The Thawing of Mara

by Janet Dailey

  The food, for all its appetizing taste, invariably seemed to become lodged in her throat, and she was glad she had kept her portions small. Her discomfort was increased by the way her gaze kept straying to Sin's strong hands. She kept remembering how they had caressed her flesh, skillfully arousing her desire. Just thinking about it sparked a similar response.

  It was a relief when her plate was sufficiently clean that she could claim her hunger was satisfied. In truth, it had ceased to exist when Sin had entered the house.

  "Excuse me." She rose from her chair. "While you finish, I'll dish up the desert."

  "Pumpkin pie?" Adam darted her a questioning look.

  "Of course," she nodded.

  "With some whipped cream to go with it, I hope," he tacked on.

  "Yes, I still have to whip it, but it won't take long," Mara promised, and retreated to the relative security of the kitchen.

  With an electric mixer, she whipped the cream into stiff peaks. She added sugar and vanilla and whipped it again. The swinging of the kitchen door drew her gaze. Sin walked in, carrying the dinner plates.

  "Clearing away some of the dishes seemed the least I could do to show my appreciation for an excellent meal," he said to explain his action.

  His appearance reduced her composure to chaos. She riveted her attention on the bowl of whipping cream and the beaters whirring in its foam.

  "Thank you," Her response was brittlly unnatural. "I'll bring the dessert in shortly."

  "I'll help you carry it in," Sin volunteered, walking to the counter where she was working.

  The pie was already sliced, individual pieces on the dessert plates. All that was left to do was add a generous spoonful of whipped cream to each piece. As Sin paused beside Mara to watch her finish beating it, her sensitive radar sounded the alarm at his closeness.

  "It really isn't necessary." She tried to refuse his assistance and deny his continued presence.

  "I don't mind." He dismissed her protest as nothing more than a polite gesture not to be taken seriously. "Besides, I wanted to thank you privately for asking me to have dinner with you in spite of Adam's oversight."

  "It wasn't my idea to invite you." She wanted that clear. Normally she would have whipped the cream another couple of minutes, but Sin's nearness prompted her to turn off the mixer. Under the circumstances, it was sufficiently blended.

  "I am aware who issued the invitation," he replied dryly. "At the time, I wondered if you were. But you could have vetoed it and you didn't. So, thank you."

  "You're welcome." It was a polite phrase to end the discussion.

  Trying desperately to ignore him, Mara removed the beaters from the mixer. Foamy peaks of whipped cream clung to the mixer blades. She wiped the excess from them with her forefinger, the bulk of it dropping into the bowl. Some remained on her finger.

  When she started to wipe it on a towel, a hand closed around her wrist, strong fingers overlapping her slender bones. The fingertip with the whipped cream was lifted to Sin's mouth. Her heart catapulted to beat somewhere in the region of her throat as he slowly and erotically licked the whipped cream from her finger.

  All the while, his gaze held hers. Mara felt herself drowning in the unfathomable depths of his blue eyes. She was being pulled down, down, with no hope of being rescued and no will to care.

  "Stop it, Sin," she whispered the choked plea.

  Satisfaction glinted briefly in his expression, but he didn't let go of her wrist. "Stop it, who?" He demanded that she repeat his given name.

  "Sin," Mara breathed in surrender.

  She was already swaying toward him when his mouth began its descent to her lips. An iron band encircled her waist to flatten her breasts against his chest. The hungry dominance of his kiss whetted her own appetite, and her arms curved around his broad shoulders to the hard muscles of his back.

  Sin tasted the completeness of her response and demanded more, stimulating her to a passion that left her weak at the knees. When she was utterly his to command, Sin untangled his mouth from her clinging, eager lips. Bewildered by his withdrawal, she looked up at him in confusion. Her silent appeal drew a light, totally unsatisfying kiss.

  "Adam will be wondering what's happened to the dessert," Sin offered in explanation. "We'd better take it in to him."

  Dessert? Adam? Could he possibly care about either of them? They were the farthest things from her mind at the moment. Only the realization of how openly she had revealed her emotions to Sinclair Buchanan made her withdraw from his arms.

  Her hands trembled as she tried to spoon the whipped cream onto the pumpkin pie. She felt slightly intoxicated, a warm heady glow that temporarily cushioned her against the repercussions of her response.

  When all three slices of pie had their allotted dabs of whipped cream, Sin picked up two of them, leaving Mara to carry her own into the dining room. She accompanied him into the adjoining room as if in a trance, not caring about the dessert in her hand nor wanting to eat it. It was what he expected her to do and she did it.

  "I was beginning to wonder where you were," Adam commented when they appeared. "What took so long?"

  "It was my fault." It was Sin who answered, negating the need for Mara to think of an answer. He set one of the dessert plates in front of Adam, then politely held out Mara's chair for her. His gaze briefly met hers, suggestively and intimately. "I was sampling some of the cook's wares." He glanced briefly at her mouth before he turned to smile smoothly at her father.

  Mara kept her eyes downcast to avoid the curious look Adam directed her way. She knew what "wares" Sin had sampled, and she hadn't yet recovered from the "sampling." It was a relief that the pie didn't require much effort to eat, because she was capable of expending little.

  With the dessert finished, her father leaned back in his wheelchair. His hand patted his stomach in appreciative fullness.

  "Ah, that was a delicious meal, Mara," he declared.

  "There's more pie," she offered.

  "I can't eat another bite. What about you, Sin?" Adam asked.

  "I've had enough. And it was very good, Mara, all of it." Sin, too, extended his compliments, but in her sensitive state Mara wondered if his remark held a double meaning. It was difficult to tell. Trite phrases escaped her, so she simply nodded an acceptance.

  "There is one thing I'd like," her father stated. "Coffee."

  "I've made a fresh pot. Why don't the two of you have your coffee in the living room?" Mara suggested, adding hurriedly, "That way I can clear the table without stumbling over you."

  "Have coffee with us first," Sin invited. "The dishes will wait, I'll help you with them later."

  "No." She refused his assistance in a rush, but her hasty rejection bordered on rudeness and she tried to lessen her bluntness. "Thank you, but I don't care for any coffee right now." Rising from her chair to eliminate any discussion of her decision, she began stacking the dessert plates. "Go ahead into the living room. I'll bring your coffee directly."

  As Adam rolled his chair away from the table, Mara carried the dishes into the kitchen. The kitchen door was making its pendulum swing behind her when it was pushed open. Mara glanced over he shoulder to see Sin following her with the glasses and silverware she hadn't been able to carry.

  "Thanks for bringing that in." Her words were lies. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with him again.

  "I told you I would help," Sin reminded her.

  Hurriedly Mara arranged china cups and saucers on a tray. "Good. You can carry the coffee into the living room and save me a trip." She began filling the coffee server with the freshly brewed liquid.

  "You don't need the second cup on the tray. I'm not having my coffee now," he said. "I'll have mine with you after we've cleaned everything up. Would you like me to wash or dry the dishes?"

  "Neither." Her reply was abrupt. "I'd rather do it by myself. I know where everything is and where it belongs."

  "You cooked the meal. It isn't fair that you have to clean up
the mess afterward by yourself," he argued smoothly.

  "I'm used to it. Believe me, it doesn't bother me." Not a tenth as much as you do, Mara thought.

  "It bothers me," Sin reasoned.

  "Adam would like you to have coffee with him. You're his guest," she pointed out tightly. "Please, join him in the living room. He'll enjoy your company."

  "Meaning you won't?" he questioned with faint challenge.

  "No." Mara added the sugar bowl and a spoon to the tray. Picking it up, she turned to face him, her gaze faltering under his disbelieving look. "Will you take this in or shall I?"

  "I'll take it in." Before he did, Sin removed the second cup and set it on the counter. "But I'll be back to help."

  "No." But Sin had already disappeared through the swinging door. Mara turned toward the sink with a feeling of helplessness, her teeth clenched in exasperation.

  Where was her armor? What had happened to the invisible walls that usually protected her from outside forces? They seemed to have crumbled under his onslaught. Her hands gripped the edge of the kitchen counter as she sought wildly for something that would shield her from his powerful magnetism.

  At the sound of footsteps approaching the door, Mara grabbed for the apron on a rack and tied it around her waist. She was at the sink filling it with water when Sin walked in.

  "If you're going to do the washing, that leaves me to dry," he observed. "Where are the dish towels?"

  "It's thoughtful of you to help, but I can't let you." She spoke slowly and concisely to keep her fragile control from snapping. "You're liable to get

  something on your suit and ruin it." She grasped at a straw of an excuse.

  "I'll wear an apron, as you're doing." His calm voice sounded determined to counter her every argument.

  "Don't be ridiculous!" she flashed.

  "I'm not. You are," he stated.

  "Why don't you get it through your head that I don't want you to help me?" she demanded, feeling the frayed edges of her nerves give way.

  "Why don't you stop being so damned obstinate?" He crooked a finger under her chin to turn her face to his.

  The touch was her undoing. She jerked free of it. "Don't you understand that I don't want to feel the way you're making me feel?" she stormed.

  "Why?" He studied the lights blazing in her eyes with an air of curiosity. "Because you suddenly realized you're vulnerable?"

  "I don't know. And I don't care." Mara dismissed his suggestion as unimportant. "I just want you to leave me alone."

  He released a breath of amusement. "But will you promise to leave me alone?" he challenged. "Sexual attraction is something of a common denominator. No one is completely immune to it."

  "Sex has nothing to do with it," she lied.

  "Not yet," Sin agreed.

  And Mara felt herself being drawn into the force field of a powerful magnet. "I'll buy back your lease on the cottage," she rushed. "Whatever amount you say. I don't care. I want you out of it. I want you out of my life!"

  Her voice had been rising in volume, in direct proportion to the panic racing through her veins. She had been so intent on the danger before her she didn't hear the whir ring of the wheelchair.

  Adam pushed the door to the kitchen open, frowning at the pair of them as he entered. "What's going on? You sounded as if you were shouting in here? What's the problem?"

  Mara pivoted to her father her body quaking without its usual cold control. "Get him out of here!" she ordered, pointing at Sin. "Get him out of this kitchen! Out of this house!"

  Shooting a questioning look at Sin, Adam's expression was both puzzled and concerned. "Sin, I think you'd better—"

  "I think your daughter and I ought to thrash this out in private," Sin interrupted.

  "No!" The denial exploded from Mara. "We have nothing to discuss! I don't want you here! I don't need you here!"

  "That's where you're wrong." He was an immovable object, as solid as granite.

  She glared at her father, daring him to take sides against her again as he had done in the past. His measured look took in her expression and the implacable features of Sin. He seemed distantly pleased by some secret thought.

  "Sin, it would be best if you come with me. From past experience, I can tell you that Mara's not in a mood to listen to reason." Adam turned his chair and pointed it at the door, confident that Sin would follow him.

  Sin hesitated, his flinty gaze seeming to warn Mara that she hadn't seen or heard the last of him. Half turning, he picked up the cup and saucer sitting on the counter, the one that had been on the coffee tray.

  "Adam is right." His gaze leveled on her once more before he followed her father. "Sometimes it's wiser to lose one battle in order to win the war."

  As he walked out of the room, victory tasted bitter in her mouth. She turned her back on the door and closed her eyes tightly to shut out the tears. Silent, heaving sobs racked her shoulders. Her teeth bit into her lower lip to hold back any sound. Inside, everything was in a turmoil of pain, anguish and confusion.

  All these turbulent emotions had become foreign to her. She had never indulged in such displays before, not even in the privacy of her room. She had kept these feelings locked away. Somehow Sin had acquired the combination. She felt as if he had just opened Pandora's box. Now that everything was being released, she wasn't sure she would he able to bring them under her control again.

  The feelings Sin aroused whenever he was near her or touched her were new to her. Sexual attraction, he had called it. Mara wanted no part of it under any label. She couldn't handle the havoc it created within.

  When the tempest finally subsided, Mara was weak and shaky from the storm. It took longer than usual to wash the dishes and put the kitchen back in order. Once this was accomplished, a blessed numbness enveloped her.

  With its questionable protection, she abandoned the sanctuary of the kitchen to join her father in the living room. She felt capable of confronting Sin again, unaware of the unusual pallor of her complexion or the vulnerable roundness of her eyes.

  Their conversation ended the minute she entered the room, and Sin's gaze swung leisurely to encompass her. His whole bearing was one of total relaxation, leaning back in his chair, his long legs crossed. Behind his unreadable expression, Mara had the impression of alertness.

  "Are you still here?" The numbness kept her voice fiat and indifferent despite her challenging words. "I would have thought you'd have left by now."

  "If you want some coffee, Mara," her father interceded, "I'm afraid you'll have to freshen the pot. Sin and I have pretty well emptied it."

  "You should have said something about it. I would have brought you some more," she returned smoothly.

  "Adam and I became engrossed in our conversation." There was a suggestion of a lazy drawl to Sin's voice as he watched her arrange their cups on the coffee tray with an air of detachment. "We were discussing a very interesting topic."

  "Were you?" Her reply carried no interest in their subject matter.

  "Yes, Adam and I have been talking about you and your…background."

  His statement seemed to hover in the air before its implication began to sting. "It's bad manners to talk about people when they aren't around to defend themselves," Mara reacted in bristling defense.

  "My apologies." The indolent quirk of his mouth made a mockery of his alleged sincerity. "The next time we'll make it a group therapy discussion."

  "I'm not interested in your brand of therapy," she retorted, all too conscious of the forms it might take.

  "Adam and I have come to the conclusion that you're something of a coward." Sin didn't even glance at her when he passed on the information. His attention was concentrated on the flame of his lighter licking the end of the cigarette between his lips.

  "What?" Mara's astonishment was exceeded by her anger. She stared at her father in wordless accusation.

  "It's presently only a theory," Adam offered in consolation.

  "Yes," Sin agreed. "It
hasn't been put to a hard test yet."

  A crazy hurt was beginning to spread through her, though she tried to deny that either of the two men in the room had anything to do with it.

  "I'm not interested in your theories or tests," she insisted. "Would you like some more coffee?"

  "None for me, thank you," her father refused.

  "I don't care for any, either." Sin exhaled a trail of smoke that drifted upward to obscure his features. "I know I'm repeating what I've said before, but the meal was delicious, Mara."

  "Thank you." She tried to conceal her surprise that he had allowed her to change the subject.

  "You're most welcome." There was a hint of arrogant amusement in the slight nod of his head. As Mara picked up the coffee tray to carry it to the kitchen, Sin continued, "As a matter of fact, I'd like to return your hospitality and invite you to have dinner with me on Saturday night."

  She darted him a wary look, unconsciously stiffening. "Thank you, but Adam has difficulty negotiating some obstacles. We won't be able to accept your invitation."

  "I wasn't inviting your father, only you," he corrected. Before she could voice the vigorous refusal forming on her tongue, Sin went on, "Adam has already given his permission for you to come. I talked to him about it first and convinced him that I could be trusted not to seduce his daughter."

  A heat flamed through her that wasn't sparked by anger. "I don't care whether Adam has given his permission or not. I am not having dinner with you. There would be absolutely no point to it."

  As Mara started toward the kitchen with the tray, Sin rose to his feet with a lithe swiftness and blocked her path. He seemed to tower impregnably before her, too broad to sidestep.

  "You're forgetting one point. There was something you wanted to discuss with me," he reminded her.

  "Oh?" Her knees threatened to buckle. "I don't recall wanting to talk to you about anything." Her air of bravado was quickly deserting her.

  "Don't you?" His eyes were half-closed against the smoke from his cigarette, but it didn't lessen their sharpness. "It was something to do with the cottage and when I would be leaving it."

  Her gaze fell under the dominance of his. "Yes, well, it's a discussion that doesn't have to take place over dinner. In fact it should take place here, not at the cottage."