.” That was the truth, and so was the next thing she said. “And you’re twenty times the designer I am on my best day.”
Chapter 7
Marcus waited for the punch line, but nothing came.
Lily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She had cute ears.
“Like on the London store,” she continued. “I sketched the interior of that building at least eighteen times, and I never once thought to position the POS s
tations throughout the store.”
He chuffed. “Yeah, innovative.”
“Exactly. It was.” She punctuated his knee with one finger.
The third time she’d touched him tonight. Interesting.
“I was being sarcastic.” Feeling uncharacteristically humble, he added, “Clive helped.”
She shook her head. “With the final layout. But he argued for the traditional placement of the cash registers lined up near the exit. You were the one who insisted that the customer would be more likely to make impulse purchases if he or she didn’t have to traipse to the front of the store to check out.”
He vaguely recalled the conversation she referenced. The discussion with Clive hadn’t been a heated one, and not one Lily should remember so vividly. Which meant she’d been paying attention to him, and he hadn’t even known. How about that? And here he thought all they had in common was that they disagreed on everything.
“You sound like you agree,” he said, intrigued by the new idea of them on the same side of an argument.
“I do.” She looked at her hands like she was embarrassed. Or maybe she wasn’t sure how to handle them on even ground. He could relate. Compliments weren’t their usual fare.
“While I praise you on your good taste,” he said, “I can’t take all the credit. The London account was won in the boardroom.” He could picture her standing there, her royal blue suit skimming over her curves, her hair pinned at the back of her head. She’d addressed Reginald with confidence, while maintaining a smile and including him in the presentation rather than talking at him. “You were amazing in there, Lil.”
“Oh. Um, thanks.” She tipped her chin and blinked, her long, sloping lashes hiding her light blue eyes ever so briefly. “That’s nice.”
“It’s true.”
Her eyes averted to his mouth, and she licked those soft pink lips. The look she pinned him with next absolutely stunned him. He took in her pursed lips, upturned chin, the way she was leaning toward him the slightest bit… He couldn’t believe it.
Lily McIntire wanted him to kiss her.
If You Dare (Entangled Flaunt) Page 4