It Could Happen to Us: Quotable Romance

by Lucy McConnell

  “Allie—we have a problem,” he said with as straight of a face as he could muster. Besides the fact that I screwed up my chance to whisk you away.

  “What?” She leaned back as if waiting for a verbal knockdown.

  He looked around, like he was worried someone would over hear them—hamming it up in an effort to bring back the lightness between them. “I don’t know how to make a baby blanket.”

  Allie relaxed. She even winked. “Lucky for you, my good friend Selina does.”

  “Would she make this one?” He hefted the many items in his arms.

  “Happily.”

  Mark grinned. If her friend was making the blanket, that would give him another opportunity to see Allie. He’d insist that he work only through her.

  They made their way through the cutting counter—not as scary as it sounds—and checkout.

  “This was fun.” Allie swung the store bag back and forth.

  Was she talking about the kiss or the shopping? He decided to keep it light and teased, “You have a weird sense of fun.”

  “Tell me you didn’t have a good time,” Allie challenged.

  “Parts were a lot of fun.” Mark winked.

  Just as he hoped, Allie’s cheeks turned pink.

  A thrill went through him. She’d felt the connection—back there in front of a rainbow of cottons—she’d felt it too. “Want to have even more fun?”

  “More fun than a fabric store? You can’t be serious.”

  Mark threw his arm over her shoulder. “You’re going to love this.”

  Chapter Eight

  When Mark said “fun,” a dozen scenarios ran through Allie’s head—including one where they snuggled under bolts and bolts of minkie. If he’d even suggested getting all tangled up, she would have thrown herself at his mercy. Maybe … she had to keep her head on her shoulders or she’d end up unraveling over this guy.

  But that kiss!

  That kiss that left her lips tingling and her lower belly warm. She shouldn’t have given in to the temptation, should have remembered her place in this world was not with a man like Mark. But she had no defense against his pull and when their lips met, it was like she’d woken up from a sleeping spell. Who knew there were kisses like that in the world? Certainly not Allie. She was used to kisses that demanded something from her, not ones that lifted her up to her tippy-toes as if she’d been filled with helium.

  Every kiss from this moment on would pale in comparison.

  And that’s why she should have never let the kiss happen. How would she ever find a man who compared to Mark Dubois? He’d stormed her hotel room to rescue her. He’d taken her to a castle the night. And he’d braved fabric shopping—an event men feared beyond all others. She was doomed to a life of settling for a shadow of the man who made her heart pound and her good sense disappear.

  Perhaps that’s why she gladly climbed to the top of rickety scaffolding outside a run-down building on the outskirts of Atlanta.

  “Brushes up,” called Mark from the sidewalk below, where several reporters and photographers gathered round him.

  Allie lifted her brush right along with the set of fourteen-year-old twins beside her—one girl, Olivia, and one boy, Owen. Even though they were skinny little teens, there wasn’t much room up here. She forced herself to not look straight down. She already knew the sidewalk was hard—no need to remind herself of that fact when she was eight feet above it.

  Mark stared up at her with this hunger that sent her insides swooping. She grabbed the metal bar for balance.

  “Aaaaaand, go!”

  She and the twins turned and attacked the wall with their wide brushes while a group of about ten went to town below them. The graffiti was kind of pretty in its own way, very colorful and street artistry. She would have voted to leave the artistic expression if there weren’t several four-letter words involved.

  Mark spoke to the reporters. She could hear his deep laugh as he entertained them with stories of Teens on Target’s past projects, the good they were doing for the city in general, and the hope they instilled in the future. She paused to watch and listen, her brush on the wall and her attention on the man who was quickly becoming a fascination for her.

  “How’d taggers even get this high?” Allie asked Olivia.

  “They repel off the roof,” said the girl. She turned to see what Allie was staring at and let out a gusty sigh. “He’s so fun to look at.”

  Allie chuckled. “And you’re how old?”

  “Old enough to see his movies,” replied Olivia, her head swiveling around to focus on her work.

  “But not old enough to date him,” threw in Owen.

  Allie laughed. “So you’re a fan of Slade McCoy, huh?” She remembered having quite the crush on Jess from Gilmore Girls when she was that age. Ah, the leather jacket and the hair!

  “She has three posters of him without his shirt on,” snarked Owen with a smirk.

  “Whatever. Only one of them is shirtless, and shut up, because he’s coming up here.” Olivia focused on the wall, working to fill in every inch of her assigned area.

  Allie stifled her laughter. “Play it cool,” she admonished the two of them.

  Mark’s head appeared, followed by those broad shoulders, his chiseled chest … Allie snapped her attention back to the wall, rivaling her younger counterpart in concentration.

  “How’s the high crew?” he asked.

  “Great,” squeaked Allie and Olivia at the same time. Owen rolled his eyes. The kid had twice as much done as Allie and his sister, but then he hadn’t been taking in the view.

  Mark paused with his hands on his hips, checking over their work. The scaffolding was already crowded and Mark took up so much room that Allie scooted closer to the wall.

  “Looks good, guys.”

  “Quit your yacking, Mark, and get to work.” The organizer tossed a paintbrush up, and Mark snatched it out of the air.

  “Yes, sir.” Mark made an I’m-in-trouble-now face at Olivia.

  Allie scooted over to make room for him. He placed his hand on her hip and reached around to dip his brush in the paint bucket. She let out a squeak and Mark gave her a little squeeze.

  “Real cool,” whispered Olivia, mocking her. She gave Allie a you’re hopeless eye roll.

  Yeah—pretty much.

  Mark straightened up at the same time Allie dropped her arm, and she managed to paint his elbow. She laughed at his astonished face. “Sorry.”

  Mark flicked his brush at her, splattering her shirt.

  “Hey!”

  “Oops,” he said, with an innocent lift of his shoulders.

  Allie lifted an eyebrow in challenge and her gaze dropped to his belly. She swiped at him. Mark spun out of the way and in a blur of ninja-like moves knocked her brush to the planks and left a brown stripe down her arm and across her chin. Allie could hardly believe what had just happened.

  Mark folded his arms, making his muscles look all that much bigger. “Not bad.”

  Allie sputtered, “How’d you do that?”

  “Slade McCoy.” He pointed to his chest. “Remember?”

  Just to his side, Olivia brandished her paintbrush and a wicked gleam in her eye.

  Allie bit back her smile. “I surrender.” She put up her hands just as Olivia made a large Z on Mark’s back.

  Whipping around, he painted her cheeks and one arm while she giggled uncontrollably—pleased as punch to have Mark’s attention. He spun and got Allie’s hip too.

  “What was that for?” Allie asked in mock astonishment.

  “Conspiring against me.”

  Still laughing, Olivia put out her fist. “Totally worth it.”

  Allie fist-bumped her. “Agreed.”

  Mark lifted the paint can and one half of his mouth in a crooked grin that had Allie gripping Olivia’s arm.

  “Truce. Truce.” Olivia caved on the spot.

  Mark’s focus turned to Allie.

  “Me too.” She laughed.


  He set the paint can down with a leery look. “I’m not quite sure I trust you two.”

  They giggled conspiratorially but didn’t comment.

  “Hey up there,” called a photographer. “Smile!”

  They repositioned themselves for the photograph and Mark’s arm draped across Allie’s shoulder. She leaned into him, appreciating his solidness and sexiness and lighthearted fun. She wouldn’t think an A-list actor would spend his Saturday afternoon painting over graffiti with a bunch of teenagers, and yet here he was, all strong and happy and like a dream.

  The photographer snapped the picture and waved to say he was done.

  Allie tipped her head up to look at Mark. “You’re not what I expected.”

  “Is that your way of saying I’m shorter in person?”

  She put her hand on his chest. “If anything, you’re a bigger man, Mark.”

  Mark brushed his fingers across her cheek.

  “If you don’t get to work, I’m going to have to separate you two,” yelled the organizer. His tone was half-serious, half-joking, but Allie suspected he would follow through with the threat.

  Mark squeezed her side. “I guess we’d better paint.”

  “So long as you paint the brick and not me.” Allie rubbed her semi-wet elbow into Mark’s side.

  He gave her a stern look. “Don’t start.”

  Laughing, she wiggled her brush towards him and then went back to painting the brownstone building. Mark took some time to talk to Olivia and Owen. He asked about school and after-school activities and their family.

  Allie was glad for a moment with her thoughts. Mark had indeed turned out to be different than she’d thought, which meant he wasn’t as different from her as she’d first believed. The heady feelings and bouts of giggling he induced to the side, he had a way of looking at the best in people, herself included. She liked that about him, liked the way he made her feel like she was special.

  She’d never been special to someone before. In a way, that was comforting, because if she been a special someone and the relationship didn’t work out, she’d be broken. She just knew that when she gave her heart away, it would have to be to a man who would guard it as closely as she had. Even with Reed, she’d never quite trusted him and kept a part of herself back.

  Mark was slowly pulling at her heart, and if she wasn’t careful, he’d have her undone for sure.

  Chapter Nine

  Mark pulled into a spot in front of Allie’s building. There was a do not enter sign taped to the glass, but a man shoved the door open from the inside.

  “Are you sure you can get back in?”

  Allie checked her phone. “It’s after seven and they said we could return by six, so I’m sure it’s fine.”

  Mark got out of the car and retrieved her suitcase from the trunk. Allie waited, the bag of fabric hanging over her forearm. He walked with her to the front doors, taking in the street. The neighborhood wasn’t the best, but the streets were clean. The rent was probably cheap and there were kids playing stickball half a block away. The Star Café down the street flashed a neon open sign in the window. That must be the place Allie waitressed.

  Allie turned and leaned against the doorframe. “Selina should have the quilt done in a week or so. She’s going to be so excited to work with this fabric.”

  “Do I have to wait that long to call you?” asked Mark. He took a step closer, and Allie had to tip her chin up to look in his eyes. She’d hardly made eye contact with him at lunch yesterday and now she held his gaze—he enjoyed the closeness.

  “You can call me anytime.”

  “How about tomorrow?” he pressed as he set her suitcase down next to the door.

  “Um …” She glanced down at her hands.

  “Too soon?” He cocked his head, studying her response. He wanted to leave, walk away like some suave guy in a movie. But he couldn’t bring himself to go.

  “Not at all. I turn my phone off during church services.”

  Mark leaned closer and slid his hand onto her hip. “Is it too soon to do this?”

  “You already did that.” Allie swallowed. “When we were painting.”

  “I did, didn’t I.” She wasn’t running scared and all her talk about how a kiss shouldn’t have happened seemed so far away. He didn’t want to push her, but he didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye like a man who was falling in love with a woman should. “Then what about this?” He searched for some sign that he’d crossed a line as he put both arms behind her back and pulled her body flush with his.

  “It’s all good.” She gulped, her eyes dropping to his mouth.

  Mark leaned down and pressed his lips to her cheek. “Too soon for that?”

  Allie sighed. “I wouldn’t think so.” Her hands came to his chest, where his heart pounded like a bass drum at a heavy metal concert.

  “Allie?” Her name came off his lips like a prayer. “I have one more question.”

  “Hmm?” Her hands slid up his shoulders and found their way to the back of his head.

  “Kiss me?”

  “I think that would be okay.”

  “Just okay?”

  “Really okay.”

  “Okay then.” He moved slow, savoring every sensation shooting just under and across his skin. The tantalizing tickle of her hair against his arm. The warmth of her skin brushing his. The gentile pressure of her fingertips on his neck. And finally, the supple taste of her lips. Her warm, delicious, and welcoming lips. His hand went to her cheek and he tipped her head to deepen the kiss. She moved with him, her body melding into his.

  For the first time—perhaps in his entire life—Mark felt real. This moment, this kiss, was as real as it got in this world of public personas, photoshopped pictures, and stage lighting. Allie was the real deal and he knew he needed her in his life. She was the anchor he’d been searching for. Before he got carried away, he slowed the kiss, hating to bring their time together to an end but knowing that there was a deeper connection growing bonding them together.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  Allie’s fingers went to her lips as if she couldn’t quite believe what had transpired between them. For Mark, the contact was so much more than an end-of-date kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of beginnings.

  “Night.” He let his hands slide down her back as he pulled away, needing to touch her until the last possible second.

  “Night.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners.

  She stayed there and waved as Mark pulled away, and he had to force his concentration into driving. He coasted home, unable to get Allie out of his head.

  Not that he tried. As far as he was concerned, today was the first day of the best part of his life.

  Sunday morning Mark was awakened by his assistant’s ring tone. He grabbed the phone off his nightstand and pulled himself up on one elbow. He’d get to see Allie today even if he had to follow her to church. Smiling, he answered with a light, “I thought I told you to take the weekend off, Kate.”

  “Google alerts are blowing up my phone.”

  “About me?” Mark blinked.

  “No, they’re excited about Black Friday deals in April. I’m sending you links.” She stayed on the line.

  Mark barely had time to scrub his cheeks awake before his phone beeped again.

  He clicked on the link, and images of him kissing Allie in front of her building filled his phone. He swiped through them, his anger growing, before he found the one of him pulling her out of the dive motel in her pajamas.

  Curses!

  “This is why I don’t take days off,” said Kate.

  Mark groaned. “This is the local paper, right? Nothing too damaging.” He caught the headline: MYSTERY WOMAN SNEAKS OFF WITH HOLLYWOOD DO-GOOD, MARK DUBOIS.

  Son of a biscuit.

  “You’re being naive on purpose,” Kate reprimanded him. “Was Allie in on this?”

  “No way.” Mark shoved the covers aside and searched for
a pair of jeans.

  “How did they get these shots of her in pajamas?”

  “There were three guys outside the hotel when I picked her up. One of them must have recognized me.”

  “It’s grainy—probably a cell phone picture.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Still, she could be working you. Paparazzi were waiting outside her apartment.”

  “If she is, then she’s a better actor than I am.” Mark shoved his feet into the pants and buttoned them.

  “Then who?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it was just dumb luck.”

  “Ha! I’m going to do some digging. Lay low today, would you?”

  “I have plans to see Allie. We’re going to go to church with Chloe.” Not that he’d told Allie that bit of information. He’d kind of just come up with the idea. But it sounded good to him.

  “Geez.” There was a heavy pause while Kate worked over their options in her head.

  Mark let her ponder the situation while he found a nice shirt and slipped into the crisp fabric. This is what he hired Kate for, and she was good at managing his image. Fake-dating Aspen was Kate’s idea, and their lack of drama had kept him under the radar for several years while Beau struggled to leave his house without being attacked by cameramen.

  “Shoot—I should call Aspen and warn her.” Mark made a face. After spending the day with Allie, speaking with Aspen was like taffy that had been left in the sun—clingy and not at all appetizing.

  “I already shot her an email when the first image came in. I’m supposed to meet with her agent for coffee.”

  “Have I told you how wonderful you are?”

  “I’d love to hear it again.”

  “You’re amazing.”

  “Yep. I’m going to write a press release to explain what really happened with the hotel. I’ll take the blame for that one. I still feel bad. You’ve got the annual dinner for Waters without Borders next week, and we don’t want all this drama to take away from that.”