Until Now

“And you called me the heartbreaker,” he went on, shaking his head while his eyes danced with humor.

Amazing, Marshall didn’t seem perturbed by anything. He had the carefree manner of a man who had it easy in life.

“I’m sorry if you think—”

“Here’s the interesting thing, Tamara. Nigel’s my best friend. We work together. So whether or not you give me your number, I’ll be seeing you again. So why don’t we get past this game part—as fun as it is—and just exchange numbers now.”

“My, my, my. You certainly have a way with women, don’t you?”

Marshall threw his head back and laughed. “Am I coming off too strong? Sorry. It’s just...” His eyes roamed over her face. “Damn, I’m not sure what it is. All I know is that I’m interested.”

“What exactly are you interested in?”

“In getting to know you better.”

Tamara felt a little woozy again and knew she needed to splash some cold water over her face. “Can we please continue this conversation when I come out of the bathroom?”

“Sorry. Of course.”

Tamara found the door to the restroom a few steps away. Before she went inside, she glanced over her shoulder.

Marshall was still there, waiting for her.

He grinned. “I’ll be right here.”

Tamara said nothing, just escaped into the bathroom. Once inside, she headed directly to the sink, turned on the faucet and then splashed her face with cold water.

Tamara raised her head and looked at her reflection. Not only did she feel out of sorts, she looked a little flushed. She didn’t think she had overdone it with the alcohol, but perhaps the punch had pushed her over the edge.

For goodness’ sake, what had she gotten herself into with Marshall? She hadn’t expected him to be like a dog with a bone.

“He sees this whole thing as a game,” she said to her reflection. “He’ll get bored soon enough.”

She should have known that with a man like Marshall, once she had taken on the role of the mouse, he would take on the role of the cat.

Taking one of the hand towels from a wicker basket, she delicately dried her face. She was feeling even more light-headed than minutes ago and wondered if she was coming down with something.

She went into a stall and then came out and washed her hands. Perhaps she should just put Marshall out of his misery now. Tell him that she knew who he was because he had played this very game with her cousin. And she’d heard about him with other women, as well.

The Marshall she had known years ago had loved the chase. And he was good at conquering.

All of the time spent with him this evening had proved to Tamara that he hadn’t changed over the years.

The heir to the auto fortune that his father had built, Marshall went after women as though it was a sport. Callie told her that he’d never been married. He was what now—thirty-four, thirty-five? It wasn’t a crime to be single at that age, but Tamara would bet her last dollar that Marshall didn’t want to settle down because he didn’t believe in commitment.

Which had actually made him a perfect candidate for flirting with tonight. Their banter had been entertaining and had totally kept her from thinking about Patrick.

She exited the bathroom, noting that she seemed to be walking a little bit unsteadily. As promised, Marshall was standing there, waiting.

Her eyes roamed over him from head to toe. The black suit that looked like a million dollars on him. He truly was one incredibly fine specimen of a man. There was no doubt as to why the women swooned over him.

“You want to get to know me better,” Tamara said without preamble as she walked toward him. “Really get to know me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then how’s this?” None too gracefully, she closed the distance between them. And as she eased up on her toes, the thought that came into her mind was that she was definitely drunk. Because she had no clue why she was doing what she was doing...nor could she stop herself.

Completely out of character, Tamara tipped up on her toes and planted her lips firmly on his. She gripped his shoulders, more for support than anything, and after about five seconds, she ended the kiss as quickly as she had initiated it.

Easing back, she looked up at Marshall. Saw the confusion on his face. And felt it in herself as her head swam.

Why’d she just do that?

Marshall’s expression said that he was stunned but also delighted. He raised an eyebrow. “Wow.”

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” she asked, her tongue feeling heavy. “To score?”

“Come again?”

She took a step backward, swaying unsteadily. “I gave you what you wanted, so now you can move on. The chase is over.”

Marshall frowned. “You kiss me like that, and then you tell me...”

Tamara didn’t hear the rest of what Marshall was saying, because the room began to spin violently. She reached out but there was nothing to grab onto.

“Tamara?” she heard him say.

The last conscious memory she had was of strong arms encircling her waist.

And then the world went black.

* * *

Holding Tamara’s limp body in his arms, Marshall looked down at her with a sense of disbelief. What the heck had just happened?

Her eyes were closed and her plump lips were slightly parted. She was undoubtedly out cold.

Marshall felt for a pulse. It was there, and it was strong. Her breathing was shallow but steady.

He had seen this before. Women who drank too much. Suddenly, the alcohol hit them, and they passed out.

The weird thing was, she hadn’t exhibited any signs of being inebriated earlier. She hadn’t lost her footing on the dance floor, and her speech hadn’t been slurred. It had been only moments before she faltered that he’d realized something was wrong.

“Tamara,” he called softly. She said nothing.

He scooped her up into his arms and carried her toward the nearby sofa. He sat her down beside him and propped her head against his shoulder. “Tamara?” he said again.

All he heard in response was the sound of her breathing.