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.
Chapter Three
She was going to kill him. The moment she got Mark Smith aside later, in private, she would rip him limb from limb. Being drawn and quartered would be too good a death for him.
Lisa tried to contain herself as the waiter set down her plate. While she’d planned on eating dinner, she hadn’t planned on eating her meal out here, with all the paying guests.
Of all the infernal things…Mark Smith was impossible. First he kissed her and left with another woman, and now…could he not see that she did not need defending? She did not need him to be some pompous Sir Galahad from theArthurian period. She did not need him to gallop to her rescue, much less misguidedly believe he should.
She had a job to do—one she was very competent at, thank you very much—and said job did not include sitting next to him, eating chicken divan and drinking the glass of white wine he’d bought for her at the cash bar.
The man had knocked her down, out and slightly sideways, but Lisa was a consummate rebounder. Always had been, always would be. No man ever got the best of her—except Mark Smith. Tonight he was two for two. Count the wedding reception and you had three times too many.
She controlled her tapping foot, lest her internal seething become too obvious to her tablemates. She’d literally been had. Shortly after their return to the ballroom, Herb had greeted Mark like a long-lost son. And when Mark had repeated his request, Herb had insisted that of course Lisa should occupy the empty seat as Mark’s companion.
So here she was, enduring polite small talk with a way-too-good-looking, arrogant man who had rattled her cage. Didn’t he realize she didn’t want him leaning close? Didn’t he understand he didn’t have the right to whisper in her ear after what he’d done?
But then, wasn’t he just being true to his stripes? Mark was the type of man who wouldn’t even recognize his obnoxious behavior. And while tonight Lisa could watch her step and stay aloof, something inside her still wanted to flirt with danger.
For Lisa, Mark Smith had always been danger. The man was too darn sexy for his own good. His smile had always been to die for; those dark eyebrows arched perfectly over brown bedroom eyes.
But what really made matters worse was that tonight, even eight years later, Lisa couldn’t say she was immune. Despite his actions following their kiss, when he turned up the charm, Mark was like a beacon in the night to which women naturally gravitated.
Part of her screamed, Run! while the other part claimed she was a big girl now and she should toy with Mark Smith, serve him some well-earned payback.
He had led her on, promised her things, given her momentary hope that dreams do come true. Oh, she admitted to herself at least that when she’d first met Mark eleven years ago, she’d fallen hard and fast. She’d had the biggest schoolgirl crush, which was pathetic considering that he’d only come for a weekend visit to see his sister during their freshman year of college.
For the first time in Lisa’s life, the outgoing class leader had found herself tongue-tied. She’d simply been aware of him. When she’d managed to find her voice, their conversations would be charged and heated, often a series of put-downs. She knew her reasons—by slamming him, she could pretend she wasn’t interested. That she was aloof. Unaffected.
All lies. Her crush had never waned, although she deliberately dated people just to prove her immunity to the man. Why not? Crushes were juvenile, and it was clear Mark wasn’t pining for her. Lisa heard enough stories over the years from Joann to determine that Mark wasn’t anywhere close to Lisa’s type.
As was tradition, Mark had followed in his father and grandfather’s legacy and attended the University of Missouri–Rolla and joined the Pi Kappa Alpha fraternity. While Tori, Joann and Cecile had made the yearly pilgrimage to Rolla for St. Patrick’s Day festivities, Lisa had often skipped, knowing she’d hear about the wildness anyway. The stories had often centered on Mark’s exploits.
For four years Joann had described edited versions of Mark’s escapades. It was obvious that Joann adored her fraternal twin brother despite what she referred to as his flagrant indiscretions. In other words, Mark Smith was a rogue playboy to the nth degree.
So Mark had reached a mythic disproportion, and his branding kiss had simply seared his reputation firmly and forever into Lisa’s mind, making it ironic that she was now his “date” to her own fund-raising event.
Instead of fading into the woodwork, taking notes and drumming up potential political alliances, she was subject to Bradley’s displeasure and Andrea’s soon-to-occur endless questioning. The redhead’s wink and thumbs-up when Mark had pushed in Lisa’s chair had said volumes.
One thing certainly hadn’t changed about Mark Smith. He’d been cocky and self-assured when she’d first met him and he obviously was the same now, if not even more so.
She had to admit, she’d never seen Bradley Wayne so floored as when Mark had announced his ultimatum. Perhaps there was some justice in the world. Bradley, who was hovering on the room’s periphery, had been a little hard to deal with this past year after she’d left his employ and begun working for herself.
He could only be described as a micromanager and nitpicker. He would become even more impossible henceforth, that was a given. Not ever having met Bradley, and just from Lisa’s conversations, Joann despised him and had railed against the man for years. She would probably pat her brother on the back for what he’d done.
“What’s so funny?” Mark’s whisper tickled Lisa’s ear, his warm breath bringing her back to the reality that he was seated only ten tantalizing inches to her left.
And this time Lisa wasn’t a silly freshman who’d lost her voice. This time she wasn’t some starry-eyed bridesmaid high on wedding magic and illusions. She was all grown-up. Confident. Daring. Definitely a woman who could hold her own against the playboy whose conquests had been regaled and reviled over many cups of morning coffee.
Maybe some torture before she killed him for out-maneuvering her and probably hundreds of other women was in order.
She’d never considered herself a knockout; to be honest, she knew she was far from “ten” status. While she’d never grace the big screen or a rock video, she knew beauty was all about attitude and she’d learned to work with what