As their swells of pleasure tapered off, he leaned forward and dotted her mouth with baby kisses. “That was wonderful.”
“It was.”
He gently slid off her, taking the outside of the couch again, holding her close to him.
She rested her cheek against his chest and listened to his heart, still beating rapidly. His skin felt hot and moist. He smelled sexy, she thought.
They caught their breath in silence. Overwhelmed by this sudden development in their relationship, she didn’t quite know what to say. She hadn’t expected to have sex with him today or at any time in the near future. Her thoughts hadn’t even progressed to that point. She wasn’t sorry about their intimacy--it had been too fantastic to regret--but she wished she had made the decision with her head about her instead of on the spur of the moment.
He stayed quiet, too, but he snuggled close to her. His nearness reassured her. She took it to mean that he didn’t regret their actions either--at least, not yet. He may well have been having similar thoughts to hers. Given his unhealed wounds over his ex, he couldn’t have seen this coming.
Her gaze wandered to the bookcase that housed the secret entrance, and she remembered the ghost. A flutter of uneasiness shivered through her.
“Are you cold?” Mark asked. “Maybe we need a blanket.”
“No. I’m okay.” She hesitated but decided to voice her concerns. “I was just thinking about the ghost again. All this between us happened so suddenly...”
“Not really. When you think about it, this has been building up for a while. It seems like a natural progression to me. Don’t you think so?”
She reflected on how her feelings for him had evolved since they’d first met. Their conversations and his writing had influenced her changing views. The course of events did feel natural. She’d come to know him over the last week or so. That was all. “I guess so.”
“I’ll tell you what.” He lifted her chin to tilt her face up toward his. “Why don’t we go out somewhere tomorrow, away from both your place and mine? Then we can see how we feel about everything away from this charged atmosphere.”
She nodded slowly, a sense of relief spreading through her. “I like that idea. Did you have something in mind?”
“How about a ride into the countryside--maybe up toward the mountains? I know a little historic village with some nice shops, including a candy store that sells homemade chocolates. There’s a beautiful old inn that serves great tavern fare. We could have dinner there.”
“Sounds perfect.” She let her head drop back on his chest. Closing her eyes, she gave in to the magic of the moment. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so much at peace. She belonged here in Mark’s arms.
A tiny voice in the back of her mind reminded her she’d vowed to be cautious about the relationship. Mark may have brought up tomorrow, but what would happen beyond that?
As happy as she felt, she tried to dismiss the thought. A person could always find time for worry and speculation, but moments like this didn’t come often.
Chapter 15
Making love to Lara had blown Mark away. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so in sync with a lover. In the aftermath he still felt strongly connected to her, as though she were a part of him.
He wanted her to stay that way.
She fell asleep in his arms, warm and trusting. Her soft, shallow breathing made her seem vulnerable. He felt an overpowering urge to protect her--not that she wasn’t strong on her own, but her life must have been hard this past year, going through a divorce. Now he wanted to take care of her. He only hoped he could give her what she needed.
For a moment the idea scared him. What did she need?
Support of her art and her ideas, he supposed--and that would come easily enough. Besides, he would learn more about her and find out what made her happy. There was nothing to be afraid of. In fact he couldn’t wait to get started...though at the moment, sleep did seem a welcome second choice.
He drifted off not long after her.
Hours later he woke to find her stirring beside him. Dusk had fallen, and the room had grown shadowy. Feeling chilly, the two of them snuggled up to one another. They had a belated discussion about contraception, and he was relieved to learn that she’d been taking the Pill. Without grilling each other on their sexual histories, they also decided to go for HIV testing together soon. So settled, they eventually ended up making love again.
Later they ordered Chinese take-out for dinner and drank a bottle of wine between them. He didn’t leave until three in the morning--and then only because both of them thought that if he stayed they wouldn’t get anything productive done the next day.
Despite having such a late night he woke up early. Thoughts of Lara flooded his mind like the morning sun streaming through his window. The events of the previous night felt almost like a dream. He couldn’t wait to see her again and assure himself that it had all really happened. When they’d parted in the wee hours they’d thought it best to wait till afternoon to get together again, but now he regretted the delay.
Too wound up to go back to sleep, he got up and worked on his manuscript for the next few hours. Though his thoughts kept straying to the huge change in his life, at the same time his mind was alive and sparkling--capable of moving in several directions at once. Before he knew it he’d pounded out five typed pages. His inspiration seemed to be back.
The time finally came to leave his apartment. A little nervous but walking on air, he stepped outside into another perfect summer day and took a deep, satisfying breath. Only a few white puffy clouds floated overhead--just enough to make the sky interesting. He climbed into the car reflecting that they’d picked a great day for a ride into the country.
Anticipating the sight of Lara the whole way, he drove with the windows down and the radio playing. He hoped that she’d be as eager to see him as he was to see her.
When he pulled into her driveway and saw her sitting outside his heart thumped in his chest. She smiled and waved, and he breathed a sigh of relief. If last night had been a dream, it hadn’t ended yet.
As he got out of the car, she stood and walked to the edge of the porch. In simple jeans and a baby-blue short-sleeved top she looked absolutely beautiful. He liked the way she didn’t usually make a fuss over her clothing. Of course, she didn’t need to. With her body she would have looked great in anything.
He hurried toward her, grinning. Not used to their new relationship, he felt sort of shy. Less than twelve hours ago something really special had happened between them, but would the magic still be there today?
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi.” She came down the steps to meet him, her face radiant and slightly flushed.
Is that glow really for me? he thought. He reached out and took both of her hands in his.
He leaned down and kissed her softly. Her lips were warm and sweet--too sweet to give up after only a taste. He pulled her into his arms and he kissed her more soundly, hoping she didn’t care what her neighbors thought.
“Mmm,” she said as they drew back a little, still holding each other. “Did you sleep well?”
“You bet. And, for once, I actually got some work done this morning.”
“Me, too. Would you believe I’ve been up since eight?” She slipped her hand into his as they turned to climb the steps. “Now I’m looking forward to seeing this village you mentioned. I’ll just need to get my purse--and maybe a sweater, in case it cools down late in the day.”
“That’s a good idea.”
While she ran upstairs, he waited in the parlor, admiring the room one more time. The fragrance of roses drifted in the open front windows, adding to the pleasant atmosphere. If she ever got furniture, the room would be a great place to relax. He could picture himself spending many enjoyable hours in here with her in the future.
Maybe I’m jumping the gun, he thought. Until very recently, he’d believed he needed a break from women. Now his feelings for Lara were sno
wballing by the minute. He cautioned himself to slow down and take the relationship one day at a time...for now.
To redirect his thoughts, he looked up at the painting over the hearth, the sultry bedroom scene that Lara had done. She was a very sensual woman, he noted with a private smile. But when he remembered that his ancestor’s poetry had inspired the work, his amusement faded.
Was it really possible that Geoff had been responsible for the cold drafts and weird mishaps he and Lara had experienced? Mark wished she had never suggested the idea. The world of the dead was one realm he wasn’t anxious to explore.
He heard her footsteps bounding down the main staircase and
turned around to see her enter the parlor. Slightly out of breath, she carried a camera case and a sweater.
“I’m ready when you are,” she said, smiling.
“Great.” He gladly dismissed the ghost from his thoughts. “Let’s get out of here.”
The ride up to the foothills of the Pocono Mountains flew by. While he drove she flipped through stations on the radio, stopping whenever she came across a song she liked. The day turned to be a good one for upbeat oldies, and the songs fit his mood well. Before long both of them were singing along with love songs from the last three decades.
After passing two quick hours this way they reached the little town he’d had in mind, a two-hundred-year-old village called Durnford. Parking along the outskirts of the main road, they walked toward the center of town. Along the way they stopped to take pictures and browse through shops.
Halfway into the village they came across a gallery and checked out the work of the local artists. The merchandise ranged from handcrafted jewelry to large sculptures and paintings. Lara raved over many of the pieces, though personally he thought hers were far more remarkable. After twenty minutes of looking around she bought a pair of earrings made in a classical Greek style.
“I wish I could afford to get one of the paintings,” she whispered to him as they headed for the door, “but I’m at the very limit of my budget.”
“Living alone isn’t easy.” He gave her a philosophical lift of his eyebrows.
“Tell me about it.” They left the shop and she picked up the conversation in a normal tone, stuffing her purchase into her camera case. “My salary is barely covering the bills. If I hadn’t gotten back a big tax return this year, I never would have made it this far. Eventually I’ll probably have to get a housemate to help me out.”
“With a house like yours, you’ll have candidates knocking down the door.” He wondered if he might be one of them but didn’t mention it. “Frankly, I’m amazed your ex-husband gave the place up, especially since it was his family home.”
She fixed her gaze on something--or, more likely, nothing--down at the end of the street. “Ron has a tendency to take the easiest course open to him.”
“If it had been me I would have fought tooth and nail to hold onto my heritage.”
She let out a humorless laugh and took his hand as they started walking again. “Well, you’re not like Ron, thank goodness. He doesn’t fight for much. Evidently heritage isn’t particularly important to him.”
He was glad to hear she didn’t think he was like her ex, but he still wondered about the situation. He had no reason to believe Karen’s suggestion that Lara was a gold digger, but what had happened in her divorce?
He hesitated but decided to go on. “Surely he didn’t just hand the house over to you?”
“Not exactly.” She took a drawn-out breath. “It’s kind of a long story. When we got married we bought the house from my in-laws at a bargain price. Having always lived at home and worked all through college, I had enough savings for a decent down payment, and his parents matched it with a gift. That kept the mortgage payments within our budget.”
“Sounds like a good start.”
“I thought so, too--until a few years later when Ron broke the news to me that he’d built up credit-card debts amounting to almost forty thousand dollars. He wanted to take out a home-equity loan to pay them off.”
He stopped in his tracks, turning to face her. “Forty thousand dollars? How on earth did he spend so much money? Was he a gambler?” He remembered stories like that about Karen’s ex-husband.
She shook her head, her expression bland. “No. He would call himself an ‘entrepreneur.’ His dream was to get rich on some household invention that he would patent and sell to manufacturers. Unfortunately he never hit on the magic formula, but he kept spending money on his workshop and materials. He was spoiled by his parents and never learned the value of money. Besides the stuff for inventing he bought a lot of electronic toys and always had a new car. He liked to eat out a lot--that sort of thing. But I think what caught up with him was that he only made minimum payments on his bills, and the interest kept growing and growing.”
“Didn’t you know about the bills?”
“No.” She shook her head and looked away from him. “You must think I’m stupid. I knew he had his own credit cards, but I had mine, too, and I never suspected he had a problem. When we bought the house he told me his debts were almost paid off. We had no trouble getting the mortgage, so his credit report couldn’t have been too bad. Looking back I realize that he was secretive about his finances, but at the time I never dreamed I might have to police him.”
“I don’t think you’re stupid,” he said firmly. “I know what it’s like to trust in what a person tells you, then find out they haven’t been open with you.”
She gave him a look of concern. “Did something similar happen to you?”
“Nothing quite that crazy.” He waved off her question, more interested in her story than in rehashing his own problems. “It must have been a shock believing you had a certain amount of assets and finding out he’d blown a huge chunk of them. How could a grown man with a wife be so irresponsible? You must have been worried sick about what he would do next.”
“Not at first--not when he came to me crying and falling apart.” She started walking again, and he followed suit. “At that point I wanted to try to help him. I wouldn’t agree to the home-equity loan, but I sold a fairly new car that I owned and lent him the proceeds. He had to sell his, too, of course, and he got his parents to pitch in with a loan.”
“People like him always get bailed out by someone,” he said, disgusted.
“Yes, that’s how they learn the behavior in the first place.” Her voice grew lower. “What really got me was that as soon as we had pulled him past the crisis he went back to his carefree ways, while I had lost all sense of security. I started worrying where I would end up in my old age. The possibility of having kids suddenly looked like a bad idea. I felt like the floor had fallen out from under me.”
As he comprehended more of the repercussions, he felt an overwhelming surge of resentment toward her ex. “Was this what brought on the divorce?”
“One of the last straws, I guess. We had other problems, too. Our personalities clashed...” She trailed off for a moment but snapped back quickly. “Anyway, in the end when we divided up our assets he still owed me and his parents money. He felt he needed his share of equity in the house to live.”
“So he actually proposed that you buy him out?”
She nodded. “This time I borrowed money from my parents. The weird thing is that I didn’t do it because I was thinking about the house. It just seemed the quickest way to get everything settled and have Ron out of my life.”
“I can understand that,” he said under his breath, steaming more by the minute as he thought about what the idiot had put her through. The urge to protect her that he’d felt the night before returned with added strength. He would make a point never to hide things from her. The minute any important issue came up, he would share it with her, good or bad.
“Actually, I shouldn’t make it sound like he was such an awful person,” she said. “He had his good moments, too--but at this point I don’t bother dwelling much on them. It took me a long time to put everythin
g into perspective. Ron and I even dated for two years before we got married, so I invested a huge
portion of my life in him.”
They walked along in silence for quite a while. Mark had a hard time getting past his resentment. He imagined running into Ron Sulley one day and telling the jerk what Lara should have told him when he’d first made his confession: that he was nothing but a big, selfish child who had never deserved her.
“Is that the chocolate shop you were telling me about?” she asked now. She pointed to a storefront on the opposite side of the road.
“Oh--yes it is.” He was surprised they had gone so far.
They crossed the street and walked through the open door. A mouth-watering mix of sweet, rich aromas filled the air. The place was even more tantalizing than he’d remembered. He’d only been there once before, on the way up to the mountains on a skiing trip with friends.
“It smells wonderful in here. You can tell they make good candy.” Lara moved from display to display, excited over each one. She stopped in front of a bin of vibrant red treats. “Swedish fish! I haven’t had these since I was a kid. ...Wow, those pecan turtles look good.”
In the end she settled on a quarter-pound of yogurt-covered raisins, telling him, “At least I can pretend these are somewhat good for me.”
He smiled for the first time since she’d told him her story. “Yes, if you ignore all the sugar in them.”
For himself he bought a bag of the Swedish fish, charmed by the image of Lara eating them as a little girl. He couldn’t resist getting several dark-chocolate pretzels, too, which he shared with her as they left the store.
Not far past the chocolate shop the town thinned out again. They came across a park and continued walking, following a paved bike trail into the woods. With dinnertime approaching, the area seemed to be deserted except for them.
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