“Orange juice sounds good.” She dried her hands on a dishtowel, folded it, and set it neatly on the counter.
The toast popped while he was pouring two glasses. Before he could react, she reached over and began buttering the slices. The simple domestic act made him catch his breath. He shook it off. Long suppressed emotions bubbled inside, seeking exit, but he held on tight.
She looked around for somewhere to set the toast, and raised her eyes to his, questioning.
The cabinet where he kept his plates was right behind her, so he stepped close and reached over her head.
Her arm skimmed against his chest as she turned to see what he was doing. A shiver swept through him at the contact, and he almost dropped the plate.
She skirted around him, putting the toast on the plate as she went. “Sorry. I guess I’m in the way.”
“No. You’re fine.”
After brushing her hands together, she shoved them in the front pockets of her jeans. The action pulled her blouse tight and he had to drag his eyes away.
Her quick retreat to the other side of the kitchen didn’t escape his notice. Trying to recover his composure, he took the pan off the stove and added the rest of the eggs to the new plate. “Come on, let’s go eat while it’s still hot.” His voice was gruffer than he intended.
Nodding, she took the plate he offered. He tore a couple of paper towels off the roll to use for napkins, grabbed the glasses of juice, and followed her around the corner to the table.
She took a bite. “This is good, Mark.”
“Thanks.” He shrugged. “It’s just eggs.” Pleasure surged through him at her compliment. It wasn’t just about the food. It was how she glanced around the apartment with interest, and not a hint of condescension, or worse, pity. She might not want to be close to him, but at least she had stayed to eat with him.
Jessie sipped her juice. “So, to answer your earlier question, I came by with some of your stuff I told you about.”
“My stuff?” He dropped his fork on the plate with a clatter and shot a look at the box. With all the things they had talked about that night at O’Leary’s, he’d forgotten that she had mentioned rescuing some of his things.
“Most of it’s there. There are a couple of lenses that were cracked. Since the box was full, I left them at my place. I can bring those by another time.”
He didn’t have money to repair cracked lenses so they could wait, but he’d grab at any excuse to get her to come by again, so he just nodded. ”That would be great.”
His leg bounced, jostling the juice and rattling his fork on the plate. It was all he could do to remain seated, so badly did he want to tear through the box right then and there. He took another bite of eggs, but he was no longer hungry. Instead, he felt like a kid on Christmas morning and couldn’t keep from sneaking peeks at the box as they continued eating.
She laughed. “Go ahead and look. I won’t be offended to be left finishing my meal alone.” Another smile took any possible sting out of the comment.
“I’m sorry…it’s just…well, it means a lot to me.” How to explain to her that it was more than just some photo equipment? It was like getting a part of himself back.
Mark jumped up from the table and reached the sofa in two long strides. He lifted the box and set it on the floor as he sat on the edge of the couch. His heart raced and he had to wipe his hands on his thighs. With a deep breath, he tugged the top off. Several of his cameras lay inside. He held one. It was the camera he used most and he blew some dust off the lens. The weight of it in his hands felt wonderful. So familiar. So natural. The strap hung loose and he put it around his neck, feeling it settle into the usual spot.
A surge of emotion swept through him, catching him off guard. His hands shook and he clutched the camera in a death grip. He heard Jessie get up and approach, but he couldn’t look beyond the camera in his hands. It was no more than a dark, watery shadow and his throat tightened. Blinking hard, he attempted to say thank you to her, but his voice failed him.
The couch creaked as she sat on the arm of it, and a second later, he felt her hand on his back. Without uttering a word, she rubbed slow circles, her hand warm even through his t-shirt. He pretended to work at some smudges with his thumb. After a few minutes, he lifted the camera from around his neck, set it on the table, and removed another. It was an older one he hadn’t used often, but below that, wrapped in dish towels, were some of his lenses. He smiled. With them and his favorite camera, he could begin to take on a few photo jobs. It would be tough, with so many photographers switching to digital, but it was a start.
He cleared his throat, and this time, he was able to speak. “Thanks, Jessie.” It was too soon to look at her yet. He didn’t trust his emotions that much. “This is...it’s fantastic.”
“You’re welcome.” She squeezed his shoulder.
There were two more towel-wrapped bundles in the box. The first was his long lens. Excitement surged through him, and he grinned. Now he was truly in business. He had all the basics. As he picked up the last bundle, Jessie’s hand tightened on his shoulder. Not a lot, but he felt her tension.
It was the camera. He knew it. Even wrapped in the cloth, the thrum of energy seeped into his hands. His brain screamed at him to drop it, but even as that command shot into his mind, his hands tore the towel off, as if seeking to get closer to the energy. “Damn it, Jessie!”
“Mark—”
Anger and fear gave his voice a hard edge as he cut her off. “I said I didn’t want this one. Why the hell did you bring it?”
Revulsion battled with an overwhelming attraction and he couldn’t let the camera go. Or wouldn’t let go. He wasn’t sure which. His fingers betrayed him and skimmed over the surface, tracing edges and flicking a speck of dirt off the steel rim around the lens.
“What was I supposed to do with it?”
“Get rid of it. Trash it. I don’t care.” He shrugged her hand off and stood, giving the camera a shake. “What am I supposed to do with it?”
Jessie crossed her arms. “I don’t care, Mark. You can toss it in the garbage for all I care.” She straightened, standing in front of him, her eyes boring into his. “I don’t think I have the right to decide its fate.”
“And you think I do?” He laughed, short and harsh. “You want to know about rights? I’ll tell ya about rights. If I use this damn thing again, I can kiss all my rights goodbye. Again.”
“You don’t know that.”
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t take that chance.”
She looked from the camera to him and shrugged. “I can’t tell you what to do with it. It’s just that the second you touched that thing, your whole body gave off a...a jolt of energy or something.” She held his gaze. “It didn’t do that for me.”
Mark broke eye contact, hating that he thrilled at the rush of electricity shooting up his arm. “I feel it, but...” His body hummed, just like it had the first time he’d touched the camera. Eventually, he’d become used to the energy or had learned to control it. Overwhelmed and unsure, he sank onto the couch, and even as he cursed the camera, he cradled it against his stomach. “If I use this again, they could lock me up—just like before.”
It surprised him to see tears on her face as she nodded. “Maybe. But maybe not.”
“I can’t risk it.” He finally pried it out of his hand and set it in the box. “Do you know what it’s like to lose every single right you ever had?”
She shook her head and sat beside him, her hand returning to his back. It felt good.
“Forget about liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That was history. Even the right to life was on pretty shaky ground.” Mark gave a bitter laugh, then scrubbed his hands down his face, letting his arms drape across his knees.
Her arm reached towards his opposite shoulder, and she pulled him close in a quick sideways hug, her head resting on his shoulder.
He turned his face, catching the scent of her hair. Clean and fresh, the sun lit the strands. Her eyes were c
losed, the dark lashes contrasting with her hair. When she opened them, she looked straight into his eyes, not moving her head.
Shifting, he twisted, one arm going behind her, resting on her waist. He brought his other hand up to stroke her face, looping her hair behind her ear. Her skin felt soft and warm, and he never wanted to stop touching it.
Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, and when she dropped her gaze to his mouth, he was lost. He moved his hand up to cradle her head, tangling his fingers in her hair. He lowered his mouth to hers, tasting. So sweet.
Jessie returned the kiss, and he felt the heat of her hand on his jaw and groaned, pulling her closer. She drove him crazy as she slipped her hand under the back of his shirt. She reclined, pulling him along with her, their mouths losing contact, but he found new territory on her neck as he balanced one foot on the floor and his other leg straddled her, his knee buried behind the sofa cushions.
She arched her back, exposing her throat, and he followed the line of her collar, kissing a path down. She moved her hand from his back to his hair, sending delicious shivers coursing through him. He needed to touch more of her. Needed her skin against his. He skimmed his fingers down her throat, just under the edge of her blouse. Her clothing barred his way, and he touched the front of her shirt, fingers poised on the first button.
Her breath, ragged and fast, matched his own, and he stopped before undoing the button, searching her face for permission. She nodded and reached to pull him down, tugging his shirt over his head.
He had to pause to regain control when her hands traced his chest. Nothing had ever felt so good. Leaning forward, he caught her lips again, and then moved his mouth up, trailing kisses over her cheek, to her forehead and hair, drinking in the taste and scent of her. She smelled of sunshine and oranges. She found a sensitive spot just below his ear and he shivered as her warm breath blew over the dampness left from her tongue.
Mark swallowed hard, and pulled away, before returning to nuzzle her neck, his hand working at the buttons on her shirt. Her bra had front closure and he smiled against her skin at his good fortune as he unsnapped it. She shuddered when he moved the cups out of the way.
He gave a growl of frustration when the back of the sofa got in the way of his attempt to remove her shirt completely. With a smile, she pushed him up, then stood and pulled her blouse off. With smile and a raised eyebrow, she reached for the quilt draped over the back of the sofa, and spread it over the carpet, and lay down on it.
The rest of the morning passed in a haze. After the first time, they lay panting, and he could have died right then and been happy. He might have dozed for a minute, but she shivered, waking him.
He rose on one elbow. “Are you cold?”
“Just a little.”
He got up and retrieved his other blanket from the closet. They snuggled beneath it with him spooning her, his arm bent, and her head rested on the angle of his elbow. He rested his cheek on her shoulder.
“Your chin is scratching me.”
“That’s because I didn’t shave this morning.”
“Bum.”
Mark chuckled. “Yeah, but if I’d have known you were going to come over and seduce me...”
“I didn’t seduce you!”
She glared at him over her shoulder, but broke into a grin when he quirked his mouth and said, “If you say so. I was just minding my own business.”
* * *
Jessie took a deep breath and stretched, her muscles protesting the hard floor beneath her. Mark still dozed, his breathing slow and even, one arm draped across his face, blocking out the bright sunlight. She curled against him and ran her hand up his belly, smoothed it over his warm skin, up over his ribcage. She scooted up to rest her head in the cradle of his shoulder, and turned her head, kissing his collarbone. He stirred, his arm falling to his side, but after a couple of deep breaths, he settled again.
She didn’t know how he could sleep so soundly. Her left hip ached from the pressure of the floor and if she didn’t get up soon, she’d be walking like a ninety-year old for a few days. Smiling, she nibbled a trail to the top of his shoulder. His skin smelled of soap, something clean and spring scented. She pressed into his side to kiss the side of his neck. Despite her complaint about his stubble, it looked sexy on him. The square jaw helped, she supposed.
She had never seen him this relaxed and took the moment to study his profile. His eyelashes were ridiculously long and thick. It wasn’t fair. His nose straight, cheekbones to die for, and she glanced down to his chest, with a ripped body to boot. Nope. Some things were just not fair. Not that she was complaining. Grazing her fingers over his chest, she snickered when he squirmed in his sleep. His eyes fluttered open. Green. Definitely more green than brown.
His mouth curved as he gave her a lazy grin. “Hey.” He arched his back, stretching. She swallowed at the play of muscles, enjoying the sight until he relaxed again with a contented sounding sigh, and turned to put his other arm over her.
“You okay?” He smoothed her hair back from her face, and she snuggled closer.
“I’m still hungry.” Jessie let her hand drift down his abdomen, feeling his stomach tighten in response.
The concern in his eyes evaporated and the corners crinkled into an eye smile. “I think I can take care of that.”
“Yeah? You think?”
“Absolutely.”
He nuzzled her neck, and when he reached her ear, she couldn’t take the exquisite torture anymore, and raised her shoulder, wriggling away with a gasp. “Aren’t we...we confident.” She tried to stifle another gasp he moved his hands down her body.
“Do you ever stop bickering?” His tone was playful and then his mouth moved lower, and Jessie did stop bickering.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, she pushed his shoulder. “Get up. This floor is killing me.”
Mark turned onto his stomach with a groan.
Sitting, she rolled her shoulders. “Hey, I really am hungry.”
Mark folded his arms, using them for a pillow, as he looked at her. “Yeah. I could use some food.” He smiled. “I guess our breakfast is cold and rubbery by now.”
Jessie stood, tugging the blanket off Mark to wrap it toga style around her. He didn’t seem to notice that he was lying naked. Or didn’t care. He watched her, an appreciative gleam in his eyes. Feeling shy, she lifted her chin and wrapped the blanket tighter. “What are you staring at?”
He just smiled and said, “You’re amazing, know that?”
A blush heated its way up her face and to cover her mixture of embarrassment and pleasure at his words, she nudged him in the ribs with her toe. “Get up, lazy bones. We’re going to get some lunch.”
He popped up from the floor as if a firecracker had exploded beneath him, the smile stretching into a grin. He grabbed his clothes and began getting dressed. “Sounds great. I’m starving.”
She had to laugh at his sudden change of demeanor, even as her face heated and she averted her eyes. “First, I need to go to the bathroom.”
Her clothes lay scattered, and after gathering them, she left the room. A few seconds later, she heard the coffee table slide back into place, followed shortly by the clatter of dishes in the sink.
After taking care of business, Jessie dressed and ran her fingers through her hair. Her clip was long gone, probably under the sofa by now. Mark had a comb sitting on the vanity, and she reached for it, but hesitated. After what they had just shared, she was sure he wouldn’t mind her using it, but she felt awkward. Should she ask first? What was he going to say? No?
After fixing her hair, she helped herself to his mouthwash. In for a dime, in for a dollar. She emerged to find him sitting on the sofa tying his shoes. He must have used the kitchen sink to freshen up because his hair was damp, like he’d run wet fingers through it.
“Ready to go?”
He stood. “Yeah.” In the space of time it had taken them to get ready, his air of playfulness had dissipated, and he
skimmed a hand through his hair, leaving a few strands sticking straight up before they fell back into place.
Jessie noted that his nerves seemed to match hers. What was next for them? She saw that the camera was on the couch. She took a deep breath and pointed her chin towards it. “How about we take that along?”
His eyes widened. “I—I don’t think so.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Not yet.”
Twenty-Two
The next few weeks were the best of Mark’s life. Every minute he and Jessie weren’t working, they spent together. Mark didn’t have a phone at his apartment, so Jessie began stopping by the camera shop on her lunch and they would make plans for the evening. More often than not, they ended up either at his apartment or hers. His sofa-bed wasn’t very accommodating, and the floor lost its charm after the first few times. Before long, he was spending most nights at her place.
One evening, Jessie lay on the couch, watching television, and he sat down, lifting her feet onto his lap. “I was wondering...would you mind if I used the second bathroom as a darkroom once in a while? It already has a vent to the outside, and I’d buy all the stuff, of course. I want to be prepared, in case...in case...”
“You thinking of using the camera again?”
He stroked a hand up her calf absently, and shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Sure. I guess so.”
Mark nodded. “Thanks.” He felt the weight of her gaze and pretended not to notice. Just because he wanted a place to develop the pictures didn’t necessarily mean he was going to actually use it again. A commercial blared, and he reached for the remote and began flipping through the channels, not really paying attention to any that he stopped on.
“Have you thought about giving up your apartment?”
Mark paused in his channel surfing, surprised at the question. “And move in here?”
“It doesn’t make sense for you to keep paying on that apartment and half the time, you’re not there. Plus, well, the darkroom will be here.” She turned towards the TV and pulled her feet off his lap.
Mark Taylor Omnibus (The Mark Taylor Series) Page 35
