by Romy Sommer
No dice.
A bucket of water greeted her next, drenching her from head to toe, putting out the last lick of fire that was scorching through her old recliner. She clenched her fingers on the blanket in her hand. She coughed, trying to breathe past the coils of smoke.
Strong hands gripped her waist and hauled her upright. Annie’s heart began a tattoo. Dear God, she would know that touch in a coma. Huge palms patted down her back, an arm still thrown about her middle.
He turned her around roughly.
“You should know better than to….” Callused fingers pushed her chin up. A tremor started in the base of her spine the same second she heard his sharp hiss of breath.
The tension curling around them had nothing on the smoke. “Annie?”
Annie nodded and blinked. His blue gaze drilling into her, Marcus looked like he had seen a ghost. She had no such problems. She hungrily stared at him, taking in the strong jaw, the jet black hair combed back from a high forehead.
“When the hell did you get into town?”
His hard voice interrupting her greedy perusal, she stepped back from him. Mrs. Z, standing at the entrance to her room, had a totally righteous expression on her face.
“A week ago.” A scratching began in her throat, and she coughed. Her own body was in revolt, apparently. “And the fire wasn’t that bad. I almost had it covered.”
“God, Annie. You show up after three years and like this?”
She shrugged. And wiped her trembling hand over her forehead. She had no answer for his unasked question, not one that would satisfy him anyway.
Words weren’t going to come, not past the tears gathering in her throat. His frown still in place, Marcus enfolded her in his arms. He smelled of smoke like she did, but beneath that, she could breathe the scent of him, feel the familiar warmth from his body seeping into hers. Emotions and memories exploded within her, but just as quickly he thrust her back from him.
As though he regretted the hug.
“What have you been burning?” he said, his tone under perfect control, his gaze taking in the cardboard box on the coffee table in the middle of the room, and the charred remains of her sofa bed. But she had seen the hurt flash in his eyes.
She forced herself to meet his gaze. “Photos and cards from my ex.”
He scowled, even the soot on his face not diluting its intensity. “Who even has hard copies anymore?” He rolled his eyes at her continuing silence. “Wait a second. You ordered copies so you could burn them, didn’t you?”
This time, she couldn’t stop the smile pulling at her mouth. See, even after five years, no one in London understood her as Marcus did. “It’s a ritual, Marcus.”
“Why here?” A simple question, loaded with anger and so much more. “Couldn’t it wait till you’re back in London?”
Her little ritual had forced this confrontation far sooner than she had expected. But that was one of her goals. Wasn’t it?
To take risks, to grab happiness where she could. She swallowed and forced a casualness she was far from feeling into her words. “For one thing, it has to be done on the night of New Year’s Eve. Secondly,” her breath almost choked her, “I’m back in Coombethwaite, Marcus. For good.”
#
Standing outside the cottage, Marcus looked up at the perfect sky.
Annie was back. And for good apparently, whatever the hell that meant.
His chest tightened, and he exhaled on a long rush. With a lighter heart, he dialed the chief’s number and gave him a quick report, leaving Annie’s name out of it. It wouldn’t even be an official report because Mrs. Z had called him when she had started smelling the smoke.
And she had picked him because it was Annie.
He didn’t want to feel the lightness spreading inside him, couldn’t stem the soft joy gushing through him.
But, damn it, he had missed her. He had needed her but she hadn’t been there. Funny thing was he had missed her even before Grace had died. And having known her- hell, he’d met Grace through Annie, Grace had understood that. His wonderful wife had understood that as much as he loved her, he’d missed his best friend when she had all but disappeared from their lives.
“I’m ready,” she whispered behind him. He turned. She had thrown a jacket on without changing her wet clothes. Her delicate face was all angles in the faint moonlight, the stubborn angle of her jaw set tight. Soft snow was beginning to fall, and a flake landed on her nose.
Dark blue shadows danced under her eyes and she looked tired. He felt that same squeeze in his chest again.
She wore her dark brown hair long again, though those bangs, forever hanging into her eyes, hid her expression from him. She hitched her backpack over her shoulder. “Although I really don’t think there’s any need.”
He glared at her. “That room is filled with smoke, Annie. Unless you prefer that Mr. Z call the whole town. Any number of people will offer to take you in then.”
That had her pick up her pace from the porch and head towards his cottage.
They walked in silence for a while. And it was exactly as he had remembered between them.
He was still angry that she had cut herself out of his life without explanation. But the silence between them had that warm, comfortable quality to it that brought a smile to his face. Simply enough, silence shared with Annie made him less lonely than a crowd full of well-meaning friends.
Catching up to her, he grabbed her hair as he had done so many times when they were growing up. She squealed when he pulled her to his side.
Sparks flew from her brown gaze. “Not funny, Marcus.”
He loosened his grip but didn’t let go. Damn, but she felt good against him. All warm, cuddly and still a little sooty. He grinned just like that. “So what did this poor guy do?”
She stiffened under his hold. “Fell in love with a friend of mine.”
“Ouch,” he said, feigning mock pity.
She decked him in his ribs with a surprise move, her mouth set tight. “It isn’t funny, Marcus. It hurts.” A curse flew from her mouth, dealing an invisible punch. “I’m sick and tired of people thinking Annie doesn’t mind, Annie doesn’t have feelings.”
He stared at her and felt a strange tightness in his gut, a sneaking feeling that there was something he wasn’t seeing. “God, Annie. I never thought that.”
“Didn’t you, Marcus?” She picked up her backpack from the ground and shied her gaze away from him. “It’s my own damn fault anyway. All my life, I’ve played the good friend, the good daughter, even the good arrellin. I even went to bloody London because it was my dad’s last wish.”
“Yes, because he wanted you to see other places,” he said, unable to resist pointing the obvious. “The decision to stay there for four years was yours.”
“And what was I supposed to come back…” She hesitated, and turned away from him. “It’s going to change from today.”
He braced himself. “What do you mean?”
“I’m going to grab life by the horns, Marcus,” she said, with a funny little glance his way. “I’m going to be selfish. I’m going to do what I want.”
Chapter 2
They reached Marcus’s lakeside cottage a few minutes short of midnight. Annie could hear the hoots and laughter from the village square just as she climbed the steps to the main door. “Aren’t you going?” she said almost hopefully.
He pushed open the door to his cottage and hovered at the entrance. “No. You?”
“God, no,” she said, a shiver flaring over her skin. “That’s all I need-”
His hand on her wrist tugged her back. “Afraid everyone will tell you how much they have missed you?”
It was the displeasure in his words more than the content that stopped Annie short. Just as the first chime reverberated all over the tiny village.
“Just because I lived in London doesn’t mean I don’t care about anyone here.”
The silence around them was heavy with unspoken words. Another
chime. Fourth or fifth, Annie lost count.
Suddenly an idea sprang into her mind, her insides vibrating at the mere thought.
She gazed at him, studying the hard planes of his face. “Did you, Marcus?”
He frowned. “Did I what?”
Number nine.
“Miss me?”
“Do you care?”
Number ten.
This was it. She would never have the courage to ask Marcus to kiss her otherwise. This way, she at least had an excuse. Wasn’t this what her ritual had been about?
Goodbye to old pain, and welcome to new risks.
She moved down from the steps, and the eleventh chime struck.
She cupped his jaw as she had done so many times. And yet he already felt different to her. “I missed you, Marcus, a lot. I wanted to come and see you so many times.”
“Hell, Annie. Why didn’t you? You left Grace’s funeral before I could even get a chance to talk to you.”
“It was for the best.”
His gaze searched hers as though he was seeing her anew. As though he had suddenly realized that there was more to her.
Hell, yeah, there was.
Twelfth chime struck and hoots and yells could be heard from the square. Fireworks blazed in the sky.
Annie dropped her hands on his shoulder, bent her torso forward. Her breath stuck somewhere between her chest and her throat. “Happy New Year, Marcus,” she whispered, bending low, and pressed her mouth to his.
#
She tasted like soot and coal. He knew this because he was kissing Annie.
The thought spun around in infinite little circles in Marcus’s head.
He was kissing the girl whose pigtails had driven him to do crazy things. He was kissing the girl who had sat through with him the whole night when his first girlfriend had dumped him.
Or rather she was kissing him.
Except suddenly she didn’t taste like smoke anymore. She tasted like sunshine, strawberries and hot sex. Her hands in his hair, she tugged his lower lip with her teeth. And then swiped over it with an erotic flick of her tongue.
Damn it, where had the girl learned to kiss like that?
Marcus groaned, lust crashing through him. He was kissing Annie and it felt damn good.
Better than good, it felt bloody fantastic.
He pushed her inside and kicked the door closed. No way was he putting on a show for anyone in the town. His hands on her waist, he pushed her towards the right wall.
Her hands twined around his neck, she whimpered as he licked the seam of her lower lip. He swallowed the sound and pushed his tongue inside. And his blood flew south.
He caressed the inside of her mouth and sucked on her tongue. She moved her hands underneath his sweater. A roar thundered in his ears, his muscles tightening from her feathery touch.
Digging his hands into her hair, he trailed a line of hot, open-mouthed kisses down her jaw.
Her hands moved lower and traced his erection.
With a groan, he grabbed her wrists, and pulled them up, his breathing harsh and fast.
He looked into her brown gaze. Arousal and something else he couldn’t define, danced in her gaze. It should have felt awkward. It didn’t.
The strength of how much he wanted to be here with her, how much he wanted to continue, didn’t bother him at all.
“If you touch me, I can’t stop, Annie. It’s been six months and you taste like heaven and if you touch me…I swear Annie, I won’t be able to stop until I’m inside you.”
He pressed a fierce kiss again before she could even reply. Just in case she said no, in case this never happened again, and he needed to remember how erotic she tasted.
A smile curved her mouth, the cute little dimple in her right cheek the sexiest he had ever seen. She tugged the zipper on her coat, and threw the bulky thing away.
The long sleeved pink tee was wet and clung to her breasts, the sight of the hard nipples sending another wave of desire roaring through him. His jeans were uncomfortably tight.
She clutched the hem of her tee and plucked it off in one smooth movement. Pink lace fondled small, high breasts. “I don’t want you to stop, Marcus,” she said, a shy smile curving her lips. Her hands lingered on the waistband of her jeans. “But this is as far as my courage will go.”
Something other than lust zigzagged through him but Marcus was too far gone to pay attention to it. With a smile, he made short work of their clothes. Unhooking her bra, he fondled her breasts, unable to wait. Arching her back, she pushed herself into his touch.
It was all the approval Marcus needed. He took her nipple into his mouth and suckled it. Her throaty scream was just enough to push him to the edge. He grabbed a condom from his wallet, pushed his jeans down and pulled it on.
His hands on her waist, he lifted her against the wall, and she wrapped her legs around him.
He pushed her thong out of the way, and pushed into her in one deep thrust.
Their mingled groans rent the room, filling the very air they breathed. Every sinew and muscle in him was taut with the need to move, to thrust into her like a…
“God, Marcus. Please…move... or something,” she said, her words slurring on top of each other.
He began a slow rhythm but only by the skin of his teeth. She dug her teeth into his shoulder and bit him, hard. Marcus lost the last ounce of control. A groan fell from his mouth. He increased his pace and thrust deeper and longer into her.
He pressed his mouth to her breast and tugged the nipple softly with his teeth.
She fell apart, the most sensuous sounds falling from her mouth and Marcus thrust one last time.
He looked into her beautiful brown eyes just as pleasure splintered into a million waves in and around him. He saw something in that gaze that tugged at him.
And even the heaven of her tight body wasn’t enough to blind him to the shadow of the pain she didn’t hide fast enough.
Chapter 3
Marcus was seriously beginning to get pissed off. The day had been one hectic thing after the other. And any free minutes he’d had between that, he had spent trying to locate Annie. Whom he hadn’t seen since New Year’s Eve two days ago.
By the time, he had woken up the next morning, she had, of course, disappeared. Deciding to give her the space she needed, he had held off. And waited.
And he was still waiting.
First, he’d had the sinking thought that she had fled again.
Except wherever he turned, the whole damn village was talking about her. Because everybody in Coombethwaite loved Annie, had missed Annie. More than one guy was excited over her return. The very thought nauseated him now.
So she was avoiding him. And a damn good fireman he was that he couldn’t locate a twenty-five-year-old woman in the tiny village.
He made quick work of his sandwich at the village pub. He was just about to step out when he ran into old Mr. Marshall, one of the partners from the local law firm, Morris and Marshall.
“Hey, Marcus. Annie Bennett came to see me this morning. Wanted to lease the bakery to open it again.”
So, she was back for good. The thought cheered him up no end.
He nodded. “Did you tell her I own the property?”
“No. I said I would let her know in the evening. She’s down there right now, checking out everything. I didn’t see any problem in letting her walk around.”
“Already? Won’t she need an influx of cash to get it going first?”
“Oh, she has everything ready, Marcus. She’s putting up a little of her own money and a loan has been approved by the bank for the rest of it. I mean, she practically ran that bakery even before Henry died and it’s not like Max of all people was going to refuse her a loan, right?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows, as though it was all very funny.
Marcus didn’t think it funny at all. Their slick little banker had had a thing for Annie since they had both been in diapers.
Marcus took off towards the Bennett
Bakery. Even though Annie had closed it down when her father died four years ago, and then moved to London, everyone still thought of it as Bennett Bakery.
Apparently, the little minx had everything planned perfectly.
Except he wasn’t sure he liked just being an item on her list of risks that was done and crossed off. This time, he wasn’t going to stand by and be ignored. Not after what they had shared.
A fresh dose of anger diluted the excitement thrumming through his veins.
But even the anger was a thousand times better than the numbing loneliness of the past three years.
#
Annie made another quick note in her notepad, old memories and new excitement building inside her chest again. The moment she had stepped into her dad’s old bakery, she knew she had made the right decision.
This was where she belonged.
Of course, she still had to face Marcus, still had to deal with the consequences of their…
Just thinking about it sent heat cruising to all kinds of places she didn’t want to think of in the middle of the day. She still couldn’t believe how bold she had been. And how incredibly good it had felt. She had done far more than she had dared think even in her wildest dreams.
She couldn’t regret it but she was already wondering what the fall-out would be.
Would she lose Marcus’s friendship now? How long could she avoid him? Would every conversation between them turn awkward now? Wasn’t that why she had held back all these years?
She blew her breath out hard and leant against the wall. Then slithered to the floor like a deflated balloon.
If only she didn’t miss him so much.
The niggling fear only solidified in her mind now.
She would always be in love with him.
All she could do now was to accept it and live her life as best as she could.
The view from the floor cheered her up a little.
Whoever had bought the property had taken very good care of it. All she needed was to hire a couple of part-time helpers for the morning baking, install the new billing machine she had bought in London, start ordering supplies again and she would be good to open in a fortnight at the worst.
