Page 38 of If You Dare

The mask. Raccoons. Clearly, Marcus had arrived early to do damage control. While she was grateful he hadn’t told Clive and Joanie about the naked part of Friday night, she wasn’t happy about him keeping a ticket for himself for the trip in the process. He’d set her up after all.

The asshat.

“Joanie!” Clive called out as he came around the corner. “Oh, hey, Lil. Nicely done on snagging half the trip.”

“Hello, Clive,” she said flatly.

“Baxter is on line three,” he told Joanie. “I have a conference call with Ed in two minutes. Can you take Baxter off my hands?”

“Got it, babe,” Joanie said as Clive broke into a run down the hall. “Maxine Baxter is opening a new consignment shop. Wish me luck?”

Lily flashed a smile. “Luck.”

Once Joanie walked away, Lily stood in her office, blinking at the wall calendar. What had just happened? And was that the entirety of what Marcus had told Clive…or had there been more?

Marcus’s office was across the hall and down from hers. He was out of his chair, hovering over the drafting table, which usually meant he was in the zone. She’d seen him like that before. When an idea sank its claws into him, he couldn’t stay in his seat and often tuned out the world around him.

She slapped the wall with the flat of her hand. “Hi there!”

He jerked to attention, spinning to face her. His gaze was hazy like he’d been lost in thought.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she lied. “I wanted to return your cup.” She placed the tumbler on his desk. His office was huge, with a desk on one side, a drafting table on the other, and a flat file cabinet with shallow drawers for holding drawings and current projects. She added in a whisper, “Didn’t think it would be a good idea to bring your pants into the office. They’re in my car.”

“Right. Thanks.” His expression was unreadable. “Uh, come in.”

He swiped bits of eraser from the paper in front of him. “What do you think?”

“Main Street Salon,” she read. A complete redesign. And it was perfection. Rather than an open floor plan, the design gave each sink and chair its own partition—like a private room. “I like it.”

“I’m going to add a closet here so that customers can hang their coats and purses. You know, so they don’t lose their keys.”

That smile. She bit down on her lip, trying not to feel anything other than ire. Instead she felt the phantom stubble graze her neck and the smooth slick of his tongue on her nipples. She recalled the way his husky voice had sounded in the dark.

Say my name.

She cleared her throat. With Joanie and Clive tied up on calls, this was her chance. “What did you tell Clive?”

He shrugged his shoulders as he leaned on the drafting table. “Not everything. I didn’t tell him that we…” His eyes flicked to the doorway then back to her. “You know.”

“Good.”

His eyebrows drew together.

She ignored his frown. “What about the voices? The one you planned and the one you didn’t. Did you tell him about those?”

“No.” He turned back to his project. “It’s not like anyone would believe us if we told them the truth.”

The truth. About the voices, the footsteps… The other thing. The them thing. He was right. They wouldn’t believe it.

“Raccoons was the easiest explanation. And that’s not a lie. I saw one outside.”

“Joanie knew about the mask.”

“Clive’s a traitor,” he said in his best Alan Cumming accent. When she didn’t smile, he said, “Sorry. Again.”

“Well. It’s over now.”

His eyes darkened. “We’ll see.”