Quick Fix (17 page)

“You okay?” he said as he eased back into traffic.

“Yeah. Sure. Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” I perked up my voice as much as I could and told myself to stop thinking. I was pretty sure thinking would do no good in a situation like this.

I especially didn’t want to think about how I’d always fantasized about Mark being the one who’d someday divest me of my virginity. On his sailboat. At sunset. In the summer, off the coast of one of the Keys, after dining on lobster and caviar, with a dessert of strawberries dipped first in champagne and then powdered sugar, lovingly fed to each other.

Not that I’d dwelled on it overmuch.

And not that I ever really thought it would happen. Only, now it never
could
happen, and that was kind of sad. Death of a fantasy.

Mark darted a sideways glance at me, then focused on traffic, a thoughtful look on his face. “You hear anything from Billy?”

I jerked. “What? Why would you ask that? I was at James’s. But you know that—of course you know that—you’re here, aren’t you? You came to get me. Anyway, James sent me to his place to sleep. I slept.” All technically true. I
had
slept after Devon left. Not for long, but enough.

“I just thought Billy might contact you before any of the rest of us.”

Was Mark talking more slowly than usual, or did it just seem that way compared to the speed of my thoughts? I didn’t want to lie, so I changed the subject. And slowed my tongue down. “James didn’t call me. Is Molly better? Did he fix her?”

“Not as of half an hour ago. Thomas and Brian are already at the lab. We’re going to have to decide what to do next.”

“Thomas? I thought he went with Laura. How is she, anyway?”

“She’s stable. There’s a doctor with her, a good one. Right now she needs rest more than anything, and Thomas playing mother hen was agitating her. Harvey sent him away.”

“I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me the background there? What is Laura to Thomas?”

He shrugged. Not that I’d really expected an answer.

“Why does everything have to be such a big mystery? It gets old after a while, you know,” I grumped. Like grumping had ever done me any good with Mark.

“It’s not my story to tell, Howdy. Ask Thomas.”

“I did. He won’t talk about it. What’d you do? Steal her away from him? Did she break his heart?”

He smiled, a genuine one. “You have a lot of faith in my prowess. I think you’re overestimating me.”

“Your prowess works just fine,” I said wryly.

“Not with you, apparently.” He glided smoothly between lanes, moving at a good clip without ever giving the appearance of rushing.

“Oh, come on. You never wanted me. Don’t pretend you were serious.”

He pulled into a parking garage off a side street near the lab. Found a spot almost at once, pulled into it, and set the brake. He turned to me, caressed the back of my head, and pulled me toward him before I could think to protest. “Maybe I’m serious now.”

His kiss brought every memory I had of the boat in Sweden crashing in on me.
Shit.
This was not good. This was not the kind of person I was. Granted, I hadn’t had a lot of experience with men, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t the type to bounce between two of them like a tennis ball at Wimbledon.

At least, I didn’t want to be that type. I wasn’t a cheater.

But
was
this cheating? I mean, Billy and I hadn’t really defined our relationship. We hadn’t declared anything openly, had we? Or was I just rationalizing?

The higher me, the superego me, the part with a conscience, said,
You weasel! You just made love to another man—fidelity should be implied
.

But the id me, the if-it-feels-good-do-it me, wasn’t listening. Probably the pounding of my heart drowned the higher me out.

It was all so
confusing
.

I felt Mark’s hand on my neck stroking the hollow of my throat with his thumb, dipping lower to loosen the top button of my blouse. I was going to protest, really I was, but … I didn’t. Part of me knew I’d feel ashamed later, but honestly? I was too overwhelmed at the moment to care.

His lips trailed after his hand, and then his head lifted. I held my breath and waited. When the pause stretched to be uncomfortably long, I opened my eyes and found him staring at the tops of my breasts. Well, at one spot in particular—a love mark left there by Billy.
Crap.
Why hadn’t I noticed that when I’d showered earlier? It was too late to adapt it away now.

The eyes that lifted to mine weren’t as cold as I expected them to be. In fact, they were kind of understanding, which was somehow even worse. He rebuttoned my blouse while I stared at my elbow. I couldn’t look at his face again. When he was done straightening my collar, he dropped a kiss on my head and got out of the car.

“Mark,” I said in a small voice, once he came around to my side to open the door for me—a gentlemanly action that served to remind me in a painful way I wasn’t acting like much of a lady. “I … I…” But I couldn’t finish.

“It’s all right. Don’t worry about it.”

Damn it. He was going to be nice. I can’t handle nice when I feel like shit about myself.

The phrase “burst into tears” has always seemed melodramatic to me, but this time it was an apt descriptor. Huge sobs blasted from me, tears exploding from my eyes onto Mark’s tailored blue shirt, splattering it with dark spots. I don’t know who was more surprised, me or him.

Mortified, I tried to turn away from him, but he wrapped his arms around me and tucked me against his chest, cradling my head in one large hand. I boo-hooed for freaking
ever,
until all the dark spots on his shirt morphed into one huge, ugly blob. Great. Now I had a ruined shirt on my conscience, too.

Mark didn’t say anything. He just hugged me, barely moving in a twisty, rocking kind of motion that eventually soothed me down to the trickle I was more accustomed to when I cried.

“Bad night?” he finally said quietly. Probably afraid to trigger another outburst.

“N-no. It was an incredible night. God, I think I might love him. But then, when you kiss me, I think I still…” Another small squall, patted away by Mark’s careful hand. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Not a damn thing, Howdy.”

“Then why … I mean, how…?” I took a deep breath, looked up at him, and plunged through it. “How can I feel what I feel when you kiss me if I really love Billy? What kind of awful person
am
I?”

“Tell me something. Did you and Billy elope?” he said.

“
What?
No way!”

“Did he propose? Got a wedding planned?”

“Of course not,” I said, beginning to see what he was getting at.

“Then you’re not awful. And you feel what you feel because I’m a damn good kisser. I thought we’d established that in Sweden,” he said with just enough humor that it didn’t sound egotistical.

“You are that,” I said with a short, dry laugh.

He smiled. “Or maybe it’s just leftovers from that crush you were telling me about, huh? I hear tell crushes are powerful things.” He was teasing now. It made me feel a little better.

“Maybe,” I admitted. “And maybe it’s time I grew up.”

“You’ve grown up just fine, Ciel. Don’t worry. Things will work out.”

“You’re not mad at Billy?”

“Sure I am. I’m tempted to punch his lights out, but not for loving you. If he drags you any further into this mess he’s in the middle of, though, there isn’t an aura he can hide behind that will keep me from making his life hell.” He took my hand and started walking toward the exit. “Come on. The others will be waiting.”

“Your shirt…” I could fix the ravages of my tear storm with some tissues and a simple adaption—in fact, I already had—but his shirt was still a soggy mess.

“I’ll tell them I spilled a drink on myself.”

“Ha. Mr. Coordinated spill something? They’ll never buy it.”

“Okay, I’ll tell them you spilled a drink on me.”

Now, that they’d believe.

“Hey, wait a second—what do you think Thomas will do when he finds out about me and Billy?” I wasn’t looking forward to sharing the news with Brother Bear.

Mark laughed, full and hearty—something even rarer than one of his smiles. “Howdy, that’s the best damn part of this whole situation. Thomas will be all over Billy’s ass instead of mine.”

Chapter 16

You can’t walk into a party with an orangutan on your hip and not be the center of attention. Every adaptor or adaptor adjunct there, from “Barack Obama” to “Lady Gaga,” crowded around to pay homage to Her Royal Orangeness, and Molly held court with aplomb beneath the whirling lights of the rented disco ball. It was the first time she’d been to one of these parties in something other than her own skin, and she was milking the experience for all it was worth.

Nobody even gave me, Clint Eastwood, a second glance, and I looked damn good. I mean, Clint in his
Every Which Way but Loose
days was
hot
. Not to mention the only easily recognized persona who could realistically show up with an orangutan. Lucky for me Mr. Eastwood was strong, because baby orangutans get heavy after you lug them around for a while.

Of course, I’d never had the good fortune to touch the 1970s version of the man, so my Clint was far from perfect. Mark had offered me the
Gran Torino
version he had in his repertoire of auras, but that wouldn’t have worked. So I made do with what adaptors refer to as cardboard—looks okay from a distance, but pretty fakey on close examination. Since most of the adaptors present were in the same boat with their chosen famous auras, it didn’t really matter.

Thomas, Brian, and Mark were going to take turns donning Molly’s ten-year-old-girl aura at various times throughout the party, so Mo wouldn’t freak about her missing daughter. I’d smuggled some of Molly’s clothes up to my old room earlier, when I’d checked in with Mom after my “arrival” in New York. The guys would sneak off, by turn, change auras and clothes, spend a little time as the energetic Molly, then go change back to whatever persona they had adopted for the party before they were missed. Tag-team. With a little luck the confusion of the party would be cover enough for our deception.

I was left out of the Being-Molly lineup since I was officially in charge of the real thing. She was looking wild-eyed and a bit too happy for my peace of mind. Also, did I mention she was heavy? Even with Clint’s added upper-body strength, if I didn’t find someplace to sit down soon my arms were going to break. I could only pray Molly took to heart the lecture about proper party behavior she’d received from all of us at the meeting the day before. It was still a little tough to tell if everything we said was getting through to her—the ape aura seemed to be enmeshing itself more deeply the longer it held on.

James was itching to get back to the lab, and planned to duck out of the party as soon as possible. This would not be out of character for him since he did it every year. No one really blamed him—the party was not as much fun for the nonadaptors in attendance. They got bumped out of the competition pretty quickly. No matter how creative their costumes were, their real identities were strikingly obvious.

This year James had chosen to come as that hot Aussie doctor from
House
—the early seasons version, when the actor still had longish blond hair. The resemblance was actually pretty amazing, only James was blonder and even better-looking. Bonus for him: the costume consisted of a white lab coat and a stethoscope, things James had readily at hand. He’d already checked Molly-O’s heart three times while hamming up his role. (We’d taken to referring to the real Molly as Molly-O, just to avoid confusion with the fake ones.)

Before the party, James had given her a dose of something he’d hoped would do the trick, but it was taking longer than anticipated to work, and he was a little worried about side effects, so he was keeping a close eye on her.

I also knew the chosen personas for Mark, Thomas, and Brian. We’d decided at the meeting it would be less confusing all around if we could look out for one another, and we couldn’t do that if we didn’t know who we all were. Mark was Julius Caesar. Easy to slip in and out of the toga for his quick changes. Thomas was Olympian swimmer Michael Phelps—ditto on the quick-change capability. Nothing but a Speedo and a lot of medals to deal with. And Brian was Madonna. He’d borrowed Suze’s outfit, which I suppose was his way of bringing her to the party. Practicality has never been Bri’s strong suit.

Nobody knew who Billy was, or if he was even there. He hadn’t been at the meeting, nor had anyone talked to him since he’d left me in Pretty Boy’s clutches at James’s apartment. Once the crowd around me thinned (even the novelty of a baby ape couldn’t keep them away from the bar for long) I did my damnedest to figure out which pseudo-celebrity he was. I gave up after a few fruitless minutes. If Billy didn’t want to be found out, he wouldn’t be.

I hadn’t gotten around to mentioning my new relationship status with Billy to Thomas. No need to fog up his mind with any new concerns until after we got Molly straightened out. He was ticked enough at Billy without throwing me into the mix. Fortunately, Mark hadn’t said anything, either. As frustrating as spook discretion could be, it did come in handy once in a while.

I was reaching for a stuffed mushroom from the tray of a passing member of the waitstaff when warm, dry lips connected with my neck from behind. I jumped, almost dropping Molly. As I righted myself, my eyes connected for the briefest instant with the server holding the tray before she moved quickly to the next group of partiers. She looked vaguely familiar—

“Wanna make my day, big boy?” a sultry voice whispered in my ear, distracting me. Meryl Streep, circa
The Bridges of Madison County
.

“Wrong movie, blondie,” I said, pretty sure it was Billy. Who else would kiss my neck?

“But the right sentiment.” Meryl tugged my hair, and tickled Molly under her chin. Yep, had to be Billy. “Why don’t you pass your date over to the good doctor and come upstairs—”