Whispers from the Past (5 page)

Pleasure smothered my earlier resentment. I took a step closer to him. “You do not have to do this, Mark. I shall be careful and take the bike lanes—”

“No. Way.” His face grew somber. “I know you’ll be careful, but the drivers around here at night? Yeah, I don’t trust them. Please let me do this for you. It’s a gift to me, too.”

“I accept.” I checked behind me in the dining room. No one was there to watch. Lifting my lips to his, I gave him a quick kiss. “I shall look forward to ending my shifts with you.”

C
HAPTER
S
IX

C
AUTIOUS
E
XPLORATION

I spent Sunday morning mountain biking through Umstead with my dad. After cleaning up, I drove over to Marissa’s apartment. Susanna was standing in the middle of the living room, modeling the dorkiest clothes I’d ever seen on her. “Do you have to wear overalls at Lucy’s?”

“Yes.” She frowned down at them, huge, shapeless, rolled up at the ankles. “I bought the largest pair possible.”

“They are…big.” And ugly. Probably that was good for wearing on the job. She was hot enough without body-hugging clothes. “Why are you trying them on now?”

Her gaze met mine briefly before looking away. “Lucy has asked me to work this afternoon. I must leave soon.”

Irritation sliced through me. “When do you get off?”

“After closing.” She swallowed. “I work the day shift tomorrow. I’ll be home by five.”

Why didn’t she tell me this sooner? It was the weekend, and we’d barely had any time together. “Let’s go. I’ll take you.” Spinning on my heel, I headed for the truck. I hated her job, and it was only the second day.

When we arrived at the restaurant, she unbuckled her seatbelt but didn’t get out. “Mark, I do not like us to part this way.”

“Me neither.” Making an instant decision, I cut off the engine, hopped out, ran around to the passenger side, and wrenched open the door. “Come on,” I said, holding up my arms to help her out. But I didn’t immediately release her, pulling her against me instead. “I’ll eat a late lunch here.” I dropped a light kiss on her lips. “Can you bring my food to me?”

She smiled. “I cannot serve customers, but I can clear their tables.”

“I’ll be extra messy,” I said with a laugh.

The meatloaf was amazing, and the mashed potatoes rivaled my mom’s. I had a little on-purpose mishap with the salt shaker, one that required Susanna’s assistance. I didn’t feel bad about it, though. The dining room was empty except for me.

Before I left, she introduced me to Lucy and her coworkers. They all seemed nice, which was good. Or maybe not. If they hadn’t been, I would’ve had a reason to insist she quit.

As we were saying our good-byes, a Mercedes SUV rolled to a stop next to my truck. A guy in a leather jacket and jeans got out. Susanna watched him walk in. He waved, she waved back, and then he disappeared through the EMPLOYEES ONLY door.

“One of the staff?” I asked, not really seeing how that could be possible.

She shook her head. “I do not know how to describe Isaac. He is neither customer nor employee.” She picked up a rag and bottle of cleaner. “Perhaps we should call him a friend.”

Friend. Right. “I’ll see you at nine.”

She nodded automatically, her attention already consumed with cleaning the messy table I’d just vacated.

I awakened Monday morning in a pissed-off mood, which wasn’t improved by having quizzes in my first two classes. The day seemed to crawl by. I headed home, did a hard bike ride, showered, changed, and drove to the apartment complex.

Susanna was pushing her bike into the outside storage closet of their apartment when I pulled into a parking space. She didn’t look my way as she unlocked the front door and went inside.

The uniform for Lucy’s Farmhouse looked strange on Susanna. After months of seeing her in long skirts and the occasional pair of loose pants, it was taking some effort to adjust to this Susanna. Whenever I’d imagined her legs in denim, my mental picture had included tight jeans—not baggy overalls.

The door stood ajar. I rapped once as I walked in. “Hey.”

“Hello.” She looked up from the table, her hands stilling on a stack of mail.

I scooped her into my arms, my nose twitching at the odor of restaurant food clinging to her clothes.

“What is wrong?” she asked.

I shrugged. “You smell like fried chicken.”

Her hands splayed across my chest and pushed hard. Surprised, I took a step back.

Her chin lifted. “Perhaps you should warn me before you come over. I can bathe in rose-scented soap if that is your preference.”

“Where did that come from?” I had ached all day to be near her, and this was how she greeted me? “Are you trying to pick a fight?”

“I am expressing dismay at your lack of respect for my choices.”

Here was proof that girls had
passive-aggressive
in their DNA. Susanna had it down and she’d been born in the eighteenth century. “We’ve hardly spent any time together in the past two days. You’re—” I stopped talking before I said something stupid.

“Go ahead, Mark.”

“You’re wearing yourself out over a job that doesn’t pay much.”

“I am an adult. I must earn a living.”

“Your handwriting job makes money.”

“It isn’t enough to support me. I’m saving it for emergencies.” She watched me through narrowed eyes. “My job is honest work at a fair wage. Your attitude distresses me.”

When she talked that way, it made me crazy. “It distresses me to see what wiping tables does to you.”

“Indeed.” Her jaw tightened. “The people I served this day did not notice I was there. Perhaps you should take a lesson from them. Ignore me when I reek so much that it ruins your mood.”

“Shit, Susanna. That’s not how I feel.”

She disappeared down the hallway leading to the rear of the apartment.

We were
not
done with this conversation. I glanced at the clock. I had a little while before I had to head home. What should I do? Follow her? Wait out here?

She hadn’t closed the door to her bedroom. I wandered down the hall, not wanting to make things worse, not sure how to make them better. “Are you running away again?” I halted in her doorway, scanning the small space until I located her in the shadows of the closet. She whirled around. The red T-shirt lay in a puddle by her feet and the overalls were bunched around her hips. From the waist up, she wore nothing but a camisole—tight, white, and nearly sheer.

I froze, unable to tear my gaze away. Our physical relationship had made progress in recent weeks, but with Susanna, that still meant slow. We’d graduated to the point where, as long as we were both fully dressed, I could touch her freely. She hadn’t been as bold with me.

So, to see her now in just a cami? Damn. Her curves were gorgeous; her breasts, amazing.

Since the day I met Susanna, I hadn’t felt the slightest bit of interest in any other girl. It had just been my luck to fall for someone who’d been raised to believe that any kind of contact before marriage was sinful. I’d spent nine long months waiting for her to catch up, and I would continue to wait as long as it took. But there she was—with her pleading eyes, trembling lips, and a smoking body that made me shake…

I rushed across the room, trapping her between me and the wall. Taking her soft sigh as encouragement, I dropped one hand to the warmth of her waist and slipped the other to her breast, cupping her through silky fabric that might as well have been a second skin. I looked into her face—seeking a sign that this was too much. That I’d gone too far.

There was no fear in the beautiful depths of her eyes. She slipped her hands beneath the sleeves of my shirt. Her cautious exploration unleashed something feverish inside me. I pressed kisses to her jaw while my hands roamed. When she inclined her head, giving me more access to her neck, I took the invitation, my mouth open and hot, moving lower.

“God, Mark, you are a horny mess.” My sister’s voice came from the doorway behind me, splashing over me like cold water.

I went still. Susanna gasped and laid her forehead against my chest, her hands fisting between us.

Without turning around, I muttered, “Did you learn anything from over there, Marissa?”

“Nah, don’t think so. I have a few years’ head start on you.” A floorboard creaked under her feet. “Are you okay, Susanna?”

“We are fine,” she replied, shifting against me in ways that made me even more uncomfortable than I’d already been.

“Okay, if you’re sure. I’ll be taking a shower.” Footsteps crossed the hall to the master bedroom. Its door banged shut.

I didn’t move, waiting for some indication from Susanna about what would happen next and, in the interim, perfectly willing to watch the rise and fall of her chest in that cami.

When she pressed a kiss to the skin exposed at the collar of my shirt, I closed my eyes briefly and swallowed a groan.

“I am trying,” she whispered. “Truly, I am.”

“I know you are.” I kissed her and then stepped back.

Susanna knelt, grabbed the red T-shirt, and dragged it on. When her head reappeared, she was staring at my chin.

“Look at me, please, babe.”

Her gaze slowly rose to mine.

“Did you mean what you said to my sister? Are we fine?”

She nodded jerkily. “I love you, Mark. Always. And I
was
picking a fight.”

I guessed it was my turn at the whole confession thing. “I don’t like your job, for a lot of reasons.”

A calm mask descended over her face, except her eyes. They blazed with intensity. “Perhaps it would be best if you did not remind me again that my job is beneath you.”

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

S
EDUCTIVE
T
HOROUGHNESS

Mark left before his sister completed her shower. He claimed to have hours of homework to complete. I did not argue.

I had a bowl of beef stew and cornbread awaiting Marissa when she emerged, wrapped in a robe.

“If I’d known how much fun it was to have you as a roommate,” she said as she slid onto a chair, “I would’ve asked you to move in the minute I got back to Raleigh.”

“Then you are pleased with the arrangement?”

“Sure am.” She picked up her spoon. “My brother thinks I take advantage of you, though.”

I blinked in surprise. “How?”

“He thinks that chores should be your only contribution. He doesn’t want you paying a cent.”

“It isn’t Mark’s place to comment on our terms.”

She laughed. “That’s what I told him, too.” She ate her first spoonful of stew and moaned. “Susanna, this is amazing.”

“Thank you.” I considered my portion but felt little interest in eating at present. I was too tired to enjoy a meal, and my time with Mark—both the argument and the burning need from the kisses that followed—had unsettled me. “Marissa, perhaps this is too personal of a question, but I should like to ask it anyway.”

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “I can’t wait to hear your version of a personal question.”

A blush bloomed in my cheeks. “Do you use birth control?”

“That
is
a personal question.” She set her spoon on the table. “But I don’t mind answering. I take birth control pills.”

I stared into my bowl, wondering if it would be inappropriate to continue.

“Anything else you want to know?”

I nodded, glad that she was willing. “Why do you take those pills if you are not…with someone?”

“To be ready for when I am. As a bonus, your periods go better when you’re on the pill.”

“How?”

“You can predict them exactly. And if you have pain with your periods, the pill can help that too.”

“Indeed?” These were interesting and welcome reasons. “Why do not all women take birth control pills, then?”

“They make some women sick.” She smiled. “Would you like me to take you to the county health department?”

“The place where I receive my vaccinations?”

“Yeah. There are other health care things they can help you with, and birth control is one of them.” She reached for her phone and brought up her calendar. “I’ll tell you what. Let me know when you have a day off. We’ll head down there and let them explain all of the various types of birth control methods to you. Afterwards, we could go out to lunch.”

“Perhaps I shall.” If I pursued this idea, it might make it easier to yield about my physical relationship with Mark. Did I truly want that?

“We’re also shopping for your first pair of jeans. My treat.”

“Marissa, I don’t—”

“You’re gorgeous, Susanna. You need to work your assets. And really, this is as much for my brother as it is for you. Okay?”

“Perhaps.”

The smile left her face. She reached over and clasped both of my hands. “Do these questions have anything to do with the scene I interrupted in your bedroom?”

I nodded.

“Do you worry that he’ll get tired of waiting for…?” Her eyebrows arched high.

My blush deepened at her candor. She was, after all, my boyfriend’s sister. “Marissa, I cannot be entirely comfortable speaking of this with you.”

“That’s okay. I’m comfortable enough for the both of us.” She regarded me with a speculative gleam in her eye. “My mom thinks you and Mark are sexually active, but I know you’re not.”