The Hometown Hero Returns (13 page)

“I think you know the answer to that.” He slid his hands along her water-lubricated skin. He felt her go still as he traced the beguiling swells of her hips and the
indentation of her waist and then her heaving ribcage. “Do you recall how you told me not to come on so strong during this visit, Mari?”

“Yes,” she replied, her eyes glued to his mouth. She gasped softly when he shifted his hands so that his forefingers were just below the fullness of her breasts and his palms cradled her ribcage. He felt her heart beating into his palms, rapid and strong.

“If you kissed me right now,” he murmured. “I wouldn't be breaking any rules.”

“Well, I'd hate to be the one to turn you to truancy.”

He held his breath as she slowly leaned forward. She very carefully kissed the drops of moisture off his lips one by one, and then rose to do the same for his nose. He closed his eyelids when she transferred her attention there, her quick, elusive caresses creating a riot of sensation in his body. By the time she'd dried his whole face with her sweet, seeking lips, he was starting to hurt with desire.

Her mouth settled on his. He could just as easily have single-handedly stopped the rotation of the earth than prevented himself from transferring his hands to her upper arms and sliding her closer to him. He gave himself twenty seconds to drown in the taste of her, twenty seconds to show her how much he wanted her, twenty seconds to glory in the fact that her hunger seemed every bit a match for his.

She whimpered softly when he sealed their kiss and moved away from her.

“I think I'll do a lap or three dozen,” he muttered before he plunged into the water. He tried to banish Mari's dazed expression and flushed cheeks from his mind's eye as he set a hard, brisk pace for himself, but it didn't really work.

Not in the slightest.

Slightly winded from his swim, he finally rose from the pool. Mari glanced up from her magazine. He gave her a reassuring smile when he saw her uncertain look. The last thing he'd meant to do was make her feel guilty. He was the one who'd asked for it, and, given the same circumstances, he'd gladly suffer his momentary discomfort again just to feel her supple body gliding next to his and her lips caressing every inch of his face.

“Do you mind if I look over a couple things in the shade?” he asked, pointing toward his briefcase beneath the umbrella.

“No, of course not,” she assured.

He dried off and settled himself for the next forty minutes, going through his phone messages and making a priority list for things that needed to get done in the next few days. He was proud of himself for staying on task with the alluring distraction of Mari reclining just feet away in a sexy bikini.

Everything was going great until she pulled some suntan lotion out of her bag and started smoothing the emollient onto her long legs. Like a bee drawn to honey, he rose slowly from his seat at the shaded table and walked toward her.

“You need any help with that?” he asked as he plopped down into the recliner next to her.

“I think I can manage.”

He didn't reply as he watched her work the lotion into her thighs. She glanced over at him as she poured some more into her palm.

“I thought you were working,” she said with a touch of asperity.

He studied every detail of her hands smoothing over her belly.

“I was. I'm not anymore. You have beautiful arms,” he said distractedly.

Mari snorted. “Thanks. I don't think I've ever received that particular compliment before.”

He smiled and just continued to watch her. He might have looked relaxed to a casual observer, but in fact, his body was tensed like an animal's ready to spring. Why wouldn't anyone tell her she had gorgeous arms? They were like sensual poetry, the way they gleamed in the summer sun, the way she moved them. Why hadn't he told her before?

He sat up when she reached her shoulders.

“Here,” he said, reaching for the bottle. “You're going to get it on your new suit.”

She glanced at him doubtfully but released the lotion, nevertheless.

“Lean back,” he encouraged as he transferred positions so that he was sitting beside her on her recliner. “It's best to be in the exact spot where you're going to lay when you put the stuff on, or else you take the risk of missing the exposed parts.”

“You sound like quite the expert on suntan lotion application,” Mari said sarcastically as she reclined in the chair.

Marc poured some of the warm liquid in his palm. “Well, I don't want to brag or anything…”

Mari rolled her eyes, but he sensed her focused attention as he carefully began to rub the emollient onto her shoulder, careful not to stain the fabric of her suit.

“You really take this seriously. You'd think you were doing surgery,” Mari murmured as she watched him work the lotion into her skin along the line of the suit.

“I'm a perfectionist,” he said in a deadpan tone.

She laughed. The smile remained on her mouth while he did her other shoulder. It faded when he squeezed
more lotion in one hand and started matter-of-factly working it into the exposed skin in the V of her halter top. From the periphery of his vision, he saw her mouth open to protest, but he just continued rubbing the lotion over the top of a breast with two fingers, sliding and circling over firm, curving flesh. He leaned down farther, taking his time and true to his word, completing the task with meticulous attention to detail.

It was with great disappointment that he finished covering the last, tiny patch of satiny-smooth skin between her breasts at the very bottom of the V. He straightened and screwed the cap on the bottle.

“There. Not a drop on your new suit,” he said as he handed the lotion back to her.

He paused when he finally glanced up into Mari's face. Her cheeks had turned pink. Her lips were parted as she panted shallowly.

He'd been so absorbed in the erotic task of putting lotion on the upper and inner swells of Mari's breasts he hadn't really noticed the effect he was having on her. He opened his mouth to apologize, but wouldn't that be a bit disingenuous? Was he
really
sorry?

“I think I'll go take another swim.”

She didn't reply as she watched him stand. He hoped she wasn't angry at him, but Christ… How much temptation could a man take?

You're making a lot of selfish excuses,
he remonstrated with himself as he sliced through the water. Mari meant a lot more to him than sex. A hell of a lot more. She'd made a point of saying she wanted to see if there was a chance for them beyond their obvious sexual chemistry. She'd said she didn't want to be pushed. And look at how he was behaving. He couldn't help but recall that both Mari and his mother had made a point of saying he always got what he wanted. Was this the kind of
thing they were referring to? He wanted Mari—a hell of a lot—and he couldn't seem to stop himself from touching her, no matter what the circumstances.

The thought sobered him.

He did a racer's flip and soared in the opposite direction.

Problem was, his sexual attraction for Mari was all tied up with a ton of other feelings. It was as easy to turn off his physical desire for her as it was to disengage from his emotional attachment.

But he was going to have to try, if this was going to work. He was going to have to try
harder.
He'd never forgive himself if he got to the end of this weekend and had to live with himself for blowing things with the only woman in the world who mattered.

 

Mari was feeling exceptionally sleepy by the time they packed up their things and headed back down the elevator to Marc's condominium. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was because she'd slept only a few hours last night.

Or maybe it was the fact that she was pregnant.

Whatever the case, Marc took one look at her once they'd walked into his cool, quiet living room and suggested she go take a nap. She was so pleasantly groggy that she didn't argue, but wandered back to the guest bedroom, shut the door and fell asleep almost instantly on the bed.

She awoke later, turned over and saw muted evening light seeping around the blinds.

Thank goodness. She hadn't slept for too long. It would have made her sad to think she'd wasted this rare opportunity with Marc by sleeping away a good chunk of time.

She sprung out of bed, completely refreshed.
Pregnancy seemed to have the effect of making her feel either as wrung out as a limp dishrag or energized, as if she could take on the world…maybe even Marc Kavanaugh.

While she showered, she recalled in vivid detail laying there on that deck chair and watching the intent focus on Marc's face while he slowly, carefully drew little gliding circles over the tops of her breasts. Heat rushed through her body and she turned down the hot water a tad. Mari wasn't sure if it was just Marc's effortless sexuality or the fact that her own body was extra sensitive—perhaps because of the pregnancy—but she'd never known she possessed quite so many erogenous zones.

After her shower, she took time and care with her appearance, wanting to look her best. She styled her hair and applied her make-up sparingly—she didn't need much, thanks to her good color from spending the afternoon in the sun. She dressed in a sleeveless, coral chiffon dress she favored because it worked for everything from a casual evening at home to dinner or cocktails out. The chiffon fabric twisted just beneath the V-neck and followed the same tan line as the suit she'd worn today. Her eyebrows went up when she inspected herself in the dress. Maybe her stomach wasn't starting to protrude, but her breasts definitely looked fuller than usual beneath the soft fabric.

She finished off the outfit with gold hoop earrings, a wrist cuff, sandals and then completed her preparation with a spritz of her favorite perfume. Her heart sank a little in disappointment when she entered the large living/dining room area and didn't see Marc anywhere. Had he thought she was going to sleep through the night, and left to run some errands? No—it looked as if he'd
set the dining room table for two. In the distance, she heard a shower running in the master bath.

She smiled as she perused his bookcases in the living room. She was glad they were staying in for the evening.

One could always learn so much about a person from their books. Marc's shelves were filled with everything from autobiographies and biographies to historical books and popular thrillers. She pulled out one of three unlabeled black books and murmured happily when she realized it was a photo album of Marc's younger years.

She sat in the corner of the couch and began leafing through the album. Derry Kavanaugh's face leaped out at her from one photo. It was a rare family shot of the whole Kavanaugh family on one of the Harbor Town white beaches. One single moment of happiness had been captured for eternity, Mari thought as she brushed a finger across Marc's adolescent face. Derry's hair was a mixture of gold and gray, and his handsome, smiling face made him look as if he didn't know the meaning of sorrow. The photo had caught Brigit Kavanaugh staring at her husband, love softening her features.

She felt a bond with Brigit in that moment. They were both grown women who had fallen in love with charismatic Kavanaugh men. They had both lost those men in different ways.

If Brigit had a second chance with Derry Kavanaugh, would she take it? She took another look at a Brigit's loving expression as she stared at her husband and had her answer.

Her heart felt a little heavy or full—Mari couldn't decide which—when she turned the page. For a few seconds, she just stared. After a moment, she carefully picked up the wax-paper envelope with the two flowers that had been dried and preserved—the daisy and the
iris. She saw the words Marc had quoted back to her written in Brigit's slanted, clear hand—
Mari's favorites. Sun and shade.
The envelope had been placed beneath a photo of her and Marc standing in the Kavanaugh backyard, Marc's arm around her, both of them grinning broadly, sunburned and flushed with first love. She must have been about sixteen, Marc nineteen.

“I took it when I found it at Mom's.”

Mari glanced up at the sound of Marc's gruff voice. Through the film of tears over her eyes, she saw that his hair was still damp and that he wore a pair of jeans and a casual blue cotton button-down shirt. She must have had a slightly bewildered expression on her face because he seemed to find it necessary to clarify.

“The flowers, I mean. I figured…you know.”

“What?” Mari asked when he didn't finish.

“I figured they belonged here with me.”

For several seconds, neither of them spoke.

“I didn't really have anything of yours after you left,” Marc explained. “Except for photos.” He inhaled and glanced out the windows to the lake in the distance. “Truth be told, I sort of stole it from Mom. I didn't want to have to deal with her questions if I asked for permission for them.”

“When did you take them?” Mari asked in a hushed voice.

Marc met her gaze again. “One weekend…after the Palmer House.”

Mari swallowed and carefully replaced the dried flowers in the book. She stood and slid the photo album back into its place on the shelf. When she turned, she saw him examining her appearance.

“You look gorgeous. You dressed up. I ordered in some food for us, but we can go out if you like.”

“No,” she said quickly. “I'm glad you planned to stay in.”

His grin caused something to hitch in her chest. “I'll take you for dinner tomorrow night. Some place nice. Tonight, I ordered in from a favorite restaurant—French Vietnamese cuisine. They already delivered. It's warming in the oven.”

“Great.”

“I have some wine chilled,” he said, pointing toward the kitchen. “I'll just…”

Mari stepped forward, halting his exit by placing her hand on his arm. He looked down at her, surprised by her abrupt movement. Standing this close, she could smell the scent of his soap and spicy cologne and could see the flecks of green in the midst of the sky-blue of his iris.