A Family for Good : A sweet, small town, second chance romance (Tall Dark and Driven Book 6)

by Barbara Deleo

  “Thank god he doesn’t want anything to do with them. He sounds awful.” Liv breathed relief as she cut into the triangle of baklava. “Polly was always one to give people the benefit of the doubt, so if she wouldn’t say who he was or where he lived, I’m sure it was right that she kept the girls away from him.” She bit into the sweet and giggled as honey dribbled down her chin.

  In an instant, Markus had gathered up his serviette, leaned across the table and then gently wiped the syrup away, his gaze drilling to her core.

  “No harm will ever come to Phoebe and Zoë with me around, you can count on that,” he said, still holding her gaze rigid. And Liv dissolved at the intensity of his tone, the passion with which he held this one true thing so dear to him, and the way he looked at her with unadulterated honesty.

  “Here, let me take Phoebe so you can have your coffee,” she said, glad of the sunglasses covering her eyes so he couldn’t see the effect his comments had on her.

  “I’ll just wind her.” He carefully drew the teat from Phoebe’s mouth and put her over his shoulder. His strong hand began making circles, and Liv found herself hypnotized by the way he so gently rubbed the baby’s back.

  “How are you feeling about what I said in the car about staying?” She spoke quietly to him while staring at his hand, her mouth dry. “Do you think we can really do this?”

  She forced herself to meet his gaze, and her heart fluttered at the smile he gave her, so easy and true. He kept rubbing Phoebe’s back but held her gaze solid. “I’m in this for the long haul,” he said, his lips touching Phoebe’s cheek as he spoke. “And I can see how much you love the girls, how much you’ve done already to provide them with security. If you think you can stay for the long haul too, then I’m sure we can make it work.”

  He saw nothing more than a practical arrangement here, and Liv had to keep reminding herself of that as he sat so close, so intensely masculine but so gentle.

  She was the only one feeling the connection of old. He’d moved so far past those times that he could talk about living in the same town as her, sharing day-to-day care of the girls, without a flicker of desire.

  When she could be close to him without feeling his magnetic pull, then she’d know the future was safe for all of them.

  Markus finished winding Phoebe and handed her to Liv. “What will you tell your foster mom?” he asked suddenly. “You said she’d offered to help with the girls back home. Will she be disappointed that you’re not coming?”

  Liv’s stomach contracted. “She’ll be surprised,” she said. “I think she thought, as I did, that this was a done deal, that you’d be glad to hand the girls over to me and that I’d be back home, so it’ll be quite a shock. She’s used to family arrangements changing though.”

  “She sounds like a lovely person.”

  She took the bottle and bit her lip as she gave it to Phoebe. The little girl looked at her with those huge brown eyes, and Liv’s heart staggered with the love that filled her. “She’s raised so many foster children,” she said quietly. “I was only with her for a year but she’s still happy to be a part of my life. Of all people, she’ll understand how important it is that the girls are brought up in an environment of love and stability. But I would’ve loved for her to be part of the girls’ day-to-day lives. Your parents too.”

  In an instant, Markus had reached a hand across the table to her. “You’re giving up a lot.”

  She shook her head, banishing the tears that threatened to fall. “No, I’m not,” she said fiercely. “I’m gaining far more than I’m giving up. Pam will understand what it feels like to be swept away by the tiniest of human beings.”

  Markus looked at her, his molten chocolate eyes shining. “I think what you’re doing is amazing, Liv. I understand how hard it’s been losing Polly, finding out about the girls and having to go through all this with me. But we can cope. We can build a life for the girls based on honesty and love.”

  9

  Tiredness crunched Liv’s bones, and although she was tempted to grab forty winks, the heat of the house in the late afternoon convinced her to harvest some lavender instead.

  It had been two weeks since the doctor’s visit and the deep discussion between her and Markus. They’d put their past behind them now, and it was clear they both wanted to be real parents to the girls, so it would be the best thing all round.

  Wouldn’t it?

  Being in such physical proximity to the one man she wanted more than anything. The one man she could never have. Two sets of dark, innocent eyes stared at her in her mind and she steeled herself. Whatever feelings she did or didn’t have for Markus were irrelevant. Getting in deeper with him would only cause heartache for the girls if she and Markus split up again, and she wouldn’t let that happen.

  And besides, Markus would never have suggested a marriage of convenience if he was still in love with her. She hadn’t seen any feelings on his face or heard any in his voice. She was the only one having to rein in her emotions.

  “Petro,” she called. She wanted the housekeeper to help her find a basket, or at least a bucket, to collect the lavender. Her heart softened thinking of him. She’d become closer to the older man, who seemed to have taken a liking to her too.

  There was no reply from the garden, the laundry room, or the other wings of the house. Perhaps he’d gone to play backgammon with his friends at the local coffee shop, which he often did after his siesta.

  She went into the kitchen to clip the baby monitor to her belt and saw a letter addressed to her from her foster mom sitting in a little alcove above the counter. It wasn’t unusual to receive a handwritten letter. While she regularly FaceTimed and emailed her foster mom, Pam would often send a note saying how much she missed her and how proud she was of her. Liv had enjoyed every second at Pam’s house, but when Pam’s husband had walked out on them, it became too difficult for the fourteen year old Liv to stay.

  Apprehension prickled across her neck. Responsibility for Pam’s anticipation—her joy that Liv would finally return from living overseas and bring the girls with her—seeped from the envelope to her fingers. Now she had to tell Pam she might be staying here. But she hoped that she’d understand. She’d taken in enough foster children in the past to know the impact Liv could make in Phoebe and Zoë’s lives.

  She tore it open and almost winced as she read it. Pam was planning to transform the whole downstairs for her and the girls just as soon as she had the word. She didn’t even question what might happen if Liv didn’t bring the babies home . . .

  With shaking fingers, she replaced the letter in the envelope and sighed as the weight of Pam’s expectations landed on her. She’d tell her as soon as she could that they hadn’t decided where they’d live.

  She walked the length of the hallway, wondering where she could find the tools she needed and then, against her better judgment, knocked on the door of Markus’s office.

  “Come in,” he called from behind the heavy wooden door.

  As soon as she entered the cool room, the overpowering aroma of oranges struck her. “Wow.” She couldn’t suppress the impact the scent had on her. It was both mouthwatering and soothing, carrying with it the memory of hot summer days as a child. “Where’s that incredible smell coming from?”

  Markus turned around, away from a sink; his beautiful dark eyes were framed by tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses. “It’s orange essence. I’m working on a new flavor, but it’s not coming together as I’d like.” He took the glasses off, folded them and placed them on the counter.

  “What are those?” Liv glanced at the rows of different bottles set across a long counter and moved toward them.

  “New flavor blends I’ve been experimenting with. I’m usually not involved in this.” He waved his hand across the counter. “I’m more the numbers man, but I’ve been disappointed with the synthetic qualities of some of the oils we’ve been getting, and I want to get back to basics and use some of the recipes my grandparents used. Spending the
next few weeks at home while the girls get settled provides the perfect opportunity.”

  “Perhaps you should try making your own essences.” She reached out and touched one of the bottles.

  “I have been in the last few days.” He grinned as he walked to a cupboard and then opened it. A little bubble of sunshine rose within her. Some of his old passion was back, his enthusiasm for tastes and smells.

  “You were always the scent person. I’d like your opinion on something.”

  He pulled out a stack of cardboard boxes and placed them on the counter. “Have you ever tasted loukoumi—Turkish delight?”

  Liv grinned. “Not the authentic stuff, I’m sure. We have chocolate-covered Turkish delight at home.”

  Markus slammed a hand over his heart in mock outrage. “Definitely not the authentic stuff. Our business has been around for more than a hundred years, and we’ve never covered it in chocolate. Take a seat.” He chuckled and the bubble within her grew.

  She perched on a high stool and watched, intrigued, as he removed a lid. “Now close your eyes,” he said.

  “Why?” Liv grinned. “Is it particularly unattractive food? Like boiled brussels sprouts or something?”

  The side of his smile kicked up further. “Just close your eyes. I want you to tell me what flavors you can taste so I know whether I’ve got the intensity right. They’re made with my new essences, and I’m hoping they’ll speak for themselves.” Something smoldered low in her.

  He met her gaze, something sparkling in his. “Shut. Your. Eyes.”

  Liv grinned back and did as she was told, a small thrill working its way up her spine at the sensual image of being in this small office with Markus and boxes and boxes of sweets. And his smile . . .

  “Now, open up.”

  The warmth of his hand came closer to her face, and despite the strong aroma of the sweet in his hand, she could smell him—the spicy, musky, sensual Markus she knew so well. She squirmed.

  Then his fingers were at her lips. Fingers that knew the touch of her skin. Fingers that had traced the lines of her body were now tempting her to open her lips for him. And she did.

  She sighed, not because of the velvet sweetness that melted on her tongue, but because she was so close to him again. The air around her moved and pulsed with his essence.

  Until now, every time he’d got close it was as if she were being teased, her old longings provoked. But now a thirst was about to be quenched and she could almost feel the release.

  And then his hand was gone.

  But as the sweet dissolved on her tongue—the tangy bite of orange combined with the tiniest hint of mint and the rich, sweet edge of sugar—he was still there, so close that if she reached out a hand, she might touch him. Might feel his need for her without having to look in his eyes.

  “Can I open?” she finally managed.

  His voice was lighter. “Of course.”

  She opened her eyes, and he was less than a foot away, with his shoulders square and proud and his gaze burning into her own. The words he’d said in the car whispered in her ears. I would’ve fought for you. I would’ve fought for you. She said the first thing that came into her head. “Gorgeous.”

  He rolled his eyes. “What do you mean gorgeous? How’s the balance of flavor, the length of taste?”

  He had no idea what she was really talking about, no understanding that her words were for him. And she should keep it that way.

  But all she could think about was the warmth in her stomach and the length of longing inside her.

  The wish that things hadn’t changed as much as they had.

  “It’s exquisite,” she said honestly, as she crushed the desire for him that burned in every cell. “I’ve never tasted anything like it. It reminds me of one of the orange cordials Pam’s mother made on a hot afternoon. Just oranges, oranges and more oranges.”

  “And . . .?” His eyes were wide, expectant. And yet the heat beneath the expectancy made her heart pound and her body clench.

  “And I noticed the tiniest hint of . . . mint?” How she wished he’d keep looking at her like this forever. If only she could harness this togetherness and keep it close to her heart.

  He slapped a hand on the bench making her jump. “Yes! I knew you’d pick it up. It’s so subtle most people wouldn’t recognize it, but it adds a layer. I knew you’d be able to sense it.”

  The familiarity of his comment made her want to reach out, but instead she slipped from the stool. She was filled with a sudden, desperate fear that if she stayed in here any longer, she wouldn’t be responsible for her actions. She mustn’t start something she couldn’t finish. She’d spent the last few weeks telling him how responsible she was now, how she’d put the needs of the girls first, and that’s exactly what she’d do. “It’s beautiful, Markus. A winner . . .” She edged toward the door, while at the same time running her clammy palms down her shorts.

  “What are you doing?” His brow lowered.

  “I’m going out to collect lavender to make lavender water for the girls. They’ll wake for their next feed in a little while, and I want to get this done.” She tried to make her voice light. Tried but failed. The unlocked desire pounding in her veins made every word agony. Could he hear it? Feel it?

  His voice was teasingly firm. “No, you don’t. I have three more flavors I need you to try.”

  It was impossible; she couldn’t go through this exquisite torture any more. “You don’t need me to know how wonderful your sweets are. You said you’d lost your sense for things, but those flavors are sublime.”

  “I do need you,” he said as he turned back to the bench and began opening another box. For a crazy minute, Liv thought he might finish the sentence the way she hoped, that after everything they’d been through, he still needed her. That he wanted her to stay here for more than just convenience, more than just to be a mother to the girls.

  “My awareness of taste has improved in the last week or so and . . .” He turned around. “It feels . . . right.”

  His eyes sparked with veiled meaning. Whether he was speaking about the Turkish delight, or being with her, Liv didn’t know; all she knew was that being here with Markus again felt dangerously good.

  Deep inside, the love for him she’d kept shrouded and shut away, came struggling from its confines and sent rays of light throughout her whole body. Powerless to stop it, she let her gaze stay locked on his and savored the moment. One minute of feeding her need couldn’t hurt . . .

  He spoke low, teasingly. “I’m not finished with you yet. Sit down.”

  Dumb with want and paralyzed with possibility, Liv eased herself back onto the stool, all the while imprisoned by his stare.

  “Eyes closed.”

  Clasping her damp palms together and willing the tremor in her limbs to cease, she opened her mouth and felt the sweetness once more, before she again felt him step away. Opening her eyes, she found his gaze still fixed on hers, with something dark and suggestive tinting the edge of his dark cocoa irises.

  “Oh,” she said, among the silken sweetness. “Oh, lemon, the most beautiful lemon . . . and are the nuts . . . pistachio?”

  His grin broadened, then he reached out a hand to her face. “You have sugar on your chin.”

  Gently, his fingers stroked her skin, and the sweetness in her mouth melded with the sweetness of his touch and she couldn’t stop herself leaning into it. It might only be a hand, but the beating heat, the sure and solid strength of it, reminded her of the feel of his entire body and the promise of what he could do to her.

  His finger stroked away the loose powdered sugar and then deftly moved higher up her cheek and slowly, oh so slowly, down to her neck.

  Liv dropped her eyes, fearful that if she looked into his face, she might not find the emotion she wanted to see. It had been so long since he’d touched her that she couldn’t tell if this was the connection of an old acquaintance or the rekindled caress of a lover.

  Ignoring the rational par
t of herself, the part that said this shouldn’t be happening, she leaned her head so the whole of her cheek was in his palm, and she absorbed the familiar connection, the wonderful feel of him, as her heart reached overdrive.

  Then he stepped closer and slowly ran his finger across her lips. “And there’s more sugar here,” he said, his voice sexy-low. Liv couldn’t stop herself from tilting her head to meet his heated gaze.

  With the care of someone opening an unexpected gift, Markus bent his head and brushed his lips across hers, at first with the slightest pause and then more firmly, definitely, as if his lips were claiming their rightful place.

  In reflex, Liv parted her mouth, hungry for the intimate connection, the familiar strength and warmth, that her body knew so well. But there was so much more than she’d expected. This wasn’t the kiss of familiar lovers or old and comfortable friends. This kiss held the heat of an oxygen-hungry fire, locked down too tight and for far too long.

  Running his tongue along her bottom lip, Markus pulled her closer; his palms were firm on her shoulders as she leaned in and let out a moan.

  Her senses were invaded in one overwhelming minute by the taste, the smell, the feel of his strong, tight body under her searching fingers. It was as if they’d never been apart, as if his essence had been so burned into her all those years ago that her deepest memory had never forgotten.

  The kiss deepened and Liv’s head spun as something worked its way around her throat. The tight squeeze of sadness that she’d had to give all this up became more and more pronounced as she found herself falling deep into Markus once more.

  “Liv, Liv.” He pulled away to breathe then trailed kisses down her cheek to the hollow of her neck.

  The sweet, heavy tightness in her throat blocked all words as she held him closer. The ecstasy of his breath against her skin was overpowering, and she willed this moment to last forever, knowing the second they pulled away they’d have to realize this was a terrible mistake.