Mark hung around the pizza place with Beau, Anthony, and Leticia. The late afternoon sun bathed the place in a rosy glow. The staff lowered the blinds, giving the guys some privacy since there were two hundred plus fans outside. The security detail had the perimeter under control and the chef cranked out pizzas for the remaining staff. They trickled out, giving the impression the event was winding down.

Beau had sent out a tweet thanking George and Allie for the great afternoon, including a pic of all of them at the table. He’d also mentioned heading home to play some pool with the guys. If they waited for a half hour, most of the people outside would assume they’d snuck out the back and they could leave in relative peace.

Beau rolled up the sleeves of his button-up shirt. “I’m glad that’s over with—the cop was a card, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Anthony shook his head.

“I liked Allie, though.” Leticia rubbed her belly affectionately—like the baby could feel her. What did he know? Maybe the baby could sense a mother’s love. She’d been doing that all afternoon, and Anthony had a dopey smile on his face each and every time he caught her at it. Being around the two of them when they acted all in love and crap was difficult.

However, after spending those few minutes listening to Allie sing, he could kind of understand where the two of them were coming from. Which was weird, right?

“Hey.” Beau lifted his glass and took a sip. “Kate should have dropped George off at that scuzzy hotel. I’ll bet he flipped out when he realized he wasn’t staying at the Ritz.”

“Probably—she said he’d bucked at every rule she put up,” added Anthony.

“Call her and find out how the drop-off went.” Beau kicked his feet up on the chair across from him.

Mark had been fighting the urge to find out if Allie was all settled and this was as good of an excuse as any. The phone rang once before Kate picked up.

“Hey, Kate—how’d it go?” Better to start with generalities than jump right in to finding out if Allie had enough bubble bath. Beau nudged him, and he put the call on speaker phone.

“Better than expected. They’re all settled for the night.”

“What room at the Ritz?” asked Leticia. “I’d like to send over some of my bath salts.” Leticia had a small company that made herbal body lotions and soaps. Mark had given a large basket to his mom for Christmas. She raved over them, so he’d sent another—just to spoil her.

“Hang on.”

They waited while Kate checked whatever device she’d noted the information on. “216,” she finally replied.

“Thank you,” called Leticia.

216. 216. 216.

Mark took the call off speaker. The conversation hadn’t told him about Allie’s well-being—or if she liked the room. She probably loved the complementary bathrobes and fruit baskets. Maybe she’d thrown herself across the bed, her arms spread wide. He wasn’t about to ask for particulars with Beau and Anthony on the call, though. He’d never hear the end of it from them.

The conversation did, however, give him one giant opportunity—he had her room number. What he was going to do with it was a whole other question. “Today went great. Take the weekend off, will you?” he told Kate.

“I’ll see you Monday.” Kate’s voice held a smile.

They hung up and Mark turned to Leticia, a stroke of genius smacking him upside the head. “I can deliver those bath salts for you.”

Leticia pointed over her shoulder. “I’ve got some in my trunk. You don’t mind?”

“Not at all, the hotel is on the way home. I’ll just hand them to the footman and be off. It’ll take three minutes—tops.”

“That would be great. I’m ready for a nap.”

“Just a nap?” Anthony kissed her hair.

Leticia’s movements were laced with sleepiness. “Yes, just a nap … a twelve-hour nap.”

It was only six-thirty, but Mark remembered Jasmine getting tired early too and was doubly glad he’d offered to deliver the gift. They made quick work of getting the items from Anthony’s car and into his. Most of the fans had indeed dispersed after Beau’s tweet that they were leaving, and those that remained were entertained by the man himself. Beau never seemed to tire of being in the limelight, and Mark was more than happy to hand the screaming fans over to him after he promised to call a cab.

The drive to the hotel wasn’t long, and yet the sun had set and the city lights came alive before he handed his keys to the valet. Mark debated going through with his little plan to … to what? To check on Allie? Kate would have made sure she was fine.

He held the basket of bath stuff, all wrapped in cellophane and tissue paper, up by his chest to hide his face as he crossed the hotel lobby. Dimly lit crystal chandeliers blushed the room with a golden glow. The sound of his steps on the marble floor was muted by the wood walls painted black. The golden elevator door opened and a pair of teens stepped out, too absorbed in their phones to pay any attention to him.

What he really wanted was to see Allie again—to talk. Just talk more. The desire was strong enough to propel him into the elevator to do something stupid.

The easy-going way she’d brushed off getting his autograph could have been an act, but Mark didn’t think so. And after the way George had behaved, Mark was pretty sure he was the one who had asked for an extra room.

That left Mark with a problem.

He’d met a woman who hadn’t asked for a part of him and he wasn’t quite sure what to do about her. He stared at the buttons as the elevator took him to the second floor. He could still hear her clear voice and see the joy light up her face as she talked about those kids. He wished his church had a children’s choir. Chloe could sing and she’d love to participate. Performing in a group would be a good way for her to get used to being in front of people too.

That was his ticket—he’d ask Allie about her church, and he and Chloe could visit this Sunday. With a clear plan of action, Mark squared his shoulders and waited for the doors to open.

* * *

Room 216 was easy enough to find. There was loud music pouring from underneath and around the door, spewing into the hallway. Mark raised his eyebrows as he knocked on the door.

A woman in a white bathrobe opened the door and gave him the once-over. She recognized him immediately. “You’re Mark Dubois. Honey—come see this. It’s Mark!”

She used his first name as if they were friends. George popped his head into the hallway. “Mark! My man. Come on in.” George adopted a sense of familiarity that caused the hair on the back of Mark’s neck to stand on end.

“I can’t. I was just delivering this to Allie—is she around?” He couldn’t imagine her hanging out with these two, but stranger things had happened. She was so nice, maybe she’d asked them to stay for a while before going to their hotel.

“Naw, they carted her off to some other hotel. Me and my lady are living it up tonight—aren’t we babe?”

“We sure are.” She ran her hand down her chest, opening her robe a few more inches in the process. Mark quickly averted his eyes.

Wait—If George was here, that meant that Allie was at a dive hotel. “You guys can have this, then. Have a great night.” Mark shoved the bag of bath stuff at George and took off down the hallway. The elevator didn’t open right away, so he hit the stairwell, pulling his phone out of his back pocket as he ran.

Kate picked up on the third ring. “What did you do?” he demanded.

“What?” Kate sounded like she might have been asleep. He wouldn’t blame her for going to bed, especially since she’d had to deal with George for most of the day.

“Allie was supposed to be at the Ritz, not that sleazeball cop.”

“Technically he was the one who held the winning ticket, and I didn’t think kicking him out would be a good idea,” defended Kate. “He could have sued or demanded a redo of the entire day or who knows what gumbo he would have cooked up.”

Mark handed his ticket to the valet. “Any gentleman would have given the lady the better room.”

“Well, obviously he’s not a gentleman.”

Mark cursed. “I’ve got to fix this.”

“What can I do to help?” Kate was firing on all cylinders now.

“See if you can get her a room here, on a different floor. I’m going to get her.”

“I’m sending directions to her hotel to your phone. I’ll call you right back about the room.”

They hung up just as his car was delivered to the curb. He tipped the silver-haired man and slid behind the wheel. His phone beeped and he set the GPS.

A half hour later he pulled into the cracked and weathered parking lot of the One Night Only Motel. An airport shuttle bus was parked just to the left of the front door and three rough-looking characters hung out on the bench, smoking and grumbling about the short stick life had given them. Allie’s room was just to the left. The lights on low. Good, at least she was still awake.

The men eyed Mark’s car, one of them letting out a low whistle. “How ’bout a ride?”

“Sorry, fellas, I’m on a mission.”

If his skin crawled when he walked passed these guys, how had Allie felt? He was such an idiot for sending her here. He knocked quickly and took a step back, his senses on high alert and his martial arts training sparking to life.

The curtain parted letting a sliver of light escape. “Allie? It’s me, Mark,” he said to the crack, sounding stupid and desperate. He owned both emotions because he’d been stupid to let her stay here and not check deeper into the arrangements. And he was desperate to get this little ray of sunshine out of the darkness.

A chain rattled, a deadbolt slid to the side, and the lock on the handle popped before the door cracked open. Allie blocked the entrance with her body, her hand clutching her ratted robe closed over her chest. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to get you.” He barged into the room and shut the door behind them, throwing the deadbolt as a precaution. Better to avoid a fight than allow one to come through the door.

“You can’t just come into my—wait, get me? What do you mean get me?” She took a step back.

Mark scanned the place. A maroon, navy, and green striped blanket covered the bed and two flat pillows. Several dark stains dotted the carpet, some of them bigger than his hand, and the picture on the wall tilted. Her suitcase was on a small stand near the bathroom. He slapped shut the lid and zipped it closed. He’d replace whatever they left behind. “You should be at the Ritz. This was a mistake.” He pounded the side of his fist against the wall. “A huge, stupid mistake. Come on, my car’s outside.”

Allie planted her feet. “I’m not staying with George. I’d be afraid to sleep with him in the room.”

Mark ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “That’s not what I mean. Kate is getting you a reservation of your own. A room all to yourself.”

“But that’s a lot of money, and shouldn’t it go to helping Teens on Target or your Waters without Borders group?”

Warmth filling his chest at her mention of Waters without Borders. Had she looked him up or did she just know that he’d founded the charity? His phone rang and he answered quickly. Perhaps Kate could convince Allie to leave this hole. “Kate? I need some good news.”

“Well, it’s not coming from me. The Ritz is booked. Every hotel in the area is booked. There’s a convention this weekend.”

Mark bit back a curse. He’d just have to take Allie home with him. The arrangement wasn’t ideal, but he had plenty of extra rooms. He tried not to get excited about having someone else—no, having Allie—in his home. Her cheerfulness would be a welcome addition … for the night. A welcome addition for the night. “Thanks for trying. Night.”

He shoved his phone in his pocket. “Looks like you’re coming home with me.”

Allie’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me? Do I know you?”

Mark gritted his teeth. Dagnammit, she was right. He just felt like he knew her because there had been that connection, that sense of worlds colliding. But having a single woman spend the night in his home was not a good idea. His one defense when going back to custody court was that his life was stable—more stable than his ex’s, despite his travel schedule. “What about Anthony’s place? His wife will be there.”

“The woman at the lunch who’s expecting a baby?”

Hope sparked. If she felt comfortable around Leticia, this might just work. “Leticia—yeah.”

She twisted the belt to her robe in her hands. “I guess that would be okay.”

Mark closed most of the distance between them. “I’m so sorry about this.” He waved his hand around, indicating the water marks seeping down the wall and the strange stain on the curtains. Green? What stained green?

Allie lifted her palms. “I’m kind of used to life not turning out—I’ve got horrible luck. But thank you so much for worrying about me. This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done.”

Mark chuckled. “Surely not.”

She nodded. “It’s true.”

Mark reached out and touched her hand, warmth and electricity firing away. He liked Allie—furthermore, he respected her for smiling through a bad situation. Jasmine would have thrown a fit and dressed him down like a drill sergeant with a hangover. Actually, she probably would’ve had a horrific hangover and taken it out on him.

He took just a moment to search her eyes, looking for that element of falsity that would betray her optimism as an act. Every actress he’d ever played across from had a part of them locked away. He did it too. Locking away emotions was the key to taking a passionate moment, like an on-screen kiss with a beautiful woman, and manipulate the action into what the director wanted. Allie’s eyes were like plantation doors thrown open—he could see right into her heart.

His chest tightened. She had to learn to close those doors or she was going to get hurt. He couldn’t do much about that now, but he could get her to a safe location and protect her in the process. “Time to go.”

He checked through the curtains to make sure the three men were where he’d left them. They were, so he grabbed her hand and threw open the door.

“I’m in my slippers,” Allie protested.

“I’ll buy you new ones.” He dragged her across the parking lot and deposited her in his car.

“But—”

Mark shut the door on her protest. He nodded to the guys watching the exchange with too much interest and climbed behind the wheel. Feeling as though he’d broken the crown jewels out of the safe, he fired up the engine, floored the gas pedal, and raced away.

“I promise I’m going to make this right for you. Anthony’s place is like a castle—I think it actually has a turret—is that what those round things on the corners are called?” He kept his hands gripping the wheel as if he were in a high-speed chase. He glanced over to catch Allie rubbing her lips together.

“They sure are.” She sighed.

“I’m so sorry. Again—had I known you’d end up in that—”

Allie placed her petite hand on his arm. “Stop apologizing. It’s fine. I’m fine. We’re all fine here.”

“Then why the sigh?”

She removed her hand and turned towards the window so he couldn’t see her face clearly. He didn’t like the distance she’d placed between them. Didn’t like it at all.

“I’m going to wake up tomorrow and this is all going to be a dream.” Her fingers graced the door handle as if memorizing the feel of the leather lacing.

“More like a nightmare,” Mark quipped. And thinking of this innocent, darling woman stranded in that crap hole was a nightmare.

Allie chuckled. “Maybe for you. But I don’t usually eat lunch with movie stars and spend the night at a baseball player’s house. I don’t ride in cars with seat warmers or cameras or chrome. And I—” She bit her lip and looked down at her hands. “I don’t have someone caring about where I am. This whole day and night has been wonderful, thank you.”

The guilt that had driven Mark for the last hour grew twelve sizes. He’d placed her in physical danger and she thanked him. He stopped at a light and considered Allie. “You’re really not angry?”

“Angry? Today will be impossible to top.”

This woman deserved so much better than what she’d been handed in life. “Oh, I’ll top it.” His hand found hers and he gently squeezed. Once he’d gotten a hold of her, he wasn’t sure if he could let go. Her skin was silky against his, sending slow, loopy waves of wanting through his lower belly.

Allie squeezed back before pulling away and folding her hands in her lap.

Mark shook off the desire and stared at the road. The light changed and they were soon winding their way through the high-end, gated community to Anthony’s front door.