by Patricia Kay
And in the meantime, he would make the most of being with her every chance he got.
Chapter Fourteen
Joanna ended up telling Georgie about Marcus. She couldn’t help it. She was so happy, yet confused, and she had to talk to someone. Besides, Georgie would have guessed anyway. She and Joanna were spending most of every day together. So while they were packing and organizing, Joanna used Georgie as a sounding board.
“Do you think I’m making a mistake?” Joanna asked.
“Do you?” Georgie countered.
“Honestly? I don’t know.” She smiled ruefully. “I hope not.”
Georgie nodded. “I hope not, either. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I know. I don’t, either. But I’m a big girl. I went into this with my eyes wide-open, and if I get hurt, I get hurt.”
“I’m not sure your eyes were wide-open,” Georgie said thoughtfully.
“Of course they were. Are. I know exactly why we’re wrong for each other.”
“You say that, but I’m not sure you believe it. I think you’re just like the rest of us. You’ve convinced yourself that love is magic. That Marcus will somehow turn into the kind of man you want him to be. We all think we’ll change the things we don’t like. But the truth is, most people don’t change. They are who they are.”
They are who they are. Joanna kept thinking about Georgie’s words. She was terribly afraid Georgie was right. After all, hadn’t Joanna said the exact same thing more than once? I am who I am. She wanted Marcus to accept her as she was and not try to change her. So why did she think he should change?
All too soon, it was time for Georgie to return to New York. Once she was gone, Joanna and Marcus fell into a routine. Every evening, when she was finished for the day, she would text him. And unless he had a commitment he couldn’t break, he would drive over and either pick her up and take her to dinner somewhere or bring takeout and they would eat at her apartment. If they had dinner out, they’d go to the corporate suite afterward and spend a couple of hours making love. If the corporate suite was host to a visiting VIP, they’d stay at Joanna’s. He always left by three, though. Even though Joanna said she didn’t care what anyone thought, she didn’t want Thomas gossiping about her, and she knew him well enough to know he would.
Joanna couldn’t wait to move, so the weekend after Georgie went home, Joanna moved into her new quarters. Her brothers and father all helped, and Marcus provided a van from his company, as well as two men to assist with the heavy lifting, so the move was accomplished in less than four hours.
Joanna had ordered a kitchen table and chairs as well as a queen-size bed for the new apartment, and the delivery took place the afternoon of the move, so along with her mother’s and sister-in-law Sharon’s help, the kitchen, bedroom and bath stuff were unpacked and put away and the apartment was ready to inhabit before six. Joanna picked up Tabitha from the vet’s, where she had been boarded. The two of them would christen the new place by spending the night.
Marcus was attending a meeting of the board of directors of one of his many charities, and Joanna was actually glad to be alone. She was tired, for one thing, and for another, she’d hardly had time to think lately. It was kind of nice to be alone and quiet, with no one to consider but herself.
She ate pizza for dinner, took a shower and was settled into her new bed by ten. At ten-fifteen her cell rang. She smiled when she saw it was Marcus.
“How’d everything go?” he asked.
“Great. They were finished moving me in by two.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help out today.”
“Don’t be silly. You were a huge help, sending that truck and the two men. We had plenty of help. My dad and all my brothers were here.”
“I would have liked to meet them.”
Joanna bit her lip. She would have liked for him to meet them, too, even though part of her was afraid of how such a meeting might go. Marcus was so different from the men in her family. She couldn’t picture them talking, considering that her brothers’ conversations mostly consisted of whether or not the Seahawks would have a winning season, the Mariners might be in line for the pennant this year or what crappy thing their bosses had pulled that week. And politics! Forget about it. If her brothers got started on politics, no telling what would happen. She cringed just thinking about it.
“I thought I might come by tomorrow,” he said.
“I need to finish unpacking and get my workroom set up.”
“I can help.”
Joanna knew what would happen if he was there. Yes, he would help, but sooner or later—probably sooner—he would distract her by kissing her or touching her, and then they’d get no more work done. “Wait and come about six, okay?”
“You drive a hard bargain, woman. Okay, six it is.”
* * *
Before Joanna knew it, October was over. She felt as if all she’d done was blink and the month had disappeared. Looking back, she believed that despite her doubts about her relationship with Marcus and where it would ultimately end, October was probably the happiest, most perfect month she’d ever had. Georgie, true to her word, had helped her find two assistants—both talented and proficient needlewomen and good workers—so her days were spent happily designing clothes and learning to work with Nim and Tanya. And most of her nights were spent with Marcus.
She blushed even thinking about how much time they spent in bed. And if not in bed, in the shower together. Or taking a bath together. Or cuddling on the sofa. And sometimes they even necked in the car because they couldn’t wait until they were inside her apartment.
During that entire month, there was only one incident that upset Joanna and intensified all her buried doubts. She and Marcus had just had some really sensational sex and, sated, were lying in bed lazily talking. She lay on her stomach and Marcus lay on his side. He was stroking her back and once in a while he’d lean over and kiss her. At one point, he traced the dragonfly tattoo on her right shoulder and casually said, “Is it painful to get a tattoo removed?”
She had been about to say, “I don’t know,” when she realized what he’d asked and what must have prompted the question. Abruptly, she sat and drew the quilt up to cover herself. She stared at him. “You don’t like my tattoo, do you?”
He met her gaze squarely. “It’s not that I don’t like it...”
“Don’t lie to me, Marcus. You hate it, and you want me to get rid of it. That’s why you asked the question.”
He shrugged. “I don’t hate it. It’s true that I don’t like seeing skin as beautiful as yours spoiled by a tattoo and that I’d prefer you didn’t have it, but I don’t hate it.”
“I love my tattoo, and I’m not getting rid of it. So if that’s what you think, you can just put it out of your mind.”
“You won’t even discuss the possibility?”
“Why should I? I see nothing wrong with it.” She glared at him. She was so mad she had half a mind to go out and get another tattoo. And this time she’d get it where everyone could see it. All the time!
He didn’t say anything, but his silence was more eloquent than any words would be.
“What else is wrong with me that you’d like to change?” she demanded.
Now he sat up, too. “Maybe we should drop the subject until you’re in a more reasonable frame of mind. In fact, it’s late, and I have a meeting early tomorrow, so I’d better get going.”
“I’m perfectly reasonable,” she said through gritted teeth. “You’re the one who’s not. Do I keep finding fault with you?”
He sighed wearily. “Joanna, you’re exaggerating. I do not keep finding fault with you.”
“Really? Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I don’t know why you compliment me so much when I wear what you consider ‘suitable’ clothes? Do you think
I don’t realize how much you hate my makeup and hair and nail color? Just because you don’t say it in so many words doesn’t mean I don’t know what you’re thinking.”
“I didn’t know you were a mind reader,” he said evenly. But his eyes had turned colder than the top of Mount Rainier. “And I also don’t know why you’re trying to pick a fight with me. It’s not going to work. I’m tired and I have to be up early tomorrow. I think it’s best I leave. Give us time to calm down before we talk again.”
Joanna knew he meant she needed to calm down, but dammit, she didn’t want to. She wanted to have this out once and for all. He didn’t approve of her, and he wouldn’t admit it. Instead, he just made not-so-subtle remarks. But even as angry as she now was, and as much as she wanted to get everything out in the open, part of her knew it wasn’t a good idea to force a confrontation. They weren’t kids playing truth or dare. They were two adults involved in a more-serious-every-day relationship, and if she had any hope at all of salvaging it, she’d better cool down. So even though it killed her, she said, “That’s probably a good idea.”
* * *
Women could be impossible sometimes.
Marcus drove home too fast, because the more he thought about Joanna’s totally uncalled-for and unreasonable reaction to a perfectly innocent question, the more indignant he got.
But because he really was a fair and honest man, by the time he was in his own quarters and readying for bed, he admitted to himself that his question about the removal of tattoos hadn’t been as innocent as he’d pretended.
She was right. He didn’t like the tattoo. He didn’t hate it, but he did hate the fact that she had one. He knew he was being a snob, but there was something about a tattoo that felt cheap to him. And he knew the people in his circle probably felt the same way. Perhaps that, more than anything, bothered him. He might say he didn’t care what others thought, but down deep, he did. Doesn’t everyone? he wondered. Doesn’t Joanna?
Maybe he needed to get an answer to that last question. Because if Joanna truly didn’t care what others thought, maybe there was no hope for them after all.
* * *
“I’m sorry about last night.”
Marcus nodded, even though Joanna couldn’t see him since they were talking on the phone. She had called him, waiting until early afternoon. “I’m sorry, too,” he said.
“We can talk tonight, if you like, and I promise not to get upset.”
He smiled. “I’ll be there by six.”
She kept her promise. She didn’t get upset, not even when he admitted he wished she didn’t have the tattoo.
“Well, I do have it. And yes, it’s terribly painful to have them removed. Besides, I don’t want to. If...if you don’t want to keep seeing me because of it, just say so.”
He couldn’t help admiring how much courage she had. Even though they disagreed, he was proud of her for standing up for herself. He remembered how the first time he met her, he’d seen her as a worthy opponent. She was that, all right, and more. Suddenly he was ashamed of himself for making such a big deal out of a small tattoo.
“Come here,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion.
After that, they didn’t talk.
* * *
The following day Joanna had just finished cutting out a pattern for a dress she intended to make out of white eyelet when Marcus called.
“I meant to tell you about this last night,” he said, “but I got distracted.” He chuckled.
“Tell me about what?”
“My mother and Walker are having a small engagement party here at the house Saturday night, and I’d like you to come.”
Two things popped into Joanna’s mind: the disapproving look in Marcus’s mother’s eyes the night of the benefit and the fact that she, Joanna, had nothing to wear. “I... Okay. Um, it’s not going to be formal, is it?”
“No. I’d say a cocktail dress would be perfect.”
Joanna sighed. She didn’t own a cocktail dress. She wasn’t a cocktail party type of person. She wondered if she could get away with black velvet pants and her silver sweater.
“What’s the matter?” Marcus said.
“Nothing’s the matter.”
“It’s not like you to be so quiet. Don’t you want to go?”
“Yes, of course, I want to go.” Liar. She didn’t want to go at all. In fact, if she never had to see the snobby Laurette Barlow again, it would be too soon. It had been very clear to Joanna what Laurette thought of her, even if Marcus didn’t seem to realize it. “It’s just that I don’t have time to make a dress, and I honestly have nothing to wear.”
“That’s easily fixed. I’ll buy you a dress.”
Joanna began to protest, but Marcus wouldn’t listen. “It’s settled. We’re going shopping. You can take a couple of hours off tomorrow afternoon, can’t you? I’ll pick you up at two o’clock. We’ll go to Nordstrom.”
Joanna knew it was useless to argue. Marcus was determined to buy her a new dress, and truth to tell, she was curious to see what he would deem suitable.
She actually liked the dress he wanted to buy. It was a Kate Spade organza and beautifully made and detailed. But she wanted the dress in black, which they had, and he kept insisting she would look better in the pink. “I’m not a pink kind of girl,” she said.
“It looks wonderful on you,” the saleswoman said. She obviously knew who would be writing the check.
Joanna looked at herself in the three-way mirror. The pink was so pink. She’d so much rather have the black. If the saleswoman hadn’t been standing there listening to every word, Joanna would have told Marcus he must have forgotten that argument they’d had because he was at it again—trying to change her to fit his vision of the ideal woman.
And then Marcus did something so sweet and so thoughtful that Joanna could feel all her arguments melting away. He turned to the saleswoman and said, “Would you mind giving us a private moment?”
“Oh, of course not, Mr. Barlow. Just press this buzzer when you want me.”
Once she was out of earshot, he said, “Look, Joanna, I’m sorry. If you want the black, I’ll buy the black for you. But I wish you’d wear the pink instead. It looks fantastic on you.”
After that, what could she say?
He bought her the pink.
* * *
Typical of November weather, Saturday-night temperatures fell into the low forties. Joanna dug out her black wool coat and wished she had something nicer-looking to wear.
Marcus sent a car for her, and she had to admit it was very pleasant to ride in luxury and not have to worry about traffic or anything else. When the driver pulled into the circular drive in front of a beautiful stone mansion—there was no other word for it—she could only stare. Wow. The place was lit up like a Christmas tree, even to the tiny white fairy lights in the shrubs surrounding it. She had always known she and Marcus came from two different worlds—how could she not?—but the contrast between her parents’ little three-bedroom and finished-attic bungalow and this behemoth was stark...and inescapable.
Marcus stepped outside as soon as the car stopped. And he opened the door for her, and helped her out. He even kissed her hello in front of the driver. The kiss made Joanna’s butterflies settle a bit, but not for long, because the moment she walked into the beautifully decorated house, she felt all her insecurities come flooding back.
Ohmigod. The house was Architectural Digest fodder. Gorgeous hardwood floors, Oriental carpets, a magnificent chandelier, a winding staircase like ones you see in the movies, flowers and candles everywhere and the soft buzz of conversation coming from the direction of what Joanna imagined to be the formal living room. “The house is beautiful, Marcus.”
He nodded. “I can’t take any credit for it. My father had it built for my mother when they married
. He was a good bit older than she was, and I think he felt as if he’d won a prize or something.”
“Well, it’s lovely.”
A maid took Joanna’s coat, and Marcus, putting a proprietary hand on her waist, led her into the living room, where a dozen or so people were gathered. He headed straight to his mother, who stood near the fireplace with Walker Creighton at her side. Laurette looked perfect, as Joanna imagined she always did, in a dark blue velvet dress and the same pearls she’d worn to the benefit dinner. She was smiling and talking to another older couple as they approached.
Marcus waited for a lull in the conversation, then said, “Mother, Joanna’s here.”
The bright smile faded, and Joanna could see the older woman had to make an effort to keep her expression pleasant. “Hello, Joanna. So glad you could come.”
“Hello, Mrs. Barlow, Mr. Creighton. Thank you for having me. And congratulations on your engagement.”
“Thank you, my dear,” Walker Creighton said. “I’m a lucky man.” So saying, he put his arm around Laurette and smiled down at her.
Marcus introduced her to the other couple, a Dr. and Mrs. Arnold, then led her away to introduce her to the other guests. The next few minutes were a swirl of names and impressions, which Joanna was afraid she wouldn’t remember. And then Marcus steered her toward Vanessa, who stood by the piano talking to an extremely good-looking young man. Her spirits lifted. Marcus’s mother might not approve of her, but she knew Vanessa didn’t feel that way.
Vanessa was once again wearing the short gold beaded dress, which Joanna had discovered was a Vera Wang design. No wonder it was so beautiful.
“Joanna,” Vanessa said, giving her a hug. “I’m so glad to see you again.”
“And this is our brother, Tad,” Marcus said, indicating the young man, who Joanna now saw had the same bright blue eyes of his sister. His hair wasn’t as dark as Marcus’s or as light as Vanessa’s, but more a medium-brown with gold highlights. Just the way he stood, his careless smile and hooded gaze as he gave her a once-over, told Joanna everything she needed to know. He was a bad boy. And he liked being a bad boy.
