All That You Are (19 page)

This was actually nice—to have someone fix her something. She was always doing things for Terran, getting up constantly from the table to get him something: ketchup, juice or milk. It was a rare treat when someone served her. When she and her mom cooked, they dished their plates from the stove and not at the table.

Shortly, Mark brought her a plate of thinly sliced red apple and cheddar cheese wedges—with some crackers on the side. He joined her, his masculine weight depressing the cushion with little room to spare as his thigh touched hers.

“In case you changed your mind about the mini-pizza bites in a box,” he said, gesturing toward the crackers. Setting the plate on the coffee table, he went to pour more wine into her glass but she put her hand in his way.

“No more. I can feel it.”

His brow rose and he gave her that slightly dimpled grin that could infuriate her. “Really? Can you show me?”

Exasperated, Dana stared at him. “Dammit, Mark. Why?”

Through a smile, he countered, “What?”

“You know what. Cut it out. You're acting like a five-year-old. I can hang out with my son if I want to be around someone who's a goof.”

He took a piece of cheese. “My brothers have always said I had people laughing wherever I went. I was the kid who made farm animal noises during American Lit.”

“Why?”

“Because it got me attention.”

“Why? I don't like attention.”

“I can tell.”

“So why do you?”

“I don't anymore.” The cheese disappeared, then he ate an apple slice. “It was a way to get my dad to notice me.”

“He didn't?”

“Not in the same way he noticed my brothers.”

This was very telling news about Mark. Clearly a larger family had more kids vying for parents' time. Terrance had never been that way. She and her brother had received equal time from their mom and dad. Probably more from Dad because he'd been eager to show them how to play the saxophone and learn jazz. Terrance had played ten times better than her.

Sampling an apple slice, Dana thoughtfully chewed the crisp, sweet fruit. “Do you have any regrets?”

“Sunshine,
that
is a loaded question.” He finished his wine and poured another, adding Cabernet to her glass before she could stop him. She'd finished almost all of her second glass, just because it was there. “Sure I have regrets.”

“Name one.”

“You,” he responded easily. Too easily for her comfort.

She drank more wine, its fiery heat sliding into her belly, then she turned to meet his eyes. “Why pick me?”

Intense brown eyes held her captive. “I wish you lived in Boise so I could get to know you better.”

“You'd lose interest in me after a week.”

“Not hardly.”

“Sure you would. I'm just a challenge—something you can't have, so I'm appealing.” She drank another sip, the wine drugging her senses.

“I don't think you're appealing. I think you're sexy as all hell. And I want to kiss you again.”

Dana swallowed, the apple in her hand pausing midway to her mouth. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“That's just your opinion.” Mark's body leaned into hers and he took her wineglass from her, setting it down next to his.

Her heartbeat slammed in her chest and she fought to calm herself. She didn't want to fall for him. Didn't want to think about how attracted she was to him. And she refused to acknowledge he was easy to talk to.

In a desperate attempt to stave off the inevitable—her melting into him—she said flippantly, “Maybe I didn't like the way you kissed me.”

“You're a liar and you know it.”

He had her and he did know it. She couldn't figure out how to stop him, stop this…Probably because she didn't want to. “I don't lie,” she replied, her voice mottled with emotions.

“Yeah, you do.” His intense face hovered over hers while his heavy arm draped over her shoulder.

Whether it was the wine relaxing her resolve or the need to be blatantly honest, she admitted, “I have found myself thinking about that kiss…wanting to touch you.” Heat burned her cheeks. “But I'll get over it.”

“You don't have to get over it. You can have some more.”

She cast her eyes down, unable to meet his stare. He cupped her chin in his callused hand and gently tilted it up.

“Touch me,” he commanded softly.

For the briefest of moments, refusal coursed through her, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. Just this one time she would succumb to the feelings for him that had been haunting her.

Tentatively, her hands rose to his shirt collar. He wore a T-shirt beneath a button-down. She caught the superfine material in her fingers and felt the weave. It had been a long time since she had touched a man like this. Her movements were slow and fragile, unintentionally bringing a grimace of arousal across his face as if she were deliberately trying to seduce him.

The feeling of the round shirt buttons was cool beneath her skin, and she rolled one between her fingertips. A low guttural noise rose from Mark's throat.

She gingerly slid her hands over his torso, feeling his warmth seeping through the fabric. He ignited under her slow exploration, burning her palms with his body heat even through the cloth.

Slowly she moved to his flat abdomen, fingering the trail of buttons and wondering…what if…she undid them. She marked each rib with her fingers, moving to the slight rise of his solid chest, tracing the dark hair at his throat. He was all man. Strong and virile, without an ounce of unwanted flesh.

She heard Mark's ragged breath catch in his chest. Her hands grazed him with a blend of innocent sensuality, but she knew damn well what she was doing.

It had been so long since she'd been with a man.

“Dana.” Mark's rough voice fell on her ears. “You're taking me to heaven and hell at the same time. You better stop.”

“Shh.” She put her fingertip to his mouth, surprised by her own daring. It must be the wine, or the aching loneliness, or just because it felt so good to touch him—she didn't want to stop.

In a testament to Mark's willpower, he continued to let her roam his body freely, discovering what he was made of.

Dana moved up to the tendons of his neck and buried her hands in his thick hair. Coarse and silky at the same time, it smelled like a hint of outdoors and shampoo.

He didn't move as she felt his face the same way he had felt hers that night they had kissed in the rain. His forehead was smooth and bronze from the sun. She ran her thumbs over his eyebrows from where they were fully arched to the outer part where they tapered, making him look like he was scowling. He had closed his eyes, his lashes surprisingly soft and full as her own. She felt the strong, straight bone of his nose.

As she tenderly caressed his face, she ran her finger
tips over his full mouth and finally over the stubbled beard that—

Abruptly, his eyes shot open and the vise grip of his fingers circled both her wrists. “Dammit,” he moaned deeply. “Do you know what you're doing to me?”

He gently but firmly pushed her back into the sofa, lying on top of her with a pleasant weight, one she welcomed. This time it was she who briefly closed her eyes.

She felt the hard length of him behind the fly of his jeans. He rested on his elbows and caught her face, then took her mouth.

There was an urgency to the kiss this time, not like the softness of before. She welcomed him, her coaxing lips eager to pleasure him, as well.

He tasted of cheese and red apples and the hard sweetness of wine. She moved her hands down the broad expanse of his shoulders and back, clutching his waist and finally feeling the tight muscles of his backside. She shivered in his arms, passion radiating in every nerve ending of her body.

Mark's hands burrowed into her hair, the straightened black length that she'd softened with products. He cupped her head in his wide, rough hands, kissing her and tracing the soft fullness of her lips, then changing the slant of his kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth and she was lost. She met him, sparring with him, drawing him deeper into her mouth.

It was all she could do not to wiggle out of her clothes to feel the velvet warmth of his bare skin next to hers. He slid his hand down her neck and shoulder, kneading her with his fingers, savoring and exploring. When he came
to her breast, he moved slowly and artfully over its fullness.

Dana's cry was lost on his lips as Mark gently stroked her breast. Her nipple sprang into a hard, tight peak against the thin layer of her bra. For a long moment, he caressed her over her sweater, kissing her with deep, drowning kisses. Only after she thought she would die if he didn't touch her bare skin, did he slide his hand under her top. He managed to move her bra aside and covered her breast with his hand. She burned from the contact, arching her back to him.

The motion brought a groan from Mark, who pulled the knit aside to reveal her breast. Her skin seared under his gaze. She'd always been a little self-conscious about the size of her breasts and the dark nipples.

She moved to cover herself, but Mark shook his head, tracing her with his fingertip and vaguely smiling with pleasure.

Dana felt herself falling into a sexual pool she had never known existed. Kissing and touching had never felt this recklessly sexy with Cooper. Never this bone-marrow melting. Her body was damp from sweat, the core between her legs aching with need and wanting.

But as delicious as the sensations Mark evoked in her were, they were taken away. He righted her bra, smoothed her sweater back into place and lowered a leisurely kiss on her parted lips.

The cloud of desire waned and her thoughts scattered. She would have gone to bed with him. No doubt about it. And that sobered her—angered her—that she could just throw caution to the wind. She wasn't on any kind of birth control—until now there had never been a need.

Mark moved off her, a fine sheen of perspiration covering his brow. His heart hammered in his chest, she could see it in the pulse at his neck.

“It's time I take you home,” he said in a raspy tone.

Dana gazed at him, her face flushed. Suddenly she became self-conscious of her actions. How could she have let herself be so transparent? She'd let her guard down. In fact, she might as well have used dynamite on it. It was gone, obliterated. All that she had left was a painful vulnerability and the sweet ache inside her that still wanted to be satisfied by his body on hers.

Mark combed his hair with his fingers, taking a long shot of wine to clear his head. “Let's get your coat.”

“I need to get my shoes on first,” she replied, slightly abruptly. The guy was pushing her out the door and she grew perturbed.

Standing and moving into the kitchen for his keys and wallet, Mark threw on his coat then came to wait for her by the sofa. She slipped her vest on and grabbed her purse.

Before she could take a step to the door, he put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her sweetly on the mouth. With a tilt of his chin, he rested his forehead on the top of her head.

“Go out with me next week,” he said, his words surprising her.

She didn't think she could be around him anymore, not alone. She couldn't trust herself. Thankfully, she had an out. “I can't. I have my son.”

“Bring him, too. We'll go to dinner. And whatever else there is to do in this town that Terran likes to do.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm asking.” He lifted his face and stared into hers. “Because it will give us something to look forward to.”

“K
AH-POW!
M
OMMA,
I just tasered you!” Terran aimed a dead cell phone at her hip and made a garbled detonating noise from his mouth, blasting her again.

A large shocking orange vest swam on his little boy frame with
SECURITY
spelled out in big letters on the back. Cooper had given him a defective phone that had been returned to GCI and Terran had created a pretend gun with it.

Five minutes late, Cooper had pulled to the curb to drop their son off, and Dana had come down to greet them. Terran had spilled from the Jeep in an animated fashion, eager to show her what he'd been up to.

“Hey, Mommy—watch this!” He spread his legs apart at the curb and aimed at Cooper's stomach. “Hannah Montana is a stupid butt.”

“Terran,” Dana cautioned, collecting his belongings. “Don't say ‘butt' and don't say ‘stupid.”'

Cooper added his opinion. “But Hannah Montana is stupid.” He didn't back her in the discipline department—no big surprise. Hair touched his brow as he bent down to tie his shoe. “That Miley chick makes bank—and for what? Looking like a dweeb on the Disney Channel.”

“Mommy—I'm security for Miley Cyrus's concert and I use a Taser on anyone who tries to kill her on the stage.”

“Honestly, Cooper,” Dana hissed beneath her breath. “Do you really think that's a positive role-play game for our son?”

Rising to his feet, Cooper shrugged. “He found the security vest at Ben's and he wanted to wear it home. Ben said he could. That night Terran was flipping from Nickelodeon to the Disney Channel, he wanted to know who Miley Cyrus was. I swear to you, he got it into his head to be security for her. Not my fault.”

Ben was Cooper's friend and the goalie on their adult league team. Not the brightest crayon in the box, Ben worked for Tongass Sanitation. Cooper had been buddies with him for years, and while Dana didn't necessarily think Ben made the greatest impression on her son, there were worse friends Cooper could hang out with.

“Well, I don't want him going around saying he's going to kill people.” Dana grabbed the backpack from Cooper's hand. “That's not normal for a five-year-old.”

“Hell, yeah it is. When I was Terran's age, I set ants on fire with matches,” Cooper said in a low tone. “And I laughed when I watched them sizzle and fry.”

“Terran's not allowed to play with matches.”

“Neither was I.”

With a slightly disgruntled tug, Dana took the lumpy plastic grocery bag from Cooper's grasp. “What's in here?”

“I had to buy him some new tennis shoes. His old ones are shot. They're in the bag.”

“Thanks.”

She and Cooper didn't have a limited amount they spent on Terran each week. No game playing with checkbooks and crying broke. Both of them were pretty good about buying him what he needed if he needed it, and the expenses seemed to balance out.

Neither of them paid the other financial support for their son, but Cooper was responsible enough to carry medical insurance that covered Terran's doctor and dental visits. They'd had to use the E.R. once when Terran, wet and horsing around, slipped in the bathtub. His top teeth had cut into his lower lip, requiring stitches inside his mouth. Dana didn't know how much that bill had totaled, but she assumed it would have been significant even after the deductible. Cooper had never asked her to pay half the cost.

Terran climbed the cement steps by the gate and pointed the Taser at the newel posts, with gusto-filled sound effects. His red Kung Fu Panda T-shirt had a dark stain down the front—possibly grape jelly or cola and whipping cream. Beneath the hems of faded-in-the-knees blue jeans, he displayed black-and-lime sneakers with spanking new rubber soles.

“So who was that guy?” Cooper asked with a snort, closing the Jeep's tailgate after shoving Riley's face back in. The dog gave a short and deep-chested bark.

Thankfully Terran's preoccupation with the security vest and gun had kept him from mentioning his desire for a dog of his own.

“What guy?” Dana replied, having a good hunch she knew just what Cooper was talking about.

“That guy you brought to Terran's hockey practice.”

“Oh, him.” Dana feigned a casualness in her tone she
didn't necessarily feel. Her cheeks heated in remembrance of the other night on Mark's sofa and she did her best not to clue Cooper in on her thoughts. “He works for me.”

“Bartender?”

Cooper never came into the Blue Note. He wasn't a party-boy drinker and, even if he had been, he wouldn't have set foot into her bar. He would have gone to the Arctic where he could play pool.

All Dana offered was, “He's doing some remodel work for me.”

“I just wondered if you were dating him.”

“Would it matter, Cooper?”

“Momma, I'm going to go get Grandma with my Taser.”

“Go ahead, baby. She's in the kitchen waiting for you with milk and carrot sticks.”

“Barf,” Terran muttered with a gagging expression. Then he dug into his pocket for foil-wrapped candy kisses.

When he'd climbed all the steps and had gone inside, Dana confronted Cooper. “I wish you wouldn't give him candy, Cooper. I'm trying to keep him off too much sugar.”

“He's a kid. He can have candy.”

All but snapping, she tossed back, “But you won't have to deal with him tonight when he's hyper and can't fall asleep.”

“He doesn't have any problems at my house.”

Cooper slid aviator sunglasses over his eyes. “You're such a control freak. Everything has to be your way or no way at all. Jeez, Dana. Lighten up. No wonder you don't have a boyfriend.”

Then he slipped into the Jeep and drove away.

Dana watched his vehicle disappear, rattling off a few choice swear words in her head. Cooper could really piss her off.

The rest of that Sunday evening, Dana dumped Terran's dirty clothes in the washer, took his belongings to his room and sorted through the variety of odd things he'd brought home. Then her mom called for dinner and they visited with him at the table.

Suni busied herself at the kitchen counter, spooning rice from the cooker into a bowl. Often, they ate Chinese food. Suni was an excellent cook and knew just how to spice things while not making the food so hot you couldn't eat it.

When they were seated at the small table, they discussed the week ahead, what they would do together, and how many more days until school started.

The scene was intimate and warm, with laughter and fun talk, something Dana relished and looked forward to. The nights she worked at the Blue Note, she missed this terribly.

After dinner cleanup, she took Terran upstairs and ran the bath for him. He sank into the water, surrounded by tub toys, making splashing sounds for battleships, then painted bath paint on the walls and on his chest. She rinsed and dried him off, cuddling him in the towel and soaking in his clean boy scent.

Pressing her face against the silky softness in the curve of his damp neck, she smiled, holding her breath and thinking she was so lucky.

“Mommy, I'm giving you a bigger hug,” Terran said, then she lost her balance as he thrust his weight at her.

They fell backward on the floor, onto the wet throw rug and tiles. She held him tightly so he couldn't squiggle away. But he didn't attempt to. He wrapped his tiny arms around her neck and nestled in, staying close.

Dana lay there, arms around her son, staring at the ceiling light. Terran played with her hair, twirling it in his fingers as he had done when he was an infant as he'd nursed. With a soft caress, she ran her hand down his back, feeling his spine and listening to him breathe.

No words were spoken.

She didn't want the moment to pass because as he approached five, and kindergarten, he could very well grow up in a little boy way and mommies wouldn't be cool anymore to hug and hold on to.

She loved him beyond description, and the sweet joy he gave her was as pure as anything she could ever imagine.

Terran tired of her lock hold and wiggled away, leaving cool air to snatch away his warm body heat that had blanketed her. In his room, she helped him get into his blue jammies, then he crawled into bed. He lay there with stuffed animals surrounding him, blankets and pillows tucked in just how he liked them.

As she sat on his bed, the night-light giving off a tiny glow, she fondled his hair, smoothing it off his forehead.

“Hey, Momma?” he asked, his face serious.

“What?”

Cuddling his teddy bear, he questioned, “Can we have a sleepover at Dad's?”

Momentarily thrown off-kilter, Dana said, “No, Terran. That won't be possible.”

“Why not?”

“Because Mom and Dad don't live together.”

“How come?”

“Because we each have our own houses and that's just how it is.”

Terran's eyes held hers, and with the somberness too mature for a boy his age, he uttered, “That's not fair.”

Her heart broke and she wished that what he said wasn't true. But his situation wasn't fair, and she ached for him. Guilt was a heavy burden on her shoulders, but there was nothing she could do. This was the way things were.

“I'm sorry,” was all she could offer.

Terran rubbed the underside of his nose, then mumbled in a disgruntled tone, “How come Daddy can have a sleepover? Tori spends the night.”

That startling news prickled every sense within Dana and she felt her pulse pump in a rapid surge. “Tori?”

“The lady who said hi to me at Burger Queen.”

“Tori sleeps over?”

“Uh-huh. So I think you should, too. With me and Dad. And then we can all have a happy sleepover.” Stifling a yawn, he added in a muffled voice, “Can you make me pancakes tomorrow?”

 

A
FINE DRIZZLE HIT
the windshield like a million gnats steadily coming at Mark. The intermittent wipers barely cleaned the glass then it was sprayed once more.

His mind drew upon an absent thought: this weather could drive someone nuts living in it day in and day out.

As he headed for the building supply store, his cell rang.

“Moretti,” he answered.

“Mark, it's your brother Robert.”

“Robert, hey, how's it going?”

Genuinely glad to hear from his brother, the call pulled Mark back to Boise, another time and another place, where he had roots and a home. While deep into the Blue Note's renovation, he didn't think about responsibilities in Idaho.

Robert's phone call gave him a quick reality check.

“Things are great down here.”

“You staying busy?” Mark responded, clicking on the truck's blinker to pull into Talbot's parking lot.

“This economy stinks, but I'm doing a pretty good business. In fact, I can't complain. I've had steady customers every night. Another restaurant closed in Boise and it's not looking good for a friend of mine.”

“Yeah, you kind of forget about things like that up here. It's a lot different, like you're in a time warp or something.”

“So how's the remodel coming along?”

“Great.” Robert knew about his work on the Blue Note. He'd mentioned it to their sister. “While I'm waiting for my steel sections to get here, we're installing a platform tomorrow at the fire evac access. I've got some welders lined up. I may even throw a hood on myself and do some joint work.”

“Just like you did on the Grove.”

“I don't mind.”

And that was the truth of the matter. Mark enjoyed building things, and more important, he'd realized he liked doing smaller projects like this one. The return was faster, and he could see the changes take place sooner versus later. So far, the place was really shaping up and he was happy
with how things had been going. Of course once he was finished, he'd have nothing left to do but head home.

That prospect left him flat.

“How's everybody else?” Mark asked. “Franci okay? Mom?”

“They're good. Mom says you don't call enough.”

“She would say that.”

“Yeah, she mentioned she's e-mailing some lady you know in town. I forget her name.”

Mark turned off the truck's engine and sat in the building supply's parking lot, a fine rain covering the windshield. When he'd given Suni his mom's e-mail, he hadn't been certain she'd contact Mariangela. He'd pretty much forgotten about it. “That'd be Suni Jackson, Dana's mom.”

“Dana?”

“She owns the bar I'm fixing up. She lives with her mother, whose name is Suni. She's a widow, too. I figured her and Mom would have stuff in common.”