by Abby Gaines
“I was only talking about sleep. Besides, you can’t get pregnant again,” he said.
“I mean, we didn’t enjoy it,” she said. “It could have wrecked our friendship.”
“What friendship?” Disappointment made him rude. “From what you said tonight, you never thought we had a friendship at all.”
He clipped the lead to Boo’s collar and left.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LUCAS TOOK BOO FOR A WALK along the beach. In the end, after much effort, the dog produced three marbles of poop, rock-hard when Lucas scooped them up with a bag. “Good job, buddy,” he said encouragingly as he dropped the output in a trash can. “Your life is going better than mine.”
When they got back to the room, the sofa bed had been made up. Merry was already in the real bed, covers drawn to her chin, eyes closed. Boo turned around a couple of times, then lay at her feet.
Lucas didn’t think she was asleep, but he had no desire to talk. He grabbed his toiletry kit and headed for the bathroom. When he came out, the room was dark. She’d been awake, then. He groped his way to the sofa. A snuffling snore came from Merry’s bed, suggesting she wasn’t awake any longer. As he slid between crisply laundered sheets, the one good thing about hotels, he hoped her snoring wouldn’t keep him awake.
He must have fallen instantly asleep, because soon he was dreaming. He was in his mom’s car outside Clark’s Deli. He and Garrett were arguing over which radio station to listen to, when he saw a face pressed against the store window, mouthing something. His dream self, twelve years old, scrambled out of the car, pushing Garrett aside. In the next moment, he was in the store, kneeling beside his mom, doing chest compressions. His hands were slippery, wet with tears he couldn’t stop, which rained down as he counted out fifteen compressions. Then two breaths, into her mouth, then back to the compressions. Hands reached out, trying to pull him away, but he hunched over and doggedly kept going. And then he felt it. The merest whisper, flicker of life. “Yes,” he shouted, triumphant, and redoubled his efforts. “Mom, yes.”
Behind him, someone howled.
Lucas sat bolt upright.
A dream. He hadn’t been there. Hadn’t saved her.
The howl, though, was real. It came again. And again.
“What the hell?” The damn dog. Lucas shook his head to throw off the fog of sleep as he groped for a light switch. He vaguely remembered a lamp next to his sofa, but couldn’t find it. A clattering from across the room suggested Merry had the same problem. She said something that he didn’t hear over the howling.
Lucas’s arm knocked into something that felt suspiciously like a lamp. It crashed to the floor. He swore and pushed his covers back, got out of bed and tripped over Boo—damn animal had moved. As Lucas went flying forward, Merry’s lamp snapped on. A second later he landed on top of her.
At least now he could see where he was. Which turned out to be half off, half on her bed, facedown on her thighs. He’d been worse places.
He registered silence. Or, more precisely, the absence of howling. He could hear two sets of breaths: short puffs from Merry and panting from the dog.
Now that she was partway out from under the covers, he saw she was wearing a cherry-red camisole. One strap had slid off her right shoulder, baring the line of her collarbone and the gentle swell of her breast.
Then she said, “Are you planning on lying there all night?” and she sounded like Merry, not like some seductress.
“My apologies, Mrs. Calder.”
Lucas braced himself with a hand either side of her and pushed himself upright. He was annoyed to feel not entirely steady. “What’s wrong with your damn dog?”
The animal was now sound asleep at Lucas’s feet, as if he’d never made that racket.
“Just one of his nightmares,” Merry said. She shuffled up against her pillows. “Patrick says dogs do dream, and Boo’s done it before.... I think he’s missing Ruby, his owner.”
Boo’s ears twitched at the name.
“Maybe I should tie him up out on the terrace,” Lucas said. “You need your rest.”
“Actually, you’re the one who woke me, before Boo started,” she said. “You were talking in your sleep.”
“I wasn’t.” He realized his heart was still thumping with the adrenaline of performing CPR on his mother.
“You were dreaming,” she said. “Shouting. You said Mom.”
“I don’t think so.”
She wriggled higher up the pillows. “Do you dream about her often?”
“Nope.” This was the first time in a long time. He wondered why it had come back now. “Good night,” he said.
“I remember when she died.” She rubbed her eyes. “You were twelve, going on thirteen.”
Lucas grunted.
“It was in April or May? It must have been around five in the evening. Garrett had gone shopping with her.”
“It was April 19. Garrett’s fifteenth birthday,” Lucas said.
His elaboration of the details surprised Merry. That dream, whatever it was, must have unsettled him. She’d forgotten that his mother had died on Garrett’s birthday. Poor Garrett.
“Mom told him she was going to buy milk, but really she needed candles for his cake. They were only supposed to be gone ten minutes.”
“You stayed at home.”
“It was just a stupid errand.” He tipped his head back. “I should have been there.”
He sounded so bleak, Merry caught her breath. “You think you could have saved her?”
He gave a barely discernible shrug. “For years afterward, I used to lie awake imagining how things might have been different if I’d been there. I was in the sea cadets. I’d had training in CPR.” He lowered his gaze to hers. “Someone, a guy in the store, did give Mom CPR. Garrett tried, too, after they called him in. But in my head I used to picture myself shoving that bystander guy out of the way and taking over. Doing it better than he did. Better than Garrett did, too.”
Merry couldn’t stop herself from touching Lucas’s hand on the duvet.
He didn’t seem to notice. “In the dream, I keep trying, long after the other dude would have given up, long after it was possible to save her. And in the dream, she…lives.”
“You don’t… Lucas, you don’t feel guilty that you weren’t there, do you?” Merry asked.
He started, as if he’d forgotten her presence. He slid his hand out from beneath hers. “Of course not.” His face closed up. “Go to bed, Merry.”
Realization dawned.
“That’s why you decided to stay married to me,” she said. “You were afraid that if we filed for divorce, and then my dad died…”
“I wasn’t afraid,” he said.
“You didn’t want it on your conscience, then.” No, that wasn’t right, either. “You didn’t want to miss a chance to save him,” she said. That was it.
Lucas’s expression turned stony. Every rigid inch of him telegraphed that he didn’t want to have this conversation.
“Lucas, I’m so sorry I put that burden on you.” Though she couldn’t say she wouldn’t have done it, even if she’d known. Her dad’s survival was paramount. But she might have found a way to make it easier for Lucas.
“There’s no burden,” he said coldly.
She leaned forward. “Lucas…”
He looked blatantly down at her camisole, which had slipped forward.
“Another half inch, honeybun, and things might start to get interesting,” he said, his voice deeper than it had been a moment ago.
It was such a flagrant attempt at distraction, she laughed.
He hooked the front of her camisole with his finger.
“Lucas! I’m trying to talk to you.”
“I don’t want to talk.” He held her gaze. “Did you know your hair has gold glints in this lamplight?”
She swallowed. “That’s very poetic.”
“I’m a romantic kind of guy.” His gaze settled on her mouth. “I just realized I forgot to
kiss my wife good-night.”
“I’m not that kind of wife,” she reminded him breathlessly.
“I think it would help settle Boo down. Give him a feel of being with family.”
“You’re not thinking at all,” she said.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe that’s a good thing.” His lips met hers in a kiss that was there one moment, gone the next.
Yet when he pulled back, she was trembling.
“You should go back to your bed now,” she said shakily.
He shook his head. “I’d like to try something different.” The heat in his eyes drew her in.
“What’s that?” she breathed.
“I’d like to make love to you when someone isn’t about to die.”
She stared. “You think that’s the problem?”
“I’m sure of it,” he said.
“You don’t think it’s that you’re bad in bed? Sarah said you are.”
He huffed a laugh, which she thought was pretty generous, given the subject. “And Sarah knows this how?”
“Just a good guess.”
“Or a not so good guess,” he said. “Trust me, honeybun, the problem isn’t that either of us is bad in bed.”
“Oh.” She considered that. “It could be that you’re not sufficiently attracted to me.”
“That is the stupidest thing you’ve said in all the years I’ve known you. And that’s saying a lot.”
She laughed.
He stopped the laugh with his mouth on hers.
Hot, questing. No hesitation.
A kiss wouldn’t hurt. When Lucas probed the seam of her lips with his tongue, she opened for him.
“I love your mouth,” he murmured. “So good.”
“It’s just a mouth,” she said against his, enjoying the vibration of the words.
He pulled back, traced her lips with one finger. “I’m considering this mouth for the title of Merry’s Greatest Asset.” Before she could guess what he’d do next, both hands went to the bottom of her camisole. He peeled it up and stared. “On second thought, honeybun…”
She laughed, self-conscious but pleased. Her breasts were so unimpressive…yet no way was he faking the reverence with which he gazed at them.
“Make love to me, Lucas,” she murmured.
There was a moment of suspended tension…and then a rush of tugging and undressing, a tangle of limbs and lips.
When they were both lying completely naked, he paused.
Oh, no, not again.
This time, she would say it first. “Maybe we should—”
“Quiet, Petty Officer Wyatt,” he ordered. “No talking during inspection.”
She sighed, feigning exasperation. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
He grinned. “That’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me.” He propped himself up one elbow and perused her body from head to toe. She’d never felt so exposed in her life…and yet she’d never felt so wanted.
“Did I pass inspection?” she murmured.
“With flying colors,” he said.
Then he moved down and kissed her stomach.
From that moment, things turned serious.
Lucas made love with passion, intensity, determination. Like a hero.
Merry was powerless. She was powerful. She adored every second. And when they were both deliciously, exhaustedly complete, she knew things would never be the same again.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LUCAS WOKE TO THE GLARE OF sunshine through an imperfectly closed curtain, and the sound of waves. It took him a moment to remember.
The Pelican Inn.
Merry.
Incredible. Finally, they’d made love and got it right.
More than right. Lucas had never experienced anything like last night. If this was married sex, no wonder the institution was so popular.
He turned his head to the right so he could see her. Still asleep, facing him, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, a half smile on her lips.
He wanted her all over again.
We get to have sex like that for the rest of our lives.
Because if last night had achieved anything besides sublime pleasure, it had brought them together in a way he hadn’t suspected was possible. Not even Merry could deny that they had the ingredients to make their marriage work.
It dawned on him he’d be one of those navy guys with a wife and kid, a family either back home or on a navy base, depending where he was deployed.
In the past, he’d imagined that being a distraction at best, a burden at worst. He’d never “got” the sentimentality that made men carry letters from wives and messy drawings from kids in their chest pocket, over their heart. The photos taped inside lockers, the playing over and over again of “our song” on iPods…
Now those things seemed…still kitsch. But kind of cool.
Beside Lucas, Merry stirred, opened her eyes.
“Hi.” Her smile widened. “Wow.”
“Yeah.” He suspected his grin was sappy, but he didn’t care. He kissed her, slowly and tenderly, with the sensual leisure of a man who had all the time in the world to please his wife.
Boo woofed next to the bed, jerking them apart.
Lucas cursed.
Merry laughed. “He’s probably hungry. I know I’m starving.”
“You’re the great romantic in this marriage. Shouldn’t you be surviving on passion?”
“Passion plus breakfast,” she said. “Do they do room service?”
He pushed the covers aside and got out of bed, aware she was watching his nakedness.
While he ordered a hearty breakfast, she disappeared into the bathroom. A minute later, he heard the shower running. When she came out, she was dressed in skinny black velvet jeans and that cream cable-knit sweater she’d worn on the boat. She looked touchable.
“I’ll take Boo out while you’re in the shower,” she said.
She came back just as their breakfast arrived, and they sat down to pancakes with a side order of scrambled eggs. Merry took one look at her plate and shuddered.
“I just lost my appetite. I’ve been queasy the past couple of mornings and it just got worse.”
He pushed his chair back. “What can I get you?”
“Stay where you are,” she said. “It’s morning sickness—it happens to almost everyone. I’ll drink some orange juice for the vitamin C, and maybe try a dry pancake.”
Lucas thought about suggesting a doctor, but Merry was a woman who knew her own mind. Reluctantly, he returned to his meal. She seemed okay, sipping her freshly squeezed orange juice.
“So, honeybun,” Lucas said, “we need to map out where to go from here. We can’t keep living at your dad’s place.”
“As I see it, we have a few other things to cover before we get to where we live. Shouldn’t we figure out the state of our relationship first?”
He poured syrup over his pancakes. “The state is pretty obvious, honeybun.”
She set down her glass. “Go ahead, enlighten me.”
Lucas paused. There was an edge to her tone that made him think he might have just walked into a minefield. Without a mine detector. But, hey, he was an expert on minefields. And after last night, how dangerous could this conversation be?
He chewed his mouthful and swallowed before answering. “First up, I’d say last night debunked the ‘we’re incompatible’ myth.”
“True,” she said with a saucy smile that turned him on all over again.
Beneath the table, he captured her foot between his. “In fact, that was the best sex of my life.”
She laughed, blushed. “Mine, too,” she admitted.
“Which is a damn good thing for a marriage,” he pointed out.
She tore a piece off one of her pancakes and put it in her mouth. “True.”
This was all going nicely. Time to move her along. “I believe,” he said, “that if you and I are prepared to work at it—which I know I am—we could make this marriage great. We could have a strong
partnership.” An inspired choice of words, after what she’d said last night about those games they’d played back in the day.
Incredible that for all those years, she’d had it wrong.
“Plus, I think we can be great parents to our child,” he said. “We can be great parents separately, but I think we’ll be better together.”
There. He’d laid his cards on the table.
He inclined his head to her. Show us what you’ve got.
“Here’s where I’m coming from.” Merry wiped her fingers on her napkin with a deliberation that didn’t bode well.
Dammit, did she always have to come from somewhere other than where he was? She’d accused him of doing his own thing without involving her, but when had she ever tried to bring him along with her?
“Last night was amazing,” she said. “In fact, I didn’t know—”
“It could be so good,” he agreed. Their eyes met, and there was a moment of almost shocking intimacy as her mind and his went to the same place.
Maybe they could take the rest of the conversation as a given and go back to bed.
Merry swallowed. “Last night was a beginning, not an end.”
“Absolutely,” he said.
“A step that brought us closer to one day being able to say yes, this is it, this is forever.”
It took Lucas a moment to process that. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Last night was the beginning of the rest of our lives.” Which sounded so much like a bad greeting card, he almost gagged.
Merry did gag. She clamped a hand over her mouth and ran for the bathroom.
“Sorry,” she said when she came back a minute later. “And no, I don’t need a doctor.” She sat down again. “This isn’t quite how I imagined this conversation going,” she said ruefully.
“Me, neither.” Lucas wasn’t sure what he’d imagined, but it hadn’t been this feeling that Merry was calling the shots. He was pretty sure bed would have featured at the end of it.
“One thing I’ve learned in the past few weeks,” she said, “is that all those ideals I have in my head, about how love works, and how family works…they only go so far.”
“You mean, real life is messier?” Lucas suggested. He knew that, but was surprised to hear her say it. It was, he thought, a good sign.