“We have regular, extra strength, buffered, childproof caps, nighttime—”
“Buffered will be fine,” he said, then took the bottle she gave him.
The clerk stood with her hands on the broom, looking at him. “Anything else, sir?”
“Uh, I’ll just look around.”
“Go right ahead.” She turned and shuffled toward the front of the store.
Mark walked up and down each of the eight aisles, keeping his eyes peeled for anything that said Personal or Feminine. Nothing. He made a second pass, this time more slowly. Nada.
He glanced around nervously and spotted the same clerk watching him closely, this time from behind a counter. She elbowed the cashier, a sour-looking teenager, and whispered something, nodding toward him. The cashier carefully pushed a button on her console, her eyes glued on him.
Mark grunted in frustration. They think I’m stealing something.
Within a few seconds, a jacketed, severe-looking older woman appeared. Her badge said Store Manager. Great.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Uh, yeah,” he said, keeping his voice low. “My…wife sent me out to pick up some personal things.”
The woman frowned in confusion. “Personal things?”
“You know,” he said, making vague gestures with his hands. “Woman stuff.”
“Woman stuff?”
He sighed. “You know, pads and stuff.”
“You’re looking for menstruation products?”
He smiled tightly and nodded, admitting defeat.
“Right this way.” She took him to an end cap in the front of the store which held a mind-boggling array of colored packages.
“Did you need pads or tampons?” she asked, her face serious, her voice rigid.
“Uh, tampons.”
“Will that be deodorant or nondeodorant?”
“The pink box will be fine,” Mark mumbled, heat rushing to his face.
“Slim, regular, plus or super-duper?”
“She’s snug—I mean, small…she’s a small lady.” He reached up to rub his hand across his mouth.
“That has no relevance in this case, sir.”
“Uh…regular, I guess.”
She sighed. “Twelve count or twenty-four?”
“I’m not sure.” Mark looked around, then leaned forward and whispered, “And I’m supposed to get some panty things, too.”
“Panty shields?” she asked loudly. The clerks giggled openly, as did a few onlookers.
“Yeah,” he murmured.
“Regular or winged?”
Mark sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with forefinger and thumb. “Just give me two of everything.”
She stacked his arms full, and carried a couple of packages toward the counter, herself. Except now the cashier’s line had grown to about a dozen. Mark swore under his breath and inched his way forward, careful of his cumbersome load.
He maneuvered around a beer display, but his knee accidently nudged the mountain of twelve-pack bottles. The seemingly unending sound of crashing bottles was superseded only by the security alarm triggered from the shattering glass.
By the time the cops arrived, the clerks had most of the mess cleaned up and tallied.
Mark used his credit card to pay for two hundred thirty-eight dollars and fifty-nine cents’ worth of “woman stuff” and beer.
“BLACKWELL!”
Mark jarred awake, his eyes flying open, his head jerking back. The men around the table chuckled as Mark shook his head to clear it, then repositioned himself in the conference-room chair. He’d fallen asleep in the middle of a staff meeting!
Ray Ivan frowned. “Are we keeping you up, son?” “No, sir, sorry.” Mark ground his teeth in frustration. Between frequent kitten feedings and Ellie’s bouts of vomiting, he wasn’t getting much rest. Two sleepless nights in a row had taken their toll.
When the meeting ended, Specklemeyer said, “Keeping late nights, Blackwell? I wonder what you could possibly be doing.” He flashed a knowing smile, then trotted out when Mark’s hands tightened on the chair arms.
Patrick walked out with him. “Why don’t you take the afternoon off, Mark? You look beat.”
“Ellie’s got the flu,” Mark explained, rubbing his eyes. “And the kids—I mean, the kittens… never mind. That’s a very good idea. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
On the drive home, Mark berated himself over the predicament he’d gotten himself into. In just two days, he’d had his fill of domesticity. He breathed a quick prayer of thanks he’d broken it off with Ellie before all this mess. At least she’d been feeling better this morning, so he’d be rid of her and her cats soon. No more sneezing, no more litter boxes, no more heating pads. Good riddance! He’d probably have to take a nap in his car when he got home, just to have some peace and quiet.
Mark wheeled into the driveway and pulled into the garage, already dreading the melee that awaited him inside. He sighed, pushing open the kitchen door, waiting for the scents of cat milk and chicken soup to hit him. His nose wrinkled. Disinfectant?
“Ellie?” he called, walking through the kitchen. A note on the counter stopped him. Ellie’s feminine writing curled across the page.
Great news! We have a new landlord who lifted the no-pet rule. Manny and a friend came over to pick us up today and take us home. I took the painting, too. It’s not much, but I did a little cleaning to help repay you for all the trouble. We can’t thank you enough. Ellie and Esmerelda.
A paw print in—lipstick?—stood out by Esmerelda’s name. The extra key lay nearby.
Mark stood stock-still. Not even a goodbye? Who’s to know she wouldn’t have a relapse once she got home? And she didn’t know the kittens’ feeding schedule the way he did. Or that BowTie ate better when his little ears were rubbed. The kittens’ eyes weren’t even open yet, for heaven’s sake! What was she thinking?
Wadding the note into a ball, he stomped upstairs. Not a sign of them anywhere. Every room sparkled, smelling clean and fresh. Not a cat hair in sight.
Mark sneezed.
“SAY CHEESE,” Ellie said to the furry group squirming on the love seat. She snapped several pictures.
“What are you doing now?” Manny asked, walking into the living room.
“Just finishing up a roll of film. I thought I’d send out birth announcements for Esmerelda.”
“I think your fever must have risen higher than anyone realized.”
“Oh, stop. It’ll be fun,” Ellie insisted. “And a great way to find homes for the kittens. I’ll send them to everyone we know.”
Manny stooped to catch a wriggling kitten before it rolled off the cushion. “How soon can they be weaned?”
“Well, they’re not quite two weeks old yet, so maybe another four weeks, possibly five since Esmerelda only started nursing yesterday.”
“Have you heard from Papa Blackwell?”
Ellie’s heart stirred. “No,” she said brightly. “Why?”
“I was hoping I’d underestimated him. Unfortunately, it seems I was right again.”
“He did take good care of us,” Ellie said, practically to herself. The way he’d watched over them in his home did more to tangle her heartstrings than his previous wild lovemaking. While he’d held the trash can for her to empty her stomach, she’d felt herself sinking deeper in love with Mark. At that point, she’d vowed to leave as soon as she was physically able. That she’d been able to take the cats with her had been a bonus.
“I suppose you’ll see him when you deliver the portrait.”
Ellie glanced over at the twin portraits leaning against the wall, waiting to be framed. “I was thinking of having it couriered over when it’s ready.”
“Why don’t you get dolled up and deliver it in person?”
“Manny, do you honestly think a cute outfit is going to erase the memory of him seeing my partially digested food?”
“Okay, I see your point. What are you going to do with the nude?” he aske
d, his voice wistful.
“Hmm.” Ellie frowned. “I’m not sure. Harry will give me a better deal on the framing if I have them done at the same time. Afterward, maybe I can alter the face enough to Sell it.”
“You’re welcome to use mine.”
She grinned. “I might take you up on that.”
When Ellie rewound the film and put away her camera, she discovered the two undeveloped rolls from the Blackwell picnic. Adding them to her backpack, she then changed into riding togs and grabbed her helmet.
“Back in a few minutes,” she yelled.
It was a beautiful day for a ride, and Ellie hadn’t been out much since recovering from her bout of the flu. She’d avoided it since she tended to think too much while cycling. And she hadn’t been ready to face the sad thoughts until now.
She loved him. With all her heart. She’d seen glimpses of the kind of partner he would be. They could have made things work.
If only he loved her, too.
Mark Blackwell might have been fooled by the pheromones in the beginning, but now that he’d seen her at her worst and without the influence of the love chemicals, she didn’t have a chance of moving his heart the way he’d shaken hers. So she’d grieve for a few months, then pick up the pieces and start looking again. Maybe she’d give Steve Willis a call.
Ellie dropped off the film at a one-hour developing center. then went in search of dried fruits and herbs for her latest perfume brainstorm. One good thing about being finished with the pheromones, she could wear her customized fragrances once again.
But, she decided as she rode by the sexy traffic cop without garnering so much as a second glance, it was the only good thing about not taking the pills. Her sex appeal had apparently nose-dived to its normal basement level.
She took a few moments to study the photos when she picked them up. She ordered lots of reprints of the best group picture of Esmerelda and the kittens. The photos of the picnic resurrected bittersweet memories. She’d gotten several good candid shots, especially one picture of Mark with his arm around his mother. Gloria was smiling, looking flushed and pretty.
A thought struck Ellie, and she checked her watch, gauging the distance to Gloria’s house. Just far enough for a good ride, she decided, and she’d be back in time to pick up the reprints.
Ellie pumped her legs furiously, enjoying the rush of adrenaline. After several blocks, apartment buildings and commercial property gave way to small older homes, with tiny picturesque yards. She slowed her pedaling to check the street signs, then turned down the road where Gloria Blackwell lived.
Wheeling into the neat driveway, she hopped off her bike and walked it to the sidewalk. After removing her helmet and running her hand through her hair, she took a deep breath, then removed the photos from her pack.
She climbed the steps leading to the pretty white clapboard home, nervousness rattling in her chest. After ringing the bell and waiting a few minutes, Ellie was tempted to leave the package of photos against the door and go, but suddenly the door opened and Gloria stood there, her hair rolled in large lavender curlers.
“Yes?” she said cautiously, her hand going to her hair.
“Hi, Mrs. Blackwell. I’m Ellie Sutherland. We met—”
Recognition dawned on the woman’s face. “At the picnic, I remember,” she said tartly.
“Yes, well…I brought you the pictures I snapped that afternoon.” She extended the envelope to Mark’s mother. “There is one of you and Mark I think you’ll be especially pleased with.”
“Why, thank you,” Gloria said quietly. “But why didn’t you just give the pictures to Mark?”
Ellie’s heart lurched. “We’re not seeing each other anymore.”
Gloria’s eyes brightened a fraction. “Oh?” She flipped through the photos, a small smile playing across her mouth. “My, Audra looks hippy in that flowered dress.”
“Well, I guess I’ll be going.” Ellie started to turn away.
“Would you like to come in?” Gloria asked, obviously uncomfortable but mindful of her manners.
Ellie smiled and shook her head. “Thank you, but I really must be going. I have some other photos to pick up—” She stopped as an idea struck her. “Mrs. Blackwell, do you share Mark’s allergies?”
Gloria smiled. “Me? Heavens, no. His father was always the sniffly one. My son inherited it from him, I suppose.” She counted on her fingers. “Marcus is allergic to grass, pollen, animals, feathers—”
“Whipped cream,” Ellie added without thinking. When Gloria frowned in confusion, Ellie said weakly. “The foamy kind.” Then she cleared her throat noisily. “Well, anyway, maybe I will come in for just a moment.” She flashed her most persuasive smile. “Do you have any pets?”
“OH,” Monica cooed. “Aren’t they adorable?”
“Um,” Mark murmured, studying the birth announcement Monica had received. The question “Do you have a home for one of my babies?” was lettered in bold print across the bottom of the card holding the photo. Written as a letter from Esmerelda, the announcement doubled as a solicitation to adopt one of her precious infants. The kittens’ eyes were open, their heads and paws woefully out of proportion to their tiny bodies. He noted with relief that BowTie, the runt of the litter, seemed to be holding his own with his rowdy siblings.
“I think I’ll take one,” Monica said. “Would you tell Ellie the next time you see her?”
Mark cleared his throat. “We, uh, aren’t seeing each other anymore.” He shuffled through a handful of phone messages she’d handed him a few minutes earlier, hoping one of them would be from Ellie.
“What? But you were engaged!”
Mark frowned at her wide-eyed expression. “Well, now we’re not.”
“Just like that?”
Irritation shot through him. “No, not just like that. We both agreed we weren’t right for each other.”
Monica shook her head in disbelief. “Are you blind? You’re perfect for each other.”
Mark raised his hands in astonishment. “We’re complete opposites!”
“Like I said, the perfect match.”
Shaking his head, Mark headed toward his office. “You’re not making sense.”
“Well, at least I know why you’ve been so testy the last few days,” she called after him.
“I have not been testy the last few days!” Mark yelled as he slammed his door.
12
MARK SPENT a restless Sunday morning doing nothing of significance. It was shaping up to be a blah, overcast day, and he had a mood to match. He sat down heavily on the couch and began flipping through channels. A lump under his hip caught his attention, and he pulled out a toy cloth mouse. One of Esmerelda’s less destructive pastimes. The pink mouse resembled Ellie’s tattoo, the memory of which had him shifting positions again.
Why couldn’t he get the woman out of his mind? Somehow she’d wormed her way into his heart, then sprouted barbs, at once anchoring her image and promising bloodshed if he tried to dislodge it.
He reached over to pick up the cordless phone and dialed his mother’s number, thinking he’d probably regret this phone call later. “Hi, Mom,” he said.
“Hello, dear, it’s so nice to hear from you. Where have you been keeping yourself the last few days?”
He swung Esmerelda’s mouse by the tail. “Mostly at the office, you know, working late.”
“You’re so industrious, Marcus, I suppose you get it from my side of the family.” She sighed. “Lord knows, your father never hit a lick at anything, God love him.”
Mark frowned and leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees. “Mom, I’ve never asked you this before, but you and Dad seemed so different, why did you marry him? I’m sure you could have found a better provider.”
She was silent for a long moment.
“Mom?”
“I’m here,” she whispered.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“If I’m upset with anyone, it’s mysel
f. I guess it’s easy to point out a person’s shortcomings. To other people, I suppose your father and I seemed somewhat the odd couple. I’m sorry I never took the time to tell you why I fell in love with Rudy.”
He sat in silence, afraid to interrupt her train of thought.
“Your father was a wonderful, caring man, Marcus. His heart was ten times bigger than his bank account, and I knew that when he proposed.” She laughed softly. “I was a comely woman in my day, and I had a fair amount of suitors, some of them real catches. But not one of them could make me laugh like Rudy.”
His mother cleared her throat. “I followed my heart instead of my head. And you know what? I might have wished for your father to be more financially stable, but I never regretted my decision to be his wife.”
Mark’s eyes clouded and his insides tingled. Ellie’s face floated in and out of his mind, taunting him. Follow your heart, follow your heart…
“Well, enough about that,” Gloria said brightly. “How’s the little painter?”
It took a few seconds for Mark to recover from his surprise. “You mean Ellie?”
“Yes, Ellie. She came by the house the other day, you know.”
He frowned. “No, I didn’t know.”
“Brought me pictures she’d taken at the picnic—she got a lovely one of you and me together.”
“That’s nice.” Was that cheeriness in his mother’s voice?
“She offered me a kitten, too. She said you’d helped nurse them when the mother couldn’t. And got her through a bout with the flu, I hear.” Her voice rolled with innuendo. “Is there something you’re not telling me, son?”
“What do you mean?”
“You like this girl, don’t you?”
“Well, sure I like her—”
“Do you love her?”
Mark snorted. “What kind of question is that?”
“A legitimate one considering you bottle-fed five kittens for her.”
She had a point. “I haven’t made up my mind how I feel about her.”
Gloria clucked. “It’s none of my business, but I wouldn’t dawdle if I were you.”
“What did you two talk about?”
“Lots of things—she’s really very nice, Marcus, even if she is a bit quirky. She found me a fourth for Sunday bridge tomorrow.”
Irresistible? Page 17
