Tangled Destinies

by Diana Palmer

  The Smiths offered to take him home, but Marc wouldn’t let them leave. Lana didn’t volunteer to come with them, muttering something about men who couldn’t hold their liquor, and then quickly apologizing, but not before Marc got a glimpse of her true opinion of his brother. He got Joe into the car, and Gaby sat beside him, taciturn and uncommunicative.

  “I suppose he’s done this with you a lot?” Marc said on the way back to the beach house in the little VW.

  “No.”

  “He likes booze,” he said, lighting a cigarette while he drove. The night seemed sultry and quiet to Gaby as they wound along the beach, past the beach houses toward their own. “He always has. He’ll go on the wagon for a while, then he’ll fall off it.” He glanced her way. “He’s vulnerable with you. When you ignore him, he hits the sauce. If you care anything about him, you’ll stop bouncing him around.”

  She caught her breath. “Bouncing him around? For heaven’s sake, I’m with him from dawn until midnight every day. I try to keep him cheered up!”

  “Not in bed.”

  She glared at him. “What I do in bed is none of your business.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t sleep around,” he said chidingly.

  “I don’t,” she said.

  “Anyway, you can’t be blind enough not to see that you’re a bad influence on him. He’s deteriorating day by day. I’m becoming very worried about him.”

  “You spend your whole life trying to protect him from the world, don’t you, Marc? That’s half his problem now. As to my part in it, what do you want me to do, stop seeing him?”

  He just stared at her. “I wonder if that would solve anything?” He sighed. He shook his head. “It was an unlucky day when you walked into his life.”

  “At least Joe doesn’t seem to think so,” she said tersely.

  She jerked her head back toward the ocean and kept it there until he parked in the garage.

  He picked up Joe, as if the younger man weighed nothing, and carried him to bed. Gaby went into the living room while Marc undressed his brother and put him in bed. She was standing at the picture window that overlooked the ocean when he joined her.

  “He’ll be all right,” Marc said. “A good night’s sleep is all he needs, but he won’t be up early. None of them will, after what they’ve put away tonight.” He lit another cigarette. “I’ve noticed that you hardly ever drink. Why?”

  “My mother used to do enough for both of us,” she said tersely.

  He stared out the window at a patch of white, foaming surf illuminated by a light from the house. “I never liked your mother,” he said curtly. “She and I would have bumped heads if I’d been around her very much.”

  Her face tightened. “You only saw her once, didn’t you? When she paid you off?”

  His eyes burned down into hers. “You’ll throw that in my face one time too many. Okay, so I took a bribe. Did anybody ever tell you that I paid the money back?”

  Her legs shifted. “No,” she said after a long pause.

  “Well, I did. With interest.” He turned away, dark and exquisitely masculine, and the scent of him caught in her nostrils, seducing her. She closed her eyes against it.

  “You might have told me,” she said, feeling very unsure of herself.

  “Why bother? You and I are a dead item. I’ve got a woman now, haven’t you noticed?”

  “She’s hard to miss, Marc, since she clings like glue to your arm,” Gaby said as sweetly as she could.

  “Wishing you were in her place?” he said, taunting her. “In my arms in bed at night?”

  “Damn you!”

  He liked that reaction. He laughed softly, his eyes shining with triumph. “Jealous, aren’t you, even now?”

  “Don’t get a big head,” she said hotly. “You’re assuming too much. I’m here with Joe, not you.”

  “You wouldn’t be here with Joe except that it gets you near me,” he accused. “You haven’t forgotten what it was like that last time we were together. You were crazy with it, begging me.”

  “You conceited ass,” she burst out. “I was a child! Don’t expect that you’d ever get that far again.”

  “You shouldn’t challenge me like that, Gaby. I might decide to prove you wrong.”

  “I wouldn’t hold my breath,” she shot back. “And shouldn’t you be getting back to Lana? She might get the wrong idea if you hang around here with me!”

  “Lana doesn’t own me. No woman ever will.”

  “I believe that. Love is the only way one person can own another, and you’re immune. How well I know!”

  “Say whatever you want. But if I offered you a night in my arms, I’d lay odds that you’d come running.”

  She well might, but he wasn’t going to know it. “Really?”

  “We’ll see, won’t we?” he asked musingly. “Good night, honey. Sleep well.”

  That was funny. She watched him leave, aching as she thought of him with Lana. She took two aspirin, went to bed and surprised herself by going straight to sleep.

  The next morning she was aware of surf crashing when she awoke barely after dawn. She smiled without opening her eyes as the sound seemed to come closer and closer. She stretched, her body bare except for her sheer, lacy nightgown, feeling the sea breeze like a sweet caress. She didn’t care for air-conditioning, so she’d turned it off and opened the patio door the night before to let the sea breeze cool her heated skin. Now it felt like heaven whispering over her.

  She moved, enjoying the feeling of lying bare on the crisp, clean sheets, when she became aware of a movement.

  Her eyes opened, and Marc was there in the doorway of the patio, wearing white swimming trunks, his chest and bronzed shoulders bare and gleaming with water. He looked at her, as if he could hardly believe what he was seeing.

  She sat up, drawing the sheet up with her. “What are you doing here?” she managed to ask, her voice a frightened whisper.

  “It isn’t wise to leave the patio door open at night. We’re not that safe here,” he said. “There are some wild people on this stretch of beach occasionally, and they’ve been known to trespass.”

  “I didn’t know,” she said. “I’ll keep the door locked from now on. I just liked the sound of the sea, and it was hot.”

  “Use the air conditioner,” he suggested.

  “I don’t like air-conditioning.” She shifted, disliking the way her body reacted to that pointed stare where she was clutching the sheet against her breasts. “I’ll open a window instead.”

  But he didn’t leave. He simply stared at her hungrily, with an expression she remembered all too well.

  “Won’t Lana miss you?” she asked, trying to sound as sharp as possible.

  “Lana, like the rest of my guests, is still asleep. What’s wrong, Gaby, afraid of me?” he asked on a laugh, moving into the room, all sensuous grace and raw power in his hair-roughened near nudity. “You shouldn’t have thrown out that challenge last night, you know. It was damned near irresistible.”

  “You’ll manage to resist it,” she said with a real lack of confidence, her heart beating wildly as he approached the bed. “You always did.”

  “Ah, but you were a baby then,” he replied. He stood beside the bed, hands on his lean hips, his legs slightly apart in a stance that promised trouble. His face was an arrogant mask, so dark that it was like a bronzed sculpture. “You’re not that little girl anymore.”

  Her nails dug into the sheet. “I came here with Joe,” she reminded him, desperate for a verbal weapon. His intent was all too obvious.

  “Sure you did. To get at me. Both of you, using each other to get at me, and I don’t like it. You’re no more in love with Joe than a clam is.”

  “I’m not trying to get at you!” she screamed, defending hersel
f. Her green eyes widened. “Why can’t you get it through your thick, egotistical head that I’m not in love with you? It’s been too many years to hold a grudge!”

  He shook his head very slowly. “No, it hasn’t. Not considering that we started something explosive and never finished it. We wanted each other. And that, at least, hasn’t changed.”

  “I don’t want you,” she lied in a husky whisper.

  “Like hell you don’t.” He moved unexpectedly and ripped the sheet out of her hands.

  For a moment he stood transfixed, not even noticing her hands fighting him for her cover, her face burning.

  “Stop, Marc!” she pleaded.

  “Oh, no. Not now.” He reached down and scooped her up into his hard arms, drawing her close against the warmth of his broad chest, crushing her breasts softly against him. His breathing sounded ragged, and her heart must have stopped because she lay there defenselessly, staring dazedly up into his face.

  “What...where are you taking me?” she protested, but he barely noticed her efforts to resist him.

  Marc laughed roughly, staring straight ahead as he strode out onto the patio, into the sultry breeze and sunlight, and started toward the crashing surf. “Stop twisting against me, Gaby, or I’ll throw you down on the beach and show you what you’ve just done to me.”

  That made her stop, because she could feel the thunder of his heart against her breasts.

  “Nobody can see us down here unless they come out of the house. And it’s nearly dawn. They’ll be sleeping off what they drank, so don’t expect to be rescued. Not now.”

  He put her on her feet and stared at her body, which was barely concealed by the flimsy nightgown. “Yes,” he whispered, drawing in a heavy breath as his eyes devoured her body. “Yes, you’d bring a man to his knees posing like that for a camera.”

  “Let me go back to the house. I want to go!” She whirled, but he caught her, holding her against him, shuddering with the warm, soft contact of her body.

  His hands tangled in her hair, and he bent slowly to put his mouth against hers. “Gaby,” he breathed, opening her lips with such tenderness that he knocked the fight right out of her. “Gaby, open your mouth and give me what we both want. It’s been so long!”

  Too long. Years too long. Tears stung her eyes as she closed them and let him have her mouth. She felt the petal-soft contact of his hard mouth, wondering at the restraint, at the warm caress of his hands as they cupped her flushed face and held it up to his. Why was he suddenly being so gentle with her?

  His breathing changed. Roughened. He made a sound deep in his throat and slowly increased the pressure of his lips, opening hers under their expert caress, tilting her head back to give him more access. A breathless whimper forced its way out of her throat at the exquisite pleasure of being like this in his arms, feeling the warmth of his body and the delicious freedom of the breeze on her skin, the surf crashing around them. Her nails bit into his ribs as she touched him.

  He eased her nightgown down over her shoulders. Gaby gasped when her breasts were suddenly exposed to his touch.

  “Here,” he whispered harshly, moving her hands to his swimming trunks.

  “No...”

  “Do it,” he ordered, and then his tongue plunged into the sweet darkness, touching hers, fencing with it. His hips moved against her body, letting her feel him, making her aware of his desire for her.

  “It’s wrong,” she moaned, trying to pull away.

  “It’s right,” he amended. “It always was right with us. Take off my trunks, Gaby, and we’ll lie in the surf and make love.”

  “I can’t.” His hands were moving down her body. They touched her breasts with soft reverence. He drew back to look down at them, to savor their high, firm perfection with his eyes.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, taking the soft weight in his palms, loving the firm warmth of her. “I could get drunk just doing this. You always liked me to touch you this way, didn’t you, honey? All those years ago you’d lie in my arms and moan when I put my lips here and tasted them, and your body would arch up and beg for more.”

  “I was...only seventeen,” she said. It was hard to talk. His hands were magic, warm and big, and she looked down because she wanted to see them touching her, dark against even her tan.

  “This, with you, is as exciting as sex. You always loved making out with me. You never held back, not ever.”

  “I was on fire for you.” She laughed tearfully. “I loved you crazily. I would have slept with you anytime you asked, that’s how out of my head I was!” She tried to push him away, but he caught her hands and pressed them against his chest.

  He drew her fingers closer, raking them against the roughness of his skin. “Never like this, never with anyone, this magic we make when we touch. We’d die if we had sex, Gaby.” His deep voice shook with feeling. “We’d die trying to get enough, to bear the pleasure.”

  “Marc, please, I wasn’t lying,” she said, forcing her lips to work. Her throat was dry; her body hurt with need. “I’m still...a virgin.”

  “Go ahead, pretend, it’s all right,” he whispered, bending to her breasts. He nuzzled them tenderly, making her wild when his teeth drew against her in slow, aching loveplay. His hands were on her hips now, forcing them against the tautness of his own.

  “Marc...” She shuddered.

  “Shh,” he whispered tenderly. His mouth covered hers. She felt him release her and then realized when he drew her against him again that he was nude.

  “Oh, Marc,” she whimpered, and she pressed against him willingly, her nails biting into the hard, bronzed muscles of his back. She smelled the salt of the sea on his body as her mouth opened, and she tasted his throat, his shoulders, with lips that trembled. She felt barely strong enough to stand.

  “Oh, Gaby,” he whispered with tender, unsteady words. He moved, easing her down into the surf. He knelt above her, letting her look at him. His hands eased the nightgown off her completely and then touched her thighs, teasing them like the foaming surf that teased her back, her legs, her feet as she stared up into his dark face helplessly.

  His eyes searched her body, worshipping its slender, tanned perfection, its perfectly proportioned curves. “Dreams,” he said huskily. “I’ve lived on dreams for so long. And now here you are. And I can hold you and touch you....”

  He slid alongside her in the surf, holding her eyes as his strong hands held her waist. “Shh,” he whispered when her hips jerked as he put the whole weight of his body over hers. “Don’t rush it,” he murmured, misunderstanding the movement. “We’ll just lie together like this for a little bit; we’ll feel each other. You’re so soft, honey. It’s like lying on velvet. Kiss me, Gaby. Remember how we used to do it and you’d start trembling when the kisses got deep and slow?”

  His mouth was on hers. She felt his chest crushing her breasts even though his elbows caught the brunt of his formidable weight. The hair that covered him was sweetly abrasive on her skin, and she felt the surf under them and the glory of being allowed to feel him this way after the years of aching hunger. Her hands smoothed down his back, worshipping the hard muscle and rough skin.

  He was shuddering, and she began to tremble. It was as if they were the only two people on earth. Around them the surf was storming onto the grainy sand, and she never noticed its watery roar or the discomfort of the fine, wet sand against her bare back. Marc was loving her, and she was lost in the delight of his warm, strong body as it curved down against hers.

  She opened her eyes and looked into the black, passion-glazed depths of his. Her hands touched his hard cheeks, smoothing into the silvery hair at his temples as she felt his body tremble against the soft, involuntary movements of her hips and legs.

  “Before we go crazy,” he whispered unsteadily, “we’d better agree on who’s responsible he
re. Once I rouse you and start taking you, I won’t be able to think, you know.”

  Her mind felt blank. His legs were strong and warm over hers, and she felt the shuddering urgency of his need.

  “Responsible?” she echoed blankly.

  “I don’t have anything with me,” he whispered. “Should I worry?”

  She swallowed. She was drowning in desire. She wanted him and was barely sane enough to comprehend the risk she was taking. Finally she managed to say, “Yes.” Her voice faltered.

  “Damn, damn, damn,” he cursed. His hands hurt her as his body moved restlessly against hers, and she wondered if he might risk it in his hunger as he strained at calming breaths.

  “I didn’t even think. I don’t—” He broke off, glancing down at her, watching her expression change as the hunger drained out of it.

  Embarrassed and confused, Gaby averted her eyes from his body because she couldn’t look at him. She jerked away and sat up, a slender, tanned ball with her knees drawn up, shaking.

  He ran a rough hand through his hair, cursing softly. He was furious and it showed. He got to his feet unsteadily and dragged his swimming trunks back on. He stood trembling and, almost as an afterthought, scooped up the towel he’d used earlier and threw it at her without a word.

  She moved enough to get the huge white towel with his monogrammed initial in gold all the way around her. She got to her feet shakily, avoiding his dark eyes. Then she picked up her soaking nightgown and rolled it into a ball.

  Her hair was wet in back, and she smoothed a hand over it as she glared at him. “Doesn’t Lana satisfy you?” she asked numbly. “Or was it revenge for what I said last night?”

  “Maybe it was a lot of things,” he snapped, suddenly angry again. “Does Joe know how hot you get for other men? Can’t he satisfy you?”

  “I don’t sleep with Joe,” she said simply. “I never have.”

  He simply stared at her.

  “Do you really think I could ever love a man again after what you did to me?” she asked softly, watching his face go hard, his eyes darken. “I haven’t offered myself to a man once, in all these years, because the memory of what happened always makes me go cold. It’s pretty demeaning to find out what the man you love really thinks of you.”