by Sara Orwig
“The hotel? I don’t think so.”
“Wait a minute,” he said, laughing. “You can have your very own room and I’ll have mine if that’s what you want.”
“It would be, but these are the only clothes I have with me.”
“I covered that, too. I have a few things in my pickup and you can get through the night if you can wear the same clothes home in the morning.”
Laughing, she shook her head. “I assume you have stuff in that box in your pickup. Walk to the hotel it is.”
“Good.” He turned to rummage in the back of his pickup and handed her a small backpack and got one for himself. “How’s that?”
“It works,” she said, glad to walk to their hotel, since it was a nice night and she could use the fresh air. “I’m glad you asked me tonight,” she said.
“Yeah. We needed an evening out. How’re the courses coming?”
“I’m doing way better than I expected, and faster. That’s really all I have to do right now.”
“I talked to my mom today. My grandpa wants to come home to the ranch. They can’t do anything more for him at the hospital, so we can either move him to a skilled nursing facility or to the ranch. He wants to come here and I can get it set up so he can have home health care and be fine. It’ll move Grandma home, too, of course, and that would be good for both of them. I know he’d be happier here, so that’s what I’m going to do. I just wanted you to know.”
“This is his home,” she replied with a nod. “Will that change anything as far as we’re concerned?”
“Not at all. They’ll be in their house and the only time we’ll see them is if we go there,” he explained. “I’ll have someone to take care of Grandma, too. She just needs someone to help her with little things.”
“That’s good, Marc.”
“I’ll go see them, but it won’t involve you.”
“Take me with you sometimes. Your grandfather wanted this marriage, so it should make him happy to see me. He thinks I’m in your life forever.”
He smiled down at her. “That’s nice, Lara.”
“Tonight was fun. I haven’t danced like that in a long time.”
“I haven’t either when I stop and think about it.”
“You work hard. You’ve told me how hard your mom works. Well, you do, too. You know, I think this year will be a break from all the traveling you’ve had to do. You fly to look at leases, at wells you have, to corporate meetings with companies where you plan to buy land or rights from them. This is a whole different way of life. I’m sure it’s hard, physical work, very different from what you’ve been doing. And now you’re home nights.”
“I like that corporate world and I don’t mind the travel. I’m not that locked into being home nights.”
She laughed. “I’m glad we don’t have a real marriage, then.”
He grinned and hugged her. “If you were in my bed every night, I wouldn’t want to leave the ranch. I wouldn’t want to leave the bedroom.”
“Yes, well, enough about that.”
Luckily they reached the hotel then, calling a halt to that line of conversation. It was a new, three-story building, part of a national chain with well-lit, landscaped grounds.
“Our rooms are the penthouse suite.”
She laughed. “The penthouse suite on the third floor.”
“Actually, there is a small fourth floor and they do call it the penthouse suite. As I said, you have your own room—in our penthouse suite.”
“So we share the suite, but I have my own room. I can live with that.”
He wiped his brow in an exaggerated gesture. “That was easier than I thought it would be. Maybe I should have tried sharing a room tonight.”
“That wouldn’t have worked,” she told him, wagging a finger.
He laughed. “It was a thought.”
She waited while he checked in and then he took her arm and they went to their suite. When she walked inside, he closed the door, shed the backpack, just as she had. He tossed his hat on the sofa and crossed the room to her. She turned around to say something to him and forgot what she intended to say when she looked into his eyes. She couldn’t get her breath. She was torn between what she should do, what she wanted to do and what he could coax her into doing. Was she going to blow all her resolutions the first night out with him?
Six
He slipped his arms around her and pulled her to him as he leaned down. “I’ve been waiting to do this all evening long,” he said and kissed her.
The minute his mouth covered hers, her heart slammed against her ribs and she was breathless. She couldn’t say no or step away. They had constantly touched while dancing, constantly been with each other. But this was different. She was in his arms and she wanted his kisses.
She clung to him tightly as he held her close and leaned over her, kissing her hard and making her pulse race.
His hand ran down her back and over her bottom, and she moaned softly. She thrust her hips against him. There was no denying she wanted him now. How was she going to resist his kisses? Did she really want to resist?
One night with her husband—would that be a disaster?
She wound her fingers in his thick hair, feeling the short locks curl around her fingers. When his hand slipped beneath her shirt to caress her breast, she gasped with pleasure.
“Marc,” she whispered, knowing she should stop him, yet wanting his hands and his mouth on her. She wanted to hold and kiss him and wanted him to touch and kiss her. Temptation and desire had built all evening, if she was honest. Sure, she’d had fun, an exciting time, and his appeal had increased with each hour of dancing and touching each other and laughing together. When had she had that much fun with a man? Not ever. Marc was more fun than any other man she had known. That thought scared her. She didn’t want to find Marc anything more than any other man. He would go out of her life later, so she needed to show some restraint.
He kissed her again and then all thought was gone. She was consumed by him. Marc’s passionate kisses shut the world away and all she could think about was holding him and kissing him. He ran his thumb lightly over her nipple, tightening it into a taut peak. She loved the feel of it, but it wasn’t enough for him, because in seconds he tugged her blouse out of her jeans and twisted free the buttons, opening her blouse while never removing his lips from hers. Each caress, each touch built her need, until longing had her trembling.
Moaning softly, she slid her hands across his broad shoulders. She could feel his erection pressing against her. She knew she should stop. She had promised herself she would use restraint and do what she could to avoid seduction. She hadn’t been here a week yet, and she was in his arms, letting him fondle her breast. This wasn’t the way to guard against heartbreak. The warning was dim, a whisper to her conscience, and she ignored it momentarily. She wanted just a few minutes more in his arms. All evening she had wanted his kiss, wanted to be in his arms. She couldn’t stop this yet.
She leaned away to pull his shirt free of his jeans, just as he had done her blouse. In minutes she had his shirt unbuttoned and she ran her hand over his bare chest while they continued to kiss. His hard muscles did not surprise her because she knew he went to the gym every lunch hour he was in the office. Her fingers tangled in the fine curls before they slid to his flat belly and lower. Her foray was stopped when he pushed aside her bra and leaned down to take her nipple into his mouth, his tongue stroking her, hot and wet, a torment that made her want more.
She gasped with pleasure while she clutched his shoulders. Her eyes were closed and she was captured by sensation, captivated by his mouth and his hands moving so lightly on her, yet setting her ablaze with longing.
“Marc,” she whispered. She knew she should stop, knew every kiss, every touch was bringing trouble, heading her toward seduct
ion.
He shoved her blouse off her shoulders and unfastened her bra, pushing it aside so he could cup her breasts and kiss her. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “So beautiful.” His hungry gaze made her tremble and want his hands and mouth all over her.
She gasped when he bent to pick her up and carry her to a bedroom.
When he set her on her feet, she caught his arms to steady herself. Then she looked up at him. “You’re going too fast for me.”
“We’re married, Lara,” he whispered. “And I want you.”
“It’s still too fast, Marc. We’re married in a marriage of convenience. There isn’t a shred of love and that’s a gigantic difference for me. This is pure sex without any love. I need to slow down. We talked about each of us wanting to avoid falling in love. Well, I’m sure you’re impervious and could sleep all year with me and still walk away at the end of the year. But going to bed and making love with someone is emotional for me. I can’t do that all year and then walk away. I’ll be in love,” she said, emphasizing in love and hoped that would cool him. “We’ve kissed and we’ve had a fun evening. Let’s call it a night.”
He stroked locks of hair away from her face, and she saw the battle play out in his eyes, desire at war with common sense. Then, finally, he brushed a kiss on her cheek and let her go. “Okay. It’s a deal,” he said. “It still was the best evening I’ve had in a long, long time.”
She smiled at him. “That’s the best possible thing you could say. I’m so glad. It was a fantastic evening for me and I had a wonderful time, you sexy man. I couldn’t wait to come back and kiss you. You’re very exciting, my convenient husband.”
“Damn, you send a mixed message.”
“You got my message and I appreciate your cooperation. I hope we get to do that again sometime. Just go a little slower so I can deal with my emotions. I’m trying to stop myself from crawling into your bed and wanting to stay. That would mean getting hurt badly when we part.”
He nodded his understanding, but he didn’t move away. He stood watching her as she pulled her blouse back into place and blushed as she fastened the middle button.
“That’ll do for now,” she said, picked up her backpack and walked with him across the hall into another large bedroom. While he switched on the lights, she dropped her things on a chair.
“Here you are. I hope you sleep well.” She turned to look at him and once again was caught in thickly lashed eyes that conveyed so much desire, she was riveted. All she could think about was kissing him again.
“Aw, hell,” he whispered as he grabbed her and kissed her passionately. Finally, he released her and stepped back. She opened her eyes to find him watching her.
“Marc—”
He put a finger to her lips to silence her. “It was a good night and we’ll do it again. And sometime, maybe sooner than you think, you won’t tell me to go away. But for now, good night.” After a few steps he turned back. “If you want anything, or if you want me, just call.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Thank you. Don’t lay awake waiting for my call,” she said.
* * *
He grinned and left, closing the door behind him. As he walked away, he wiped sweat off his brow. She made him hot enough to melt. He was surprised by the fun he’d had with her tonight and for the last hour they were there, all he could think about was coming back and kissing her and making love to her. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight. But it wouldn’t be long, because she couldn’t resist kissing him. Meanwhile, he feared he’d get little sleep this night.
He’d had a fun evening—far more than he had expected. When he decided to go to the bar, he’d known the guys would be fun. He hadn’t expected much from his city-bred secretary, but he’d thought she might like to get out. How she had surprised him. She could dance and she was exciting, bouncing with eagerness, her big, blue eyes sparkling. He’d wanted to take her back to the hotel, to his bed, make love, hold and kiss her all night long. And the realization shocked him.
He had been numb to women since he lost Kathy. Well, Lara was bringing him out of mourning. He hadn’t wanted to dance, to kiss, to take anyone out since he had lost his wife—his real wife, whom he loved with all his heart. He felt as if he had been wrapped in grief for the past fourteen months, but tonight he’d been able to shake off some of the numbness. And he knew Kathy would want him to. She wouldn’t want him to go through life dulled by pain and grieving for his losses. She had been filled with a love of life and she would want him to live again. It was just surprising that it was Lara who had vanquished some of that terrible numbness in his life.
Still, he wasn’t ready to fall in love. He couldn’t, wouldn’t. And he didn’t want Lara to fall in love, either. He didn’t want to hurt her when they parted.
I’m trying to stop myself from crawling into bed and wanting to stay.
He recalled her words.
They had kissed more tonight than he had expected she would let him. At the same time, he also knew that wasn’t what she really wanted. She was guarding her heart and she had requested no sex—and he had agreed. He couldn’t go back on his promise. He needed to resist temptation and keep this relationship in the friend zone. Could he be a good guy and an honorable man, and keep his word?
* * *
Wednesday night Lara drove to Denton to go to class—an hour and a half each way. Despite the distance, Marc was sure she wouldn’t miss one class. She’d be a good doctor, that was certain. She was smart, determined, caring.
He missed her tonight. Alone in the house, he grabbed a beer and went outside to the balcony off his suite. He lay back on a chaise, looking at the stars and thinking.
There was much about Lara that reminded him of his mother. Her drive and determination, for example. And he appreciated it, because, like his mother, she had gone above and beyond for him, too, starting with suggesting they marry in his grandfather’s hospital room. Very few women would have done that and Marc would always be grateful to her.
And she’d bowled over his mother, too.
He thought of Pilar Medina and was grateful for her sacrifices, as well. Now that he knew Dirkson Callahan was his blood father, he could understand her struggling against terrible odds to make a success of her tiny business when she lost her job with the Callahans.
Dirkson Callahan—his father.
Marc took a long pull on the beer. He couldn’t believe that Dirkson was his biological father. He was a selfish man who seemed to love no one and nothing except himself, money and power.
Marc thought of his mother being pregnant, fifteen, on her own until she met his dad, no money, nothing. She didn’t want to tell her parents. She hadn’t wanted to rely on them because they were struggling to make a home and a life for themselves here. She’d met his real dad, the dad Marc loved and the dad who loved him. With John Medina they were a family with strong ties, and Dirkson Callahan was no part of it.
Marc took another swallow of beer, the bitter taste in his mouth not from the brew but from the mere thought of that horrible man.
He stared into the darkness. There was no reason to tell Lara, but a part of him wanted to share the news that still had him in knots. But he wouldn’t. When this marriage ended, they would go their separate ways and he wouldn’t see her again. And that wasn’t his baby she carried.
He thought of his own child, who had been cruelly taken from him. His mom had said he wouldn’t be able to walk away from Lara’s baby when it was born. Was that true? For a few months he would be that baby’s father. Would the child capture his heart?
And what about its mother?
He couldn’t stop thinking about how he wanted Lara in his bed. How much would that complicate his life? How much would it make him want her as part of his life longer than this one year they had planned? He couldn’t imagine falling in
love, not when he wasn’t truly over losing his wife. Would it make for a stronger tie to Lara when her baby came? That gave him pause. He needed to back off and stick to his original plan to avoid sex with her, but nights like tonight—with nothing to do but think about her—made him want her in spite of common sense and the upheaval she could cause in his life.
He finished the beer and closed his eyes on his disturbing thoughts. It was two in the morning when he woke in the darkness and moved inside, flopped on the bed and went back to sleep.
When he woke again, it was daylight. Frowning, he looked at the clock and jumped out of bed. He had overslept. Something he never did. He rushed to shower and soon was in jeans and a flannel shirt and ready for the day. As he walked down the hall, tempting smells of hot coffee and bacon frying assailed him. He rushed into the kitchen.
Lara spun around. She wore a blue cotton robe that was open and thin blue cotton pajamas beneath the robe. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders and fell freely around her face. She looked as if she had been awake only a short time.
“Good morning,” he said, crossing to her, drawn as if by a magnet. Last night’s warning to be cautious in getting involved with her vanished like smoke on the wind.
Her cheeks turned pink and she put down a spatula to pull her robe together. “Good morning. I figured you were long gone.”
“I overslept,” he said. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. She was soft and the thin cotton robe and pajamas were almost nonexistent. As her soft curves pressed against him, her eyes flew wide. “Marc, I’m not dressed.”
“Yeah, I noticed and I like it. You look gorgeous,” he said and kissed away her answer. For one startled second, she was still, and then her arms went around his neck and she kissed him in return.
He was hard instantly. He wanted her. He wanted to slip her out of the robe and pajamas and carry her back to bed. Instead, he stood there kissing her, relishing her softness, her warmth, her kiss that was setting him on fire.
“Marc.” She finally moved out of his embrace. Her cheeks were pink and her mouth red from their kiss. “Breakfast is burning,” she said, turning to grab the spatula and turn the strips of bacon. “Now look.” She poked the scorched bacon.
