“That’s what life is about, Jenna,” Marcus said patiently. “Things change. You can’t lock yourself away from it, a lone princess pining in her tower. People move on, they leave the past behind, take chances and accept risks, forge new relationships. Make love.”
“But I don’t want—”
“You do!” He took a step toward her, and she involuntarily moved back. Then she found herself trapped against the wall, with Marcus standing over her, his hands flattened on either side of her while his eyes held hers in thrall. “You do want,” he repeated. “You just admitted you want me.”
“Don’t bully me, Marcus!”
He wasn’t touching her. “I’m trying to shake you awake, Sleeping Beauty. Fighting through the thorny hedge you’ve grown around your dreams. Tell me, has Dean ever even kissed you?”
“Yes, he has!” she claimed hotly, his weary, contemptuous tone sparking her temper. “Lots of times.”
The first had been a clumsy adolescent experiment when they were both thirteen, resulting in more embarrassment than pleasure. The last was lingering and tender and poignant, before he went away.
She supposed that what she had seen as a pledge, he’d known was a goodbye to young love, because realistically the scarcely budding romantic component of their almost lifelong relationship wouldn’t survive four years of separation.
Marcus’s jaw tautened. She thought, and it gave her a perverse satisfaction, that he’d received a small shock. “You’ve never slept with him,” he said flatly.
How would he know? She gave him a silent, stubborn look, and his eyes narrowed, speculating.
He said softly, “You’ve never slept with anyone, have you?”
“You don’t expect me to answer that!”
Unforgivably Marcus laughed. “You don’t need to, little virgin,” he taunted her. “It’s written all over you.” His voice altered to a kinder tone. “Maybe I should have taken that into account. But if you’ve been saving yourself for Dean, what are you going to do now?”
“I’m not going to sleep with the first man who offers!” Jenna flashed.
His mouth thinned. “I haven’t suggested that.”
“You said you wanted to have sex with me.”
He looked as though he was going to deny it. She wondered if he was going to tell her no, she’d got it wrong.
“I want to make love with you,” he said slowly, at last. “And you want it too.”
“I don’t love you!” she cried. “Not in the way I love—loved Dean.” This wasn’t love, this tug of desire, of physical need, that sometimes shook her to her core. It was too elemental. Too scary. She thrust that thought away, not wanting to examine the implications.
Marcus went lynx-eyed. “Past tense,” he insisted, “or present? Let it go, Jenna. Dean’s committed to Callie. He’s madly, deeply in love with her.”
“I know!” There was anguish in her voice. “I accept that.”
“Then why can’t you accept this?” he demanded, and hauled her into his arms.
Chapter Seven
It was in a strange way both like and unlike the other times Marcus had kissed her. The same rush of pleasure, unexpected and overwhelming, invaded her body.
But there was another element in the erotic charge of his lips forcing hers apart—a ruthlessness that was new and alarming, as if he were determined to blot everything else from her mind, her heart.
Her head fell back, and he shifted one arm so that he held her securely in the curve of his shoulder.
He seemed intent on demonstrating to her an unleashed sexuality, freed from the consideration and tenderness he’d shown her previously.
Not that he hurt her, he was far too skillful for that—but this was no gentle caress of comfort, no restrained if passionate exploration. It was a no-holds-barred, primal sexual revelation. A brazen assault on her senses.
At first she was shocked, as much by her own instant response as by the power of his arms holding her and the near-aggression of his kiss.
Fire licked through her veins, setting her alight, and as his complete lack of inhibition transferred itself to her, she kissed him back recklessly, her mouth as hungry and seeking as his, wanting the taste of him, arching her body over his arm at her waist, letting him take her with him to another plane of intense arousal.
She clung to his shoulders, the taut muscles bunching under her hands.
He pushed her to the wall, and his hands were on her breasts, shamelessly possessive. Her body was no longer her own, but an instrument of pleasure brought humming to life by his hands and his mouth, strung so tightly that when his fingers found a way inside her dress and touched bare skin she shivered with delight.
Marcus lifted his mouth then, his breathing harsh. “Jenna,” he muttered, “this is torture. We need a bed.”
Oh, yes! her mind said, before he eased away from her, leaving a cold gap between them. He still had a hand on her breast, the other resting on her hip.
Outside a car door slammed, and Jenna stiffened, pushing away his hands, turning her horrified gaze toward the door.
Katie?
Quick footsteps, and the door of the adjoining flat opened and closed. Jenna slumped with relief, and Marcus gave a smothered, unsteady laugh. He reached for her again, but she evaded him, turning blindly to enter the living room, fumbling for the light. It dazzled her eyes, the room swimming before her.
When he followed, she whirled to face him, and his eyes, dark and glittery, went to the bodice of her dress. The neckline was half off her shoulder, the lace of her bra showing.
Hastily Jenna pulled her dress into place, and ran her tongue over throbbing lips. She felt disheveled and disoriented, tiny shudders like miniature aftershocks attacking her.
Marcus moved toward her, and she stepped back with a wary little shake of her head.
His face became shuttered. He stopped inches from her, and they stared wordlessly at each other.
His mouth twisted. “I suppose it was too much to expect the walls would tumble so easily.”
“You’re not that irresistible.” Jenna felt a need to attack while she gathered some kind of defenses. He was a formidable opponent, and he didn’t play fair. Bewildered, she realized she was thinking of him as the enemy. Marcus, her friend—her protective, slightly bossy, almost-big-brother. Until now.
The sound he made wasn’t quite a laugh. “I think I proved my point, at least.”
He’d certainly proven that he could make her want him—make her almost fall into bed with him. A myriad of thoughts, half thoughts, chased each other through her mind. And a formless, barely acknowledged fear that she couldn’t name or understand.
Distractedly, she thrust her fingers into her hair in a useless attempt at tidying it. Making a decision to give up Dean and her dreams of a future with him was one thing. Having a steamy affair with his brother on the rebound was something else entirely. She couldn’t trust these bewildering new emotions at all. Aloud she said, “This can’t be real!”
Marcus’s hands lifted, then fell to his sides. “It felt real to me. More real than your girlish romantic fixation on my brother.”
That was cruel. She turned away from him, swallowing hurt. The coffee table as usual was a mess. Like her life, she thought, suddenly irritated. They really ought to tidy up.
Marcus said, “I don’t mean to hurt you, Jenna. But I’m getting a little tired of waiting for you to emerge from your cozy dream world.”
She faced him then, her eyes hot. “You think I’m a fool. But I’m not so stupid or so juvenile that I don’t know the difference between love and…lust.”
He just looked at her for a moment, then he laughed. “Lust?” he echoed harshly. “That’s the second time you’ve said that. I suppose it was lust that made you kiss me just now as if your whole life depended on it.”
Jenna shrugged, looking away and down.
A hard hand came under her chin and forced it up. “Maybe I don’t care. Whatever it was,
it’s pretty potent. You lit up for me like a Roman candle.”
“Fireworks don’t last,” she said. “They’re all flash and burn and then…ashes.” She pushed his hand away, but he grabbed at her wrist and held it.
“That’s what you’re afraid of? That it might all turn to ashes?”
“It’s bound to eventually,” she reasoned. “Isn’t it?” All his other girlfriends had disappeared from his life, hardly impinging on his family, seldom mentioned. Katie had been through a number of boyfriends too, some of them looking serious for a while. A couple of times Jenna had comforted her friend while she wept for the ending of another relationship.
She’d thought herself lucky, secure in her certainty of Dean’s steadfast love.
Now she knew better.
“If you and I were sleeping together,” she said, “your family would know. We couldn’t keep it a secret from them.”
“So? They like you. Katie would be thrilled to bits.”
“And what about when it ends?” Suppose they rejected her, out of family solidarity or embarrassment, or because it would be socially awkward to include their son’s ex-lover? Especially if he’d acquired a new one. The ramifications could be endless. And heartbreaking. At the mere possibility of being shut out of their lives, all the fears and dreads of her childhood insecurities returned to haunt her.
If the Crossans rejected her, she’d be alone in the world. Even the thought of it made her shiver inwardly. She could feel again the intense, frightened loneliness she’d experienced at six years old, when she’d realized she could rely on no one but herself.
“I’ve no intention of letting it end,” Marcus said.
“All your other affairs have. There’d be too many complications. I couldn’t bear to lose my relationship with your family, Marcus.” And if Marcus walked out of her life…Her heart quailed. “Or your friendship.”
He took her hands in his. “You’ll never lose that, Jenna. It’s yours for keeps. And I’m sure you won’t lose Katie’s, either…or Dean’s. If that’s what’s bothering you, there’s a very simple solution.”
Jenna shook her head. She couldn’t see it. “It’s too risky…”
“Listen,” he urged. “I want much more than a few months of sharing your bed. And I know you need more than that. It wasn’t Dean you wanted so much as what he symbolized for you—family, permanence and security, and those I’m more than happy to offer you. Marry me.”
At first Jenna thought she hadn’t heard correctly. She’d been about to argue with his assessment of her love for Dean, but his final words drove everything else out of her head. She froze, showing no reaction at all.
Marcus was studying her intently. “Well?” he said, when the silence had stretched to almost five seconds. “Will you marry me, Jenna?”
Somehow she unglued her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “You don’t want to get married! I mean…you’ve never shown any inclination to—”
For a split second he looked as though he might argue. Then he said, “Don’t you think it’s time I did? Most of my friends are married or with partners.”
“I thought you were quite happy.”
“Did you?” His voice flattened. “Well, perhaps there’s been something missing from my life that you didn’t know about.”
A wife? She looked at him and realized that although she’d known him for so long, there had always been something about Marcus that was hidden from her. She’d put it down to his being older, but the gap wasn’t really so huge now. Yet he’d still seemed a little aloof. She knew him less well than she did any other member of his family.
And now he was proposing the most intimate relationship of all between man and woman.
His glance slipped over her, a crooked smile on his mouth. “I want you very much, Jenna, and I would love you…to be my wife.”
Assuaging a sexual urge, however powerful, didn’t seem sufficient reason to make such a binding commitment. “If you’re doing this to get me into bed—” she started, before his look stopped her, sending a tremor of trepidation through her.
“You know,” his voice was deceptively gentle, “I find that somewhat offensive.”
“I’m sorry.” She knew he wasn’t that crude—or that desperate. He genuinely liked her, and maybe that was enough for him. Not for her. “I can’t marry a man I don’t love!”
He regarded her narrowly for a moment, and shoved his hands into his pockets. His tone became crisp, almost businesslike. “You love my parents, don’t you?”
“Yes, but that’s diff—”
“What about Jane?”
“I’m very fond of her.”
“And Katie.”
“Of course!”
He paused. “And you dote on Dean. Are you saying I’m the only member of my family you don’t love?”
“You know it’s not the same!”
“So you do love me.”
“In a way, of course—”
“A way that includes sex—lust—whatever you want to call it. An adult emotion, Jenna, not a rosy adolescent illusion. And I love you…” Again he paused. “I’d say we have a pretty sound basis for marriage.”
“It’s crazy,” she said. Her head spun, and pulses throbbed at her temple and throat.
“Why? Every day people who were perfect strangers months—even weeks or days ago—promise to love and cherish each other until death. We’ve known each other nearly all your life. No nasty surprises, and certainly no hostile in-laws.”
His reasoning was cogent. She didn’t expect to love again as she’d loved Dean. Marcus aroused sexual feelings she hadn’t even known she was capable of. And they had lots of things in common.
He had put his finger on the most persuasive argument of all—the promise of cementing her place in his family, strengthening the bonds that were so important to her.
“Children,” she said. Was she really seriously considering this? “Do you want children?” If there were children there would be no question of divorce. She’d never do that to a child. And she was sure Marcus wouldn’t, either.
“I hope we’ll have them,” he said. “You like kids, don’t you?”
She had always assumed one day she’d have a family. But not without benefit of wedlock. She wanted her children to have a father, one who was committed to them for life.
Everything he said made sense, and yet…
He reached for her, drawing her closer, his hands gliding up her arms and over her shoulders to hold her head. His lips met hers in a long, tender, drugging kiss, utterly different from the heart-pounding rage of passion earlier. “We have more than sex,” he told her. “Though that’s important, and I want it, with you. If you hadn’t shown me you want it too, I wouldn’t have forced the issue. Oh, I know,” he said as she opened her lips to speak. “Your heart belongs to Dean. I can live with that until you get over it. One day you’ll find you have your heart back—a bit bruised perhaps, but yours again. Because he doesn’t want it.”
She wasn’t sure which came first, the hard pressure of his lips on hers or the sound of Katie’s key in the lock.
If he heard it Marcus took no notice, nor of her hands pushing at his shoulders. He was intent on prying her lips apart, exploring her mouth with his.
Katie’s voice said, “That’s Marcus’s car outside,” and then, closer, “Are you two still…ooh, sorry! Are we interrupting something?”
She was standing in the doorway of the living room, with Jason behind her. Marcus at last loosened his grip on Jenna, though he still had his arm about her as he turned to his sister.
“You are,” he said calmly.
“We could go out and come in again?” Katie offered, her eyes avid, an intrigued, pleased smile on her mouth.
“No,” Jenna said. “I’ll walk Marcus to the door.”
“You’re leaving?” Katie looked up at her brother.
“It seems so.” He followed Jenna as she escaped his light hold and passed the other two.
Jenna opened the door for him, and a couple of small moths fluttered into the hallway. Marcus stopped, looking down into her upturned face.
He was right, she thought. Dean didn’t want her, but Marcus, for whatever reason, apparently did. And her stupid, disillusioned heart would mend one day.
He lifted one hand and grasped the door behind her. It seemed neither of them knew what to do next.
“Think about it,” he said, and bent his head to hers, but the kiss was so quick she hardly had time to respond. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
He kissed her again, this time more lingeringly. Then he left her, and she waited until he’d driven off before she closed the door, and discovered that her knees were shaking.
After leaning on the door for a few seconds, she made her way back into the living room. “I’m going to bed,” she announced, pretending not to notice the enthralled interest on Katie’s face.
It was barely fifteen minutes before she heard Jason depart, and seconds later Katie opened Jenna’s bedroom door.
“You can’t be asleep yet,” she declared.
Jenna sighed and struggled up, switching the bedside light on.
Katie grinned at her and sprawled across the end of the bed. “Come on, what’s going on between you and big brother?”
“He asked me to marry him.”
Katie’s mouth opened on a strangled squeak. “He did? I can’t believe it!” She flung herself across the bed to hug her friend.
“I hardly believe it myself,” Jenna muttered.
“You’ll be my sister-in-law!” Katie said excitedly. “Well, I always thought you would be, but that was when—” She broke off and hugged Jenna again. “I told you he fancied you! You said yes, didn’t you?”
“No, not yet.” She mustn’t let Katie’s enthusiasm influence her decision.
“Why not?” Katie clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes rounding. “Oh, sorry. We interrupted, didn’t we! The air was positively sizzling tonight when we walked in.”
“It’s all right. Probably just as well. It gives me time to think.”
“About what? I know you, Jen. You wouldn’t kiss a guy that way unless you meant it. When did you realize you were in love?”
Marrying Marcus Page 8
