Catch a Mate Page 12

  “I twisted them. I was worried about losing my job, after all.” She forced a laugh, claimed the seat she’d abandoned and folded her hands over her stomach, the picture of demure. She’d act calm, prim, absolutely unaffected. “Thankfully, he didn’t fire me.”

  Georgia’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, all concern suddenly gone. “Did you twist your lips, too? Because they’re swollen.”

  Her stomach rolled. “I, uh, bit them. From worry. Like I said, I was worried.”

  “Did you lick them from worry, as well? They’re awfully moist,” Danielle said, her tone dripping with amusement. Gone was her concern, as well.

  Jillian sighed. “Yes, I licked them. End of subject.”

  All the girls stood then and closed the space around her. “Please, girl,” Becky said. She rolled her eyes. “We’ve been worried about you and you were out there making babies, weren’t you?”

  “Or maybe she’s been out there welcoming the new boss on her knees,” Danielle said, brows wagging suggestively.

  “As if,” Jillian retorted.

  “Have a seat, ladies,” a familiar male voice suddenly said, cutting through the speculation. Everyone stiffened. One by one, the girls plopped into their seats.

  Marcus entered the room, the door snapping closed behind him. He strode past her chair, wafting a breeze of sin in her direction. Jillian’s lungs constricted as memories flooded her. Lips, wandering hands, arousal. Attack him, indeed. The only way she’d attack him was if she were wearing brass knuckles and had razors attached to her boots.

  Liar. How could one man be so potent? So…lethal to her common sense? That kiss had been a moment of insanity, surely. You stopped being nice to him, and that’s when the trouble started. Stick to the plan, genius, and you just might make it out of this building with some dignity.

  Well, what little dignity she had left, anyway.

  “So.” Marcus clapped his hands together. His features were hard, unreadable, his tone even more so. He hadn’t straightened his hair and the short locks were tangled together in disarray. “Let’s get back to the meeting,” he said, glancing at her.

  Jillian looked away from him. Cowardly, yes, but she simply couldn’t face him right now. He’d had his tongue down her throat and she’d liked it.

  Silence. Dead silence.

  “You, uh…” Georgia paused, gazed around helplessly.

  “You have lipstick on,” Amelia finished for her. With relish.

  Oh, dear God. Jillian felt the color drain from her face. No! Her horrified gaze whipped back to Marcus and dropped to his lips. And there it was. A pretty smear of pink. Calypso Coral, to be exact—she should know, since she applied that exact shade every day. It rimmed the edges of his lips. Mortified, Marcus flushed a bright, bright red. The color was a lovely contrast to the coral.

  Their eyes met in the next instant. She shook her head. Don’t tell them. Please don’t tell them, she beseeched silently. His eyelids slitted, low, so low she could barely see his dark irises. His mouth floundered open and closed.

  He didn’t have a ready response. Would maybe blurt out the truth if he couldn’t think of a lie. She couldn’t let him do it. They’d tease her; they’d ask her about him. Questions she wasn’t prepared to answer.

  “He’s a cross-dresser,” she said, spewing the first answer that came to mind. What the hell, she spewed the second, too. “And he’s gay!”

  Another silence slithered through the room. This one heavier, a phantom reaching out and choking the life from them. Finally Becky said, “A gay cross-dresser. Huh. I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen the lipstick for myself.”

  “I never would have believed it, either,” Georgia said, and she didn’t sound like she believed it now. “I mean, you weren’t wearing lipstick before your private meeting with Jillian.”

  “It was sweet of her to let you borrow her lipstick,” Danielle said, all innocence. “Pink is a good color on you.”

  Jillian thought she saw steam curl from Marcus’s ears.

  “My personal life is my business, ladies,” he barked, grabbing a tissue from the tabletop and wiping his mouth.

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Selene told him. “I actually think it’s cute. And if you ever see me wearing a shade of lipstick you’d like to try out for yourself, just let me know.”

  Marcus pinned Jillian with a fierce stare that said You’ll pay for this. “Let’s get back to business. It’s time for a little test. Who here remembers rule number two?”

  Jillian’s cheeks heated again. He was doing this on purpose. Rubbing it in, blaming her for what had happened.

  Amelia raised her hand, the amber rings on each of her fingers winking in the light. Becky, too, raised her hand and even said, “I know, I know.”

  Slowly Jillian raised her hand in the air, as well, unwilling to be cowed.

  “You.” Marcus pointed to Amelia. His eyes avoided Jillian altogether.

  “No relationships with anyone. Ever.”

  “And specifically no relationship with a client, target or employee,” Jillian added pointedly.

  “That’s right.” Marcus flicked her an unhappy glance. “That rule still applies. In fact, for those of you who wrote it down, put a star next to it and circle it.”

  “It’s not like you have to worry about us laying the moves on each other,” Jillian said. “None of us are gay. Like you,” she added, just to be mean.

  His left eye twitched. His irises swirled with velvety fury. Those eyes of his are the color of mud, she told herself. Not rich, glossy wood. Not chocolate. Not gold. They are not sexy. He is not sexy. “Don’t make me pull you aside for another private meeting, Jillian.”

  The moment he spoke her name, everyone turned to face her, watching her, gauging her reaction. She bit the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t respond the way she wanted: You’d like that, wouldn’t you? They’d end up kissing again, in front of everyone this time. She knew it, felt it. His chest was heaving, his nostrils were flared, his eyes dilated. Challenge radiated from him.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  Finally, the heavy burden of attention was removed from her as the women focused on the conference room’s entrance. Beyond the glass stood an army of men. Of gods. They were powerful, rugged and undeniably handsome. Pure seduction. Her brows furrowed in confusion. What was going on?

  One of them—Jillian recognized him as the tall, lean Peeping Tom who’d watched her kiss Marcus—peeked his head inside. “You ready for us?”

  Marcus smiled with more satisfaction than she’d ever seen from a man. Even after hard-core, sweaty sex. “Absolutely. You’re just on time.”

  Her insides twisted and knotted. Obviously, these men were about to upset her. Nothing else would put such a smile on her enemy’s face.

  The door opened completely and those five godlike creatures entered the room. Peeping Tom, followed by a blond Adonis and a mocha-colored muscleman. After him was a redheaded guy who was burly and rugged. Last, there was a dark-haired, blue-eyed platter of deliciousness.

  The men filed inside and stood at the far wall. Her friends, Jillian noticed, were drooling. Even Amelia, who liked to dominate, to be in control and normally did not reveal the slightest hint of her thoughts to the opposite sex, was starry-eyed.

  As the males surveyed the females, they smiled with delight.

  “Ladies, meet your new partners,” Marcus said, his tone dripping with relish.

  “What?” Jillian shouted. No, no, no. She was supposed to saddle up with one of these pigs? Hell, no. “We’ve never had partners and we’ve always done a good job.”

  He peered down at her smugly. “Like Anne said, things change. And it’s time we started having male employees.”

  “Why?” she insisted.

  “You need protectors.”

  Grrr! “No one here has ever gotten hurt on the job. We don’t need protectors.”

  “I’ve been scared a few times,” Danielle spoke up.


  Jillian glared at her. Not a good time, Danny.

  “Well,” Danielle said, splaying her arms wide, “it’s true.”

  “Do the men need protectors, then?” Jillian asked through gritted teeth.

  “Hell, no. But you will be needed when the men go on their own assignments. You’ll act as cling control, keeping other women from distracting them while they do their job. That’s just as important.”

  Jillian opened her mouth to respond, but Marcus cut her off with a shake of his head. “It’s going to happen whether you like it or not, Jillian. I’ve already decided. After the way Darren grabbed your arm last night, I realized I didn’t like how vulnerable you were.”

  “I took care of myself.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Each one of you will be accompanied by a male partner on every assignment. This man will remain close by but out of the way and the pair of you will need to work up a signal for when you’re feeling threatened or even uncomfortable.” He lifted a sheet of paper from the table. “Georgia, you’ll be with Jake.”

  Peeping Tom stepped forward. Georgia nodded in welcome.

  “Danielle, you’ll be with Joe.” The gorgeous black man stepped forward, and Danielle practically melted into a puddle. “Becky, you’re with Kyle.” Adonis gave a finger wave and Becky returned the greeting.

  Jillian’s stomach knotted further, twisting painfully. Her name hadn’t been called yet, and she was beginning to worry about what that meant. Only three men were left and one of those was Marcus.

  “Selene,” Marcus continued, “you’ll be with Rafe.” The redhead gave a tilt of his chin and Selene gave him a cool nod. “Amelia, you’re with…” Marcus paused.

  Jillian almost threw up. He had better say—

  “Matt.” The dark-headed, blue-eyed platter stepped forward. Amelia smiled wickedly at him.

  “I hope you enjoy pain,” she said.

  Matt licked his lips and winked. “I hope you enjoy feathers.”

  “Rule number two,” Marcus said with a frown. “Let’s not forget. I’ll switch you around if I have to.”

  The two of them flushed and hastily glanced away from each other.

  Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. Jillian swallowed past the lump in her throat. She knew what was coming next and wanted to scream. Wanted to cry. This wasn’t happening, couldn’t possibly be happening. The man was diabolical, doing everything in his power to make her miserable. To punish her. She’d suspected he wanted her to quit, but this proved it beyond a doubt.

  “Jillian,” Marcus said, drawing out the word, as if her name was a caress to his senses. “You’re with me. Before you dance with joy, I should tell you that I’ve already procured our first assignment. It’s tonight at eight. Be ready.”

  Ten

  My magic watch tells me you’re naked—wait, maybe it’s a few minutes fast.

  HE NEEDED a poker table in here, Marcus thought, surveying his new office. Maybe a foosball table, as well. The place looked boring. He pursed his lips; he couldn’t have Jillian thinking he was boring, especially after all that talk about the weather yesterday. And speaking of Jillian, maybe he’d bring in a monitor—with the camera pointed at her cube—so he could keep an eye on her, make sure she was really typing case notes or reading about her next assignment. Otherwise she might be looking for ways to sabotage him.

  You’re with me, he had told her. Before you dance with joy, I should tell you that I’ve already procured our first assignment. It’s tonight at eight. Be ready. He would have loved to have seen her reaction to those parting words, but he’d left, too afraid they’d start kissing again. There had been fire in her eyes and the need to taste her—again—had nearly consumed him.

  Like a coward, he’d run away from her as if his feet were engulfed in flames.

  “What’s up with you and Curls?” Matt asked now as the men congregated in Marcus’s office.

  Marcus wasn’t surprised that Matt was the first to bring up such a dangerous topic. Matt was a reckless man who lived for danger and liked all things fast. Fast cars, fast women, fast living.

  With a sigh, Marcus leaned back in his chair. He crossed his hands over his stomach and stared up at the boxed ceiling, away from the guys milling around the (boring) office, picking up papers, leafing through cabinets. They’d wanted to know about Jillian. He’d known this conversation would come up soon. But he’d hoped for a day’s reprieve at least.

  “She’s a nuisance, that’s what she is. And the only thing that’s up is my blood pressure.” With barely a breath, he added, “So why the hell didn’t you tell me I was wearing lipstick earlier?”

  “Because it was funny,” Jake said with a laugh, “and I didn’t want you to take it off.”

  “You were sporting a stiffy when you told her she was your new partner,” Kyle said. “I was embarrassed for you.”

  Male chuckles abounded. Marcus ground his teeth together. Having friends sucked ass. “You guys are welcome to find new jobs.”

  Jake rolled his eyes. “Not a good bluff, Markie, since you make that threat at least once a day.”

  The nickname reminded him of Jillian, the way she tossed it at him in the heat of pique. His ex-wife had called him Markie, the reason he couldn’t stand it—something Jake knew. To chastise Jake, though, was to invite all the men to call him by the hated name.

  “Do we all get to make out with our partners or what?” Matt asked. His eyes were gleaming.

  Rafe dropped to his knees and laced his fingers together. “Say yes and I’ll work this job for free.”

  “No.” Marcus snarled the word, a reminder more for himself than for the men. But he wanted to, God, he wanted to. Jillian’s sweet taste lingered in his mouth; her moans still echoed in his ears. “What you witnessed was a mistake that will never happen again.” Unfortunately.

  Slowly Joe grinned. “Mistakes that look that good are always worth repeating. Guaranteed.”

  “No, they’re not,” he insisted.

  “I think you’re lying,” Jake said, lips twitching. “I think you like her and want to make another mistake with her. A harder mistake. A longer mistake.”

  The guys chuckled.

  “Wrong,” Marcus gritted out. “She’s my employee.”

  Kyle crossed his arms over his chest. “What would you do if you were stranded on a deserted island with her and work didn’t matter?”

  “Commit murder-suicide,” Marcus answered. Or make love for days and days and days without stopping. Frowning, he gathered the folders he’d already sorted on his desk and began tossing them at his friends, one at a time. “This is your partner’s schedule for the week. Memorize it.”

  “What about our schedules?” Jake asked with an arched brow, finally accepting the change of subject.

  “The previous owner had a strict policy against testing wives, so I’ve only had one male client approach me. I’m taking that case myself.” He wanted to prove a point to Jillian—that women were as nefarious as men when it came to the game of sex, lies and more sex. “For the time being, you guys are simply acting as bodyguards. Soon you’ll have more cases than you know what to do with, I hope.”

  Guarding Jillian’s body would be fun, he thought. Pounding in and out of it would be more fun. No. Stop! Don’t think like that. Bad Marcus. Bad. He scowled.

  “What’s the death-glare for?” Jake asked, palms up. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Nothing,” he grumbled. Jake was loyal, trustworthy and Marcus shouldn’t glare at him. He and Jake had grown up in the same neighborhood after his move to the States. Their moms had been friends and they themselves had been inseparable, always in trouble. Of course, he’d been responsible for most of that trouble, but Jake had never complained.

  He’d met his other employees at various agencies. He’d always liked them, admired them, had fun with them. They’d all just clicked. Then, three years ago, he’d bought his own company and offered the guys a job. They’d happily signed on.


  When Anne first contacted him about buying CAM, then called and changed her mind, he’d flown here and spent several days convincing her of his worthiness. Expansion had always been his dream. Finally, the old warhorse had agreed. He’d promoted his younger brother, Farris, leaving him in charge of the Dallas office, and moved here.

  Single and always up for a challenge, his friends had readily packed up and followed him to Oklahoma City. One day Marcus hoped to have offices all over the States, with each of these men in charge. After all, people were willing to pay massive amounts of money to test their significant other; he was just happy to oblige.

  “The crop is exquisite,” Matt said, cutting into his thoughts. He was peeking out of the blinds, gazing into the cubicles beyond. The others closed in around him, looking over his shoulder.

  “That redhead, what’s her name, Georgia?” Kyle looked around for confirmation. “She’s a juicy peach in need of plucking.”

  “That’s lame. Who calls a woman a peach? I like Selene,” Rafe said. “She’s—”

  “A white grape,” Kyle interjected. “Sink your teeth into her and her juices will pour down your throat.”

  “Moron. You and your fruit. She’s ice. My favorite. The cool ones always melt when you make them hot enough.”

  Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose. His crew smelled fresh meat—or fruit, in Kyle’s case. They were just like him; he’d taken one whiff of Jillian’s delectable scent and begun foaming like a rabid beast. Hopefully everyone—himself included—would settle down soon.

  “What do you think Curls is saying to Georgia?” Matt asked. “She sat down so I can’t see her mouth anymore.”

  Curls, the magic word. Though he knew he shouldn’t, Marcus joined his friends at the window. He was pulled by an invisible force, compelled. Forced by a need greater than himself, damn it, to look and see for himself what Jillian was doing. Georgia and Selene stood just in front of Jillian’s cube, their backs to him. They were now talking animatedly, hands waving through the air, hair swishing down their backs. He could only see the top of Jillian’s head.

  Marcus willed her to stand back up so he could see her. She didn’t, so he forced himself to turn away. His eagerness was embarrassing, anyway.