His Fair Lady (4 page)

She laughed. “I look like I did anyway.”

“Me too,” Mark said and shoved wet hair back from his face.

“Here comes the heat.”

Josie held her chilly fingers out toward the vent. The warm air felt glorious, and she rubbed her hands together.

“So tell me about you and Kyle.” Mark backed the car out of the parking space.

“There’s nothing to tell. We’re friends. We’ve been friends for a long time. He decided to go to this college because of me.”

Why had she told him that? She had no idea.

“But it’s not a boyfriend-girlfriend thing.”

She looked for the skepticism in his comment, but there was none. He just wanted to know.

“No, not a boyfriend-girlfriend thing.”

“Is he gay?”

Josie opened her mouth, closed it. Kyle was open about his orientation, but she still didn’t feel like she should be talking about him, even though she knew he wouldn’t care.

“Sorry, that was a rude question. Sometimes I don’t think before I say stuff. My brother’s gay and, in my family, it’s no big deal so…”

No big deal?

Josie’s pulse accelerated, and she twisted her hands together in her lap to keep them from fidgeting. Just because Mark’s brother was gay and it was “no big deal” didn’t mean he was some kind of pansexual love god and the answer to all her t-girl yearnings.

It took some effort, but she kept her tone casual. “Your brother’s gay?”

“Yeah, and his boyfriend used to be a priest. How’s that for family drama?”

“He probably wouldn’t appreciate you telling me that.”

“About him being gay? Nah, Chris has been out since as long as I can remember.”

“No, I mean the priest thing. That’s kind of personal.”

Mark shrugged. “Kevin won’t care. He might tell you himself when you meet him. If it came up, I mean.”

“Why would it come up? And I’m hardly likely to meet him anyway.”

“You’ll meet him when they come to the show.”

“Your brother’s boyfriend is going to come to our show?”

“Sure. They always come see me when I’m in a show or a concert or something. My whole family does. Chris, Kevin, my mom, they’ll all be there on opening night. I’ll introduce you. Maybe we’ll go out for pizza or something. You’ll like them.”

“What about your dad?”

“My dad’s not in the picture.” Mark paused. “How about your family? Will they come to opening night?”

If her parents knew about it, they probably would. But she didn’t plan on telling them.

“My parents live pretty far away.”

“Yeah, where?”

“On a farm,” Josie evaded.

She didn’t like to talk about her parents. Not because they weren’t supportive; in fact they had always been nothing but supportive, bringing up their only child with zero pressure to conform and no gender pressure whatsoever. But talk about families nearly always led to talk about childhood. Even at eighteen, she had yet to figure out how to talk about her life Before. That was how she thought of it, as her life “Before” she’d begun to live openly as the girl she had always been.

As if he sensed her reluctance, Mark steered the conversation in another direction.

“Do your parents grow stuff on their farm?”

She was pathetically grateful for the topic shift, and for a while they talked about the organic peaches and blueberries her parents grew, as well as the goat cheese her mother made. It felt good, just a nice talk between two new friends.

Josie realized with a start that they had reached her street. She touched Mark’s arm. “Turn here.”

“This is a nice neighborhood,” Mark said. “I didn’t know there were apartments around here.”

“They used to be houses,” Josie said. “Well, they are still houses, but some were split into apartments like where Kyle and I live.”

“Which one do you guys live in?” Mark took her hand in his.

Josie’s heart began to pound. Not that she was self-conscious about her hands, or not that much. They weren’t especially big; no bigger than Kyle’s anyway. But the move had been so casual and so…natural, like he’d been taking her hand every day for years.

“It’s the one with the porch light on. See the swing?” She pointed with the hand he wasn’t holding.

She thought he would just double-park and let her out at the curb, hoped he would. But he eased the car into a parking space and turned the engine off.

“Here you are, m’lady. And it looks like the rain is letting up a little too.”

“Thanks for the ride.” She reached for the door and was surprised to see him reaching for his as well. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to walk you up.” Mark released her hand and opened his door. “C’mon.”

There was no point arguing since he was already out of the car. She climbed out, and together they dashed through the rain and up onto her porch.

She was not inviting him in. No way.

She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her keys. They jingled softly as she searched for the right one.

Damn it. Her hands were shaking. Why was she so nervous?

At last she found the key. It jittered around the keyhole, then dropped from her fingers and clattered onto the porch.

She bent to retrieve it, but Mark got there first. He picked up her keys, located the right one, and slid it smoothly into the lock.

Josie could feel the hot color in her cheeks. Maybe it was too shadowy for him to see.

“Thanks. And thanks again for the ride, though you really didn’t have to.”

“Thanks for letting me.” Mark turned the key in the lock, and the door opened. Pulling the key from the lock, he held the ring out.

A little disappointed but mostly relieved—at least that was what she told herself—that he didn’t ask to come in, she took hold of her key ring.

But instead of letting go, Mark held on and leaned in, touching his lips to hers.

The contact was soft and sweet, the lightest brush of lips with no tongue whatsoever. And it was over way too soon.

Someone made a sound. Was it her? Yeah, she thought it probably was. A moan. Had she actually moaned? Or was it more of a whimper? Or a hum? Yes, a hum low in her throat that almost drowned out the ping of attraction in her head and her belly.

“Was that okay?” Mark was frowning, his gaze fixed on her face. “I wanted to kiss you for a long time but…”

His words trailed off into silence.

Did he mean he wanted to kiss her for longer than that? Or did he mean he’d wanted to kiss her ever since they’d met?

And what the hell did it matter anyway?

“You haven’t known me for a long time,” she whispered.

“Feels like I have.”

She let go of her keys. Dimly heard them fall to the porch as his hands slipped under her jacket and around her waist. He tugged her close, once more finding her lips with his.

Though the kiss was still soft, still gentle, this time he lingered. He kissed her upper lip, her lower lip, and both corners of her mouth before sliding the tip of his tongue along the seam.

She made that sound again, her arms going around his neck as she leaned into him and parted her lips. Accepting her invitation, he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Shyly she touched her tongue to his.

Something sparked between them.

Mark groaned as the kiss went deep, turning hotter and more intense.

His mouth was so sweet, like candy only subtler, and so warm it chased away the chill of the rainy night air. Josie plunged her fingers into his wet hair, fisted them there, and pressed her body fully against his.

Tongues tangling and teeth nipping, they devoured each other like two starving prisoners set free at a banquet.

She wanted this, wanted him, wanted never to stop kissing and touching and feeling so much. She felt so much, and it was just too damn good. And best of all, he wanted her. Suddenly she felt the press of his cock against her hip and an answering stirring between her legs.

The sensation snapped her back to herself. All sense and caution returned in a rush like a punch to the gut. What the hell was she doing?

She couldn’t do this. Could. Not. Do. This.

She tore her mouth from his and struggled free of his arms. She staggered back, nearly fell, and caught her balance.

“Whoa.” Mark reached out to steady her.

She jerked back and flung up her hands, warning him off.

“Don’t.” The single word was almost a sob.

“Josie, I—”

He reached for her again.

“Don’t, Mark! Just…don’t, okay?”

She scrubbed the back of one hand over her lips. But when that wasn’t enough, she covered her face with both hands, then raked her fingers through her hair. What the hell was she thinking, making out with a straight boy? She wasn’t thinking; that was the only possible answer.

“I’m sorry,” Mark said. “Please, let me—”

“No. I have to go. Just let me go.”

Josie stumbled into the house and slammed the door in Mark’s face. Legs trembling and eyes blurry with hot tears, she staggered up the three flights to her apartment. Only then did she realize her keys were still lying on the porch where she’d dropped them.

Chapter Three

Holy shit!

Mark stood alone on Josie’s porch, a little numb and a lot confused. What the hell was that? What had he done to make her so upset? One minute they were kissing and the next she was waving him off with crosses and holy water like he was the second coming of Dracula, ready to suck her dry and steal her virginity.

She was a virgin, he was certain of that, had known it from the first tentative touch of her lips. No girl with experience kissed like that. The shy parting of lips, the uncertain touch of her tongue, all added up to a girl with little or no knowledge of sex.

Mark scrubbed a hand down his face. His lips still tingled from kissing; her flavor, that intoxicating mix of innocence and heat, still lingered on his tongue. Mark inhaled, a long breath that did nothing to steady him. Though it was probably his imagination, he swore he could smell her; the scent like fresh-cut flowers clung to the rainy night air.

Mark stared at the line of doorbells, six of them in all, with no indication of who lived where in the big house. He could ring them all one by one until somebody let him in. Then what? Knock on one door after another until he found her?

Maybe it would just be better to go home. Probably that was what he should do before he did something stupid.

As he turned from the door, Mark caught the glint of metal from the corner of his eye.

Her keys lay on the porch where they’d fallen just before all the kissing and subsequent craziness. He bent down and picked them up. The ring with a half-dozen keys dangled from his finger. Now what?

Now he could let himself in. But that seemed a little creepy stalkerish and still didn’t resolve the question of which apartment was hers.

But she would need her keys. Maybe there was a mailbox where he could leave them.

Without letting himself think any more about it, Mark let himself in and closed the door behind him. He found himself in a narrow entry hall. A row of mailboxes lined one wall, six of them, all the same except for the number painted on the door. No names. So that idea was a bust.

Above the boxes was a shelf, mostly empty except for what looked like a neighborhood circular wrapped in plastic, a couple of magazines, and a small box wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. None of the items showed Josie’s name.

Maybe he would just leave the keys on the shelf. Then he would send her a text telling her they were there. This seemed like the best idea, so he would roll with it.

“Hey, you don’t live here, do you?”

Mark glanced up. A guy of about his own age eyed him from the first landing of stairs that turned and rose up into shadow. Tall with broad shoulders, he had a face that was very nearly pretty and a really bad case of blond bedhead.

Mark held up the keys. “A friend of mine dropped her keys. I was just going to give them back to her. Her name’s Josie. Maybe you know her.”

Bedhead guy descended the stairs and plucked the keys from Mark’s hand. “I know her. But what I want to know is what you did to her.”

“What?”

“You’re Mark, right?”

“That’s none of your—”

“It is my business, because Josie is my business. She’s like my sister. And right now she’s up in our apartment crying her eyes out because of something you did. So don’t tell me it’s not my business.”

The “asshole” remained unspoken but vibrated in the air between them nonetheless.

Mark was no brawler, but neither did he shrink from a fight when one was in the offing. He sized up Bedhead and decided he could probably take him if need be. Hopefully the need would not be.

“You must be Kyle.”

Bedhead, or Kyle, if that was who this was, tilted his head and considered Mark. “Maybe?”

“Look, I don’t know what I did. If I could just come up—”

“Not happening.”

“I’m not going to do anything. I want to talk to her is all.”

“It’s not that. She’d kill me if she knew I was down here talking to you about her.” Kyle walked to the front door, twitched aside the curtain, and peered out the sidelight. “Is that your car?”

“Yeah, I gave Josie a ride home.”

“You make a move on her?”

“What are you, pre-law?”

Kyle laughed. Dropping the curtain back in place, he turned. “No, I’m a Fine Arts major. You?”

“English with a theater minor.”

“Hmm, and did you?”

“Did I…”

“Make a move on her.”

“I kissed her,” Mark said, surprised the truth had popped out instead of the lie he’d meant to tell.

“Oh?” Kyle’s lips curved, his eyes suddenly alight with curiosity.

“Yeah, and she kissed me back.”

“And?”

“You’re a pushy little…”

“Cocksucker?” Kyle suggested. He smacked his lips. “Yes, I am. Now tell me what else happened. Josie will tell me eventually anyway, so I may as well hear your side of the story.”

Resigned to the third degree, Mark sighed. “We made out a little. I thought she was into it; then she sort of freaked out. I don’t know why or what I did or anything.”

“Did you grope her?”