“Oh-h-h,” Emily said, sniffling, then relaxed again, giving way to her rising passion.
Mark laved the nipple of one of Emily’s full breasts with his tongue, and she closed her eyes to savor the exquisite sensations swirling within her. He moved to the other breast to pay homage to the sweet bounty.
Emily’s hands skimmed over Mark’s back, marveling at the taut muscles bunching beneath her palms. When he sought her lips again, she sank her fingers into his thick hair, then pressed his mouth harder onto hers. Their tongues met in the darkness of her mouth, dueling, dancing, heightening their desire to a fever pitch.
They kissed, touched, hands never still, lips going where hands had traveled, leaving a moist, heated path in their wake. So hot. Burning. Until they could bear no more.
“Oh, Mark, please,” Emily said, a sob catching in her throat.
“Yes. I want to protect you, Emily. Wait for me.”
Forever, Emily thought dreamily, as Mark moved off the bed. She had waited for Mark, for all these years, and now he was home again…with her.
Mark returned to the bed, moved over Emily and into her, gently, slowly, watching her face for any hint that he was hurting her, knowing it had been years since he’d left her, glorying in the fact that there had been no other man sharing this intimate act with her while he’d been gone.
Emily gripped Mark’s shoulders as he filled her. She was awed by the strength and power of all he was bringing to her. He began the rhythm, and she met him beat for beat as he increased the tempo to a thundering cadence.
Heat coiled low in their bodies as they approached the release, the place where they could only go together. Higher. Hotter. Lifting up and away until they were flung into the wondrous oblivion of sparkling colors they had sought.
They hovered in ecstasy, then seemed to float back down in a swaying motion that was gentle and peaceful and brought them back to reality with a soothing touch.
Mark shifted off Emily, then kept her close to his side as he sifted the fingers of one hand through her silky hair. She flattened one hand on his chest, feeling the moist curls of the hair there and the muscles beneath.
Oh, mercy, Emily thought, she was in love with this man. This man. Had never stopped loving him. She’d buried her feelings so deep within her that she hadn’t even known they were there, but now there was nowhere to hide from the truth of her love for Mark Maxwell. But she could not, would not, tell Mark how she felt.
“That was fantastic,” Mark said quietly. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No, oh, no. It was wonderful and…” She would cherish the memories of this night forever. “Wonderful.”
“I think I’d better leave.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
“I don’t want to go, believe me,” he said, then kissed her on the forehead. “I want to wake up next to you in the morning and make sweet love to you again and again. But I…”
Emily sighed. “No, I know you’re right. Trevor mustn’t find out that we… Thank you, Mark, for making me feel so beautiful.”
“You are beautiful, Emily.”
He kissed her, long and deeply, causing the smoldering embers of desire within them to begin to glow, threatening to burst into raging flames once again.
“Nope,” Mark said, chuckling, “I’m out of here before I can’t bring myself to leave. I’ll see you here tomorrow night when you arrive from work. Trevor and I will be waiting for you to come home. Good night, lovely Emily. Sleep well.”
“Good night, Mark,” Emily whispered.
Mark left the bed and dressed quickly. He bent down, dropped a quick kiss on Emily’s lips, then strode from the room. Darkness fell as he turned off the lamp in the living room, then Emily heard the quiet click of the front door close behind him.
And then she cried.
She rolled onto her stomach, buried her face in the pillow and cried.
She cried because for one fantasy-filled night she had been beautiful.
She cried because she now knew that she had never stopped loving Mark Maxwell, and it was so heartbreaking because he would never again love her as he once had.
She cried because she was fat, and a world apart from the sophisticated arena Mark existed in and she wished that she wasn’t.
She cried because she was so scared of what would happen when Trevor was told of her mountain of lies.
Emily cried until exhaustion claimed her, and then she slept and dreamed of Mark.
Eight
This day, Emily thought, in the middle of the next afternoon, was a disaster due to the fact that she, the person who was attempting to function in it, was a basket case.
There was a never-ending ping-pong game being played in her brain, she mentally rambled on, pressing one fingertip to her forehead.
Ping…the memories of the lovemaking shared with Mark last night caused a warm flush to stain her cheeks and a soft smile to materialize on her lips.
Pong…making love with Mark had been a terrible mistake because it had caused the adolescent love she’d had for him years before to zoom into the present and consume her, the woman she was now.
She’d been walking around in a fog since she’d left the house that morning, she mused. She’d gotten halfway to her client’s home to deliver the historical report she’d finished, when she’d realized she’d left it on the drafting table at the office.
At noon she’d ordered a salad to be delivered from the deli in the mall, only to remember as she ate it that she’d packed a salad at home and brought it with her.
She’d completely forgotten that this was the day to attend her tailor-made exercise class at the health club that went along with her diet. And only minutes ago she’d discovered that she was wearing one brown shoe and one black one. So, on top of being late for her appointment, she’d looked like someone who didn’t know how to dress herself once she finally got there.
Enough of this pity party, Emily told herself. She was going to breeze into the house, greet Trevor and Mark, then off they’d go for hamburgers, which meant she would consume yet another salad. Mark would not have one clue, not the tiniest hint, that she was falling apart.
She could do this. She had to.
She’d worked too hard at building her sense of worth, her self-esteem after her grandfather had given her that exquisite, special mirror. She wasn’t going to destroy all that she’d accomplished in regard to believing in herself, liking who she was.
“I am woman,” she yelled, just as the door to the office opened.
“Cool,” a teenager said. “What I need is for you to be the woman I’m supposed to deliver these flowers to.”
Emily’s eyes widened as she stared at the gorgeous bouquet of long-stemmed red roses in a crystal vase that had a red satin bow tied around it.
“Sorry, kiddo,” she said. “You’ve got the wrong I-am-woman. Those sure aren’t meant for me.”
“Are you—” The boy looked at a clipboard he pulled from beneath his arm. “—Emily MacAllister?”
“Yes, but…”
“Bingo,” he said, crossing the room and handing the vase to Emily. “Sign here.”
Emily juggled the vase, scribbled her name on the appropriate line, then told the boy to wait while she got him a tip.
“It’s been covered,” he said, heading back toward the door. “Enjoy your posies.”
“But…”
Emily frowned, slid off the high stool and walked to the desk where she could set the vase on a flat surface. She pulled a small white envelope free of what looked like a plastic fork and withdrew the card inside.
She felt the color drain from her face, then in the next instant it returned tenfold, causing her cheeks to flush with warmth.
“Emily,” she read aloud, her voice quivering and her heart racing, “thank you for a special night. You are beautiful. Mark.”
She leaned over and buried her nose in one of the luscious blossoms, then straightened and stared at the bo
uquet.
She had, she thought, at thirty-one years old, just received her first bouquet of flowers from a man.
Oh, they were such pretty flowers, but they were even more than that. Mark knew, just somehow knew, that she would be nervous about seeing him again, so he’d stepped up and taken care of the situation. He was letting her know with the delivery of this bouquet that he didn’t regret what they had shared.
He didn’t?
And he was even stating on this day after the deed that she was beautiful?
Was this confusing? Emily thought, frowning. It certainly was. Well, she’d just throw it on top of the heap of other confusing things in the maze in her mind, forget about it for now and thoroughly enjoy her lovely roses.
The telephone on the desk rang, causing Emily to jerk at the sudden noise. She snatched up the receiver.
“Then and Now,” she said, in her cheerful telephone voice. “May I help you?”
“Emily? Hi, this is Jessica.”
“Hello, sister mine. How are you? And Daniel? And Tessa?”
“We’re all fine and dandy,” Jessica said. “Listen, I signed up to do the family birthday bash for July, but since Daniel and I are still living in his apartment and can’t smush everyone in there, we’re borrowing Grandma and Grandpa’s house. Daniel and I will take the cake and stuff over to their place.
“I realize this is Thursday and we’re planning this shindig for Sunday at one o’clock, which is short notice, but I’ve been so busy with my court cases that the week just flew by.”
“I imagine that happened to Perry Mason a lot, too,” Emily said, smiling.
“No doubt about it. He told me that very thing,” Jessica said, laughing. “Anyway, it’s the usual routine. No gifts or we’d all be bankrupt, just cards for everyone with a July birthday, and it’s potluck. Would you bring some kind of salad?”
“You have no idea what an expert I am at salads,” Emily said. “Okay. I’ll make a humongous salad to feed the multitudes of MacAllisters and sundry others.”
“Speaking of others,” Jessica went on, “I heard that Mark Maxwell is back in town and spending time with you and Trevor. A little birdie also whispered in my ear that Mark is now a real hunk of handsome stuff.”
“Does that little birdie happen to be named Margaret MacAllister?”
“Emily, I’m an attorney who never divulges her sources of information.”
“That’s the code for journalists and police officers, Jessica,” Emily said. “Your sworn-to-silence thing only covers your clients. I doubt seriously that Grandma hired you.”
“Whatever,” Jessica said merrily. “The point is, this invitation is extended to Mark, as well as to you and Trevor. Everyone will enjoy seeing him again.”
“Oh, but…” Emily said, her mind racing.
“Oops, I have a call on another line that I’ve been waiting for. Gotta go,” Jessica said. “Oh, before I forget. Mom and Dad will be back late Saturday night from their romp up the coast so they’ll be attending the party.”
“They weren’t due back for another week or so,” Emily said, her eyes widening.
“I know, but it’s been raining like crazy up there and they decided to cut their trip short and come home in time for the July birthday basheroo. See you Sunday. Bye for now.”
“But…” Emily said, then realized she was talking to the dial tone.
Emily replaced the receiver, then moved around the desk and sank onto the chair behind it as she spread her hands on her cheeks.
Dear heaven, she thought frantically, this was terrible, just awful, a complete and total disaster. There were just too many MacAllisters, too many chances of someone slipping and commenting on how much Trevor looked like Mark had back when he was in high school.
“Oh, God,” Emily whispered. “Trevor mustn’t find out the truth like that, not like that.”
Well, okay, so she wouldn’t ask Mark to go to the party. That was simple enough. Right? Wrong. One of the mighty matchmakers would no doubt be certain that Mark received his warm-welcome invitation.
There was only one solution to this dilemma. Trevor had to be told the truth about Mark being his father before one o’clock on Sunday afternoon.
When Emily pulled into her driveway she saw a billow of smoke rising from the rear of the house.
“Oh, my God, the house is on fire,” she shrieked, flinging the car door open.
She ran through the gate to the backyard and around the side of the house, only to stop dead in her tracks. Mark and Trevor were standing by the barbecue grill, waving their arms through the smoke that rose from the wobbly grill. She closed the distance between them, then coughed as she inhaled a mouthful of smoke.
“What—” Emily coughed again, then patted herself on the chest as she took a step backward out of the cloud of smoke. “What is going on here?”
Mark and Trevor emerged from the haze, looked at each other and burst into laughter.
“We were going to surprise you by making dinner ourselves, instead of going out,” Mark said. “We’re grilling hamburgers that have just turned into hockey pucks. I think it probably goes without saying that I’ve never barbecued before.”
“I wouldn’t make it your life’s work if I were you,” Trevor said, blinking several times. “Man, that smoke is wicked.”
Emily smiled. “Well, it’s the thought that counts, gentlemen. I appreciate your efforts.”
“We bought all the trimmings to go with these hamburgers,” Mark said, “and there’s more ground meat in the kitchen that we didn’t kill. Why don’t I just fry some burgers on the stove? That I know I can do.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll go change my clothes.”
Mark swept his gaze over Emily, then did a double take when he reached her feet. “Love the shoes.”
Emily peered down at the black shoe and the brown one. “It’s a new fashion statement. You were out of the country so long, Mark, that you’re not up-to-date on the latest fads here.”
“Yeah, right, Mom.”
“Got some beachfront property in Arizona you want to sell me, Emily?”
“You bet. I’ll be back in a flash.”
“Wait a second, Emily,” Mark said. “I need you to show me where you keep the frying pan. Trevor, to put safety first, stay here until the fire in that monster goes out. I think that’s the best way to handle it, rather than hosing it down.”
“Okay,” Trevor said.
In the kitchen Emily turned to face Mark.
“Thank you for the lovely flowers. I left them at the office because Trevor would go matchmaking nuts if he knew about them. It was so thoughtful of you to send them to me, and what you said on the card was lovely. I…I was afraid that you regretted… What I mean is, well, the flowers spoke for you.”
“I have no regrets about last night, Emily,” Mark said quietly, looking directly into her eyes. “I wanted to let you know that. Do you? Have regrets?”
“No, oh, no, not at all. It was wonderful and… Well, it complicated things, but… No, I’m not sorry that we…you know.”
“Complicated things?” Mark said, frowning.
“Never mind. The frying pan is in the bottom cupboard there at the left of the sink. I’m going to go change into my jeans.”
“Hold it just a minute.”
He glanced out the sliding glass doors leading to the backyard where Trevor was doing push-ups on the grass beyond the smoke from the barbecue grill. He closed the short distance between him and Emily and framed her face in his hands.
“Welcome home,” he said, then lowered his head and kissed her.
It’s great to be here, Emily thought, as her lashes drifted down and heat zinged throughout her. Oh, my stars, to think she hadn’t wanted to come home. Oh, Mark.
Mark broke the kiss and drew a ragged breath. “Whew. You are potent stuff, madam. Go.”
“Gone,” Emily said, then pressed one hand to her forehead for a moment. “Gracious.”
She hurried from the kitchen, and Mark watched her go until she disappeared from his sight.
“Welcome home, my love,” he said, then moved to the proper cupboard and retrieved the frying pan.
A few minutes later, hamburger patties were sizzling in the frying pan on the stove.
Man, this was nice, Mark thought, staring at the browning meat. This was the stuff of which families were made. They came together at the end of the day and everyone pitched in to get dinner on the table. They’d chat as they ate, each sharing their news, caring about how the day had gone for those they loved. This was part of what changed a house into a home.
This was the lifestyle he wanted.
With Emily.
With Trevor.
With a baby in a high chair, merrily banging on the tray with a spoon.
With a dog curled up at his feet and a cat perched on the top of the refrigerator like the king in charge of the whole group.
Oh, yes, this was what he wanted and if he was blessed enough to actually get it, earn it, he’d never again be lonely.
“Fire is out,” Trevor said, coming in the back door. “Well, the one outside is. Why is there so much smoke coming from that frying pan?”
“Oh, cripe,” Mark said, lifting the pan off the burner. “My mind wandered. These burgers are okay, thank goodness. Set the table, buddy.”
Emily returned, dressed in jeans that were slightly too big and a short-sleeved, pink string sweater. A short time later, the trio was consuming their dinner, Emily agreeing to eat a hamburger patty with no bun, five potato chips and yet another salad.
Trevor gave a report on his swimming workout, then Mark said he’d spoken to his friend in New York who worked in the publishing industry.
“He knows an agent he’s going to talk to about my ideas for the book,” Mark said. “In the meantime, I should write a sample chapter, plus a cover letter stating what my credentials are and the general concept of what I plan to put together.”
Plain Jane MacAllister Page 9