Lois Lane Tells All

  “Admit I’m the only man who has tasted your lip gloss in the last month—no, two months.”

  Was he jealous? The thought was tantalizing. Men talked to her, and laughed with her, and frequently asked her opinion on this or that woman they knew … but they never got jealous of her.

  She suddenly realized that Mark’s gaze was locked on her mouth. Though he stood casually, tension emanated from him.

  She shoved a hand into her pocket and cleared her throat. “This lip gloss question is rather complicated, since I’ve worn it since seventh grade.”

  “Vanilla?”

  “No. I just found that in the last year.”

  His gaze narrowed. “So how many men have benefited from your vanilla lip gloss?”

  Hmm. If she told the truth and admitted he was the only eligible male she’d kissed in anything but a platonic way, she was basically admitting that she was as near desperate as a single woman could get.

  On the other hand, if she lied and told him that she’d kissed several men, she would come across as a loose woman. She shrugged. Better a happy hooker than a desperate spinster. “Fine. Other than you, fifteen men have tasted my lip gloss, and they all liked it.”

  Mark’s eyes widened. “Fifteen?”

  Too many? “Well,” she temporized, a bit thrown off by his shocked expression, “twelve if you don’t count men over the age of my uncle Richmond.”

  “Twelve?”

  He didn’t look any less shocked, so she found herself adding in a rushed voice, “OK, OK! Four if you don’t count the ones too young to leave their mothers.”

  He burst into laughter, deep and rolling. Grinning, he asked, “So how young were these boys?”

  “Five and six. They were selling cookies and they each gave me a hug and a kiss on my cheek for each box of cookies I bought.” She gave a sheepish grin. “I bought a lot. They were peanut butter.”

  His expression softened into a smirk. “Oh. Those kinds of kisses.”

  “Anything else you want to know, Clark? Because if not, I have a story to chase down and you’re in the way.”

  “You haven’t finished your story here.”

  “What story?”

  “The one that explains the other four men who’ve tasted your lip gloss.”

  She tossed her head. “Right. Four.”

  He eyed her narrowly, his smile slowly growing. “Know how I can tell when you’re lying?”

  “How?”

  He chuckled. “You lift your chin like this.” He angled his chin at an impossible level.

  “I do not! I had my chin perfectly level and—” She clamped her mouth closed when she realized her chin was angled exactly the way he’d suggested.

  He laughed. “See?”

  She tried, but she just couldn’t be mad at a man whose eyes crinkled when he was teasing, and her answering smile slipped out before she could stop it. They stood there grinning like loons, nothing between them but air warm with humor and approval.

  Susan found herself looking at his mouth, which curved so appealingly. He had a beautiful, masculine mouth—firm yet sensual. She’d been mentally rekissing him ever since she’d kissed him in the shrubs. The problem was, if she started kissing him, would she ever want to stop? Or, worse, if she started kissing him, would he stop it?

  Normally he seemed cool, calm, collected, and far too in control, but she was learning that one touch, one look, and she could ignite his flame. Yet it wasn’t enough just to set him afire. She wanted something more … tangible. She just didn’t know what.

  Was this how Lois Lane had felt? Befuddled and yearning at the same time? She wanted him to kiss her and touch her and … well, all of it. But she also feared that closeness and hated to think of how it would end. For it would. In Susan’s experience, all relationships, with the exception of pure friendship, had a finite end. It was just a question of when.

  She snuck a glance at him from under her lashes and wished she hadn’t. He was smiling, clearly amused by her.

  She tilted her head to one side. “So, Treymayne, if I bring back some unbearably cute puppy pictures, will you use them on the front page?”

  “If you think it’ll sell papers, yes.” He quirked a brow. “But I’d like something in return.”

  He looked so serious all of the sudden, and he’d never looked more like Clark Kent. Darn it, I like this guy.

  She blinked, her smile fading. Where in the hell did that come from? I don’t want to like him. It’s one thing to be attracted to a guy; that can be contained. But liking him is a whole other road, one I don’t want to get stranded on.

  A man like Mark would never be happy in Glory. He’d been up front that the second the paper was in the black, he’d be hitting the road, and she didn’t blame him one bit.

  Though she loved the town, she knew its limitations. There was no movie theater, only one decent restaurant, and, worst of all, everyone knew everyone else’s business.

  At one time, she’d never thought she’d be happy here, herself. Circumstances—and concern for her father—had kept her here as surely as if her feet had been cemented to the ground. At first she’d been frustrated, but as time went on, she’d made her way, found good friends, and seen a little of the world around her. Not much, but enough to know that happiness wasn’t a place but a decision one made about one’s circumstances in life.

  She supposed she could have been bitter like a few of the town’s residents. But she wasn’t a bitter sort of person. She’d worked instead on fashioning a place for herself. Now she loved living in Glory and couldn’t imagine being comfortable anywhere else. This was home.

  “Susan, I’ll tell you what …”

  She jerked her gaze to his, noting that his blue eyes were shimmering with laughter.

  “I’ll trade you: the puppy picture on the front page for a favor.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Sell an ad.” She stiffened, and he added quickly, “Just one.”

  “I thought we’d agreed to try my way for two months. It’s only been two weeks.”

  “This isn’t about that. I’m curious as to how difficult it’ll be to sell ads here. In Raleigh there’s a lot of competition—three newspapers, a trade magazine, entertainment rags, the Internet, billboards, you name it. Here there’s just the Examiner. Besides, I’ve been taking the time to learn your side of the business. It wouldn’t hurt for you to experience mine.”

  She leaned on the hood of her Jeep as she considered this. “If I sell one ad—and I’m not saying I will—will you promise to not make snarky comments when I put a puppy picture on the front page?”

  “Not even one?”

  “Not one.”

  He nodded. “Done. But you have to do it within the next day.”

  She nodded and looked around at her options. Across the street, Mayor Harkins was standing on the sidewalk in front of City Hall, arguing with Robin, as usual. Also as usual, Robin’s leather skirt was too short and her shirt too tight over her fake breasts. She looked madder than a hornet, which was nothing new, either. She was dating that loser, Mayor Harkins, so how else could she look?

  Beyond them old Pastor MacMillan was approaching, no doubt to offer his sage advice. He was the closest thing Glory had to a marriage counselor. Susan eyed him for a moment, wondering if she should ask him for an ad. But she knew it would be a wasted effort.

  She glanced at Mark. “If you want to see something funny, watch what happens if I walk toward the pastor.”

  “He runs?”

  “Like a rabbit chased by a fox.” She gazed around at the nearly empty town square. “Who to choose?” She caught sight of Jeff Brockaw climbing out of the low-slung Jag that he’d just parked at Glory National Bank.

  Aha! She waved her arm and yelled, “Yo, Jeff!”

  Jeff turned, a satchel in his hand, probably deposits from the airport. “Hi, Susan!” he called back, a dimple appearing in one cheek.

  Jeff was startlingly good-looking with
his chestnut hair and golden eyes, but he didn’t affect her the way Mark did, which was a pity. She sometimes had the impression that, if she hinted she would like it, Jeff was willing to take the relationship to a new level. Unfortunately, all she felt for him was friendship. Why can’t we pick and choose when that happens? Life is just not fair.

  “Is that the supposed bestseller guy?” Mark asked, his back as stiff as his tone of voice.

  “Yup.”

  “He’s taller than I thought.”

  There was no disguising the disappointment in Mark’s voice. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Nothing,” Mark said.

  Bewildered, Susan turned back to Jeff and cupped a hand over her mouth so she could yell back across the town square. “Jeff, are you still doing that fly-in at the airport next month?”

  He nodded. “Why?”

  “Want an ad in the paper?”

  He didn’t hesitate, God bless him. “Sure! Couldn’t hurt.”

  “Same info as on the flyer?”

  “That’ll work.”

  “Great! Half a page?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll send you a proof by e-mail.”

  He waved and went on into the bank.

  Mark shook his head. “You kill me. I’ve called twenty businesses in the last two weeks and not one bought an ad. Ray’s sold eight and you corraled a half-pager without trying.”

  “Probably because you tried too hard to sell them.”

  “I did not!” He raked a hand through his hair, mussing it adorably as he reluctantly moved away from her Jeep. “Guess there’ll be a puppy picture on the front page.”

  “Which you’ll love.”

  He laughed. “I didn’t promise that, but I won’t mock it.”

  “Good.” She turned and unlocked her door. “Better go. The mayor seems determined to cut the city’s budget to the bone, even if it means getting rid of some necessary services like the animal shelter.”

  “From the short time I’ve been in this town, I’ve noticed that the mayor is a bonehead.”

  She chuckled and tossed her purse into the passenger seat. “Harkins got elected for one reason, and one reason only.”

  “Blackmail?”

  “It’s even more pathetic than that. Every year he runs unchallenged, and every year he wins.” Susan glanced back at old Pastor MacMillan, who was now talking in an animated way to the mayor and his girlfriend, who both looked glum.

  Mark’s gaze followed hers. “Maybe we could use the paper to roust up some interest in running for office. It might make a good exposé if— Uh-oh.”

  Susan turned back to Mark but his gaze was over her head, focused on the other side of the parking lot. “That’s Dot Weaver,” he said, indicating a woman who was bustling toward them, an anxious expression on her round face, her fakely-black hair almost plastered into a bob. “She’s one of Mother’s friends and the biggest gossip you’ve ever met.” He sent Susan a glance. “You might want to escape before she gets here.”

  “You don’t need to tell me twice.” Susan hopped into her Jeep, started it up, and rolled down the window. “Bye, Mark! See you later.”

  He waved her on. “Go ahead, visit your cute puppies. Don’t even think about me, here, wasting away as she talks and talks and talks and—”

  “If you hurry, you might make it to your office before she even reaches the elevator. I bet if you give Ray a fiver, he’ll tell her that you’re in a meeting.”

  He was already turning away, digging for his wallet as he went. “I know I have five bucks somewhere.”

  But Dot Weaver was no fool. She hiked her dress to her knees and scurried after him, jiggling the entire way. She reached the door at almost the same time he did.

  Susan giggled when Dot grabbed Mark by the arm and caused him to let go of the door. The woman immediately began talking as fast as her lips would allow.

  Susan grinned as Mark sent her a comical you-see-what-I’m-dealing-with-here look before he disappeared into the building, reluctantly following Dot.

  Susan headed for the animal shelter. It was out of town, along the road that led to the Pine Hills Assisted Living Center, and she drove the route with the ease of familiarity, the air whipping her hair from its band.

  It was odd, but she couldn’t shake the thought that behind his glib words, Mark had been a little down. Not that it should matter. Honestly, she couldn’t be expected to check his emotional temperature. He had friends … Or did he?

  She frowned as she turned down a long country road lined by slat fences on one side and shaded by large oaks. She hadn’t seen Mark out with anyone—male or female—since he’d arrived. Maybe he was still licking his wounds over his divorce. She didn’t know much about it except that Arlene had been a wild child looking for someone to support her “fun” habits, according to Mark’s sister. Roxie’s theory was that once the novelty of being married wore off, Arlene had started jonesing for excitement.

  In contrast, Susan knew how to savor, and even relish, simple things. Things like puppies. Not that she wanted one herself, of course, but she could appreciate the draw.

  “‘Don’t bring one home,’” she mimicked Mark. Ha! If he knew Dad’s opinion on animals in the house, he’d never say that.

  But of course, Mark didn’t know her dad; very few people outside of his aging drinking circle really did. Over the years, Dad had isolated himself, and unless Mark became a patron of the Bigger Jigger, or was the son of one of Dad’s old high school buds who frequently provided rides when the whole crew was too toasted to drive, it was highly unlikely they’d ever meet.

  That suited Susan just fine. She didn’t want to explain her dad or his problems to Mark. People always assumed that all her dad had to do was decide to quit drinking, and that would be that. They didn’t understand that it would take more than a mere decision. He’d have to admit his problem and then seek medical help, and he wasn’t willing to do either.

  Heart heavy, she sighed. I’m getting maudlin. I need a puppy hug worse than I thought.

  Good thing she was on her way to get a fix. With a sigh, she turned into the animal shelter drive and parked the Jeep.

  Chapter 13

  “I can’t believe this.” Susan turned her car down the tree-lined road that led to her house. “I’m a sensible woman and I never make decisions based on emotions. I know the cost of that better than most.” She pulled into the driveway and parked, then turned to look at the puppy sleeping on the front seat of the Jeep.

  “That can’t be comfortable, Krypton,” she said, trying his name on for size. The shelter’s staff, obviously strained beyond their limits, had dubbed him Frank, which was ridiculous for such a stately puppy.

  Well, he wasn’t always stately. Right now he was on his back, paws in the air, sound asleep. His tail and ears hung over both sides of the seat, his soft pink belly and privates exposed for the world to see.

  “Must you show the naughty bits?”

  He opened one eye and looked at her from upside down, gravity making it appear as if he was grinning.

  “You have no modesty. Not even a little.”

  His tongue lolled out, along with a strand of drool.

  “Lovely. I throw my principles to the wind, pay to bust you out of the brig, risk being mocked by Mark Treymayne, and this is what I get.”

  The puppy stirred, blinking sleepily as he slowly rolled onto his stomach. He yawned so widely that she giggled.

  “You’ll break something if you don’t stop that.” She rubbed his ears and he grunted, snuffling at her hand. “You’re just too cute.”

  Susan undid her seat belt and threw open the door. “Ready to see your new home? It’s a nice place and I’d like to keep it that way, so expect some rules.” She found his lead and hooked it to his collar. “Time to meet the fam.” She dreaded Dad’s reaction. He didn’t like most changes, and this was a big one.

  Susan collected the bag of toys she’d bought at Mitzi?
??s Pants and Purrs pet store and stood back from the door. Krypton hopped from the seat to the drive and, after a few tugs, started up the walkway. She let him sniff the flowers and the border, and even lick the stone frog that she’d put by the periwinkles.

  “What the hell is that?”

  She looked over her shoulder at Ethan, who had walked up to the fence and was eyeing Krypton with wonder.

  Susan walked/pulled Krypton over. “This is my new puppy.”

  “That’s not a puppy. That’s a colt. Or maybe a small donkey.”

  “It’s a St. Bernard. He’s only twelve weeks old.”

  Ethan’s brows rose. “What on earth possessed you to get a St. Bernard?”

  “He sort of chose me.”

  Laughter shone in Ethan’s eyes. “Someone suckered you into it, didn’t they?”

  “No!” She hugged the bag of toys tighter. “I know exactly what I’m getting into. I-I wanted a dog for company.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Wait and see.” She turned to go to her house but stopped short when the lead wouldn’t go any farther. Acutely aware of Ethan’s eyes on her, she tugged on the lead, but nothing happened. She wound her hands in it and yanked, but it felt as if it was tied to a tree.

  Frustrated, she looked back and saw Krypton sitting in the middle of the drive, looking like a fat bear, his legs splayed with his puppy belly seeming to hold him upright.

  Ethan burst out laughing. “That’s some dog!”

  “He’s a rock.”

  Krypton’s tail wagged and he stood, sauntered to her Jeep, and relieved himself on the back tire.

  Ethan whistled. “That’s about a gallon. When he gets serious, you’re going to need a shovel.”

  “And a wheelbarrow.” She sighed. “Do you know anything about St. Bernards?”

  “Only that they get huge, eat a lot, and drool. Oh, and in the movies, they’ll bring you a flask of brandy when you’re lost in the mountains.” He eyed the dog with interest. “Think you could train him to bring flasks? That’d add some spice to poker nights.”

  “I am not going to train my beautiful puppy to carry a flask,” Susan said stiffly. “I just hope I can convince him to make his mountains out here and not in the house.”