Irresistible?

by Stephanie Bond

  “She plays bridge?”

  “No, but she knew that Ray Ivan plays and she called him right up.”

  “My partner is playing bridge with you tomorrow?”

  “Stella is making coffee cake and we thought we might splurge on a bottle of sherry.”

  Mark smiled and shook his head. “Sounds like a day.” “Oh, look at the time,” she exclaimed. “I have an appointment to get my hair done.”

  He laughed and injected suggestion into his voice. “Go, Mom.”

  “Oh, you.” She giggled, clearly pleased at the prospect of having a beau.

  “Uh, Mom, I was wondering…did Ellie have anything to say about, well, you know…me and her?”

  “Hmm.” He could picture her squinting at the ceiling. “I recall her saying something about…” She paused.

  “Yeah?” he prompted.

  “No,” she said suddenly, “come to think of it, I don’t think she said a word about the two of you.”

  “Oh,” he said, frowning. Disappointment squeezed his heart.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow when I get back from bridge,” his mother promised. “Bye now.”

  Mark hung up the phone, then stood and grabbed his keys, fully planning to drive to the office for a few hours. Instead, he drove around in circles before he finally parked at the train station and caught the line speeding toward Underground Atlanta. Maybe she would be there, drawing caricatures. And what if she is? his conscience probed. I’ll think of something brilliant to say, he promised himself.

  Underground Atlanta, located in the center of downtown, boasted nearly a hundred shops in its restored multilevel structure. The lower level, abandoned early in the century when the entire city was elevated, now resembled a town street, with shops on either side, the ceiling stretching far above the foot traffic. The quaint atmosphere and curbside entertainers combined to make it a favorite place for locals and tourists.

  Mark strolled the length of the cobbled main street, moving with the crowd, stopping to watch a humorous puppeteer, tossing a dollar into the man’s hat at the conclusion of the show. The small knot of people gathered at the end of the indoor street might have gone unnoticed by him, except for the glimpse of a floppy hat. He walked closer, carefully staying out of Ellie’s line of vision. His heart pounded at the sight of her smile as she invited a young woman to pose for a caricature. Stepping close enough to watch her sketch, Mark marveled once again over her talent, and her ability to banter with the audience as she drew.

  She must have inquired into the woman’s hobbies because the finished drawing showed the woman holding a flute. The woman thanked her and paid for her drawing, then Ellie glanced around for another customer. Suddenly her eyes landed on Mark, and she stopped in obvious surprise. He tingled in response to her expression. He’d been too rash in suggesting they stop seeing each other. Perhaps she would go to dinner with him this evening.

  “Sir,” she called to him, “would you like to have your picture drawn?”

  The crowd turned for his response, and he nodded, happily stepping up and taking a seat in front of her.

  She frowned, studying him in an exaggerated fashion before beginning the sketch. Mark remembered the queen-bee drawing of his mother and wondered how Ellie would portray him.

  “Tell me about yourself,” she said, obviously for the crowd’s sake.

  “I’m an attorney,” he said simply.

  She smiled, and spoke to the crowd. “Shall I draw him as a shark?” The audience tittered.

  He shrugged good-naturedly. Ellie picked up a pastel crayon and began drawing on her sketch pad. Mark couldn’t see the picture from where he sat. She looked beautiful in a pink denim jacket buttoned up to her chin over a long flowered skirt. She was multifaceted: Ellie the artist, Ellie the perfume maker, Ellie the wild lover. He smiled. And all of her personas made him happy, made him laugh. “But not one of them could make me laugh like Rudy…”

  As she sketched, she asked him questions she already knew the answers to.

  “Are you a visitor?”

  Mark played along. “No, a native.”

  “Are you married?”

  “Single.”

  “Do you like cats?”

  “I’m allergic.”

  The audience watched, their faces splitting into grins as Mark’s drawing progressed. He squirmed. Would she put him in his sports car? A briefcase in one hand and a phone in the other? A fancy suit and harried expression? He wouldn’t blame her if she did. Work had always been his top priority. Could it be his values were beginning to shift toward settling down? Mark felt an odd sensation settle in his stomach. What good were all his possessions if he had no one to share them with? And not just anyone. He wanted Ellie.

  “There,” Ellie exclaimed, finishing with a flourish. The crowd laughed outright when she shifted the easel toward him for his reaction. Mark swallowed, then smiled. She’d drawn him standing, a white handkerchief tied around his mouth, concentrating intently, a squirming kitten in one hand, a bottle in the other. Four other kittens climbed his jeans legs.

  “It’s great,” he said, looking into Ellie’s bright eyes. “How are they?”

  “The kittens? I still haven’t found homes for Jersey, EightBall or BowTie, but I’m hopeful.”

  “Mom said you’d talked her into adopting one. By the way, thanks for taking her the pictures.”

  Ellie shrugged and nodded. “No problem.”

  “And for arranging the bridge matchup.”

  Another shrug. “I owed your mother one—and Ray, too.”

  He fished around for any scrap of conversation. “Monica said she’d take a kitten.”

  “Great,” she said, her smile jarring his heart. “Three down and two to go.”

  Listen to your heart…do you love her?…don’t dawdle… “Ellie—”

  “Hey,” a fair-haired man exclaimed, walking up to Ellie. “How much longer?”

  “This was my last drawing, Steve,” Ellie said, smiling up at the man. Her face flushed a becoming rose at his appearance—she was obviously pleased to see him.

  Mark’s gut twisted at the man’s familiarity with Ellie. She tore his drawing off her pad and handed it to him. Instantly, Mark reached for his wallet.

  Ellie stopped him, holding up a hand. “It’s on the house.” She stood and turned to the crowd. “Thank you, everyone, I’ll be back next Sunday.”

  The Steve guy began to gather up her supplies, and Mark stood awkwardly. Ellie folded her easel, then glanced at him with a half smile. “See you around,” she said, lifting her hand in a friendly wave, then walked off with the man’s hand at her elbow.

  Mark stood like a statue, his eyes riveted on the couple. At the end of the indoor street, Ellie stopped in front of a bag lady who sat sprawled on the curb, her possessions huddled around her. He saw Ellie reach into her purse and extract a couple of bills, then hand them to the woman, smiling and saying a few words before she went on her way.

  Ellie, already on a tight budget, giving away her hard-earned money to a needy person. Just like Dad…Rudy would have been crazy about Ellie. He watched helplessly as the blond man put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her hair.

  Mark wondered if he’d caught a lingering flu bug, after all. He suddenly felt very sick to his stomach.

  “THE PAINTINGS turned out great,” Harry said, emerging from the back of the framing shop with one in each arm.

  Desire washed over Ellie as Mark’s face leaped from one picture, his body from the other. An ornate cherry-wood frame lent more formality to his business portrait, a simple black wood frame set off the nude perfectly.

  “Great,” she agreed with a forced smile. “I’ll take the nude with me. Courier the bust to this address and add it to my bill.” She handed the framer a slip of paper.

  “Wait and I’ll wrap them both,” he said, winking. “Else you might have a trail of women following you home wanting this guy’s number.”

  In the few minutes Ell
ie waited, she changed her mind a dozen times about having the painting delivered. Maybe she should take it herself, to gauge Mark’s reaction to her. He’d come to Underground a few days ago, presumably to see her, although she couldn’t be sure. Maybe he did care for her, after all. But without the pheromones, how long could she keep his interest? And she couldn’t bear going through another breakup.

  Harry appeared with the wrapped nude a few minutes later. “My driver was leaving with a delivery, so I gave him the bust. It’s already on its way.”

  Ellie nodded. It was for the best.

  But on the walk home, doubts nagged at Ellie. She’d never felt toward any man what she felt with Mark. Steve Willis was a nice man, but no feelings surfaced when he kissed her. What if Mark Blackwell was the one great love of her life, and she let him slip through her fingers because he reminded her of her father? Mark wasn’t Joe Sutherland. In his early years, her dad would never have nursed kittens and gone shopping for feminine-hygiene articles.

  Ellie took a deep breath and turned in the direction of the clinic. After a few minutes’ walk, she pushed open the door and asked a receptionist to page Freda. Soon, Freda emerged, her face folding with puzzlement when she saw Ellie.

  “What brings you here?” the woman asked.

  “Kittens,” Ellie said, extending one of Esmerelda’s birth announcements. “I’m trying to find homes for them and wondered if you’d be interested.”

  It was the first genuinely happy smile she’d seen on the woman’s face. “My tabby passed on two months ago. I’ve been meaning to go to the shelter to find another, but I couldn’t bring myself to replace her just yet.”

  “The black female is still unspoken for.”

  Freda nodded, satisfied. “I’ll take her.”

  “Great,” Ellie said, smiling. Then she glanced side to side, shifting slightly. “Uh, Freda, can we talk?”

  The gray-haired woman checked the watch on her wrist. “I’ve got about ten minutes, come on back.”

  Ellie chewed her bottom lip nervously, wondering how the woman would react to her request.

  “I’ve been wondering about you and your fellow,” Freda said, glancing over her shoulder at Ellie as they entered her small office. “How did you make out?”

  Ellie shut the door. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Freda’s eyebrows went up. “Oh?”

  “I need more pills.”

  After a few seconds of hesitation, Freda replied, “I can’t do that.”

  “Please?” Ellie pleaded, folding her hands together. Tears welled and spilled over her cheeks. “I’ve never been so miserable in my life. I love him.”

  Freda shook her head. “It’s impossible—”

  “I’ll pay you,” Ellie said through her tears. “Whatever it takes, just a few weeks’ supply, just long enough to regain his attention and show him how really good we can be together.”

  “The pills are controlled, I can’t distribute them outside the study.”

  Ellie sniffled loudly. “Then put me back in the study.”

  Handing her a tissue, Freda said, “You’ve already been through one cycle of pills, you wouldn’t be a pure study subject again so soon.”

  “You’ve got to help me.” Ellie sobbed. “What am I going to do?” She blew her nose noisily, beseeching Freda.

  The lab-coated woman sat back in her chair and sighed, then rose and crossed to a file cabinet. Opening the drawer, she fingered through several folders, finally stopping to extract one. Ellie saw her name on it. She hiccuped.

  Freda studied the file, flipping through several pages quickly, obviously looking for a particular piece of information. At last she found it, because understanding dawned on her face. “Just what I suspected,” she muttered thoughtfully.

  Ellie held her breath. When she could wait no longer, she asked, “Can you help me?”

  Lifting her head to study Ellie, Freda’s eyes narrowed. “What I’m about to tell you could cost me my job, so you have to swear to keep this quiet.”

  Her heart pounded. “What is it?” Ellie asked, her tears now dry from fear.

  “Promise?” Freda asked.

  “I promise,” Ellie agreed, crossing her heart solemnly.

  Her new friend took a deep breath, then exhaled it roughly. “In the pheromones study we conducted…”

  “Yes?” Ellie prompted, making a rolling motion with her hand. “What?”

  “You were in the placebo group.”

  Confusion washed over her. “The placebo group?”

  “That’s right—you were taking sugar tablets. Any so-called effects of the pills you took were self-induced.”

  Ellie’s arms and shoulders grew weak. She lifted her wobbly hands in question. “How can that be? Men kept smelling something.”

  “Maybe the extra sugar you were ingesting, maybe your natural scent—who knows? The power of suggestion is not to be underestimated.” Freda sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Tell a woman she has the ability to attract any man she wants and watch her throw her shoulders back and begin to exude self-confidence.” She leaned forward, waving a hand at Ellie. “Look at you—you have all the tools, you’re pretty and funny and nice. What makes you think you need some silly old pills to make this man fall in love with you? If he’s that blind, honey, then he can’t be the one for you.”

  Ellie walked home, fighting back tears. Despite Freda’s pep talk, her heart dragged heavily in the wake of the woman’s revelation. If Mark had never been under the influence of pheromones, then he had been physically attracted to her, at least in the beginning. But it also meant whatever feelings he’d developed had waned naturally, and not because she’d suddenly run out of pills.

  She’d been trying to make a mountain of commitment out of a molehill of lust.

  The many tiny balls of fur that came running for her when she stepped into the apartment lifted her spirits somewhat. She grabbed a cold cola from the fridge and one for Manny as he came sauntering through the hall.

  “Hey, girl.”

  “Hey.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Are you going to be in a blue funk over Mark Blackwell forever?”

  “Maybe,” she said defiantly, cracking open the soda can and lifting it to her mouth.

  He did the same. “Well, I for one get a boost every time I think about him getting caught in the bathroom at that restaurant.” He laughed. “You’ve got to admit it’s hilarious, El.”

  She smiled, begrudgingly lifted from her bad mood. “He could still get in worlds of trouble if Tony Specklemeyer decides to make an issue of it.”

  Manny stopped. “Is that the guy’s name? Specklemeyer… Why does that name sound familiar?” He walked around the kitchen absently. “I can’t think…wait a minute!” He snapped his fingers. “Does he drive a black Jaguar?”

  Ellie shrugged. “Beats me. I do remember Mark saying he had a vanity license plate that says—”

  “‘HUNGRY,’ in capital letters,” Manny finished.

  “How did you know that?”

  He leaned against the counter, a cunning smile warming his face. “Because that vile man circles the club where I work every other night, trying to pick up the performers as they leave.” Manny shuddered. “He says the most disgusting things.”

  Ellie’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, that’s no crime.”

  “No,” Manny agreed, “but you’d think the pot wouldn’t be so anxious to call the kettle black if he could be thrown into the same dishwater.”

  She grinned. “You’re right. I’ll call Mark later and let him in on the news. I’ll bet if he just drops a hint to this guy, he’ll back off.”

  “If Mark hadn’t been stupid enough to let you go, he wouldn’t have to worry about any silly old rumors.”

  Ellie walked over and gave him a bear hug. “You’re so good for me.”

  He pulled back in sudden recollection.
“El, I forgot to tell you—you got a letter back from the perfume-making contest.” He flipped through the mail on the counter and handed her an envelope.

  Ripping it open, she scanned the letterhead, and read out loud. “Dear Ms. Sutherland, we are pleased to announce your formula, Irresistible You, has been chosen the winner—” Ellie screamed, then grabbed Manny and jumped up and down. “I won, I won, I won!” After a few moments of elation in which she kissed him and every cat within arm’s reach, she continued reading. “Please contact us as soon as possible to arrange to collect your winnings, and to discuss your ideas for an entire product line. We look forward to hearing from you.” She threw back her head and squealed in delight, dancing around the kitchen. In her exuberance, she knocked against the painting, the resulting tear in the wrapping paper exposing a glimpse of dark cherry wood.

  Cherry? A tiny seed of dread sprouted in her stomach, then mushroomed when she ripped the paper farther and stared at Mark’s business portrait.

  “Oh, my God,” she breathed. “Harry delivered the nude to Mark’s office by mistake!” Her eyes locked with Manny’s. Thirty seconds later she pounded down the stairs, carrying the portrait under her arm. Running into the street, she hailed the first taxi she saw with a loud, ear-piercing whistle.

  13

  MONICA TAPPED on the door, then opened it a few inches. “Mark,” she said, holding up a letter and a bulky package. “Two things—Habitat for Humanity sent a thank-you letter for your donation, and a work schedule for the next home being built.”

  He reached for it. “Thanks.”

  “If I may say so,” she began tentatively.

  “Yes?”

  “Your donation was very generous, Mark. And for you to volunteer to help build a home for a needy family, well, it’s a side of you I didn’t know, but one I’m very impressed with.” She smiled and sincerity shone in her eyes.

  “Thank you,” he said softly, placing the letter on his desk.

  She held the large package toward him. “And your portrait just arrived.”

  His pulse leaped. Ellie was here! Mark craned his neck to look around Monica. “Where is she?”

  “Who?” Monica asked, confused.