Permanent (Indelibly Marked) (Volume 1) (18 page)

“I can see you have another question bubbling.” He leaned down.

“Did you ever feel the need to reinvent yourself?”

“How do you mean?”

“You know, did you ever feel you needed to change?”

“You ask interesting questions.” His facial features hardened. “I wasn’t the one that needed to be reinvented. People like you and I need to reinvent others to fit us, we’re not hicks or wannabe’s. People who change for others are losers.”

A slap across the face would have stung less and her cheeks heated. Before she got a chance to reply, they were interrupted by a group of two men and two women.

“Dillon Elliott, you decided to show yourself.” A blonde laced her arm in his. “Finally decided to return to the superior coast.”

“Start spreading the news, I’m back in L.A.” He mock performed a little soft shoe and the group laughed.

The men shook his hand and the other woman gave him a hug, then everyone’s focus turned to Lindsay.

“You big bad jerk, did they give you an assistant to come back?” The brunette tugged his arm.

If she thought she was regaining her composure after Dillon’s remark, she was dead wrong. How could anyone think she was an assistant? Dillon just called her an up-and-comer.

“Come on guys.” Dillon shook his head. “This is Lindsay Stevens, she’s a corporate accountant at Sebastian and Peters.”

The blonde put her arm around her, bumping hips playfully. “We didn’t think you were an assistant. That’s how he met his last girlfriend.”

The group laughed, but Lindsay wanted to disappear into the marble floor.

“Tell me about this rat trap.” Dillon interrupted the cackles.

The conversation filled with talk of cost per square foot, mortgages and escrow. This was Lindsay’s language. Accountants and real estate merged where it counted, in the wallet, and she’d always envisioned being involved in that type of dialog.

“Aren’t these adorable? Are they antique?” The brunette who thought Lindsay was an assistant pointed at the string of simple pearls around her neck.

Her hand instantly went to her neck. “They’re my grandmother’s.” She put the pearls on that morning, needing a connection to home. “She gave them to me before I left to come to California.” Her necklace was a far cry from the jewelry those women draped on themselves, and completely opposite from the jewelry Shane’s crowd wore. The men around her displayed huge gilded watches and diamond cufflinks that didn’t seem nearly as stylish as Shane’s worn leather watchband and eclectic rings.

“That is so sweet.” The other woman elbowed her. “I just buy what I want, I don’t have any hand-me-downs.”

She wanted to say that the pearls were about the only thing she owned that wasn’t brand new, but the brunette struck again.

“And your suit…” She looked Lindsay up and down. “How did they get this fabric to fit so well?”

“It’s critical a suit fits well, everything I read about it told me that’s the most important thing.” She smiled, to have something to say about fashion.

“Really?” The brunette put her hand to her chin.

She straightened. “I have tons of articles on achieving the proper fit. You can make any inexpensive outfit look custom made if you have it tailored properly.”

“What do you look for?” The other woman leaned in. “I want to know what to ask my tailor.”

“You need to make sure the shoulders are straight and not tight, that nothing bulges out when you sit down. On your pants or skirt, you should be able to put one finger in the waistband.” Lindsay narrowed her eyes and thought. “It seemed like I spent hours with the tailor when I bought my suits to make sure everything was perfect, and on a couple of them he changed the buttons for me.” She took a deep breath. “I have a check list, maybe I can email it to you.”

Both women stared at her as if they were about to crack up. “Did you get a whole new wardrobe when you came out here and plan each outfit? How precious.”

Her throat dried and she froze. The sensation wasn’t new, and she kicked herself for not seeing it before she gave them a dissertation on proper tailoring. They weren’t really interested, how could they be? They wore suits that cost four times the price tag of the one she wore that moment. They didn’t care about changing buttons, and they certainly didn’t care that she did in fact buy a whole new wardrobe and planned every outfit.

“Well at least you’re not wearing a pocket protector.”

That comment resulted in another round of giggles.

She tried to smile and not picture her father’s pocket protector. Yes, he had them and wore them. He said they protected his pockets, what more could he want?

As the women laughed, a numbness overtook her whole body. Lindsay realized where she wasn’t welcome and certainly didn’t fit. Something in her equations went amiss. She should have seamlessly melded in, but that only happened at one place, a tattoo shop off of Hollywood Boulevard.

What were they doing now? Deciding on dinner? Wondering where she went?

“So, you’re the funeral director of the financial set.” One of the men finally acknowledged her.

“What do you mean?” She glanced at Dillon, who simply stood there with a fabricated smile plastered on his face.

“No one ever gets good news from accountants.” He laughed once and everyone else joined in.

“It depends.” She glanced around. How did she become the butt of their jokes? “Garbage in, garbage out.”

“I suppose if you get a good accountant you get garbage in and riches out.” The man nodded. “Is that what you’re doing for his brother?”

“What?” The numbness turned to fire.

“You know Shane?” The brunette charged for her. “Dillon didn’t tell us.”

“You were too busy blabbing about girl stuff.” The man shook his head. “Dillon said his brother suckered you in to working for him. I don’t know why he needs anyone. He’s a star and his fame will protect him.”

“Being on television does not a success make.” Dillon stepped forward. “He’s teaching an entire generation how to be delinquent with him as the king of his world.” He waved a hand as if he was reading a billboard. “Soon they’ll give him his own show. It’ll be all fanfare and flair, all sizzle no steak.” He glared at her.

“Flash.” She inhaled wanting to thank him for making so many things clear for her. “It would be a show with fanfare and flash, and rather than sizzle and steak, he would have sushi.”

“Do you work for him?” The blonde asked. “Do you know Shane? Why didn’t you tell us?”

At that moment it hit her, what her life could be if she wasn’t a coward. Instead of answering questions about knowing Shane, she could have said they were dating. She could have told them that just last night, Shane Elliott sat in her bathroom with her while she threw up. That later, he kissed her in a way that made her do insane things, like not take him up on his invitation.

“He’s my best friend.” She averted her eyes. “We help each other out. He’s my best friend.” She cleared her throat and adjusted her purse strap. “If you would excuse me, I need to find the ladies room.”

“Lindsay.” Dillon reached for her arm.

“I’ll be right back.” She smiled and stepped away from the group. She pushed back against a door, and closed her eyes when she entered an unlit room. How come everything she wanted became crystal clear in the dark?

*~*~*

“You’re quiet tonight.” Angie laid back and showed Shane where she wanted her tattoo fixed.

“You don’t like the strong, silent type?” He tried a smile, but he couldn’t get it up, literally. There he was, staring right at an attractive woman’s inner thigh, getting a peek at her silk red panties, and his jeans weren’t even a tiny bit tighter. Lindsay honestly wasn’t going to show up. Was she going to blow him off entirely or at least call with her new found phone?

“I like your type.” She spread her leg a little wider. “Is this okay?”

Angie was what he needed, a woman who point blank said he was her type. He swallowed the acid in the back of his throat. Apparently he wasn’t Lindsay’s type. She was the kind to sample the goods and vanish.

Ivan stepped close. “Is our business manager coming tonight or not?”

“Why don’t you call and ask her?” He rubbed his gloved hand over the tattoo in question. Practically feeling Angie up, he still felt no reaction. But yesterday, just a touch of Lindsay’s lips nearly sent him into a stupor.

“I’ll just wait.” Ivan returned to his own customer.

In an attempt to get in the zone, he leaned over to assess what needed to be done. “Have you been in the sun?”

She pursed out her lip. “Just a little.”

“You need to stay out of the sun if you want this to look right.”

“Maybe you can take me out some night and I’ll be so tired, I won’t be able to get outside in the daylight.” She reached over and touched his Mohawk.

She asked him out and he exhaled, knowing he was probably the only man on the planet who realized the irony. However, he was not as indecisive as his business manager and he opened his mouth to respond.

“You’re chick is here.” Carson came by and slapped him on the shoulder. “I think she got caught in a storm.”

“You have a chick?” Angie leaned up on her elbows.

She came. Lindsay was there. With his stomach rolling, he lowered Angie’s leg and looked over to watch Lindsay tear into the shop. “I don’t know.” It took effort not to run to her. He stood and ripped his gloves off. If she came only to do her books, he would ask her to leave and they could take him to IRS jail.

With her chest heaving, Lindsay glanced around the room until she found him.

He ground his teeth, willing his feet not move, no matter how small and scared she looked with her dirty face and messed up suit, not to mention her hair. Something happened, but he couldn’t care what. He just couldn’t.

She came forward, her gaze falling on Angie with her exposed leg out at his station, and she stopped.

He shoved his hands in his pockets.

She blinked and continued her trek to him.

Still, he didn’t say a word. If she needed to talk she could start.

“Shane.” Her voice was no more than a cracked whisper.

“I’m right here.”

After another peek at Angie, she shut her eyes. “May I please talk to you?” She pointed to the private rooms.

“Is this about my accounting?” If she decided to give him another update on his reconciliations or whatever, he didn’t need to hear it.

She shook her head.

“All right.” Without touching her, he spun on his heel and charged to the back, her heels clicking on the linoleum floor behind him.

He guided Lindsay into the room first, closed the door, before leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. Until further notice, this was her show.

She paused and stared at her foot moving around one of the square patterns. Finally, she raised her head. “Shane will you please do me the honor of letting me take you out?”

Did she actually curtsy? As if on automatic pilot, he took a step forward. The guts it took for her to ask him made him want her all the more.

“I know I never formally accepted your invitation and I kept you waiting, so if you can’t do it Saturday, just let me know when would be good for you.” She held out her hand, stopping him. “That is if you want to.”

His heart melted, turning into a warm goo and soothing the sour acid swirling in his stomach all day. “I won’t let you take me out.”

The red in her cheeks instantly vanished.

“I will, however, take you out Saturday night.” He hooked his finger under her chin, tilting her face up. “It would be
my
honor.” Unable to resist how beautiful and worried she appeared, he bent down and gave her a soft kiss.

His lips roamed as he took in her smooth, flawless skin and light floral scented remnants of her perfume.

When Lindsay gasped and grabbed him around the waist, he became instantly aroused and he pulled her tight against him, pressing their cheeks together. While his guy downstairs lay dormant with Angie, he certainly came to life so close to Lindsay. “I missed you.”

“Me too.”

Suddenly, vintage punk rock music came over the speaker, and not one to pass an opportunity, he whispered. “I only slow dance.”

“Too bad it’s not mariachi music.”

They embraced and swayed, shifting their weight from one foot to the other. “Maybe a song about bucking society is more our speed.” He unclipped her barrette, allowing her hair to spill down her back. “You have beautiful hair.” He slowly trailed his lips, feather light along her jaw line.

Lindsay linked her fingers in his belt loops.

“You’re delicious.” Her flavor reminded him of butterscotch candies, sweet, creamy, and with that quality that made him either want to let his tongue linger, or dig in and take a bite. When she tilted her head granting him full access to her neck, he almost lost it.

“Shane?”

“Yes.” He moved against her and located her naked earlobe.

She whimpered when his tongue traced the outline of her ear. “Please Shane.”

“Oh, man.” He kissed her behind her ear and she pushed into him, grinding her body against his. “Lindsay, kiss me right now.” He gripped her chin to turn it up to him.

“Hey.” The door slammed open and Ivan charged in clapping. “There you two are.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Shane abruptly straightened and attempted to shield his girl. “What’s your problem?”

“I need Lindsay.” Ivan put his hands on his hips.

“She’s a little busy at the moment,” Shane growled.

“Yeah, well Angie’s bitching that you left her with her legs open a half hour ago.”

Shane arched his back when he felt Lindsay tense and dig her nails into his side. “How bad do you need Lindsay?”

“Enough to not care that I interrupted your make out session.” Ivan tapped his foot.

“All right.” He thought fast. “Five minutes with Lindsay and you take over with Angie.”

“Seven minutes.” Ivan crossed his arms. “And Angie sure as hell isn’t going to like it.”

 “Six minutes and I don’t care if Angie’s pissed.” Shane held his hand out for a shake.

“Six minutes, but you leave.” Ivan pointed to the door.