He let go of her. “See you later, Dr. Rush. Enjoy your date.”
He strolled off, fighting a hard-on and thrumming with anticipation. There were a lot of things in life he wasn’t sure of. But he’d seen how Lane had looked at Marin. He recognized it because Donovan looked at her the same way. And Lane was smart enough not to let her slip by without at least trying.
So when his phone buzzed half an hour later with a text message, he could only smile.
He lifted his phone, laughing at Marin’s colorful use of language and angry emoticons, and saved the address she’d sent him.
Game on.
* * *
Marin had no idea what she was doing—just that she was doing it. Like Donovan had predicted, Lane had invited her to go with him tonight and see a band at one of the many jazz clubs in New Orleans. She’d made the bet with Donovan. She was supposed to say yes even though she had no intentions of dating Lane.
But she didn’t want to lead a guy on. And she didn’t want to renege on a bet. So in the end, she’d told Lane that she’d love to go but that they’d be going as friends, that she wasn’t ready to date anyone right now. Lane had taken it in stride with his easy charm and laid-back attitude. The guy really did have a talent for making people feel comfortable. She could see how vital that would be in his profession.
But when she peeked through the curtains and saw that he’d pulled up in front of her place in a sleek black sports car, a little flurry of nerves surged. Nate, who’d gotten inexplicably pissy when she’d told him she was going out again, slid into the spot she vacated, openly staring at her visitor. “So this is the dude you went on a date with last night?”
“No.”
He looked her way. “No? When the hell did you have time to meet two guys to hook up with?”
“I’m a grown woman. I do not hook up.”
“Okay, Kelly Clarkson. Whatever you want to call it. But you looked rough this morning.”
She made an affronted sound.
“Just speaking the truth, Mar.”
Marin frowned. She’d made sure to be back here before Nate had gotten home from his shift, but the kid was too observant for his own good. “I had trouble sleeping.”
“Uh-huh.” He peered back out the window. “Hard to sleep when you’re too busy hooking up.”
She groaned. “What’s your problem? You were the one wanting me to get my own life.”
“I don’t have a problem,” he said, petulant tone back.
She swatted his shoulder as she toed on her heels. “Stop looking out the window. He’s going to see you. And for the record, I’m not going on a date with this guy. It’s a friend thing.”
“A friend thing that you dressed up for,” Nate said without looking her way or moving away from the window. “Whoa.”
She searched for her keys in the pile of stuff on the coffee table. “What?”
“He’s like seriously hot. Now I get why you’re dressed like that.”
Marin rolled her eyes. “You’ve just got a thing for blonds.”
“And broad shoulders and messy hair and, damn, that guy works out. Is he bi?”
“I have no idea. Plus, you have a boyfriend, and Lane is way too old for you, so back off.”
“Yeah, my boyfriend.” Nate sank back down on the couch, ending his leering routine at the window, but his moody expression unchanged.
Marin sighed. Nate was eighteen but still a teenager in so many ways. The moods were impossible to predict or dissect. It was probably best she was going out tonight. She and Nate would just end up snapping at each other more if he was determined to be like this.
When the doorbell rang, he hopped up. “I’ll get it.”
“Nathan.”