Until Now. Kayla Perrin
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goodness’ sake, what had she gotten herself into with Marshall? She hadn’t expected him to be like a dog with a bone.
“He sees this whole thing as a game,” she said to her reflection. “He’ll get bored soon enough.”
She should have known that with a man like Marshall, once she had taken on the role of the mouse, he would take on the role of the cat.
Taking one of the hand towels from a wicker basket, she delicately dried her face. She was feeling even more light-headed than minutes ago and wondered if she was coming down with something.
She went into a stall and then came out and washed her hands. Perhaps she should just put Marshall out of his misery now. Tell him that she knew who he was because he had played this very game with her cousin. And she’d heard about him with other women, as well.
The Marshall she had known years ago had loved the chase. And he was good at conquering.
All of the time spent with him this evening had proved to Tamara that he hadn’t changed over the years.
The heir to the auto fortune that his father had built, Marshall went after women as though it was a sport. Callie told her that he’d never been married. He was what now—thirty-four, thirty-five? It wasn’t a crime to be single at that age, but Tamara would bet her last dollar that Marshall didn’t want to settle down because he didn’t believe in commitment.
Which had actually made him a perfect candidate for flirting with tonight. Their banter had been entertaining and had totally kept her from thinking about Patrick.
She exited the bathroom, noting that she seemed to be walking a little bit unsteadily. As promised, Marshall was standing there, waiting.
Her eyes roamed over him from head to toe. The black suit that looked like a million dollars on him. He truly was one incredibly fine specimen of a man. There was no doubt as to why the women swooned over him.
“You want to get to know me better,” Tamara said without preamble as she walked toward him. “Really get to know me?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then how’s this?” None too gracefully, she closed the distance between them. And as she eased up on her toes, the thought that came into her mind was that she was definitely drunk. Because she had no clue why she was doing what she was doing...nor could she stop herself.
Completely out of character, Tamara tipped up on her toes and planted her lips firmly on his. She gripped his shoulders, more for support than anything, and after about five seconds, she ended the kiss as quickly as she had initiated it.
Easing back, she looked up at Marshall. Saw the confusion on his face. And felt it in herself as her head swam.
Why’d she just do that?
Marshall’s expression said that he was stunned but also delighted. He raised an eyebrow. “Wow.”
“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” she asked, her tongue feeling heavy. “To score?”
“Come again?”
She took a step backward, swaying unsteadily. “I gave you what you wanted, so now you can move on. The chase is over.”
Marshall frowned. “You kiss me like that, and then you tell me...”
Tamara didn’t hear the rest of what Marshall was saying, because the room began to spin violently. She reached out but there was nothing to grab onto.
“Tamara?” she heard him say.
The last conscious memory she had was of strong arms encircling her waist.
And then the world went black.
* * *
Holding Tamara’s limp body in his arms, Marshall looked down at her with a sense of disbelief. What the heck had just happened?
Her eyes were closed and her plump lips were slightly parted. She was undoubtedly out cold.
Marshall felt for a pulse. It was there, and it was strong. Her breathing was shallow but steady.
He had seen this before. Women who drank too much. Suddenly, the alcohol hit them, and they passed out.
The weird thing was, she hadn’t exhibited any signs of being inebriated earlier. She hadn’t lost her footing on the dance floor, and her speech hadn’t been slurred. It had been only moments before she faltered that he’d realized something was wrong.
“Tamara,” he called softly. She said nothing.
He scooped her up into his arms and carried her toward the nearby sofa. He sat her down beside him and propped her head against his shoulder. “Tamara?” he said again.
All he heard in response was the sound of her breathing.
She hadn’t taken something in the bathroom, had she? Some sort of drug? It was a crazy idea, and one Marshall dismissed. She didn’t seem like the type.
He touched her face. She was warm. Her skin was smooth. His eyes ventured a little lower, over her thighs and down her legs. At the silver sandals on her delicate feet.
Wow, she was gorgeous.
And she was an enigma. Why had she kissed him? Oh, he had no complaints. Not until she’d said that whole thing about scoring and giving him what he wanted.
She had no clue what he wanted, and he wondered why she had judged him so harshly.
“Tamara?” He lightly tapped her face and still got no response.
It was clear to him that she wasn’t waking up anytime soon. Marshall didn’t know if he should leave her on this sofa and go to find Nigel. He was about to do just that, then considered the fact that Nigel had told him that the boys were staying with the babysitter for the evening. It wouldn’t exactly be the best thing for Nigel to bring Tamara back there, possibly have her son see her in this state.
Marshall would take her to his place. He would watch her, see if her vital signs changed and act accordingly if they did. But he suspected that the alcohol had simply caught up with her and all she needed was to sleep it off. Then, in the morning, he would bring her home.
Yeah, that seemed like the best thing to do. Besides, the reception was still in full swing, and he didn’t want to take Nigel or Callie or any of the family away from the festivities. His cousin had already left, so there was nothing keeping him here at this point.
Tamara moved against him, snuggling her head against his shoulder a little. A smile touched Marshall’s lips. Did she have any clue what she was doing? That she was with him now? At least she appeared content.
A sleeping angel.
Marshall reached into his jacket pocket for his cell phone, and he sent Nigel a text explaining what he was going to do. He told him not to worry, that he would handle the situation and that Tamara would be returned safe and sound in the morning.
For good measure, he added: Don’t worry. She’s in good hands. I’m heeding your warning.
Then Marshall pulled Tamara’s delicate body onto his lap and secured his arms beneath her legs and around her shoulders. He began to walk with her toward the establishment’s main doors, garnering some stares from a few people nearby.
Marshall grinned at an older couple and said, “Don’t worry, folks. I’m a police officer. I’m making sure that this young lady here gets home.”
“Is she okay?” the older man asked.
“Yes,” Marshall answered. “Just a little too much to drink. Nothing a night’s rest won’t cure.”
As he looked down at the sleeping beauty in his arms, he thought again about the way she had kissed him.
And how he was very much looking forward to doing it again.
Chapter