Love Gone Wild: A Contemporary Romantic Comedy by Michele Bardsley
Authors: Michele Bardsley
Ads: Link
to kiss me."
A door opened and closed. Marissa glanced up and saw two young boys carrying a basketball lean on the railing. "Hey mister, dontcha know it's illegal to have sex in public?"
"We're not having sex." Dane's glower didn't faze the freckled-face kid with shaggy blonde hair. His companion was just as freckled and just as shaggy, except his hair was dark brown. The imp grinned. "Whatcha doin' outside in your underwear then?"
"None of your business, kid. Why don't you go play basketball?"
"Cuz you an' her are blockin' the way."
Dane ushered Marissa up the stairs and toward a door with #71 painted in black above its peephole. "It's all yours, boys."
They pounded down the staircase, then the blonde-haired one stopped and looked up at Dane. "Your purse is really ugly, mister."
His friend laughed and they took off, running like Satan was poking their backsides with a pitchfork.
Marissa pinched her lips together to prevent the laughter bubbling up. Dane looked even grumpier as he silently handed her the purse. Luckily for Dane, his boxers had a back pocket and he extracted his wallet. Marissa wondered if all boxers came with pockets. It seemed on odd feature to put on underwear.
"You keep your keys in your wallet?"
"No. I keep two keys in it. One for the apartment and one for my car." He inserted the key into the lock, opened the door, and ushered her inside. "Always keep spares—you never know what might happen."
"I'll remember that."
Dane opened the door and gestured for Marissa to enter. She stepped into a small living room decorated in dark browns. Scents of vanilla and cinnamon tickled her nose. She expected a more sweat-and-cigar-smoke kind of smell from a bachelor's apartment. Sports memorabilia cluttered tables and shelves; posters and framed photos of various sporting events covered almost available inch of wall space. She rounded the corner of a leather easy chair and stumbled to a stop. "Oh, my heavens!"
Against the far wall, under a huge picture window, was a tan couch. On it, lay a teenaged girl sleeping.
She was dressed in a lacy red teddy.
"Are you hungry? I make a mean cheese ome—" Dane stopped; his gaze followed Marissa's.
At that moment, the girl awoke. She stretched becomingly, her pert breasts straining against the revealing lingerie. She aimed a sleepy smile at Dane. "Hi lover. Where've you been?"
Four
" J ANEY !"
Dane's annoyed tone startled Marissa. Emotions swirled through her. A cold, hard knot formed in her stomach as she watched Dane stomp across the living room, grab an afghan, and throw it around the girl's shoulders.
Surely this girl isn't his lover.
"What the hell are you doing here?" asked Dane in a pissed-off voice.
The girl's gaze assessed Marissa. Her eyes narrowed. "Who's she? Why is she half-naked?"
"Why is she half-naked? Why are you half-naked?" Dane stood about a foot from the girl, his arms crossed, his expression thunderous. He'd apparently forgotten he was in his boxers. "How did you get in here?"
"Don't pretend, lover," purred the girl. "You can tell her about us."
"There is no us. You're just a kid, for God's sake."
"I am not!" The girl flung off the afghan and stood. "I'm a woman. Look at me!"
"I see a little girl playing dress up."
"I'm fifteen." She sauntered to him and pressed against his folded arms; her fingers trailed his biceps. He jumped back like she'd dropped acid on him. "I'm old enough, damn it." Her gaze skittered toward Marissa. "How old is she?"
"I'm twenty-two."
Dane sent her a shut-up look.
"I-I'll be twenty-three in a couple of months," she added lamely.
"Get dressed, Janey."
The girl's lips formed a mutinous pout. "I did everything right. Candles. Dinner. Lingerie."
The girl plopped on the couch, pulled up her knees, and put her arms around her legs. It was a position that suggested vulnerability and a need for protection. Janey was a girl wanting badly to be a woman. Marissa felt a tug of sympathy. She knew well how Janey
A door opened and closed. Marissa glanced up and saw two young boys carrying a basketball lean on the railing. "Hey mister, dontcha know it's illegal to have sex in public?"
"We're not having sex." Dane's glower didn't faze the freckled-face kid with shaggy blonde hair. His companion was just as freckled and just as shaggy, except his hair was dark brown. The imp grinned. "Whatcha doin' outside in your underwear then?"
"None of your business, kid. Why don't you go play basketball?"
"Cuz you an' her are blockin' the way."
Dane ushered Marissa up the stairs and toward a door with #71 painted in black above its peephole. "It's all yours, boys."
They pounded down the staircase, then the blonde-haired one stopped and looked up at Dane. "Your purse is really ugly, mister."
His friend laughed and they took off, running like Satan was poking their backsides with a pitchfork.
Marissa pinched her lips together to prevent the laughter bubbling up. Dane looked even grumpier as he silently handed her the purse. Luckily for Dane, his boxers had a back pocket and he extracted his wallet. Marissa wondered if all boxers came with pockets. It seemed on odd feature to put on underwear.
"You keep your keys in your wallet?"
"No. I keep two keys in it. One for the apartment and one for my car." He inserted the key into the lock, opened the door, and ushered her inside. "Always keep spares—you never know what might happen."
"I'll remember that."
Dane opened the door and gestured for Marissa to enter. She stepped into a small living room decorated in dark browns. Scents of vanilla and cinnamon tickled her nose. She expected a more sweat-and-cigar-smoke kind of smell from a bachelor's apartment. Sports memorabilia cluttered tables and shelves; posters and framed photos of various sporting events covered almost available inch of wall space. She rounded the corner of a leather easy chair and stumbled to a stop. "Oh, my heavens!"
Against the far wall, under a huge picture window, was a tan couch. On it, lay a teenaged girl sleeping.
She was dressed in a lacy red teddy.
"Are you hungry? I make a mean cheese ome—" Dane stopped; his gaze followed Marissa's.
At that moment, the girl awoke. She stretched becomingly, her pert breasts straining against the revealing lingerie. She aimed a sleepy smile at Dane. "Hi lover. Where've you been?"
Four
" J ANEY !"
Dane's annoyed tone startled Marissa. Emotions swirled through her. A cold, hard knot formed in her stomach as she watched Dane stomp across the living room, grab an afghan, and throw it around the girl's shoulders.
Surely this girl isn't his lover.
"What the hell are you doing here?" asked Dane in a pissed-off voice.
The girl's gaze assessed Marissa. Her eyes narrowed. "Who's she? Why is she half-naked?"
"Why is she half-naked? Why are you half-naked?" Dane stood about a foot from the girl, his arms crossed, his expression thunderous. He'd apparently forgotten he was in his boxers. "How did you get in here?"
"Don't pretend, lover," purred the girl. "You can tell her about us."
"There is no us. You're just a kid, for God's sake."
"I am not!" The girl flung off the afghan and stood. "I'm a woman. Look at me!"
"I see a little girl playing dress up."
"I'm fifteen." She sauntered to him and pressed against his folded arms; her fingers trailed his biceps. He jumped back like she'd dropped acid on him. "I'm old enough, damn it." Her gaze skittered toward Marissa. "How old is she?"
"I'm twenty-two."
Dane sent her a shut-up look.
"I-I'll be twenty-three in a couple of months," she added lamely.
"Get dressed, Janey."
The girl's lips formed a mutinous pout. "I did everything right. Candles. Dinner. Lingerie."
The girl plopped on the couch, pulled up her knees, and put her arms around her legs. It was a position that suggested vulnerability and a need for protection. Janey was a girl wanting badly to be a woman. Marissa felt a tug of sympathy. She knew well how Janey
Similar Books
