The One For Me(2)

By: Sydney Landon

Anything beyond that was doubtful. He didn’t like to muddy the waters where he worked. That was not to say he’d never made an exception, but he tried not to.

When she’d jerked around to face him a few moments ago, he’d felt a jolt of electricity shoot through his body. He wasn’t a man prone to romantic foolishness, but there had been songs written to describe women like her. Wide eyes close to violet in color. Plump pink lips that made a man’s cock sit up and take notice, and a flawless peaches-and-cream complexion that some paid millions for but never achieved.

He had still been gaping at her as she’d assured him that she was fine before she further shocked him by vomiting and promptly passing out. She had been seconds away from her beautiful face meeting the unforgiving concrete when he’d caught her. As he stood with her light weight in his arms, a black Bentley sedan pulled to the curb. His driver, Denny—who was also his cousin on his mother’s side of the family—got out of the car gawking as if in disbelief of what he was seeing. As far as the employer/employee relationship, theirs was very informal. They’d grown up together, and although Mark’s family had money from the DeSanto side, Denny’s did not. So years ago Denny had proposed that he become Mark’s driver and assistant when Mark had taken over the family business, and it had worked well for both of them. Mark compensated Denny more than probably anyone employed in a similar position, but he trusted him implicitly.

“I’m almost afraid to ask what you did to that girl, but if I’m going to become some kind of accessory, then I guess I need to know.” Denny sighed in resignation.

Walking toward his driver in shoes that sloshed with every step, Mark shook his head helplessly. “I have no idea. She was weaving as she walked, and then she got sick and fainted.”

Denny wrinkled up his nose as the smell finally reached him. “Shouldn’t we do something with her? I mean, do you think she’s drunk?”

“How in the hell am I supposed to know?” he snapped. “I didn’t smell any alcohol, and it’s barely midday. Also, she just left Danvers, so it seems unlikely.”

“Then we need to get a doctor. She obviously has something wrong with her,” Denny pointed out.

Rolling his eyes, Mark said, “You think? Open the car door so I can get her inside.” Denny jogged ahead and had the door ajar when Mark reached him. “Here, you’re going to have to hold her for a minute. Then you can give her back to me when I’m inside.”

Denny held his hands up, trying to back away. “She’s got puke on her. Can’t you just get in with her? There’s no need to ruin both of our clothes.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Denny, I’ll get you a new suit. Just take her for one second.” Mark couldn’t believe how hard it was for two men to juggle such a tiny woman. Finally, as Denny gently handed her off to him and shut the door, Mark slumped against the leather seat with her curled against him. Since he had no idea of her name, he rubbed his hand along her leg as he said, “Angel, open those eyes and look at me so I’ll know you’re okay.”

He continued to say variations of the same thing as Denny started driving. He had almost given up when she finally shifted in his arms.

Suddenly, the violet eyes that had captivated him earlier were staring at him with an expression that was hard to decipher. He was too stunned to react when she lifted her hand and stroked it down the side of his face. “Oh, Mark, it’s you—can we please have sex this time before I wake up?” No sooner had she finished the question than her head dropped back to his chest. If not for the soft snore that emitted from her mouth, he would have been checking her for a pulse.

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