MARISSA VANDERSON
Marissa smiled at the ferocious sound of Dane's voice. He'd been in a bad mood since they'd left the TeenCenter. Shopping for make-up and clothes didn't improve his disposition, either. She leaned against the closed door to listen.
"I'm going with Miss M."
"Don't you think it would be awkward for Brent and Marissa to have you there scribbling down their every move?"
She imagined Tuesday's grin was unrepentant. "This is the best job I've ever had."
"This is probably the only job you've ever had."
She'd better save Tuesday. Marissa patted her long curls—courtesy of her new rollers—and opened the door. Both men in the hallway turned toward her.
She cleared her throat. "What do you think?"
Tuesday's whistle was long and low. "You clean up real nice." He held up his legal pad and pen. "I'm ready to write shit down."
"Tuesday." Dane's voice held a warning.
The boy rolled his eyes. "Stuff, okay? I'm ready to write stuff down."
Marissa's gaze strayed to Dane. She saw the hunger in his eyes before he blanked his expression. Tension radiated from him even though his stance was a casual one; his strength and his heat seemed to envelop her. The sensation was so weird she shivered.
"You look fine."
Tuesday punched him lightly. "C'mon, man. You can do better than that. You're gonna ruin the woman's self-esteem."
"Can you excuse us a moment, Tuesday?" asked Marissa.
"Yeah, sure."
She waited for Tuesday to go into the living room then she folded her arms across her chest and looked at Dane. "You've been very moody. Do you want to talk about what's wrong?"
"No."
"Okay." She looped the small red purse hanging from her arm over her shoulder and started to slip past Dane. His hand shot out and encircled her wrist. She stopped and glanced at him.
"You're not going to nag me?"
The slight pressure of his fingers sent tingles up her arms.
"No."
He pulled her closer. "You're not going to insist I share my feelings with you?"
"No."
He pulled her closer still. Her hip grazed his thigh; her breasts brushed against his chest. "Not going to pout because I won't tell you what's on my mind?"
"No, Dane."
He let go of her captured hand, but she couldn't move away from him. She felt connected—no, not connected, but irrevocably drawn, like one of those hapless female victims in the old black-and-white movies who always fell under the vampire's gaze. Would Dane devour her, too?
As if he'd heard her thoughts, he lowered his head toward her. She resisted the urge to show him her neck so he could nibble it.
"You are unlike any woman I've ever met." He brushed a loose curl away from her temple. "You look gorgeous."
He kissed the spot above her right eyebrow, then stepped back and gestured for her to go past him. She felt as though she'd just run a marathon: Her heart pounded, her breath quickened, her limbs shook. But she managed to escape the hallway...and Dane.
***|***|***|***|***
MARISSA VANDERSON
"I UNDERSTAND THAT some men take women out for dinner before they make love." Marissa gestured with her breadstick. "But, really, you don't have to do that. I'm not interested in the mating ritual. No offense. You really are quite charming, but I don't want to develop a relationship with you. It seems pointless to spend money on dinner when I've already agreed to sleep with you." Marissa watched Brent choke on the wine he just drank. "Oh, my. Are you all right?"
He nodded, his face turning an alarming shade of red as he attempted to regain his breath. Marissa put down her breadstick and offered him her untouched water glass. He accepted it and sipped the water.
"Did I upset you?"
Brent took a deep breath. "I wasn't prepared for you to say what you said. It took me by surprise."
"Dane says I've an annoying tendency to be too honest."
"That's about the twentieth time you've mentioned Dane in the last hour."
"I'm sorry. How rude of me to keep bringing him into the conversation." She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "I can't promise that I won't mention Dane again. I've been unable to stop thinking about him." She leaned forward. "I'm not experienced, but I am willing to learn. Have you read the Kama Sutra?"
"Why do you want to sleep with me?"
"You're handsome and strong and confident. I presume you'd be a good lover."
"That's very flattering, Marissa." He took a gulp of water. "But I wasn't planning on going to bed with you."
Relief snaked through her and she relaxed. How surprising! She wasn't the least disappointed by Brent's rejection. Marissa looked down at her salad. She was acting so silly.
Since meeting Dane, she'd begun to doubt her desire to experience the mere physical act. It made more sense for making love to be the culmination of an emotional relationship rather than one night of incredible passion.
"I appreciate your candor," said Marissa. "Frankly, the only person I want to have sex with doesn't want me." To her horror, tears gathered in her eyes. She grabbed her cloth napkin and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. "I don't know what's come over me."
"You like Dane, don't you?"
"Yes." Her sigh was soul-deep. "But I annoy him so much. He's grumpy most of the time. The only reason he hangs around is because I'm paying him."
"You think so?"
She sniffled, giving in to the aching pain gathering in her chest. "Brent, I think I'm going to start sobbing."
"It's okay, Marissa. Despite Dane's grumpiness, I suspect he likes you, too."
"I want to believe you, but I'm afraid your assessment is incorrect."
"It's not your fault he's got a bug up his ass."
Marissa blinked. A bug up his ass? What an interesting phrase. She hoped she'd be able to use it sometime.
"It's Lorraine's fault."
"Lorraine?"
"His ex-wife. She did a real number on him. Then there's his mother—a rich bitch if there ever was one."
"He doesn't like me because I'm rich?" Marissa tucked away the information about Dane's ex-wife and mother for later contemplation.
"He likes you. I'll prove it."
"How?"