She vibrated with gentle laughter against him. “I wouldn’t be misguided enough to think of you as a saint, Marcus Stanfield.” She stressed his last name with a twist of her lips.
“Touché.”
She laughed again, her fingers moving lightly over his chest. The feel of her delicate hand on him brought arousal trickling into Marcus’s belly.
He rolled over, reversing their positions in the bed. His hips pressed into hers, and he swallowed at the thick sensation that moved through him. Diana made an incoherent sound, her nails digging into his biceps. He smoothed strands of hair from her face, admiring the way the fine brown skin looked under the room’s dim lights. Marcus kissed her cheek, her throat.
“I know we need to get back to the party but…”
“Oh, my God! The party!” She blinked quickly, eyes clearing as if waking from a dream. Her soft hands pressed against his chest. “We have to get back.”
That was the last thing he wanted to do, but he released a sigh of regret and kissed her mouth once more.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Marcus showed her to the bathroom, where she quickly showered and got dressed. While she fiddled with her hair and makeup, he took a fast shower of his own. Within twenty minutes, they were both dressed and walking down the stairs toward the party.
But, heading back into the thick of the event he had planned just for her, Marcus couldn’t help but linger on what they had just shared. The rawness and beauty of their bodies coming together—and the truth of his adoption that had come spilling out of him so unexpectedly. He not only wanted her, he also trusted her.
Nothing about his involvement with Diana Hobbes had gone as planned. Nothing. He was both excited and apprehensive about what else was to come. Whatever it was, he hoped that neither of them would regret it.
Chapter 19
Leaving Marcus’s bedroom was like traveling from one world to another. Diana walked at her lover’s side, unable to believe it had only been an hour or two since they’d left the party. The music sounded the same, the people laughing and networking and spending their money all seemed unchanged, but inside she felt…renewed.
Marcus had been a passionate and attentive lover, giving her what she needed again and again, kissing her, telling her how beautiful she was to him while he lifted her body to even greater heights than before. The candlelight, his tenderness, the thoughts he’d shared with her in his bed—all these things made her see him in a new light, made her glad to surrender her suspicion of him and the last of her reluctance to become involved with Quentin Stanfield’s son.
She and Marcus stepped into the vast ballroom where the band played a remix of one of Alice Smith’s songs.
“Marcus, what’s good?”
A slender man emerged from the crowd, dapper in a crisp white dinner jacket with a red handkerchief in the pocket and wearing a pair of tight jeans that showed off muscled thighs and narrow hips. His looks were a watered-down version of Tyson Beckford, not as chiseled but decent enough.
“Garrick.” Marcus greeted the man with a cool nod, his hand at the small of Diana’s back as he prepared to escort her across the room to where Nora stood talking with an older man. “Good to see you,” Marcus said to the man, although he clearly didn’t mean it.
Garrick shook Marcus’s hand, but his gaze immediately turned to Diana. She felt his sudden interest like a physical touch.
“Oh, man.” He glanced between Marcus and Diana. “She’s not your usual style at all, but she’s a hot piece. You want to share her later?”
Marcus stopped dead in the center of the room. “What did you say?” His voice was a shard of glass.
Diana stiffened. “You could never get that lucky,” she said coldly.
Marcus’s hand snapped out and gripped Garrick’s wrist, pressing his hand up and backward. “Apologize to the lady.” His voice was low and dangerous, growling from behind his clenched teeth. “That was uncalled for.”
The man winced in pain, easing forward to try to lessen the agony of Marcus’s grip. “Damn, take it easy! It’s not like you haven’t shared your castoffs before.” At Marcus’s growl, he made another noise. “Sorry, damn! I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Marcus dropped the man’s hand as if it were filth, wiped his palm on his thigh and escorted Diana away.
She could feel the fury in the stiff line of his body. They made their way slowly across the room in silence. Just before they reached Nora, he stopped and pulled her aside.
“I’m sorry about that.” He took a deep, trembling breath. “That shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry you had to deal with it.”
“It’s fine. I deal with worse jerks during my work week.” But the things the man had hinted at, that Marcus passed his women on to other men like cars or discarded clothes, alarmed her.
Marcus shook his head. “Don’t—” He drew another breath, a deeper one that hinted at something he did not want to say. “You’re important to me. You mean… I’ll never expose you to something like that again.” He touched her waist. “Please believe me.”
Diana bit the inside of her lip. “I don’t know—”
“Marcus, I wondered where you’d gone off to.”
Diana looked up at the sound of another male voice. She stiffened, prepared for another verbal assault by a Miami pretty boy, but when she looked up, anything that she had planned to say got stuck in her throat.
“Dad.” Marcus greeted the man who walked across the crowded room toward them. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.” A frown creased his brow as he looked apologetically at Diana.
“Is it all right that I’m here to support my son?” Quentin Stanfield grinned wolfishly as he gripped his son’s hand in a firm handshake and briefly squeezed his shoulder. He turned to Diana.
“Who is this lovely young lady?”
Marcus froze for a moment before he visibly gathered himself. “Dad, this is Diana Hobbes.” He turned to her. “Diana, this is my father, Quentin Stanfield.”
She felt encased in ice, not knowing what to say or do as the man she had hated from afar for so long took her hand in his and pressed his lips to the back of her knuckles. “Enchantée, madame.”
Wearing a hand-tailored pinstriped suit with a paisley tie, he appeared even more powerful in the flesh. The newspaper photos had been flattering but barely showed the strength in his broad shoulders, the fierce glint to the eyes that flashed around the room, completely taking in his surroundings.
Diana clenched her teeth and firmly pulled her hand back. “Mr. Stanfield.”
He seemed oblivious to her coolness, however, as he turned back to his son. “Pardon me for interrupting,” he said. “I didn’t feel like being at home tonight. Aliza is doing the jealous second-wife thing again and breaking all the dishes in the pantry. I can’t deal with that right now.” He looked around the room. “The women here seem sane enough. I just might enjoy one of them for company tonight.”
Diana looked at Marcus, who didn’t seem at all shocked by his father’s planned infidelity and the casual way he spoke for anyone to hear.
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, Dad. Just like everyone else.” He smiled slightly. “Just don’t break any of my dishes while you’re here.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Stanfield.” Diana finally broke through the ice around her throat. “Do you remember my father, Washington Hobbes?” She felt the eyes of both Stanfield men on her.
Quentin Stanfield frowned, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. “No, I don’t. Should I?”
“He used to work in one of your factories. It was many years ago.”
He shook his head. “Then I wouldn’t remember him.”
“You should remember his name. You killed him.” Diana felt her voice rising the more she talked. “You stole his pension, and he killed himself not long after because he couldn’t support his family anymore.”
Quentin Stanfield drew in a swift breath, his ches
t expanding even more. “You are a very presumptuous young woman.”
“My father didn’t raise me to wait until I was acknowledged,” she said coolly.
“According to what you just said, he didn’t raise you at all.”
Diana gasped, surprised at how much his words hurt. She clenched her fists at her side. “You ba—”
“Dad.” Marcus had a hint of steel in his voice.
Quentin Stanfield ignored his son. “I don’t remember anything about your father and his life, Ms. Hobbes, but I can assure you what happened was just business and nothing at all personal. I made my choices and so did your father.” Then he turned to Marcus. “Is this the kind of woman you’re running around with these days, son?”
Diana felt a few gazes turn to the three of them as Quentin Stanfield raised his voice. But most people quickly averted their eyes and pretended to be absorbed in other things. It may have been her imagination, but the music seemed to play a little louder, get more cheerful.
“Yes, I am seeing her these days. She is also a strong woman who I respect,” Marcus said. “I don’t appreciate your tone of voice when you’re speaking to her.”
Diana frowned when she saw a hint of admiration in Quentin Stanfield’s face, a flash of pride. The elder Stanfield looked at her. “It was interesting meeting you, young lady. Perhaps I’ll see you again.” He glanced at his son. “Let’s talk on Monday.” Then he touched Marcus’s shoulder briefly before disappearing into the crowd.
Marcus cursed softly. “I’m sorry about that.” He put his arms around her, holding her close.
Diana looked through the crowd where the older man had gone, feeling her stomach slowly unclench. Quentin Stanfield was truly unrepentant. A hard man who seemed to have little conscience. But meeting and talking with him had brought an odd sort of relief—not only in being able to confront the man who had affected her family’s life so strongly, but also to see how unlike him Marcus was. She released a long breath as she leaned into her lover’s chest.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m okay.”
*
The rest of the night was a blur of networking in the name of Building Bridges. Diana barely had time to think about the encounter with Marcus’s father and what it meant. She held it all at bay until Nora gave her a big hug, grateful to tears for the final total of nearly four hundred thousand dollars that the party managed to raise.
When she looked at her phone at the end of the night, she saw that she had missed two calls from her brother and nearly a dozen text messages from Trish. Her best friend had been in a playful mood, asking in increasingly explicit terms if Diana had managed to sleep with Marcus again. She ignored the X-rated messages and decided to call her brother back the next morning, especially after she listened to his voice mail and found out he only wanted to borrow her car again.
Finally, it was after one in the morning. The last members of the band were walking out the door with their instruments. The house was quiet, most of the lights had been turned down, and the staff had gone to their beds.
Marcus sat at the bottom of the stairs with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his jacket discarded on the steps by his side. He looked beguiling, sexy with his heavy-lidded gold eyes watching her walk tiredly across the ballroom toward him.
“Thank you for staying until the end,” he said.
“Thank you for having this party.” Her heels sounded hollowly against the marble floor as she crossed the empty room.
Marcus held out a hand, palm up. “You should spend the night with me,” he said. “Spend the weekend.” He smiled crookedly.
She put her hand in his, and he pulled her down into his lap. His warm skin held a hint of sandalwood cologne.
“I can’t,” she said, although she was tempted. Diana draped her arm over his shoulder and settled into his hard furnace of a body.
The hour in his bed had given her just a preview of how things could be with him. Passion and tenderness, evening confessions and safe arms to hold her while she slept. Someone to trust.
“Why?” he asked. “Why can’t you be with me? What would you be running back home to?” He trailed light fingers up her bare arm, sending tingles running through her body. “Do you have another man waiting for you? A family I don’t know about? A bunch of little kids?”
She shook her head, smiling. “No. None of those things.”
“Then stay.”
And so she did.
Chapter 20
Diana was the happiest she’d ever been. Functioning on little sleep, she drove home from Marcus’s place with just enough time to get dressed for work and make her breakfast smoothie. She sang softly to herself in the kitchen, her blender growling into the otherwise quiet morning. Her hand drifted to touch her neck as thoughts of Marcus and the days they had spent wrapped in each other took her over.
The weekend with Marcus had been more than she’d ever dreamed. Hours spent indulging in intimate touches, in conversation, laying herself bare to another human being in a way she’d never done before. Marcus had teased her, fed her, loved her so well that she had been reluctant to leave his house and the addictive kisses he gave with as much frequency as she liked. It had been magical.
Even showered and dressed in her day armor of high heels, gray jersey dress and a fall of bright malachite stones around her throat, she felt him. She heard him. The sounds of his deep moans, the filthy things he breathed in her ear as they loved. Diana trembled. Fumbled to turn off the blender before the machine burned itself out. She pressed her thighs together as she unscrewed the blender attachment, then rinsed it under a gush of cool water before dropping it into the top rack of the dishwasher.
Marcus.
Marcus.
Marcus.
She trembled but tried to pull herself together.
Diana looked at her watch. 8:15. She grabbed her smoothie, then her briefcase and purse that were waiting by the door and stepped outside her house, keys jingling in her hand.
She stopped short at the sight of her brother’s car in the driveway. Jason was sitting on her porch swing, a belligerent look on his face. She frowned as she locked the door. “What are you doing here, Jason?”
“You never returned any of my calls. I know you were with him.” He said “him” like he was talking about the devil.
Diana fought a flash of defensiveness, annoyed that he was trying to bring down her buoyant morning. “What do you want?”
Her brother stood up from the swing, sending the bench clanging on its chains. “He screwed you all weekend, and now he’s going to screw you even harder later this week,” Jason said.
A hot tide of embarrassment moved under her skin. “I told you what I do with Marcus is none of your business.”
“Do you even understand what I’m telling you?”
“If you think I don’t, why don’t you make yourself clearer so I can get to work? I don’t want to be late.”
“Your boyfriend is buying up all of Baltree Heights. Soon you won’t have a job to walk to. He’s going to tear down everything on that street to build a condo or some crappy parking garage.”
Diana almost choked on her breath. “What are you talking about?”
Her brother looked impatient with her stupidity. “Marcus Stanfield just bought up all the land in Baltree Heights. He’s not planning on being a landlord to a bunch of people who already pay cheap rent. He’s going to tear everything down and build something that makes him more money.”
“How do you even know that?” She frowned. Her brother would do anything to get Marcus out of her life. “I didn’t know marine-biology students have the ear of real-estate developers in Miami.”
His jaw twitched in anger. “Trish told me.”
“Trish?”
“Yeah. I asked her to check into him for me while you were gone.”
Diana frowned. “Why didn’t she tell me that?”
Jason crossed his arms over his chest in defiance. “If you don
’t believe me, just ask Marcus Stanfield. If he’s not a liar, he’ll tell you what I said is the truth.”
“I can’t deal with this now, Jason,” she said tiredly. “Just leave this alone. Marcus is in my life. It’s time that you and Mom got over that.”
He made a sound of disgust. “I hope it’s worth it for you to betray your family like this. The cost of a few nights in his bed.”
She wanted to slap him. Instead, she clenched her hands into fists and turned away, her shoes stabbing into the pavement with each step. Jason was the youngest of the Hobbes children, but the older he became, the more he acted like the parent, simply because he was the only man in the family. She was sick of it.
But as she walked to the office, his words haunted her. Why would her brother say something like that if it wasn’t true? But would Marcus be so heartless? Building Bridges had become such an important part of her life. Seeing the children they helped being placed in loving homes filled her with so much joy and purpose.
Through her work with Building Bridges, the dissatisfactions from the years without a lover in her bed, of not being able to travel because of work or her obligations to family, had begun to dwindle. There was no way the man Marcus had shown himself to be over the weekend would compromise that. No way.
At Building Bridges, she climbed up the steps onto the porch. It was as if the hurricane had never been. Before their landlord had even gotten the chance to respond, an anonymous donor had sent over workmen and repaired everything during the course of a weekend.
At 9:02, by her watch, she opened the front door to the house and stepped inside. The slow murmurings of a Monday morning greeted her, along with the smell of coffee in the air.
“Good morning, Carla.”
Diana paused at the receptionist’s desk to greet the young girl. Almost completely hiding Carla’s face was a bright bouquet of flowers. Lush purple irises. Pink blushed white lilies. Yellow roses.
They smelled sweet. Something about the combination of scents reminded her suddenly of Marcus’s bedroom. A flutter moved through her stomach at the thought of him, a pleasant counterpoint to the worry she’d tortured herself with on the walk to work.
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