“What does that even mean?”
Mark maneuvered his car into a parking space half a block from the restaurant. “It means that as far as the press knows, we’re a couple. She’s my standing date for public events. But in real life, we don’t even talk. No strings and no drama.”
“And no sex,” Beau added with a raised eyebrow.
“There wouldn’t be any anyway—not without a wedding vow.”
“A vow of silence is all I need.”
“You really are a jerk sometimes, you know that right?” Mark undid his seatbelt.
“Yep.”
Mark’s phone rang and Kate’s picture appeared on the dash. He put the call on speaker. “Hello?”
“Hi, Mark, we have a situation.”
Mark exchanged a look with Beau. “What’s going on?”
“One of the contest winners is asking for another hotel room and I need you to authorize the charge.”
Mark sighed. People always wanted more. He’d hoped to have a nice lunch with some fans—talk movies and baseball. Not have to put up a wall to protect himself from being sucked dry.
Beau ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. “Does it have to be at the Rtiz?”
“Good question,” muttered Mark. They’d splurged on that one, hoping to encourage the wealthy to open their wallets a little wider. Any money they spent would have to come out of the funds earned through the contest, which meant Teens on Target would be out an extra thousand dollars or more because of the last-minute booking.
“The original documentation and advertisements don’t specify,” replied Kate.
“Did they ask for a room at the Ritz?” asked Mark.
“No,” answered Kate.
Beau smirked. “Tell them they can have a second room and then book them out by the airport.” Airport hotels weren’t usually as nice as the downtown accommodations, but they would be adequately housed for the night and Teens on Target would get the maximum amount from this fundraiser.
Kate didn’t respond right away.
“Did you hear that?” Mark asked.
“Yes. I’ll take care of everything.”
“Thanks, Kate. As always you’re the best.” They said goodbye and hung up.
Beau turned to face him. “It’s like I told you the other night. Everyone wants a piece of us.”
Mark shrugged off his own cynical thoughts. “No matter how demanding they are, let’s remember that we’re here to make their day because they donated to Teens on Target.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
Beau’s reassurance should have soothed Mark’s worries, but knowing Beau as he did, they didn’t. Mark turned off the car and they made their way down the tree-lined sidewalk.
Chapter Four
Allie stared longingly at the three pizzas lining the counter. The cooking staff had prepared them for the photographers to shoot, and the smell was unbelievable. Who knew pears and blackberries could go on a pizza? This adventure had already taught her all sorts of things about the world beyond the diner walls. She couldn’t believe she was going to have lunch with some of the hottest men on the planet.
Speaking of superstars …
Allie ran her hand over her silky locks. The makeover session had been fun. They didn’t try to cut her hair, but added a shine spray to what she’d done with a flat iron that morning. With a brushing of mineral powder and a lip stain that was supposed to last through eating a pizza, she’d been pronounced ready to meet Mark, Beau, and Anthony.
Her stomach tumbled.
A beautiful woman with a baby bump came through the front doors. She moved like a model, all poise and posture, heading straight for Kate. George put his phone in his back pocket. She’d given him the silent treatment when he offered to see how long that lip stain could really last.
“All right.” Kate lifted her hands to get their attention.
Allie sat up taller.
“What we’re looking for here is a big entrance. Can you do the whole scream and flutter your hand bit?” she asked Allie.
Allie made a face. “Are you for real?”
“I can tell it’s not your MO, but this video will be used to raise awareness for Teens on Target. A little theatrics can go a long way.”
Allie thought of the kids who had painted her building. They’d given up a Saturday to beautify Atlanta, and for her—even if they didn’t specifically know her. The least she could do was flutter. “Yeah—I mean, if it will help the kids.”
Kate relaxed. “Thanks. The guys are almost ready.” She took two steps away and pressed her phone to her ear.
George rubbed his hands together. “This is gonna be epic.” He glanced over her and licked his lips.
You’re a pig. Allie stuffed her hands in her pockets. At least, she tried to stuff her hands in her pockets. The tight jeans made it a struggle. She offered up a quick prayer that the extra hotel room had been made available. Turning to the pregnant woman who had taken a seat at the nearest table, Allie said, “Hi.”
“Hello.” Her words had a soft accent to them, making her sound as exotic as she looked.
“I hope I look as good as you when I’m pregnant,” Allie blurted.
“Thank you. Are you married?”
“Me? Oh no. I mean, I was, but he turned out to be a tool.”
“Really?” The woman cocked her head.
“Yeah. Anytime I wanted to throw money away, I used him. Well, more like he used me.” She paused. “Maybe I was the tool.”
“No way—you’re too good for the likes of him.” She flicked her hand as if flicking away Reed.
If only getting rid of him had been that easy. “Enough about me—tell me about this little one—boy or girl?”
“I haven’t found out.” She leaned in, drawing Allie closer with a wave of her hand. “To tell you the truth, I’m scared to death to be a mom.”
Allie placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re going to be a great mom.”
She blinked. “You’re just saying that because you are good. You don’t know.”
Allie laughed. “I do too know. You’re kind. That’s one of the biggest requirements.”
She looked down and rubbed her belly. “I needed those words. Thank you.”
“Anytime. Did you win a raffle too?” asked Allie, hoping they could spend the afternoon together. Meeting one super-hot guy would be hard enough, but three of them was just overwhelming. Until this moment, she hadn’t given much thought to what she’d say, but now the idea of making small talk for an hour and half was daunting.
The woman gave her a quizzical look.
“Okay,” called Kate as if there was a room full of rowdy customers instead of the three of them. “It’s time. That curtain will open and you’ll have your little freak-out and then you can order whatever kind of pizza you want and eat. After that, we’ll sign autographs and you’ll be checked into the hotel.”
“I thought we’d have more time,” grumbled George.
“That’s all the time allotted for today,” Kate said while looking at her pad as if the discussion weren’t worth arguing over.
Allie took mental notes of how Kate handled George’s whining. Too often, she’d been bowled over by customers as they asked for an extra dollop of whipped cream or—heaven forbid—gravy, and ended up paying for the extras out of her pocket. Not anymore. She was going to adopt Kate’s technique and put an end to the pushers and takers in the café.
Kate counted down from three, and the curtain parted to reveal three of the most beautiful men Allie had ever seen. First was the athlete, Anthony. He wore a tight-fitting Braves shirt that accentuated his muscles and complemented his dark skin, along with a pair of jeans.
Next was Beau Mckay. Though he was seriously good-lookin’ in his well-fitted jeans and button-up shirt, Allie was surprised to see a touch of gray at his temples and wrinkles around his mouth. In his movies, he still appeared fresh out of acting school, though his skills were far beyo
nd a beginner.
Lastly, though certainly not least, was Mark Dubois. It was a good thing Allie had started on the other end of the trio, or her eyes would have never gotten past Mark. His hair, longer on top and shaved on the sides, was boy-next-door adorable, while his turquoise blue eyes electrified her heart, shocking the organ into palpitations. His broad shoulders and trim waist were draped in easygoing faded jeans and a white T-shirt that pulled across his muscles. Holy moly, the guy was face-fanning hot.
Speaking of face-fanning, Kate was waving at her to get on with the freak-out.
For the teens. “Eeeeee!” Allie did a little hopping dance and then went right ahead and fanned her face. She needed it more than she would admit out loud. She sighed heavily, placing her other hand over her heart.
Her squeal startled George into action. He stepped in front of Allie and thrust his hand out for Anthony to take. In no time, he was pumping arms like he was running for governor.
Allie held back, letting him have his moment. After all, neither one of them would be here if he hadn’t bought that raffle ticket in the first place. Plus, she wasn’t sure what to say. Hi, I’m Allie, would you like gravy on that? was all that came to mind.
When he got to Beau, George slapped him on both shoulders. “I can’t believe it’s you. Say the line—go on, say it!”
Beau’s mouth twisted wryly. How many times had he performed this for fans? Poor guy. Allie shook her head. Wait, this was Beau Mckay—Atlanta’s self-proclaimed player. Poor little rich guy indeed.
Dipping his chin and lowering his voice, Beau said, “You only cross that line once.”
George threw his arms in the air. “Yes! That was awesome.”
Beau chuckled. Gesturing to Mark, he said, “This is my good friend Mark Dubois.”
“Of course!” George stepped forward and gave Mark a man hug he wasn’t quite ready for. Mark pounded him on the back, and George coughed hard. Allie bit her cheek to keep from smiling.
“You’re my favorite on-screen cop.” George stared at Mark like he was a real hero and didn’t just play one in the movies. “I mean, you must really shoot. You handle a gun like you’ve been trained.”
“He does,” stepped in Beau. “Mark, tell him about going through FBI training while you two order pizza.”
Mark smiled, but his tight jaw and cocked shoulder told Beau he was in trouble.
“Anthony, you coming?” asked George, too excited to let this baseball guy out of his sight.
She watched Mark walk away, a very happy moment indeed, for his backside was just as beautiful as his—
“And who might you be?” Beau put his arm around her waist.
Allie looked up and into his alluring hazel eyes. He’d turned on the on-screen charm he used to seduce women, and she played along … for the kids. Giggling, because the room was tipping, she placed her hand on his well-defined chest. “I’m, like, your biggest fan.” She quickly removed her hand and pressed her palm over her mouth to stop twittering.
Beau’s smile warmed considerably. “Let’s get a table.”
“Don’t you want pizza?” Allie really wanted pizza. She was lightheaded enough from lack of food, and all these muscles in one area weren’t helping.
“I’ll have them bring some to the table.” He pulled out her chair and motioned to one of the servers in a white chef’s coat.
Allie twisted in her seat to watch the guys watch their pizza cook. Mark turned at the same moment, and their eyes met. A sweet charge shot through her belly and she froze in place, worried that if she moved she’d wake up in her bed. Mark winked, and she melted against the chair. That was so not fair. No man should have that kind of power at his disposal.
A server appeared with several pizza pies, which he placed in front of them. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked Beau.
“I think the lady should order first.”
“I’ll take a water, please.”
Beau chuckled, the cleft in his chin deepening. “I’m buying, so order whatever you want.”
“Thanks, but I don’t drink.”
He shrugged, ordered beers for the rest of the table, and turned his full attention on her again. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she half whispered, uncomfortable under his attention. Not uncomfortable like she was with George. That was repulsion mixed with the panic of having a spider in your hair. This uncomfortable feeling came from knowing he could see right through her act. Like he knew she wasn’t some fancy-pants woman.
The other three took their seats around the table, with Mark ending up on her left. He smelled of some manly cologne and leather. Heaven help me. Where does a guy pick up the smell of leather? Beau was bad enough with his cocky grin and expensive cologne, but she could write him off as a man looking for a fling.
Mark was something else altogether. He was … interesting.
Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that today was about living like the other half, about being in a fairy tale, and by darn it she had on her sparkle pants. She was on the verge of introducing herself to Mark with a confident handshake when Beau leaned forward.
“Anthony, Mark, this is Allie and she doesn’t drink,” said Beau.
Allie gave them all her brightest smile. “I do eat, though. Pass me a slice, will you?” She directed her words to Anthony—the least threatening of the three because of the ring on his left hand.
She should have sat by him. Way less pressure over there.
George would have killed her, though. He was as enamored as a fifteen-year-old boy and just as ready to shove her to the ground for talking to his Anthony. He took a large bite and then talked around the food. “How’d spring training go this year, Anthony?”
The guys leaned over the table, reminding Allie of her older brother and his friends. She leaned back, enjoying the meal, content to let George have his moment. At least with him here, she didn’t have to make conversation.
Just as she took a large bite of pizza, Mark turned to her and asked, “Are you a baseball fan?”
Choking, she took a sip of water to clear her throat. Mark Dubois was looking at her with his vibrant blue eyes, guarded though they were. Although what he thought he needed protection from she didn’t know. Nor did she understand how she got that vibe from him so easily. Taking in his broad shoulders and sinewy forearms, she assumed he could protect himself just fine without having to put up walls.
She wouldn’t mind being protected by those arms. Stifling a giggle, she took another drink of water before she realized she hadn’t answered him. “I’m sorry, what did you ask?”
Mark inclined his head. When the curtain had opened and Allie squealed, he’d brushed her off as another crazed fan. But when their eyes met across the restaurant, he’d practically tripped into her gaze. That had never happened before—not to him.
“Do you like baseball?” he repeated, wondering if he’d stuttered. He might have; his tongue was thick.
“Sure, go Braves.” Her fist punched the air and stayed there. After a moment, she tucked her palms under her legs.
“What do you like to do?” he tried again.
Glancing up at him from lowered lashes, she practically whispered, “I don’t really know.”
Interesting. Was she a workaholic? Was she dating someone? “What’s your job?” Usually the fans were the ones peppering him with questions, but he couldn’t stop them from coming. Allie glowed. Not in the glimmer-and-gloss way that Aspen liked, but there was this light that she put out in the world. He couldn’t explain how, and yet she was shining away like a beacon.
“I’m a waitress.”
A waitress? He looked her over. She didn’t look like any waitress he’d ever seen. “Not your dream job?” he ventured.
“Heavens no.” She reached for the crust left on her plate and tore off small bits, her hands trembling.
Her response left him wondering what she would do if she could do what she wanted. Did she have a dream job? Did she have dreams? “What
do you do on your days off?”
Allie stared at him. “Do you really want to know? I mean, you don’t have to talk to me if you’d rather talk to them.” She gestured towards the guys.
Mark stared back. He hadn’t met a person so unassuming in his life. “I really want to know,” he replied, leaning closer.
“All right, then.” She glanced up and then quickly away.
He wanted her gaze back, wanted that link to her, and found himself frustrated that she’d taken it away.
“I work as the maintenance person for the building I live in. So I clean out drains and stuff like that.” She made a funny face.
Mark chuckled and put his arm across the back of her chair.
“I also conduct the children’s choir at my church.” Her eyes went wide. “It’s not my church. It’s God’s church. But I go there.”
“That sounds like …” Mark searched for the right word to describe wrangling a bunch of children. “A lot of work.”
She laughed lightly, the sound sparking deep inside him, awakening feelings he hadn’t felt for a very long time. He leaned back in his seat, startled at the zing of attraction that went all the way to his toes. He studied her, wondering how a woman’s beauty could be as effortless as it was downright gorgeous.
“Oh, there’s work involved, but those kids are the best part of my week. They’re so sweet and love to sing and move, and they’re so full of love. They don’t care if you’re a washed-up, divorced waitress or a bloomin’ billionaire—they just want to spend time with someone who thinks they’re wonderful.” She ducked her head. “I’m rambling.”
“No, you’re talking and it’s … nice.” Mark scooted as close to her as he could and still remain on his chair. He took a long swig from his drink to relieve the sudden dryness in his mouth. “What’s your favorite song to sing with the kids?”
“‘Build an Ark,’” she replied without hesitation.
He could easily guess the subject matter, so he asked, “Why?”
“Because it has a great message and an upbeat tempo so the kids can wiggle and dance. We made up all these movements. It’s fun.”
Mark discreetly admired her long hair and thin frame. He could imagine her being silly and singing about Noah and two-by-twos and rain, but he very much wanted to know if the image in his head resembled the real deal. “Let me hear it.”
It Could Happen to Us: Quotable Romance Page 3
