by Eva Charles
The words were tangled somewhere in my chest. Or maybe they weren’t even formed.
Mark brought his hand to my cheek and slid his long fingers into my hair, palming my scalp. His lips found mine, as though they’d been lovers in a past life. There was no gentle, drawn-out tease. He moved like a man who had waited a long time. His fingers dug into my hip, holding me firmly in place, while his tongue tangled with mine in a bruising, heart-stopping kiss. When I moaned, he pulled his mouth away.
“I’m ten seconds, tops, from ripping off your clothes. If you don’t want that, we should go.”
I actually wasted some of those seconds contemplating the possibilities.
When his thumb rimmed the outer edge of my ear, I gasped and melted into a gooey mess.
Mark arched forward, sandwiching me tighter between his erection and the bookshelf behind me. Small ragged breaths escaped his lips, and with one easy motion, he swept the curls off my face.
“Emmie.” He lowered his mouth to my throat. “We shouldn’t do this here,” he murmured. “Not the first time.”
The idea of how close I was to giving myself completely over to this man—in my office—hit me like a ton of bricks. I attempted to pull away, but there was nowhere to run. A big breath of cool air filled my lungs. “Not any time,” I managed, between short pants.
“We’ll see about that,” he replied, with a smirk that made me want to latch the lock and rub myself all over him.
15
Mark
“Mom, Mom, Mom! Mark’s here!”
“Don’t open the door without me!”
Emmie looked gorgeous in a thin gauzy shirt and a little skirt that floated over her thighs every time she moved.
She seemed shy and a little nervous, and I wanted to kiss her worries away. Reassure her it was going to be fine. No pressure. It was all about fun tonight. But the little ears in the room were on high alert, so I couldn’t say much of anything.
“You look nice,” I said, trying to convey just how nice, without the munchkin picking it up.
“Why can’t I come with you?”
“I’m sorry, big guy, but this is a grown-ups-only dinner.” I want your mom to myself tonight. I didn’t say that part.
“I’ll be good.”
“Of course you’ll be good. I never worry about that. How about if we go out for breakfast over the weekend?”
“Can we get pancakes with chocolate chips and syrup?”
“I think I know a place that makes amazing chocolate chip pancakes with all kinds of syrup. Coffee milk too.”
“Coffee milk?” He wrinkled his nose.
“It’s sooo good. Way better than warm milk.”
“Does it give you muscles?”
“Oh yeah.” I lifted my arm, and squeezed until the bicep popped. “Let me see yours, now.” He lifted his arm and mimicked the motion I just made. I pressed on his bicep. “Wow. I think the muscle is starting to grow. It feels harder.”
Teddy puffed out his chest. “When can we get coffee milk?”
“Sunday, if it’s okay with your mom. We can make it just the guys.” I glanced at Emmie and quickly decided she hated the idea. “Or your mom can come, too. I think she’d like coffee milk. But tonight, it’s her turn.”
He nodded. “Are you going to kiss?” he asked with the singsong voice of a teasing child.
Emmie covered her eyes, peeking at me through her fingers. “Teddy.”
“Robbie said when moms and dads have date night, they kiss and do gross stuff.”
She gasped softly.
I got down and held onto his upper arms, near his shoulders. “When a girl lets you kiss her, that’s a special privilege.”
He cocked his head, and I could see the wheels turning. “Like staying up late to watch Rudolph?”
“Yeah. Just like that. Better even.” Not sure the kid really bought it—after all, what could be more special than staying up past your bedtime the Friday after Thanksgiving to watch Rudolph, unless your mom throws in a few Christmas cookies and a mug of hot chocolate with mini-marshmallows?
“But tough guys never talk about the girls they kiss. Only losers do that.”
“I’m not a loser.”
“Of course you’re not.”
Ruth came in, and proceeded to ignore me, while Emmie said good-night to Teddy.
“I won’t tell anyone I kissed you,” he assured his mom, and then scampered off to watch his thirty minutes of television.
“What time will you be home?” Ruth didn’t address the question to anyone in particular, but I fielded it.
“I’ll have her back before midnight.”
“I watch the eleven o’clock news in bed and then I go to sleep.” Ruth’s bedtime routine was more information than I needed to know. Way more.
“Would it be easier if Teddy sleeps upstairs with you tonight?” Emmie asked.
“He sleeps better in his own bed. You’ve always said that. What’s changed?”
“Nothing. But Teddy’s getting a little older, and it’s summer. I thought it might be okay to relax the rules a little.” Emmie’s voice was a little shaky, maybe a bit defensive.
“Where are you two going?”
What are we, sixteen?
Emmie glanced at me. “It’s a surprise. But I left you the number Mark gave me, along with his cell phone number. And you have mine.”
“A surprise?” she asked, her voice full of disapproval. Or maybe disdain. Either way, she looked as if she’d been force-fed a big juicy lemon.
“Yes. He’s surprising me.”
There aren’t many people in life I flat out disliked. If you don’t date my cousins, and don’t screw around with my brothers, I pretty much just ignore you if you aren’t my flavor of protein shake. But Ruth was full of hate, and she leveled it at Emmie in subtle and not-so-subtle ways. I was teetering on the edge of letting loose on a woman more than old enough to be my mother. But there was no way back from that, and the night would be over before it started. I wasn’t letting a crotchety old woman take it from us.
“Leaving your son without knowing exactly where you’ll be isn’t something a mother does. Not a good mother.”
Emmie was five feet away, but I felt her tense and begin to shrink.
I wasn’t going to let Ruth torture her for one more second. If she wouldn’t put a stop to it, I would. “Good mothers do it all the time. They take a little time for themselves, so they can be fresh and rested for their kids.” I have no idea where that little gem came from. I must have heard it somewhere, but don’t ask me where or who said it. But it was probably Max to Sophie.
“We’re having dinner on Slocum Hill. We better get going or having her back in time for you to watch the news is going to be tough. Don’t think twice about calling us, if Teddy needs anything.”
I grabbed Emmie’s hand and pulled her out the door, before Ruth could do anything more to ruin the evening.
“You need a different babysitter.”
“That’s just who she is. She’s controlling. It’s always been that way. You should have seen her with Tim. But she loves Teddy, and means well.”
“That wasn’t controlling. That was mean. You’re an adult, a very capable woman, not to mention a great mother, and she treats you like a selfish teenager.”
“She’s right. Women don’t leave their children and go off with a man because it’s fun.”
We weren’t out of the neighborhood, when I pulled to the curb and put the car in park. I leaned across the console, and cupped her chin. “You are not your mother. Parenting is not a zero-sum game. You’re allowed to take some time away from your child to go out on a date.” She didn’t say anything, but I could feel the stress. “If you wait until he’s an adult, you’ll be so old and wrinkled, no one will want to date you.”
The laughter bubbled in her chest. I could see it. “And I suppose you’ll still be a stud muffin?”
“Damn straight. Why is that even a question?” I gently t
ugged on her hair, and the corners of her mouth eased up. “Let’s just have fun tonight.”
She nodded, but it wasn’t all that convincing. We had a reservation and a curfew to make, and it was getting late so I pulled back on the road. We weren’t going to settle this tonight anyway. Besides, I was more than capable of talking while driving.
“My mom was a great mother. But by your standards, she’d have been an abject failure, even though she loved all of us, and gave us everything we needed. And plenty more.”
“You miss her?”
“All the time. My dad, too.”
She reached across the seat and squeezed the top of my hand. I linked my fingers through hers and brought her hand to my mouth. Her skin was soft against my lips, and I noticed she put on a little perfume. It really was my kind of stink.
“As much as she loved us, and none of us ever doubted that, she always took care of her marriage. My parents went out without us all the time, sometimes just for a walk on the beach. She never apologized for the time she spent with my dad, and we were no worse for the wear because of it. In some ways, it served us well.”
She tugged her hand, trying to pull it loose from mine, but the only way I was letting go was if I needed it to steer.
“I’m doing the best I can, Mark. Dating is brand-new to me. I’m sorry if it doesn’t meet with your expectations. Not everybody grew up in a fairy tale with perfect role models.”
I brushed off the last part. Fairy tales don’t end with your parents being murdered. At least none I’d ever read. “You’re doing an amazing job raising that little boy. He is so lucky to have you as his mom. He’s too young to realize it now, but he’ll figure it out as he gets older. I’m not trying to tell you what to do…”
“No?” She squeezed my fingers.
I chuckled. “Sounds like it though, doesn’t it? I just hate that you’re so hard on yourself, and that you let Ruth push you around.”
“My dating is new to her, too. She didn’t expect life to turn out this way.”
I bit my tongue, and weighed my words carefully, because what I wanted to say wasn’t nice or charitable. “What happened to Mr. Ruth?”
“He left after Tim died, before Teddy was a year old. He couldn’t handle the grief. Everything reminded him of Tim. Ruth’s been through a lot.”
“So have you. But you don’t walk around looking for someone to drop a house on.”
“Mark.”
“Every time I see you at work, you’re strong and confident. You stand up to some pretty tough characters every day. But that woman cuts you down all the time, and you let her.”
“Not all the time. Mainly about you. She’s just looking out for Teddy.”
“Bullshit. She’s looking out for herself.”
“Let’s not let Ruth spoil our date night.”
“So, you admit, this is date night? The kind where we kiss and do gross stuff?”
She laughed. “Hopefully Robbie can keep all the exciting details to himself.”
“There’s always one kid like that in the group. He probably has older siblings.”
“That’s what you were like, isn’t it?”
“Nah, not really. Luke was that guy.” It was a beautiful night, and when we exited the highway, I flipped open the moon roof.
“Tell me more about what we’re doing.”
“Need to know. And you darlin’, don’t need to know. Your job is to relax and have fun tonight. That’s it. Although, I probably wouldn’t object to a big, sloppy good-night kiss. Just not too sloppy. But we’ll see how it goes.”
“You are too much, Mark Harrington. Too much. Don’t ever change,” she added, almost under her breath.
Emmie
Mark pulled into the parking lot of a stately old inn, with a wraparound porch and a spectacular water view. The inn was so close to the ocean, even high on its high perch, I wondered how it survived a storm.
We sat at a high-top table on the patio and had a drink, while the waves crashed on the shore. Mark was relaxed. He teased gently, coaxing smiles and soft laughter from me, touching me often. Nothing untoward or suggestive, just small, perfectly timed caresses: the hollow of my back, the inside of my wrist, my right cheek, and the ends of my hair.
He was attentive, anticipating needs before I had them. I knew he’d be like this in bed, too. All-consuming, responsive to every need. I squirmed a bit, and a small pang pinged inside my chest. Betrayal? Regret? Maybe it was just first date jitters. But I wasn’t nervous. Not really.
Would I always feel this way? Was this normal? Maybe dating needed to start with small, manageable bites. Maybe the car ride and a drink was enough for tonight. Maybe I needed to build up to dinner.
“Everything okay?” he asked. “You got so quiet on me all of a sudden.”
I nodded. But if the hostess hadn’t come over right then to tell us our table was ready, I might have asked Mark to take me home.
He held my hand and we followed the chatty hostess across the bluestone patio, and down a lit path to the water’s edge. Tall seagrass flanked the path, partially obscuring our view of the ocean for several yards. The combination of a light southern breeze, Mark’s strong hand, and the chitchat of the hostess, in her thick New England accent, chased away the unease.
As the path opened up, I spied a small white tent, contained by sheer curtains billowing in the wind. Colorful Chinese lanterns lit the perimeter. My heart clenched. I glanced at Mark. He smiled and brushed his lips over my hair.
When we reached the sand, we toed off our shoes, and made our way to the tent. The curtains were pinned back, on the ocean side. Inside, a table was set for two, and despite the polished silver and sparkling crystal, the mood inside the tent was cozy and unfussy.
“Oh my God, Mark!” I gasped softly.
He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me tight to his side. “I’m glad you like it,” he whispered right above my ear. “I wanted to surprise you with something special.”
After showing us how to ring for service, the hostess bid us good-night.
“You’re out of control.”
“You just figured that out, Sunshine?”
I started to slip my shoes back on.
“You don’t need to put those on. It’s just us. The sand is warm and dry from the sun. It’ll feel good between your toes.”
“Sunshine? Is that what you call all your dates, because it’s hard to keep our names all straight?”
“There are no other dates, Emmie.” With a loud pop, he loosened the cork from the champagne. “I’m a one-woman-at-a-time kind of guy. Mostly.”
“Mostly.” I shook my head, while he handed me a crystal flute. “You really are too much.”
“I would never ask you to take off your ring, and then treat you like the catch of the day.”
“I didn’t think you would.” And I didn’t. Not really. “I was teasing. Mostly.”
He was right. The sand felt unbelievable between my toes. Toasty and dry. I tried to concentrate on the small, warm grains underfoot, hoping my heart would begin to beat regularly again.
Mark touched my glass with his. “To warm nights, cold beer, and beautiful women. May they never be in short supply.”
“Mmmm. This doesn’t taste anything like beer.”
He pointed to a large silver bucket at the edge of the tent. “The beer’s for later.”
The dinner was casual as Mark promised. We had clam chowder with oyster crackers, served in thick ceramic mugs. And steamed lobsters, that he taught me to shell, dipped in melted butter. We gnawed silver queen kernels off the cob, and indulged in big wedges of house-made blueberry pie topped with the richest vanilla ice cream I’d ever tasted.
I washed it all down with champagne, and Mark drank beer right from the bottle. We ate with our fingers. It was messy and great fun. My heart nearly exploded with happiness while the sun set in a fiery ball around us.
“We have a few minutes. Why don’t we take a walk on the beach?”<
br />
“Maybe I should call and check on Teddy first.” I pulled my phone from my purse. “I’m not sure service is good out here. I hope…”
“Here. Use mine. I can get service almost anywhere on this thing.”
I paused with my hand still on his phone. A small voice whispered: She always took care of her marriage. We were no worse for it. Maybe it was the devil whispering, but I heard angels. “Ruth would have called if there was a problem. I trust her.”
He nodded. “I’m shocked she hasn’t invented a problem so she could call.”
“I’m not going to bother her.”
He took my hand, and a little way down the beach, he let it go and wound his arm around my shoulders, drawing me closer. I rested my head against him, and let the warmth from his body envelop me. Mark was long, smooth, muscle, hard in all the right places, and I wanted…I wanted to kiss him…I wanted to reach under his shirt and slide my hand over his skin.
I wanted it so much, wanted him so much, yet I was afraid to make the move. I wanted him to do it. I wanted him to absolve me of the guilt. I’d just go along for the ride, the first time. Then it wouldn’t really be my fault. No one would blame me. It would be easier after the first time. Wouldn’t it? The cowardly thoughts shamed me.
Years of childhood therapy taught me the limited value of insight. It wasn’t magic. I could fully understand the who, what, and why of my behavior, of my thoughts, and still be a slave to them, repeating the destructive behaviors over and over.
If an outsider learned my life story, they would say I had been a brave, courageous girl who had grown into a brave, courageous woman. But that’s only because they couldn’t see the self-doubt and fear lurking inside, never too far from the surface. Crippling fears that needed to be beaten down regularly before complete paralysis set in. It was exhausting.
“Stop overthinking.”
“I’m not.”
“I can hear you.”
“You cannot.”
“No. But I can feel you tense up when you start conjuring up scenarios in your pretty little head that are five steps ahead of where we are right now. Or worse, imagining things that will never happen.” He kissed the top of my head. “I don’t like it,” he murmured into my hair. “I want you relaxed, so I can get your panties off easier. I’m not opposed to a little struggle, provided everyone’s on board, but panties slip off a relaxed woman like jackets off a boiled potato. It’s a beautiful thing.”
