Free Permanent Marker by Angel Payne

blend the strand into the rest. “I think your word was ‘wonderful.’” Her throat tightened from his touch, a sight he watched in fascination. She was all over the place in her message now, and he savored the little victory.
    “I also think red velvet ice cream is wonderful. That doesn’t mean it’s good for me.”
    With more calculated intent, he pulled back. She blinked, taken aback, further fulfilling his objective. “Suit yourself,” he drawled. “I look forward to this afternoon’s session, then.”
    She jerked her chin up, again a mesmerizing sight. “Maybe I’ll just be sick this afternoon.”
    “And tomorrow morning too? And every day for the next six days?”
    He could practically hear her teeth grinding through the next thirty seconds.
    “Why are you being so—”
    She snorted herself into silence. Mark’s teeth locked with the effort of hiding his smile. Her torment, battling her honor of him as a teacher against her desire for him as a man, was a bittersweet and beguiling sight.
    “Why am I being so what?” He pulled off his suit jacket, tossed it on the bar, and then did the same with his tie. “I’m not Senator Moore right now. I’m not your trainer or your superior. So what am I, Rose?”
    The curves of her face ignited with eager fire. “Obstinate,” she declared. “You’re being an obstinate, importunate, relentless—”
    “Extemporizing.” He finally gave in to a grin. “Don’t forget that.”
    “Ass!” she countered. “Yes. An ass. A man has one of the most brilliant and stimulating minds I’ve ever encountered, which can’t seem to think its way past the fact that this”—she toggled a finger between both of them—“does not make sense! At all.”
    It was surprisingly easy to keep the grin going. “Thank you for your honesty. Now you’re forbidden from saying that again until after dinner.”
    “Forbidden? Huh; really? Says you and what? Your jump ropes again? Unless you conveniently packed your floggers for a just-in-case scenario?”
    He let the smile fade. Then took a step toward her. Just one. “You really want to push me on this, pet?”
    “‘Pet.’” She muttered it like referring to dog crap. “We’re going to talk about that at dinner too.”
    “Perhaps we will.”
    His quiet, satisfied tone coincided with Rose’s heavy sigh. She just realized what she’d agreed to.
    “Fine,” she spat. “Where? What time?”
    “I’ll come for you. Eight o’clock.” He couldn’t help brushing her cheek one more time with his knuckles. “Thank you, sweet Rose.”
    “You’re welcome, extemporizing ass.”

Chapter Eight
    The knock on her room door came at the stroke of eight. Rose expected he’d be on time, but she jumped anyway, trying to swallow back the nerves stampeding from her stomach to her throat. “It’s only dinner,” she muttered. “You’re only talking. He said that. You’re only going to talk. And you’re going to do just that. You’re going to set him straight about why none of this makes sense, no matter how much his thunder sets off your lightning. You’re going to tell him you’re off-limits, and there’s going to be no more tying up, pinning down, or senses theft again.”
    Which is why, of course, she’d thought of nothing else all afternoon.
    “Get over it,” she muttered at herself. “Don’t beat yourself up. Just focus on what you need to say to him now.”
    She dropped her head in a sharp nod, forcing her thoughts to realign as she smoothed her skirt and checked herself in the mirror. For the fifteenth time, she questioned her wisdom in choosing the outfit. It’d been a last-minute toss into her suitcase, as she was sure she’d never need something like the white wraparound skirt and matching one-shouldered blouse. The ensemble still felt utterly too revealing for this occasion, but her other choices were casual business-suit sets, work-out clothes, pool sarongs, and a couple of bathing suits. And considering