“It came with the car,” she managed to wheeze.
He looked around him for another moment before putting the key in the ignition. “I can’t see a man ever buying one of these. I’m going to have to turn in my man card after driving the damn thing home.”
“Ah, come on,” she teased. “Aren’t you secure enough in your masculinity to handle a small vehicle? Your Porsche is about the same size.”
“Angel, a Porsche is all testosterone. This—whatever it is—is strictly for those with a vagina.”
He teased her about her beloved Beetle for the five minutes it took to get to his house. Despite the ugly scene with her mother, she found herself able to relax for the first time in days. He’d brought her here instead of taking her home. Obviously, he hadn’t caught the part in her mother’s rant about Bill. She had to tell him, though, before something that was essentially innocent was blown out of proportion.
Mark parked the car and then took one last look at the flower vase before shaking his head and getting out. He walked to her side, opening her door and holding out a hand to her. He didn’t release his hold on her as he punched in some numbers on the garage keypad, raising the door so that they could walk through and access the kitchen entrance. He led her to a barstool, then took a bottle of amber-colored liquor from the cabinet and poured generous measures into two glasses. He pushed one of them in front of her, saying, “I believe this evening calls for something more than wine.”
She took a tentative sip and felt like her throat was flaming. She gasped as she tried to breathe. Mark chuckled while tapping her on the back. “Holy crap,” she croaked. “What is this stuff? Gasoline?”
“That’s scotch, Angel—the good stuff. Now be a good girl and drink up.” She had just taken another sip when he added, “Because when you’re finished, we’re going to discuss the fact that you’ve been seeing a marriage counselor with your ex-husband one day and riding my cock the next.”
That was all it took; she spit the fiery liquid across the granite countertop, with some of it splattering the front of Mark’s suit. “I—you . . . heard,” she blurted out before stopping abruptly. God, that didn’t sound good at all. Instead of her knee-jerk reaction, it might have been a better idea to play dumb, at least until she’d collected her wits enough to have a rational discussion.
“I already knew, Angel,” he said flatly.
“You did?” She gaped up at him. Shit, she just kept making this worse on herself.
He removed his now-damp suit jacket and tie, draping them over one of the spare stools. Then he settled across from her. When she remained quiet, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “My parents told me about it on their surprise visit this week.”
She couldn’t have heard him correctly. How could his parents possibly know what she did in her private life? “Could you repeat that?” she asked, unable to make sense of anything at this point.
He sighed. “When my parents showed up, it was to nose into my personal life. Apparently, it had trickled down the family grapevine that I was seeing a woman. Since it’s . . . unusual, they felt the need to invade not only my privacy, but yours as well. During the course of that, they ran across the fact that you were divorced but appeared to be on the verge of reconciling with your husband. Or at least your recent trip to a marriage counselor seemed to suggest that.”
“Oh, my God,” Crystal gasped, before jumping to her feet. “They told you that?” When he nodded, she put her hands in her hair, more embarrassed than she’d probably ever been in her life—and that was saying something. What kind of person must they think she was to be dating their son while trying to get back together with her husband? A harlot, that’s what they think. Probably the gold-digging variety, no less. As she paced the kitchen, she muttered to herself, “Their son finally has a girlfriend, and she’s a bona fide tramp. Boy, that’s just something you want to put on your family newsletter and holiday cards. Oh look, here’s Mark and his slut of a lady friend. They’re very happy together—when she’s not dating her ex-husband.” Crystal paused in her rant when it registered that Mark was laughing so hard he was shaking. “What in the world do you find so funny?” she yelled. “This is a disaster of epic proportions, and you’re amused?”
He held up a finger as if asking for one second while he fought to control his mirth. “Sorry, Angel,” he managed to get out. She stood with her hands on her hips, glaring, which didn’t seem to faze him at all. He got up and walked to where she was standing and slid an arm around her waist, pulling her into his arms. She stood stiffly before letting out a huff and melting into his embrace. “I’m sorry they did that to you, Angel, and I promise that it’s been dealt with. But you do owe me an explanation, don’t you think?”