Marcy smiled blindingly as her eyes made contact with Nathans’s. Her smile increased his scowl of displeasure at seeing her with another man. Oh, my, he was very angry. Perfect. Mission partly accomplished.
“Hello, dear.” Margaret’s greeting forced her daughter’s gaze away from Nathan’s.
“Hi, Mom.” Marcy kissed her cheek. “I hope you don’t mind me bringing Henry along to what was supposed to be a family dinner.”
“That depends on what you’re up to, my darling daughter.” Margaret smiled.
“I’m just making a point,” Marcy sweetly answered, eyes dancing with mischievousness. “Nathan needs a wake-up call, and Henry is helping me deliver it to him.”
“In that case, I don’t mind at all,” her mother assured, kissing her cheek before leaving to report to Linda that everything was all right.
“Hi, Marcy.” Nicole walked up beside her.
“Hey.” Marcy hugged Nicole as she walked over.
“Marcy...?”
“Mmm-hmm?” She felt Nathan’s eyes on her and refused to obey their silent command to look at him.
“Who’s your date?”
“Henry Robertson.”
“A friend?”
“Mmm.” Marcy briefly glanced at Nathan, who seemed ready to burst before returning her attention to Nicole’s concerned face. “Keep a secret?”
“Of course.” Nicole leaned closer.
“He’s an old friend and business associate, nothing more,” she whispered with her back strategically positioned to Nathan’s ever-present glaring eyes.
“Good.” Nicole sighed in relief. “I can’t see you with anyone else except my brother.”
“Neither can I, but...” Her voice trailed off expressively.
“But—” Nicole grinned “—you decided to show him there are other fish in the sea.”
“In a matter of speaking.” Marcy laughed. The sound drifted toward Nathan and set his teeth on edge.
“Well, it’s definitely working.” Nicole’s eyes sought out her brother’s, and she shuddered at the frosty gaze he directed at them. “He’s absolutely livid.”
“I know,” Marcy cooed, amusedly following her gaze.
“You’re very cruel.” Nicole laughed.
“Hey, I’m just trying to break through your stubborn brother’s defenses.”
“I think you’ve found the perfect weapon.”
“So do I,” Marcy agreed.
“Here you go, beautiful.” Henry handed her a drink and placed a possessive hand on her waist. “Hello.” He directed a dazzling smile at Nicole.
“Thanks.” Marcy took her drink, and for Nathan’s benefit, she deliberately kissed Henry’s cheek near his mouth. “This is Nicole, my good friend.”
“Nice to meet you.” Nicole offered her hand and blushed when Henry brought it to his lips before releasing it.
“It’s a pleasure.” Dancing brown eyes smiled back at her before Nicole excused herself with a wink to Marcy.
“How am I doing?” Henry asked lightly, squeezing Marcy’s waist.
“Brilliantly.” She beamed at him, moving closer to his side.
“You know, I don’t mind helping you out, and Lord knows it’s no hardship spending an evening with you.”
“But?”
“But that guy across the room looks ready to commit murder, and I am much too young to die,” Henry theatrically professed.
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you,” she promised.
“Who’s going to protect you?” Henry wanted to know.
Before she could respond, someone touched her arm. She knew who it was before turning to find an obviously upset Nathan glaring at her.
“I need to speak with you now,” Nathan demanded.
“I’m busy.” She turned back to Henry, preparing to ignore him.
“Marcy.”
She turned around again to stare at him. He didn’t say anything else but just her name spoken softly yet urgently, and the intensity of his eyes moved her. After several silent seconds, she turned back to her date.
“Henry, will you excuse me for a minute?”
“Of course.” He glanced at Nathan’s dark countenance and added, “If you’re sure.”
“I am.” Marcy smiled and kissed his cheek. “You’ve got a minute,” she informed a fuming Nathan, walking off ahead of him.
Nathan glared at Henry before following Marcy to the other side of the room where they were relatively alone—as alone as they could be in a room full of family members whose curious eyes glanced their way frequently. He wished they could go somewhere and talk privately.
“All right, say your piece so I can get back to my date.”
“What’s going on, Marcy?” Nathan fought to keep his voice low, though it was noticeably tinged with anger.
“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” she coolly denied.
“Then I’ll spell it out for you—” he motioned toward Henry “—why did you bring that jerk tonight?”
An eyebrow rose. “Where is it written that I can’t have a date?”
“I called and invited you myself,” he reminded through gritted teeth.
“I didn’t want to come with you.”
“Why not?”
“Not that I need to give you a reason,” she delighted in reminding him, “but to be blunt, because I wanted to spend the evening with someone who enjoys being with me and who doesn’t have to be tricked or coerced into spending time in my presence.”
His eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
She turned to leave. He grabbed her hand, halting her exit. She glanced down at their locked hands, and then frosty eyes rose to encounter his frustrated ones. At her silent demand, he released her and scratched his chin.
“We’re not finished here, Marcy,” he tightly promised.
“Oh, yes, we are definitely finished here,” she haughtily proclaimed before sauntering away, when she really wanted to stay by his side.
As he watched her go, his blood began to boil to the erupting stage. He took a few determined steps after her but stopped when her mother proclaimed dinner was ready.
He simmered all through the meal and didn’t know what he ate. He watched Marcy at the other end of the table sitting close to her date, laughing up at him like an idiot all evening. The bum could barely keep his hands off her. He was vaguely aware that Nicole tried to engage him in conversation, but she gave up after he continued to answer her in monosyllabic words. It took an eternity for the meal to end. Once it did, he wished it never had because Marcy and her date took up residence in the middle of the family room and started to slow dance.
Nathan seethed, as he had done for the past half hour as Marcy and Henry danced much too closely for his taste. He watched jealously as the other man’s hand splayed widely across Marcy’s bare back and pulled her closer—something he thought was impossible, as they were already plastered together. Enough was enough! He downed his drink in one gulp and made his way determinedly toward them. He was going to end this charade of Marcy’s now!
“Uh-oh,” Henry groaned.
“What?” Marcy frowned up at him.
“That glowering guy is headed our way.”
She followed his gaze and saw Nathan stalking toward them. He looked angry enough to commit murder.
“Don’t worry.” She shrugged dismissively. “His bark is worse than his bite.”
“Are you sure? He looks pretty fierce to me.”
“Trust me. Everything will be fine,” Marcy promised.
“I need to talk to you, Marcy.”
Marcy casually glanced at Nathan. “Again?”
“Y
es,” Nathan hissed. “Again.”
“Can’t it wait? Henry and I haven’t finished our dance.”
“Oh, yes, you have.” Without another word, Nathan took her hand and guided her away from everyone in the room, not stopping until they occupied a secluded corner by themselves.
“We need to talk privately. Get your things.” Her eyebrow rose at his tight order. “I’m taking you home.”
“The only person I’m going home with is my date,” she emphasized. “We have a big night planned.”
Her last words hit home as she had intended. Nathan’s eyes hardened perceptibly, and his mouth became a thin, angry line.
“I’ve had enough of your theatrics, Marcy. You’re leaving with me,” he adamantly informed. “You have a choice—you can walk out of here, or I’m going to carry you out.”
“Who do you think you are?” She pulled her hand from his. “I will not be manhandled or ordered around by you.”
“You don’t seem to mind being pawed by Herman,” he quickly shot back.
“His name is Henry.”
“I don’t care what his name is.” His eyes darkened. “He’s been nearly undressing you all night!”
Her hands rose to her hips. “He has not!”
“The only reason your dress is still on is because it’s plastered to your skin,” he insulted.
“How dare you!”
“How dare me?”
“Make up your mind, will you!” Her hands dropped from her hips, balling into fists at her sides. “You can’t have your cake and eat it, too!”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you said you didn’t want me and that I meant nothing to you. Well, guess what, I finally got the message and moved on. Now you see me with another man and go ballistic when you have no right to comment on anything I do and certainly not who I choose to spend my time with,” she meticulously spelled it out for him.
“I never said any such thing,” he quickly denied.
“You implied it, and you know it.” She poked him in the chest with her finger.
“Marcy.” He grabbed her hand and held it against his chest. “I’m in no mood to play these games with you.”
“You are so egotistical!” She tried unsuccessfully to free her hand from his. “I am not playing games, but you are and I’m sick of it.”
“Exactly what is it you’re sick of?”
“You and your mixed signals,” she angrily informed him, still trying to retrieve her hand. “Make up your mind, Nathan. Do you want me or not?”
Each was oblivious to every eye in the room being unshakably glued on them as their argument escalated. As far as they were concerned, only the two of them existed.
Nathan disregarded her question and confidently asserted, “You don’t want Herbert.”
“His name is Henry. Henry!” she corrected and resisted the urge to stomp her foot in outrage. “Now answer my question.”
“All right, I’ll answer your question,” he promised, moving closer so that she could see and feel every angry nuance emanating from him. “Go home with Herbert, and give him a story to boast about to his yuppie friends, I don’t give a damn what you do or with whom,” he angrily promised.
“Neither do I,” she snapped. He dropped her hand, and she pivoted away before she gave into the urge to slap his handsome face; she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
He watched her walk over and plant a lingering kiss on her date’s startled mouth before grabbing his hand and marching from the room with him in tow; she never glanced back in his direction once.
When she left, Nathan ignored everyone, walked straight for the bar and began a downward descent into drunkenness. A few minutes later, Nicole was the only one brave enough to approach him as he downed his third—or was it his fourth?—drink.
“Wow! That was some scene between you and Marcy.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Nicole.”
“Too bad. We’re going to, anyway.”
He sighed heavily and poured himself another drink. “Go ahead. Have your say.”
She touched his rigid arm and shook him gently, “Nathan, stop being crazy and go to Marcy—unless you really want to see her with another man.”
“I don’t care who Marcy dates.”
“Oh, really.” Nicole’s eyebrow rose disbelievingly. “Is that why you are trying to drain the Johnsons’ liquor supply?”
“I’m just thirsty,” he countered, halting the glass halfway to his lips before slamming it back on the bar.
“Nathan—”
“I’ve had enough for one night,” he interrupted her. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Go home,” he soberly replied.
“Are you sure that’s where you’re heading?”
“What do you think? That I’m going to run after Marcy, beat up that jerk she brought here tonight and carry her away somewhere like a Neanderthal?”
“Maybe you should.”
“I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction,” he stubbornly refused. “I’m going home.” To drink myself into a stupor without prying eyes, to try to forget Marcy Johnson exists.
He hurriedly made his apologies to Marcy’s parents and to his and then left. The cab ride back to the hotel was short and miserable. When he returned to his suite, he went straight to the bar, took out a bottle of Courvoisier—that would do to start with.
An hour later, he stood staring broodingly out of the window. Not even the liquor he had consumed at the Johnsons’ and since coming home had dulled his ability to think about Marcy.
She was with Herman at this moment. He was touching that petal-soft skin. His lips were exploring her luscious sweet mouth. His body was pressed close to the soft, rounded curves he had indelibly memorized. Was she making those wonderful throaty sounds for Herman? Was she lying naked beneath him now writhing in ecstasy?
Damn her and himself for falling for her! How had she insinuated herself into every part of his being in such a short time? How could his life seem so miserably lonely and meaningless without her in it? He hadn’t wanted or intended to get involved with her; he didn’t want to care about her—but unfortunately, he did. He wanted and needed Marcy with a singular obsessive passion that was methodically destroying the rigid control he had always maintained over his life—and more importantly his heart.
He placed a palm on the window and leaned his forehead against it, staring into the blackness echoing his inner turmoil. His unexpected feelings for Marcy complicated things immensely. He didn’t have much time left before his next mission would take him far away from New York and from her for God knows how long. For that reason, he should be happy that she had brought that jerk to dinner tonight; it gave him an excuse to cut her loose before either of them got in any deeper.
Unfortunately, it was much too late to rein in his growing feelings for Marcy, and he knew it because the single thought raging through his mind torturing him at this moment was the fact that Marcy was now with another man instead of being with him—where she belonged.
* * *
For two days, Nathan missed Marcy terribly—her infectious laughter, her beautiful smile and the special way she alone made him feel. Life was colorless without her—dull, gray and listless. He remained secluded in his hotel room not talking to his family or anyone else while fighting with himself not to call her, but on the third day, he lost the useless internal battle and gave into his heart.
“Marcy Johnson.” Cool, professional tones answered the phone. “Hello?” she continued when there was no response.
“Marcy, it’s Nathan.”
She nearly dropped the phone and was glad he couldn’t see her. She had begun to think she had made a terrible mistake declining his dinner invit
ation and presenting Henry as a potential lover to him several nights ago.
“Yes, is there something I can do for you?”
She should win an Oscar for sounding unmoved yet slightly annoyed when she really felt like shouting in delight. He had called her!
“I’m sorry,” he forced himself to admit.
“Sorry? What do you have to be sorry about?” She pretended ignorance and placed a hand over the mouthpiece so he wouldn’t hear her chuckle triumphantly.
“For hurting your feelings the other day and for being an ass the other night and embarrassing you in front of our families.” He sighed audibly.
“The other night?”
“Come on, Marcy...” His voice held frustration.
“Come on and what?”
She reclined in her chair and stared unseeingly out of her office window. A huge smile lit up her countenance. She wasn’t going to give him the tiniest bit of a break—yet.
“Will you forgive me?”
“Well, I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to grovel?” Resentment echoed in every word.
“You weren’t very nice the other night,” she unnecessarily reminded.
“I know.” When she remained silent, he reiterated, “I’m sorry.”
“Are you? Truly?”
“Would plastering the words on a billboard in Times Square convince you?” His voice held more than a hint of annoyance.
“I should make you.” She secretly smiled.
“But you won’t,” he correctly surmised.
She wondered if he was smiling—one of those gorgeous smiles she saw so rarely and loved so much. She ran fingers through her hair as she swiveled in her chair.
“Who says I won’t?”
“I do,” he affirmed. “I know you.”
“Not as well as I’d like you to,” she impishly responded, enjoying their war of words.
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