Be Mine- Marilyn Marshal

“Returning to the scene of the crime?” Nora Styles asked as she stared at the dark-haired man standing on her porch. She supposed the polite response to his presence was to invite him in. And she would… in a minute. But first she was going to make him work for it.

Dante Mateo, all six feet of dark-eyed, arrogant handsomeness, narrowed his gaze. “You're not going to make this easy, are you?” he asked.

Nora smiled. “No, would you, if you were me?”

He surprised her by flashing a grin. “No, I wouldn't.”

“An honest man.” she bumped the door open wider with her hip and stepped back to let him in. “It's a miracle”.

He moved into the house. Nora let the screen door slam into place, but left the thick wooden door open. It was summer in Kelptown, and plenty warm. The breeze would be nice. Plus- and this was the part she would never admit to Dante - having the door open meant there weren't totally alone. Okay, they were alone, but it didn't feel so intimate. And based on what had happened the last time they'd been together in this house, that was a good thing.

Dante paused in the middle of her living room, as if not sure where to go. His head turned slightly and she had a feeling he was glancing down the hall- towards her bedroom. No doubt remembering what had happened some five months ago.

Nora wanted to say it hadn't been her fault- that everyone was allowed to be stupid on valentine's day. Or in her case, Valentine's day night. Only she had known exactly what she was doing and it had been as wonderful and disastrous as anyone could have imagined. Now both she and Dante were going to have to deal with the consequences.

He turned to her face, then motioned to the sofa. “We should probably have a seat,”

“Will that make things easier for you?” She asked.

“If yes, will you sit?”

“Probably,”

“Then yes. It makes things easier.”

Nora settled in one of the club chair while Dante took the sofa.

He moved with controlled power. It was the former professional athletic thing, she thought, watching him sit down. At the risk of sounding like a groupie, she had firsthand knowledge that the man knew how to use his body. Of course, the last time she'd been in his presence, she hadn't been interested in sitting. Or talking. But then neither had he. They'd practically tumbled over each other in their race to her bedroom. He'd -

Nora pushed the very visceral memories away. Yes, Dante had been delicious in bed. But then things had gone downhill, she needed to remember what was important. He was here about a job. Not his unrequited lust for he. Based on how he'd been avoiding her for the past several months, when it came to her, he was plenty requited.

But he was also in a bit of a pickle.

The old-fashioned phrase made her want to smile. Yup, Dante needed her. Not in a delusional take me now kind of way, but for business. She was a party planner and he wanted to plan a really big business event. He was stuck and she was his way out. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, circumstances went her way. So after five months of being able to ignore her and that single night, he'd been forced to see her. Was it so wrong of her to enjoy the moment? She thought perhaps not.

She rested her hands flat on her thighs and looked at him. “How can I help you?”

His dark gaze settled on her face. “Really, you're not going to admit you know what any of this is all about?”

She blinked deliberately, then opened her eyes wide.

“When you made your appointment to speak with me, you didn't mention a subject.” Of course she knew why he was here , but yet again, a little emotional torture seemed the right kind of payback.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “All right. We'll play this your way. I am Dante Mateo. I'm a partner at Rave P F C.”

She grinned. “I know who you are Dante. We don't have to pretend that much. Just tell me what you want and we'll move on from there.”

“He swore under his breath. “You're friends with Hilda. You've done work for her. How long are you going to punish me?”

He was right about Hilda. She and Nora were friends and had worked together several times. Rave P F C, the PR firm in question, had moved to Kelptown just after the first of the year. Three of the partners were former Sars Players and Hilda was the glue that held the company together.

“I haven't completely decided how long you should be punished,” she admitted, wondering if batting her eyes again would be too I er-the-top.

He sighed heavily. “Fine. We'll do this your way. Now that we've moved our business here, my partners and I want to have a big party for our clients. We've booked a hotel, but that's as fast as the planning has gotten.”

“A party,” she breathes, and pressed her hand to her chest. “That sounds great, really nice.”

*****

In truth, being a neurosurgeon or the person who used to land the space shuttle probably made the top-ten list of jobs designed to give a person an ulcer. Jung-woo would guess whoever was in charge of the ball dropping in The Cabdagasca on New year's eve probably had a few sleepless nights. But he would add that being a kicker for the Sars team had it's moments of stress. When he's been with the Lake Dragons, he'd been responsible for twenty-four wins, including five during play-off games and one Super Bowl victory. He knew what it was like to have everyone watching him, both in person and on TV, and have his job performance critiqued endlessly.