“I wasn’t expecting you,” he said.
“I know. I was in the neighborhood.”
He raised one eyebrow. “I’m the only one who lives on this road.”
She smiled. “Maybe I got lost.”
He doubted that. She always knew exactly where she was going. He eyed the foil-wrapped package she held.
“Okay, what is it?” he asked. “Somebody’s having a baby and you want me to build the crib.”
“Not at all.”
“You need me to buy a printing press for the high school newspaper.”
“Not even close.” She tilted her head so her long blond hair tumbled over her shoulder. “What makes you think I want anything at all?”
“You’re bringing me food. That’s usually a sign. You bribe me with sugar.”
“Not in this case.”
Spring had arrived in full force, and with it came sunny days and warm temperatures. Marissa had traded in her long heavy skirts for shorter, softer ones that flirted with her knees and outlined her hips. Gone were the thick sweaters, and in their place were snug little Tshirts. If he were given the choice between whatever she’d brought on that foil-wrapped plate and the woman herself, there’d be no contest.
Still, he didn’t move toward her or try to touch her. She might have found a way into his life, but he was careful to keep his emotions out of reach. He would admit to liking her, but nothing more. Nothing dangerous.
She set the plate on a worktable. “This is a freebee. Mostly me thanking you for everything.”
Why didn’t he trust that? “You always want something.”
“This time I don’t.”
“Show me your hands.”
He’d caught on to her finger-crossing trick, the one she used when she didn’t want the lie to count.
Holding up both hands, she wiggled her fingers. “I’m not here because I want you to do something or buy something. I just came by to say hi.”
“Huh.”
She grinned. “Trust is an important part of our relationship. You really need to stop assuming the worst about me.”
“It’s only because I know you.”
She laughed.
The sound washed over him, seeping inside and awakening things better left sleeping. When they were apart, he knew that being strong was best for both of them, but when they were together, sometimes he wanted more.
Buddy walked into the workshop and glanced around. Marissa went very still, waiting to see if the coyote would finally accept her. So far, he’d kept to himself, but this afternoon, he approached cautiously.
He paused about two feet away and sniffed.
“Hey, big guy,” she said in a low voice. “You’ve lost the rest of your winter coat. You’re gorgeous. Such a pretty face, too, although what with you being a guy, I should probably say you’re handsome.”
Buddy took another step toward her and pressed his nose close to her hand. Then he turned and bolted from the workshop.
Marissa laughed. “That was pretty cool. I think he’s starting to accept me.”
“He’s cautious.”
“As he should be. He’s also amazing. I’ve always wanted a pet. Unfortunately my hours are crazy and it wouldn’t be right to leave an animal alone for so long. Unless I got fish. But they’re hard to cuddle.”
He didn’t want to think about that. “How’s the auction going?”
“Good. We have less than a month to go. Donations are pouring in. People have heard about your bookcase and they’re excited. We’re going to start the bidding at four hundred dollars.”
She sounded delighted. Aaron didn’t burst her bubble by telling her that even a simple end table of his usually went for several thousand dollars. In an odd way, he liked the fact she had no idea how successful he was.
“Four hundred is great,” he said.
“I think so. We get our books wholesale, so that’s a lot of reading. Makes me happy.” She pulled up a stool and plopped down. “How long have you been making furniture?”
“About five years.”
“And why are you famous?” She winced. “I didn’t mean that exactly how it came out. Your stuff is beautiful and all, but why are your pieces in magazines and not some other guy’s?” She winced again. “I’m putting my foot in it here, but you know what I mean.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I know. Why did I get struck by lightning and not someone else?”
“Exactly.”
He’d started making the furniture as a way to heal. Somehow working with wood seemed to ease the ache inside after losing his family.
“I was looking for a place to settle and this was as good as any,” he said. “I started making tables and chairs. I’d always played around with this kind of thing, but I’d never done it seriously. One day I went to an auction to buy some old leather. I had this idea for a padded chair. There was a kid there, a photographer. We got to talking. It turned out he wanted to build a portfolio and I wanted some pictures taken of my work so I could start to sell it. We worked out a trade.”
He settled on a stool. “In the process of showing the pictures around New York, he gave them to a designer who was helping a friend dress a movie set. So they bought a couple of pieces, and when the stars were interviewed to publicize the movie, they used my furniture. A decorator for an upscale hotel chain saw the piece and called me, along with several of the cast members.”
Her eyes widened. “Talk about a chain of events.”
“You’re right. In a year I went from barely paying the bills to having more work than I knew what to do with.”
“It’s amazing how a single event can make such a difference,” she said, glancing at him from under her lashes.
He stared at her. “You’re going somewhere with that.”
“Not at all. I think it’s great that your life was changed for the better. I had a similar thing happen. It didn’t make me rich, but I’m successful.” She leaned forward. “One moment, one person can make a difference.”
He groaned. “You’re killing me, you know that?”
“No, I’m not. I’m showing you the possibilities.”
“Isn’t teaching the woodworking class enough?”
“I don’t know. That’s for you to decide.”
If only he could believe that. Marissa had a way of working her will on people that was nothing short of a gift. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to be on the receiving end of her largess.
“Didn’t you promise to leave me alone?” he asked.
“Not that I can recall. Besides, even though you’d rather eat glass than admit it, you like being part of the world. You’re more comfortable on the fringes, but this is really okay with you.”
He glared at her. “You don’t know that.”
“Am I wrong?”
Three simple words. An easy question. Aaron could answer it in his sleep. He preferred solitude and quiet and not being involved. He liked a day without surprises.
She watched him, her blue eyes bright with confidence and humor. He knew what she wanted him to say, what she needed to hear. It was as if her heart would wither and die without someone, somewhere, to save.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked. “Why aren’t you married with a dozen kids to occupy your time?”
“I’m really busy. It’s hard to establish a relationship because of that.”
“Uh-huh. Now let’s hear the real story.”
She laughed. “You could at least pretend to believe me.”
“I could, but I don’t. Now talk.”
She tucked her hair behind her ears. “I have horrible taste in men.” She held up a hand to stop him from speaking. “I’m not kidding. I mean truly dreadful. I pick broken men and once they’re mended, they dump me.”
She sounded surprisingly cheerful, as if she accepted her destiny. At least this explained her attraction to him, though he wondered when she was going to figure out he couldn’t be healed.
“Why?” he asked. “
Why not regular guys who will make your life better?”
“I haven’t a clue. Show me someone with a real job, a steady temperament and no serious baggage, and my heart barely beats. But put me in the path of someone in recovery, or a guy who’s flirted with the law or is just an all-around loser, and I’m in heaven.”
“Former bad girl seeks former bad guy?” he asked.
She frowned. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. Maybe. I’ve done all the self-help books. I don’t think it’s a self-esteem issue, which still leaves an assortment of potential reasons. Growing up in foster care. Searching for a flawed partner so I can be the superior one. Or my personal favorite, which is my friend Ruby’s theory.”
“Which is?”
“I’m an idiot.”
“I doubt that.”
She was too smart. Which made him wonder why she’d avoided anyone who could make her happy.
“Just so we’re clear,” he said, “you know I’m past saving.”
She smiled. “Gee, Aaron, is that an invitation?”
“Just the opposite.”
“Your way of saying there’s nothing between us?”
“There isn’t.”
But even as he spoke, he felt the attraction crackling in the air. It was like standing in an open area right before lightning struck. The air seemed charged; even the silence pulsed with anticipation.
“I mean it, Marissa. I’m not looking to get involved.”
“Why?”
No way was he going there. “I have my reasons.”
“I know. Deep, dark secrets and those wounded eyes. Anyone else would run screaming in the opposite direction. A smart woman would.”
“You’re plenty smart.”
“Not about men like you.”
He felt buffeted by need. It came out of nowhere and consumed him. He couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, he could only want. She was so different from anyone he’d ever known. Fearless and vulnerable in equal measures. If he were any kind of gentleman, he would send her packing. But he’d always been something of a bastard.
Standing up, he moved toward her. He walked deliberately, giving her plenty of warning, plenty of time to bolt. Instead she swayed toward him in an erotic invitation he could no more deny than he could stop the tide.
He grabbed her shoulders and held her.
“This isn’t a good idea,” he growled.
“Tell me about it.”
Then he kissed her.
CHAPTER SIX
Marissa knew that kissing Aaron wasn’t likely to appear as one of her ten most intelligent moves of the year, but she couldn’t resist him. Not when he was so close to her and the heat of his body was searing her down to her bones.
She liked everything about him, especially the way he pulled her close and claimed her mouth. This wasn’t like the last time. There was nothing delicate about his touch. He wasn’t patient or seductive. Instead, he claimed her with an intensity that bordered on ravishment, and she found that suited her just fine.
His lips demanded even as he pressed his fingers in to her back. She found herself grateful for the stool—it kept her from falling too hard and too fast, at least physically. She couldn’t speak to the rest of her being.
He tilted his head and she did the same. When he nipped on her lower lip, her breath caught and her thighs began to tremble. When he swept his tongue across the place he’d nibbled, she parted her lips instantly.
He slipped inside with the practiced ease of a man intent on pleasing a woman. It was too much, she thought hazily; it would never be enough.
Wanting filled her. Wanting and need and desire and all those other delicious emotions she rarely allowed herself to feel. She wanted to beg him to take her right there on the workbench. She wanted to run out into the sunlight and pound her head against a tree until she forced some sense back into her brain. She wanted this moment to go on forever.
Instead she wrapped her arms around his waist and indulged herself by pressing her palms against his powerful muscles. She memorized the scent of his body and the way he tasted and how he moaned when she slid her own tongue into his mouth and stroked him.
Need grew, as did a sense of the inevitable. But just when she thought he would suggest taking things to the next level, he pulled back.
He rested his forehead against hers. At least he was breathing hard, she thought, pleased she wasn’t the only one affected by what had just happened. When he cupped her cheek, she turned her head so she could kiss his palm. Finally he stepped back.
“This is crazy,” he said.
“Probably.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Okay, definitely,” she amended.
He turned to the window, then crossed to the open rear door and stared out at the forest.
“There are complications,” he said. “Things you don’t understand.”
Her stomach took a quick and painful journey to her feet. “You’re married.”
He shook his head. “No. It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like?”
He was silent for a long time. So long she began to think he wouldn’t answer. Her mind raced with a thousand possibilities. He was sick. He was dying. He was gay.
“You’re not gay, are you?”
That made him turn around and face her. He smiled slightly. “No. I’m not gay. But I can’t do this.”
“What?”
He motioned to her. “This.”
Us. Them. A relationship. She wanted to ask why. She wanted to say that with chemistry like theirs, they were insane to ignore the possibilities. But for once, her nearly legendary courage failed her. She felt awkward and scared and more than a little off balance.
“Then what happens now?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Want to come to my place for dinner one night this week?”
He stared at her. “Didn’t I explain—”
“Actually, you didn’t. You were very mysterious and woo-woo, but you didn’t give me anything close to a reason.”
He blinked. “Woo-woo?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Not really.”
“So?”
He drew in a deep breath. Her heart froze. She desperately wanted him to agree, even knowing that if he did, she would be entering into dangerous territory. All that pain in his eyes might make him incredibly appealing to her, but it didn’t make him a good candidate for a healthy relationship.
“What day is good for you?” he asked.
“Dinner, huh?” Ruby asked in a tone that said she thought the evening would be about a whole lot more.
“Yes. And just dinner. I want to take things slow with Aaron.”
Her friend didn’t look convinced. “You don’t know fast from slow when it comes to men who are bad for you. So what’s the guy’s problem?”
Marissa looked up from the box of books she’d just opened—a donation from a former literacy student of hers. “Why does he have to have a problem?”
“Because you’re interested in him,” Ruby said wryly. “Come on. Spill. What is it? A prison record? Unpaid taxes? Six current wives?”
“It’s not money and he says he’s not married.” Marissa stacked the books on the desk. “He’s fine. Just a little reclusive.”
“But?”
Marissa thought about bluffing her way through, but she’d never lied to Ruby and she was honestly confused.
“I don’t know. I think he likes me.” If his kisses were anything to go by, he liked her a lot. “He says he doesn’t want a relationship, but then he accepted an invitation to dinner. He pulls back and moves forward in the same conversation.”
“Commitment issues,” Ruby said wearily. “The man’s afraid love is a prison.”
“I don’t think so. There’s something in his eyes. Something dark and sad. Like he’s been seriously hurt.”
Ruby set down a handful of picture books. “Girl, when are you going to g
et it? Pain in a man’s eyes isn’t a good thing. Run. Run now, while you still can. He’s going to rip your heart out and chop it up into little pieces.”
“No. I’m maintaining emotional distance. I’ll be fine.”
Her friend shook her head. “You call inviting him over to dinner, then mooning about him all week emotional distance?”
“I can still see him without having to worry about falling for him.”
Ruby’s brown eyes turned knowing. “Oh, it’s like that, is it?”
Marissa frowned. “What do you mean?”
“It’s too late. You’re already crazy about this guy.” She sighed. “You do like to lead with your heart.”
“I don’t…” Marissa was too surprised to do much more than stare. “I haven’t fallen for him. I think he’s nice and interesting and sexy, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“Of course not.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. You’re a goner.” Ruby circled around the table in the library until she stood next to Marissa. “I hope he’s all you want him to be,” she said quietly. “I hope he makes you happy. But if he doesn’t, you know I’ll be here for you, right?”
Marissa was still too shocked to do much more than nod. No way had she fallen for Aaron. Not in such a short period of time. Of course she liked him. Who wouldn’t? But serious feelings were something else. Besides, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t make another bad choice. She was tired of giving and giving, only to end up alone.
But the white-hot burning in her heart warned her that it might be too late to be making rational decisions where her feelings were concerned. Sometime, when she hadn’t been paying attention, she’d started falling for a guy who went out of his way to tell her he wasn’t interested.
“I wanted someone nice and normal,” she said quietly.
Ruby shrugged. “Girl, you wouldn’t know normal if it bit you on the butt. Look on the bright side. Maybe we’re both wrong about Aaron. Maybe he’s just a regular guy with a little history in his eyes. Maybe he’s been dying to meet a woman just like you and settle down.”
Marissa brightened. “You think?”
“It could happen.”
Aaron arrived for his dinner with Marissa fifteen minutes late. He almost hadn’t come. On the way over he’d nearly turned around twice, but in the end, he’d decided to keep the date, if only to tell her that he couldn’t see her anymore.
More Than Words: Stories of Strength Page 10