The One For Me (Danver #8)(4)

Mark gave her an assessing look before saying, “I’d rather talk about that somewhere other than the bathroom. Are you going to be sick?”

Thankfully, her bout of nausea seemed to have passed during their conversation. “I—think I’m okay now.”

Her growling stomach caused him to chuckle as he got to his feet and extended a hand to her. “Let’s go find something to eat. You’ll probably feel better after that.”

Not only was her body letting her know it needed food, but her bladder was also making its presence known loud and clear. “I—er, could you wait outside for a minute?”

Looking adorably confused, he asked, “Why?”

Could the man not take a hint? “I need to use the bathroom,” she mumbled, embarrassed to be having such a personal discussion with him.

Apparently, it wasn’t something that bothered him, though, because instead of leaving, he leaned against the wall. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave you in here alone. These floors are stone. If you pass out again, they could do serious damage.”

Her mouth dropped open, and she put her hands on her hips. “There is no way I’m peeing with you in here.”

Giving her a chastising look, he said, “Angel, not only have you already done it in front of me, I kept you from falling off the toilet and onto the floor. Not to mention, I had to—”

“Oh, my God—please stop!” She moaned in horror, knowing exactly what he’d been about to say. How could that have happened? What was wrong with her?

Quirking an amused brow, he stepped back through the doorway. “I’ll wait out here, but don’t close the door all the way in case I need to rescue you—again.”

Crystal pondered not only shutting the door but locking it as well. He’d probably just break the damn thing down, though. There was no way she could actually do her business with him so close. She was a timid tinkler at the best of times. Therefore, she turned the water on full blast in the sink and giggled as she imagined him wondering if she was flooding the bathroom.

After taking care of business, she washed her hands but left the water running. She needed a moment to process what had happened since she’d woken up here. How in the world had she ended up with Mark DeSanto? In what world did someone like her find herself in this sort of situation? The last thing she remembered was leaving work early because she hadn’t been feeling well and then throwing up on a pair of expensive shoes. Shit!

Please, no. Tell me I didn’t toss my cookies all over my fantasy man. Fate could not be that cruel. Then there was the issue of her clothing—or lack thereof. She was wearing what she could only guess was one of Mark’s shirts and her panties. She knew her bra was missing even before she confirmed that fact by pressing a hand against her chest. Had he—? No, surely she had been able to change her own clothing.

As her thoughts raced, she made the mistake of looking up and almost screamed at the sight of her reflection. Oh, sweet heaven, the image in the mirror staring back at her was beyond terrible. She looked like a rabid animal. Instead of nursing her to health, she was surprised he hadn’t called animal control to have her put down. Her hair was sticking out in all directions, and her eyes were puffy, bloodshot, and rimmed in black like a koala bear’s. Looking around frantically, she spotted a cabinet in the corner and said a silent prayer of thanks when she found a stack of washcloths as well as a comb inside it. She wet one and began washing her face.

Crystal was just attempting to tame her hair when Mark called out, “Are you all right in there?”

“I’m fine,” she yelled back before turning the water off. Grimacing at her reflection, she put the comb down and decided there wasn’t much more she could do at this point. She was in need of a shower, but that could wait until she got some answers from Mark. Schooling her features into an impassive line, she opened the door and tried not to drool in his direction. Did the man have to be so freaking hot? You probably wouldn’t have been stalking him for months at the office if he weren’t quite so good-looking, her inner voice chided.

She had been smitten with him practically from the first glimpse. Mia had caught her ogling him in the coffee shop of Danvers one morning. She’d unknowingly poured half a container of sugar in her coffee, while watching him add creamer to his. Then she’d done something completely juvenile and pulled her cell phone out to snap a picture of the unsuspecting hunk. She had thought him the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Tall, dark, and polished in his obviously expensive suit. He’d seemed so unaware of all of the female attention centered on him. One thing that had really drawn her attention was how he’d run a hand through his hair repeatedly as if stressed over something. Crystal had never been prone to developing crushes, but something had changed for her in that instant. There was no denying her attraction to him. She must have looked at the picture she had taken dozens of times, and her curiosity had been well and truly whetted.