Lovers' Reunion (Silhouette Treasury 90s)

by Anne Marie Winston

  It was a little scary to realize that she was part of his plan this time.

  A little unnerving, and yet flattering. Exhilarating, and yet...

  And yet ... if she was honest, her feelings were a strange mixture of intense delight mixed with a sense of ... what? Resentment, she supposed. A little part of her resented the fact that Marco had come home expecting her to fall into his arms and his plans.

  She had been available in the past when he showed up, and she supposed it wasn’t unreasonable of him to hope that she’d still be available. But it almost was as if he’d known she’d be waiting. What if she’d still been married? What if Kirk hadn’t died? What would have happened then? Would Marco have simply shrugged and walked away?

  She was afraid she knew the answer. And it told her that he could never care for her in the all-consuming way that she loved him.

  His key scraping in the lock gave her an instant’s warning before the door swung open and she caught her breath as he appeared. He filled the doorway, bigger always than she imagined him, and the corners of his lips slid up into the roguish grin that melted her insides and weakened her legs.

  He shut the door behind him. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” She still couldn’t breathe as he walked across the room, and when he took her by the hips and pulled her against him, she knew by the sharp, hungry look in his eyes that he wasn’t oblivious to her body’s reaction to him.

  But then his eyes narrowed, and he took her by the arms, holding her away from him. “What’s wrong? Have a bad day?”

  She was startled, and panicked by his perceptiveness. “No—I—uh, nothing’s wrong.” Inspiration seized her. “I missed you today.”

  “I missed you, too,” he said, bending his head to take her mouth in a deep, masterful kiss that reestablished his claim. He bent her backward over his arm and stroked a hand down over the line of her throat, tracing her collarbone and trailing down across the fine flesh revealed by her V-necked top until his palm slipped onto the full mound of her breast and his teasing fingers coaxed her nipple into a taut little button of sensation, making her gasp and clench her fingers in his hair. He caressed her for another minute before slowly easing her upright, gentling the kiss and finally lifting his head from hers.

  “Welcome home,” she managed, leaning back in his embrace to survey his face. She deliberately thrust the unhappy thoughts of a moment before back into hiding and offered him a smile. “Are you hungry?”

  He grinned and his eyes glittered. “Yeah. I’m hungry. I’m starving.”

  “Not for that. I was talking about dinner.”

  “Oh.” His face fell into exaggerated lines of discontent. “You meant food.”

  She nodded. “Sustenance. Fuel. You know, that stuff that keeps us from dying.”

  “I’m dying anyway.” He made a production of glancing at his watch. “It’s been almost nineteen hours since—”

  Sophie put her hand over his mouth. “You’re terrible. Don’t you think of anything but sex?”

  “Nope.” He took her hand and began to press lazy kisses into her palm, stroking his tongue across her flesh, working his way up over her wrist to the tender flesh inside her elbow, and she shuddered in an uncontrollable, elementary response to his sensual persuasion. “I think about you all day long, about the little noise you make in your throat when I touch your breast, about how silky the skin feels right at the top of your inner thighs, about the way you dig in your heels and arch your back—”

  “Stop.” She buried her face in his chest, ridiculously embarrassed.

  “Why?” But he took pity on her and led her over to the sofa. “Sit down here and tell me about your day.”

  She allowed him to pull her down beside him, and he stretched his long legs out, keeping one arm firmly around her while she told him about the parenting class she was teaching for fathers at the clinic. Then she remembered something.

  “How was your day? Didn’t you have a doctor’s appointment?”

  He shrugged. “It was fine.”

  He’d stiffened when she mentioned the doctor. She hadn’t imagined it. And his tone of voice definitely indicated the subject wasn’t one he wanted to pursue. Fear clutched at her heart. “Is everything all right? What did he say?”

  Agitation sharpened her own tone and she sat up, struggling free of his arm and turning to survey him. He looked fine, but that was no indicator of his health, she knew from bitter experience.

  “Everything’s fine,” he repeated.

  Marco never complained. Never expressed disappointment, sadness, anger. On the surface he appeared to be completely at peace with the sweeping changes the accident had forced into his life. But she knew him too well. He wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted the world to believe. She waited, but he didn’t say anything more.

  There was an awkward silence. Something was wrong—she knew it—and his refusal to share his problems with her reminded her forcefully of the way he’d treated her when she’d been a young woman in love with him six years ago. The agony of his departures returned, and she realized that while he might be here with her physically, there was still an insurmountable wall between them. A wall behind which the real Marco Esposito hid his fears and his feelings, a wall he’d never let her scale.

  Silently she rose from the couch and started for the kitchen.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have to set the table,” she said tonelessly.

  “Wait.” He caught her wrist and tugged her back to the seat. He hesitated for a moment, and despite herself, her heart rose hopefully.

  “Tomorrow, two friends of mine are coming through town.”

  “That’s nice.” She averted her face so that he wouldn’t see the disappointment she couldn’t hide.

  “Sophie...” He sighed heavily. “The doctor’s appointment really was fine. I keep dreaming he’ll tell me I’m doing better than he’d ever imagined, and that he’ll pronounce me a medical miracle, that I’ll make a full recovery.”

  “Oh, Marco.” She reached for him, but he caught her hands in his and gave a laughing half shrug.

  “One of these days, I’ll get used to being a cripple.”

  “You are not a cripple,” she said vehemently. “That’s an awful word and I don’t want to hear it again.”

  “Yes, ma‘am.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Never again, ma’am.”

  Though he was smiling, there still were shadows buried deep in his soul. She could see them, but it was clear that he didn’t intend to tell her anything more.

  Forcing back the hurt, she said, “So tell me about these friends of yours.”

  “All right. They’re both scientists. They have a little girl. And they’re two of my favorite people in the whole world, outside my family. I’m counting on you to help me entertain them.”

  She knew it was stupid to be pleased about such a little thing, but she was thrilled. He wanted her to meet his friends!

  “There they are. J.V.! Merry!” The next day, Marco lifted his hand and Sophie watched as two of the tallest people she’d ever seen altered course and strode toward them through O’Hare, Chicago’s biggest and busiest airPort.

  The man was a red-headed giant with shoulders as wide as her parents’ house and a neat red beard. Beside him, the tall, slim woman with the white-blond hair looked almost petite.

  Until she stepped forward and hugged Marco, and Sophie realized that Meredith Bayliss-Adamson was only a scant inch shorter than Marco, even in the flat sandals she wore.

  She was carrying a toddler with a cloud of red-gold curls, and the little girl shrank back in shy flirtation, clutching her mother’s braid to her cheek and smiling around the thumb in her mouth while she regarded the strangers with wide eyes as blue as her mother’s. Marco released the woman, laughing as he touched the little one’s nose with a gentle finger.

  “You don’t know me, do you, sweet thing?”

  “This is your godfather, Kitty,” her mother said.<
br />
  “But don’t listen to a thmg he tells you,” cautioned her father. Jared Adamson came toward his friend, arms outstretched, and dragged Marco into a bear hug that looked as if he intended to crack some ribs. But instead of the back-slapping he-man ritual that Sophie expected, there was a tense moment of total silence. Jared’s fingers were white where they gripped Marco’s back; his eyes were squeezed tightly closed.

  Sophie felt tears rise and begin to burn behind her own eyes at the naked emotion on the bigger man’s face. And though she couldn’t see Marco’s expression, she suspected it was much the same.

  “You scared the living hell out of me, buddy.” Jared’s voice was hoarse, but he grinned as he stepped back. “You look a lot better than you did the last time I saw you.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  Jared brushed that aside. “It’s really good to see you. How’s the leg?”

  “Good, good, can’t complain.”

  Did she imagine it or had Marco’s shoulders tensed? Jared didn’t appear to notice anything. But his wife’s expression registered a quiet concern that Sophie knew all too well.

  “And I want you to meet Sophie.” Marco put his arm around her waist and drew her forward. “Sophie, this is my esteemed colleague, Dr. Jared Vanner-Adamson, and his far-too-good-for-him wife, Dr. Meredith Bayliss-Adamson. And the little charmer is my godchild, Katherine, but she answers to Kitty. Jared, Merry, this is Sophie.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Sophie.” Merry offered her a warm smile as she took Sophie’s hand in a friendly grip.

  Jared’s eyes were molten gold, alive with speculation as he took her hand in one immense palm while he looked her over. “Hello, Sophie. I want to know why you’re hanging out with a shady character like this one. But first, is there a last name that goes with ‘Sophie’?”

  She smiled at the big man, liking the open friendliness in his gaze. But before she could reply, Marco pulled her closer in an open display of affection. “There is, but you don’t need to know it. Soon she’ll be Sophia Esposito.”

  The conversation stopped.

  Around them, the noises of other travelers and the midday hustle of the airport suddenly seemed loud and intrusive. Jared’s eyebrows rose practically to his hairline and Merry’s eyes were wide with surprise.

  Marco reached out and pressed a not-so-gentle fist to his large friend’s lower jaw. “Shut your mouth, old man. You’re attracting flies.”

  She could feel a blush working its way up her cheeks, and she didn’t know what to say to his friends’ obvious stupefaction. But she did know she couldn’t let Marco railroad her into a wedding, or even an engagement, without taking a stand. So she turned to Jared and Merry Adamson and tapped a finger against her temple in a gesture that clearly questioned Marco’s sanity.

  “I have no plans to change my name or my marital status,” she said in a firm voice, extending her hand to Merry when Jared released it. “I’m Sophie Morrell and it’s a pleasure to meet all of you. Marco’s seven years older than me, and sometimes I think he’s getting a little senile.” She turned to Marco with a gentle smile and pinched his cheek. “But I humor him.”

  Jared began to laugh, his booming voice attracting curious glances from travelers around them. “This one’s got your number,” he informed Marco with great satisfaction.

  Marco glowered, but she could tell he wasn’t really annoyed. Then his expression softened. “She can have anything of mine she wants,” he said, holding her gaze, “but she’s not getting rid of me.”

  There was a short, awkward silence as she pondered what to say to that. Jared’s eyebrows rose higher and his grin broadened even more.

  Before he could speak, she rushed to fill the gap. “You must be tired. The car’s parked in the short-term lot. We’ll get your luggage and take you to Marco’s condo.”

  “We don’t want to put you out.” Merry said to Marco as they headed through the terminal to Baggage Claim. “We can stay in a hotel—”

  “You’re staying at my place,” Marco said. “There’s plenty of room. I spend most of my time at Sophie’s, anyway, so you’ll have it to yourselves.”

  She felt the blush returning, and she stifled the urge to kick him in the shins as they waited for the bags to appear. Marco seemed determined to announce to the world that she belonged to him in every way there was. She was sure his friends had no illusions about why they would have his place to themselves.

  She was quiet during the ride to Marco’s condo, but the other three didn’t appear to notice as they caught up on the mutual friends they had and Jared shared information on their recent expedition in the African veld. Little Kitty had been only three months old when they took the assignment, Merry explained, and the experience had had its interesting moments.

  They arrived at the condo shortly after that, and while Marco and Jared were unloading suitcases from the trunk, Sophie slid across to the driver’s seat. After all, it was her car they had been driving.

  “Hey,” Marco said. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Home,” she replied firmly, avoiding his searching gaze. “You and your friends have some catching up to do. Why don’t you spend the afternoon with them and then all of you can come to my place for dinner tonight?”

  “I thought we’d take them downtown for dinner.” Marco was frowning.

  “Actually, we’d probably enjoy dinner at Sophie’s more,” Merry said from behind him. “If it isn’t an imposition, Sophie. Eating out with a jet-lagged toddler might be a recipe for The Meal From Hell.”

  “It’s no trouble,” Sophie assured her. “I’ll plan the meal for six-thirty. That should give you plenty of time to rest and relax.”

  “Wonderful! See you then.” Merry turned away, following her husband up the sidewalk, but Marco lingered for a moment. His face had almost a grim set to it, and she wondered what was the matter. But before she could ask, he said in a clipped voice, “All right. Since you girls have already made plans, we’ll see you at six-thirty.”

  There was nothing more to say, apparently, because without so much as a peck on the cheek, he turned and followed his guests.

  She prepared veal scallopini, figuring that Jared and Merry would enjoy a glimpse of Marco’s Italian heritage. Then she gave the apartment a quick cleanup, although she normally kept it spotless, anyway, and changed into a casual skirt and matching tunic sweater in melon before setting the table. She took the precaution of placing breakable things high out of Kitty’s reach and got out a supply of toys that she kept for her nieces and nephews.

  It was the first thing Merry noticed when she showed them into the apartment. “I hope you didn’t go to any trouble for us,” she exclaimed.

  “I didn’t, I swear.” Sophie was amused. “I’m the youngest of seven, and most of my brothers and sisters have children. I’ve acquired a lot of toys over the years.”

  “We really appreciate you taking time to entertain us,” Merry said. “We had expected to grab a quick visit with Marco, but this is so much better.”

  “No problem.” Marco spoke before Sophie could answer her. “It’s not like I have a lot to do with my time these days.” The comment was surprisingly caustic. Then, as if he realized how he’d sounded, he grinned. “I’m a man of leisure now. No more leeches and mosquitoes to contend with—just students.”

  Perhaps she only imagined that the grin looked forced and sick around the edges.

  Over dinner the talk was largely of old expeditions. Jared and Marco had worked together more than a dozen times, and each time one man told a story, the other invariably topped it with something even more outrageous. Several times she caught an odd expression on Marco’s face, and though she couldn’t say why, she had the strongest urge to offer him comfort. Once she reached for his hand and linked her fingers with his, and the pressure in the grip he returned was enough to make her hide a wince. She didn’t think he even realized it.

  She heard about the time Jared and Marco got str
anded in the jungle when a rope bridge across a ravine broke ahead of them. They talked about being stuck inside a tiny tent for ten days in a windstorm, of being confronted by jungle natives carrying blowpipes with darts tipped with curare, and of their canoe overturning and dumping the two men into a river full of aggressive hippos and piranhas. Marco teased Jared about his initial annoyance six years ago when he’d realized the man he’d selected for a Venezuelan exploration was actually a woman—namely Merry—and they reminisced about expeditions the three of them had done together since then.

  “So where are you off to next?” Marco threw out the question as the four of them relaxed over coffee in Sophie’s living room after the meal. Kitty had played until her little eyes closed and Merry had laid her in the crib in Sophie’s spare room.

  Jared and Merry glanced at each other, a private exchange that was so intimate Sophie felt like an intruder for witnessing it. “Hawaii,” Jared said. He placed an arm around his wife and lightly caressed her upper arm with his fingers.

  “Hawaii? What’s going on in Hawaii that’s so exciting you two want to be in on it?” Marco sounded utterly perplexed, and Sophie deduced from his tone that Hawaii wasn’t an answer he’d expected.

  Merry laughed. “In terms of our work, nothing earth-shattering. Jared’s going to be teaching at the University of Hawaii and I’ll continue to research and illustrate native flora. I already have a contract for another textbook.”

  “In terms of our family...” Jared smiled down at his wife again, and Sophie caught her breath at the love in his gaze. “Now that is earth-shattering. We’re going to have another baby.”

  Sophie forced herself to smile. “Congratulations!” Jealousy was an unbecoming emotion. She regretted still that she hadn’t been able to get pregnant before Kirk died. Now ... she couldn’t allow herself to believe that children with Marco were in her future.

  “Hey, that’s great. But—” Marco lifted his shoulders in an uncomprehending shrug. “Isn’t that going to be kind of ... boring? If you’ll excuse me for being blunt.”