by Cara Marsi
“It’s just your ego that’s bruised,” she said to the quiet room. “Get over it.”
She headed for the bedroom. She refused to sit around pining like a lovesick teen. She’d go to Gail’s party after all.
The doorbell buzzed. She jumped. Probably Gail, coming over in person to persuade her to get out and have some fun.
She pressed the button allowing her to talk to whoever was downstairs.
“Alright, Gail. You win. I’ll be there.”
A deep chuckle came over the line. She jerked away as if burned.
“I’m sure Gail would be glad to hear that,” a male voice shot back.
Tom. Joy and apprehension hit her, making her stomach tense.
“What do you want?” she said.
“I need to see you. You going to let me in?”
“Go…” She stopped. She wasn’t afraid of him or her own feelings. They had business between them. Nothing more.
“Come up.” She buzzed him in and opened her apartment door to wait.
Heavy footsteps creaked up the stairs, then he was in the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.
They stared at each other. Her breath faltered. She had missed him these last weeks…missed his smile, the way his deep blue eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed. She’d hungered for his nearness, for the way he made even the most routine tasks more vivid. And mostly for the way he made her feel—more alive than she’d ever been in her life.
She folded her arms across her chest as protection from the warmth that swept over her.
“What do you want?” she asked again.
Tom threw her a dazzling smile that made her stomach twist in knots. “We’ve been through that already.” He held up a large plastic bag. “Can I put this somewhere? It’s getting heavy.”
“What is it?”
“Dinner. Chinese. I got hungry on the way over. I thought you might be too.”
“Put it on the table,” she said, nodding toward the dining area.
Her gaze followed his long-legged strides across the room. His jeans and gray T-shirt hugged the muscular contours of his body. The tall, skinny kid she once knew sure filled a pair of denims now. The thought made her face burn.
“Let’s eat,” he said. “Where are your dishes?”
“Not so fast.” She narrowed her eyes. He couldn’t just breeze in here, as if nothing had happened between them, as if he hadn’t planned a romantic weekend with another woman.
“Why are you here, Tom? I thought you were away.”
“No.” He shook his head. “The Bennetts invited me to their place in Stone Harbor. They wanted me to meet some people who are interested in doing business with our company.”
His deep blue gaze studied her. “But I had something more important to do,” he finished.
Her pulse quickened. “Then you’re not going to the shore with Taylor?”
Mary Beth cringed inwardly and wanted to bite the words back. Relief had weakened her, sabotaging her defenses.
He frowned. “What made you think that?”
“Something I heard,” she said, shrugging. The rapid beating of her heart threatened the outward calmness she was trying to project.
An amused gleam lit Tom’s eyes as he walked slowly toward her.
“Jealous?” he said, tugging gently on her braid and pulling her closer.
“No!” She twisted free.
He laughed softly.
“I’ll get the dishes,” she said, hurrying into the kitchen.
“Need any help?” he asked.
“No. Stay there.”
“You’re a coward, Mary Beth Kendrick. You always run from the truth.”
“I’m not running.” She clamped her mouth shut. It didn’t matter what he thought. She wasn’t a teenager any more. She could handle Tom. And Taylor.
Anger churned inside her. The cunning blonde had humiliated her for the last time.
She pulled open a cabinet door and grabbed two plates, then threw silverware onto them. The stainless steel clinked against the ceramic.
“You tearing the place apart?” Tom called out from the other room.
“I’m fine. Just clumsy.”
Leaning against the counter, Mary Beth took deep breaths. Tom showing up today meant nothing. He was probably here on business. That was fine with her.
Liar, liar, the little voice mocked. “Oh, shut up,” she muttered.
“Food’s good,” Tom said a few minutes later. He pushed a forkful of plum duck into his mouth.
Mary Beth skimmed her finger over the rim of her wine goblet and tried to ignore the happiness stirring in her. Her need to be near Tom, to touch him and talk to him grew stronger each time she saw him.
She pushed a piece of steamed shrimp around the plate with her fork. Even the sweet-spicy odors of the delicious-looking food couldn’t entice her to eat. Her appetite had dissolved in the heady joy of seeing Tom, of being with him.
“I’ve missed you,” he said softly.
She looked up to find him staring at her. The attraction that always bubbled around them rose to the surface. Immersed in the blue of his eyes, she couldn’t look away. Her fork dropped from her hand and hit the plate with a loud ring, breaking the spell.
“I wanted to call you,” he said, “but I knew you needed your space. Then Maureen had her baby and I had to help with her other kids. I couldn’t get away till now.”
“You were baby-sitting?” The Tom she used to know wouldn’t have had the patience to care for small children.
His mouth tilted in a wry smile. “Believe it or not, my sister trusts me with her kids.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she said.
“Of course it is,” he said, laughing. “But that’s okay.” His gaze swept her in a heated caress. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”
“Are they okay?” she blurted out. “Maureen and the baby, I mean.” She shifted, trying to tamp down the warmth spreading through her at the tenderness of his gaze.
His wide smile made him look younger and more vulnerable, like the Tom she had loved so long ago. Her heart did a tiny flip.
“They’re both great. Maureen and Robert have a beautiful little girl who looks just like her mother.”
“I’m glad,” she said. “They must be very happy.”
“They are.” He leaned closer. “Why haven’t you ever married, Cat Eyes?”
She bristled. “No time. Why haven’t you married?”
“I was engaged once.” Pain shadowed his face.
“Engaged?” She swallowed around the lump in her throat.
He brushed his hand over his hair and shifted in his chair. “Clarice was one of my partners in the storefront law office we operated in the Bronx.”
“Storefront office?”
“We were very idealistic,” he said. “But we helped a lot of people. I’m proud of that.”
She widened her eyes. “You? A charity office? Why?”
He shot her a rueful smile. “I know that’s hard to believe, but I had my reasons. Someday I’ll tell you about them.”
Mary Beth pushed her plate away and pressed her palms on the table. Revelations about this new, improved Tom made her head reel. Baby-sitting? Doing public charity? She’d sort out her jumbled feelings later. She couldn’t concentrate with him sitting opposite her.
“What happened to your engagement?” She wasn’t sure she’d like the answer, but she had to know.
“She dumped me for Jack, our other partner.”
“Oh.” He must still love this Clarice. Mary Beth’s hopes sank like the stones she used to throw in the Delaware River when she was a kid.
“That must have hurt,” she said in a strained voice.
He picked up his glass of wine and stared at the burgundy liquid. “Their betrayal hurt. They were my best friends and they carried on an affair right under my nose.”
“I’m sorry, Tom.” He knew how betrayal felt. Had that helped change hi
m from the spoiled boy she remembered to the kind, generous man he now seemed to be?
He slid his glance back to her. “Don’t be too sorry. I already knew I had to come home, that I didn’t really love Clarice and couldn’t marry her, but I didn’t want to hurt her. God knows, I’d done enough hurting in my life.”
Mary Beth looked down at the table. She had lived with the old, painful memories, believing the worst of him, for so long. This new image of Tom was hard to absorb. And dangerous.
“Enough about me,” he said, drawing her attention back to him. “Why the deep freeze at the cookout? I thought we had an understanding before I left for Pittsburgh.”
“The only understanding we have is that you’re my boss.”
“Boss?” His jaw clenched. “I’m not your boss.”
She fought the urge to smooth away the tension from his mouth, to tell him he meant so much more. She choked back the perilous words.
“There’s just business between us.” She sounded unconvincing even to herself.
The intensity of his gaze made her flinch. “There’s way more than business between us, Mary Beth. And you know it.”
Pushing his plate away, he leaned forward. “You can’t keep denying the truth.”
“I’m not denying anything.”
“Then tell me why the cold shoulder at my parents.”
“I had work to do. I was preoccupied. Nothing else.”
“Stubborn to the end,” he said, shaking his head.
“Think what you will,” she said.
“It’s not because of von Zuben, is it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Not that it’s any of your concern.”
His features relaxed. “It’s my concern, all right, but we won’t go there now.” He settled into his chair, his gaze never leaving hers.
She angled her chin. “How did you know I’d be home today?”
“Gail told me. Said you didn’t even want to go to her party.”
“I’ve got to have a talk with that woman.”
Tom laughed. His eyes crinkled at the corners. She’d always loved his easy laugh. In school, a smile from him, a teasing word, brightened her day. She had thought she knew a sensitive side of him he didn’t show to many others, but his betrayal had proved her wrong. Maybe she’d been right all along. Or was she in danger of making the same mistake again?
She grabbed her glass and tossed back the last of the wine, wanting to wash away the feelings that weakened her and made her prey to heartbreak.
She stood up. She needed to get away. Tom knew her too well, and he knew how to chip away at her defenses.
“Thanks for the food,” she said. “I’m going to Gail’s party after all. I have to get ready.”
“She invited me too,” he said. “I told her I had other plans, but we can go together.”
“Together?” Going to a party with Tom would be too much like a…date. She didn’t know if she was ready for that.
“If you don’t want to go to the party, we can go to the fireworks at Rockford Park,” he said. “Since Gail’s not expecting us, it won’t be a problem.”
Mary Beth swallowed. Fireworks seemed less like a date. She ignored her racing pulse that told her she and Tom ignited enough sparks to make their own fireworks.
“Okay,” she said, letting her breath out. “The park it is. But we go as friends, right?”
“Of course.” The amused tilt of his mouth set off warning bells in her head.
“I have to change into a pair of capris,” she said.
“Why? You look terrific in those shorts. Better than terrific.”
His appreciative gaze scanned her. The light in his eyes drew out her need and longing, threatening her self-control and her pride.
He rounded the table to stand directly in front of her. Wrapping his hand around her braid, he pulled her closer until his face was inches from hers.
“Maybe we should stay here and make our own fireworks,” he said in a thick voice.
Her breath seemed to stop. It would be so easy to give in, to forget all the old hurts. The nagging voice of fear slammed into her. If she opened to him again, she’d never be free. Her heart would belong to Tom forever.
She pulled away. “The only fireworks you’ll see tonight are at Rockford.”
His soft laugh followed her into the bedroom.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Business or pleasure? The thought seared into Mary Beth’s mind as she and Tom entered the sprawling park. She glanced up at him. His firm jaw spoke of a strength and masculinity that made her heart flip-flop. Her feelings about him were becoming less business and more pleasure every day. Apprehension and heat melded in her stomach.
When Tom slid his hand into hers, a current of excitement shot through her, making her stumble. He tightened his grip and their eyes met.
The intensity in his sapphire eyes acknowledged the charged atmosphere sizzling between them. Embarrassment burned through her and she looked away. His soft laugh, rich and thick, enveloped her in a sultry mix of longing and fear.
Several people in the crowd smiled at them as if they were a couple. Mary Beth stiffened and pulled her hand from his. What was she thinking? She and Tom weren’t a couple, and never would be, if she had any sense. But she was losing all sense where he was concerned.
“Let’s set up here,” he said, stopping at a spot thickly carpeted with grass and large enough for the plaid blanket they’d brought from Mary Beth’s apartment.
Around them, others were setting up lawn chairs, staking out their vantage points where they would watch the fireworks that would begin at dark.
Mary Beth settled onto the blanket and drew her knees up close to her body, wrapping her arms around them. Tom sat next to her, only inches away. She felt too vulnerable, too exposed, to look at him. She had to control her longing for him, a longing that threatened to overwhelm and weaken her.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he said. She looked at him. The air around them grew heavy. Slowly, deliberately, he scanned her face, stopping at her mouth.
Her resolve to distance herself from him flew away on the gentle breeze that touched her bare shoulders and ruffled his hair. She slid her hand across the blanket toward him, wanting to caress his sculpted face, to brush aside the stray curl that fell over his forehead.
He leaned closer. Delicious anticipation made her breath catch.
“Ice cream! Get your ice cream here!” Mary Beth jumped back at the vendor’s loud cry.
She gulped air and smoothed a hand over her hair. Groups of men, women, and children milled around. She and Tom were in a public place. What had possessed her?
“I need something cold,” she said. She clamped her mouth shut. Her face burned.
Tom laughed and stood up slowly. “I know I could use some cooling off.”
She swallowed and stood too, then headed down the small slope toward the ice cream vendor, a large cooler supported by a thick strap slung over his shoulder. Tom followed close behind her.
“Why don’t we walk around while we eat these,” she said after they’d purchased cups of Italian water ice.
Taking a small scoop of the lemon-flavored treat, she glanced back at the blanket. Self-protection made her hurry away from the plaid square of temptation and into the crowd.
They strolled on the springy grass, sidestepping blankets and lawn chairs. Thankfully, she’d worn flat sandals and not a pair of her high-heeled ones. She concentrated on her dessert, but the frozen concoction couldn’t cool the sensuality that simmered in the air between them.
She forced her thoughts from Tom and focused on the smiling faces of the crowd. Little children clung to brightly colored balloons. Most of the children and some adults wore lightsticks around their necks. Once darkness fell, the sticks would glow neon bright, giving the park an otherworldly feel.
“This is fun,” Tom said. “I’m glad we decided to come.”
“Are you?”
“Definitely.” The bold
challenge in his eyes shook her and she slid her glance away. She felt his gaze on her but resisted the impulse to look at him.
“I’d forgotten how good water ice is,” he said. “I haven’t had one since I was a kid when my Uncle Kevin used to sneak me to Little Italy.”
“Sneak you?” Mary Beth slanted him a look and lost her footing, tripping on some small stones.
Tom held onto her elbow, steadying her. Someone jostled him from behind and he bumped against her, sending her cup of water ice flying out of her hand to plop on the ground.
“Oh,” she said, staring down at the remnants of her treat and then up at Tom.
“I’m sorry, Mary Beth.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said, shrugging. “But it was so good.”
He laughed. “Have some of mine.” He took a spoonful of the iced treat and held it to her lips.
He stood so close. She felt his warm breath on her cheeks. Shivers of pleasure danced up her spine. She opened her mouth and took the food he offered. Closing her lips around the spoon, she savored the tart sweetness.
Tom’s gaze held hers. She couldn’t look away. She released the spoon.
He scooped up more of the lemon ice and slid it into his own mouth. Mary Beth watched his lips wrap around the spoon. Her insides liquefied. She wanted to taste him, to savor his warmth and masculinity.
“Good, isn’t it?” he said softly.
She swallowed, mesmerized by the fire in the depths of his eyes.
A group of children ran past. One of them knocked against her, jarring her back to reality and giving her a heavy dose of embarrassment.
She blew her breath out and lowered her gaze. “I guess we’d better keep walking.”
“I guess so,” he said, a note of regret in his voice. He held out his cup. “Do you want more?”
She shook her head. “No. Thank you.”
“Take it,” he said, thrusting the paper cup at her. “I spilled yours. You can have mine.” He stooped to pick up the one she’d dropped. “There must be a trash barrel around here somewhere.”
Nervousness made her finish Tom’s water ice quickly as they walked. She had to get some semblance of control over her crazy emotions. Her feelings for Tom were as mixed as the odors wafting through the dusky park—sweet scents of freshly mown grass, flowers and cotton candy, heavier smells of grilled hot dogs and hamburgers. Lightness and dark. Warmth and passion.
