Nathan pushed Marcy behind him and threatened, “If you don’t get out of our way, you’ll find out.”
The man took out the gun and pointed it at them. “Make me.”
Nathan did the last thing any of them expected—he laughed. The men glanced at each other uneasily but refused to back down.
“You should put that away before you hurt yourself,” Nathan suggested.
“Give me your wallet.” The gunman turned his attention to Marcy, “And your purse, sweet thing.”
“Don’t even think about it.” Nathan pushed Marcy farther behind him when the second man pulled out a switchblade.
“You’re just begging for a beat down, dumbass.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth.” Nathan smiled menacingly and with lightning-fast reflexes punched each one, disarming the punk of his gun and the other of his knife before sending them crashing to the ground before Marcy could even blink. She couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw the two would-be robbers sprawled across the concrete, moaning and holding various parts of their bodies. Her mouth dropped open in shock as her wide eyes refocused on Nathan, who didn’t have a scratch on him.
A small crowd quickly gathered, and zoo security appeared out of nowhere and took charge of the situation. Nathan gave them the gun and knife and said a few words to them before returning to Marcy’s side.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Marcy glanced at him in awe. “Did the marines teach you to fight like that?”
“They did, but mostly it was growing up in New York.” He grabbed her hand and laughed, pulling her away from the gathering crowd.
* * *
A short while later, Marcy and Nathan sat in the Park Avenue Country Club Sports Bar. They occupied a small round table almost directly in front of a huge television set, which comprised almost an entire wall. They ate hot wings and potato wedges and drank draft beer. An uptown woman like Marcy Johnson should have seemed very out place here, but she didn’t. She wasn’t a stranger, either, a fact he became aware of the moment they walked in from the various greetings she received.
“What?” Nathan asked at Marcy’s amazed stare.
“You’re like James Bond.”
He laughed. “Thanks for the compliment, but I don’t think he has anything to worry about from me.”
“That’s not true,” she disagreed. “You’re a lethal weapon.”
His smile widened. “I just know how to take care of myself.”
“That’s an understatement if ever I heard one. You disarmed two armed thugs, knocked them out in seconds and they didn’t even land one blow on you.”
“Are you complaining?”
“No, it’s just...” She paused before sighing. “Wow!”
“Marcy—”
“Hey, Marcy, care for a friendly wager on the game,” A man stopped by their table and nodded to Nathan. “Hi, I’m Joe,” he said as he extended his hand.
“Joe, this is Nathan.” Marcy did the introductions as the two shook hands.
“Nice to meet you.” Nathan smiled, grateful for Joe’s timely intervention.
“So what about it, gorgeous? Wanna bet with me?” Joe smiled at Marcy. Even though the man was in his fifties, Nathan noted the sparkle in his eyes as he glanced at the beauty beside him. “I’ll bet you the Los Angeles’ wipes the floor with your guys.”
“Sure, Joe, how much you want to lose?” She smiled up at him sweetly.
“How about twenty?” The man took out a bill and placed it on the table. Marcy dug into her purse and did the same.
“You’re on,” she promised, adding smugly, “You can just leave that here since it’ll be mine soon.”
“We’ll see.” Joe laughed and walked off.
“Hey, Sam, how about another draft?” Marcy yelled over the noise, and the bartender nodded at her. Seconds later, a waitress had replaced their empty glasses with full ones.
“How often do you come here?” Nathan asked as he took a drink of his beer.
“At least once a week. I enjoy watching basketball here.”
“What game?” He laughed when his innocent question caused her to nearly choke on her drink.
“What game?” She gasped, appalled. “New York—basketball.”
“Oh.” He shook his head.
She popped a few peanuts into her mouth. “Do you enjoy basketball?”
“I never have much time to watch. I try to catch football when I can.” He smiled as she continued eating peanuts. How much junk could her system hold in a day?
“Well, you’re in for a treat tonight,” she promised, switching to pretzels. “Los Angeles is playing New York.”
“Sounds exciting,” he absently replied. He couldn’t imagine anything being as exciting as just staring at her was.
“It will be once the game starts and this place starts hopping.” She glanced at her watch. “Which should be in a few minutes.”
“So this is how you relax after a hard day at work?”
“Sometimes,” she agreed. “Sometimes I like to go home, let my hair down, put on something really comfortable and...” She deliberately lowered her voice before allowing it to taper off.
He sat forward expectantly. “And what?”
“I think I’ll show you in person,” she promised, smiling. “Soon.”
“You enjoy teasing me, don’t you?” He trailed a finger across the back of her hand, sending delicious shivers up her arm.
“Mmm,” she agreed. “I told you I like to play,” she reminded him.
“And I told you I don’t.” He turned her hand over so that his fingers could glide up her palm to her wrist.
“Didn’t,” she breathlessly corrected.
He frowned at her, “What do you mean didn’t?”
“We played all day, and you enjoyed it,” she said as she smiled smugly.
“Maybe I did.” His eyes never left hers as his fingers traced down her palm to her fingertips before ending contact.
“You did, and I promise you we’re not through playing yet,” she softly vowed.
Thankfully before he could respond, the game started, and her attention was glued to the television. He soon realized she wasn’t just trying to impress him; she was really into the game. He spent more time watching her than the game. As with everything else, she put everything she had into participating in the game, and she did participate, not just watch.
“Come on! Shoot a three, a three!” she yelled, and the player seemed to hear her because he did just what she had been loudly clamoring for. “Did you see that?” She turned excited eyes on him. “What a shot!”
“Just luck,” Joe dismissed her from a few tables down.
“You won’t even miss this.” She held up both their twenties and laughed at his good-natured scowl. When she returned her eyes to Nathan, he was looking at her as though he had never seen her before. “What?”
“Nothing...nothing,” he denied as she laughed knowingly.
“What is it, Nathan? Surprised that a woman can actually enjoy and know something about sports?”
“Not at all,” he quickly denied. “It’s just that you get so into it.” He tried to explain the strange feelings that had ripped through him as he had watched her today and tonight.
“There’s no use in doing anything without any emotion,” she said and then took a sip of her beer. “Don’t you agree?”
“I guess.” He bit into a hot wing so he wouldn’t have to talk anymore, and she turned twinkling eyes back toward the television.
An hour into the game, he came to the astonishing realization that he wasn’t the least bit tired of being with her; he was having a wonderful time. He had been with her all day and longed to spend what hours remained with he
r. When he had agreed to their date today, he had hoped being in her presence for hours on end would grate on his nerves and that he would be counting the seconds until they parted ways; however, the opposite had happened.
She was smart, funny and easy to be with; she made him relax as he never had before, and he liked her. He knew he wanted her; there was no use denying that, but dammit, he really liked her. More than that, he was beginning to care about her—a lot.
That was another reason for him to cut her loose fast—he didn’t want to hurt her. However, if he continued seeing her and let things get serious between them—more serious than they already were—he knew without a doubt he was going to do worse than hurt her. He would end up destroying her, and that was something he refused to do.
His life was nothing but lies, subterfuge and secrets. Marcy deserved better than that. She wanted and needed a home and family—someone who would be here for her, not traipsing all over the world at a moment’s notice barging headfirst into unimaginable danger. He couldn’t give her the simple life she seemed to crave—a life he also craved because of her but knew he couldn’t have because his life revolved around perfectly ordered chaos and unimaginable danger. He had to find the strength once and for all to leave her alone.
Marcy turned to say something, and her smile froze at Nathan’s somber, almost pained, expression.
“What’s wrong, Nathan?” She covered his hand with hers.
“Nothing,” he coolly replied, removing his hand from contact with her. “Are you ready to go?”
She wasn’t, but it was clear he was. What was the matter with him?
“Now? The game’s not over,” she reminded him.
“I know, but I’m ready to leave.” He stood. “Are you coming?”
“I guess so,” she slowly agreed, standing.
“Hey, Marcy, are you leaving?” Joe asked in surprise.
“Yeah, Joe. Hang on to this.” She smiled as she handed him their bet money. “I’ll collect it later.”
As they walked out, she noticed Nathan purposefully didn’t touch her—no holding hands as they had done all day, no playing with her hair, no walking close, no putting his arm around her shoulders. He was cold, aloof and completely the opposite of the man she had spent a thoroughly enjoyable day with.
“Nathan?”
“Yeah?” He didn’t look at her as they continued to walk, and she grabbed his rigid biceps and yanked him to a stop.
“I won’t let you pretend that you didn’t enjoy being with me today.” She correctly guessed his intentions.
“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” he denied, removing her fingers from his arm.
“No?” An eyebrow rose, and shoulders squared at his actions.
“No,” he coolly reiterated.
“Then what?” she demanded, placing her hands on her hips.
“I was just ready to leave.” He continued walking, and she had no choice but to follow suit.
“You were uncomfortable because you realize that in addition to wanting me you also like me. Isn’t that the truth?” A hand on his arm halted him again.
“No, I was just ready to go.” His irritation resulted from her correct assertion. He was also frustrated—in more ways than one. “Why do you have to take everything so personally?”
“Because it is personal between us, Nathan Carter—very personal!” she emphatically informed him. “That’s what bothers you, isn’t it?” As he remained silent, she pleaded for understanding, “Why Nathan? Why are you so afraid of me—of us?”
“There is no us, Marcy,” he coldly informed her.
“There is no us?” she echoed disbelievingly. “After the other night when you all but made love to me on my living room floor with my mother standing outside in the hall, you can stand there and emotionlessly say there is no us?” Her voice fractionally rose.
“I wanted you. I won’t deny that, but that’s all we have between us, Marcy. Mutual lust.” He should be struck by lightning for his blatant lie.
“Well.” The single word was painfully whispered.
He could kick himself for being the one to place the undisguised hurt in her beautiful eyes, but it was for the best. It was for the best. That didn’t stop him from feeling like a first-rate heel. “Marcy...” He reached out a hand in her direction, which she pointedly avoided.
“Why don’t you go ahead, hide away in your lonesome little hotel suite and tell yourself some more delusions.” Her eyes quickly turned to ice. “I can see myself home.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll take you home.” Again, he extended a hand toward her, which she halted with a frosty stare.
“I don’t need to be taken home,” she responded through gritted teeth and then walked away before stopping and storming back to glare at him. “You haven’t seen the last of me, either,” she vindictively promised.
Despite feeling lousy about hurting her, he smiled as he watched her abruptly walk away again; this time, she kept going without looking back.
No, he was certain he hadn’t seen the last of Marcy Johnson, and to his relief and dismay, he was glad he had not.
* * *
“Nicole, I’m twenty-eight and feel like seventy-eight. Your brother is going to make me gray before my time!” Marcy darkly prophesied as they sat at lunch the next day.
“What has he done?” Nicole listened sympathetically while Marcy described their zoo date the day before.
“He likes me. That’s the weird thing,” Marcy frustratedly concluded. “But for some reason, he won’t allow himself to give into what he feels. It’s like he’s trying to protect me from...” Her voice trailed thoughtfully off.
“From what?” Nicole questioned.
“I don’t know.” She shook her head in bafflement. “Himself?”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Nicole frowned as she tried to unravel her brother’s behavior. “I know he’d never hurt you.”
“I know that, too,” Marcy said and sighed. “You see my dilemma.” At Nicole’s nod, she took out her cell phone from her purse. “Maybe I should call him.”
“Oh, no, don’t do that. Give him a few days to realize he misses you,” Nicole suggested. “Let him call you.”
Marcy chewed at her lower lip. “You think he will?”
“I know he will. My brother may be many things but a fool isn’t one of them.” Nicole covered her friend’s hand comfortingly.
“Maybe he needs a little prodding.”
“Like what?” Nicole’s eyes lit up at the look of consternation on her face.
“I don’t know, but I’m sure something will come to me.” Marcy’s chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh as on cue an appealingly wicked idea took shape in her mind.
* * *
“Marcy Johnson,” she spoke absently into the phone while typing on her laptop.
“Hi, Marcy. It’s Nathan.”
She didn’t need to be told that; she recognized his voice instantly. Her heart somersaulted in her chest, and she smiled at Nicole’s correct assertion that he would call her. She was thrilled; however, she deliberately kept her voice cool.
“Yes—” she reclined back in her chair “—what can I do for you?”
He sighed heavily. “Your mother just called and invited me to dinner.”
“I thought she would.”
“Are you going to be there?”
“Of course.”
Her smile widened as he sighed again. She was glad he couldn’t see her; it was much easier to pretend disinterest over the phone.
“I was wondering if you’d like to go with me.”
“Why?” She studied her manicured nails and stifled a laugh at his long pause, which followed her simple question.
“What do you mean why?”
“A few days ago, you made it crystal clear you didn’t want to spend any time with me,” she pointedly reminded. “So what’s changed?”
“I didn’t say that, Marcy.”
“Didn’t you?”
“No.” His voice hardened as he said, “And you know it.”
“That’s the way it sounded to me.”
“Marcy—”
“Thanks for the invitation, Nathan, but I have to decline.”
“Why?”
She grinned at his disbelieving tone. This was just too delicious, and he deserved every second of angst she was inflicting upon on him!
“Because I don’t want to go with you,” she coolly responded and hung up the phone before he could respond.
She immediately felt a twinge of regret as she stared at the phone but squared her shoulders in resolve. This was phase one in operation get Nathan to open up, and she was determined to stick to her guns.
She was going to teach Nathan a much-needed lesson, and her mother’s get-together had created the perfect opportunity for her. Reclining in her chair, a smile of anticipation lit up her face; she couldn’t wait until dinner because this was going to be a game-changing night.
Chapter 8
Marcy entered her parents’ home dressed to destroy in an emerald-green, figure-hugging, just above-the-knee-length dress that left her shapely long legs and back exposed. Her arms were covered in sheer chiffon full-length sleeves. She wore her hair loose and flowing; it framed her shoulders and face in a multitude of curls—a style she knew would torture Nathan all night. She also brought along one other little gem specially designed to make Nathan’s night miserable—Henry Robertson, her date.
All heads turned in her direction when Marcy and Henry entered the living room. Henry’s arm possessively rested around Marcy’s waist, and she smiled up at him and laughed when he whispered something into her ear. Of course, her parents knew that Henry was just a good friend and business associate, but no one else did—particularly Nathan Carter.
Nathan’s eyes narrowed into barely visible slits as he watched Marcy and her date say hello to his parents before moving farther into the room to speak to hers. He felt as if someone had punched him hard in the gut in a sneak attack, and he didn’t like the feeling one little bit. Who the hell was this yuppie Marcy was with, and more importantly, why did seeing her with another man produce blinding rage within him? Of course, he knew the answer to that question but refused to acknowledge it. This was going to be a long and miserable night!
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