ThisTimeNextDoor (17 page)

“My mother and I lived with her—my maternal grandmother—until I was seven,” she said. “She was nothing like a cartoon granny with white hair and cookies. She’s blonde and thin and perfect and insisted I be the same.”

“She should be happy with two out of three.” Realizing he’d said too much, he bit his lip, hard. He really needed to keep his mouth shut.

“She should’ve been happy about all kinds of things. Like we all should.”

They drove on in silence, Mark increasingly uneasy with the location of her motel. When the light turned yellow, he floored it so he wouldn’t have to stop.

“Slow down,” she said. “It’s right up here.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No, see? Right there.”

The building was indeed visible. Hard to miss it with all the cop cars out front.

He didn’t brake.

“Hey!”

“There’s no way I’m going to drop you off in this neighborhood.” He shifted up into third gear. “Way too many rats.”

“Turn around right now. This is no time to get manly.”

“Fuck that. I’m not manly enough to stop. Are you kidding me? Did you see those guys back there? They’d eat me for breakfast. And that was just the cops.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Why are you staying here? There’s a huge range between this and the Claremont, price-wise. That place has, like, negative stars.”

“I’m serious, Mark. Go back. It’s only for another night or two. I’m looking at an apartment tonight—” She slapped her forehead. “I don’t have a car. I had an appointment at seven. How can I find a place to live without a car?”

“I’ll drive you. Unless it’s around here.” He shifted into fourth, took the next turn at forty miles an hour. “Where is this apartment?”

She sighed but pulled out her cell to read him the address.

“I’m not driving you there, either,” he said. “You’re not in New York anymore, Dorothy. From now on, run all the apartments you find by me and I’ll tell you if they’re okay or not.”

The light turned red in front of him and he had no choice but to stop. Grabbing her purse, Rose flung the door open, jumped out, and marched over to the sidewalk with her blond hair flying behind her.

She was going to go back to that motel.

“Rose! Come back here!”

Without even a glance back at him, she kicked off a tumbling sheet of newspaper that had caught on her leg and continued on her way.

The light turned green. “Shit!” He tried to get over into the right lane but the cars behind him weren’t stopping. One honked, then another. Muttering the same obscenities she had used back in the parking lot, Mark hit the gas, passed the asshole who was yelling at him, and pulled a U-turn at the next intersection while trying to keep Rose’s bright, voluptuous body in sight.

He parked in a liquor store’s loading zone and ran after her. “Rose!”

Without turning around, she pulled her hair into a knot on top of her head and pulled the hood of her sweater over it.

“That’s not the only peanut butter you’ve got to worry about,” he panted. “Damn it, will you stop?”

“Only if you promise to bring me back to my motel.”

“You’ve got your suitcase in my car. There’s no reason for you to go back there unless you’ve got a date there lined up to pay for it.”

She gaped at him, outraged. “How dare you?”

How did he?
he wondered.

“You need help, honey?” a woman asked. She had orange vinyl boots up to her crotch, a white lace bra, and not much else. Except for the tattoos.

“Yes, thank you. This guy is bothering me,” Rose said, jerking her thumb at him.

The woman put her hand on her hip. “You only like blondes, Han Solo? I’ve got a few minutes.”

“No. Thank you.” He nodded to her, more furious than ever, and chased after Rose. “Get in my car or I’ll have you fired,” he said through his teeth.

Finally, she stopped. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” His heart was pounding in his ears. Adrenaline pulsed through him. He felt like Superman, like he could lift cars.

Or her. God, she was magnificent. Cheeks flushed, blue eyes flashing, chest heaving. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder and carry her to his cave.

“Fine.” She started walking back to the car. “But you’ll pay for it.”

I already am
. He watched her hips as she marched away. The curve of her waist. The jiggles everywhere.

Then he ran past her to open the car door and waited until she was inside before he got behind the wheel, breathing heavily, so hot for her he thought he would explode.
 

Don’t look at her.
He’d never wanted any woman so badly, not even Colleen, and he’d really, really wanted Colleen, enough to move to Milwaukee. Until now, he’d thought that had to be proof he’d achieved the pinnacle of desire.

“It wasn’t as bad as it looked,” she said.

He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet. “There’s a check in there that belongs to you. I’ve already endorsed it.”

She gaped at him. “You’re offering me
money
?”

“It’s not from me. It’s from WellyNelly.” He waved the wallet. “Take it.”

She didn’t, so he threw it at her so he could shift gears. They passed a fast-food place that smelled so good his stomach growled, and he sped past resenting her for being hungry and angry and raging with lust.

It wasn’t in his nature to be all stirred up. He hated stirring. All the muck at the bottom started floating around, muddying the waters, tasting bitter in his mouth.

“I’m not taking your money.”

“You just told me I had to pay for your hotel!”

“I was upset!” She huffed. “Fine. You can pay the difference between what I had and wherever you’re taking me.”

“I’m taking you to my house.”

Her hand grabbed the car door handle again. “Like hell you are.” It popped open.

The light was yellow so he grabbed her thigh and floored it. “Hey!” she cried, hanging on the swinging door, gaping at him. “Are you insane?” She slammed it shut.

“Only since I met you.”

“Well, fuck that. Let go of me.”

His hand was stretched across the warm, rounded flesh of her upper thigh. Without looking at her, he increased the pressure of his fingers, gently, letting the car rock his hand higher between her legs. “I don’t want to.”

“You already made that point,” she said tightly.

He glanced over. What was he doing? “I want you.”

She pulled his hand out, pushed it away. “Join the club. Now drop me off somewhere your rich white boy sensitivities can handle or I’m going to jump out at the light.”

“That’s it?”

Her eyes were wild with annoyance, not desire. “Bossing me around is not a turn-on. There are plenty of women who love it. Go find one of them.” She slammed his wallet on the console between them. “Too bad Blair’s taken.”

“Yeah, too bad,” he snapped.

She stared at him, picked the wallet up again, flipped it open. “This what you’re talking about?” she asked, pulling out the check. He’d had to fold it three times to fit inside his old bifold. “Five thousand dollars. Pretty nice. That your weekly salary or what?”

“A bonus for referring you. Take it. You need it more than I do. Obviously.”

“The last thing I need is for you to think I owe you anything.” She crossed her arms under her breasts, scowling. “Obviously.”

She was impossible. He nearly rammed the bus in front of them when it stopped, beeping and hissing at the curb. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Take it. If you stay a year I get another ten.”

“Ten thousand?
Dollars
?”

He pulled out into traffic and passed the bus. “So if you want to punish me, quit in eleven months and I’m out of luck. In the meantime, take the damn money, get a safe place to live, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“I can’t believe they pay so well.”

“Welcome to the high tech bubble.”

She dropped the wallet again but kept the check. “I’ll pay you back.”

“Whatever.”

“You’re so annoying.” When she tucked the check between her breasts, he felt actual, physical pain. His plan had been to bring her up to the house so she could stay there, use their computer, borrow his mom’s car, carpool with him into work for a few days. She’d be safe, his mother would have some company.

But now it was obvious he was the one desperate for company.

Too desperate.

“I’ll take you to the Holiday Inn,” he said. She didn’t protest.

* * *

She pushed Mark’s office door open without knocking and kicked it shut behind her.
 

“Since you’re in charge of my life,” she said, “tell me which of these apartments is in a good area.” She flung a stack of printouts on his desk, enjoying the way he looked up from his computer with his mouth open.

She noticed he had a piece of toilet paper on his chin, a red dot in the center of it. His hair had dried funny, one side sticking up, and he had a pale shadow of dried milk on his upper lip.

Her heart softened. That was more like it, she thought, the nice guy she thought he was, not the macho bully from Monday evening.

He looked down at the papers. Frowned at the one on top. “Nope,” he said. Picking up the stack, he leaned back in his chair to flip through the rest while Rose waited.

“Well?”

He shook his head. “You couldn’t find anything up in the hills?”

“Please. Only rich people live up there. And I like to be more in the middle of things so I can walk places. Restaurants, shops, cafes, theaters—you know, where the people are.”

“Huh.” He nodded as though that had never occurred to him, looked back down at the papers in his hands. “These all suck.” He dropped them on the desk.

“There were twenty apartments on that!”

“What about that place in North Berkeley you told me about? That sounded nice.”

“Gone.”

“So, wait for another one.”

“There aren’t any.” Though the Holiday Inn he’d inflicted on her was an improvement over the no-tell motel, she hated the street noise, the lack of privacy, not having a kitchen, being in limbo. She went over and picked up her printouts. “What’s wrong with these? You barely looked at them.”

“I can just tell.”

“How?”

He shrugged, turned at his computer monitor. “Just can.”

For at least ten seconds she watched him in silence. When it was clear he wasn’t going to elaborate, or even look at her, she said, “Busy?”

He nodded.

“Sorry to interrupt.” She moved to the door. “I only showed you because you seemed determined to interfere. I won’t bother you again.”

He didn’t look up as she moved into the hallway. Then he said, “Hey, how’s your car?”

“It’s fine now. I had it towed down the street.”

“They fixed it?”

“For an arm and a leg and my firstborn son, yes.”

He went back to his computer. “You should sign up for roadside assistance.”

“I will. Thanks.” She stared at him another second before closing the door.

What the hell? One minute he was chasing and kissing her, the next he couldn’t even be bothered to look away from his computer.

Just as well. It was a mistake to get too close. Their early friendship had crossed a line and there was no going back.

She’d find an apartment by herself. Why’d she asked him, anyway?

He obviously didn’t care.

* * *

Mark let out the breath he was holding.

Rubbing his face with both hands, trying to wipe away the image of her in a yellow sweater, this one long and loose but not loose enough to hide that body, he swore.

He never should’ve lent her the jumper cables. That’s when it all began to go wrong. If only he could rewind. He’d be in his room, safe and quiet, watching Blair with twenty feet, two walls, and double-paned glass between them.

The door popped open, sending his pulse racing again, but it was only Sylly. “Hey. Got a minute?” Without waiting for a reply he marched in and strode over to the desk. “You all right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Sylly frowned. “You’re kind of pink.”

“I’m not feeling well.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Maybe you should try leaving your door open like you’re supposed to. Get some fresh air.”
 

Mark nodded. “That’s probably it.”

“Or maybe you’re on social overload.”

“That’s definitely it. Can I go home, boss?”

Sylly raised an eyebrow. “You’re backing out of our deal already? It’s only her second week.”

“But you like her, right? You see why I recommended her.”

“It’s early to say yet, but the team likes her well enough. If Jake can keep his eyes above her neck, they’ll be fine.” Sitting on the edge of Mark’s desk, Sylly studied his fingernails. “So, how do you think she’ll feel about getting an MBA? Think she’d be up for that?”

“I have no idea. Why would you care if she had an MBA?”

“Not me. Our new corporate overlords.” Jumping up, Sylly took over the computer and typed in a web address. “What do you think of these guys?”

Mark frowned at the homepage for a major drug company. “No way. That would suck.”

“Don’t be so sure. They’re sharp, really sharp. I’ve had a few really interesting conversations with these guys.”

“Big pharma? Buying WellyNelly? You’re not serious.”

“Not yet, but
they
are. They want to fold us into their operation. They were going to develop their own systems before they realized how hard it was. Now they’re thinking we’d be a package deal, ready to go.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No, they really do.”

“No, I mean, you can’t really be considering this. They’re a drug company. A business. They make money off of sick people.”

“And we don’t?”

Mark felt queasy. “That’s different.”

“It’s America, buddy. I knew you’d be against it, but give it a few days. No rush. Really think it over.”

“There’s nothing to think about. This is
WellyNelly
. They’ll push their own patented meds for every ailment, big and small—”

“They already do that and it wasn’t getting them the traffic they want. Migrating over to WellyNelly will give them access to customers without having to advertise so obviously. They like us as we are, Mark. Really. Warts and all.”