Читать книгу Until Now - Kayla Perrin, Kayla Perrin - Страница 12

Chapter 4

Tamara awoke startled. Her eyes flew open, suddenly registering that something wasn’t right.

She wasn’t in her bed. She realized that even before her eyes started flitting around the room. No, this four-poster bed was most definitely not her own. Just as panic was about to set in, she remembered that she was in Cleveland, not Fort Lauderdale. Of course she wasn’t in her bed.

But even as she remembered that, the sense that something was wrong persisted. Because she couldn’t remember ever stepping into Callie and Nigel’s house, much less getting under the covers.

And something else was strange. By the way the bedsheet was skimming her body, she could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. She’d been so exhausted that she had taken off her clothes and climbed into bed without even putting on her nightgown?

It was as if her brain had gone blank. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to concentrate. She was in Cleveland. She’d been at Deanna’s wedding, which had been last night. Yes, that was right. Callie had forced her onto the dance floor to participate in the bouquet toss.

Tamara’s eyes popped open. The bouquet. Marshall. Their dance.

Then she’d gone to the restroom, and he’d followed her.

And then, a kiss? She gasped. Oh, God. No, that couldn’t be right.

As her stomach fluttered with the wisp of a memory, she wondered why the house was so quiet. The clock on the night table told her it was 9:18 a.m. Shouldn’t Michael and Kwame be up and making noise?

Tamara surveyed the large bedroom, with its pale green walls, dresser with mirror and...fireplace? Nigel and Callie had a spare bedroom with a fireplace? The TV mounted to the wall was at least forty inches. There was a leather love seat beside the window, and through the sheer drapes she could see a sprawling tree outside.

The room boasted polished hardwood floors. But nowhere upon them did she see her suitcases.

She looked around the room again, this time with a sense of desperation. It was minimalist in terms of the furnishings and the decor. Spotting a framed photo on the far corner of the dresser, her eyes soon widened in alarm.

Was that Marshall?

Where was she?

The next second, her stomach filled with dread as she added up the reality in her mind. Marshall’s picture, the lack of suitcases, the absence of any voices...

No, it couldn’t be...

She couldn’t actually be in Marshall’s bed!

Her brain scrambled to make sense of the situation. The wedding. The reception. Flirting with Marshall.

“Oh, God,” she uttered in horror. She remembered the kiss again. She had kissed him. Oh, yes, that had definitely happened. She remembered her mouth connecting with his full lips. It hadn’t been the longest kiss, but she felt it throughout her entire body.

What had happened after that kiss?

And why was she in his bed without her clothes on?

“God, please tell me I didn’t. Please tell me I didn’t do something incredibly stupid!”

But she was beginning to fear that she had. If she had come into this bed merely to sleep, wouldn’t her dress be neatly draped over that rocking chair? She couldn’t see it anywhere.

Finally, she bent her head to look over the side of the bed. And her mortification intensified. Because there was her dress, in a heap on the floor. As though it had been discarded haphazardly.

“I can’t possibly be...”

And then for some reason, she craned her neck to look over her shoulder. And on the wall she saw a photo of Marshall with his parents and brother. A family portrait.

There was no longer any doubt. She was in Marshall’s house.

In his room.

In his bed.

Her horror level reached a 10.0 on the Richter scale.

Oh God, oh God, oh God! What have I done?

The house was still quiet, and Tamara prayed that Marshall was in a bathroom somewhere. If she could get up quietly, she could sneak out of the house.

She threw the covers off of the queen-size bed and slipped her legs over the side. As her feet came down on the floor, the hardwood squeaked. She winced, hoping that she didn’t get Marshall’s attention—wherever he was in the house. Because she had to get out of there without him knowing.

She didn’t even know where he lived in relation to Callie and Nigel, but she would find her way somehow. Maybe Marshall was the type who had to work out every morning, and that was where he was now. If so, all the better.

She couldn’t face him.

She’d been in his bed. And she knew what Marshall did with women in his bed. Even if she hadn’t heard the salacious stories, the fact that her dress had been tossed onto the floor spoke volumes.

But why couldn’t she remember anything? Somehow, she had lost time. She remembered... She remembered nothing. The kiss, yes.

But certainly not a hot night between the sheets.

She quickly scooped her dress up from the floor and slipped it onto her body. Then she reached for the zipper on the side and pulled it up. The mauve dress with swirls of white had looked incredibly sexy on her when she’d put it on, and that had been what she’d needed. As a newly divorced woman, she’d wanted to look feminine and desirable.

And she had—to Marshall. Had this very dress led her down the path of temptation and into this dilemma? She had wanted to reclaim her womanhood. Had she done that and more?

And with Marshall, of all people?

Tamara opened the bedroom door and peered into the house at large, finding that she was in the hallway. On the opposite side she saw that the door to another bedroom was open. It was much larger, with a king-size poster bed, and far more photos on the wall. Clearly, that was Marshall’s master bedroom.

Realizing that she hadn’t been in his bed should have given her comfort. But it didn’t. Because his bed was immaculately spread and didn’t look as though it had been slept in last night.

She swallowed and then stepped to her left, toward the top of a staircase. The staircase opened up to a two-story ceiling, with a large skylight. Sunlight flooded into the house, almost like a spotlight on her as she made her way down the stairs. The steps creaked, and she tried to tiptoe without making much sound but it was pointless.

Where was Marshall? In another bedroom? She didn’t hear the shower.

The house appeared massive, with a huge great room off of the foyer. She could see the brown-leather sectional, with decorative throw pillows, in front of a wall that housed a television that looked to be sixty inches. As she stepped onto the first-floor landing, she could see part of a dining-room table in a room that sprang from the left of the foyer. The wood was black, probably black maple, and the room had majestic gold-colored curtains topped with cream swags. It was the kind of house Tamara would love to explore, but given the circumstances, she just wanted to get out as quickly as possible.

Tamara’s feet were cold on the marble floor, but thank God her silver stiletto sandals were neatly sitting on a mat near the door. And she saw her purse on the table in the foyer. At least she would have her phone to call for a taxi and money to pay for it.

A house like this would have an alarm, and she only prayed that it wasn’t currently set. The small alarm panel was closer to the door, so she hurried over to it and perused it, determining with relief that it didn’t appear to be activated.

She bent over and slipped her bare foot into one shoe. She was putting on the second shoe when the door began to open. Her heart spasmed.

In walked Marshall. As though he had walked into his house to greet her in the morning countless times, he smiled an easy, charming smile. Was that the smile he had used last night to get what he wanted?

“You’re up,” he said. And then a little frown marred his face. “Where are you going?”

“I—I have to leave. My son—Michael—he’ll be... God, I can’t believe this.”

She was flustered, and she couldn’t form coherent words. The last thing she wanted was to be heading back to Callie’s place the morning after some sort of scandalous night with Marshall. Her son would wonder where she had been, and what could she tell him?

Lord, this was a nightmare.

“I picked up some breakfast,” Marshall told her. “I didn’t have anything decent in the house. I bought some egg sandwiches from a local deli. A few varieties, since I didn’t know what you liked. I got coffee, too.” He lifted the tray in his hands, in case she somehow hadn’t seen it.

“I’m not hungry.”

“It’s never a good idea to skip breakfast,” Marshall said.

“Thank you for...” She stiffened. For what? “I—I need to get to my son.”

“You can’t take a few minutes to eat breakfast with me?” His eyes narrowed slightly, saying he was more than a little confused as to why she wanted to get out of his house so fast.

She supposed she could understand why he was confused. Most women probably didn’t run screaming from him the morning after a night spent in his bed.

But she wasn’t most women. And clearly, she wasn’t even herself. She had no memory of what had happened at all, which made it much worse.

“I’m sorry,” Tamara said. “I’d rather just leave.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I need to get to my son. This is not how I planned our first night in Cleveland to be.” She was flustered. She stared up at him, her chest rapidly moving with each breath. “But thank you. Thank you for the coffee and the breakfast sandwich.”

“Are you okay?” Marshall asked.

That was a loaded question. How could she be okay? She didn’t know what she’d done with him, but she could only imagine the worst. She didn’t dare ask him, like some fool who ended up in a man’s bed with no recollection of it. Obviously, she’d had too much alcohol and had somehow passed out.

She forced a smile but barely met his gaze. “I’m fine. I’ll take the coffee and sandwich with me for later, if you don’t mind.”

Marshall nodded. “Sure. Though I’m a little disappointed that you want to get away from me so quickly this morning.”

Again, the smile. This time a little devilish. Tamara’s stomach sank.

She’d slept with him. It was obvious now. The look in his eyes, she knew she had.

Oh, God.

Tamara took a coffee from the tray. “I’ll just call for a taxi. No need for you to take me to Callie and Nigel’s place.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll drive you.”

Tamara felt a bout of anxiety. She wanted to escape Marshall, not be confined in a closed space with him. “It’s perfectly fine. You’ve already...done enough.”

“Their house is in Shaker Heights, about a fifteen-minute drive,” he told her. “Honestly, how long will it take a taxi to get here when you call? I’ll just take you.”

Tamara hadn’t thought of that, and certainly it didn’t make sense to sit or stand inside or on the porch for possibly ten minutes or longer for a taxi to arrive. She would love nothing more than to simply flee, start walking anywhere, but she’d caught sight of his sprawling circular driveway when he’d opened the door. Heck, it would probably take her five minutes to get off of his property—where on earth would she walk to?

As much as she wanted to be away from Marshall, taking him up on his offer for a ride seemed the best thing to do.

“As long as you don’t have anything else to do,” Tamara said, resigned to her fate.

“I’m all yours.”

Tamara cringed at the words, wondering if they held special meaning for him. Then she opened the cutout in her coffee lid and sipped it.

“I got it with a little cream and a little sugar,” Marshall explained. “I didn’t know how you would like it.”

“This is fine.” She stepped toward the front door. “I don’t want to rush you, but if you’re ready to leave...”

“Sure.”

Tamara stepped out the door, which was almost flush with the ground, then waited for Marshall to join her. “Hold this for me?” he asked, offering her the bag with the sandwiches and the coffee tray.

Tamara took the items while he closed the door. She checked out the breadth of his shoulders, clad in a T-shirt this morning, and she noted that he was just as sexy in casual wear as he had been in his suit yesterday.

He turned to face her, and she quickly averted her eyes.

He took the coffee and bag from her and then started toward the car with an easy and sexy gait. Tamara followed him to the sleek, black BMW. She didn’t remember being in it last night, but she must have been.

What else had she done?

Marshall opened the passenger door for her, then went around and got in on the driver’s side. Tamara was about to get into the car when she saw a cushion on the seat covered with blond hair.

“What?” Marshall asked, looking up at her.

“Is that dog hair?”

Marshall grabbed the cushion and tossed it into the backseat. “Sorry, yeah.”

Tamara looked around anxiously, half expecting some giant fur ball to be lunging toward her. “You have a dog?”

“It’s a buddy’s dog. He’s gone for the weekend, asked me to check in on him. So I picked Sherlock up this morning and took her to the park so she could run laps with me.”

Tamara still stood there, not getting into the car.

“I already brought Sherlock home,” Marshall said. “What, you don’t like dogs?”

“Not particularly,” Tamara admitted. She had delivered flyers as a teen. More than one dog had chased her or barked savagely at her.

“Well, Sherlock’s at home.” Marshall dusted the leather seat to get any stray dog hairs off. “Will you just get in the car?”

With a sigh, Tamara did just that. Marshall then started the car, and loud hip-hop immediately blared through the speakers. Marshall reached for the volume control and turned it down.

Tamara said nothing, just sipped her coffee as a way of avoiding having to speak. She was desperate to find out what had happened the night before, and also terrified. She knew it was very likely that she had behaved inappropriately, but she was embarrassed to ask.

Perhaps there was a part of her that needed that kind of wild encounter with someone to help make her feel desirable again. It had been a while since she’d been with any man. And as much as it was clearly out of character for her to engage in a one-night stand, obviously, on some level, she’d needed to get it on with someone.

“So,” Marshall began, “did you have a good time yesterday?”

Tamara’s stomach twisted. Was he talking about the wedding? Or afterward? Tamara looked at him briefly and then averted her gaze. “If you mean at the wedding,” she said pointedly, “yes, it was lovely.”

“What do you think I mean?” Marshall asked.

“I—I don’t... I didn’t...” Tamara’s voice trailed off.

“I’m a trained investigator,” Marshall told her. When Tamara glanced at him, she saw that he was giving her a curious look. “It’s obvious there’s something else on your mind.”

Tamara said nothing.

“Tamara?” She could feel Marshall’s eyes on her. “Why don’t you tell—”

“Look,” she interrupted him, releasing a heavy breath as she stared at him. “I’ll make this clear. Whatever happened last night, it can’t happen again. I mean, here I am in your car after a night at your house that I don’t even remember. This isn’t like me. I do—” She faltered. “I do remember kissing you. And then...I wake up half-naked in your bed?”

Marshall’s eyes widened, as though intrigued. “You don’t remember what happened?”

“No. Which tells me I obviously wasn’t in my right mind. And you...you should have known better, even if I didn’t.”

“So that’s why you seem on edge,” he said, sounding as though he finally got it.

For someone who touted himself as a trained investigator, he was also a little dense.

“Of course that’s why I’m on edge,” Tamara responded, her words a little harsher than she’d intended. “I’m not the kind of woman you typically date.”

“How would you know the kind of woman I typically date?”

“It’s obvious.”

“Really?” Marshall sounded amused. “How is it obvious?”

Tamara had started something, something she wished she hadn’t. She should have just kept her mouth shut. Moved on from the mistake of the night before and forgotten it ever happened.

“Come on. You say something like that, you’ve got to explain yourself. I met you last night. How on earth can you act as if you know me?”

“Didn’t you start off at the wedding with someone else?” Tamara raised an eyebrow as if she had just scored a match point.

“My cousin, Renee. I told you that.”

“Right,” Tamara scoffed. “She looked like she just came from the Playboy mansion.”

“She is beautiful. And she’s also my cousin. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

Tamara glanced at Marshall. He appeared truthful. Which only made her feel even dumber than getting so drunk the night before that she didn’t remember a thing.

But the truth was, she knew of Marshall’s reputation. He could pretend to be a choirboy, and maybe he had changed, but life had taught her that people didn’t just transform into better versions of themselves. She had married Patrick, ignoring his early bouts of jealousy, thinking he would calm down once he felt secure with the reality that she was his wife. Instead, Patrick’s behavior had only intensified.

Marshall had always had a reputation as being a ladies’ man, and she didn’t imagine that that would have changed throughout the years. The fact that she’d ended up at his house, in his bed, did more to prove he was the same man he’d been thirteen years ago.

“The fact that you took me home last night speaks volumes,” Tamara said.

“Does it, now?” Marshall asked.

“In my state of mind? Of course it does.” She still didn’t understand how she’d gotten so drunk, but that was a moot point now. “But I’m just letting you know that whatever happened, it was a one-time thing. I’m not the sort of woman who hooks up with men for one-night stands. That is totally not me.”

Marshall nodded slowly. “I see.”

“I suspect that’ll suit you just fine anyway,” she added in a voice that was almost a whisper.

“Excuse me?”

With a huge sense of relief, Tamara started to recognize her old neighborhood. “Oh, thank God. We’re almost there.”

“Can’t wait to get away from me,” Marshall commented, sounding as though he was speaking to himself. “I guess I should be offended.”

Tamara didn’t respond, just sipped her coffee. She wished she could be out of the car already.

Away from Marshall.

Maybe it was better that she had no recollection of last night. Even if all she and Marshall had done last night was fool around a little, it was still too much for her liking. Not knowing the details, she could pretend that nothing had happened.

Sure, it wasn’t the most mature way to look at things, but she didn’t particularly feel like being an adult about this. Because as she neared Callie and Nigel’s house, she was wondering how on earth she was going to explain herself to her son and to her friends.

Minutes later, Marshall slowed and turned into the driveway of Callie and Nigel’s home and pulled up behind Tamara’s car. Yesterday, between the wedding and the reception, Tamara had followed Callie to the house when she’d brought the boys to the sitter, and they had gone to the reception hall in one car. Tamara was extremely grateful she’d had the foresight to do that, which saved her from having to head back to the reception hall this morning.

As Marshall put the car into Park, Tamara began to undo the seat belt immediately. But as she reached to open the door with her other hand, Marshall took her gently by the wrist.

She looked at him. “What are you doing?”

“You don’t want to ask me what happened last night? You don’t want to know?” he said as he released her wrist.

Tamara swallowed. She wanted to know, but then again she didn’t want to know. Her chest tightened with anxiety even while her stomach fluttered with a different sensation.

“Whatever happened, I think it’s best that we for—”

“Forget it. Fine.”

Marshall’s response gave Tamara pause. Guilt made her stomach tense. She was being harsh with him, and he looked as though he had no clue why.

It was time she fill him in. “You dated my cousin,” she told him. “That’s how I know all about you. I’m not passing judgment out of thin air.”

Marshall’s eyes narrowed with confusion. “What?”

“Twelve years ago—thirteen, actually—you dated my cousin, and you broke her heart. Gloria Miller?” she added, when he continued to seem clueless. “You chased her, you got what you wanted and then you dumped her. She was crushed. And she wasn’t the only woman you used and abused. There were plenty. Your reputation...it was pretty infamous.”

Understanding filled Marshall’s eyes. “Ahh, so that explains your attitude.” He paused. “Then the kiss last night...?”

“Was a bit of payback. I was toying with you. Letting you know that you can’t get your way with every woman. The kiss was about...teaching you a lesson.” Tamara quickly looked downward, shame coming over her. Some lesson that had been.

“At least now I know why you think ill of me. But clearly, whatever lesson you wanted to teach me didn’t go exactly as planned.”

Tamara whipped her gaze to his. “I realize that! You don’t have to rub it in.”

Several seconds passed, seconds that seemed like hours. Marshall stared at her, and Tamara held his gaze, determined not to let her embarrassment get to her.

“I really do need to get inside.”

“And here I thought we’d made some sort of connection last night. I mean, that kiss didn’t feel like payback...”

“You need me to spell it out? I’m not interested. Not in a guy like you.”

“Ouch.”

“Okay,” Tamara said, breathing out harshly. “This has gone in a direction I never intended. Please, let’s just forget all of it. I apologize for being offensive. Obviously things got to a certain level between us last night and I’m upset about that. And now I keep putting my foot in my mouth. I’m embarrassed enough.”

“I’m not stopping you from leaving,” Marshall said.

“Thank you.” Tamara opened the door.

But as she was stepping out the car, Marshall said, “Though you might want to know that you don’t need to be embarrassed. At least not about what did or did not happen last night.”

Tamara halted but didn’t look at him.

“I have no clue how you got naked, because when I put you in my spare bedroom, you had your dress on. You must have taken it off some time in the night.”

Tamara spun around and faced him, her breaths coming rapidly.

“A beautiful woman like you—would I have wanted to help you out of your dress? Sure, if you had been conscious and willing. But you were out cold, and I put you in the spare bed so that you could get some rest and sleep it off.”

Tamara’s eyes widened as she searched his face. “You’re saying that we never—”

“No.” His eyes held hers for a long moment. “Not that I wouldn’t have been willing,” he added, and the words alone made her feel flushed. “But since you practically passed out in my arms when you came out of the restroom, and because I didn’t want to bother Callie or Nigel with the situation—or to have you go home in that state and have your son see you—I took you to my place.”

Tamara was stunned; she had no clue what to say. Not only had he not taken advantage of her, he’d actually been thinking of her son—something she greatly appreciated.

“Never in my life have I had to take advantage of a woman to get her into my bed, and I’m not about to start now.”

“You—you never took off my dress?” How had she gotten naked, then? She must have awoken, perhaps because she was hot. Yes, she had memories of being hot. She must have taken off her own dress and had no recollection of it.

“I guess you’ll believe what you want to believe,” Marshall said. “But, Tamara, the truth is that I didn’t touch you in an inappropriate way. As amusing as it was to watch you squirm, believing that we’d made love, I wanted to make sure that you knew nothing happened—since the idea of sharing my bed bothers you that much.”

“I—I’m sorry.” It was the only thing Tamara could say, even though she knew the words wouldn’t be enough. “I...I just... I thought... I really am sorry.”

She’d been flustered. Out of her element. On edge around Marshall.

“Nigel is my best friend,” Marshall explained. “I told him last night I was going to take you home, look out for you. And even if you think I wouldn’t care about taking advantage of you, there’s no way that I would disrespect Nigel and the trust he placed in me. You can take that to the bank.”

Tamara felt like a heel. “Like I said, I’m sorry. I don’t get drunk, and I still don’t understand what happened. Waking up in a strange bed had me out of sorts. So, I apologize for my attitude. And thank you,” she added faintly.

“Pardon me?”

Tamara couldn’t meet Marshall’s eyes. If she never had to see him again, it would be too soon. Her humiliation was at an all-time high.

She drew in a deep breath and faced him. Hadn’t she dealt with much worse in her life? “Thank you,” she said more firmly, meaning it. “Thank you for looking out for me last night when I couldn’t do it myself.”

“You’re welcome. And a word of advice? Lay off the alcohol.”

Tamara’s face flamed. “Maybe it was something in one of the drinks. Or maybe it was the fatigue of driving for two days. Or maybe...” Her voice trailed off as it suddenly hit her. Why hadn’t she thought of it before?

“What?” Marshall asked.

“Gin,” she said. “There must have been gin in the punch. I’ve never liked it, and the one time I had it in college, I had a bad reaction and passed out. Of course.” It all made sense now.

She’d had the punch, felt weird in the bathroom and then couldn’t remember anything beyond the kiss. The truth was, she was lucky Marshall had been with her at the time she’d blacked out. She would have been far more horrified to know that she had passed out on the floor and was found by another guest at the reception.

“Gin, huh?” Marshall asked.

“I thought the punch would have champagne, not gin.” Tamara shook her head, wishing she could undo what had happened, but knowing that it could be much worse. “Thank you, again. I mean that.”