All That You Are

by Stef Ann Holm

  “My brother didn’t get the chance because of the accident. So I had Terran, and my mom’s helped me ever since. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without her. Then when Terran was two, Cooper had a change of heart and wanted to be an active dad. And that’s where we are today. Split custody.”

  Mark nodded. “Terran seems okay with everything.”

  “He has his days where he’s not. I can’t imagine what goes on in his head sometimes.” She drank more wine, then dared speak the ultimate truth. “I live with guilt.”

  After a span of breaths, Mark replied, “Don’t we all for some reason or another.”

  Dana looked at him, drinking in his chiseled features in the marked light and thinking this was different. Being here with someone who didn’t hold back his thoughts, who was brutally honest yet also tender.

  Time stretched between them, both immersed in their own thoughts once more. Dana didn’t talk about her intimate feelings with anyone. Rarely even with her own mother. It felt strange yet oddly comfortable sitting here with Mark.

  Mark broke the silence. “So how’d you end up with Fish Tail Air? Was your dad a pilot?”

  “No. He stumbled onto it. We’re one of the few places in the marina with prime water dockage. My dad started with a couple of gasoline pumps to supplement his income from the Note. Later, he added the floatplanes. He took out a loan—I’m still paying it.”

  “Sell one of the planes.”

  “Not so easy—buyers have to have a lot of money to afford one. Each is worth a half million. I have two that seat seven, one that seats five.”

  “Someone could get a loan.”

  “Not in this economy. Business is way down. It’s cheaper for me to just make the payments rather than give the planes away at a deflated price. Sam knows what he’s doing. I pretty much leave it up to him.”

  Mark didn’t carry that subject any further, but she could tell his mind was still wrapped around it. Probably wondering just how Sam Hyatt fit into her life. He was a dear friend and they’d shared the same sorrow, but beyond that, nothing remotely romantic.

  “You want to go inside now?” Mark asked, lowering his legs then standing and not really giving her the option to decline.

  “Uh, sure.” Dana stood, as well, her legs feeling mellow under the wine’s effect. She hadn’t drunk more than a glass in who knows how long.

  Mark slid the sliding glass door open for her and she stepped into the living room. The modest room was sparse—just the basics for a rental property. Sofa, chairs, cabinet and television. Mark’s things were scattered throughout the area. His work boots by the front door, a coat thrown over a chair back, brown leather wallet on the breakfast bar with car keys and paperwork—no doubt for the bar’s remodel.

  “You hungry?” he asked, standing in the kitchen, ready to get her something to eat.

  Elbow deep in washing and folding laundry, she’d only had time for a bowl of cereal for dinner.

  “Are you?” she replied.

  He grinned, a white flash that gave her cause to look at his full lips rather than into his eyes. “Don’t I hate that when a woman can’t just say she’s starving.”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m starving…. What do you have?”

  The refrigerator was opened and he stood in its low light, hand on the top and body posture bent to peer inside. “Beer, eggs, bacon, smoked salmon, cheese, chocolate milk, butter and apples.”

  “Cheese and apples. Do you have any crackers?”

  “It’s your lucky day.” He moved to the cupboard and came out with a box. “Pizza flavored.”

  The hunger in her stomach soured as she wondered why boys liked artificially flavored food. Terran would have been all over those crackers. “Just cheese and apples.”

  “Coming right up. Take a load off, sis. Toss the shoes and try out that sofa. Slip into your comfortable.”

  Only Mark would make a comment about a couch and have it be an innuendo. She had no intention of lying down on the thing. She did remove her vest and boots, but kept on her socks. Wiggling her toes, she relaxed, feeling the wine overtake the day.

  This was actually nice—to have someone fix her something. She was always doing things for Terran, getting up constantly from the table to get him something: ketchup, juice or milk. It was a rare treat when someone served her. When she and her mom cooked, they dished their plates from the stove and not at the table.

  Shortly, Mark brought her a plate of thinly sliced red apple and cheddar cheese wedges—with some crackers on the side. He joined her, his masculine weight depressing the cushion with little room to spare as his thigh touched hers.

  “In case you changed your mind about the mini-pizza bites in a box,” he said, gesturing toward the crackers. Setting the plate on the coffee table, he went to pour more wine into her glass but she put her hand in his way.

  “No more. I can feel it.”

  His brow rose and he gave her that slightly dimpled grin that could infuriate her. “Really? Can you show me?”

  Exasperated, Dana stared at him. “Dammit, Mark. Why?”

  Through a smile, he countered, “What?”

  “You know what. Cut it out. You’re acting like a five-year-old. I can hang out with my son if I want to be around someone who’s a goof.”

  He took a piece of cheese. “My brothers have always said I had people laughing wherever I went. I was the kid who made farm animal noises during American Lit.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it got me attention.”

  “Why? I don’t like attention.”

  “I can tell.”

  “So why do you?”

  “I don’t anymore.” The cheese disappeared, then he ate an apple slice. “It was a way to get my dad to notice me.”

  “He didn’t?”

  “Not in the same way he noticed my brothers.”

  This was very telling news about Mark. Clearly a larger family had more kids vying for parents’ time. Terrance had never been that way. She and her brother had received equal time from their mom and dad. Probably more from Dad because he’d been eager to show them how to play the saxophone and learn jazz. Terrance had played ten times better than her.

  Sampling an apple slice, Dana thoughtfully chewed the crisp, sweet fruit. “Do you have any regrets?”

  “Sunshine, that is a loaded question.” He finished his wine and poured another, adding Cabernet to her glass before she could stop him. She’d finished almost all of her second glass, just because it was there. “Sure I have regrets.”

  “Name one.”

  “You,” he responded easily. Too easily for her comfort.

  She drank more wine, its fiery heat sliding into her belly, then she turned to meet his eyes. “Why pick me?”

  Intense brown eyes held her captive. “I wish you lived in Boise so I could get to know you better.”

  “You’d lose interest in me after a week.”

  “Not hardly.”

  “Sure you would. I’m just a challenge—something you can’t have, so I’m appealing.” She drank another sip, the wine drugging her senses.

  “I don’t think you’re appealing. I think you’re sexy as all hell. And I want to kiss you again.”

  Dana swallowed, the apple in her hand pausing midway to her mouth. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “That’s just your opinion.” Mark’s body leaned into hers and he took her wineglass from her, setting it down next to his.

  Her heartbeat slammed in her chest and she fought to calm herself. She didn’t want to fall for him. Didn’t want to think about how attracted she was to him. And she refused to acknowledge he was easy to talk to.

  In a desperate attempt to stave off the inevitable—her melting into him—she said flippantly, “Maybe I didn’t like the way you kissed me.”

  “You’re a liar and you know it.”

  He had her and he did know it. She couldn’t figure out how to stop him, stop this…Probably because she d
idn’t want to. “I don’t lie,” she replied, her voice mottled with emotions.

  “Yeah, you do.” His intense face hovered over hers while his heavy arm draped over her shoulder.

  Whether it was the wine relaxing her resolve or the need to be blatantly honest, she admitted, “I have found myself thinking about that kiss…wanting to touch you.” Heat burned her cheeks. “But I’ll get over it.”

  “You don’t have to get over it. You can have some more.”

  She cast her eyes down, unable to meet his stare. He cupped her chin in his callused hand and gently tilted it up.

  “Touch me,” he commanded softly.

  For the briefest of moments, refusal coursed through her, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. Just this one time she would succumb to the feelings for him that had been haunting her.

  Tentatively, her hands rose to his shirt collar. He wore a T-shirt beneath a button-down. She caught the superfine material in her fingers and felt the weave. It had been a long time since she had touched a man like this. Her movements were slow and fragile, unintentionally bringing a grimace of arousal across his face as if she were deliberately trying to seduce him.

  The feeling of the round shirt buttons was cool beneath her skin, and she rolled one between her fingertips. A low guttural noise rose from Mark’s throat.

  She gingerly slid her hands over his torso, feeling his warmth seeping through the fabric. He ignited under her slow exploration, burning her palms with his body heat even through the cloth.

  Slowly she moved to his flat abdomen, fingering the trail of buttons and wondering…what if…she undid them. She marked each rib with her fingers, moving to the slight rise of his solid chest, tracing the dark hair at his throat. He was all man. Strong and virile, without an ounce of unwanted flesh.

  She heard Mark’s ragged breath catch in his chest. Her hands grazed him with a blend of innocent sensuality, but she knew damn well what she was doing.

  It had been so long since she’d been with a man.

  “Dana.” Mark’s rough voice fell on her ears. “You’re taking me to heaven and hell at the same time. You better stop.”

  “Shh.” She put her fingertip to his mouth, surprised by her own daring. It must be the wine, or the aching loneliness, or just because it felt so good to touch him—she didn’t want to stop.

  In a testament to Mark’s willpower, he continued to let her roam his body freely, discovering what he was made of.

  Dana moved up to the tendons of his neck and buried her hands in his thick hair. Coarse and silky at the same time, it smelled like a hint of outdoors and shampoo.

  He didn’t move as she felt his face the same way he had felt hers that night they had kissed in the rain. His forehead was smooth and bronze from the sun. She ran her thumbs over his eyebrows from where they were fully arched to the outer part where they tapered, making him look like he was scowling. He had closed his eyes, his lashes surprisingly soft and full as her own. She felt the strong, straight bone of his nose.

  As she tenderly caressed his face, she ran her fingertips over his full mouth and finally over the stubbled beard that—

  Abruptly, his eyes shot open and the vise grip of his fingers circled both her wrists. “Dammit,” he moaned deeply. “Do you know what you’re doing to me?”

  He gently but firmly pushed her back into the sofa, lying on top of her with a pleasant weight, one she welcomed. This time it was she who briefly closed her eyes.

  She felt the hard length of him behind the fly of his jeans. He rested on his elbows and caught her face, then took her mouth.

  There was an urgency to the kiss this time, not like the softness of before. She welcomed him, her coaxing lips eager to pleasure him, as well.

  He tasted of cheese and red apples and the hard sweetness of wine. She moved her hands down the broad expanse of his shoulders and back, clutching his waist and finally feeling the tight muscles of his backside. She shivered in his arms, passion radiating in every nerve ending of her body.

  Mark’s hands burrowed into her hair, the straightened black length that she’d softened with products. He cupped her head in his wide, rough hands, kissing her and tracing the soft fullness of her lips, then changing the slant of his kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth and she was lost. She met him, sparring with him, drawing him deeper into her mouth.

  It was all she could do not to wiggle out of her clothes to feel the velvet warmth of his bare skin next to hers. He slid his hand down her neck and shoulder, kneading her with his fingers, savoring and exploring. When he came to her breast, he moved slowly and artfully over its fullness.

  Dana’s cry was lost on his lips as Mark gently stroked her breast. Her nipple sprang into a hard, tight peak against the thin layer of her bra. For a long moment, he caressed her over her sweater, kissing her with deep, drowning kisses. Only after she thought she would die if he didn’t touch her bare skin, did he slide his hand under her top. He managed to move her bra aside and covered her breast with his hand. She burned from the contact, arching her back to him.

  The motion brought a groan from Mark, who pulled the knit aside to reveal her breast. Her skin seared under his gaze. She’d always been a little self-conscious about the size of her breasts and the dark nipples.

  She moved to cover herself, but Mark shook his head, tracing her with his fingertip and vaguely smiling with pleasure.

  Dana felt herself falling into a sexual pool she had never known existed. Kissing and touching had never felt this recklessly sexy with Cooper. Never this bone-marrow melting. Her body was damp from sweat, the core between her legs aching with need and wanting.

  But as delicious as the sensations Mark evoked in her were, they were taken away. He righted her bra, smoothed her sweater back into place and lowered a leisurely kiss on her parted lips.

  The cloud of desire waned and her thoughts scattered. She would have gone to bed with him. No doubt about it. And that sobered her—angered her—that she could just throw caution to the wind. She wasn’t on any kind of birth control—until now there had never been a need.

  Mark moved off her, a fine sheen of perspiration covering his brow. His heart hammered in his chest, she could see it in the pulse at his neck.

  “It’s time I take you home,” he said in a raspy tone.

  Dana gazed at him, her face flushed. Suddenly she became self-conscious of her actions. How could she have let herself be so transparent? She’d let her guard down. In fact, she might as well have used dynamite on it. It was gone, obliterated. All that she had left was a painful vulnerability and the sweet ache inside her that still wanted to be satisfied by his body on hers.

  Mark combed his hair with his fingers, taking a long shot of wine to clear his head. “Let’s get your coat.”

  “I need to get my shoes on first,” she replied, slightly abruptly. The guy was pushing her out the door and she grew perturbed.

  Standing and moving into the kitchen for his keys and wallet, Mark threw on his coat then came to wait for her by the sofa. She slipped her vest on and grabbed her purse.

  Before she could take a step to the door, he put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her sweetly on the mouth. With a tilt of his chin, he rested his forehead on the top of her head.

  “Go out with me next week,” he said, his words surprising her.

  She didn’t think she could be around him anymore, not alone. She couldn’t trust herself. Thankfully, she had an out. “I can’t. I have my son.”

  “Bring him, too. We’ll go to dinner. And whatever else there is to do in this town that Terran likes to do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m asking.” He lifted his face and stared into hers. “Because it will give us something to look forward to.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “KAH-POW! MOMMA, I just tasered you!” Terran aimed a dead cell phone at her hip and made a garbled detonating noise from his mouth, blasting her again.

  A large shocking orange
vest swam on his little boy frame with SECURITY spelled out in big letters on the back. Cooper had given him a defective phone that had been returned to GCI and Terran had created a pretend gun with it.

  Five minutes late, Cooper had pulled to the curb to drop their son off, and Dana had come down to greet them. Terran had spilled from the Jeep in an animated fashion, eager to show her what he’d been up to.

  “Hey, Mommy—watch this!” He spread his legs apart at the curb and aimed at Cooper’s stomach. “Hannah Montana is a stupid butt.”

  “Terran,” Dana cautioned, collecting his belongings. “Don’t say ‘butt’ and don’t say ‘stupid.”’

  Cooper added his opinion. “But Hannah Montana is stupid.” He didn’t back her in the discipline department—no big surprise. Hair touched his brow as he bent down to tie his shoe. “That Miley chick makes bank—and for what? Looking like a dweeb on the Disney Channel.”

  “Mommy—I’m security for Miley Cyrus’s concert and I use a Taser on anyone who tries to kill her on the stage.”

  “Honestly, Cooper,” Dana hissed beneath her breath. “Do you really think that’s a positive role-play game for our son?”

  Rising to his feet, Cooper shrugged. “He found the security vest at Ben’s and he wanted to wear it home. Ben said he could. That night Terran was flipping from Nickelodeon to the Disney Channel, he wanted to know who Miley Cyrus was. I swear to you, he got it into his head to be security for her. Not my fault.”

  Ben was Cooper’s friend and the goalie on their adult league team. Not the brightest crayon in the box, Ben worked for Tongass Sanitation. Cooper had been buddies with him for years, and while Dana didn’t necessarily think Ben made the greatest impression on her son, there were worse friends Cooper could hang out with.

  “Well, I don’t want him going around saying he’s going to kill people.” Dana grabbed the backpack from Cooper’s hand. “That’s not normal for a five-year-old.”

  “Hell, yeah it is. When I was Terran’s age, I set ants on fire with matches,” Cooper said in a low tone. “And I laughed when I watched them sizzle and fry.”