DANE SINCLAIR
Marissa's teasing had a weird effect on him. He cursed the threatening hard-on. Maybe it was being too near her half-naked body or the fact they'd gotten out of the hotel without becoming barbecue. Or maybe the desire ripping through him was the result of not being with a woman in quite a long time.
But he wanted Marissa Vanderson.
More than he'd ever wanted any woman.
"Oh, Romea, Romea, wherefore art thou?" cried a shaky female voice. "Poor, poor precious puppy. I loved you so."
A woman trudged down the row of parked cars, her hand held dramatically against her brow. She wore a pink chiffon nightgown and slippers with puffy balls of pink fuzz. Her face was heavily made up and she looked about hundred years old. Dane thought she resembled Gloria Swanson in Sunset Lane.
Wrapped up in her display of emotion, the woman didn't see them. She paused, and to Dane's surprise, splayed herself on the Mercedes' trunk. "Romea!" she cried in a theatrical voice.
The mutt barked and tried to leap off Marissa's lap.
The woman's head slowly rose. "Is that you, sweetie? Or do I hear you talking to me from heaven?"
"Oh brother," muttered Dane. Then he called out, "Hey, lady, is this your dog?"
She dragged herself off the trunk and peered around the car. "Romea?"
"Yip! Yip! Yip!"
"Romea!"
The woman nearly tripped on her chiffon in an effort to reunite with Romea. "My teeny tiny precious doggy-poo!" she cried, lifting the ball of fluff and clasping it to her rather large and heaving bosom.
"Oh, thank you, kind and gentle sir, for rescuing my Romea." Dark, painted-on brows rose invitingly and the woman fluttered long fake lashes at Dane. He jerked a thumb toward Marissa. "She saved precious doggy-poo, Mrs.—"
"Miss Lenetta Devereaux," she said. "I've never been married." The lashes fluttered again. "But I'd consider it if I had a hunk of a man like you."
He backed up a step in case she decided to drop the dog and grab him. Fortunately, Lenetta turned to Marissa. "My dear, I can't thank you enough. Romea means the world to me."
"You're welcome," said Marissa. "She's such a sweetie."
Dane felt a little safer since Lenetta's attentions had been diverted by disgusting doggie kisses. "Why did you call her Romea?"
Lenetta lifted a brow. "Because she's a girl, of course."
***|***|***
DANE SINCLAIR
"BRENT, I'M STANDING barefoot in my boxer shorts at a payphone. Yes, there are still payphones. No, it's not the 1980s. Damn it, stop laughing!"
Marissa leaned against the brick wall and sipped on a cool confection known as an Icee. The simple drink reminded her of all the things she hadn't been able to do—all the experiences that awaited her.
Many of the hotel's guests had wandered across the street to the convenience store. Earlier, hotel personnel filtered through the crowds reassuring everyone that their rooms would be comped and transportation would be provided to another hotel.
The night sky gave way to morning splendor: purples, oranges, yellows, and other brilliant hues left Marissa breathless. She glanced at Dane's stern expression. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he explained the situation to his friend. Dane had already attempted to call his brother, but the line had been busy.
"Just come get us!" Dane slammed the receiver so hard the phone cubicle shook. "My friend will be here any minute."
The nearest hotel was only a few blocks from the convenience store, but Dane seemed reluctant to go to it. She wondered if he'd used that hotel for assignations.
The thought of Dane enticing a woman to a hotel for a sexual encounter weakened her knees. At the same time, jealousy pricked her. Why would he make love to other women and not to her? Disappointment stabbed her like hot little knives.
"Why didn't you bring your car?" To her surprise, her question sounded like an accusation.
"My brother gave me a ride to the club last night. Everything okay, princess?"
"Why wouldn't it be?" She sipped the Icee and avoided Dane's quizzical gaze.
"We still have to meet Tuesday. It's already six-thirty."
"We'll go to my apartment, shower, and get dressed." He looked at her wrinkled and smoke-smudged T-shirt. "Where did you get that? You didn't have any luggage."
"It was in my purse."
"Another impulse buy?"
"Yes." She slurped the last bit of the drink and tossed it in the trash bin next to her. "Is your friend married?"
"No."
"What does he look like?"
"He's a troll. Long hair, bad teeth, bushy eyebrows, big ears. Has a hump, too. Walks with a limp and spits when he talks."
"Oh, my." She knew Dane was teasing, although his frown indicated he was less than pleased with her questions. "Where did you meet him? Under a bridge?"
"He works with me at the TeenCenter. He's a counselor."
"Are you a counselor?"
"I'm the director of the sports programs."
"Oh." She'd pursue those tidbits later. She was too fascinated with Dane's thunderous expression and clipped speech. Whatever was the matter with him? If he didn't want her, why not approach someone who might agree to be a temporary bed partner? "Muscular, like you? What color are his eyes? Is he tall?"
"You planning on having his children?"
She considered it. The idea of a husband and children delighted her. "Maybe."
"I knew it!" exploded Dane. "You're thinking about having sex with him, aren't you?"
"If he'll consent." She played with the strap of her purse. "I-I don't suppose you'd ask him for me, would you?"
"You're not sleeping with him."
"I'm paying you to help me with the list. You said you wouldn't participate in the one-night stand. Don't you trust your friend to show me a good time?"
Dane crossed his arms, his face a mask of anger. "You're paying me to be your pimp, is that it?"
Hurt speared her. He thought she was behaving like a—a whore? Was that what he believed about her? She wanted to experience physical love, like the kind she'd read about in the romance novels Geoffrey had smuggled to her. Her parents allowed educational material and the occasional entertainment.
Marissa was tired of being told what to watch, what to believe, what to do. Is it so wrong to want physical pleasure?
She swiped at the tears welling in her eyes. "If you are uncomfortable with our agreement, you can terminate it at any time. Right now, if you like."