Ultimate Warriors (28 page)

     
Shit.
Clark grabbed his laptop and jogged up the aisle. He hadn’t counted on Bruce
getting physical.

     
"Blossom,
I--" Bruce started.

     
Clark
staggered to a stop at the table and whipped out his cell phone. "You
better do what she says," he puffed. "Or I’m calling the cops."

     
"Clark--"
Blossom said.

     
"You,"
Bruce said, sending Clark a look that could vaporize. "I should have
known. Go to hell. She’s mine."

     
"See
what I have to put up with?" Diana complained to the gathering crowd.

     
"What
an asshole." The purple haired lady climbed onto her seat, straining for a
better view. "Honey," she said to Blossom. "Get out while the
getting’s good. Guys like him are no damn picnic. They boink you once and think
they own you."

     
"No,"
Bruce said, re-anchoring his grip on Blossom’s wrist. "It’s not like that.
I can explain."

     
"Let
... me ... go," repeated Blossom, landing three more backpack blows to
Bruce’s arm.

     
Clark
grabbed hold of Bruce’s arm and pulled, using his laptop for leverage. He
didn’t move the hard muscles an inch. "You heard her," he said.
"Let go."

     
"Not
until she listens to me." He winced as Blossom’s backpack whacked him
upside the head. "What have you got in that thing?"

     
"You
can forget me ever listening to you," Blossom said, angling for another
blow. "Let me go!"

     
"No,
I--"

     
Clark
looped his arm around Bruce’s neck and yanked as hard as he could.
Nothing.

     
"That’s
it." Diana reached through the tangle of arms and put the supersqueeze on
Bruce’s wrist. "You’re a sexist clod, Bruce. I don’t know what I ever saw
in you. We’re through."

     
"Aaaaahh--"
Bruce clawed at Diana’s fingers with one hand. The other arm fended off
Blossom’s next attack.

     
Diana
gave him an elbow under the chin.

     
"Ooof."
Bruce fell back on the booth seat.

     
"You
go, girlfriend," the purple-haired woman yelled.

     
The
crowd pressed forward. "Come on," Clark said, tugging Blossom out of
Bruce’s limp grasp. "Let’s get out of here."

     
"Noooo!"
cried Bruce, lunging after them.

     
Diana
crossed her wrists in front of her chest. She spun around once,
fake
stomach bouncing, and kicked out a leg. Bruce tried to
vault it, aimed too low, and landed face first in the aisle.

     
Diana
scooped up the purple-haired woman’s lemon meringue pie and dumped it on
Bruce’s head. Bruce heaved himself to his knees. Diana jumped him.

     
"Ooof!"
Bruce’s lungs deflated.

     
They
went down, limbs flailing, rolling down the aisle. The crowd parted. Someone
called for the cops. The waitress shoved her way to the register and grabbed a
phone. The lady with the purple hair jumped up on her booth table and shouted a
play-by-play.

     
Clark
grabbed Blossom around the waist. He shoved her through the crowd, angling for
the back door. His laptop banged against his leg as they scurried around a
smelly dumpster, up an alley, and across Main Street. They veered right on
Broad
. Sirens sounded in the distance.

     
They
didn’t stop until they reached Blossom’s apartment. Clark doubled over in front
of the door, trying to catch his breath. A sharp pain sliced through his right
side. He was out of shape, no doubt about it.
Too many damn
hours in front of the computer.
He really should do something about
that. Take up jogging, maybe.

     
Beside
him, Blossom was shaking. Ah, hell. Bruce’s cave man tactics must have
traumatized her. Anger surged into Clark’s veins. He’d get Bruce back for this
one. The next time Bruce Wynn, Superjerk, tried to log onto his HI user
account, he’d better be prepared for a fight.

     
His
network connection was going down, down, down.

     
Blossom
shuddered again. Her hands covered her face and her shoulders heaved. Clark
shifted uneasily, passing his laptop from one hand to the other. Hell. He’d
rather confront twenty Evil Maniacal Geniuses than face a single feminine tear.
He didn’t know the first thing about pulling a hysterical woman together.

     
He
reached out and put a timid hand on Blossom’s shoulder. "It’s ... uh ...
all right."

     
Her
shoulders only shook harder. He took a deep breath and stepped a little closer,
patting her awkwardly on the arm.
"Blossom.
Please don’t..."

     
She
looked up and laughed in his face.

     
Clark
gaped at her. "You’re not crying."

     
"Crying?"
she gasped.
"God, no."
She dissolved in a
fit of giggles. "I’ve never ... seen anything ... so funny." She
doubled over again, fighting for breath.
"As when that
guy hit the ground."
She hiccupped.

     
Clark
let out a relieved snort. "Me neither." He sobered a little.
"I’m sorry I was late. The whole thing was my fault."

     
"No
it wasn’t," Blossom said quickly. "It was mine. I should have waited
for you. I should have known things wouldn’t work out with Bruce."

     
"Why not?"

     
She
sighed. "He was too good to be true."

     
"He’s
not good at all," Clark pointed out. "He’s a jerk.
A
totally ripped, phenomenally handsome jerk, but still."

     
"You’re
right," Blossom said. "I know you are. And I really try to like
regular guys. I do. But the truth is
,
they just don’t
turn me on. I mean, take you for example."

     
Clark
winced.

     
"You’re
great. You’re smart, nice, and you have a good sense of humor. You really seem
to like me--"

     
"I
do," Clark put in.

     
"--but
I just can’t get excited about you. It would make life a whole heck of a lot
easier if I could." Her voice rose, trembling dangerously. "I’m an
idiot." She started blinking furiously.

     
Damn.
Looked like those tears might materialize after all.

     
"Uh,
Blossom--"

     
"I’m
a loser, Clark.
A geeky loser."

     
"No,
you’re not," he said. "You’re just--"

     
"Don’t
tell me what I am."

     
"Uh,
okay. Listen, Blossom--"

     
"Do
you want to hear something really pathetic?" She couldn’t seem to meet his
gaze.

     
"No,
I--"

     
"I’ve
never had an orgasm."

     
"I
know. That’s why--"

     
Blossom’s
head snapped up. "You know? How the hell could you know? I just met you
two days ago."

     
"Uh,
I mean, I guessed," Clark said, backpedaling as fast as he could. "I
can tell you’re a woman who..."

     
"Who what?"

     
"Um...
You’re somebody that wouldn’t..."

     
"Wouldn’t
what?"

     
"Sleep
around," Clark finished feebly.

     
"Sleep
around? I don’t sleep around! Heck, I’m practically a virgin! How can you say
that?"

     
"I
didn’t," Clark pointed out swiftly. "I was just trying to say--"
"I’m a mess." Blossom’s eyes filled with tears.

     
"No,"
Clark said. He put down his laptop, inched closer, and draped one arm over her
shoulders. "You’re great.
Fantastic.
And very sexy."

     
"I’m
frigid."

     
"You’re
not. I’m sure you’ll have an orgasm when the right man comes along."

     
She
sniffed. "You really think so?"

     
"Yes,"
Clark said. "All you have to do is close your eyes."

     
"Close
my eyes?"

     
"Yeah.
Close your eyes and listen to your heart."

     
Blossom
sighed. "That’s easier said than done. I’m a very visually oriented
person, in case you hadn’t noticed."

     
"I
had," Clark said dryly. He maneuvered his free hand into his laptop zipper
compartment. "But you know
,
if you’re willing, I
could help you overcome that."

     
Blossom’s
brows drew together.
"How?"

     
He
lifted a narrow swath of black satin.
A blindfold.
One
of the purchases he’d made an hour ago. He dangled it in front of her.

     
"First,"
he said, "you tie this over your eyes."

     
Blossom
stared at the thing. "You want me to put on a blindfold?"

     
"Yes,"
Clark said. "I do." She closed her eyes, as if imagining it. He felt
a little shudder race through her.

     
He
started getting hard.

     
She
opened her eyes. "First I put on the blindfold," she repeated. She
frowned a little. "And then what happens?"

     
"Then,"
Clark said, "
you
trust me."

     
Saturday, 1:39 p.m.

     
Ten
hours, twenty-one minutes, and counting...

     
Clark’s
blindfold was black, soft, and utterly tantalizing. Blossom closed her eyes and
tried to imagine how it would feel draped over her face.
Blocking
her vision.
The bottom glided out of her belly and a soft tingling
sprang to life between her thighs.

     
Clark’s
low, rich voice washed over her, sending little ripples of pleasure across her
skin. "What do you say?"

     
Silence
stretched between them for one heartbeat, two,
three
.
"I don’t know," Blossom said finally.

     
He ran
the blindfold down her bare arm. It was cool, soft, and oh-so-smooth.
"Just try it. I’ll stop whenever you say."

     
She
believed him. He was too nice of a guy to lie to her.

     
She took
the long swath of material in her hands. The center was wide, and double
thickness. The ends narrowed into long ties. She held it up to her eyes,
pressing the fabric flat, trying to see through it.

     
Nothing.

     
Only inky darkness.

     
She
jumped when Clark’s warm hand descended on her nape. "Put it on," he
whispered. His breath was moist on her neck.
The tingling
between her thighs started up again, more urgent this time.
"Go
on."

     
With
shaking hands, she smoothed the blindfold over her eyes and crossed the laces
behind her head.

     
"Here,"
Clark said, easing the ties from her fingers. "Let me help you." With
swift, sure strokes, he secured the blindfold.

     
When she
reached up to touch it, he trapped her hands in his. "Just relax."

     
"All right.
I’ll try." It was a blatant lie.
Having her sight taken away had started her heart jack-hammering in her chest.
No way could she relax.

     
She felt
Clark shift behind her. He bent, as if retrieving something from the ground.
His laptop, she thought, a little smile touching her lips. He was such a geek.
But for the first time, the thought didn’t disturb her.