MARISSA VANDERSON
"I'm only twenty-eight," muttered Dane.
Marissa jabbed him with her elbow. "Look, Janey. See the lines around his eyes? The graying hair? Soon, his gut will start to sag. His muscles will turn to mush. He'll go bald."
"Eeeew."
Marissa thought the tiny blood vessel pulsing in Dane's forehead was going to explode, but she pressed on. He couldn't know the fragility of a young girl's self-esteem. Better that Janey walked away from him than face his rejection. "You'll be in the prime of your life. Do you really want to take care of a doddering old man?"
"No." Janey swiped her tear-streaked face. "He's so nice to me. He treats me with respect. He's good-lookin' right now."
Marissa silently agreed. "It's not really fair, though. How do you think he'll feel walking around with a gorgeous young woman? Ten years is a whole, entire decade. He'll watch you grow more beautiful as he gets older, grayer...fatter."
"F-fatter?" Janey looked at Dane with alarm. "I-I wouldn't want to hurt him."
"It's up to you," said Marissa. "You can let him go now or be the source of his greatest sorrow in his golden years."
Janey examined Dane with a scrunched-up expression. The girl was obviously giving him a mental makeover. She must have imagined a really old, really gray, really fat Dane because she looked horrified.
She stood, gathered the afghan around her shoulders, and walked to Dane. "I'm sorry, but I like you too much to hurt you." She offered her hand. "Can we just be friends?"
"Yes," said Dane, shaking Janey's hand. "I'll have to live with admiring you from afar."
"I'll call Tommy for a ride." She bit her lip. "He's the one who let me in. Said you gave him a key in case he needed a place to crash. I'm glad you trust him, Mr. S. It means a lot to him. Just so you know, he thought I was making you a surprise dinner. He'd be really mad if he found out—well, you know."
"It's our little secret," said Dane. "I suppose your mother thinks you're someplace else?"
Janey blushed. "That I'm staying over at a friend's. Are you going to rat me out, Mr. S?"
"No. But if you ever pull another stunt like this one, I'll rat you out—big time."
"The pain of your rejection is making him grumpy," interrupted Marissa. She wished he'd stop frowning and acting so imposing. He was going to ruin her pining-after-Janey scenario. "Why don't you call Tommy, then get dressed?"
Janey turned to face Marissa. "You know, you're not so bad. Maybe if you don't mind that Mr. S is gettin' old and all—well, you could be his girlfriend."
Marissa pretended to ponder the possibility. "I'll have to think about it."
Janey went into the bathroom to dress. Dane put on some jeans and offered a pair of soccer shorts to Marissa. She tucked her T-shirt inside them and knotted the drawstring a few times.
Tommy arrived fifteen minutes later. He looked at Janey with what Marissa had once heard referred to as googly eyes.
Marissa found it achingly sweet to watch the two interact. Janey obviously felt something for him, too. Maybe now that she no longer considered Dane as a possible boyfriend, a relationship with the eighteen-year-old Tommy would develop. She hoped that Janey and Tommy wouldn't indulge in physical acts they weren't ready for emotionally or mentally.
Didn't kids have enough to worry about these days without the additional burdens of venereal disease and pregnancy?
What about her? Her desire to have sex...was it a naïve foray into an area she wasn't ready to explore?
After the kids left, Dane cornered Marissa in the living room.
"What in the hell are you doing to me?"
She blinked. His ferocious tone made her back up a step. "What do you mean?"
He pushed a hand through his hair. "My life has turned upside down since I met you. Not one single normal thing has happened to me in the last twenty-four hours."
"I'm terribly sorry, Dane, if I've upset—"
"That's another thing. All this apologizing. Why do you have to admit you're wrong all the time?"
"I'm not wrong all the time. But there's no reason to—"
"You're reasonable all the time, too. Except when it comes to that damned list. And hiring thugs. And beating up assholes. And saving disgusting rat dogs. And convincing young girls that I'm old. Never mind. You're not reasonable at all." He advanced on her.
She backed up until her legs smacked into the couch. Her heart pounded, not in fear, but in answer to the primal need she saw in Dane's eyes. Somehow, she understood that he wanted her, but that he didn't want to want her.
"I don't know if I should throttle you or—or do this!" He grabbed her shoulders and planted a fierce kiss on her lips.
Her knees weakened and she fell back onto the couch. He landed on top of her and nearly crushed her ability to breathe—not that she could've drawn a steady breath. He'd taken away that vital function with the onslaught of his mouth.
She didn't think kissing could get any better until Dane teased open her lips and slipped his tongue inside. Marissa thought she was going to faint. Her head buzzed, her body tingled, her emotional thermometer went into the red zone. Her ideas about being too naïve to experience sex melted like candle wax exposed to a flame.
Dane stilled then scooted away from her. "Shit." He rubbed his face as if he'd just wakened from a dream and he was trying to brush away the last of sleep. "I'm sorry, Marissa. I asked you not to touch me then I almost..."
"Ravished me?" She licked her lips. "Ravish me some more, please."
"I can't. I meant it about the one-night stand. I don't think two people should just have sex just because they're attracted to each other. There should be more and I don't have more to give you. Understand?"
"No." She looked at him, resisting the urge to yank him down on top of her and beg him to get on with the ravishing. "I've never asked for more."
"That's just it. You should ask for more. You should want the whole thing."
"What whole thing?"