by Mara Jacobs
At Cole’s tentative probing about Declan and Marlee, Declan alluded to this feeling of knowing Marlee previously. It wasn’t a past life thing—Declan didn’t believe in that—more of a comfort he felt with Marlee. Cole had understood, had even mentioned he’d felt something similar the night he’d met Anna.
Although Cole had married Anna on the night they’d met, and Declan wasn’t thinking beyond spending this week with Marlee.
But his feelings were kind of like that throw on Marlee’s wooden rocking chair—it looked new, but was like the blanket that you’d wrap around yourself when you were a kid. Soft, familiar, comfortable. Not that it was easy with Marlee; she kept him on his toes both intellectually and most definitely physically, but it was comfortable.
Marlee’s slender fingers traced the frames. “Most live here or nearby. I have two older sisters and one younger brother. The sisters are in the Boston area, both married with kids. The brother is in New York. He’s single, no kids. My parents recently retired and they’re in Florida for the winter, but they still have the house we grew up in—it’s only a short drive from here.”
“What did your parents retire from?”
“You mean besides the Boston winters?”
Declan smiled, glad that Marlee was being so light with him. Because of what he’d taken as her internal struggle to enter into a short-term fling with him, he thought she might be having buyer’s remorse by now. Or worse, outright guilt. Declan had every intention of seeing Marlee all he could for the next week. Getting inside her warm body every chance he could. He didn't want to deal with having to coax her for an encore. He took from her tone that coaxing wouldn’t be necessary.
“Yes, besides that.”
“They were both professors at Boston College. Mom philosophy and dad chemistry.”
“Apple doesn’t fall far, and all that?”
“I guess. Academic life was all I knew, and it fits me well. How about you, Declan, what do your parents do? Brothers? Sisters?”
It was refreshing to meet someone that knew nothing about him. His background had been such an open book for so long. How many covers of Sports Illustrated had he graced over the years? Declan gave Marlee the condensed version of his youth.
Oldest child of three raised on a working farm in central Ohio. His dad had placed a football in Declan’s hand at twenty months, and, the legend has it, he threw it nearly thirty yards. His father encouraged Declan’s passion, but never pushed. His fondest memories were of playing catch with his father alongside the barn after the evening chores. They’d still done that whenever Declan went home. He had won two Super Bowl rings, but the only times he ever choked up was when he replayed the sweet memories of him and his dad.
“My father died two years ago. Car accident. That’s when I started seriously thinking about retiring.”
Marlee wound her arm around Declan’s waist and gave him her warmth. “I’m so sorry, Declan. And your mother?”
Declan put his arms around Marlee and pulled her close, taking the comfort she offered. “Thanks. My mom’s still on the farm. My youngest brother took it over—had intended to all along. He does a great job with it, too. He and his wife have three rugrats, and they’re now enjoying the life I loved growing up.”
He instinctively reached for his wallet to show Marlee the photos of his nieces and nephews, then realized he’d taken it from his jeans earlier to get a condom. And then later to get another one. The wallet was somewhere on the bedroom floor along with his socks, underwear, and every stitch that Marlee had been wearing.
“My sister and her husband live in Ohio too. Not far from the farm. They have two children. My niece made that scarf of mine you’re wearing. Mom’s in Grandma heaven, having them all so close to her.”
“And you? Will you be adding to her nirvana?”
“Someday, sure. Definitely. I didn’t want to think about it until now. Once I was off the road. I want to see my kids grow up, not just phone home to hear the latest.
“What about you, Marlee? Have you decided that your career and an occasional affair are enough to make you happy?”
There was no judgment in his voice, and yet Marlee bristled at the “occasional affair” remark. Of course that was what Declan would think of her. Could she really blame him? She was climaxing against a door after knowing him a day. She supposed all the women in Declan’s life could be lumped into the same pile. Was she any different? Yes. Because she wasn’t after Declan for anything more than tonight. And maybe tomorrow night. Oh, hell, for the whole week if she could manage it. Then Declan would be in New York and she’d get on with her life.
She backed away from his embrace and moved toward the arched entryway leading to the kitchen. “Funny you should ask. I’ve just recently decided that I indeed ‘want to have it all,’ whatever that means. Meeting Prince Charming, marriage, baby carriage, the whole nine yards.” Marlee was surprised at her candor. She knew her intentions, but she hadn’t shared them with anyone else.
After having been burned two years ago, she learned to keep her love life to herself. Or lack of love life.
First, she didn’t want her friends’ and family’s pity if she never found a man she wanted to marry. She had thought about having a child without a husband. She wavered on that one, intending to put off that decision until she had thrown in the towel on the idea of a traditional marriage and family. Her clock was ticking, but at this point it was ticking softly.
Second, she didn’t want those same friends and family making it their sole mission in life to find Marlee a husband. If it didn’t happen for her, it didn’t happen. She was very fulfilled in her career and could always bestow all her maternal yearnings upon her nieces and nephews. They already added so much to her life, brought her tremendous joy.
“So we’re both at the point in our lives where we want to settle down and have a family? Hhhmm, maybe we should take a look at that, Marlee,” he said with a light, almost teasing tone.
“Yeah. Right,” she snorted. She entered the kitchen and turned on the light.
A stunned Declan followed behind.
Declan felt like he’d just been sacked by a three-hundred-pound defensive tackle. What was so funny about the idea? He’d said it lightly, so as to not scare Marlee off, but he hadn’t intended for her to laugh. She had snorted, for Christ’s sake. Did she think she could do that much better than him? They’d just proven they were compatible in the bedroom. Way compatible. Their upbringings were similar, their homes were nearly identical. Was she still deluding herself with the idea that they were total opposites?
Declan was about to make her see the light when he stopped himself. What are you going to do then? Prove to her how much you have in common, how good you’d be together, how it could be more than just a week-long fling? That maybe they should seriously consider the possibility of a relationship? Then what? You get on a plane Sunday morning, and you have no idea what the next few weeks will hold, let alone the next few years.
He hadn’t lied when he’d told Marlee he was ready to settle down. But he needed to get his ducks in a row first. It would probably take one to two years before he truly had a handle on his future. He figured that if he did get on with a network, he would probably have to spend the first few years on the road, covering games. Eventually, he could work his way into a studio job, doing pre-game stuff. Maybe sitting next to Terry and Howie.
Could he ask Marlee to wait that long before entering into a permanent relationship? Would she, even if he asked her to? Her snort was probably all the answer he needed. Besides, Declan knew it wasn’t fair, but he had no clock by which becoming a father was set. Marlee wanted kids, she couldn’t realistically wait several years to begin a relationship with Declan, even though she was only thirty. Not that she’d even entertain the idea of something between them.
Boy, that snort had really gotten to him. But there was no sense dredging up what-ifs for something that couldn’t happen.
“My God, I�
��ve died and gone to Cuisinart heaven,” he murmured as he entered Marlee’s kitchen. It was state of the art, and like her living room, was almost identical in style and layout to his. “This is great. I love it.”
“Thank you. I love it too. It’s my baby. It took me several years to get it just the way I want it. It’s probably my favorite room in the house, the place I look most forward to when I get home.”
The counters were a deep gray marble with flecks of green throughout. All the appliances were stainless steel and the cupboards all had glass doors. It was very organized, but every square inch of space on the counters was covered with gadgets. Bread maker, food processor, espresso machine. An island housed the oven and stovetop, and was done in the same marble.
Above it, steel pans hung from a scaffolding that was attached to the ceiling. Kitchen gadgets seemed to be Marlee’s vice.
“Hey, you’ve got that new pasta maker. I’ve been meaning to pick that up. Have you used it? Do you love it? Is it better than the older model?”
“Yes. I do. And yes, it is better.” Marlee was obviously startled to see Declan’s enjoyment of her kitchen. He could see her puzzled look directed toward him, as if she was wondering if there was more to Declan Tate than just the body she’d just enjoyed.
He twirled around the room, taking another look. “I can cook for you this week after all. I’ll just use your kitchen.” He turned to look at her. “Or are you territorial?”
“Well, yes, usually. But you don’t seem to be an amateur, so…I’ll let you play in my sandbox.”
Declan gave her a sly grin. “Yes indeedy, I do like playing in your box.” He moved toward her, then, as if remembering what had brought them downstairs, veered toward her refrigerator. Quench that hunger first, then deal with the other one.
The hunger for Marlee.
He did sate himself, with both food and Marlee, well into the night.
Chapter Nine
In the shower the next morning, Marlee noticed her body still bore the signs of Declan’s loving. Reddened places on her body where his stubble had rubbed. Sensitive places internally where other parts of him had rubbed.
To be filled by Declan had been an experience like no other. Remembering that man, a warrior, a gladiator, a man who battled men three times his size, pounding into her with such a tender ferocity put Marlee on the brink of yet another orgasm as her hands slid over her body.
Regretfully, she pulled herself out of the bliss of remembering the previous night. She needed to get a move on if she wanted to be to the studio by ten.
She didn’t have to be, she made her own schedule for this week, but she wanted to get right to work. She was excited about the additions she’d made yesterday with Declan’s help. She wanted to quickly incorporate them into her speech and then practice the whole thing at least twice. Then it would be Declan’s turn to practice.
The thought of getting that gorgeous man on camera intoxicated her. She knew he had one of those faces that would photograph even better than he looked in person. And that was saying a lot; to top how good he looked up close and personal.
As she washed, Marlee’s skin felt raw and sensitive. She felt no guilt from the previous evening’s wantonness, only surprise. Surprise that she’d been so responsive to Declan’s touch, to his kisses, to the words he used to take her higher. Surprise that she could give as good as she got, and Declan had seen that she’d definitely gotten. Surprise that being with Declan had seemed so natural to her, that they had quickly behaved as long-time lovers. And mostly, surprise at the yearning she felt to continue this affair.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she’d harbored the thought that one night with Declan might cure her of this attraction. That they would mutually combust, taking with them this affinity they felt for each other’s bodies. They’d combusted, all right. But instead of the flames burning themselves out, they only seemed to increase. At least for Marlee. She wouldn’t assume that Declan felt what she did, though it sure seemed like he did. And he had made definite plans to see her again, only if it was for business reasons.
Declan had nudged her awake very early in the morning.
“I need to go to the hotel and change. I’ve got to meet the insurance people and the contractor at my house at eight. I don’t know how long that will take, but I’ll come to the studio right after. I’ll bring us some lunch. I’m leaving my cell number on the dresser for you in case you need to get a hold of me before then. Do you have a way I can get a hold of you in the studio if my meetings run long?”
Marlee, barely audible, still nearly asleep, gave Declan her cell phone number, which he copied down and put in his jeans.
“Guess I’ll have a phone number in my pants today, won’t I. Man, do those women ever stop?”
Marlee moaned to show her acknowledgement of the joke and then showed Declan what she thought of his humor—by flipping him the bird. She flopped her arm back down; she hadn’t even raised her head or looked at Declan.
“Marlee Reeves, Ph.D., flipping me off. Unbelievable.” Declan chuckled, kissed the top of Marlee’s head, told her to go back to sleep, and quietly left her bedroom.
By one in the afternoon, Marlee felt confident that the suggestions Declan had made the day before would fit seamlessly into her lecture. She was also comfortable with the football terms, and that was key. Like Declan had said, people would spot a phony a mile off. He’d not only told her what would be appropriate, but explained exactly what each bit of jargon meant. That, coupled with the full-body demonstrations last night in bed, made her knowledge of the game almost passable. She made a final jot in her notes and then placed them in her bag. She was surprised Declan wasn’t there yet. Her stomach rumbled, as if to agree with her.
Her cell phone rang and she rummaged through her satchel to find it. Probably Declan canceling, she thought. Then she wondered why she had instinctively thought he’d be canceling? He’d seemed eager to see her later when he’d left her bed this morning, had even joked with her. And even if he was canceling, where was this insecurity of hers coming from?
But she knew exactly where it came from.
“Hello.”
“Marlee, it’s Declan.”
Just hearing his voice sent a tremble through her. She could close her eyes and hear that voice, low and gravelly, whispering in her ear, telling her when to come, as he’d done last night. She pulled herself away from her reverie and quickly tried to discern the tone of his voice. Business voice? A canceling voice? A last-night-was-great-but-you’re-not-as-good-as-the-thousands-of-women-I’ve-been-with-so-sayanora voice? Did she get any of that from his simple three words? It didn’t even occur to Marlee to temper her response to fit him, even if she could figure out his tone. She’d never learned to play the games that most women did, had thought they were asinine anyway.
“Hi, Declan.”
“Listen, I’m stuck here at my house. This is taking a lot longer than I thought. There’s more damage than anybody realized. I’m going to be here all afternoon, then I need to swing by the hotel and drop off the rest of my clothes for this week and the stuff I want to take to New York. I might as well take it all over there now, then I can leave the cleaning and repairs crew to it and not have to disturb them later in the week.”
“I’m sorry it was worse than you thought. How disappointing.”
“Yeah. So, lunch is obviously out. And it looks like I won’t get to the studio before five, so me working with the camera is out today too.”
Here it comes, she thought. Next he’ll tell you where he has to be tomorrow, so he can’t make it then, and that he’ll call. Then that would be it—she’d never see him again.
Marlee’s spirits fell. Buck up, she told herself. You wanted one night with Declan and you got it. You were just being greedy hoping for more. He wasn’t the type to be with the same woman for any length of time. Apparently that length even applied to a week.
She steeled herself for what Declan would say next, h
ow he would get out of seeing her again. At least she’d gotten the stuff she needed for her lecture. She should be happy with that. That and one night of incredible sex with Declan.
“Here’s what I’m thinking…Marlee, you still there?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. I should be done around four. Why don’t I go do some grocery shopping, meet you at your place when you’re done, and cook you the best dinner you’ve ever had?”
The elation that ripped through Marlee scared her. She shouldn’t be that excited that Declan wanted to see her again. But she was. So much so that the next thing out of her mouth came as a complete shock to her.
“Declan, why don’t you stay with me this week, instead of a hotel?” She almost dropped her phone. Had she really just asked him to stay with her? Seconds ago she was waiting for a brush-off, and now she’d just invited Declan to be a guest in her home.
He’d probably received dozens of offers from the women who’d been at his house when he returned the night of the fire. He hadn’t taken any of them up on it—what made her think he would accept her offer. And did she really want him to accept?
Yes. The idea of waking up beside Declan every morning this week thrilled her.
Declan’s hesitation on the phone mirrored her doubts. She began mentally stammering, trying to figure out how to give Declan an out.
“Marlee…that would be great. That would help out a lot. I wasn’t looking forward to spending this week in a hotel when I’m going to be in one all of next week too. I get pretty sick of hotels by the end of the season.”
“Okay. So my house a little after five?”
“Deal. Are you sure you don’t mind me staying with you? Because the hotel’s fine, really.”
“I don’t mind. It makes sense. I’m only a few minutes from the studio, so you can easily get here when you want to work with the camera.”