Home to Harmony (16 page)

His talks with David seemed to be going well, so that was good. Christine, however, was making him crazy.

He couldn’t get her out of his mind. He kept remembering holding her, touching her, how right it had felt to be with her. He’d taken his own advice and kept himself busy, but in quiet moments, Christine filled his head.

In fact…was that her in the yard? He rubbed his eyes. Yes, it was—in a pale sundress, Lady at her side, walking toward the cottonwoods. She looked like a ghost from some Gothic mystery.

As if she sensed his gaze, she turned and looked up at him, wiggling her fingers in a hesitant wave. Heat poured through him. He wanted her so badly. This was pure torture.

Lady let out a howl, as if channeling his frustration.

She could feel the scratchy edge of the condom packet she’d tucked into her sundress. She carried it with her each night in case she lost her fight against temptation.

She waved at him. He waved back. Electricity seemed to jump between them, eating up the distance until she could almost see the green of his eyes in the moonlight.

Lady let out a terrible howl, as if giving voice to her own longing. Christine’s heart hammered her ribs like hail on a window.

He’d seen her, she might as well go talk to him. About David. About his book. About anything. Where was the harm in that?

She just wanted to see him, feel his eyes on her, his mouth against hers—no, that was wrong.

Of course, David was in town with the twins, so there was no danger of him seeing her slip into Marcus’s room….

Lady jolted forward, toward the house, and Christine followed, as if pulled by a leash she did not hold.

The door was open when she got there. Marcus took her hand and pulled her inside. He paused, waiting for Lady to enter, but the dog dropped to her haunches, as if on duty, so he shut the door and took Christine into his arms.
Thank God.

They stood there, holding each other, for long minutes, as they had that night in Dylan’s old room, the night of the mosquito salve and Marcus’s tragic story. She felt as she had then, as if she’d taken warm shelter from some terrible storm.

“I missed this,” she said against his neck, smelling the woods-and-fresh-laundry smell of him. He was breathing hard and holding her as if he would never let her go.

“Me, too.” He leaned back to look at her. “Is it safe for you to be here? What about David?”

“He’s in town.”

“That’s good then.”

“I know we had good reasons to stop,” she said. “For David and so I could stay focused.”

“Very good reasons.”

She swallowed hard. “But this seems important, too. I just…can’t stop thinking about you. It’s making me crazy. It’s making it so I
can’t
focus.”

“I understand completely.” His eyes swirled with held-back emotion, shining in the golden lamplight of his new room.

“Is it selfish? Shortsighted?”

“Perhaps.” He gave a quick smile, but held her gaze.

“Then I should go.” But her body seemed to have a mind of its own and her arms tightened on his broad, strong back.

“You probably should,” Marcus said. Christine’s heart sank. Why did he have to be stronger than her? “But I don’t want you to.” His voice was rough with need. “I want you to stay.”

Then he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her, long and slow, letting the desire build and swell into a wave they could surf all night long.

Hurray. At last. She could give in, stop fighting this. And Marcus was right there with her, giving in, too.

He cupped her breasts through the soft jersey fabric, then frowned. “What’s this?” He patted her breast, then reached under the top and pulled out the strip of two condoms. He raised an eyebrow.

“I always carry them. In case of emergency.”

“Good girl,” he said, his eyes merry with humor. But beneath the laughter, heat simmered steadily.

“We really didn’t get a chance to see how we could be together, you know?” she said. “The fire happened and I panicked. Do you think we can keep it simple?”

“I have no idea. This is new to me. I never behave this way or feel this way or get so…overwrought.”

“
Overwrought?
Good God, Marcus, that’s not very sexy. How about
insanely turned on? Passionately aroused? Utterly obsessed?
”

“All I know is that whenever I see you I want to throw you against the nearest wall and take you standing up.”

“That works,” she said, his urgency making her even hotter. To drive a man as restrained as Marcus to such passion was a thrill. “Being together seems inevitable.”

“Nothing’s inevitable, Christine. We have choices here.”

“So I can’t use the we-got-swept-away excuse?” She couldn’t believe she was joking when she was electric with desire for this man, desperate to have him inside her.

“Not with a wad of condoms in your fist, no.”

“I guess not.”

He lifted her off her feet and walked her backward to his bed, lowering her to the mattress.

“We’re good for each other, don’t you think?” she said, trying for one more good reason. She tugged his shirt from his pants and over his head.

He pushed the strapless sundress to her waist, his eyes flaring at the sight of her breasts.

“I mean I wake you up and you calm me down, right? That’s good, isn’t it?” He’d been so wounded—by Nathan’s death, his professional crisis, the media mess, his divorce. Maybe she was helping him heal. He was helping her with David, giving her comfort and safety and friendship, erasing the loneliness she hadn’t realized she felt.

“What’s good is you’re here,” he said, tugging her clothes down her body and away, “and you’re naked.”

She could only gasp, having lost all her reasons along with her panties.

He hardly recognized himself. He was flying without a net here. Whether he needed one or not remained to be seen.

He rid himself of his clothes and had Christine’s soft flesh in his hands, her gasps and cries in his ears. She yanked him into position and locked her heels into his backside, telling him in no uncertain terms where she wanted him and how hard and fast.

This time he didn’t resist. He filled her in one stroke, making her cry out in sharp pleasure. He pulled back and thrust again. Her eyes went wide and she lifted her hips, matching each push with a welcoming one of her own. He watched her face, so alive with heat and happiness and hope.

He wanted to make this last, to never stop, to look into her eyes forever. He was experiencing a biochemical short circuit, of course, as every pleasure enzyme in his brain fired at once, but he would enjoy it all the same.

They rocked together, slow at first, then faster, moving together, two halves of a whole until they broke open together in climax, gasping for air.

Afterward, he pulled her onto his chest, his heart thundering beneath his ribs. He didn’t speak and neither did she. Once their breathing had normalized, he turned her on her side and spooned himself behind her, one hand on her breast, soaking up the quiet peace, resisting all doubts or analysis.

This was supposed to be simple. But he knew already it would be complicated as hell.

“Go ahead,” Marcus said, wiping sweat from his forehead. David had turned out to be decent with a hammer and he worked hard, clearly determined to make up for what he’d done.

Though David had continued to be hostile with Christine, Marcus had seen improvement. He was a good kid who felt emotions intensely, very much like Christine herself.

He decided to take a break, too, and make Christine take one, as well. She worked nonstop if no one intervened. Hell, he just wanted to be near her.

He filled his water jug from the container on the terrace, grabbed two peaches from a basket and headed downstairs.

Christine had turned Harmony House into a swarm of activity. Residents wielded rollers of bright yellow paint or brushes of white for the trim and terraces. The Barlow twins and some friends were painting the room doors in colors and designs sketched by art students from the high school and approved by Christine and Aurora.

Trenches had been dug for a Xeriscape sprinkling system in the front yard, which meant minimal water use. Desert trees and cacti rested in truck beds waiting to be planted.

Heading for the clay barn, due to be painted red, Marcus noticed David talking to one of the art students, Delia Dominguez, the daughter of Carlos’s nurse. Marcus smiled. David seemed to be moving past his grief over Brigitte just fine.

Inside the earthy-smelling barn, light filtered gently through the high windows, making dust motes swirl and dance around Christine, who was unloading clay items from the kiln.

She noticed him and smiled.

“Need a break?” He held out his water jug.

She drank thirstily, heedless of the rivulets escaping her mouth to spill down her pretty throat. He wanted to kiss her there, taste the water on her sweet skin.

She handed him the jug, and he held out one of the peaches. “Too busy. A bunch of orders came in yesterday.”

“Take a break with me,” he said. “Come see what you’ve set in motion.” He gestured outdoors.

She smiled her thousand-watt smile. “All right, I guess.” Clay dust covered her hair and he reached to brush it away.

“Careful,” she murmured, stepping back, darting glances in all directions to be certain no one had noticed his move. They’d kept their affair secret from everyone so far.

“There’s dust in your hair.”

She shook her head, then roughed her curls with both hands, sending her scent his way.

“I want to touch you so bad right now.” He could not get enough of her. When she wasn’t in his arms, she was in his head.

She shut her eyes, trembling a little at his words. “I know,” she whispered. “Tonight after supper.”

“Dammit, this computer’s busted!” Aurora yelled from the office area, which they’d protected from dust with heavy plastic sheets since the computer had arrived.

“It’s not broken,” Christine called to her. “Read the instructions I wrote down about the database program.”

Aurora grumbled, then said, “There. I fixed it.”

Christine rolled her eyes. “She acts like the Web site and the computer are a pain, but she spends hours glued to the screen. Yesterday, she told me all about Google searches.”

He smiled at the tenderness in her voice. “You’re not as irritated as you’re trying to sound.”

“That’s only because she’s occupied back there, not railing about how landscaping violates the spirit of Harmony House. I promised she could approve every hedge and paint chip, but I didn’t think she’d take me up on it.”

“Better than being an armchair quarterback after the fact.”

“Oh, she’ll do that, too, just you wait.”

“But you’re smiling, Christine. Not gritting your teeth.”

“I am?” She paused. “Maybe I’m getting used to her.” She took a bite of the peach Marcus held out to her. Juice dribbled down her chin. She wiped it with the heel of her hand.

“You missed a little,” he said, running his thumb across her lower lip.

“Oh, don’t,” she breathed, stepping away. “You’ll make me faint dead away.”

He led her out to the yard and they sat on the top rail of the fence. Around them they could hear the chuff of shovels and friendly chatter, punctuated by bursts of laughter.

“This is going great, huh?” She looked out at all the work being done. “We’re going to paint the kitchen and dining room and furnish more sleeping rooms. I’ve got ads in some travel magazines and bookings are up already.”

“Sounds very promising.”

“It is, I think.”

“And you sound happy.”

“I’m enjoying this a lot. It’s like giving the place a fresh start…with the Internet.” She grinned.

“You’re making the changes you joked about needing if you were going to stay here. Are you thinking about that?”

“Thinking about it? Not really. I mean…I’ll miss it, I know….” She seemed to suddenly realize something and looked directly at him. “It will be hard to leave.” She meant hard to leave him.

“It will be,” he said, letting that fact sink in.

“But there’s no point planning the end when we’re in the middle, right?” She seemed to force herself to brighten.

“No,” he said, wishing he were better at dealing with loss.

“Looks like David’s talking to Delia again,” Christine said, nodding in that direction. “I’m going to hire her to take bookings and market us with travel agencies.” She paused. “You think that’s okay? She’s a year older than him.”

“He’s making friends. That’s a good thing.”

“I just hate to see him laying his heart on the chopping block for another girl’s ax. I want to grab her by the shoulders and say,
please don’t hurt him.
”

“You’re assuming the worst.”

“The worst happens. Better to be prepared.” She sighed. “He’s braver than I am, I guess. More hopeful.”

“Hey, now, where’s your excessive optimism?”

“When it comes to love, I’m a hard-bitten realist, baby.”

Don’t give up hope,
he wanted to say. Talk about excessive optimism.