“Don’t worry, no animals were harmed in the making of this joke,” quipped Allie.
Leticia swatted at her. “Stop it. You’re going to make me go into labor.” She leaned into Anthony, who kissed her hair. She fanned her face, flushed with happiness.
Allie enjoyed the shared moment.
Mark came up behind them, entering from the hallway. His hair was just-showered wet and he smelled like pumpkins and cinnamon. Maybe his bathroom had a difference soap theme than hers. She liked it on him, though. “Are you ready to head out?” he asked.
Allie shook her head, subconsciously never wanting to leave her new friend and their beautiful home, but she managed to croak out a “Yes.”
“Are you sure?” He shook his head and then nodded, teasing her.
“No. I hate to leave, y’all have been so nice. But I guess every great story has to come to an end.”
Anthony slid his arms around Leticia’s middle from behind and rested his head on her shoulder. “It’s been great having you.” He gave Leticia a little squeeze.
“I have a bag of bath soaps and salts for you.” Leticia patted Anthony’s hand. He released her and she headed down the hall, punching Mark in the arm as she passed.
Mark sheepishly rubbed his bicep. His rather beautiful bicep.
“What was that for?” Allie asked.
“I accidentally gave the bag she sent for you last night to George and his … date.”
“Oh.” Allie didn’t have a chance to ask when he’d seen George because Leticia came back in with a gift basket.
“This is the magnolia line, the same stuff that’s in the guest bath.”
The matching bath products were wonderful. “I loved them.”
“Magnolias smell great on you,” Mark added.
“You can smell the lotion?” She sniffed her arm.
He leaned in. “Only when I’m close.”
Allie was suddenly overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with his nearness, with the sheer mass of him. His shoulders were broad and rounded, and running her hands over them would be a treat. “Hmmmm.”
Anthony cleared his throat.
Allie was helpless to halt her embarrassment—mortified that she’d totally checked Mark out in front of his friends.
Her friends.
After this morning, she’d count the Greens as more than just acquaintances. For a while, she’d forgotten that Anthony was a baseball star and Leticia was a Peruvian model. They lived in a big house and drove nice cars, but they were just people. People who made mistakes like letting a tripped-out designer have free rein over their nursery, but people who could laugh at themselves too.
After exchanging hugs and cell numbers and promises to keep in touch, Allie allowed Mark to guide her through the house with his hand on her lower back. The sensations he created with a simple touch were enough to send her mind into a fuzzy place. Within that fuzz, she believed that she belonged right where she was, with Mark, hanging out with their friends on a Saturday morning and not in her soon-to-be bug-free apartment.
Chapter 8
“I have to say this one more time: I’m sorry about last night.” Mark glanced over at Allie. She’d had a funny look on her face—a reserved look like she was steeling herself against what was to come.
“What part—sending me to a rat trap or hauling me out in my pajamas?”
“Both!” He laughed.
She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “It all worked out okay.”
“Yeah, it did.” He’d gotten to spend the night under the same roof as this magnificent creature, Anthony cooked a mean waffle, and he had a beautiful woman sitting next to him. “What do you have planned for today?”
She laced her fingers together and hooked her hand over her knee. “My apartment building is being fumigated, so I thought I’d hole up in a bookstore down the street until six when I can get back in.”
Mark took that as an opening. “Would you consider helping me with a project?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Sure.”
“I need a baby gift for Anthony and Leticia and I have no idea what to get them. It’s been a long time since Chloe was a baby and I don’t want to get them a generic present.”
She clapped her hands together. “That’s easy.”
“It is?” Not for him. The gift had been in the back of his mind since they announced the pregnancy. Kate had a few ideas, but none of them seemed just right. Anthony was one of the few friends unspoiled by Jasmine’s advances. He’d turned her down twice and was the one who broke the news to Mark that she’d been unfaithful. He thought she’d been flirting and wouldn’t really go through with her advances with the director … until she did.
“Yes—but you’ll have to go where few men have dared to tread.” She wiggled her fingers maniacally.
“Where’s that?” Visions of baby showers and boutiques flashed through his head.
“The fabric store. Mwa-ha-ha.”
He handed her the phone. “I think I’ll be fine.”
She put the info in and Siri had them turn at the next light. “If you say so.” Her eyes held a secret delight that delighted Mark. If this was her reaction to going to the fabric store, he’d gladly spend hours there.
Mark had spoken much too soon.
Forsyth Fabrics had row upon row of fabric in a warehouse-type building. The floor was blanketed with thin carpet and the walls were light cream. He stopped ten feet inside the door, clueless as to which direction they should go to find a baby blanket and why anyone would volunteer to come here in the first place. From the other side of the store, a child’s scream of frustration echoed off the ceiling.
I feel your pain.
Three gray-haired women pawed through a bin of rolled fabric labeled Ends. A harried woman in high heels compared two blue swatches, holding them up to the light and dropping them to the floor and sighing heavily. Two clerks in green aprons wielded shiny scissors under a sign that read “Cutting Table.” Another one worked the register. There wasn’t another guy in sight. Mark hunched his shoulders and pulled his baseball cap down.
Laughing, Allie grabbed his arm and pulled him to the left. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t know if I want to.” He scurried to keep up with Allie’s excited quick-steps. “What exactly are we looking for?”
Allie stopped at the far wall. Considering her options, she released his arm and ran her hand over the green shades of soft fabric. “Something that would make Leticia smile.”
“She used to smile all the time.” Mark paused. “I think this baby is stressing her out. But she smiled this morning. You’re good for her.”
“Thanks.” Allie shrugged modestly.
Mark tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering. “You have that effect on people.”
“I’m just me.”
“You’re pretty.” He was going to say pretty great, but his voice died off when she leaned slightly into his palm.
They maintained eye contact, the air buzzing between them, until Allie turned her attention back to the fabric. She ran her hand down a dark green.
“Why do you touch them like that?”
“How else are you going to know how the fabric feels against the skin?” she asked.
Mark hadn’t run his hand down her cheek and he was pretty sure her skin would be the softest thing he’d ever touched. While he was busy imagining what would happen after that, Allie took his hand and placed it on a cream-colored bolt. He looked down at her, their bodies close enough he could smell those magnolias.
“This is a cheap cotton.” Her voice took on an instructional tone. “It will do a fine job during construction, but will wear out quickly and is a little rough to touch.”
He nodded, not wanting to interrupt the familiarity she’d taken with his personal space. She picked up his hand and moved them two bolts over. “This is a high-quality cotton. Can you feel the difference?”
“I feel something,” he whispered.<
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“Good,” she whispered back. Her hand shook as she moved him down the row. Had he caused that? “This is flannel—great for snuggling with baby.”
“Snuggling’s good.” His voice had this husky quality he hadn’t intended.
Allie trembled all over. She left his hand there and pulled a fuzzy fabric off the shelf. She looked over her shoulder in that way that he’d come to adore. Her hair sliding across her shoulders as she turned, all long and silky, and her eyes demure. She was too much for him. He tightened his grip on the fabric.
“But if you want the softest, you use minkie.” She reached up and brushed the fabric across his cheek, just above his three-day growth. “See?” she breathed.
He placed his hand over hers. “I like this.”
“Fabric shopping is the best.” She didn’t move, just stared into his eyes, searching. He so badly wanted to be what she was searching for. She leaned in and her lids half closed, her lips parting slightly. Mark had been so caught up in realizing how much he wanted Allie that he was a half-second behind her. Leaning down, he transferred the fabric to one hand and used the other to pull her body flush against his. She fit nicely against him. Small as she was, he could throw her over his shoulder and run for miles. He was tempted to do just that. Instead, he breathed in her scent, the flowers tickling his senses.
Their lips came together, hesitantly at first. Her fingertips skimming his neck and cheek until she gave herself over to the kiss.
Mark had never experienced a kiss so true, so … pure. She left no doubt in his mind that she’d wanted to kiss him. Not Slade McCoy or any of the other parts he’d played, but him. The intensity of the moment had him gasping for air.
Allie’s hand slid down to his shoulder and her forehead rested on his chin. Mark’s head spun with crazy thoughts. He couldn’t let this woman go—couldn’t let her leave his side, because she belonged there. Or rather, he belonged with her.
“So that’s the basics about fabric for baby blankets.” She cleared her throat.
She pushed the bolt of minkie between them and he grabbed hold out of reflex.
“You’ll need coordinating fabric for the back and of course some silk binding.” She dropped items into his arms as she spoke.
“Allie?” Mark followed behind her like a confused puppy. “Allie, I … we …”
She whirled on him, her eyes glossy. “Don’t.”
“But …” He groped for the words to express what surged inside.
She held up her palm. “Please, don’t. I should have known better than to let that happen.”
“Known better? That was—amazing.”
She huffed out a breath. “This doesn’t happen for me.” She wagged her finger back and forth between them. “I’m not this lucky. Somehow, someway, it’s all going to end—don’t make it worse for me. Just let me have this and hold on to it without clogging it up with words.”
Mark clenched his teeth together. Here he was, ready to pour his heart out, and she’d stopped up the flow. Grabbing her hand, he pressed her palm to his chest. A soft gasp escaped her slightly swollen lips. Something intense flared between them. What was happening, the attraction and need to be close, was happening crazy fast. He didn’t mean to frighten her off. With a little time, she’d realize he wasn’t some fly-by-night playboy. She was right about one thing: words could clog this up. Thankfully, he was a man of action.
“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 9
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.
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“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!”
A Blockbuster Proposal_The Trouble with Dating an Actor Page 7
