“I’m running away,” she said slowly, “because I have somewhere to be.”
When he gave her a blank look, she added, “And so do you.”
He did? “I do?”
She nodded and shoved aside his arm so she could sit up. He watched with some fascination as she leapt out of bed and started dressing, all the while clinging to the towel as if he hadn’t spent the night exploring every last curve of that body.
“We’re supposed to meet Connie and Robbie to pick out the band, remember?” She glanced at him over her shoulder as she clasped her bra.
He groaned and fell back onto the bed.
“I guess that’s a no.”
He heard the laughter in her voice and it was enchanting—even if it was at his expense.
He rolled over once more. “Oh, come on, we can be a little late, right?”
When she didn’t answer, apparently too focused on refastening her necklace, he got out of bed and came up behind her. He took over the task of fastening the necklace. She lifted her hair out of the way and he took the opportunity to kiss the bare nape of her neck. When she bit her lip and held her breath, he saw it all in the mirror.
She was still only clad in her bra and panties and he slipped his arms around her waist. “Come on. We’ll be quick, I promise.”
He watched with heady delight as her eyes darkened and her tongue flicked out to lick her lips. She was turned on, he knew her well enough to see the signs. He let his fingers trail over her rounded stomach and down to the edge of her underwear.
He’d almost breached the elastic when she gave a little start and pulled away from him. Only when she was several feet away did she turn back, her eyes narrowed and her hands on her hips. “Oh, you’re dangerous.”
He loved the teasing note in her voice almost as much as the sexy edge. He would bet all the money he had that he was one of a very privileged few who’d ever heard Elizabeth’s bedroom voice and it was sexy as hell.
“Admit it, you’re tempted.” He took one step toward her and when she didn’t back away, he kept moving, ready to pounce.
“I am tempted,” she said readily enough. The words were music to his ears. “But I’m also not willing to face my sister’s wrath if we’re late.”
He rolled his eyes, coming to a stop in front of her. “Let me handle Connie.”
A little smile played at the corner of her lips and he couldn’t look away. “It wouldn’t just be Connie who’s put out,” she added. “The film crew is supposed to be there. This is one our fun-foursome dates, remember?”
She started to laugh and he joined her, even though he’d lost the battle and knew it. “Fun Foursome Dates” had been the title of Connie’s group email to Robbie and them detailing the filming agenda over the next couple of weeks.
“Yes, because nothing says fun like faking an engagement in front of a camera crew,” he said.
Elizabeth shrugged. “At least today we get to listen to bands play all morning. That’s better than picking out flowers.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Although not as fun as picking out the cake.”
He closed the distance between them, unable to stop himself from pulling her into his arms. He couldn’t help it—he was honestly overcome with admiration. Out of all of them, this had to be hardest on her, but she was putting on her game face and making the best of it. If she could be a trooper, he could surely make an effort. Not for Connie’s sake, obviously, but to make it that much easier on Elizabeth.
“Fine,” he said with a melodramatic sigh. “We’ll put sex on hold for now. But later….”
She shook her head with a chiding tsking sound that had him daydreaming about all kinds of sexy teacher role play fantasies. “You’re trouble.”
He leaned over and lowered his voice. “That’s what makes me such a great rebound. Or so I’ve heard.”
He instantly regretted the words when he saw some of the amusement slip from her face. Shit. He hadn’t meant it to sound like he did this every day of the week. Granted, he had a pretty liberal past in the sex department, but he didn’t just hop into bed with every weepy woman at his bar.
But when she spoke, it seemed his fears were baseless. “That’s all this is, right?” she asked, a hint of anxiety in her voice and stiffening her posture. “It’s just a rebound for me and, well, I don’t know what it is for you.”
Her forehead creased in concern at that—as if it was imperative to put a label on this thing from every angle.
“You’re my hot, sexy, single lady friend,” he said, lowering himself a bit so he could meet her at eye level. When his teasing words didn’t ease the concern etched on her face, he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “Hey, where’d the carefree, rebellious chick from last night go?”
He got a half smile in response. “She’s an aberration, I’m afraid.” She opened her mouth as if to say more but shut it again quickly. He had a pretty good idea what she was thinking though—last night was out of the norm for her. She didn’t make a habit of sleeping with random men who had no interest in a commitment.
“We’re just having fun,” he said, pulling her against his chest and wrapping his arms around her, hoping to ease whatever feelings of shame or regret she was experiencing. “There’s nothing to feel bad about. No guilt or fear,” he added. “We’re two consenting adults who happen to have amazing chemistry.”
He felt her nod against his chest and some of his own tension eased a bit. He wasn’t ready to let go of this yet. The realization struck him upside the head with all the subtly of a sledgehammer. He’d known it the night before and it was still true—one night was not enough with this woman.
“We’ll have as much fun as we can handle until the wedding,” he heard himself say, “and then we’ll call it quits. We’ll go our own way.”
She stiffened in his arms and he pulled back to see her face. To his relief she looked thoughtful rather than hurt. Then she nodded decisively. “Yeah, that works.”
The dopey grin was back with a vengeance but he couldn’t help it. That gave him almost two full months to have his way with this woman….and when it was all over, she’d be well on her way to being completely over her asshole of an ex and he would be able to move on with his life, fantasies of a certain sexy math teacher a thing of his past.
* * *
Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek so hard it hurt—but at least she wasn’t laughing. She kept her eyes firmly focused on the lead singer, who was currently crooning a Bryan Adams song into the microphone directly in front of them, his eyes half closed in blissful abandon.
“Seriously,” Mark whispered in her ear. “Someone should tell him that his wig is crooked.”
That did it. Elizabeth let out little snort before slapping a hand over her mouth, willing herself to focus on anything other than the lead singer, with his fake eighties mane and overly earnest rendition of “I Do It for You.”
The back of her chair got a kick from Connie. Again. This was the third band and each one was worse than the last. Band auditions would have been an act of torture if Mark hadn’t been there to provide a constant narrative in her ear. Thanks to him egging her on, she was going to get a scolding from her sister at the next break.
Somehow that thought only made the urge to laugh even worse and she hid it behind a cough. Making her excuses that she had to go to the bathroom, she slipped out of her seat and headed past the filming crew, who looked like they were stuck in a nightmare.
She’d reached the back hallway of the auditorium they’d rented for rehearsals and had almost made it to the bathroom when a hand caught her arm.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Mark whirled her around, trapping her between himself and the wall.
She caught one look at the devilish amusement written all over his and lost it, laughing so hard she fell against his chest, where she could hear his low laughter rumbling.
“This is….awful,” she managed to get out.
“My ears
are bleeding,” he wheezed.
The sound of the door opening behind them had them both freezing mid-laugh. “We’ve been caught,” Mark whispered. Elizabeth stood on tiptoe and snuck a peek over his shoulder. “Uh oh. It’s the producer.”
The producer was walking their way with a knowing smile. “Needed a little air?” He sounded like he was in on a joke and she shared a quick look with Mark. Did he know they’d come out here to laugh or did he think they’d snuck out for another makeout session? Either way, he was bearing down on them, although at least there were no cameramen in tow.
“It’s hot in there isn’t it?” Mark asked, throwing an arm around Elizabeth and turning to the producer with a guileless grin.
The producer made a noncommittal noise of agreement. When he reached them, he tilted his head as if to study them better. Elizabeth shifted nervously beneath Mark’s arm. This producer seemed to hear and see everything—too much.
“I noticed you two were awfully quiet earlier.” The statement sat there for a second. It wasn’t a question and even if it was, there would be no denying it. Before auditions began, the producer cornered all four of them in front of a camera and asked about musical preferences and what they were looking for in a band.
Connie, of course, had opinions. Lots of opinions, in fact, on the subject of wedding bands so they’d let her do the majority of the talking. But the producer, it seemed, expected their input.
“It’s a big part of the reception,” he continued. “A band sets the tone for the whole night, don’t you think? Surely you must have some thoughts on what kind of music is played.”
Elizabeth glanced up at Mark, waiting for him to respond. He always did. He’d become the unofficial spokesperson for team Elizabeth-and-Mark.
“We’ll know our band when we hear it,” Mark said. Leaning in as if letting the producer in on a secret, he added, “Sorry to say, none of the bands we’ve heard so far have made the cut.”
The producer laughed a bit at the inside joke but he didn’t let up. “But tell me, is there a song in particular you want to hear at your wedding?” To Elizabeth’s horror, he turned to face her directly. “Don’t you two have a special song? Surely after being together all these years, there must be one song that sticks out.”
Elizabeth froze. Their song? Instantly her brain went to her and Jason. Had they had a song? No. Absolutely nothing came to mind. Jason wasn’t into music. Her mind scrambled to think of something romantic, something meaningful.
Then, without warning, her traitorous memory called up a drunken but dazzlingly clear memory from that night. She was singing along to the jukebox—loudly—and Mark was watching her with a sweet smile that said ‘you’re drunk and annoying, but you’re cute.’
She felt Mark shift beside her at her silence, he was going to save the day, again. But before he could intervene, the song title came blurting out of her mouth. The song she’d been singing that night. “Purple Rain.”
Mark stiffened at her side and she knew without a doubt that he was remembering that moment as well—and was most likely struggling not to burst out laughing at her.
The producer blinked a couple of times at the admission. “Prince, huh?” His sudden, beaming smile made her wary. She was suddenly a mouse trapped in a corner by a stalking cat. “There’s got to be a story there,” he prompted.
She was about to say ‘no, no story, we both just like prince,’ but Mark beat her to it.
“Oh, there is,” he said with far more enthusiasm than it warranted.
She glanced over and saw him looking down at her, his eyes filled with laughter. “Tell him, sweetheart.”
Oh, you bastard. She could see the challenge in his eyes, clear as day. He didn’t think she’d do it. A jolt of adrenaline coursed through her. She’d never been much of a liar…but then again, she’d never really tried.
She did her best to feign innocent concern. “Are you sure you want me to tell this story?” A flicker of surprise crossed his face but she turned back to the producer and leaned in, as if letting him in on a secret. “He never lets me tell this story to our friends.”
That was enough to to get the producer’s full interest.
Nervous excitement made her giddy but she forced herself to focus. What had Mark told everyone? “Mark told you how we met, right? You know, the skiing incident?”
The producer nodded quickly—Mark’s retelling of that fictional meeting had been a hit. It had left everyone laughing at Elizabeth’s drug-addled state and her desire to see her handsome doctor naked. Time for payback.
“I’ve always been a big Prince fan,” she started slowly, aware of Mark’s eyes narrowing in on her, no doubt wondering where this was going.
“I guess I must have said something to that effect when I was doped up.” She gave a little shrug as if to say ‘high on drugs, what are you gonna do?’ The producer nodded as if he had experienced this sort of thing on a regular basis.
“Apparently I told Mark all about my love of Prince that night. So the next day, when my sister and Robbie were preparing to take me home—“ that had been another detail she remembered from Mark’s ludicrous story—“Connie was pushing my wheelchair toward the exit of the hospital.”
Elizabeth let her eyes unfocus, hoping she looked like she was lost in a distant, dreamy memory. “There he was in the doorway, blocking my exit, his arms filled with roses from the hospital’s gift store.”
She let her eyes drift back to the producer, who was waiting for her to continue with an eagerness that was flattering. She didn’t trust herself to glance up at Mark’s reaction….especially not during the next part.
“He blocked the exit so I couldn’t leave and then he started to sing ‘Purple Rain’.”
Mark made a choking noise beside her but she and the producer ignored him. “After he sang the first verse and the chorus, he handed me the roses and asked me if I’d go out on a date with him.”
The producer blinked. “That’s an incredible story.”
“It really is,” Mark murmured into her ear. Elizabeth pretended not to hear him. She wasn’t quite done.
“I knew then and there that I would marry this man someday.” She slipped an arm around his waist and cuddled up against his side. “I mean, any man who would serenade me with ‘Purple Rain’ in public…well, he’s a keeper, am I right?”
The producer quickly agreed. “We need to get that story on camera.” That apparently reminded him that he was still at work because he made his excuses and headed back to the auditions, leaving Elizabeth alone with Mark.
When she looked up she found the Mark was gazing down at her with something close to admiration in his eyes. It was hot as hell.
Not letting herself think about the auditions or Connie or anything else, for that matter, she followed her instincts and grabbed him by the hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
* * *
Mark leaned over and grabbed the pint of ice cream out of Elizabeth’s hands so he could have a bite of the dessert she was hogging. “You know what we’re doing, right?”
Elizabeth turned to him. “We’re eating ice cream. Naked. In bed.” She waved her spoon in the air. “Why have I never done this before? I should always be eating ice cream in bed with hot men.”
The hot men comment had him grinning like a fool. “True, we’re eating ice cream in bed, but that’s not what I meant.” He waited a beat until she was once again looking at him. “We’re playing hooky.”
Elizabeth gave a little gasp and he watched as the realization dawned. “I am playing hooky. On my sister!”
She fell back against the pillows in a fit of giggles that would have been adorable if she didn’t look so damn sexy, barely covered by a sheet, hair tousled from an afternoon of lovemaking….and dessert eating.
He set the ice cream to the side and fell back beside her. “Do you think they’re still there listening to awful bands?”
Elizabeth groaned in misery. “I hope not, for their sak
e. But yeah, probably. Connie had booked an audition with just about every band in a thousand-mile radius.”
He turned onto his side, propping his head on his fist so he could look down at her. “How much do you want to bet that the producer is having each and every one try their hand at ‘Purple Rain’?”
Her head tipped back against the pillow as she let out a loud laugh that did funny things to his stomach; it gave him that flip flopping feeling like he was on a roller coaster. “I can’t believe he bought your story,” he said.
Elizabeth grinned over at him, self-satisfaction written all over her face. “He did, didn’t he? He ate it up.”
Mark gave a snort of disgust but Elizabeth poked him in the side. “Why is it so hard to believe? I mean, you’ve firmly established yourself in his eyes as the world’s biggest romantic….”
“Because I’m an incredible actor,” he added.
She rolled her eyes. “You’ve definitely managed to convince him and the entire crew that you’re head over heels in love with me.” She shrugged as if the rest was inevitable. “Why wouldn’t they believe that you’d serenade me with a Prince song?”
He shifted so he was leaning over her, he couldn’t seem to be in the same bed with this woman without touching her. She was just so damn touchable. And kissable. And loveable.
No, not loveable—that was the sex endorphins talking, aided by the sugar rush, no doubt.
She was watching him expectantly, waiting for an answer. Why wouldn’t he serenade her a Prince song? Hell, any man would make of fool of himself if it meant making her smile.
“You’re right, it’s completely reasonable that I would sing a Prince song to you in my place of work in front of your sister and Robbie and an emergency room filled with bloody patients, I imagine.”
Elizabeth started to laugh and he was almost distracted once again by the magical sound.
“But ‘Purple Rain’?” he continued, his voice rising in disbelief.
She crossed her arms over her sheet-covered chest and gave him a mock scowl. “What’s wrong with ‘Purple Rain’? I love that song.”
The Morning After: Starting from Zero Box Set Page 26