Husband: Some Assembly Required

by Marie Ferrarella

  Afraid that the table could give way beneath them, Murphy took her into his arms and lowered her to the floor. His eyes never leaving hers, he slid the length of his body over her, absorbing every soft nuance.

  He wanted to hold back just a little longer, but he hadn’t the strength, not when she flowed through his hands like hot sin.

  She’d never seen the kind of passion she saw in his eyes. It made her want to weep. No one had ever wanted her this way. She had never wanted anyone the way she did him.

  Shawna raised her arms to him, urging him forward, ready to accept him. Ready to be taken to places she’d only so recently discovered. Places that only he could lead the way to.

  Murphy heard a groan ripple through the air and knew it was his. There was an ache in his body, in his very soul, and it belonged to her. As he did.

  He’d pursued her on a whim and become captured of his own volition. She held him prisoner and he hadn’t the strength to free himself.

  He had only the strength to enjoy.

  Fatal words suddenly sprang to his mind, words that would seal his fate. His doom. He kept them silent as he entered her, sheathing himself in salvation.

  Unable to stop them, he muffled the words against her neck when they refused to remain confined any longer.

  “I love you.”

  Shawna’s eyes flew open. She heard, heard and hugged the words to her. Though she longed to echo them back, she understood that for now, she couldn’t. Murphy would only take them back with a laugh if she did.

  But they were hers and she silently rejoiced.

  The tempo of their bodies increased, going faster and faster until all the barriers were broken.

  Until the stardust rained on them both.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It wasn’t cooling off, Murphy thought as he hurried to get ready. He’d overslept again and when he’d gotten up, it had taken him a few minutes to focus his eyes. It seemed to be taking longer and longer each morning, but that could just be his imagination.

  What wasn’t his imagination was that Shawna was lingering in the recesses of his mind, haunting his thoughts whenever he wasn’t with her. No, it definitely wasn’t cooling off, this feeling he had for the good doctor. This all-consuming passion. If anything, it was heating up.

  Murphy broke off a piece of pastry and quickly ate it. He didn’t have time for breakfast this morning. So, what else was new? He needed to get organized on the home front. In more ways than one.

  More than a month had gone by and he was still putting things off. Putting off admitting that he needed an operation. Worse, putting off admitting that he couldn’t walk away from his feelings for Shawna.

  Both shimmered obstinately before him as he hunted for his keys, demanding attention. Demanding that he face up to them.

  But how could he? To admit one was to put his mortality on the line; to admit the other was to risk everything else. His heart, his very soul.

  Hadn’t he already learned that to place his fate in the hands of someone else was the absolute essence of stupidity? How could he just wait around to see if she would crumple his world the way Janice had?

  The answer was, he couldn’t.

  Shawna wasn’t like Janice, but he had once felt that there was no one like Janice, either. He had trusted Janice, placed his heart into her hands. He had believed that they could have a life together that was as precious as what his parents had had. As special as what both his sisters had with their husbands.

  Surprise.

  Murphy lifted up a section of yesterday’s paper on the coffee table and found his keys. Clutching them in his hand, he went to collect his briefcase from the hall table.

  He was a shrewd lawyer, he thought as he entered the garage, but he was a lousy judge of women. Murphy tossed his briefcase into the car through the open front passenger window.

  And yet, he couldn’t keep away from Shawna, either. He found himself rearranging his life to make time for her, accompanying her to the clinic whenever it was feasible. It wasn’t even a matter of going along to protect her. Mount had taken care of that. The man had put out the word—hands off the clinic. People came and went to the clinic in safety now.

  No, Murphy went to the clinic with Shawna for the same reason he showed up at her office after hours. For the same reason he’d pick up the phone and call her at odd times during the day, in the middle of studying a brief, or after a session with a client. Just to hear the sound of her voice and have it curl like smoke in his belly.

  In his mind’s eye he saw her the way she’d been last night, nude and supple in his arms, flowing through his hands like quicksilver. Like a dream that would fade when he woke up.

  Murphy sighed as he got in behind the wheel.

  The quicksand was no longer up to his hips. It was up to his throat now, and he was sinking fast. The more he resisted, the deeper he was pulled in.

  Something was going to have to be done before he made a mistake that could wind up haunting him for the rest of his life. Murphy took out the garage-door opener from the glove compartment. He aimed it at the door behind him. The wide door slowly creaked open, reminding him that he was supposed to have oiled the hinges a week ago. It sounded like someone emerging from the crypt. One hand on the wheel, Murphy turned around, prepared to back the car out.

  There was a woman standing in the middle of his driveway. From the looks of it, she had been standing there for at least a couple of minutes. She appeared to be waiting for him.

  Carefully Murphy eased the car halfway down the driveway. As the car idled, he pressed the garage-door opener and the door closed with a mournful protest. Tonight he’d definitely oil that thing before it set his teeth on edge.

  The woman smiled at him as she stepped forward again, moving closer to his car. “Hi. I was going to ring your doorbell, but then I heard the noise in the garage and thought that you were probably leaving for work.”

  Murphy lowered his window farther. He didn’t recognize her. “Can I help you?”

  The woman, small and pleasant, looking a little like the cherub that his mother hung on their family Christmas tree, shook her head. Her brown eyes fairly gleamed. “Oh, you’ve already done far more for me than you could possibly imagine.”

  He didn’t have time for this, but he didn’t like mysteries and he hated to leave things hanging. Murphy turned off the ignition. Opening his door, he got out. He towered over the petite woman.

  Murphy squinted against the early-morning sun and against the sharp slash of pain that was capriciously dancing across his brow.

  “Do I know you?” Scrutinizing her face nudged a vague memory forward. A woman on the lawn, talking to a neighbor while her little girl played with a stuffed dog. “Wait a minute, I do. You’re the woman—”

  “Whose child you saved.” The dark brown head bobbed up and down enthusiastically. “Yes. I’m sorry I haven’t come by until now, but we’ve been staying in a motel, waiting for the damages to our house to be repaired.” She licked her lips, pausing for air. “I know that’s no excuse, but things do have a way of getting away from you.”

  Speaking of which, he thought, glancing at his watch, time was ticking away. He had to cut her short. “You don’t owe me—”

  The woman laid a hand on his arm. “But I do, I do. I can’t begin to tell you how much.” Her eyes suddenly clouded. “You have no idea how much.”

  Murphy heard the hitch in her voice. Oh, God, she was going to cry. He quickly took out his handkerchief and offered it to her.

  She accepted it gratefully, looking a little chagrined. She dabbed at her eyes and then drew in a long breath.

  “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, and here I am, getting mascara all over your handkerchief.” Composing herself, Marion Reynolds returned Murphy’s handkerchief to him. “It’s just that I become so emotional whenever I think of what might have—” Her voice broke again.

  She waved away his handkerchief when he offered it again. Murphy tucked it
into his pocket. “Life is full of ‘might haves,’ Mrs. Reynolds.” He congratulated himself on remembering her name. “It’s the ‘what is’ that is important.” Great philosophy, he mocked himself, for a man who keeps ducking out on “what is.”

  Mrs. Reynolds nodded vigorously, as if she had just been privy to a great revelation. “Yes, and because of you, my daughter ‘is.’” She beamed at him. “And so is my husband.”

  She had completely lost him. “I don’t understand. I only rescued your daughter.”

  Her eyes shone with gratitude. “You did more than that, you rescued my marriage.”

  Murphy drew his brows together. “How—?”

  “We were separated, Jimmy and I, and very probably on our way to a divorce.” She shrugged helplessly. “You know how things can fall apart on you without you even noticing that it’s happening.” There was genuine regret in her voice, but in the next moment she had swept it away. “But after he heard about the fire and thought about just how close he’d come to really losing both of us, Jimmy realized how much he loved Suzanne and me.”

  Marion paused for a moment, wanting to get the next phrase just right. The way her husband had said it to her. “How much he wanted to be there, to share every day with us.” The woman squared her shoulders. “Jimmy said that you don’t fully appreciate what you have until you almost lose it.”

  She looked at Murphy, her eyes bright. “That’s what you’ve done for us, Mr. Pendleton. You’ve not only saved my baby, you’ve also brought us all together again. I just wanted to make sure that you knew. And I wanted to personally thank you for risking your life.”

  Touched, he smiled down at the woman. “You’re very welcome.”

  Concern entered her eyes as she cocked her head, remembering. She chewed on her lower lip, undecided whether to mention this or not. “There weren’t any serious aftereffects from that bump on the head, were there?”

  Lady, you have no idea.

  He shook his head very slowly. There was a hazy pain setting in, red, like a blazing sunset in the western sky. “None to speak of.”

  She looked relieved. “That’s good, because I would have hated to think that you were permanently hurt in some way....”

  So would I.

  He was getting maudlin, he thought. It wasn’t like him. Murphy placed a hand on the car door.

  The motion wasn’t wasted on Marion. “Well, I know I must be keeping you. Like I said, I just wanted to come by and tell you how very grateful I am. How very grateful we all are,” she amended.

  She began to back away, then stopped. “We’ll be back in the house in another week, according to the contractor.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Although you know how they always miscalculate. They’re all probably related to weathermen. Anyway, please come by and see us when we do get back. I know Suzanne will want to thank you herself.” The woman grinned. “She thinks of you as this superhero who came whooshing in to save her.”

  Murphy laughed at the idea.

  “Well, then, I’ll definitely come by to see her,” he promised as he got into the car. He wondered if the highway patrol was out in force today or if he could bend the speed limit a little. He was going to need to make up for the lost time. “It’s nice to have someone think of you as a superhero.”

  “She’s not the only one,” Marion assured him warmly as she waved goodbye.

  * * *

  “Mother, I’m going to be late,” Shawna protested, hurrying into her shoes. She was holding a cup of coffee in her hand. The contents were sloshing over the side as she moved, sprinkling coffee on the kitchen floor in her wake.

  She had no patients to see in the hospital this morning and no surgery scheduled until one. But there were still office appointments to keep, and her patience was running a little thin. Judging by her behavior last night, her mother had gone back to her old ways.

  “Yes, I know.” Sally clamped a surprisingly strong hand around her daughter’s wrist, immobilizing Shawna and sending another small wave of coffee toward the floor. Shawna sighed as she looked at it. The floor was getting all the coffee that she needed.

  “But I just have to tell you,” Sally insisted. She looked as if she was bursting with enthusiasm. “It’ll only take a minute.”

  Shawna sincerely doubted it, but she stopped moving and looked at her mother expectantly. She had waited up for Sally until two this morning. She’d finally given up and gone to bed, upbraiding herself for being concerned. It wasn’t as if this was something new. While she was growing up there had been many nights when Sally hadn’t come home until the wee hours of the morning.

  It was just that this time she’d thought her mother had finally turned over a new leaf. She should have known better.

  Shawna sighed as she set the now almost empty mug on the table. “All right, Mother, I’m listening. What’s this big thing you have to tell me?”

  Sally smiled, then suddenly looked shy as she hesitated.

  Shawna frowned. This wasn’t like her mother. Sally Rowen could talk the ears off a brass monkey without half trying. She laid her hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

  Sally shook her head, her long, dangling earrings sweeping along her shoulders, dusting along Shawna’s hand. “No, everything’s right. Fine. Wonderful.” The volume of her voice swelled with each word, then fell. “It’s just that now that you’re listening, I’m not sure how to say this.”

  Concern tightened its grip. She scrutinized her mother’s face, trying to divine the answer. “Something is wrong.”

  “No,” Sally corrected gently, “I think for the first time in my life, everything’s perfect.”

  Oh, God, not again. Shawna sighed. “You met another man.” She had thought that her mother was going out with Simon McGuire last night, but she’d obviously been wrong.

  “No. I met the right man.” Sally’s face softened until she almost looked like a teenager. A very smitten teenager, Shawna thought, growing anxious despite herself. “And he’s asked me to marry him.”

  Shawna felt tension taking over and cautioned herself against it. Her mother was a grown woman. This was none of her concern. And yet, it was. It always would be. “Who?”

  Sally looked confused. Hadn’t Shawna been paying attention? “Why, Simon, of course.”

  Shawna stared. She wasn’t altogether certain that her mouth hadn’t dropped open. There was no “of course” about it. Simon McGuire was a respected, levelheaded, kindly grandfather. Kindly grandfathers didn’t ask women they’d known a little over a month to marry them. Did they?

  “Dr. McGuire asked you to marry him?”

  If Sally noticed the note of incredulity in her daughter’s voice, she gave no indication. “Yes. Last night. This morning, really.”

  Shawna could tell that her mother was far and away by the dreamy look upon her face.

  “We were sitting in that lovely little gazebo overlooking the ocean.” Her eyes turned toward Shawna, as if trying to pull her into the scene. “You know, the one in Laguna Beach. The really romantic one.” Her sigh underlined her description. “I was chilly, so he slipped his arm around me to keep me warm. He really can keep a girl warm, you know,” she confided.

  Before Shawna could answer that, no, she didn’t know, Sally had sprinted down another length.

  “That’s when he said that I made him feel so young, so alive again.” To Shawna’s amazement her mother actually blushed. “And he told me that he didn’t want to ever lose that feeling. Or me.”

  Sally was twisting her hands together, her fingers knotting as if she were pressing the sensation back inside her, afraid that it would escape. She looked down at them as if she’d never seen them before and whispered softly, “I said there was no chance of that.”

  Her head shot up as if she’d suddenly been injected. And she had been, with joy. Sally took both her daughter’s hands in hers, attempting to transfuse the sensation. Everyone should feel like this. All of the time.

  S
ally couldn’t remember when she’d been happier. “And then he said he wanted to be sure. That was when he asked me to marry him.”

  Odd, but she was already getting used to it. “And you said yes.”

  A wide grin split her mother’s carefully made-up face. The answer had been a foregone conclusion. “I said yes.”

  Her mother had been down this path several times, and though Shawna thought that McGuire was a wonderful man, doubt nibbled at her. This woman, flighty, impossible, nomadic, was still her mother, and she cared about her a great deal. Shawna didn’t want to see Sally hurt for any reason.

  “Are you sure, Mother? Are you very sure?” She held up her hand as her mother opened her mouth. “Before you answer, remember your track record.”

  A self-deprecating smile curved her mouth. “Not a very pretty one, is it?”

  She’d been the one to raise the point, but now that it was out in the open, Shawna felt a twinge of remorse. “That depends on your point of view. Compared to a couple of well-known movie stars, you’re a piker.”

  But there was another way to look at it. “Compared to the average woman, I’m a loser.”

  Shawna took hold of her mother’s shoulders. There was compassion in her eyes as well as love. “You could never be compared to the average woman, Mother.”

  Sally came to life like a newly watered flower. “That’s what I like about you, Shawna, you’re so loyal.” Her expression sombered around the edges as realization entered her eyes. There was so much to make up for. A whole lifetime. “Oh, God, Shawna. I did make such a mess of my life. And yours. You were always the one who could pull all the pieces together, not me.” Holding Shawna’s hands in hers, Sally stood back and admired what she had had only a small hand in creating. “Although I have to say, you turned out beautifully despite my influence.”

  Shawna wouldn’t have said she was shocked, but she was very close to it. “Do you mean that?”

  “Yes.”

  A smile slowly lifted the corners of Shawna’s mouth, as slowly as the beam of light filtering through her being. She would have thought herself beyond that. But parental approval at any age, she thought, meant a lot. “You know, that’s the first time you ever told me you were proud of me.”