If You Come Back To Me (Mills & Boon Spice)

by BETH KERY

  By the time twilight fell on Thursday evening, Mari knew she was going to have to confront Ryan about her plans to go away with Marc the next day. She broke the news while they were cleaning up in the kitchen after dinner.

  “A weekend in Chicago?” he asked slowly. “That sounds serious.”

  “It is, I think,” Mari admitted.

  “How serious?” Ryan asked, his dark brows drawn together in concern and growing anger.

  “Ryan, you’re going to have to trust me on this.”

  “I do trust you. I don’t trust Kavanaugh. Can’t you see the end result isn’t going to be good?” he demanded. “There’s too much garbage in your pasts, Mari. You deserve something better than that.”

  “I want to do this. I need to do this.”

  Ryan straightened abruptly from where he’d been leaning on the counter. “His father murdered Mom and Dad. How can you even consider a future with Marc Kavanaugh?”

  “It wasn’t murder,” Mari countered, just as heatedly. “It was an accident!”

  “It was reckless homicide,” Ryan boomed.

  For a few seconds, Mari just stood there as her brother’s retort echoed in her ears.

  “How long?” she asked eventually. When Ryan just pinned her with a furious stare, Mari persisted in a low, trembling voice. “How long are you going to hold on to your anger, Ryan? Mom and Dad are gone. Your anger isn’t going to bring them back.”

  “At least I’m respecting their memory,” Ryan said stiffly before he tossed the dish towel on the counter, “which is a damn sight more than you’re doing by climbing into bed with Marc Kavanaugh.”

  Mari didn’t get much rest that night. She’d only been asleep for a few hours when she was awakened by the sound of her bedroom window scraping open. A scream building in her throat, she sat up in bed.

  “Shhh, it’s me.”

  “Marc Kavanaugh,” she scolded in a low, vibrating voice, “I’m going to chop down that elm tree. You scared the daylights out of me. What do you think you’re doing?”

  “It’s Friday morning,” he said in a hushed tone. In the darkness, she saw the shadow of his tall body squeezing agilely through the window.

  “It’s not even dawn yet,” she hissed.

  “It’s going to be soon. We have to hurry. Come on, get up.”

  Mari barely suppressed a squawk when he came over to the bed and pulled the sheet off her.

  “Have you packed already?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Great. I’ll take your stuff out to the car while you shower.”

  Mari blinked when he turned on the bedside lamp. Her mouth was open to protest. But when she saw him— wearing a pair of jeans and a light gray collarless shirt, his hair adorably mussed on his forehead from his tree climbing—he looked so excited and so damn appealing, her irritation faded into mist.

  She got out of bed, scowling. She didn’t want him to know how attractive she found him at that moment. He already had more power over her than she preferred. “Okay, but this better be worth it. I just got to sleep a couple of hours ago.”

  “I’ll make it up to you. I promise,” he said. Pointedly urging her toward the shower, he nodded at the door.

  She thought for sure Marc was going to spirit her away to Chicago the second they were both in his car. He surprised her by heading first to The Tap and Grill and returning with a coffee for each of them before turning toward Main Street Harbor.

  “Where are we going?” she whispered when Marc told her to leave her purse in the car. Dawn hadn’t broken yet. The quiet night and her unexpected awakening had created a hushed, tense feeling of expectation inside her.

  “Colleen’s boat,” he said as they hurried down a long dock, Mari’s hand in his. “It used to be Darin’s.”

  “What…? We’re going to cross Lake Michigan to get to Chicago?”

  Marc’s derisive snort was her only answer. Once they reached a moored speedboat, Mari didn’t argue when Marc told her to sit down and relax. It would be another hot summer day once the sun rose, but the pre-dawn air was mild and pleasant. A light breeze tickled her cheek as she listened to Marc untie the craft and start the boat.

  Within a matter of a few minutes, they’d passed the buoys designating the harbor, and Marc released the throttle. Her curiosity would have to wait. He’d never hear her questions over the roar of the engine. Mari watched the lights of Harbor Town slowly slide to the right of her vision as the boat cut through the water.

  Mari studied Marc’s silhouette in the darkness when the boat slowed. He was sitting on the back of the seat instead of in it. She realized he was searching for some landmark on the shore.

  He abruptly cut the motor, and only the sound of gentle waves slapping against the side of the boat entered her ears.

  “This is it,” Marc said.

  “This is what?”

  “Come here.”

  She stood and grasped his outstretched hand. He guided her to the seat in front of him. From that position, Marc was directly behind her, his legs bent on either side of her. He placed one hand on her shoulder and the other along her cheek. He applied a slight pressure until Mari turned her head toward shore.

  “Right about there,” Marc murmured from above her.

  The sun had started to rise. Mari could make out the huge shadow of a dune in the distance. She glanced to the right, gauging the distance to Harbor Town.

  “It’s Silver Dune,” she whispered.

  “Yeah,” Marc replied.

  A warm wind whisked past them. Mari shivered, not from the breeze, but from the feeling of Marc’s left hand moving along her neck. She went still when he caressed her jaw with his fingertips. When she realized how concentrated her awareness was on the sensation of him close behind her, his legs surrounding her, his stroking hand, Mari rolled her eyes in the darkness. You’d think she was a sixteen-year-old on her first date.

  “So what are we doing?” she whispered.

  “Watching the sun rise over Silver Dune.”

  “Why?”

  He pressed back on her shoulder, and her head fell in the juncture of his spread legs. Her eyes sprung wide. The location where she her head rested wasn’t really decent, but Marc sounded casual enough when he spoke.

  “Why not?”

  Mari tried to attend to the sunrise, but it was difficult to do, surrounded by Marc’s scent and heat. The waves gently rocked them, and Marc stroked her neck and shoulder in the most distracting manner. Slowly, the sky behind the black dune began to turn silver and then to muted gold tinted with rose. Neither of them spoke as they watched the crimson orb of the sun top the horizon and then creep through the woods beyond the sand dune. The trees seemed ablaze. Mari saw a structure in the far distance through the trees and gasped.

  “What?” Marc asked gruffly from behind her. His voice sounded close, like he’d leaned close.

  Mari twisted her head to try and see him. He groaned, and she realized why. When she hastily tried to lift her head from between his thighs, he rested his hands on her shoulders and kept her in place.

  “I can see The Family Center,” Mari said quietly.

  “I know. I can, too.”

  The sun topped the tall trees at the top of the dunes and sent its warming rays onto a pale blue, shimmering lake.

  “Everyone comes to Harbor Town for the sunsets,” Mari murmured after a moment. “But the sunrises are just as beautiful.”

  “I wanted you to see one.”

  Mari glanced over at the small town perched on the shore. It looked perfect and fresh, cast in the golden light of dawn. She set down her coffee cup and turned in the seat. When Marc saw what she was doing, he steadied her while she rose to her knees in front of him. His small grin faded the instant before she pressed her mouth to his.

  When she leaned back a moment later, and Marc stared down at her, she saw the sunrise reflecting in his blue eyes like glowing embers.

  “I know what you wanted me to see,” she w
hispered.

  “Do you?”

  She nodded and pressed her lips fleetingly to his once again. “You wanted me to see things in a whole new light.” She inspected him somberly. “I’m trying, Marc.”

  He opened his hand along her neck and stroked the line of her jaw with his thumb. “That’s all I ask,” he said. He nodded toward the shore. When Mari turned, he put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her back against him. “Don’t you think that’d be a perfect spot for a memorial?”

  “A memorial?” Mari murmured, her cheek pressed against his chest.

  “Yeah. A memorial for the survivors of substance abuse. A fountain, maybe, set there at the edge of the trees on the promontory of the dune?”

  “It would be. It’d be like a sanctuary, a place to think or pray…”

  A place to heal, Mari added in her mind.

  “I want to sponsor it,” he murmured.

  She twisted around and gazed up at him. “You don’t have to—”

  “I know that,” he interrupted. “You don’t have to do what you’re doing, either. Not that this compares to what you’re doing, not in the slightest. But it’s something I’d like to do, if you’d let me.”

  “Of course. It’s a beautiful idea.” She put her arms around his waist and he embraced her in return.

  For a few minutes, they bobbed on the blue lake and held each other fast, drinking in the rays of the new day. After a while, he leaned back slightly and put his hand beneath her chin. He tilted her face up and kissed her, chastely at first, but then, as their tastes mingled, with all the focused, fierce passion she associated exclusively with Marc.

  “We’d better get going,” he said next to her lips a while later.

  Looking into his gleaming eyes, she nodded. She took her own seat as Marc started up the boat again.

  They returned to the same town she’d known and remembered, but thanks to Marc, Harbor Town looked a little different now in her eyes.

  Due to her sleeplessness last night, Mari found herself drifting off when they were only fifteen minutes away from Chicago. When she awoke, they were driving down Lake Shore Drive with the city to the left and the deep blue lake shimmering to the right of them. She was still blinking into wakefulness when Marc turned off onto Randolph Street. He’d only driven west a half block before he pulled into the parking garage of a high-rise.

  “You ready?” Marc asked her a few seconds later, after he’d parked.

  Mari nodded, suddenly feeling a little giddy with the excitement of their weekend getaway. He grabbed their bags and led her to an elevator. They stopped in the luxurious, residential lobby so that Marc could collect his mail.

  Mari observed with fascination the way Marc transformed from a sun-tanned, easygoing vacationer to a confident, big-city state’s attorney right before her eyes. It wasn’t a huge change, granted, and he didn’t behave any differently in the slightest. The nod of respect a few residents granted him as he picked up a package from his doorman and the wistful, backward glance one attractive, middle-aged woman cast his way allowed Mari to see this different shade to Marc’s complex character.

  He introduced her to his doorman, Oscar. Oscar treated Marc with equal parts friendliness and deference and seemed to know all sorts of intimate details about Marc’s life.

  “I’ve known Mari since I was eleven years old,” Marc admitted to Oscar as Mari and the doorman shook hands.

  “Oh, the dirt you must have on him,” Oscar said with a wink.

  Mari opened her mouth, but Marc hastily grabbed her hand and led her away. The sound of Oscar’s laughter echoed behind them.

  Marc’s condo was large and featured a breathtaking lake view. It was decorated in a sparse, austere fashion that she usually associated with a busy man living alone. In Marc’s case, though, it didn’t strike her as cold, but as utilitarian and elegant in its simplicity. The only contrast to the strong lines and gray-and-beige decor was a wildflower arrangement that sat on the teak dining room table. Mari walked over to it. The huge display looked brilliant with Lake Michigan as its backdrop.

  She smiled as she touched a delicate bloom. “The purple iris and yellow daisy,” she murmured in amazement. “They’re my favorite flowers. I always loved how the yellow was cheerful and the purple was so pensive. Like sun and shade,” she murmured, a smile on her lips.

  She glanced down and saw a small card leaning against the vase with the words written on it in black ink, Welcome Mari.

  “How did you know they were my favorites?” she whispered to Marc, who stood watching her from the head of the table.

  “I once saw flowers like that pressed on the inside of one of my mother’s flower books,” he said. “On the wax covering them, she’d written, Mari’s favorites, sun and shade.”

  “Your mother saved them,” she said huskily after a moment, touching a soft bloom.

  “Yes.”

  Once the burn of tears had eased, she glanced at him. “Thank you, Marc.”

  He shrugged. “My assistant, Adrian, deserves the credit for finding them. I don’t know how that woman is able to pull off half the things she does.”

  She smiled. She knew he was trying to play down the surge of emotion she’d experienced, and she loved him for that.

  “Come on. I’ll show you your room,” he said.

  He grabbed her suitcase and showed her into what was obviously a guest bedroom, given the lack of personal items on the dresser and bedside tables. Despite its relative bareness, it was still a well-appointed room featuring a lake view and brilliant sunshine flooding through floor-to-ceiling windows. She caught Marc’s eye as he turned from setting her suitcase on a low bench. He raised his brows when he saw her amazed, amused expression.

  “You didn’t actually expect that I was going to put you in my bedroom, did you?” he asked.

  “Honestly? I did,” Mari said with a laugh as she began to unzip her suitcase.

  “Does that mean you wouldn’t have minded?”

  Mari blinked at the sound of his low voice. He sounded much closer than he had been just a second ago. She glanced over her shoulder and saw him watching her, the hint of a grin on his mouth.

  “I would have minded,” she told him with a stern look that was ruined by a smile. She turned back to unzipping her suitcase. “In fact, I appreciate you not pressing me about sharing a bedroom. This room is lovely, thank you.”

  “I’ll just let you unpack then,” he murmured.

  Mari didn’t look up until she sensed his tall figure exiting the doorway. If he only knew how much she wanted to surrender completely to the sensual promise in his hot, blue eyes.

  Chapter Eleven

  He was sitting on the L-shaped couch in the living room, sorting through a small mountain of mail, when she joined him. Briefs and memos nearly bursting out of the supple leather, a case sat next to him on the cushions. He glanced up at her when she sat in the corner of the couch.

  “You must have a million things to catch up on with work after being away for a week,” she observed.

  He carelessly tossed a thick, white envelope onto the wood and glass coffee table.

  “To hell with work.” He stood and transferred to the cushion next to Mari. He grabbed her hand. “I’m still on vacation.”

  She laughed. “You needn’t feel like you have to entertain me. You woke me up so early this morning, it’s not even lunchtime, yet. Work for a while, if you need to. I can only imagine how demanding your job is.”

  He squeezed her hand. “If you think I’m going to work when I’ve finally gotten you all to myself, you’re nuts.”

  She started to protest and noticed the way his eyes were fixed on her mouth. She inhaled and caught the hint of his spicy cologne. Heat slowly expanded in her lower belly, a sensation she seemed to always experience in Marc’s presence. She covered the hand that held hers and began to idly stroke his index finger, liking how large and different he felt in comparison to her.

  “What are we
going to do then?” she asked idly.

  When he didn’t immediately respond, her gaze flew to meet his. He’d been studying her averted cheek and exposed neck like he’d been considering taking a bite out of her. She tried to ignore the thrill that went through her at the thought.

  “How about if we take a walk, have lunch somewhere and come back for a swim. There’s a nice pool on the roof deck,” he muttered.

  Mari couldn’t help but notice he seemed much more interested in her lips than the plan he proposed. “Okay.”

  “Mari?”

  “Yes?” she asked breathlessly.

  “If you keep doing that to my finger, we’re not going anywhere.”

  Mari froze. She looked at their hands resting on the cushion. He’d covered her left hand, but she’d curled the fingers of her right hand around his index finger and had been stroking him slowly. It had taken Marc’s heavy-lidded stare and spoken warning to make her realize how suggestive the caress must have seemed.

  She released him and stood abruptly.

  “I’ll just go change then, for our walk.” She didn’t wait for him to respond before she hurried out of the room.

  Mari hadn’t been to Chicago for any extended stays since she was a child. She’d come for performances with the orchestra on several occasions, of course, but was usually too tired from traveling, practices and the performance to see much of anything but the interior of Orchestra Hall and her hotel room. She’d forgotten what a lovely city it was sitting next to the topaz jewel of Lake Michigan. Its towering, glittering high-rises and big-city sophistication blended seamlessly with the Midwestern friendliness of its residents.

  They walked north along the lakefront among bikers, skaters, joggers and beach-goers. Such a vast sampling of humanity rolled by Mari’s view that she challenged herself to be objective in her assessment of the man who walked next to her in comparison. That jogger, for instance, had Marc’s height and lean, muscular build, but he didn’t move with the confident, easy grace of a born athlete like Marc did. A dark-haired man with an intense, handsome face held his girlfriend’s hand as they walked in the other direction, but he didn’t look down at his companion with a hot gaze that could make a woman feel like she was the only female on the planet.