this?”
“Sure.” He shrugged, wondering what she could want to write at a time like this. “I don’t have any paper.”
“That’s okay.” Gathering her hair, she twisted and rolled the dark strands and then jammed the pen down into the center of the roll, magically keeping the whole thing in place. “I should be getting back to my car.”
She studied him in the dim light of the half-moon and a streetlamp behind his car. Then, like a lady warrior who hadn’t finished putting on her armor, she retrieved her glasses from her purse and slid them into place on her nose.
Kyle ran a finger along the top of the frames.
“You might as well put a tissue between us for all the good those do.”
“The more barriers the better.” She dug into her handbag again.
“What else do you have in there? A false nose? A burka?” How much more could she distance herself from him? Would he ever have a shot at being with her again or had he already seen as much impulsiveness as she possessed?
She withdrew a folded sheet of paper and handed it to him.
“No. Something else guaranteed to send you running.”
Frowning, he unfolded the heavy stock and saw the fine print of a detailed questionnaire about his dating preferences. It was a matchmaking form, probably standard issue for her clients.
“After what just happened, you’re giving me this?” He’d taken shots to the jaw that had had less impact. “You can’t be serious.”
All traces of the violet-eyed temptress were gone. She straightened in her seat and smoothed her skirt.
“Just in case you change your mind.”
5
MARISSA RETURNED HOME after midnight, her headache now outweighed by a heartache so complex she couldn’t quite put a name to it. Regret, guilt, sexual frustration…a mixed bag of negative emotions she wished she could lock down and forget about.
Quietly, she opened the back door to her mother’s house in west Philly, not all that far from where Kyle had driven her around Chestnut Hill. She had liked being with him. Even before the kissing, she’d enjoyed sitting beside him in his car. He’d taken her for a ride because he’d upset her, a small gesture she’d found endearing.
Then, the kissing had been transporting. There was no other word for the way his touches had inflamed her until she’d been ready to leap across the console and straddle him. She’d been out of her mind for him while he’d been controlled and composed, pulling away so that he wouldn’t take advantage of her mindlessness, apparently.
How mortifying. It had been all she could do to restore order to her hair, let alone resurrect any semblance of pride. Shoving that damn dating questionnaire in his face had been a last-minute attempt to resurrect some boundaries. Self-respect.
Maybe she ought to be dating, after all. Who knew she was so affection-starved that she’d wrap herself around Kyle like a boa constrictor in search of a meal? Perhaps she should try to be objective about making a match for herself. Look for a candidate on paper where all the attractive intangibles didn’t get in the way and cloud her judgment… .
“Marissa?” a frail voice called from the dining room, which they’d converted into a bedroom after her mother’s accident. “What are you doing out of bed, young lady?”
Regretting whatever noise she’d made to disturb her mother, Marissa set her keys on a kitchen counter and stepped out of her shoes before pushing open the swinging door to the dining area in the turn-of-the-century mansion. She nodded to her mother’s caregiver, relieving her from duty.
Surrounded by glossy mahogany paneling that rose three-quarters of the way up the walls, a queen-size bed sat illuminated by a reading light clipped to the headboard. Marissa had lined the walls with guitars and sequined stage costumes in an effort to help her mother remember who she was on a daily basis; a décor built on remnants of a life fragmented by the traumatic brain injury
“Sure.” He shrugged, wondering what she could want to write at a time like this. “I don’t have any paper.”
“That’s okay.” Gathering her hair, she twisted and rolled the dark strands and then jammed the pen down into the center of the roll, magically keeping the whole thing in place. “I should be getting back to my car.”
She studied him in the dim light of the half-moon and a streetlamp behind his car. Then, like a lady warrior who hadn’t finished putting on her armor, she retrieved her glasses from her purse and slid them into place on her nose.
Kyle ran a finger along the top of the frames.
“You might as well put a tissue between us for all the good those do.”
“The more barriers the better.” She dug into her handbag again.
“What else do you have in there? A false nose? A burka?” How much more could she distance herself from him? Would he ever have a shot at being with her again or had he already seen as much impulsiveness as she possessed?
She withdrew a folded sheet of paper and handed it to him.
“No. Something else guaranteed to send you running.”
Frowning, he unfolded the heavy stock and saw the fine print of a detailed questionnaire about his dating preferences. It was a matchmaking form, probably standard issue for her clients.
“After what just happened, you’re giving me this?” He’d taken shots to the jaw that had had less impact. “You can’t be serious.”
All traces of the violet-eyed temptress were gone. She straightened in her seat and smoothed her skirt.
“Just in case you change your mind.”
5
MARISSA RETURNED HOME after midnight, her headache now outweighed by a heartache so complex she couldn’t quite put a name to it. Regret, guilt, sexual frustration…a mixed bag of negative emotions she wished she could lock down and forget about.
Quietly, she opened the back door to her mother’s house in west Philly, not all that far from where Kyle had driven her around Chestnut Hill. She had liked being with him. Even before the kissing, she’d enjoyed sitting beside him in his car. He’d taken her for a ride because he’d upset her, a small gesture she’d found endearing.
Then, the kissing had been transporting. There was no other word for the way his touches had inflamed her until she’d been ready to leap across the console and straddle him. She’d been out of her mind for him while he’d been controlled and composed, pulling away so that he wouldn’t take advantage of her mindlessness, apparently.
How mortifying. It had been all she could do to restore order to her hair, let alone resurrect any semblance of pride. Shoving that damn dating questionnaire in his face had been a last-minute attempt to resurrect some boundaries. Self-respect.
Maybe she ought to be dating, after all. Who knew she was so affection-starved that she’d wrap herself around Kyle like a boa constrictor in search of a meal? Perhaps she should try to be objective about making a match for herself. Look for a candidate on paper where all the attractive intangibles didn’t get in the way and cloud her judgment… .
“Marissa?” a frail voice called from the dining room, which they’d converted into a bedroom after her mother’s accident. “What are you doing out of bed, young lady?”
Regretting whatever noise she’d made to disturb her mother, Marissa set her keys on a kitchen counter and stepped out of her shoes before pushing open the swinging door to the dining area in the turn-of-the-century mansion. She nodded to her mother’s caregiver, relieving her from duty.
Surrounded by glossy mahogany paneling that rose three-quarters of the way up the walls, a queen-size bed sat illuminated by a reading light clipped to the headboard. Marissa had lined the walls with guitars and sequined stage costumes in an effort to help her mother remember who she was on a daily basis; a décor built on remnants of a life fragmented by the traumatic brain injury
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