by JoAnn Durgin
Sam and Lexa continued their banter as he heard cupboards opening and closing. Something in the oven smelled pretty great, too. He cleared his throat loud enough for them to hear before rapping on the swinging door. “Is it safe to come in?”
“Come on in and have a seat.” He heard the smile in Sam’s deep voice.
“I thought I’d join the party.” As he seated himself at a counter stool, Sam sat across from him as Lexa poured coffee into oversized ceramic mugs and placed sugar, artificial sweetener and a pitcher of cream on the counter. When she opened the oven and pulled out a huge, simmering pie, Marc grinned. “So, that’s what smells so great. Let me guess. Grandma Lewis’ special recipe?” He caught Lexa’s look of pleased surprise from the corner of his eye.
Sam grinned. “Sure is. Best homemade pie in the state of Texas, bar none.”
He hadn’t thought he could eat another thing, but he could make room for Lexa’s pie. Might need to work out a little harder once he returned to his club in Boston, but the indulgence would be totally worth it. Wow. He was starting to sound like a woman on a diet.
Sam watched as he sampled the pie and pronounced it delicious. Heaven help him if it wasn’t, but thankfully, it was. “You should think about going into the pie-making business, Lexa.” He took another bite, amused by the look on Sam’s face. It was gratifying to see how they took such satisfaction in the accomplishments of their mate. As they sipped their coffee and ate the pie, they chatted about random things and laughed easily together.
Bidding them good night an hour later, Marc puzzled over the location of the upcoming work camp. They hadn’t mentioned it again, but Sam said they’d talk more about it in the morning. Maybe after Sam and Lexa ironed out more details between the two of them. They obviously loved Natalie, and such an unselfish love was humbling.
After checking his messages from Trevor and Christy and answering a few client e-mails, he climbed into the big, four-poster antique bed made by Sam’s dad. It was a beautiful piece of sturdy craftsmanship. Marc told his host about the rocker his grandfather made that sat in their Boston home. Should he take up a hobby? It might give him something to keep his hands and mind occupied so he didn’t dwell on things, and help him focus elsewhere. He shook his head. It was a good idea, but he’d never find the time.
“So, where exactly is this work camp?” he whispered in the quiet darkness of the bedroom. He crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. Lord, maybe being with her TeamWork friends is exactly what Natalie needs. Help me know if it’s the right thing to do.
Chapter 14
Marc made the trip from Boston’s Logan Airport to the suburbs countless times, enough so he didn’t need to concentrate other than to watch out for the other guy and unexpected detours. Pulling into the driveway, he cut the engine and sat lost in thought, hands still on the steering wheel, his eyes unseeing. Coming home to an empty house filled him with sadness, and an emptiness. The physical ache for Natalie stirred inside him again. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head while lifting a silent prayer for guidance . . . and patience. Lots of patience, Lord. A soft knock on the car window caused him to jump, and he whacked his forehead on the steering wheel. “Ouch.”
“I’m sorry, Marc. I didn’t mean to startle you.” The concern in Natalie’s voice filled his heart as he slowly opened the car door. She placed a gentle hand on his forehead once he climbed out of the car and stood facing her.
He resisted the urge to lean over and kiss her. Instead, he shrugged, massaging his brow, giving her a wry grin. The hint of mischief in her eye sent his pulse soaring. “You can knock me senseless if it makes you smile at me like that.” He hadn’t glimpsed this playful side of her since her tumble down the steps. She looked incredible in a pink sweater and jeans, her hair pulled up in a pretty twist on top of her head. Pre-amnesia, he’d have kissed her senseless right there on the driveway, released her hair and carried her inside and up the stairs. Focus. “To what do I owe the honor of your presence, my love? Sorry,” he said, holding up one hand. “Force of habit.”
“I don’t mind a bit. Come on, let’s go inside. I made us a good dinner.”
“You did?” he stammered. “Why?” The question slipped out. “I mean, this is a terrific surprise. I appreciate it.” Appreciate? He appreciated the kid who delivered the newspaper every morning and the guy who delivered his sandwiches to the office when he didn’t have a client lunch. Sure, they expected a generous tip, but from his wife, it was so much more than mere appreciation. His pulse thrummed and surged throughout his body. He loved that Natalie said us, meaning she intended to stay. At least through dinner. He couldn’t expect miracles, but this was encouraging.
She laughed. “Why make dinner for you? Because you just got back from a trip and deserve a good dinner. I called your office and Christy told me you were getting back today from a trip. There’s only so many nights you can eat takeout or frozen.”
Grabbing his overnight bag and computer case, Marc reached for her hand. Did he dare believe she’d missed him? He’d only been gone overnight. He wondered if his ever-efficient assistant also told Natalie he’d been in Houston. “If I’d known you’d be here, I wouldn’t have come home empty-handed. I’d have brought you flowers, at the very least.” From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed her Audi a little further down the street. In his preoccupied state, he hadn’t noticed it. As they walked through the front door, hands intertwined, he dared to slip his other hand around her waist.
“I don’t need flowers or anything else. Spending time together is all we need,” she said.
The warmth in her smile, the genuine affection in her voice, melted his heart in so many ways. The aroma of a homecooked meal wafted throughout the house. “Smells great. What can I do to help?” Marc followed her through the front foyer and into the kitchen.
“Relax, go change or whatever you need to do, and I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready. It shouldn’t be much longer than twenty minutes or so.”
Removing his suit jacket, Marc draped it across a chair, determined not to leave her, thankful she was here with him in their house. He watched her move about the kitchen, busy with the dinner preparations, half-listening as she told him about her classroom and new students. It seemed so normal. For even a few minutes, he glimpsed what they’d shared before and what he hoped they’d become again: a married couple. Lovers. Parents. She asked him to help carry the dishes to the dining room table, and smiled when he insisted on lighting candles. When he bowed to ask the blessing, he was pleased when her hand reached for his again and held on tight.
They enjoyed casual dinner conversation as they ate the delicious roast chicken. Natalie told him amusing stories from the classroom and he told her about some ideas he’d been tossing around for the agency. It was the most comfortable, easy meal they’d shared in months. Marc didn’t have the heart to tell her he hated scalloped potatoes and asparagus made him gag. She’d never made them for him before, but tonight they tasted delicious as he swallowed one slow bite after another. Lots of water helped force it down, drowning the bitter aftertaste of the asparagus. The best part of the meal was the blueberry cobbler. As he spooned the last bite into his mouth, he released a contented sigh. “This is my favorite dessert. How did you know?”
“I pulled out the cookbook that looked the most well-worn. The page for the cobbler had notes scribbled all over it and a few dried stains that looked suspiciously like blueberries.”
“Well, it’s delicious, as always. Thanks. Here, let me help you with the dishes,” he said as he cleared their plates from the table. With a grateful smile, she handed him a dishtowel.
With the last pan dried a few minutes later, Natalie folded the dishtowel and laid it on the kitchen counter. With a small smile playing about her lips, she leaned close, her breath tickling his ear as she whispered, “I’m going upstairs. Why don’t you join me in ten minutes.” It wasn’t a question. It sounded . . . enticing. Her lips gently nuzzled his cheek.<
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Blood coursed through his veins and Marc wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. What in the world happened in the twenty-four hours since he’d been in Houston? His throat dry, he watched as she slowly ascended the servant’s staircase. She looked as slender as the day he first met her, with no visible, outward sign yet of the new life growing inside her. Pausing on the stairs, she turned and gave him another warm, playful smile. A hope for their shared future glimmered in his mind. For the first time since she’d moved out, Natalie was taking a step back in his direction. From all indications, a very big step. Maybe Sam and Lexa’s prayers had a direct pipeline to God’s ear.
Marc paced like an anxious groom eager to join his bride before darting into the bathroom off the kitchen. Grabbing the spare toothbrush and mouthwash he kept beneath the sink, his eyes strayed to the small clock mounted on the wall. The next ten minutes would seem an eternity. Finished gargling a couple of minutes later, he leaned against the sink and closed his eyes.
Lord, I don’t know what’s going on in the mind of my beautiful wife right now, but . . . thank you.
Returning to the living room, he resumed his pacing and checked his watch. The very second the ten minutes passed, he climbed the stairs, forcing slow steps when all he wanted to do was run like an overeager kid. Natalie waited for him in the doorway of the master bedroom, wearing a light blue silk robe, loosely tied at the waist. Her hair curled at her shoulders, and she twisted her hands together in front of her before dropping them to her sides.
Climbing to the top landing, his eyes never leaving hers, Marc crossed the hallway. He caught a whiff of the tantalizing perfume that drove him wild. Talk about an aphrodisiac. The scientist who invented that scent deserved millions. The first time Natalie wore it—on their honeymoon—they didn’t leave their Italian villa for two incredible days. The dim light reflected the luminosity of her eyes as they focused on him. She looked alluring, but vulnerable.
Natalie had planned this evening—the dinner, the playfulness, the provocative invitation to come upstairs. Surely she wouldn’t tease, wouldn’t tempt him and not intend to follow through with her seduction. Did she remember anything about their honeymoon—the tenderness, the intimacy, the unbridled passion? His pulse soared to a new height.
Taking him by the hand, she led him into the bedroom. Candles glowed inside, and he heard the mellow, smooth sounds of a jazz quartet. She’d certainly set the mood—not that it would take much. He almost couldn’t breathe as she untied the robe and lowered it. As it puddled on the floor at her feet, Marc kept his eyes trained on her face. He could tell she wore a sheer negligee she’d taken on their honeymoon, but if his eyes lingered south of her lovely, long neck, there’d be no turning away. This was the dream he’d had for weeks—months, really—and he hardly dared believe it was reality. If it was a dream, he hoped never to awaken. “Is this what you want, Natalie?”
She nodded and lowered her eyes, and it brought to mind her shyness the first night of their honeymoon. This is like her wedding night again. The thought staggered him, and was incredibly sentimental and frustrating all at once. Given permission, his eyes traveled the length of her in a slow, leisurely path. She was incredible. Beautiful. His.
Make her remember.
His hands encircled Natalie’s waist as he drew her to him. She made no protest and willingly leaned into him, curving her body into his. Oh yes, this woman was made for him. Marc’s hands rested on the delicious curve of her hips as he lowered his head. Their lips met, tentative at first and then with increasing desire. He needed to take it slow, but it was difficult to hold back as he cupped her face between his hands and poured all the emotion, all his need and longing, into kissing his wife. “Natalie, you feel so good. I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered, kissing her neck in the way she loved before moving back to her mouth. “I love you.” His voice was thick, husky with desire. His pulse throbbed everywhere.
She smiled and, sifting gentle fingers through his hair, drew him closer. Her body language spoke volumes. She wanted this, wanted him. Natalie’s warm lips were as supple and welcoming as always. Although she kissed him back with true passion, there was still a nagging tug in the back of Marc’s mind. Something’s not right. For one thing, she didn’t tell him she loved him. Call him a latent romantic, but sometimes a guy needed to hear it, especially from his wife.
Pushing aside the thoughts, he concentrated on showing Natalie how much he loved her, how desperately he wanted and needed her in every possible way. He kissed her deeply and caressed her face, his fingers tracing a slow path down to the small of her neck. A moan of desire escaped from his throat as he whispered her name, glorying in their intimacy and the promise of the night.
Natalie’s hands shook as they traveled an upward path toward his shoulders before dropping to his shirt, unbuttoning one slow button at a time before parting it with gentle fingers. Oh, how he’d waited for this moment. Enjoying the closeness, the touching, Marc tried to ignore the faint line tightening her brows as he unfastened the cuff links and pulled the shirt away from his shoulders. His gut clenched hard as her lips quivered. Those rosebud lips weren’t trembling from desire.
Something’s not right here. She’s only doing this for you. It’s a gesture borne from her desire to be a good wife and perform her wifely duties. Nothing more.
He stifled a groan, and his heart sank quicker than a felled tree crashing to the ground. Placing his hands over hers, Marc stilled them against his chest. Natalie’s eyes questioned, but she said nothing. Swallowing the huge lump in his throat, he lowered his head. Drawing her hands away, he blew out a sigh from the deepest recesses of his heart. It took everything within him to do it.
Lord, you know I can’t do it. I hope you appreciate this sacrifice. I want her more than anything, and I’m her husband, but you know I can’t take advantage of this situation.
“Not like this, Natalie. Not like this.” His anguished words were barely more than a whisper. He averted his gaze or he’d stare longingly at her loveliness beneath the negligee. His fingers shook as he buttoned the middle of his shirt and slumped down onto the bed. Releasing another soft, low moan, Marc lowered his head to his hands, his elbows resting on his thighs. “You don’t remember making love with me, do you?” Even though he hated it, the question begged to be asked. He knew the answer in his heart. Of course, she didn’t.
She doesn’t even remember being married to you.
Those shaking fingers, those big eyes, those trembling lips, said it all.
“Marc, I’m failing you as a wife.” Sitting beside him, Natalie shed silent tears. “I want to make you happy. You have expectations as my husband, and I’m willing . . .”
Putting a finger over her lips, he kissed her damp cheek and took hold of her hand, squeezing it. “I know you are, sweetheart, and that means the world. You’re not failing me. But until it’s something that’s fully in your heart, I can wait. I don’t want it to be an experiment, a test. I want you to make love to me, your husband and soul mate, not just some great looking man who begs you to love him.”
She didn’t crack a grin at his lame attempt at humor. Oh, the sweet irony.
“God’s teaching me patience, I can tell you that much.” Tipping her chin, he waited until she looked him directly in the eye, “I’m not going anywhere.” Brushing her lips with his, he curled a strand of dark hair around one finger.
“I’m not sure I deserve you, Marc. I do love you. You must know that. I just need more time.”
It helped to hear her say she loved him. “I know. But I want you to know it up here,” he said, lightly touching her forehead, “as much as you feel it in here.” He placed a careful, gentle hand on the soft flesh above her heart. “It needs to be something we’re both ready for together, not something you feel you have to do in order to keep me happy.”
The relief he saw in her eyes nearly broke his heart. But it was more than her eyes—it was in her shoulders, her body posture, everything.
He’d never felt such deep-seated hurt in his life, but it wasn’t her fault. He needed someone to blame, but again, the finger of blame pointed to him alone for not fixing that blasted, rotting stair.
“How could I ever forget you?”
Marc shook his head. “I don’t have an answer for that one. What I can tell you is that I’m going to do everything in my power to help you regain your memories. If not the old memories, then we’ll make new ones together.” He faced her on the bed and, taking her hand, softly kissed her palm. “No matter what happens, you’ll grow to love me even more than you did the first time.” He kissed her cheek again, pleased when she leaned into it. “That’s a promise. And I always keep my promises.”
“Dr. Fontaine’s wrong, you know.” Natalie’s head dropped to his shoulder. That perfume was driving him crazy, and her hair smelled like sunshine mixed with flowers. He couldn’t have her, and it was killing him.
He snapped out of his reverie. “In what way?”
“You’re not selfish. If you were, we’d be making love right now.”
Shaking his head, Marc chuckled under his breath. “Please don’t remind me. I’m not only selfless, I’m incredibly stupid to boot.” He retrieved her robe from the floor. “I also need to cover you up before I can think clearly much less speak coherently.”
She smiled a little as he pulled the robe around her and draped it across her shoulders. He had to focus on what he had to tell her without being faced straight-on by the fact she was clothed so revealingly and was so absolutely tempting. The Lord had to give him a lot of credit for self-restraint.
“I have a plan. Something that might help,” he said. Those eyes were bright and trusting as Natalie wiped away a tear and met his gaze. He never wanted to let this woman down, never wanted to betray her trust, that blind faith. “My trip to Houston yesterday wasn’t for the agency. I went to see friends of yours.”
