Her gaze never left his. “Umm … it’s normal sized—”
“Big enough for two?”
Susan’s mouth went dry. She craved Mark’s touch. Twice this evening he’d almost brought her to tears with his calm tenderness. He was such a good guy, and she found that wildly attractive. Here was a man who, if he said he’d be somewhere, would be there. A man who could cook a meal when he saw you needed one. A man who listened and didn’t judge. The sort of man one could fall hopelessly head over heels for—if he was planning on staying.
But this man wasn’t. He’d been very clear about that. All he promised was a temporary haven in the storm.
A more sensible woman would stop this right now. But she was tired of being sensible. Right now, she just wanted to feel.
She slid her hands up his arms, his skin warm beneath her fingertips. It was time to do something purely for herself, something that would wipe all of her cares out of her head.
She slipped an arm around Mark’s neck and said in a sultry tone, “I’m not sure my shower’s large enough for us both, but I’m willing to find out.” With a smile, she took his hand and led him inside and up the stairs.
Chapter 17
She led him to her room, where he got a blurred impression of muted colors and a huge, beckoning bed. Mark swung her into his arms, pushed the door closed, and carried her to the mounds of pillows and blankets.
He yanked his clothes off as she found a condom in her bedside table. He donned it with hands shaking with eagerness.
As she quickly undressed, each inch of silken skin she revealed made him more crazed for her.
He sank into the bed beside her, his foot hitting something on the floor on his way. He looked down. There on the rug were a pair of sexy red high heels. He lifted them, dangling them by their straps. “Are these yours?”
She nodded. Reclining upon the mounds of pillows and blankets, she looked like a Greek goddess, all seductive hollows and white marble skin. “I have a lot of shoes like those.”
“I’ve never seen you wear them.”
Faint color touched her cheeks. “I suppose I should. I just don’t enjoy the sort of clothes that go with them.”
His grin was wicked. “Then maybe you shouldn’t wear anything with them.”
Her eyes widened as he slipped the shoes on her feet, marveling at the delicate curves of her legs. She was so beautiful; these fools in Glory had no idea what a jewel was in their midst.
She laughed softly and stretched out one leg, her calf flexing sexily. His cock tightened even more and he captured her foot and placed a kiss to the delicate hollows around her ankle. She shivered and sighed his name. Then he pressed kisses on the inside of her calf, the hollow of her knee, and higher still. He caressed the inside of her thighs, savoring her warm skin beneath his lips.
When he reached her silken center, the red shoes came down to rest on his back. He gently pressed a kiss between her thighs, making her gasp and arch against his mouth. God, she tasted sweet! He teased and tempted, swirling his tongue over her as she writhed in passion.
He could tell she was close to release so he pulled back, wanting to savor it with her. He lifted himself over her and pressed the tip of his hard cock against her, looking deep into her eyes.
Her face awash with passion, she squirmed against him, begging him. It took all of his strength to hold off, but he did, tasting her neck and face, capturing her mouth with a deep, searching kiss as he slowly, so slowly, lowered himself into her.
Instantly her tight wetness grasped him, and Mark had to fight his own passion as well as hers. Never had he felt such a wanton wetness. His body went rigid with desire as he forced himself to move inside her with a slow, relentless tempo.
She gasped and came against him, clutching him between her thighs, her shoes pressing into his back, sparking fire through him. He groaned, forcing his body to maintain the slow speed.
Susan was soon moaning again, thrashing against the pillows, her dark red hair streaming over them. Mark slipped his arms beneath her shoulders, sinking his hands into her soft hair as he drove deeper into her. She gasped—then passion overtook him and he came deeply inside of her.
Mark awoke from his brief doze and blinked sleepily, his memory instantly returning to the shared shower followed by another passionate romp in this bed. He smiled and reached over—
She was gone. He rolled to his elbow, frowning. Where—then he saw that the bathroom door was open, and he heard the shower running.
He got up, exploring the unabashedly feminine room with interest. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but this wasn’t it. There was a crystal and silver chandelier, while a chair held an open book and a soft throw. He paused before a movie poster. “Lois Lane.” He grinned. “Of course.”
“And what’s wrong with Lois Lane?”
Susan stood in the doorway wearing a towel turban and a purple silk robe that clung in all the right places.
He eyed her appreciatively. “Wrong with Lois Lane? Not a damn thing.”
She grinned cheekily. “Good. I hate having to throw a man out of my bed before a good cuddle.” She crossed to the bed, hopped onto it, and patted the cover invitingly. “You up for it?”
Strangely enough, he was. He sat beside her, slipped an arm about her waist, and slid them down to recline on the mounds of pillows. “Do you sleep with all of these?”
“Sometimes. I like to have them all around me like a pillow cocoon.”
He chuckled. “Is your bed partner allowed inside your cocoon?”
“If he’s earned it.” She rested her turbaned head against his shoulder, smelling very sweet and sexy. Instantly his body stirred to life.
This was nice. Better than nice, in fact. He’d had passion galore in his marriage, but not much else. Without that something else there was little left as the passion cooled.
In retrospect, the relationship had been doomed to failure from the beginning, but that hadn’t stopped his heart from being spectacularly flayed.
After Arlene had left, he’d never thought to find that heady rush of pure, unadulterated desire again. He hadn’t, until he’d met Susan.
Which was why she was safe. So long as they had this frantic lust burning between them, his heart would know better than to become engaged. No one touched a hot stove twice.
“Mark, when do you have to go back to Raleigh?”
“Soon. Corporate tax season is just starting to gear up.”
“Oh.” She traced a lazy finger over his chest. “Roxie says you love your job.”
“I do, especially once we started acquiring.”
“What’s that?”
“We take over businesses that are failing.” He grinned wolfishly. “Sometimes I feel like a pirate in a suit.”
She chuckled. “You look like one now.” They were silent a moment and then she said, “Mark? Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” He snuggled in deeper beside her, breathing in her scent. Damn, he loved how she smelled.
She looked him straight in the eyes. “Where do we go from here?”
Alarms sounded in his peaceful state. “What do you mean?”
Her blue, blue eyes fastened on his. “Even though you’re leaving soon, it seems a waste to just let this—” She gestured toward the space—and lack thereof—between them. “—go to waste.”
“I suppose we’ll just have to make the most of it.”
“I thought the same way myself, at first.”
“At first?”
She nodded, her expression uncertain.
“And now?”
“There’s a problem. I’m afraid I could come to like it.”
His heart sank. It would be so easy to say something ambiguous, something nonthreatening. It was on his tongue to do so, when he met her candid gaze and blurted the truth. “Susan, I’m not staying in Glory. I have a company waiting for me in Raleigh.” In addition to corporate taxes due in six weeks, he was scheduled to present two semina
rs in various states to recruit new team members, and brief the board of directors. “Maybe you could come to Raleigh sometimes. There’s no reason why we can’t still see each other.” At least while it lasts.
She sat up, her expression inscrutable. “When will you leave?”
“A month, maybe two if I can swing it.”
“And after that?”
“Maybe I could come here on weekends, and you could come there once in a while.” He ran his hand down her silken arm. “It will be fun.”
“Maybe. I’ll have to think about it.” She climbed from the bed, her long legs displayed for a moment before the robe settled around her.
His smile faded. “What are you doing?”
“Getting dressed. You should go, too. Dad will come back soon.”
Mark watched as she pulled yoga pants and a top from a drawer and hastily donned them, giving him a tantalizing look at her back and ass. She was a wonder, all lean and supple, and he desired her more now than he had an hour ago. She was an incredible partner and they’d made passionate love, bumping their heads and elbows in their hunger to be as close to each other as they could.
“Susan, come back to bed.”
She pulled the towel from her head and long ropes of wet hair fell about her shoulders. “I don’t think so.”
He moved to the edge of the bed and swung his feet to the ground. “You want more than just … this.”
“Yes.” She paused in drying her hair with the towel. “I want things I can’t have. I want to know that this is going to last. That this isn’t just a weekend event for you and nothing more.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “No, it’s even more than that. Mark, I want to know that you’ll stay with me forever.”
He froze. “That’s a lot.”
“I know it is. I could lie and pretend I don’t want that, but I’m not that kind of girl. I thought I could be; that I’d just take this relationship one day at a time and enjoy it, but—” She shook her head, a pained expression on her face. “Mark, I can’t. So we need to stop this before it goes any farther.”
“Susan, it … it takes time to make that sort of commitment. I don’t know if I’m ready for—”
She held up a hand and managed a shaky smile. “You don’t need to say anything more. I understand. It takes caring. And you don’t have that. Not for me, anyway.”
“It’s not like that—”
“It is for me.” She sat on the edge of the chair. “Mark, I can’t do this and not fall for you.”
“What’s wrong with that? If we keep seeing each other, then maybe—”
“You aren’t going to stay in Glory.”
He frowned. “No, but why can’t we—”
“Because I can’t leave Dad. I’m all he has.”
Mark hadn’t expected the conversation to get so serious, but he supposed he should have. Susan was funny and intelligent and steadfast. Suddenly, the question was not if she was enough for him, but if he was enough for her.
He wasn’t really sure.
Slowly, he stood. “I guess I’d better go, then.”
He dressed silently, his limbs heavy. They walked down the stairs in silence.
He wasn’t the sort of man to offer more than he had to give, and if she couldn’t accept that—He sighed as he walked through the door. “I’m sorry, Susan.”
She managed a smile. “Me, too. See you at the office.”
She shut the door and left him on the porch, standing in the cool night air and wondering why his heart ached as if someone had kicked it.
Chapter 18
Dear Bob,
The Baptist Bake-Off is coming soon, and I’m entering my coconut crème cake. My friend “Thelma” has competed for several years and has been telling me to enter for some time, but now that I have, she’s mad, saying I’m just trying to steal her thunder.
I want to keep Thelma as a friend, but I want a ribbon, too. She must have a dozen of them and it’s time I had one of my own.
What should I do?
Signed,
Cakeless in Glory
Dear Cakeless,
Sounds to me like your friend has a classic case of the Red Ass. You could either ignore her complaints and enter, or you two can find different categories so you’re not going head-to-head. By the way, I’d be glad to eat a piece of your cakes and make a recommendation as to which would fit in which category. Just bring them by the Examiner office!
Signed,
Bob
The Glory Examiner
August 21, section B3
On Thursday, Mark parked his Mustang and climbed out, looking at the newspaper building. He stood for a long while, noting that Susan’s Jeep was parked in its usual spot. That was the only usual thing about Susan nowadays. Since last week she’d been distant, and he absolutely hated it.
He missed the old Susan. The one who was comfortable in every situation she faced; the one who’d argue with him at the drop of a hat, and told him exactly what she thought and when. That Susan had been replaced with one who spoke when spoken to, answered any question he put to her, but never initiated one of her own. The whole thing made him feel lonely, somehow.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned away, feeling lower than low. How had it come to this? He wasn’t a person who made decisions lightly or—
“Mr. Treymayne!”
He turned to find Tundy waving at him from the Murder Mystery Club’s lemonade stand. Without anything better to do, he wandered toward her.
As soon as he reached the table, Clara wheeled up in her chair. “Did you hear about the excitement?”
“No.” The table was empty except for three lonely glasses of lemonade.
“I heard about it,” came Susan’s voice behind him.
She was looking fresh and cool, the breeze teasing a strand of hair from her ponytail. She avoided his gaze as she answered Clara. “I heard Robin Wright yelling that she was going to sue every one of you if she had to.”
“Pah.” Clara waved a dismissive hand, her fingers sparkling with the Home Shopping Network’s finest cubic zirconia and fake emerald rings. “That woman was just mad we wouldn’t sell her no more lemonade.”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
A crafty look settled over Clara’s face. “Can’t tell you. It’s a secret.”
“Would you sell me more lemonade?”
“Nope.”
“What about me?” Mark asked.
“Nope. You neither.”
“You guys have a lot of secrets, don’t you?” Susan said.
Clara couldn’t have looked happier. “More than any other club in town! Even the Kiwanis!”
Rose, who’d stalked by carrying a box of files, nodded. “Damned Kiwanis think they run the world. Well, ha! They don’t know half the things we know.”
“Oh, I doubt that.” Susan leaned against the table, arms crossed over her chest as she shrugged. “But even if it’s true, there’s no way you could have as many secrets as the Baptists.”
Clara stiffened. “I bet we do.”
Rose dropped her box of files, plopping her hands on her angular hips. “I know we have more secrets than the Baptists.”
“Maybe not the Catholics, though,” Clara added in a fair tone. “They’ve had longer to collect secrets than we’ve had.”
Rose thought about this. “Plus they have all of those vaults under the Vatican. Saw a show about that on TV.”
“I saw that, too,” Clara said. “We might not have as many secrets as them, since we don’t have the same storage capacity.”
Mark hid a grin, but Susan merely shrugged, obviously unimpressed. “Yeah, well, the Baptists have real secrets.”
Clara gripped the arms of her wheelchair. “We do, too!”
“Yup.” Rose nodded. “More than most people know.”
“Like what?” Susan asked, looking suspicious.
Clara and Rose exchanged glances. “Well …”
Rose shook her head. “You can’t
.”
“I know,” Clara said glumly. “But maybe we can tell her about last night?”
Rose brightened. “That’s not a secret.”
“Nope. Since Tundy filed a police report on it and all.”
Mark could almost feel Susan’s interest bloom.
“What is it?” she urged Clara on.
The older woman beamed. “Rose got broke into just like Miz Tundy’s!”
“What?”
“Yup.” Clara’s blue eyes were ablaze with pure happiness. “They broke into the window of Rose’s bedroom at the assisted-living center and tore the place apart while we were in the dining room having tapioca!”
“Tore the room apart? As if they were looking for something?”
“Yes, sirree! Turned out all of the drawers and pulled the mattress off the frame and ripped everything out of the closet and—” Clara suddenly waved across the parking lot. “Yoo-hoo! Pastor Lawrence! Want some lemonade?”
The new pastor, who’d been speaking with old Pastor MacMillan, waved and indicated he’d be there soon.
Rose leaned closer to Clara. “Do we want the old pastor to have some lemonade?”
Clara frowned. “I don’t know. Ask C.J.”
“C.J.!” Rose called. “Come here!”
C.J. was helping Tundy align the three glasses of lemonade on the corner of the far table, but at Rose’s call, he came up to her, a wary gleam in his eyes. “Yes?”
“Do we need to sell lemonade to the old pastor?”
He blinked, his white eyebrows arched in surprise. “How would I know?”
Rose snorted her agitation. “You have the list, silly!”
“Oh. Do I?” He pulled a small notebook from his shirt pocket and opened it. “I do, don’t I? Who were you asking about again?”
“The old pastor.”
“Right.” He thumbed through what appeared to be a list of names. Susan was leaning so far over the table trying to see it that Mark feared she might fall.
“Nope!” C.J. slapped the notebook closed and replaced it in his pocket. “We’ve already got the old pastor’s pr—”
“C.J.!” Tundy forced a fake smile and bustled the old man off, looking like the Energizer Bunny in her hot pink sweat suit. “Come along! Other side of the table! Gotta spread out the help, you know.”
Lois Lane Tells All Page 19
