The Marriage Campaign. Michele Dunaway
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Lisa to the door. No matter how tough Lisa wanted to make this, Mark was determined to make it tougher for her to get away. He put his hand on hers and caught her in the middle of the doorway. “I asked you to wait,” he said.
She shook her head, a blond tendril falling out of the updo and landing in front of her ear. She freed her hand and deliberately pushed the wayward lock back. “I have to go. Thanks for starting the hat.”
“We aren’t done talking,” he said. “You and I have unfinished business.”
Her eyes widened for a moment before she regained her composure. “Okay, perhaps we can talk for a few moments afterward,” Lisa conceded. “I’m seeing my parents Saturday and I won’t live it down if I don’t bring news. And Joann would kill me if we don’t talk.”
“Still not acceptable,” Mark said.
Lisa appeared startled at his firm tone, and Mark used the moment to deal with the insufferable Bradley Wayne.
“Mr. Wayne, I’m quite prepared to fulfill my father’s obligations tonight. But I have a problem. I’m dateless and I dislike dining alone at a table full of strangers. I insist that Lisa be my guest. I haven’t seen her for eight years and would like to catch up.”
Bradley wore a stunned expression, as if someone had suggested letting beggars attend a royal ball. “She has a job to do.”
“Exactly. Fund-raising,” Mark inserted. “My father and Herb pledged the fraternity together and are good friends. I’d hate to go home and tell my dad about the miserable time I had and that I just couldn’t, in good conscience, donate his two thousand and two of my own….” Mark purposely paused. “Anyway, I promise to look after Lisa and get that hat moving.”
Bradley’s upper lip curled and Mark faced Lisa. Her jaw had dropped slightly, and she quickly closed her mouth. He’d dumbfounded her. He could almost hear Joann laughing, filling the hole inside of him that she’d left when she’d moved to Springfield. Phone calls and occasional visits didn’t cut it after you’d grown up sharing confidences since the womb. He turned to Lisa. “Ready? You can tell me about my important duties over our rubber chicken entrée.”
Still shocked by the turn of events, Lisa said, “Huh? I sampled the food earlier. It’s actually pretty good.”
“Perfect.” With that, Mark Smith and his Rhett Butler smile swept Lisa out of the room.
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