She shifted, wanting to be closer to this man. Maybe it was the lingering desire from her dream, or maybe it was his words, but she couldn’t move away. Her hips pressed against him, her fingers moving over his chest, feeling the contours of his muscles. Tracing those hard edges, the sculpted lines of his body, the wild, wanton feelings that had surfaced last night in her truck returned. She wanted to touch more, feel more, experience more...
Mark’s hands remained frozen on her back, as if he was clinging to friendship territory. But Amy knew they were hovering close to that line. If she rose up on her tiptoes, she could touch her lips to his. If she held him, letting him feel every inch of her body, he might understand her need to steal a kiss, and maybe more, from the only person who understood her. It had been so long. She knew he wanted her. The way his fingers had slipped below her clothes last night. The way he’d looked at her as if it took every ounce of his self-control to say no when he wanted to tear her clothes off and scream yes.
She wanted the Mark from her dream. The man who set her body on fire—
“Amy?”
The sound of his voice—questioning what she was doing—shattered the moment. This wasn’t a dream. And he wasn’t the man from her fantasies.
She pulled back, her body screaming for her to push forward and claim that kiss. Her hands remained on his chest as the internal battle raged. But he released his hold, his arms falling to his sides, taking the possibility of that kiss with him.
Amy looked down at the concrete floor, knowing it was for the best. Maybe her cousin was right. Amy could write her own rule book when it came to men, relationships, kissing and, God help her, sex. But she hadn’t written it yet.
7
AMY’S HANDS BLAZED a path across his chest. Mark didn’t know whether to curse his flannel shirt or be grateful for the barrier. Without it, he might do something crazy like claim her mouth and kiss her. Hard.
He stared at her parted lips, wanting to make her his. All it took was her hands on him and her body close to send his imagination running wild. The thought of holding Amy’s hips while he pressed into her, feeling her tighten around him... Shit, he wanted that.
His jaw clenched, his hands formed fists at his sides, wishing he could reach out to her again. He’d held her countless times, but never with desire burning so bright they couldn’t ignore it.
“I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her arms.
“Don’t apologize. Not to me.” He reached for her hand but changed his mind. He needed the mental picture of Amy wild and unrestrained to fade. If he touched her now, it would only grow stronger.
“We should join the others,” he said. Anything that would get them out of this room and away from the sense that he’d jumped over an imaginary boundary, and the fact that he wanted to go even further.
She nodded. “I should find Eloise. Tell her that Mrs. Benton invited her to dinner.”
Mark opened the door and held it for Amy. “That wasn’t a request. When Mrs. Benton tells you to come to dinner, it’s an order.”
Amy laughed, but it sounded forced. “No wonder all her boys joined the military.”
Mark knew there was more to their decisions, and he had a feeling Amy did, too. But he let the attempt at lighthearted humor follow them down the kennel’s corridor to the whelping room. She disappeared inside, and he headed for the front door.
Hand on the knob, Mark paused, closing his eyes. He’d nearly kissed her. Amy—the one woman whose friendship he couldn’t afford to lose. If he planned to stay through the opening, live under the same roof, he had to rein in his need. He couldn’t screw this up—and he sure as hell couldn’t screw her. He knew damn well that wanting something didn’t mean you got to have it.
Mark pushed through the door, heading for the half-built tent. “You guys work fast. I didn’t expect you’d have the center poles up already.”
“Piece of cake once we laid out the canvas,” Luke said, holding out a mallet. “Feel like driving in a few pins?”
Mark nodded. He was ready and willing to pound the shit out of something. Taking the tool, he headed for the neatly arranged piles of equipment.
Nearby, Gabe paused, resting his mallet on the ground. “How’s Amy?”
“Fine,” Mark said.
“She didn’t look fine when she headed inside.” Gabe raised his arm, wiping his brow with his shirtsleeve.
“She has a lot on her mind,” Mark said.
Luke shook his head. “She’s working too hard.”
“Yeah,” T.J. said, frowning. “She hasn’t seemed like her old self lately. I still can’t believe she stayed off the dance floor last night.”
“She hurt her ankle.” Mark positioned the pin and raised his mallet to take a swing.
“She looked fine today,” Luke said. “I’ve never seen Amy sidelined.”
Mark shrugged. “With that crowd, maybe she didn’t want to. Someone might get the wrong idea.”
Gabe slowly lowered his mallet without taking a swing. “And think that dancing with Amy would lead to something?”
“No one in town would hit on her,” T.J. said.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Mark said.
“Amy?” Luke’s eyebrows shot up. “She’s always been Darren’s girl. Everyone around here knows that.”
“Darren’s not here anymore,” T.J. said, his voice tight.
“But we are,” Gabe said, and his hand formed a tight fist around his mallet. “If she says something to you, tell us and we’ll take care of it. I don’t want anyone making her feel uncomfortable.”
Mark nodded. He was on the same page. But the reasons he didn’t want another man approaching Amy felt selfish after what had happened in the veterinary room.
He glanced from Gabe to T.J. to Luke. Kissing Amy, touching her, helping her find her wild side—that was a one-way ticket to a fight with men he’d always considered family. He mentally added that to the list of reasons to stay away.
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, Mark headed for the hundred-year-old farmhouse that had been like a second home for most of his childhood. Amy had gone ahead with Eloise to help Mrs. Benton in the kitchen. As he approached the brightly lit building, Mark slowed. Through the side windows he could see the Benton brothers smiling and laughing as they carried their mother’s home-cooked feast to the table.
When they were growing up, Mrs. Benton had always made enough to feed half the town, as if she expected her boys to bring home strays. He should know. He’d been one of the kids with no place to go but a stool at a run-down diner or an empty apartment with leftovers from his mom’s waitressing jobs sitting in the fridge.
Climbing the three wooden steps to the wraparound porch, Mark felt as if he’d stepped back in time. True, he led a team of pararescuemen in Afghanistan. But here, at the Benton family home, he was the quiet kid at the table, soaking up every minute of laughter and warmth as if he could bottle it, take it home and bring it out when he was feeling hungry or lonely.
Mark reached the front door and didn’t bother knocking. Not much point when they wouldn’t hear him over the conversation and laughter. Instead, he walked right into the fray.
“Just in time,” Luke called as he set a steaming dish on the long wooden table. “We’re bringing out the last of the food now.”
“Smells great.” Mark headed through the open pocket doors that separated the formal dining room from the entryway. A lace runner, probably handmade by Mrs. Benton, covered the center of the table. It was overflowing with platters and bowls. Homemade biscuits. Pork roast. Potatoes. Salad. There were more vegetables on the table than he remembered, but he had a feeling that as a kid, he’d ignored those.
Everyone filed in from the kitchen and took their places at the table. Mark claimed an empty spot at the end beside Amy and bowed his head. He listened to Gabe’s rushed blessing, knowing the Benton brothers were counting the seconds until they could reach for the biscuits.
“Gabriel
James.” Elizabeth Benton’s voice cut in before her eldest son could wrap up with the words everyone was waiting for: let’s eat. “You can do better. My family is home, safe and sound at my table. I would like to hear a proper prayer of thanks.”
Luke snickered, and Mark suspected Gabe kicked him under the table. But still, the navy SEAL seated at his mother’s right side obeyed. When Gabe issued the final go, everyone reached for the food and started filling their plates.
“Mom, what is this?” T.J. held up a bowl full of curly green leaves. Mark had spotted it, too, and decided to pass on it.
“Kale. It’s good for you,” Mrs. Benton said. “Try it. You’ll like it.”
“You said the same thing about peas.” T.J. eyed the green leaves suspiciously. “I still hate peas.”
“Try it,” Mrs. Benton repeated, and T.J. reluctantly placed a few pieces on the corner of his plate and passed the bowl to Mark.
“Try it,” Amy said, leaning close. Her voice was low, and Mark doubted anyone else heard her as they talked about the upcoming party.
“I need to leave room for biscuits,” Mark said.
“I dare you.” Her words were barely above a whisper, but he saw the playful gleam in her blue eyes.
He placed two curly leaves on his plate. “Fine.”
Amy took the bowl from his hands, her fingers brushing his, sending a red alert to his cock. One touch—that was all it took to set him on edge with need. And he’d been worried things would be awkward after their almost kiss. But there was only an inescapable desire to grab a hold of her and not let go.
“You never could resist a challenge,” Amy murmured.
His mind heard the word challenge and jumped to a play-by-play of what it would take to make her come.
“Must be what makes you so good at your job,” she added.
His job. His team. Right. He felt like a teenager associating every word out of her mouth with sex.
“Hey, Ames.” Gabe waved his half-eaten biscuit in Amy’s direction. “The tent is supposed to be long and narrow, right?”
“What?” Amy said. “No. It’s square. I need to put tables under it. You’ll have to start over—”
“Relax, Ames,” T.J. jumped in. “It’s up and it’s square. We put it together after you left this afternoon. Ninety minutes. Luke timed it.”
“It’s up?” she said, glancing from Gabe to T.J. to Luke. The brothers nodded. And she turned to Mark. “Have you seen it?” she demanded.
“I helped them,” he said. “We can swing by and check it out on our way home.”
“Okay,” Amy said. “But if it is long and narrow, I’m calling the tent crew tomorrow.”
“If it doesn’t look right, there is something wrong with the materials they sent,” Gabe said.
Eloise, seated at Mark’s side, turned to Gabe, one eyebrow raised. “You just don’t want to admit that the scrawny young guys working for the rental company could build it better.”
“They can’t.” Gabe smiled. “But if you need proof, we could take it down and give them a shot at putting it back up. Time them and see if they beat us.”
“No,” Amy said. “No one is taking the tent down. I have a list of projects for tomorrow. We have less than forty-eight hours before the ribbon cutting.”
The conversation turned to the plans for Saturday, then moved on to various people in town expected to attend. Dinner ended and Mrs. Benton brought out dessert. The Benton brothers joked, taking jabs at each other when they could.
Mark listened and watched, feeling as if he was slipping further and further into the past with each word. How many times had he felt this table shake from one brother kicking the other during dinner? He’d heard Mrs. Benton firmly scold them, her voice filled with equal parts exasperation and love, over and over for years.
Darren and Mark had bonded over a shared love of sports, dogs, and the fact that they were both being raised by a single mother. But that was where the similarities between their home lives ended. Mark’s father had been a first-class bastard. Mark didn’t know if the man was still alive, and he didn’t care.
But Darren’s dad had been a steady, strong presence in his boys’ young lives until he’d given his for his country. Add to that the fact that the Benton brothers had each other and financial security, thanks to previous generations, and Darren’s and Mark’s homes might as well have been in different countries.
Mark stared at his pie. His childhood wasn’t a place he wanted to revisit.
“I’ll clear some of these dishes,” Mark said, pushing back from the table. He collected a pile of empty dessert plates and headed for the kitchen. Moving through the familiar space, he set the plates by the sink and went out the back door. On the deck, he drew a deep breath. He just needed a minute and then he could go in, say good-night and walk back to Amy’s house.
He sat at the top of the three wooden steps connecting the yard to the deck and stared at the stars. Maybe coming here had been a mistake. He could have stayed on base and then shipped out for another tour as soon as possible. PJs were always in high demand. It probably wouldn’t be long before he got back out there.
But Amy had asked him to come to Heart’s Landing, so here he was.
Mark stared up at the crescent moon high in the clear night sky. He heard the back door open. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted her. Amy. Jango trotted past Mark, down the steps and off into the darkness. He heard the door close and felt her claim the empty space beside him on the step.
“It’s cold out here,” she said, hugging her sweater tight around her middle.
“You don’t have to stay,” he said. “I can let Jango back in.”
“No, the fresh air feels good,” she said. “Unless you’d rather be alone. Judging from the way you jumped up to do the dishes, I thought you might have reached your limit.”
“Getting close.”
She started to rise, and he reached out, resting his hand on her leg. “But I’d like you to stay.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nod as her eyes tracked Jango’s movements in the distance. “Can I ask you something?”
Mark moved his hand off her leg, knowing if he didn’t do it now, he might give in to temptation and run his fingers up her thigh. He was close to reaching his limit in more ways than one. Lacing his hands in front of him, he rested his forearms on his knees. “Depends.”
“Have you been back for a family dinner since Darren died?”
“Yeah, I have.”
“But you still miss him more when you’re here,” she said quietly.
“That’s not it.” He lifted his hands, running his palms over his face, searching for the right words. “I practically lived in this home as a kid. Eating here brings back memories.”
And feelings. Of being the kid who had a place at the table but never quite felt as if he deserved to be there.
“Good ones?” she asked.
“Some.” Mark stared out into the night. “But I can’t help thinking about the fact that every night I was here, I wasn’t with my mom.”
“I thought she worked the dinner shift at The Last Stop Diner back when we were in school.”
“She did. And breakfast over at the inn. She’d come home and eat a bowl of the Cheerios she kept in the cupboard, so there would be something for me just in case. Then she’d go to bed, sleep for a few hours and do it all over again.”
“Everyone in Heart’s Landing admired how hard your mom worked to take care of you,” she said softly.
“She didn’t have a choice. Someone had to pay the rent.” She’d never asked him to work, demanding instead that he focus on school and his future. His mother had wanted him to push beyond living for the next paycheck.
“Every night I sat down to eat here, I felt welcome, sure, but also like I didn’t belong,” he continued. “Tonight took me back.”
“I can understand that.”
Mark looked up at her. He’d expected her to contradict him, n
ot agree that he’d been an outsider from day one.
“You and I were always the guests,” Amy continued. “They made us feel like part of the family, but it’s not the same.”
“You became family.”
“I did.” She smiled sadly. “But I think we both know I stayed in Darren’s shadow.”
“Not anymore.”
“No.” She playfully elbowed his side. “But don’t tell them.”
“I won’t.” Stirring up drama before he deployed again was the last thing he wanted to do.
They fell silent. The Benton brothers’ voices drifted out, the sound mingling with the crickets. But the familiar bickering—T.J. giving Gabe shit and Luke jumping into the fray—didn’t make him tense up. Sitting out here under the stars, beside a friend who understood how old baggage could rise up at the wrong moments, he felt comfortable. In the distance, dogs barked, their chatter mixing with the voices from inside.
“I should go back in,” he said, knowing his brief reprieve was over. “Say good-night and thank Mrs. Benton.”
“No need. I told them you would walk me back. They don’t like it when I cross the fields after dark by myself.”
Amy stood and headed down the steps, whistling for Jango. The dog appeared out of the darkness. Mark moved to her side, careful to keep space between them.
In the back of his mind, he’d worried that the brief shift between them, the moment when he’d flat-out wanted her, would lead to stilted, awkward exchanges. He looked over at Amy, noting the soft smile on her lips, the way one hand brushed the top of Jango’s head. The friendship they’d built over the years was solid. Thank God for that. It was like a gift he didn’t wholly feel he’d earned, but one he wasn’t willing to give back.
“What?” Her gaze met his.
“Just feeling lucky.”
“Oh, really?” She raised an eyebrow, and the image of Amy in her underwear filled his mind. He pushed it away.
“Don’t go there, Amelia Mae,” he warned. He’d held back last night in the truck and today in the exam room, but if pressed, tonight he might give in.
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