Love Gone Wild: A Contemporary Romantic Comedy (8 page)

"In other news, a hotel fire nearly claimed the lives of five hundred guests. Fortunately, no one was hurt in the blaze, which destroyed the fifth and sixth floors of the ten-story hotel."

Kade's gaze shifted from the beer lid to the TV. Death and destruction. That's all the world cared about anymore. No wonder Lillian preferred cartoons to CNN. The corner of his mouth lifted as he remembered how she'd lay around in nothing but his T-shirt and watch Dragon Ball Z. He hated that cartoon, but man, he loved watching her.

She'd sounded scared when she called him yesterday. Damn it, he hadn't traced the call. The corner of Fifth and Main? In what city? Like he had to ask. He knew where she was—and she knew it was only a matter of time before he came after her.

A burst of sound from the television drew his attention to the hotel fire. Flames burst through windows and ate through the brick building; people scrambled through a parking lot, helped by firemen and paramedics. A leggy blonde, assisted by a fireman, limped toward an ambulance.

Kade's heart froze.

"While authorities haven't determined the cause of the fire, one policeman was quoted as saying its origin looks suspicious."

The blonde glanced over her shoulder, almost looking directly into the camera, and his worst nightmare was confirmed.

Lillian.
    

"Son of a bitch!" Anger surged hot and heavy in his gut, accompanied by the sickening feel of fear—the same ugly fear that had terrified him so much he'd driven her away. She'd told him he was the loneliest asshole on the earth and walked out of his life and right into trouble.

His cell phone rang. He unhooked the slim metal device from his belt and flipped it open. "Kade."

"Got another one, Murphy."

Kade's jaw tightened. "Where?"

"He's back on his old stomping grounds."

"I'm leaving now."

He shut the phone, re-hooked it, and walked to the closet. From the top shelf, in the back corner, he removed a shoebox and took off the lid. The single pack of Marlboros beckoned him; he grabbed the cigarettes and tossed the box to the floor. He hadn't lit up a cancer stick since Lillian left.
Kade grabbed his jacket and tucked the unopened pack into the left pocket. Then he went in search of a killer named Michael Feeney—and the woman they both loved.

W
HEN DANE WALKED
into the darkened living room, he noticed two things. The front door was open and Marissa's pert rear end, not at all covered by the wisp of pink silk that was supposed to be underwear, peeked out from her nightshirt as she bent over to inspect an object on the ground.

His groin took immediate attention. It pissed him off how she could play cuddly with Brent, but still put his body at attention with a skimpy show of flesh. He should have sex with her just to get even.

"Marissa!"

She screeched and jumped backwards, straightening up and whirling around, a hand pressed against her chest. A furry mewling monster skittered around her and into the apartment. The cat had any number of objects to climb on or hide under, but it chose Dane's right leg as a sanctuary, sinking its stinging little claws into his calf.

"You frightened Sophocles!"

The censure in her tone made his jaw clench. "Who the hell is Sophocles?"

"He was a rather well-known Greek writer. Is this the first you've heard of him?"

Now she was questioning his intelligence. Dane crossed his arms to keep from strangling her. "I'm aware of who Sophocles was. Since he's been dead awhile, I assume you named the feline using my leg as a scratching post...Sophocles?" He knew his words sound tight and harsh. But he found that he couldn't normalize his tone. A hot, dark feeling slithered through him and he didn't try to control it.

"Are you upset?"

"How'd you guess?"

"I'll pay for his room and board. Can we keep him?"

"No."

"I hate to put him out again. Nobody wants him. It's rather sad."

"There are a lot of strays, princess. You can't save them all."

She took a step, then hesitated, deciding not move closer. "Can he stay until we can take him to an animal shelter?" She seemed to sense the darkness of his mood, but she obviously couldn't give up on the cat.

"No." Dane picked the cat up by its scruff, strode past Marissa, and put Sophocles outside. "Go write a play or something," he muttered. Two baleful gold eyes regarded him then the orange-striped tom sprinted down the stairs. Dane shut the door and locked it.

"That was mean."

The disappointment in her voice pricked his conscience, but hell if he was going to feel guilty about defending his own home against hairballs. Marissa watched him. Her hands were clasped in front her like she was a nun getting ready to take her vows. The image of Marissa's slim, perfect fingers splaying against Brent's cheek had haunted him all night. His stomach churned.

"Get over it, princess. The world's a mean place." He walked into the kitchen and flicked on the light.

She followed, leaning against the stove as she regarded him. "Please stop calling me that insidious name. You only do it when you're trying to be patronizing and I haven't done anything to deserve your wrath."

He ignored her and opened the refrigerator, digging through the pizza boxes and KFC containers until he found a carton of orange juice. "You know,
princess,
you shouldn't be wiggling your fanny in front of my open door at two in the morning."

"I wasn't wiggling," she said matter-of-factly. "Although it appears you must have studied the subject quite extensively before rendering an opinion."

"If you wiggle like that in public, some guy might think you're issuing an invitation."

"Like you?"

"How many rejections will it take, Marissa, before you get it through your thick head that I don't want to sleep with you?" He slammed shut the fridge to punctuate his statement, then walked around her to get a glass from the cabinet.

"It appears I've hurt you in some way I'm unaware of and for that, I apologize. However, I wish you'd stop acting like an injured bear and just tell me why you're so upset."

Her quiet voice cut through his anger and made him realize how much he was acting like a big jerk. He couldn't share his feelings with her. He couldn't tell her that his resolve was weakening, that her body and her mind and her spirit were blinding his moral vision, that he wanted her more than any woman he'd ever met.

"I don't like that touchy-feely crap." He poured the orange juice, even though he'd lost interest in it. "Here's a little piece of advice. Don't nag men to share their thoughts or feelings or anything else. Guys don't like it. If they want to tell you, they'll tell you."

"I'll make a note of that, Dane."

The sarcasm in her voice surprised him. He was used to her sincerity and openness and honesty. He looked at her and saw those fabulous lips pressed together. Her gaze was flinty, and he realized he'd never seen her angry before.

"I'm not asking for an emotional commitment. I'm not nagging you to pour forth the complexity of your manly thoughts. I'm just asking what...what put the bug up your ass?"

Stunned at her less than hoity-toity language, Dane paused mid-drink. She left the kitchen and he watched her walk into the living room. She stood in front of the window, looking at the moon through the gap in the curtains, apparently too agitated to return to bed.

The anger drained from him. He didn't want her to be upset. He wanted the other Marissa, the one who was innocent and kind and naive. Dane sipped the orange juice. The acidic sweetness added to the bad taste formed in his mouth—the taste of his regret.

He strode into the living room and touched her shoulder. "I'm a class-A bastard."

"I've already come to that conclusion. Any other thoughts you want to share? Or do I need a crowbar to pry them from your mind?"

"I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"Apology accepted."

Dane stared at her back; it was stiff as a board. She wasn't going to make this easy.

"Would you turn around?"

She did. Hurt and anger still glittered in her eyes, but at least her lips were back to normal. One blonde brow rose as if to say,
Well, moron, are you gonna stand around all night or what?

"I was jealous." The admission popped out of his mouth before he knew it. She looked as startled as he felt. Heat crept up his neck.

"Of Brent?"

"Yes."

She looked down at the floor. Dane followed her gaze and noticed all ten of her toes were wiggling.

"Dane, I have a confession."

He stopped looking at her twitching toes and met her gaze. He saw the familiar expression of vulnerability and determination, and crossed his arms. "This is a new thing on the list, isn't it?"

"No. You need to know that I don't plan to sleep with Brent. We thought if we pretended to be together, you would get jealous and you—well, you might change your mind about me." Her bottom lip trembled; she nibbled it then sighed. "I suddenly realized the only person I really want to make love to is you. And, well, you don't want me. It's a conundrum. I haven't quite figured out the answer. Other than keeping my virginity, of course."

She'd done it again. Gotten to him. Twisted his insides until he wasn't sure what he was feeling. She wasn't anything like Lorraine—damned sure not a poor, little, rich princess like his ex-wife. She was honest and kind-hearted and, if he wanted, she was his. He knew she'd open her body to him the same way she'd opened her heart and mind to those around her. It was a frightening responsibility.

Dane wanted her. He didn't want to think about the implications anymore. She was an adult and so was he. What was so wrong about making love to a beautiful woman? It wouldn't be the first time two lonely people had found solace in sharing their bodies.

Dane leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "We'll talk about this tomorrow."

He fisted his hands to keep from touching her, then turned and walked away.

M
ARISSA STARED
AT the darkened hallway, unable to believe Dane had just disappeared through it without reacting to her confession.
We'll talk about it tomorrow.
She'd just ruined everything. He would probably quit or try to send her home or any number of things that did not include getting naked and sweaty with her. The ache crawling through her chest threatened to turn into a prolonged sobbing fit, so she distracted herself by turning off the kitchen light and counting the steps to the couch. She leaned down to fluff her pillow.

"Marissa?"

Dane's quiet voice startled her. She turned and found him standing behind her. A thin stream of moonlight highlighted the seriousness of his features. For some odd reason, her heart began to pound furiously.

"Yes, Dane?"

"I forgot something."

"What?"

"This."

He kissed her, just a whisper of his lips against hers. His hands cupped her face and he deepened his possession of her mouth. She thought she'd faint from the sensations he created by the simple movement of his mouth against hers. She felt like he was paying homage to her lips.

Then he pulled back. Moonlight slashed across his face and his eyes glittered with what she could only describe as lust. The air felt thick around her—she felt like she might stop breathing any minute.

"Good night, Marissa."

She couldn't get any words out. A grin tugged the corners of his mouth, as if he was amused by the reason for her silence, then he disappeared—again—into the dark hallway.

"
W
HAT ARE WE doing here
?" Marissa lifted the Styrofoam cup to her lips and sipped the convenience-store cappuccino. A headache threatened. Her head felt like it'd been stuffed with cotton when Dane had shaken her awake a mere hour ago. She'd been unable to sleep and it irked her to see Dane looking so rested.

Fresh from a shower, he'd hovered over her, tempting pectorals just out of reach, the woodsy scent of his cologne torturing her senses...it would have been much more fun to see him had he followed through with the promise of last night's kiss.

Dane parked the car in front of a dingy white building surrounded by a monstrous chain-link fence. Big black letters spelled SPCA on a crude wooden sign hanging crookedly above the screen door.

"C'mon," said Dane in an eager voice.

She put the cup on the dash and got out of the car. To her surprise, Dane clasped her hand. She instantly loved the feel of his warm, calloused palm against hers. Her headache faded, too. Dane led her through the gate, up the cracked sidewalk, and into the building.

A bell jangled as they entered a small room as dingy as the outside of the building. Piled haphazardly all over the room were bags and bags of dog and cat food. A rickety table and two mismatched plastic chairs occupied one corner. Marissa noticed a long table filled with flyers and pamphlets. To the left of the table, she saw another doorway.

"Whew," she said. "It smells like wet dogs and spoiled lima beans."

"Just remember that when you become a pet owner, okay?"

"Pet owner?"

He tugged her forward, leading her through the doorway. To the right was a long counter and behind it, a mish mash of desks, file cabinets, a lone ancient computer, and more bags of food. An older woman was on the phone, but she smiled and gestured for them to wait. Her long gray hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore a tie-dye T-shirt and jeans.
Marissa examined the rest of the room. There were four more doors, two in front of her, one behind her, and another on the right. More rickety chairs offered places to sit. Pictures of dogs and cats along with a number of newspaper articles were pinned to the grayish walls. The muffled sounds of barking dogs and people's voices filtered into the room.

"Is this whole place depressing?" ask Marissa.

"We don't think so."

Marissa turned and saw the woman leaning on the counter. Heat seared her cheeks. "I'm sorry. My comment was rude."
"It's okay. Any money we get goes to the animals. We'd rather care for them than paint walls or buy new furniture. Besides, the animals don't mind." The woman held out her hand. "My name's Peggy."

Marissa offered her free hand to Peggy, the other she kept in Dane's solid grip. "I'm Marissa and this is Dane."

"Nice to meet ya." She pursed her lips and appeared to size them up. "What kind of animal do you want to adopt?"

"Adopt?" Marissa looked at Dane. "We're adopting? An animal?"

"Any hairball you want."

"Oh, thank you, Dane!" She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. He squeezed back then let her go.
Joy surged through her. She'd always wanted her own pet—she'd even put it on the list. After the way Dane threw out Sophocles last night...she nibbled her lip. Dane was probably doing this out of guilt. It didn't really matter, did it? She looked at Peggy. "I want to see all of them."