by Arianna Hart
That’s why she knew he’d be gone as soon as he could.
She had heard him talking to Ricardo about what he was going to do when he 'got sprung'. He’d rather take his chances trying to break into the big time than stay here and face his demons. And compared to her past, his demons were as docile as puppies.
Who was she to fault him? He had his dreams, just like she had hers, and he had every right to go for them. Even if she thought he was running away from his feelings and being a big coward. It was his choice, and if she said anything about it, it would look like she was trying to convince him to stay.
She’d keep her observations to herself. As long as she kept her head on straight, she’d be okay when he left. And she was going to keep telling herself that until her heart believed it.
Marley dropped her keys on the counter and got a bottle of water before she went to bed. Her feet were killing her, and she was almost asleep standing up.
When she saw the message light blinking repeatedly on her answering machine, she pressed the button to start the playback. At the first sound of her mother’s voice, Marley stopped the machine and erased the messages without even listening to them. She would deal with her mother another day.
She climbed into bed after washing her face, brushing her teeth and putting her hair up in a ponytail. As she lay in bed, she couldn’t help but wish she had let Hunter spend the night, even if it was just so she wouldn’t be so alone when she woke up in the morning.
—
Marley awoke to something gently tickling her nose.
She brushed it away a few times before she woke up enough to open her eyes. Hunter was leaning over her rubbing a rose petal over her face. The hand that wasn’t teasing her with the rose petal was braced along side of her, making her feel surrounded by him.
His spicy scent invaded her senses, enveloped her in his warmth, made her feel safe and protected.
“Good morning,” Hunter said, sliding the rose petal down the column of her throat to where her tank top began.
“Good morning yourself. I guess I forgot to get that key back.”
“I guess so. Do you mind?” Hunter ran the petal along her midriff where her tank pulled away from her sleep shorts. Fire trailed in its wake. He moved higher, taking the shirt off as he went, rubbing her nipples with the silky petal. The sensation was so different from anything she had ever experienced; she felt her breasts grow heavy and full for him. Her nipples puckered at the exquisite torment.
“Hm, I think I should, but I really don’t,” Marley sighed as Hunter continued on his quest.
She took her eyes off his devilish grin long enough to notice red rose petals spread around her on her white sheets. Hunter was wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, faded and tight enough to show his arousal.
With the morning sun streaming over him, turning his hair to gold and gilding his chest, Marley could think of no reason to ever ask for her key back.
Hunter moved to the foot of her bed and pulled her shorts off. She lay there wearing nothing but rose petals, and felt no shame, no embarrassment, just a desire to finish what Hunter had started.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? You look like some fairy princess just waiting to challenge some idiot knight into slaying a dragon for you.”
“I don’t need anyone to slay my dragons for me,” Marley moaned as Hunter trailed the rose petal up the inside of her leg, massaging the arch of her foot with is thumb.
“That’s what makes me want to do it so badly,” Hunter growled before his lips took over where the rose petal left off.
He sent a shot of fire through her body as his lips worked their way to her pulsing core. His fingers were tantalizingly close to her cleft, but not touching her yet. When he took a rose petal and rubbed her nubbin with it, Marley practically shot off the bed at the change in sensation.
“I wonder which is smoother, the petal of the rose, or your petals?” Hunter murmured into her thigh right before he slipped his tongue over her engorged bud.
His mouth was so hot against her core. His tongue was teasing and probing her most sensitive spot; she thought she was going to go off like a roman candle.
When he slid his finger inside her and sucked gently, she saw fireworks a month early.
Marley lay there amidst her rose petals with all the energy of a puddle of wax. She was sure if she had the right motivation she might just be able to move one of her fingers. Maybe.
With Herculean effort she turned her head to watch Hunter take off his jeans, carefully pulling the zipper down over his erection. She watched as the sun caressed his naked form and thought she might be able to move after all. When he took a condom out and started to put it on, she could feel her blood heating again.
“Come here,” Marley commanded. Her voice was husky, and she couldn’t blame it on sleep. Just watching him walk towards her naked and bold as brass turned her on unbelievably.
“I’ll take care of that for you.”
“Then I’ll take care of you,” Hunter promised.
Once their protection was taken care of, Marley pulled him on top of her and wrapped her legs around his waist. This was the first time she felt his full weight on her, and it felt heavenly. She reached around and eased him inside of her; she couldn’t wait any longer for him.
“You have rose petals stuck to your face,” he told her.
“So do you.”
“I’ll never look at a rose the same way again. Your skin is like roses. From the moment I saw you I wanted to know how they would compare.”
“Oh?” Marley was having a hard time following his words. He was pumping inside of her, sending off sparks and explosions with every strong thrust.
“They lost, good God, how they lost.” Hunter pressed his face to her neck and grabbed her hips.
As he picked up his tempo, Marley’s heart kept pace. She grabbed his muscular behind and held on while he drove into her with mindless abandon. She threw her head back and thrust up her hips, straining to reach the edge with him.
His breath came rapidly in her ear, rose petals stuck to their sweaty skin, and the heat they threw off made the summer cool in comparison. Marley knew he was waiting for her, when he used his fingers to rub her nub, he didn’t have to wait anymore.
She exploded for the second time that morning, her rapid breathing pulling in the scents of rose petals and Hunter. She savored the combination of smells as much as she savored the fullness of him. The feel of him inside her was like finding a missing puzzle piece. Something about him just clicked; it felt like a perfect fit.
—
Hunter waited for Marley to get out of the shower. He had thought about joining her in there, but changed his mind when he looked at the clock. The movers would be at his father’s house by noon, and they were already running late. Too bad, the other day when they had shared a shower it had led to another round of intense lovemaking.
Every time was intense with Marley. He got hard today just watching her sleep. She was completely covered and just the thought of how he was going to wake her was enough to cause him pain. He had never been around a woman who could do that to him after he had already slept with her.
His agent, Rick, always said Hunter was only in it for the chase, and that was why he was such a good driver. Hunter had agreed with him that the thrill of the race was much better than anything that came afterwards. Marley was proving to be an exception to that rule.
“Mar, if you don’t hurry up we are going to miss the movers. They make you pay even if they are just sitting in the driveway, you know.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming. You have no idea how hard it is to get all this hair under control,” Marley said as she walked into the living room, putting the finishing touches on her braid.
“Why not just leave it down? It looks sexy curling all over the place.” Hunter tugged on one of the loose curls that sprang free near her cheek.
“It may be sexy, but it is also hot and gets in the
way. Now come on, don’t dawdle, time is money, you know.” Marley tossed him a saucy grin as she grabbed her keys and waited for him at the door.
“Ha, ha, everyone is a comedian.”
As Hunter sauntered towards her, the phone rang.
He automatically reached for it.
“Don’t! Don’t answer it, let the machine get it.”
“Why?” Hunter asked, curious as to why she didn’t want him to answer the phone. Did it embarrass her to have him in her apartment?
“We’re already running late. I’ll return the call later. Come on, it’s not important.”
Hunter shrugged and continued to the door as the machine picked up. He slowed his pace so he could hear who was on the other line. It couldn’t be another boyfriend, could it?
“Marley, honey, I know you are there. Pick up the phone baby, it’s Vivian calling to console you in your hour of need.” The gravelly voice sounded anything but consoling—more like smug and condescending.
“Come on, Hunter, let’s go.”
“Yeah, okay.” Hunter was dying of curiosity, but the look on Marley’s face clearly said 'No Trespassing.' He would grill her later about her mother.
—
The move went well, Hunter couldn’t believe how much stuff was actually left in the house. The movers managed to get everything in the truck, and the vehicle lumbered on its way. Hunter took one last look around before he placed his key on the kitchen counter.
He could still picture his mother there every day when he came home from school. She loved to bake, and to this day the smell of chocolate chip cookies reminded him of her.
The house hadn’t been the same since the day she died, but a part of him still mourned its loss. He felt like he was being cut off from the past, never to return.
Wasn’t that what he wanted? Wasn’t that why he rarely came home? He couldn’t wait to leave the house, but now that it was being sold to someone else, he wanted it back.
He had to shake these thoughts. It was out of his hands anyway. Besides, what would he do with a house on Long Island when most of his races were down south?
Fill it with children and laughter again, said a voice inside him.
What? And give up his dreams just when he was inches from achieving them? No way. He didn’t need a house, and he didn’t need children and laughter.
His life was just fine the way it was, and once he got out of New York it would be even better.
Hunter turned away from his memories and walked out to his truck. Marley was putting something in the back, and her luscious derriere wiggled around as she tried to back out.
“What are you doing?” Hunter asked, feeling the now familiar tightening in his loins. Would this craving for her never end? One minute he was feeling depressed about selling his childhood home, and the next, with just one look at her, his body responded and he’d almost forgotten what he was upset about.
“I dug up some of the flowers that I managed to find amongst the weeds. I’m going to get a barrel and plant them in the courtyard of the building. That way you’ll always have a little piece of your home.”
Hunter was speechless. He looked at her standing by the truck wiping fruitlessly at her muddy hands, and was just stunned by her thoughtfulness.
“My mother loved to garden. Before she died our house was the showplace of the neighborhood. For a few years I tried to keep them up, but it got to be too much, then—” Hunter trailed off.
“Then you left,” Marley said quietly.
“Yes, then I left. Thank you for finding a way to keep my mother around a little bit longer.” Hunter didn’t know what else to say.
“You’re welcome.” Marley reached up and kissed him softly before climbing into the truck.
Chapter Eleven
Marley loved Mondays. She was probably one of the few people in the world who looked forward to working on Monday, but it was her favorite workday of the week. On Mondays all the college kids were busy recovering from the weekend and going to classes and most of the tourists had gone home. With a few exceptions, Monday night meant just the regulars, and that suited Marley perfectly.
She was leaning against the bar talking to old Tom, one of Seamus’ best friends when Hunter came down the stairs. Just the sight of him walking into the room with that cock-sure grin and swagger in his step was enough to make her pulse race. Marley had always scoffed at women who were attracted to arrogant men. She could never see the attraction in someone who was so full of himself. Until now.
Hunter was full of himself; there was no denying that. Marley guessed when you drove cars with astronomical price tags around a little track at high speeds, you needed to have a certain amount of self-confidence. She understood why he had it; she had just never expected to find it attractive. She was discovering an awful lot about herself that she never knew before.
Marley kept one eye on Hunter while she continued to listen to Tom. Hunter was talking to someone she hadn’t seen in the bar before. He looked up and caught her watching him and tossed her a devastatingly sexy grin. Marley felt her face flush and her blood heat. Yeah, she was discovering all sorts of new things about herself. Like she could become addicted to having a certain arrogant racecar driver around.
Excusing herself from Tom’s ramblings, Marley fled to the storeroom. Addicted? Was she becoming addicted to Hunter? No, she was just enjoying the time she had with him. And why shouldn’t she? They were two unattached, consenting adults who shared a mutual attraction. Why shouldn’t she enjoy spending almost every minute of the day and night with him?
Just because Tom had teased her earlier about looking at the back door ten or fifteen times a minute didn’t mean she was looking for Hunter.
Who was she kidding? Things were getting way out of hand. She had been rationalizing her reaction to him all along because he set her glands on fire.
Okay, so he wasn’t the superficial playboy she had first taken him for, but he was still going to leave in December. She had to cool things down before she fell even farther. The little voice in the back of her head warned her that it was already too late.
Marley took a deep breath and walked back to the bar with a few bottles of the nearest available liquor.
Okay, so they didn’t need any more Peppermint Schnapps, but at least it gave her a reason for hiding out in the back room. Hunter was sitting next to Tom laughing at something the old Irishman said.
“What’s so funny?” Marley asked, storing the bottles under the bar until she could safely tuck them back in the storeroom.
“Tom was just telling me about the time some yuppie came in here and started giving you a hard time,” Hunter said, the laughter lighting up his eyes.
Marley’s heart did another flip-flop in her chest.
“Not the Poopy Puppy story again,” Marley groaned.
“How could I resist? That bastard deserved that and more, coming in here like he owned the place, demanding to know what the drink specials were. Can’t he read the board like every other soul that walks through the door?” Tom grinned as he tapped his pipe in his hand.
“So what exactly is a ‘Poopy Puppy’?” Hunter asked, giving Marley another nerve-thrumming grin.
“A Poopy Puppy is a drink that will make you sick as a dog,” Marley answered, trying to regain her equilibrium. “It’s a mixture of Amaretto, Bailey’s, Kahlua, and butterscotch Schnapps with a splash of Coke. I charged him eight bucks for it and told him it was the next big thing to hit Manhattan. He ordered three more before he had to throw up. Idiot.”
“’Twas the most entertaining thing to happen in this place since the time your sainted mother, God rest her soul, chased the Clancy boys out of here with a broom.” Tom went on to recount the sweeping of the Clancy brothers with the dramatic flair of a natural born storyteller.
She had turned to build Tom another Guinness; storytelling was thirsty work, after all, when the front door flew open with a bang. Marley whipped her head around, prepared for a di
saster; she wasn’t disappointed.
—
“Hi, honey! Did you miss me?”
“Hello, Vivian, long time no see.”
Hunter watched the scene the way people generally view a car wreck: with a mixture of curiosity and repulsion. After what Marley had told him about her, Hunter had begun to form an image of the mysterious Vivian in his head; he’d had an idea, but seeing the reality was almost frightening.
Marley was standing behind the bar, clutching a dishtowel like she was holding on for dear life. Her eyes were wary, and she made no move to come out from behind the safety of the bar.
Hunter looked back at the woman whom Marley called mother with such distaste. On first impression he could see why. He had seen her type around the racetrack plenty of times. She had to be in her late forties, early fifties, but dressed like she was in her teens.
She had on skintight Capri pants in a leopard print with high-heeled sandals. Her black shirt was at least two sizes too small for her sagging figure, and had an oval cut out to show off her cleavage. On a younger woman the shirt would have been suggestive; on Vivian all it did was emphasize her losing battle with gravity.
Hunter could see no resemblance between mother and daughter at all, but with the amount of cosmetics Vivian was wearing it was no surprise. She looked like she had applied her makeup with a trowel; her eye shadow was caked on up to her viciously tweezed eyebrows, and she had fake eyelashes that would make a glam queen proud.
Her hair was bleach-blonde, sprayed and teased to about a foot above her head. Hunter wondered what miracle of modern chemistry could keep that much hair standing so high in this heat and humidity. His mind kept coming back to the mystery of how this woman could have produced a daughter like Marley.
“Aren’t you going to give me a hug? I came in person to offer my condolences because I couldn’t get you on the phone,” the woman said as she clattered her way into the pub. Hunter could smell her musky perfume before she got within three feet of him.
