Pursued by the Playboy (24 page)

“Left!”

Kate watched in amusement as Marc palmed a half-dollar and made it reappear as if by magic from behind Dave’s left ear.  The boy laughed and accepted the coin, before trotting off toward his cousins.

Marc reclaimed Kate’s hand.  “Looks like we’ll be burning off some calories after lunch.”

“You’re serious?”

“A promise is a promise,” he said gravely.  “Dr. Spock just bought us some time, that’s all.”

“Dr. Spock?”

“Actually, the DiStefano interpretation of
the pediatrician’s
advice.  First off, never underestimate the power of distraction.  Second, always offer two options:  option A or option B.  That gives the child a choice.  More than two options, and he might feel overwhelmed.   Less than two options, and you leave o
pen the possibility that he’ll
simply refuse.”

“Two options,” Kate repeated.  “Makes sense.”

“And now…” his voice trailed off as he attempted to steer them away from a tall young man with a shock of blond hair and bright green eyes, but the man only grinned and deliberately intercepted their path. 

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
the newcomer
said.

Marc tightened his arm around Kate, resting a heavy hand on her hip.  “Kate, this is Rob Amira.”

A large callused hand engulfed hers.  “A pleasure,” he said, dimples flashing.  “Sophia’s my aunt.  She’s very keen to meet you.”

Marc gritted his teeth.  “That’s where we were heading, until you interrupted.”

Kate frowned, but Rob seemed to brush Marc’s rudeness aside.  “I’ll join you.  They’ve been holding off the speeches and toasts, waiting for you to arrive.”

“Buzz off,” Marc growled. 

“Come on, cuz, don’t be that way.”  Rob fell into step beside them.  “I wouldn’t dream of sticking my nose in when true love’s at stake.  It is true love, isn’t it?”

“Ignore him,” Marc told Kate. 

She glanced up at his rigid profile.  Whatever the source of rivalry between the two men, Marc was clearly not interested in laying it to rest.  Nor did he seem willing to enlighten her about it.  Fine, then.  She pasted on a smile and turned to Marc’s cousin.  “It’s nice to meet you, Rob.  Have you and Marc always been close?”

The younger man laughed.  “Marc’s six years older, but was always seven grades ahead.  So even though we went to the same schools, it was never at the same time.  And unlike Marc here, who took forever to finish, I’ve been out in the real world working for a living for the past seven years.”

“Oh, are you a doctor too?”

“Architect.  Maybe you’ve heard of our firm, Amira Associates?”

Kate shook her head. 

“It’s my dad and me.  My brother Frank will come on board once he finishes his degree in the spring.  We do mostly residential stuff—single- and multi-family homes, landscape design.”  He glanced at Marc’s stony expression and grinned.  “You should come by the office sometime, Kate.  I’ll show you models of some of our projects.” 

Marc cursed under his breath and stopped abruptly,
letting go of Kate.  He stepped around her, his broad back blocking her view of his cousin, and swung his arm up.   Expecting to hear the sound of a fist against flesh, she winced and moved to the side, ready to pull Marc away by the elbow.  Instead, she saw that he had a fistful of the younger man’s shirt in his grip, and was pulling him forward until their faces almost touched.  Though they were of a height, Marc was broader across the chest and shoulders, the muscles in his arm flexing through
the thin cotton of his shirt
.

“You leave her alone,” he said, voice harsh with barely suppressed violence.  “You turn around and walk away and forget you ever saw her.  She is off limits to you.  Do you understand?”

Rob grinned and raised his hands in a universal gesture of surrender.  “Got it.  Whatever you say.”

Marc released him and stepped back.  Then, as if nothing had happened, he draped his arm back around Kate’s waist and ushered her away.

Kate cleared her throat.  “Want to tell me what that was about?”

“No.” 

They walked several dozen more steps in silence.  She kept her eyes trained on their destination—the nearest tent, where it appeared that most of the tables were already occupied.   “Let me guess,” she said.  “You were both in love with the same girl.”

Tension vibrated down his arm.  “Love had nothing to do with it.”

“Fine.  You were sleeping with the same girl?”

“For God’s sake, Kate.”  He stopped and turned to face her.  “It was a long time ago.  He’s always been jealous of what’s mine, don’t ask me why.  Fact is, it doesn’t matter.  He was welcome to her.”   His other hand settled on Kate’s hip and he brought her closer, head dipping until their lips were a breath apart.  “But I don’t want him anywhere near you, okay?”

“You don’t trust me?”

“It’s him I don’t trust.  And this time it’s different.”  His lips grazed hers.
“This matters.”

She sighed and his mouth captured the sound, tongue running over her lips, delving deeper.  Her pulse accelerated, and she forgot for a moment that they were in the open, in full view of scores of curious eyes.  She threaded her fingers into his hair, and pressed up against him, rubbing her suddenly sensitive breasts against his rock-solid chest.  He drew back slightly, resting his forehead against hers.  His harsh breath feathered over her flushed cheeks. 

The sound of chuckling nearby, followed by a shushing noise, brought her out of her haze.  Marc glanced up and cleared his throat.  Slowly easing back, while keeping one arm firmly anchored around her waist, he said, “Sophia, Dad,
I’d like you to
meet Katherine Warner.  Kate,
these are
my parents
,
Sophia and Joseph DiStefano.”

Chapter 24

There were probably more humiliating things than meeting your lover’s parents for the first time after they practically caught you
in flagrante delicto
with their son.   But Kate couldn’t think of any at the moment.

At least they reacted with indulgent good humor instead of shock or disapproval.   Sophia welcomed her warmly, saying how delighted she was to finally meet the woman she’d been hearing such wonderful things about from all three of her children.  Joseph smiled and mentioned that he had read some of her publications.

“Mighty fine work,” he said, congratulating her on the research award she had received a couple months ago. 

Until that moment, she hadn’t realized to what extent Marc’s family was privy to the details of her life.   “Why didn’t you tell me your whole family was there that night?” she asked Marc on the drive back to
Rittenhouse Square
. 

“Not the whole family,” he corrected.  “Just my parents, Emma, Alex, and Izzy.”

“Immediate family, then.”

“Would it have made a difference, knowing that?”

Kate hesitated.  She didn’t need to point out the obvious.  It was clear to anyone with the least bit of insight that she was a far cry from Marc’s usual conquests.  What she lacked in overblown physical attributes, she more than made up for in brains, career ambition, and an independent streak a mile wide.  While these weren’t necessarily the qualities that would attract an incorrigible playboy, perhaps said playboy’s family had different standards about what made a woman desirable.  “It might have explained why they have such great expectations about us.”

“You mean, because I’m finally seeing someone whose IQ exceeds her bra size?”

She flushed.  “You don’t have to be crude about it.” 

“Sorry.”  He flashed an unrepentant grin. “They liked you.”

The funny thing was she had liked them too.  Embarrassing moments aside, she had enjoyed herself more in the company of Marc’s huge raucous family than she ever had with her own.  Even the taunting run-in with his cousin Rob Amira had been tempered by Rob’s apology later, grudgingly accepted by Marc, and accompanied by Rob’s lighthearted wink at her. 

Marc pulled into the garage.  “How’s the stomach?”

“Fine,” she said.  “Sorry about all the drama earlier.”

He opened the door and ushered her inside.  “Any idea what caused it?”

She watched as he dumped his wallet and keys on the entry table. 
This is it,
she thought. 
Here’s your chance.  Tell him about the baby.

Their eyes met.  She took a deep breath.  Then chickened out.  “My mother got her own place,” she said slowly.  “I can move back to my apartment this weekend.”

His nostrils flared and a muscle twitched along his jaw.  The silenced lengthened.  Finally, he said, “That’s it?  That’s all you have to say?”

“I thought you’d be relieved.”

“Has it really been so bad, living here with me?”

That stopped her.  This was uncharted territory, bordering on discussion of their relationship.  A discussion she had scrupulously avoided, even when she’d periodically agonized over it on her own.  The fear of turning into one of those clingy pathetic females—or worse yet, a passive-aggressive bitter woman like her mother had been most of her adult life—had kept her from asking Marc even mundane questions, like “When will you be home?”  Thankfully, he’d always volunteered the information, curtailing any need on her part to either ask or worry.

Mutely, she shook her head.  “I’m grateful—”

His explosion took her by surprise.  “You’re leaving me, and that’s all you have to say?  You’re grateful?”  Hands clamped with almost bruising force on her upper arms as he lifted her until she was balanced on her toes.  His mouth crashed down on hers.   The moment her lips parted, his tongue invaded, insistent, relentless, ravaging her mouth.  Her pulse skittered out of control.  Black spots danced across her vision.

She wasn’t sure when his hold gentled.  But at some point the hands that kept her prisoner loosened and drifted down her sides, running lightly over her waist, cupping her bottom, kneading her flesh through the thin barrier of her dress and panties.  Little sparks of pleasure flared wherever their bodies touched.  Liquid heat bloomed between her legs.

A groan vibrated through his chest.  His mouth lifted slightly.  “Don’t go,” he said, harsh breaths fanning across her skin.  “Stay with me.”

She buried her hands in his hair, silky strands sliding through her fingers.  “I need some space.”

“I’ll give you space.  Whatever you need.”  He licked and nibbled his way toward the frantically beating pulse point just beneath her jaw.  “Don’t leave me.”

She shuddered.  Fear and desire warred within her.  “Marc.”

His palms squeezed, bringing her up closer, the hard contours of his arousal pressing against her stomach.  “Please.” 

She wasn’t sure any more what he was asking.  All thought, all resistance, melted in the fire that licked through her veins.  They stumbled toward the bedroom, shedding pieces of clothing along the way.   Together, they toppled onto the bed, landing in an awkward sprawl of naked limbs, Marc half-covering her, the hair on his chest abrading her sensitive nipples.  He settled between her legs, erection nudging at her damp folds.  His hands pressed against hers on either side of her head, palm against heated palm, their fingers entwining. 

“Mine,” he breathed, just before he entered her.

The shock of his bare flesh invading her, filling her, stretching her, without the usual latex barrier, forced a moan from her throat.  He paused momentarily, allowing her to adjust, before lifting and plunging deeper, faster.  She met him stroke for stroke, heart hammering, lungs burning. 

“Stay with me,” he panted. 

She arched up as the first spasm hit, sending ripples of sensation out from her core until it seemed as if her whole body was awash in pleasure.   His fingers tightened.  A guttural moan spilled from his lips as he ground his pelvis into hers again and again, before finally shuddering and collapsing on top of her.

For several long minutes they didn’t move.  Sweat cooled on her skin.  Eventually, she shifted beneath him.  “I can’t breathe.”

He rolled off to the side, relieving her of his weight.  

She took a deep breath, then tugged the edge of the top sheet from under the mattress, and slid beneath the cover.  Despite the layer of Egyptian cotton, she felt completely exposed under his gaze.  Unable to stand the silence, she said, “You didn’t use anything.” 

He eased closer and propped his head up on his palm, elbow resting on the mattress just inches away from her.  “Did I need to?”  His free hand settled on her belly, stroking lightly.  She might as well have been naked for all the protection the sheet afforded. 

Unease s
li
d through her.  “You know?”

His fingers continued to trace slow mesmerizing patterns over her still-flat abdomen.  “When were you planning on telling me, Kate?”

She swallowed.  “I don’t know.  Eventually.  I’ve barely gotten used to the idea myself.”  She hesitated, trying to gauge his mood.  “You’re not mad?”