Frisky Business (17 page)

She looked down at him. “Sorry, Magoo.”

He licked her knee in response, thumping his tail on the floor in an excited drumbeat.

Marley turned back to her reflection, pleased to see her hair looked sexily sleep-tousled instead of like she’d stuck her head in a food processor.

She glanced through the window beside the door, and her pleasure faded a little. It wasn’t Will on the doorstep. It wasn’t Curtis either, so that was a plus.

She looked down at Magoo. “No humping. Got it?”

Magoo thumped his tail twice on the wood floor and licked Marley’s knee.

Marley sighed and flung open the door to greet the bike mechanic she’d met the day before.

“Hey there,” she said a little warily.

A slow, sexy smile spread across his face, and Marley’s disappointment ebbed a little. He had broad shoulders, great arms, and the spread-legged stance of a man at ease in his own skin. He raised one hand, and for a moment Marley thought he was going to touch her cheek.

Instead, he pulled off his sunglasses to reveal what Marley felt fairly certain fit the textbook definition of “bedroom eyes.” They were warm and brown and quite possibly capable of seeing right through her robe.

“Surprise,” he said, gesturing behind him to reveal Marley’s bicycle. “Turns out I had all the parts in stock. I worked late last night and got it all fixed up for you.”

Magoo flopped down at Marley’s feet and yawned, seemingly unimpressed.

“Wow,” Marley said, reaching out to touch the gearshift. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much, um—”

“Brian,” he said and stuck out his hand. Marley took it, half expecting him to drop a kiss across her knuckles instead of shaking it.

“I’m Marley.”

“I know. Your name and address were on the form.” He smiled again, still holding her hand. “I know you said you didn’t need to have the bike delivered, but I had some other deliveries to make in the neighborhood and I remembered how eager you were to get your hands on it.”

“I… I was. Eager. To, um, get my hands on it.”

Gawd, Marley
, she thought, drawing her hand back at last.
Idiot.

“Thank you,” she said again, grateful she’d stashed April’s loaner bike in the garage so it wasn’t too obvious she’d already solved her bike dilemma. It was nice to have her own bike, and so quickly.

“I really appreciate this,” she said. “What do I owe you for the rush charge and the delivery?”

He gave her a dismissive wave and grinned. “Happy to do it. No extra charge at all.”

“Coffee?” she blurted, then hoped he didn’t accept. She had to be at work in an hour, and she was still in her robe with several patches of flesh still flushed with Will’s beard burn.

At the thought of Will, Marley felt her pulse kick up two notches. She pulled the robe tighter around her body and took a deep breath, pushing Will’s face to the back of her brain.

“I’ll take a rain check on the coffee,” Brian said. “I have three other deliveries to make this morning.”

“Of course, I understand. If you wouldn’t mind propping it right there against the rail, I’ll put it in the garage as soon as I’m dressed.”

His eyes dropped to the opening of her robe, and he grinned. “Sorry about showing up so early,” he said, not looking the least bit sorry. “I didn’t want to miss you before you went to work, and I remembered you really wanted the bike quickly.”

“No worries, I needed to be up anyway. Normally I’m up really early—like five or six—but yesterday was kind of a long day and then it was a
really
long night and—”

Stop
talking, Marley. Stop talking.

Marley bit her lip and looked at Brian. He wore a plaid flannel shirt with grease on one sleeve and a concert T-shirt underneath. His abs were gym-chiseled beneath the cotton, and the stubble of his goatee looked deliberately manicured. He smiled and Marley couldn’t help but notice his teeth looked professionally whitened.

He was definitely not Will. That was a good thing, right?

“Would you like to have dinner sometime?” Marley blurted. “My treat. I mean, as a thank you for fixing my bike so fast.”

Brian laughed and ran his fingers through his sun-streaked brown hair. “And here I was trying to think of a good way to ask you out without seeming like a douche-nozzle who only fixes your bike to get a piece.” He frowned. “Pardon my language.”

“It’s okay,” Marley interjected, eager to cut him off so she could maintain her lust buzz. “So, dinner then?”

“That would be awesome. Anyplace in particular?”

“I’m new to town. What do you recommend for something casual, maybe a good happy hour or something?”

“Someplace downtown, maybe. 900 Wall has a killer happy hour from four to six. Are you free Friday night?”

“I can make that work.”

Brian grinned. “How about I pick you up around five and we’ll see how things unfold from there.”

“It’s a date,” Marley said, wondering if it was. She studied Brian again, committing his positive qualities to memory. Manager of a bike shop, athletic, nice smile, bike grease on his knuckles—

“So I’ll see you later,” he said, putting his sunglasses back on and giving her a wicked grin. He stooped down to scratch Magoo behind the ears. “You too, doggie.”

Magoo sniffed Brian’s hand and gave it a tentative lick. Then he put his head back down on Marley’s bare foot.

Marley watched Brian amble off down her driveway, his practiced swagger showcasing a bike-toned backside. “Thanks again for the rush job on the bike,” she called.

“No worries,” he called back as he popped open the door on an aging van with the bike shop logo on the side. He turned and winked. “Catch you later.”

Marley closed the door and stood there for a moment not moving. It was partly that she didn’t have the heart to nudge Magoo’s head off her foot, but she also needed a moment to digest things. Had she really just asked Brian out? Was that really a good idea?

“Yes,” she told herself.

Magoo lifted his head and pricked one floppy ear.

“Come on, Magoo. Time to take a shower.”

Magoo sighed and heaved himself up off the floor. Marley turned and ambled down the hall with Magoo trotting obediently behind her.

When she reached the master bath, she dropped her robe on the floor. Magoo promptly curled up on it, yawning as he maneuvered his body into the shape of a lumpy donut.

Marley studied her body in the mirror, turning from side to side for a better view. There was no physical evidence of her wild romp with Will. The beard burn had mostly faded, and there were no lasting love bites, no handprints anywhere on her skin.

A
good
thing, right?

So why could she still feel him everywhere?

With a sigh, Marley turned and twisted the taps off the shower, determined to scrub Will out of her mind and off her body.

“Will is not the man for you,” she said out loud, adjusting the water pressure to fine needles of spray.

“No more rich boys,” she added. “No supervisors thinly disguised as father figures. No guys with stupid trust issues. Just a nice, normal man for once.”

Like
Brian.

She smiled at the thought. Brian with his nice smile and grease-flecked knuckles and floppy brown hair. Brian with his bedroom eyes and blue-collar job. She lathered her hair, rinsing and conditioning and scrubbing as she thought about her upcoming date with him.

It was totally worth shaving her legs.

“A good guy,” she said aloud with a final flick of her razor. “A normal guy. That’s what you need.”

“Marley?”

She jumped at the sound of her dad’s voice on the other side of the door. His knuckles rapped the wood, and Marley jumped again, banging her knee on the tile soap dish.

“You okay in there?” her father called. “I thought I heard you talking to someone.”

Marley sighed and dropped her razor in the soap dish, dipping her leg in the spray for a final rinse. She twisted the tap off with one hand and reached for a towel with the other.

“I’m fine, Dad,” she yelled back, dragging the terrycloth over her damp skin. “Just talking to myself. A career pep talk, you know?”

There was a long pause. “Where’s Curtis?”

Marley rolled her eyes and wrapped the towel around her head turban-style. She tugged her robe out from under Magoo’s body, ignoring her dog’s grunt of protest. Pulling the robe on, she belted it around her waist before yanking open the bathroom door.

“Welcome back, Dad. How was your trip?”

“Fine, fine,” he said, looking over Marley’s head to the interior of the bathroom.

Marley sighed. “Curtis isn’t here. Did you put him up to that stupid stunt with the ring?”

Her father’s eyes snapped back to her face, and he gave his best look of fake surprise. “Curtis gave you a new ring?”

Marley rolled her eyes. “You know he gave me a new ring. Or at least tried to. I wasn’t interested. Not then, not now. It’s over between us.”

“Maybe if you just give him a chance—”

“I gave him a chance,” she interrupted. “I gave him plenty of chances, before I realized he just isn’t the right guy for me. Come on, Dad. You of all people should realize what a bad idea it is to marry the wrong person.”

Her father sighed. “I just want you happy, Marley. And safe. And well cared for.”

“I want those things too. I just don’t think I need a man with money to give them to me.”

“Fair enough. But if you change your mind, Curtis is still in town. He’s staying in the condo over in the Old Mill District.”

“I’m not changing my mind. I mean it.” Marley cinched her robe tighter around her waist. “Was there something else you needed?”

He nodded and leaned against the door frame. “Just letting you know there’s a plumber stopping by in about ten minutes to fix that leak in the kitchen sink.”

“A plumber?”

Walter frowned. “Don’t get any ideas, Marley. I know you’re on this quest to date blue-collar men, but really—”

“I promise not to pounce on the plumber, Dad.” She grinned. “Or walk naked through the kitchen pretending I can’t find my robe. Or seduce him by asking him to snake my pipes. Or—”

“That’s enough.” He smiled and shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You’re going to promise not to harass my date when he shows up Friday night.”

“Date? It’s not with that delivery guy who brought the rabbit, is it?”

Marley sighed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I’m going out with a guy who runs a brothel.”

“A brothel?”

“It’s actually a bike shop. But I thought if I started a little lower on the spectrum, your disdain wouldn’t be so pronounced.”

Walter folded his arms over his chest. “Marley, I don’t know what you’re trying to prove with this quest to date low-class men.”

“Low-class? What is it with the men in my life suddenly sounding like Southern gentleman from 1850? You and Curtis could do a historical reenactment.”

“Just be careful, Marley. Take things slowly, okay?”

“I will, I promise. Can you throw me that dress over there?”

“If it will prevent you from greeting the plumber naked, then yes.”

Her dad turned and grabbed the purple sweater dress off the corner of the dresser. Marley reached for the garment just as she noticed what lurked beneath it. Her father spotted the wallet at the same time she did and picked it up. He looked at Marley and raised one eyebrow.

“Carrying a man’s wallet now?”

Marley grimaced. It was definitely a man’s wallet, and she was pretty sure she knew whose. The duct tape was a dead giveaway.

“Yes,” Marley said, stretching to grab it from him. “Men’s wallets are the hot new female accessory of the season.”

Her dad nodded at a spot behind the door. “Men’s underwear, too?”

Marley started to grimace again, then stopped herself. “Nice try, Dad. He didn’t take his underwear off last night.”

Her father folded his arms over his chest. “
He
? I thought the wallet was yours. So much for taking things slowly.”

“Good-bye, Dad. I have to get ready for work.”

He shook his head. “You’re the worst liar in the world, Marley.”

Marley bit her lip.
Maybe
not
the
worst
liar…

“See you later, Dad.”

“Have a good day at work,” her dad said, turning away. “Will I see you afterward?”

She shook her head. “I’m heading out with the realtor to see a few more properties. With any luck, I’ll have a new place lined up by the end of the week.”

“You know you can stay here as long as you want.”

“I know,” she said. “But what I want is to move on.”

“Fair enough,” he said, and closed the door behind him.

***

Will was in the middle of prying the
William
Barclay
V
plaque off the bench in the lobby at Cheez Whiz when his sister came flouncing by.

“Destroying furniture again?” she asked, picking up his screwdriver off the end of the bench.

“You say destroying, I say improving,” he said.

“Potato, po-tah-toe,” she parroted. “Nice hickey on the side of your neck, by the way.”

Will reached up and touched the side of his throat, conscious of Bethany’s eyes on him. “Where?”

“Nowhere. I just wanted to know if there’s the possibility you
could
have a hickey so I have some idea where things stand with you and Marley.”

Will dropped his hand and grabbed the screwdriver from his sister. “We’re friends,” he said, pleased with the certainty in his own voice.

“Sure, whatever you say.” Bethany plopped down on the bench and reached out to catch the first screw as Will dropped it. Will caught sight of the small hourglass tattoo on her wrist and felt a sharp twist in his chest. He and Bethany had gotten the matching design years ago to honor their mom, whose favorite soap opera was
Days
of
Our
Lives.
They’d watched it together when Will was small, curled on his mother’s lap with Bethany snuggled beside them in her favorite green afghan and a bowl of fresh blueberries tucked between them in a chipped orange bowl.