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Leeza’s voice reached her from the other side of the curtain. “Marlys, you need to take this. And don’t forget you’ve got that appointment in fifteen minutes.”
Marlys’s gaze jerked from the necklace to Dean. “I have things I’ve got to do.”
“I understand.”
He would never understand. But really, she couldn’t do this. That pendant proved the point. She couldn’t, wouldn’t fall in love with this man and she couldn’t, wouldn’t, let him fall in love with her.
He kissed her forehead, then looped the chain around her wrist.
“Wear this for me tonight, angel. When I get to your house, I’ll take it off. Before we make love, I’ll take all your tears away.”
Oh, God. She had to figure out something to stop both.
There could be no love.
There would be no tears.
Seventeen
If it is your time, love will track you down like a cruise missile.
—LYNDA BARRY
Blackie went ballistic when the doorbell rang as he always did. Marlys’s heart reacted in the same way, slamming against her breastbone as she left her bedroom and made her way down the stairs. Before touching the doorknob, she cinched the belt of her robe more tightly. Then, with a last deep breath, she pulled open the door.
The dog rushed forward and his rambunctious greeting pushed Dean back a step, though he stayed well within the bright glow of the porch light. Then the man spoke in his usual firm tone, and Blackie obeyed, sitting as ordered, his gaze on his god’s face. His furry body shivered with delight.
Dean grinned over Blackie’s head at Marlys and she had to accept that he hadn’t turned ugly in the few hours they’d been apart. There was the same studly soldier’s body, the gleaming dark hair, the silver eyes. They narrowed, his smile dying, and then his gaze roamed over her, from her mussed hair and smudged lipstick, to the hint of bare legs exposed by the gap in her long flannel robe.
“I was planning on taking you out to dinner,” he said.
She swallowed to lubricate her dry throat. “I’m not exactly dressed in my restaurant duds.”
His gaze flicked over her again and he leaned a shoulder against the jamb. “Yeah, I see that. Everything okay?”
“Dandy.” She took a quick glance over her shoulder and wiped her sweaty palms along her flannel-covered thighs. “I just, uh, sorta lost track of time.”
“No problem. Why don’t I go out and get some food for us to eat here. Thai okay?”
Marlys hadn’t expected this to be so hard. The first part of her plan had been nothing, she’d divorced her mind from what was happening by thinking instead of how much safer she’d be when it was over. But damn, it wasn’t over yet, and looking at Dean, at his handsome face and honest expression—
“No Thai?” he asked.
Helpless, she shook her head. There wasn’t going to be a meal. Any second now he’d look at her with disgust instead of puzzlement and she’d go back to her man-free, emotionally strong life.
“My choice, then,” Dean said.
“S-sure.” It was going to be his choice. She’d known her unwanted but undeniable attachment to him meant that she couldn’t have walked away, so she’d manipulated the situation to provide herself with the opportunity and him with the means to make the cold, clean break.
Except, God, it didn’t feel clean at all. It felt dirty. She felt dirty. Her stomach roiled and placing her palm over it, she glanced up the stairs again. Shit, what was taking so long?
When she turned back, Dean was looking up the stairway, too, but there wasn’t anything to see. Yet.
Damn it all.
Straightening, he shoved one hand in his pocket and she heard keys jangle. “I’m off then—”
“No!” He couldn’t leave now. He’d miss the show and she was certain she’d never manage a repeat performance. “No. Just a minute…”
And then it came. The sound of footsteps jogging down the carpet-covered stairs, the little jaunty whistle that used to make her nuts, but now just made her queasy.
“There you are!” Pharmaceutical Phil said, in the happy tones of a man who’d gotten lucky without having to work for it. His hair was damp from his shower—God, she’d forgotten how annoyingly long he liked his showers—and he had his suit jacket hooked over one finger. “I left my tie somewhere.”
Marlys moved her gaze to Dean’s face. “Try the kitchen counter.”
“Good idea.” Phil’s stride hitched as he suddenly seemed to realize there was someone in her doorway. “Uh, hey.”
“Hello.” There wasn’t a hint of heat or ice in Dean’s response, but when no one moved to make introductions, Phil continued on his way, jaunty whistle restarting.
