“I take it she’s no longer living,” Cedar said. “You didn’t list any other relatives on the information sheet you filled out.”
“My mother died when I was twenty. She died before I could…well, that’s another story. Anyway, you have just heard the saga of the disastrous birdhouse created by Mark Chandler who, thank goodness, has a bit more expertise in the construction business now.”
“More than a bit, I’d say,” Cedar said. “Thank you for sharing the story about the birdhouse. You know, it might be a good thing for you and Joey to build something together.”
“Joey who?” Mark said.
“Oops. I broke the rules again. No client talk. It’s difficult, though, because Joey is such a big part of your life.”
Mark remained silent, willing her, it seemed to stick to the rules.
Cedar shifted her attention to a safe place, her dinner.
As she ate, she thought about what Mark had started to tell about his mother. It sounded as if he had wanted to do something for her, but she had passed away before he could accomplish it. What had he been referring to? His quick change of subject and tone of voice had made clear she shouldn’t push for details.
And what about his father? He had never once mentioned the man. He apparently was no longer living, either, because Mark hadn’t listed him on the information sheet. Had his father been there when Mark made the birdhouse? When his mother had died? Why hadn’t Mark made even one reference to his father?
“Cedar?”
“What? Oh, I’m sorry, I was woolgathering.”
“The waiter is headed this way with the dessert trolley. Are you game?”
“I don’t think I have room for…” Cedar stopped speaking as the waiter arrived at their table with the two-tier glass-shelf cart laden with scrumptious desserts. “Erase that. I’ll find room. Oh, look at those creations. I hardly know which one to pick.”
“I’ll have Black Forest cake,” Mark said.
“Yes, sir,” the waiter said, placing a plate with a huge slice of the gooey delight on the table. “Madam?”
“Oh, maybe not,” Cedar said. “The servings are all so large.”
“Why don’t we share this cake?” Mark said.
“Well, I guess…”
“Certainly, sir,” the waiter said, placing another fork on the table. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please,” Cedar and Mark said in unison.
Coffee arrived and the chocolate cake with the cherries dribbling down the sides was set in the center of the table.
Was there something rather…intimate about two people sharing one piece of cake? Cedar thought, picking up a fork. No, that was silly.
“Dig in,” Mark said, then took a bite of cake at the same moment she swallowed hers.
“I…I think I’ve had enough cake,” Cedar said, her voice trembling slightly, as she straightened in her chair. “It’s sinfully delicious, but…oh, I refuse to play games. There’s just something rather…rather…”
“Sensual about sharing a piece of cake?” Mark said.
“I’m being ridiculous,” Cedar said, fiddling with her napkin.
“If you are, then you have company, because it’s having the same effect on me, Cedar.”
Cedar looked up slowly to meet Mark’s gaze. “It is?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, placing his fork on the side of the plate. “Oh-h-h, yeah. Whew.”
Cedar opened her mouth to reply, then realized she didn’t have a clue what to say. She just sat there, hoping that Mark wasn’t noticing the flush she felt warming her cheeks.
“Your cheeks have turned a pretty pink,” he said.
So much for that hope, Cedar thought.
“That,” Mark said, pointing one finger at the dessert, “is one very potent piece of cake.”
In spite of her flustered state, Cedar laughed. “I think we’re back to being ridiculous,” she said.
“No, Cedar, there’s nothing ridiculous about it,” Mark said, suddenly serious. “We both felt the heat sizzling between us the minute I walked into your house tonight.”
“I…”
“You said you refuse to play games,” Mark continued, “and that’s really great to hear, because I don’t play games, either. You’ve felt what I have all evening, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” Cedar whispered.
“The question is, what are we going to do about it?” Mark said, his voice very deep and rumbly.
“I’d rather not discuss this…” Cedar glanced around. “…here.”
“You’re right. Shall we go?”
Cedar nodded and Mark signaled to the waiter for the check.
The drive to Cedar’s house was made in total silence.
In her living room Cedar went through the motions of offering Mark something to drink, which he declined. With a sigh she sank into an easy chair as Mark settled on the sofa.
“I can’t deny that I’m very attracted to you, Mark,” Cedar finally said. “That’s evident by the fact that I broke my own rule about never seeing a client socially. And, yes, I’m very aware that something extremely intense is happening between us. What it is, I don’t know, but it can’t be ignored.”
“I agree.”
“The thing is, I really have nothing to offer you. I have no intention of becoming involved in a serious relationship that might eventually lead to something permanent…like…like marriage. But since I met you, I’ve realized that I’ve been focusing entirely on my career. That’s fulfilled me for a long time, but now…well, while my success has grown beyond my wildest hopes, I’ve become rather lonely.
“You make me feel special, Mark. I feel more alive and complete and…I desire you, I won’t deny that. But if we make love, it would be an affair with no promises, no commitment to a future together.”
“I understand,” Mark said quietly. “I’m not in a position to commit to a permanent relationship, either, Cedar. I’m a long way from accomplishing what I’ve set out to do, and I won’t be pulled from that path.
“But I’m attracted to you, more than to any woman I’ve ever met. I don’t like the word affair, though. It sounds tacky, like ‘What the hell, why not, we don’t have anything better to do at the moment,’ and what we would share wouldn’t be like that. We can give and receive what we need, and there would be nothing, nothing, tacky about it.”
Mark got to his feet and crossed the room to stand in front of Cedar.
“I didn’t know I was lonely, either, until I met you. I want you, Cedar,” he said, his voice husky. “I want to make love with you more than I can begin to tell you.” He extended a hand toward her. “Please?”
This was good, and right and real, Cedar thought, as a wondrous warmth suffused her. They had been completely honest with each other so neither of them could be hurt or feel betrayed when what they were sharing was over. It would be theirs, as would the memories they could do with as they saw fit. Oh, she wanted this, wanted Mark, for as long as it lasted.
Cedar placed her hand in Mark’s and rose to her feet.
“Yes,” she said, smiling. “And to your please I add thank you.”
Mark matched her smile for a moment, then dropped her hand to frame her face with both of his hands. His gaze swept over her face, slowly, slowly, as if he were etching each feature indelibly in his mind.
Finally, he lowered his head and kissed her, so tenderly, so reverently, that tears misted Cedar’s eyes.
He broke the kiss to wrap his arms around her, nestling her to him as she raised her arms to encircle his shoulders. His mouth melted over hers once more in a kiss that was now searing with his want of her, his raging desire. Cedar answered the kiss in kind. They ended the kiss to draw much-needed breaths, then Cedar took Mark’s hand and led him up the stairs to her bedroom.
It was as though they were encased in a magical, sensuous mist that kept the world beyond that room, beyond the two of them, at bay. This place was theirs and theirs alone.
Clothes becam
e intolerable and were hastily removed and allowed to drop into puddles of material on the floor. Someone…her? him?…swept back the blankets on the bed and they tumbled onto cool, beckoning sheets, reaching immediately for each other.
They kissed, caressed, explored, and rejoiced in their discoveries. A body soft and feminine and one hard and tightly muscled seemed custom-made for each other.
Mark drew the lush bounty of one of Cedar’s breasts into his mouth to lave the nipple to a tight bud that matched the tightening, coiling heat low in their bodies. He moved to the other breast, and Cedar relished the feel of the bunching muscles in his back beneath the palms of her fluttering hands.
He left her only long enough to protect her, then raised over her, then into her, filling her, bringing a sigh of pure pleasure from her lips.
The age-old dance of lovers began, the tempo slow, then gaining force to become a thundering rhythm that they matched beat for beat in exacting synchronization.
It was ecstasy.
It was like nothing they had known before.
It was theirs.
The heat and tension within them increased, bringing them closer to the climax they were reaching for. Closer now…closer…now soaring…clinging to each other…then flung away to oblivion seconds apart, each calling out the other’s name.
They slowly drifted back to reality, too awed to speak, too sated to move. Mark gathered his last ounce of energy to shift to Cedar’s side, tucking her close, then drawing the blankets over their cooling bodies. With heads resting on the same pillow, they slept.
But not for long.
“Cedar.”
“Mmm.”
“I have to go. I don’t want to leave you, but I need to see the babysitter home and…tonight was incredible. I wish I was better with words so I could tell you how much…”
“I know. It was beautiful, Mark.”
“Go back to sleep…and dream of me.”
“I will, Mark. I will.”
Chapter Seven
On Friday afternoon, when Bethany announced that Joey had arrived for his appointment, Cedar got to her feet, then sat right back down because of the trembling in her legs.
Get it together, she ordered herself. So what if she was about to see Mark for the first time since he’d left her bed.
She glanced at the roses, perched on top of the bookcase on the far wall, that Mark had sent to her office yesterday.
A dozen long-stem yellow roses in a lead crystal vase.
She smiled as she recalled, for the umpteenth time, the card that had accompanied the gorgeous bouquet.
“Thank you for a memorable evening. Mark.”
Get it together, she ordered herself again, then strode across the room to open the door.
“Hello, Joey,” she said from the doorway. “Mark.”
“Hello, Cedar,” Mark said, getting to his feet.
“’Lo,” Joey mumbled, not moving.
“Mark, may I see you in my office for a moment, please?” Cedar said. “Joey, finish your yummy snack. I’ll be right back.”
Joey shrugged.
Mark entered the office and Cedar closed the door.
“I just wanted to thank you for the beautiful roses,” she said quietly, glancing quickly at the door. “It was so lovely, so thoughtful of you to send them.”
“I’m glad you like them,” Mark said, smiling. “I know that red roses are more traditional, but the other night wasn’t ordinary, not even close. When I went into the florist shop, I realized that red roses weren’t going to cut it.”
“You’re…you’re a romantic,” Cedar said, smiling at him warmly.
“I am?” Mark said, frowning. “No, I’m not. I am? I never thought of myself as being a guy who did corny romantic stuff.”
“There is nothing corny about those flowers, Mark.”
“Oh.” He grinned. “Well, I guess I can handle the label of romantic if it makes your eyes sparkle the way they are.”
“Well…”
“Shh,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his body, and kissed her deeply. Cedar wove her arms around Mark’s waist and urged him even closer as she savored his taste, his feel, his aroma. When he finally broke the kiss, they both drew much-needed breaths.
“Gracious,” Cedar said. “I…I’ve got to get going on Joey’s session.” She paused. “He didn’t appear too happy to be here.”
“He…” Mark said, then cleared his throat. “He was chattering about his buddy, Benny, when I picked him up, but the closer we got to your office, the more sullen he became. He likes you, Cedar, very much, but he’s mentioned that you ask him too many questions.”
Cedar sighed. “About things he doesn’t want to face. I have to say, I’m not making the progress I’d hoped for. He still refuses to talk about his parents, about what happened.”
“He won’t at home, either. He’s becoming more sociable, doesn’t hide out in his room so much and we even made barbecue chicken together last night, but he hasn’t said one word about my sister and brother-in-law.”
Cedar nodded. “All right. Let’s see what I can do during this session. Joey is my last client of the day. If things go better by any chance, will it inconvenience you if we run over our normal time?”
“Not at all. I’ll just hit Bethany up for a snack.”
“Okay,” Cedar said, smiling.
“Cedar,” Mark said, suddenly serious. “It’s great to see you. I’ve thought about you a lot since the other night.”
“I’ve…I’ve thought about you, too, Mark.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“Joey,” Cedar said, hearing the breathlessness in her voice. “Now.”
“Right.”
Fifteen minutes later, Cedar sat opposite Joey in one of the chairs that fronted her desk. She studied the little boy, who was examining a bandage on one of his fingers.
Not responding…again, Cedar thought. The walls were solidly in place…again. Oh, Joey.
“You know,” Cedar said, “this isn’t exactly fair, is it? You come here and I ask you all sorts of questions. Let’s change sides. You ask me something.”
Joey switched his gaze from the bandage to Cedar.
“’Kay,” he said. “Did Uncle Mark kiss you when you went to the fancy restaurant? I asked him and he said it was none of my business.”
“Well, it’s a rather private subject, that’s all.”
“How come grown-ups get private-subject stuff, but kids gotta answer questions about everything and nobody cares if it’s private to them or not?”
“That’s a very good point, Joey. You come to see me and I push you to talk to me, don’t I?”
“Yeah.”
“I think…yes, I think it’s time you had someone else to speak to here instead of me.”
“Who?” Joey said, sitting up straight in his chair, his eyes widening.
“A very special friend,” Cedar said, rising to her feet.
She went to a closet and removed a four-foot clown painted on heavy-duty plastic that was weighted at the bottom. A happy smile was on its face and its clothes were brightly colored. Cedar set the object between her chair and Joey’s.
“This,” she said, “is Puncho. Watch this.”
Cedar leaned forward to press the toy all the way to the floor. She released it and Puncho popped right back up to where he had been.
“Cool,” Joey said, inching toward the edge of his chair.
“He always comes back up to see you,” Cedar said, “and nothing, absolutely nothing makes him stop smiling. Yes, I agree, he is very cool. Aren’t you, Puncho? Yep.”
“Yeah,” Joey said, his gaze riveted on the clown.
“Let me tell you a story, Joey,” Cedar said. “When Oreo was a kitten, I received a beautiful sweater for my birthday. I had laid the sweater on my bed while I showered because I planned to wear it that day. When I got ready to putting it on, I discovered that Oreo had been playing on it an
d had snagged it with her claws. There were holes everywhere and my lovely gift was ruined.”
“Wow,” Joey said. “What did you do to Oreo?”
“Nothing, because it wasn’t her fault. Kittens are kittens, and she couldn’t be blamed for what happened. But, you know, I was so upset because I had lost something precious to me. I came to work and got Puncho out of the closet. I told him what Oreo had done, that I was sad about my sweater but that there was no one to be angry with. So…I hit him, really clobbered him, and he popped back up for more and kept on smiling because that’s what he does. Oh, I felt so much better after that. You must understand, Joey, that we never hit people when we’re upset. Never! I went home that night and hugged Oreo and everything was fine. Would you like to give Puncho a bit of a push?”
“No,” Joey said, then shrugged. “Well, maybe just one.”
“Go ahead.”
Joey slid off the chair and stood in front of the clown. He placed his hand flat on Puncho’s face and shoved the object back several inches. When he jerked his hand away, the clown returned to its original position.
“I know,” Cedar said, laughing at the expression on Joey’s face. “Tell Puncho about Uncle Mark’s scrambled eggs.”
Joey hesitated, then nodded.
“Uncle Mark…” he said, smacking the clown with a little more force—Puncho popped back up. “…makes.” Punch. “The worst scrambled eggs.” Punch. “In the whole wide world.” Wham.
“Very good.” Cedar clapped her hands.
“But Uncle Mark makes good barbecue chicken now,” Joey said, looking at Cedar.
“You taught him well,” she said. “What else do you want to tell Puncho? Mmm. Let’s see. How about sharing with him the reason you’re living in Phoenix with your Uncle Mark?”
“Puncho doesn’t care about that.”
“Sweetie, Puncho cares about everything. He let me go on and on about my sweater, remember? Go ahead, Joey, tell him why you’re living here.”
Please, Joey, Cedar silently begged, give way to your pain. Cry, my darling little boy. Cry and cry and cry.
“Well…yeah…okay. Uncle Mark brought me here,” Joey said, giving the clown a light shove, “because I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” He hit Puncho with more force. “I didn’t because…because…” He slammed Puncho in the nose. “…my mom…mom…and…dad…” He curled his hands into fists and hit Puncho with the left, then the right. “…died. They went in the car and got themself killed and…” He landed another punch, then another. “…and left me all alone.”
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