“Sorry,” came a muffled voice many feet above her. “Nice buns, though.”
“Thanks,” Ellie mumbled without looking up.
Thirty minutes later she sourly joined a large cluster of people waiting to speak to the harried receptionist standing behind the tall white counter. The clinic was a busy little place. Apparently, a crowd had arrived during her attempt to remove most of the paint from her hair in the rusty old bathroom.
After a long wait, she was directed to one of the cracking vinyl-upholstered chairs lining the perimeter of the waiting room. Ellie passed the time leafing through an ancient copy of
Museum Art
,
her hair dripping milky water on the curled pages.
At last her name was called, and she followed a gray-haired, stocky, somber-faced woman to a tiny closet of a room. “I'm Freda,” the woman said defensively, as if Ellie was going to make something of it.
She didn't. “Pleased to meet you.”
Freda looked more like a prison guard than a clinical assistant. After a perfunctory glance over her chart, the woman snatched Ellie's journal and perused the contents with tight lips. After a few moments, her eyes swung up to meet Ellie's. “Impressive,” the woman muttered. “All true?”
Ellie nodded patiently.
“Are you taking the pills exactly as directed?”
“Yes.”
“Any physical symptoms? Changes in energy level or diet?”
Ellie thought for a moment. “My concentration seems diminished, and my appetite has been depressed.” She grinned and patted her stomach. “I've lost two pounds.”
“How about your exercise level?”
Ellie shook her head. “About averageâno change.”
The woman noted Ellie's answers on a form. “Have you become sexually active with any of the men you've mentioned in the journal?”
Ellie squirmed. “No.”
“Have you developed an emotional attachment to any of them?” She skimmed the last journal page with her index finger. “I see the name Mark mentioned quite often.” She peered over her glasses at Ellie.
Clearing her throat, Ellie said, “N-no. Well, maybe.”
“I don't have a checkbox for âmaybe,'” said Freda. “Do you like the man or don't you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“And do you have reason to think he likes you?”
“I'm not sure
like
is the right word. He looks at me in this certain way...”
“Do you feel the pheromone pills have in any way influenced this, er, watchfulness?”
“Yes. I do.”
“In what way?”
Ellie hesitated, then tried to put the situation in words. “He seems to be attracted to me, but confused by it allâlike he doesn't understand why he would be. I've seen him shake his head as if trying to clear it. He told my roommate I have âan effect' on him. And, he and other men keep asking me what kind of perfume I'm wearing. I think I'm emitting some kind of odor.”
Freda leaned toward her, sniffed mightily, then shrugged. “Hmm.” She scribbled notes on the form and turned it over.
“Keep omitting any commercial body fragrances like we instructed. Here's a new supply of pills, and your payment for the week.” She pushed the items toward Ellie and resumed writing.
“I mean, it's nothing serious,” Ellie rambled. “I wouldn't even call it a relationship, really. It would never work between us because he's allergic to my cat and his mother hates me. Of course, I did ruin her family reunion, but that was purely by accident. Besides, if he ever settles down, it'll be with some classy woman, not an unemployed artist. No, it would never work, not in a million years.” Ellie frowned at the woman's silence. “Any advice?” she asked.
Freda didn't bother to look up. “Practice safe sex.”
Â
MANNY LET OUT a long whistle. “Damn, you look good, girl.”
Ellie grinned and smoothed a hand over the short black crepe dress. “Think so?” A froth of pearl-studded cream chiffon floated around the low neckline and spilled over her shoulders. The formfitting dress would have been an impossibility two pounds ago.
“Fabulous,” Manny said cloyingly, then he frowned. “If only we wore the same size.”
“I'll let you borrow the earrings,” she promised, fastening the dangling pearls.
“He must have spent a mint,” he said, picking up the Parmond's garment bag.
Ellie nodded: “What are you doing tonight?”
“I have to do an early show, then Joan's picking me up. We're going to swing by a friend's house for cocktails, then downtown for some real fun. By the way, El, she feels terrible for having to let you go.”
She shrugged. “It was just a job. So tell me, does Joan like men or women?”
“Neither, as far as I can tellâor maybe both. You know how outrageous Joan can beâI think she likes to keep everyone guessing.”
“Well, tell her hello for me, and that the commission is going well. Will you help me gather Esmerelda's things? The cab should be here any minute.”
The cabbie appeared daunted when he saw the cat and all her feline paraphernalia, but when Ellie smiled at him, he softened and began loading the trunk of the car.
“âBye, Cinderella,” Manny said to Ellie before she stepped into the back seat. “Have a good time at the party. But remember to take your pills or you'll turn into my cousin Betty at midnight.”
Â
ELLIE HAD TRIED to visualize Mark's house, but two blocks away from his address, she realized his home would surpass all her expectations. The cabbie pulled up to a two-story, taupe-colored stucco house with elaborate arches and pale cornerstones. The sloping yard was a paradise, the lawn all but completely sacrificed to tall trees, enormous mulch beds and lush leafy plants. Mounds of blooms flowed downhill. A fountain of stacked stone bubbled a stream of water, which fed an aquamarine goldfish pond. Ellie had never seen a more beautiful sight.
“Are you sure this is the place?” she breathed.
“Sure as shootin'.” The driver nodded. “Nice spread, eh? Friend of yours?”
“Yes,” she said absently, unable to take her eyes from the house.
“Some guys have all the luck,” he said dismally. “But if you get bored with Richie Rich, my name's Cal, and I get off at ten.” He swung out of the cab and opened her door before she had a chance to respond.
The front door of the house opened. Mark came out and descended the steps to the walkway. He wore dark slacks, a crisp off-white shirt and a mustard-colored tie. He looked absolutely devastating. Ellie alighted from the cab and smiled toward him. She could detect the clean scent of his cologne as he neared her. Esmerelda struggled for release to inspect the fish, but Ellie held on tight. “Hi,” she said.
“Hi.” He smiled, and held his hands at his sides, swinging them slightly as if not knowing what to do next.
“Nice house.”
“Thanks. Nice dress.”
“Thanks.”
“Nice bill,” the cabbie spoke up, motioning to Mark.
Mark reached for his wallet and counted off several bills, folded them, then handed them to the man.
The cabbie thanked him and opened the trunk. Mark's eyebrows shot up. “What's all this?”
Ellie stepped to the back of the car. “Esmerelda's things.”
Mark passed a hand over his face. “You've got to be kidding.”
“No,” Ellie said, pointing. “Her bed, litter box, kitty litter, food bowl, water bowl, food, brush, play gym, scratch pole, toys, videosâ”
“Videos?”
“Sureâone shows birds flying around, the other is of fish swimming and splashing. They keep her entertained for hours.”
Mark nodded and pursed his lips. “I see.”
The cabbie started pulling things out and setting them on the sidewalk.
“I wrote down her schedule for you.” Ellie pulled a sheet of paper from her tiny evening bag. “She's got a bladder infection right now, so you'll need to give her medication once a day.” She looked up and recognized impatience on Mark's face. Suddenly he sneezed violently. “We can go over this later,” she said with a weak smile, refolding the sheet.
While Mark made several trips to bring in the cat's accessories, Ellie stood in the two-story slate foyer of his home and stretched her neck to see as much as possible from her vantage point. The open layout and cool colors stole her breath. A large living room stretched to her left, an expansive dining room to her right. His furniture was fairly traditional in design, but light fabrics and colors lifted and extended the rooms.
“Wow,” Ellie said out loud. If she hadn't been sure before that she and Mark Blackwell existed in different worlds, she was convinced now.
Esmerelda yowled and jumped from Ellie's arms, bounding up the stairs. “Esmerelda!” she yelled, then took off after her.
When Mark entered the house with the last armload, he found the foyer empty. “Ellie,” he called, setting the things down on the stairs. He sneezed, and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to blow his nose. “This is unbelievable,” he muttered. “Why did I agree to this?” An implausible answer skated across his mind, but he dismissed it.
When she didn't respond, he walked around the first floor, thinking she might have gone to the bathroom. When he found the door to the downstairs bath ajar, however, he assumed she'd gone upstairs to look around. One of the things that had impressed him the most when she'd asked about his home was that she'd seemed much more interested in his yard than in the grandeur of the house. Mark felt a slight pang of disappointment that she'd been so anxious to check out his digs that she'd helped herself to a tour.
He climbed the stairs, calling her name as he walked room to room. He heard a muffled sound coming from his bedroom and frowned. Not that he hadn't entertained ideas of Ellie seeing the inside of his bedroom, but her forwardness annoyed him slightly.
When he entered his bedroom, he covered his mouth to smother a chuckle, then decided she couldn't hear him, so he laughed out loud, anyway. Ellie Sutherland's very fine-looking rear end stuck straight up in the air, the points of her high heels following suit. He'd pictured her in his bed many times, but never under it. Her head and shoulders were hidden beneath the dust ruffle of his black bed, and she seemed to be saying something, he surmised, to the cat.
After enjoying a full minute of the detectable view, he spoke loudly. “Ellie?”
She raised her head quickly and he heard bone collide with metal. “Darnit!” she yelled, her voice still muffled by all the fabric surrounding her.
Mark laughed again, this time more quietly.
She inched her way backward, out from under the bed, and Mark felt his groin tighten as her hips tested the strength of the dress's seams. He couldn't remember when he'd ever found a woman more appealing than at that very moment.
Her head appeared, her hair wonderfully mussed. She dragged her fingers through it and stood awkwardly, brushing the front of her dress. “I'm sorry,” she said. “Esmerelda jumped out of my arms and ran up here and under your bed. I didn't mean to snoop.” She chewed on her bottom lip, her glorious blue eyes wide with worry. “I think she's scared.”
Her beauty slammed into him with enough power to stagger his senses.
I think I know how the car feels.
“I'll put her things in the guest room down the hall. Will she come out and look for her bed later?”
Ellie nodded. “Probably.”
“Then leave her. How about a drink before we go?”
Ellie smiled at him and his breath caught. “Can I use your bathroom for some repair work first?”
“Sure.” He pointed to the master bath. “I'll meet you downstairs.”
Ellie took a few seconds to glance around his bedroom, impressed at the sheer size of the bed. King-size and sleekly modern, the elevated bed reigned over a huge room lit by a bay window encompassing an entire wall.
She walked into the spacious bathroom and flipped on the light. “Mmm,” she murmured, taking in the tiled floor and large sunken tub. Gold fixtures winked at her from the long double vanity and porcelain sinks. The fragrance of his aftershave lingered. A razor drained on a folded hand towel. Frosted doors encased a shower large enough for a quartet. She could picture Mark showering, soap running down his slick body. She bit her bottom lip and shook her head at the image, then turned to fix her hair.
She gasped at her reflection. Besides her explosive hair, the expensive dress he'd bought her was covered with long cat hairs and carpet fibers. And her lipstick smeared down the corner of her mouth. She groaned, opening her purse and spilling its contents across the counter in her haste. Ellie tugged a brush through her hair, yelping when it skated over the lump fast forming from her encounter with the bed rail. Tears of frustration gathered in her eyes.