Ivy Entwined

by Laura Simcox

“Marcus, please,” she whispered, pressing her back into the soft flannel sheets and shifting restlessly.

  He knelt in front of her and yanked at her snow boots. They flew across the room and thumped against the closet door. With another tug, her pants were gone, and she parted her legs and lifted her hips, inviting him in. His palms ran up the sides of her calves and her thighs before he grabbed her hips, jerking her toward the edge of the bed, where she lay exposed and desperate for his fullness.

  Through half-closed lids, she watched as he guided himself forward and then entered her, pushing slowly. Her mouth dropped open, and she laid her hands flat on the bed as he imbedded himself in her heat.

  Leaning forward, he dragged her to him, his mouth closing over a nipple briefly before running his tongue up to suck on an earlobe. As she dug her fingers into his back, he increased the pace, burying his head in her shoulder. Her ankles locked in place behind his waist, rocking against him.

  Nothing existed but this. This connection, this perfect heat between them. He shifted his hips and drove faster, his breath thick and hot against the skin of her neck. She moaned, spiraling higher and higher, and then she came, bucking against him and stiffening in his arms. He groaned into her neck, long and low, and pushed her back against the sheets before collapsing across her body.

  For a minute, they lay there just breathing, short panting gasps the only sound in the room.

  Marcus lifted his head and she opened her eyes to find him staring at her. Her breath stopped, and she stared back, a feeling so sweet and tender stealing over her that she couldn’t move. He kissed her then, softly.

  “Ivy,” he whispered.

  “Yes?”

  “You captivate me.”

  She gazed at him, and words tumbled in her head. He captivated her too. He drove her crazy. He filled her with lust and anger and a swelling feeling of pure happiness that she couldn’t quite name.

  “I…I’m overwhelmed,” she said, “by you.” At least it was honest.

  Marcus smiled slowly and caressed her cheek. “Come here.” He braced himself on his hands and pulled out of her gently, moving toward the pillows. She rolled to her side and crawled up next to him, resting her face on his firm chest. He flipped the quilt over their bodies and held her. Neither of them spoke.

  A minute later, Ivy heard a rustling near the window, and she lifted her head.

  Breezy sat like a queen on top of the dresser, her tail curled neatly over her paws. She stared at Ivy, her reproachful yellow eyes unblinking. “Meow.”

  Ivy smiled. “Hi, baby.”

  Breezy leaped down from the dresser and landed with a cat grunt on the carpet. “Meow.”

  Ivy patted the bed next to her. “Come here.”

  But Breezy ignored her. Instead, she jumped onto the foot of the bed, walked across the edge and up the opposite side to Marcus, where she plopped into the crook of his arm and licked her paw.

  Ivy sat up and looked between the cat and Marcus. “What a traitor.”

  Marcus grinned, his chest shaking with a silent laugh. “You mean Breezy, or me?”

  Shaking her head, Ivy gathered the covers over her breasts. “I don’t want to go there right now.”

  He reached up and pulled her in for a kiss. “I don’t either,” he murmured, gently pushing the cat off the bed and hauling Ivy on top of him. “Let’s just be here.”

  Right as she closed her eyes and began to kiss his strong neck, Gramma’s voice pierced the quiet house.

  “Ivy, honey! Where are you? I didn’t realize you were coming over.”

  “Oh, fuck me!” Ivy yanked herself away from Marcus and scrambled off the bed, scanning the room for her clothing.

  “It would be my pleasure,” Marcus said.

  “Oh my God,” she hissed. “Help me!” She grabbed her shirt and pants and located one boot. “Where the hell are my panties?”

  Marcus reached out and snatched her jeans, peeling her panties away from them. “Here.” He stood up and grabbed a pair of his own pants from a pile in a laundry basket and slid into them. He bent to the floor to grab her bra.

  “I thought you said they went shopping,” she muttered.

  He shrugged a shoulder. “They didn’t say where. Maybe they just went to the grocery store.”

  She groaned. “Well if I had known that—”

  “Ivy?” Delia’s voice floated up. “Are you upstairs?”

  “I hope not,” Brian said gruffly. His voice came from the living room.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” Ivy said under her breath. She found the other boot and whirled around just as Marcus draped the quilt over her shoulders and handed her the bra.

  “Think I’ll make it to the bathroom?” she asked breathlessly.

  He nodded. “I’ll cover you.”

  She tiptoed out of the room and darted down the hall to the bathroom, wincing as the door creaked when she closed it. Quickly, she dressed, straining to hear as Marcus’s voice rumbled in the hall.

  “She’s up here, Delia. Stopped by to grab something,” Marcus called. “Hair dryer, I think?”

  Hair dryer? Ivy rolled her eyes. That was a lame excuse. Wait. She glanced in the mirror. The ends of her hair were still damp from the shower she’d taken an hour ago. Only an hour? Her whole world had shifted in that hour. Again. She sighed, slipped into her pants and sat on the edge of the tub to tug on her boots.

  “Well, tell her to come down,” Delia yelled. “We can’t get into the driveway.”

  Ivy cracked open the door as she pulled her top into place. “Be right there!”

  She reached into the cabinet under the sink and rummaged through a plastic basket of curling irons and hair dryers. She grabbed one and gave her reflection a final look, whisking her hand over her hair. Taking a calming breath, she slipped into the hallway and glanced at Marcus.

  He stood just outside her bedroom door, barefoot, but his jeans were buttoned and he wore a T-shirt. “Find it?”

  “Yeah.” She held up the bright orange monster of a hair dryer and gave him a small smile.

  “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow night, then.” He smiled back.

  “What’s tomorrow night?”

  In the living room, Colleen let out a gasp. “Ivy! It’s my Awful Christmas Sweater party. Don’t even think of backing out.”

  Ivy trotted down the steps. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Gramma.”

  Colleen gave her an evil eye. “Better not. Besides, we’re taking a special shopping trip tomorrow. I’m going to find Marcus and your father the ugliest fucking sweaters I can get my old hands on. You in?”

  Ivy laughed. “I’m so in.” And she meant it. She welcomed the distraction because, for a few hours, she wouldn’t have to think about her and Marcus. Or the land. Or the Megamart. Or the bakery. Or anything that made her want to scream.

  …

  Colleen let out an exasperated sigh. “Delia, for God’s sake! You drive like an old woman. We won’t get to Syracuse until dinnertime at this pace. Pull over and let me at it.”

  Ivy suppressed a snort and glanced sideways at her mother. Delia’s face was a blank mask, and she hummed under her breath. Uh-oh. Already pissed and they were only twenty miles outside of Celebration. That didn’t bode well for a Christmas shopping extravaganza.

  Ivy cleared her throat. “Gramma, relax. We have all day to shop, and Mom is just being careful since the snowplows are out working this morning.” She twisted to the side and leaned over the front seat to widen her eyes at her grandmother, who sat in the back applying yet another coat of bright red lipstick.

  At Ivy’s silent plea to be quiet, Colleen rolled her eyes and shrugged. “Never mind, Delia. I don’t feel like driving today. You just go ahead.” She threw the lipstick in her glittery purse and picked up her iPad. She turned it on and began flicking the screen with nails that matched the color of her lips. “Already did most of my shopping from right here anyway,” she mumbled.

  “Well, you’re stuck with me driving si
nce Marcus weaseled out of joining us,” said Delia.

  “He’s good at that,” Ivy commented before she could stop herself.

  “I’ll bet that’s not all he’s good at,” her grandmother murmured.

  Ivy gave her a small smile and turned around to settle deeper into the leather seat of her mom’s minivan. She let her eyelids flutter shut. Rest hadn’t come easy the past couple of weeks and a chance for a catnap could not be wasted. But of course, the image of Marcus’s face appeared in her mind to taunt her, just like every other time she closed her eyes. But this time, the expression of utter longing on his face as he’d looked at her lying in her old bed in her parents’ house yesterday morning haunted her. He’d looked as if he was about to tell her that he loved her.

  And this morning, when she’d woken up in her new bed in her own house, the realization that she actually wanted him to say it had hit her like a semitruck. She’d gone and fallen in love with him, despite all the deceit between them when it came to Celebration. For the foreseeable future, she had to deal with it under the radar, too, keeping up the pretense of a calm, confident mayor. She hadn’t done anything to deserve this hell except fall for the devil, but she was burning in it anyway.

  Maybe it was just infatuation, or maybe she was confusing lust with actual love. She wanted that to be the case, but if it was then why did she feel like without him in her life she would be an empty shell? Why did he make her feel so alive, so challenged and appreciated? Ugh. What a fucked-up mess. At least she’d done one thing right this morning. It was the best decision she’d made all day telling Marcus not to come ugly-sweater hunting.

  There was a cough from the backseat, and Ivy turned around, watching as her grandmother slipped the seat-belt strap off her shoulder and leaned forward. “What are you buying Marcus for Christmas?”

  “Uh, maybe a tie,” said Ivy in a casual tone.

  “A fucking tie? How boring,” Colleen responded.

  Delia sighed. “Ivy, I have to agree with your grandmother. A tie? For your first Christmas with Marcus? Really, why don’t you get him something more romantic?”

  Ivy inhaled a breath and just barely managed not to roll her eyes. Hell would have to freeze over before she left herself so vulnerable. She may not have stopped herself from falling in love with him, but she damned well didn’t have to twist a knife in her own back by giving him her heart on a platter.

  “Marcus and I aren’t really exchanging gifts. Trying to keep it simple.”

  Colleen clapped her hands. “I love it. Good for you. That’s fucking awesome.”

  “Thanks, Gramma.”

  Delia made a noise of distress, and Colleen clawed at the seat back until she was eye to eye with Ivy. “But if you’re keeping it simple, why are you sleeping with him? That’s complicated, if you ask me. Are you two in love or aren’t you?”

  “Let it go, Colleen,” Delia muttered.

  Ivy forced a laugh. “Okay. A tie is lame. How about I pick out his sweater for the party tonight?”

  Delia and Colleen groaned in unison.

  “Fine! How about a useless set of overpriced mini-screwdrivers?” Ivy suggested.

  “Now you’re talking. Although I doubt Marcus needs any help with that department.” Colleen nudged Ivy and raised a brow.

  “Colleen!” Delia gasped.

  “I’m just sayin’. The man has large hands, and I suspect there’s nothing ‘mini’ about him, including his…screwdriver.”

  There was silence for a moment and then all three women snorted. After another beat, they burst into laughter. The tension in the car burst apart, and Ivy gave in to a fit of giggles so violent that she had to cross her legs.

  “Oh my God, Gramma,” she said through near hiccups. “Even for you that was over the line. I might pee my pants!” Ivy reached for her purse on the floor and grabbed a tissue to blot the tears running down her cheeks. Within the jumble of items in her bright orange bag, her cell phone burped to life. And then it giggled, too. Except this giggle was the screeching, high-pitched sound of a deranged baby.

  Eyes wide, Ivy swiveled to shake a finger in her grandmother’s face. “You’ve been messing with my phone.”

  “Guilty!”

  “So who’s the lucky recipient of this appalling ringtone?” Ivy asked as she clicked on the phone. “Oh. Well, shit.”

  “Ivy! Language,” her mother warned.

  “Sorry,” Ivy muttered before she answered the call. “Hi, Preston. What do you want?”

  In the back, Colleen giggled softly.

  “Are you serious?” Ivy sat up straight and let her mouth drop open.

  “What is it?” asked Delia.

  “That is fantastic.” Ivy paused. “No, no. It’s okay. Yes. Bring it to my office first thing in the morning. No, not later. Tomorrow. Tuesday. At work. Mmmhmm. ’Bye.”

  Ivy dropped the phone back into her purse and pumped a fist into the air.

  “What is it?” Delia repeated.

  “You remember me telling you about Great Northern Novelty?” she asked.

  Delia smiled. “I thought they backed out. Are they still interested?”

  Ivy sighed. “Yes, thank God. Preston just told me that George Parker made an offer.”

  “Good,” Colleen said. “But where does that leave you and Marcus when you pull the rug out from under him?”

  Ivy swallowed. “Gramma, I…all I care about is getting people back to work. I mean, my downtown renewal is going pretty well—”

  “It’s going great. Looks better than ever down there,” interrupted Colleen.

  “Ivy, are you sure Preston has this locked up?” asked Delia, her voice wary. She glanced in the rearview mirror and put on the turn signal. “Mall exit straight ahead.”

  “No, not really, but I have to hope for the best at this point.”

  The car was silent for a minute and then Colleen spoke up again. “You never really loved him, did you, Ivy?”

  Not like I love Marcus. Not with intensity so violent it makes my heart want to burst open. Not like that.

  “Well, Gramma…No. I was younger then. I didn’t know what was right for me.”

  As the car pulled to a stop in the mall parking lot, Ivy heard her grandmother unsnap her seat belt and yawn. “Good thing you didn’t marry him. You wouldn’t have found Marcus. But now you have, so it all worked out for the best.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Ivy said with a sigh.

  “Yes, it is,” muttered Delia as she grabbed the keys and pushed open her door. She stomped around the car and helped Colleen out of the car. Reaching into the backseat, she pulled out Colleen’s walker and snapped it open. “Here you go.”

  “Oh, bother. I don’t want this fucking thing,” Colleen complained, even while she gripped the handles. She hobbled around and yanked open Ivy’s door. “You daydreaming? Thinking about Marcus?”

  Yes. And yes.

  Ivy gazed out the windshield at the sea of cars surrounding them. A couple trudged toward the entrance of the mall, their hands clasped. If only everything was so simple.

  She got out of the car and placed a kiss on her grandmother’s cheek. “Okay. I’m ready for shopping hell. How about you?”

  “I was born ready,” Colleen retorted.

  “Bring it on then.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Marcus pulled the thick, garish sweater over his head and tugged it into place before stepping in front of the mirror in Ivy’s old bedroom. He blinked for a moment, staring with horror at the neon-green sleeves and sparkly, white chest. Eight reindeer posed around a deranged-looking Santa who held Rudolph in his arms as if they had just finished a musical number. The script across the bottom read “Christmas Dances into Your Heart.”

  “Oh, hell no,” he muttered.

  Late that afternoon when Colleen had handed him a shopping bag, giggling, and said that the sweater was a masterpiece, he was wary. But he should have been terrified. Groaning, he turned and sank to the edge of th
e bed. From downstairs, the clink of glasses and laughter and the blare of holiday music crept just underneath his already frayed nerves and poked at them. He had to go down there, even though he didn’t want to.

  He wasn’t ready to face Ivy. Not until after all the paperwork for the bakery sale had been finalized. She still had no clue that he’d even bought Parliament Bakery, and he was riddled with guilt. Yeah, she had been angry that he hadn’t told her about the land deal, but that was nothing compared to the reaction this would cause. She was expecting to waltz into the town council meeting tomorrow and shoot down the Megamart with a solid offer in hand for the bakery from one of Preston’s prep-school cronies. Colleen had told him as much when the women had come back from shopping yesterday.

  Colleen was aware that he knew about Ivy’s intentions, but what the old lady wasn’t aware of was what had happened yesterday morning. Oh, she’d assumed that he and Ivy had had sex—that had been obvious—but Colleen didn’t know how that intimacy had changed him in the course of an hour. How it had brought out in the open what he already knew but didn’t want to acknowledge. He loved Ivy. He’d seen it reflected in her eyes when they’d held each other, exhausted from making love.

  Damn. He didn’t want to tell her about the bakery because there was too much up in the air. Like Preston’s involvement.

  Marcus didn’t know what Preston’s angle was by letting Ivy think that the bakery was as good as sold to a new company, but he suspected it had something to do with being jealous. Maybe he was hoping that Marcus would suggest that they sell to George Parker, but where would that leave the Megamart? Dead. Just like Ivy wanted. Just like most of the town wanted. Until his franchise was approved, that bakery had to stay stagnant. Marcus jammed his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his palms.

  He hadn’t come to Celebration to be half owner of an empty building and a field full of scrubby grass. He’d worked years to get where he was. There had been no favors along the way, and he certainly hadn’t had any family support. He’d made himself into what he was on his own, and that was a damn good businessman. And this was just business. Eventually Celebration would get over their righteous anger and accept him, regardless. Once people were working and enjoying all the benefits a Megamart could provide, they’d thank him. Maybe Ivy would, too.