MARISSA VANDERSON
Dane got off the couch and paced. "Love. A relationship. Marriage."
"Why do I need to want those things in order to have sex?" Marissa swung her legs over the side of the couch as she sat up. "I've studied the subject in depth and there have never been any indications that one must be in love with a partner in order to achieve an orgasm."
Dane looked at her as if she'd spoken ancient Greek. "Making love is a lot better when you care about the person."
"Responses are increased when emotions are involved...that makes sense. Yes, of course, there must be several benefits to making love when partners care about each other." She looked at Dane. "I will give the matter some more thought."
"Good."
"Could you hand me my purse? I need to find the list."
Dane took the purse from the chair she'd dropped it into and gave it to her. "You're not going to add anything to it, are you?"
"I'm going to mark something off." She dug out the pink paper and a pen.
"The one-night stand?"
"Close." She looked up at him and grinned. "The toe-curling kiss."
***|***|***|***|***
MARISSA VANDERSON
"SO LET ME get this straight. You want to pay me a thousand bucks to follow you around and take notes." Tuesday shook his head. "Why?"
The café, nearly filled to capacity, buzzed with activity. The waitresses' tennis shoes squeaked on the linoleum as they continually passed by the booth. One waitress with long blonde hair and fading make-up stopped to fill their coffee mugs.
"Why are you here, Tuesday?" asked Marissa.
"My hair appointment isn't until nine o'clock and I had some time to kill."
"Are you honorable?"
Marissa saw Dane's grimace. Frowns were making regular appearances on his face. He looked so much nicer when he smiled. His eyes crinkled up a bit and his lips had this wonderful, kissable curve...oh, dear. She sipped her coffee. She really should stop acting googly-eyed over the man.
"I stole your purse and you're asking if I'm honorable? I'm just a..."
Marissa saw the movement of his throat as he swallowed the words.
He slouched at the table and looked at her. "You're nice and all. But this isn't my thing, you know what I'm sayin'?"
"Would you like to create your own title? What about 'executive assistant'?"
Tuesday crossed his arms. "You're crazy."
"Maybe I am." She sighed. She'd botched this whole situation. Wanting to help and actually helping were not the same things at all. Tuesday was a nice boy who deserved a chance, but only he could decide to take it. She reached inside her purse and pulled out the thousand dollars she'd paper-clipped together. "Here. Take this as payment for your time."
"Put that away!" said Tuesday and Dane at the same time. They looked at each other, then at Marissa.
She shoved it back into her purse. "Honestly. What's wrong with you two?"
"You can't show off that kind of cash," said Tuesday in a low voice. "Don't you believe in banks?"
"I can't afford paper trails."
"Paper trails? What are you—on the run?"
Marissa glanced at Dane. Yep. There was the insidious frown. She zipped up her purse and put it on her lap. "Sorta."
"Sorta how?" asked Dane.
"It's a long story and I don't feel like telling it right now. Be assured I didn't break out of jail or a psychiatric ward."
Tuesday's grin was conspiratorial. "Say, Miss M, I'll need a couple of legal pads—and one of those fancy pens."
Excitement rushed through her. "Oh, Tuesday! Does that mean you'll be my executive assistant?"
"It means I'll take a few notes. But I'm not driving cars or bringing out drinks to guests or caddying at the golf course."
"I wouldn't dream of asking you to do such things."
"Then you got a note-taker." Tuesday grasped her hand as she reached for the purse. "I don't get paid until the job is done."
"Fair enough." She turned her hand so her palm met his, then shook his hand.
***|***|***|***|***
LILLIAN
"IT'S LILLIAN," SHE said into the pay phone. "I'm okay."
The voice on the other end was gruff—and pissed off. She knew he'd be furious, but she'd risk the wrath of God to finish what she'd started almost a decade ago.
The convenience store was located across the street from the hotel. She'd managed to follow Marissa and her pick-up from the bar; she'd indulged in a mondo cup of coffee and, thank the bakery gods, a Krispy Kreme chocolate-iced donut.
Unfortunately, she'd exited the store in time to see her quarry leave in a new Ford 150 blue truck. So new, it didn't have tags yet. She still hadn't gotten a good look at Marissa's new friend. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, and had a nice ass. Unfortunately, the backsides of half the men in the world matched that description.
"Lillian, did you hear me? Return immediately," he said. "I can't protect you anymore."
"I never asked for your protection."
"You did once."
Lillian closed her eyes. Her life had come full circle. The man she had once chased now chased her. And the one who'd protected her secrets now threatened to expose them.
"You know I can't come in. As soon as I take care of Marissa, I'm going to disappear."
"No!" Did she detect an edge of desperation to his voice? She smiled grimly. Yeah, right. He cared less about the world than she did. Just a few weeks ago, she'd told him he was the loneliest asshole on the earth; he hadn't changed.
But she had.
"I'll find you, Lillie. Or he will."
He knew she was after Michael. Great. "You know better. You taught me."
"Not everything."
"Enough."
"Damn it, Lillian! It's too late for you. For Marissa. Just let it go."
"Is the trace almost finished?" She laughed. "I'll save you the trouble. I'm on the corner of Fifth and Main, enjoying the worst cup of coffee I've ever had." She hung up on him, mid-curse.
Lillian disposed of the Styrofoam cup and then slammed the burner phone into the sidewalk. She crushed it beneath her boot heel then deposited the remains into the trash can.
With a casual stride that belied her urgency, she walked across the parking lot and headed toward the hotel parking lot.