Natural Attraction

by Marisa Carroll

  Yet maybe that was the problem. She was too set in her ways.

  As she repinned her hair, Jessie tried again, for the thousandth time, to talk herself into accepting the idea of giving Mark a child. It was a futile exercise. She knew herself too well. She’d fought hard for her serenity and maturity. She loved Mark as much as ever, even more now that she’d given up his love. But she was also aware that agreeing to have a baby would only create more problems than it solved.

  She adored her daughters, but her dreams had gone in other, less maternal directions now that they were older and more independent, directions that were only beginning to take form and substance in her thoughts. How could she make Mark understand so fundamental and private a decision when it involved him so intimately? It was hard to find the right words even for herself.

  It was best if the subject never came up. The disillusion in Mark’s eyes the night they’d broken off their relationship had seared its image into her memory. Granted, last night when he came to pick up the twins, he’d been almost his old self, the man she’d fallen in love with on the island. But she couldn’t risk hurting him any more. Added to all the other questions and complications was the new problem of Kerry Bay. Just where did she fit into Mark’s life? Was she the woman to give him happiness?

  So it was probably inevitable that Kerry was the first person Jessie saw as she stepped inside Meanderings’s door.

  The other woman looked even younger than Jessie remembered as she came forward to take Jessie’s lightweight trench coat. She is a fairy child grown up, Jessie thought mournfully, as the slim figure deposited the coat in a closet behind her desk. Whatever the twins’ speculation as to Kerry’s character and motives, the limpid green eyes she turned on Jessie were guileless and full of lively intelligence.

  Jessie’s heart sank into her shoes. It was evident Kerry was everything Mark subconsciously wanted and needed in a woman, a damsel in distress who appealed to a man like Mark with old-fashioned ideas of chivalry. Jessie smiled in return at Kerry’s shy gesture of friendship. No matter how hard Jessie tried, she wouldn’t be able to hate Kerry Bay.

  “Hello, Mrs. Meyer,” Kerry greeted Jessie politely. Her words were like grace notes from a crystal wind chime. She was wearing a very feminine ice-pink, high-necked blouse and a gauzy skirt in a deeper shade of pink. They weren’t expensive garments, but it didn’t matter. Kerry still managed to look soft and delicate, like an English tea rose.

  Jessie tugged at her serviceable oatmeal tweed suit, straightening the blazer a little roughly. Kerry pretended not to notice, popping a cover on her Smith-Corona. She motioned through the door that led to the printing plant, the composing room and Mark’s apartment. “Mark—I mean, Mr. Elliot is waiting for you. He said to go right in.”

  “Thank you, Kerry,” Jessie replied in a voice that was as dry as her throat.

  “Please tell him…” Kerry blushed entrancingly. Jessie wondered if it was possible for Kerry to control a supposedly involuntary reaction so that it exactly matched the shade of pink in her blouse. Dusky curls danced around a pixie face as thick lashes lowered over the green eyes for a fraction of a second. “Please tell Mr. Elliot I’ll mail the quarterly tax reports you sent over. And I’ll lock up on my way out.”

  “I’ll be happy to pass on the message,” Jessie said, and meant it. At least she’d have one coherent sentence to speak. Her pulse beat so hard in her temples she was sure Kerry could hear the echo all the way across the room. Her palms were damp. She took a firm grip on her shoulder bag. Somehow she hadn’t planned on being alone with Mark. They’d had so little time alone before. She always fantasized their meetings in company, except when memories of that magic night she’d spent in his arms worked their way past the filtering sensors of her brain.

  “Good night, Mrs. Meyer. I think you’ve done some excellent work on those shots for the spring issue.” The compliment was added as a shy rider to the parting remark.

  “Why, thank you, Kerry. My daughters are three of my favorite subjects,” Jessie said, pleased.

  “I particularly like the one of them all foraging with Mark.” This time she didn’t try to correct the familiar use of his name. It was all too clear to Jessie that, although Kerry might appear young enough to be one of the twins’ classmates, she was definitely a grown woman. Kerry Bay was sizing up the competition. What remained to be seen was how much of a threat she perceived Jessie to be.

  Kerry’s eyes traveled dismissively over the tweed suit and amber blouse Jessie wore. It was evident she didn’t consider Jessie too much of a problem for the time being. She smiled beguilingly. “It must be very helpful having such photogenic subjects to work with.” Somehow Jessie didn’t think she meant the girls.

  “It certainly doesn’t hurt. Good night, Kerry.” Jessie sailed through the swinging doors with her head high. She truly wished Kerry Bay had been the two-legged she-wolf the twins envisioned. She could fight a woman like that much more easily. Kerry roused too many conflicting, sympathetic feelings in Jessie. They had too much in common: two women alone, raising their children, in love with the same man. They couldn’t be enemies.

  Jessie didn’t intend to fight anyone for Mark’s love. She’d given it up of her own free will; no one had taken him from her. On that distressing and deflating note she came face to face with the man of her dreams.

  “Has Kerry left?” Mark knew the moment he spoke the words that they were the wrong ones. The soft look of happy anticipation on Jessie’s face died away, leaving her eyes cool and watchful, a faint line between her brows.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, she asked me to tell you she’ll mail the quarterly tax reports and lock up on her way out.”

  “Thanks.” Damn it, he’d been worrying that Jessie and Kerry might meet this way; he’d planned to be there to run interference. Now it was too late. Mark wondered what had passed between the two women in his life. How was he ever going to explain his protective and confusing feelings for Kerry Bay to the woman who held his heart in her keeping?

  “Well?” Jessie didn’t try to disguise the sharp edge to her voice. She’d attempted to prepare herself for Kerry, but it hadn’t been enough. The lovely doll-like creature with her great luminous green eyes, peaches-and-cream complexion and quiet, gentle voice had given Jessie’s self-image and self-esteem a rude jolt.

  “Well?” Mark followed his own thoughts. Should he confess all of it? Tell Jessie how Kerry made him feel wanted and needed those first bad weeks after he and Jessie had broken off. How her youth and blatant sexual interest in him had bolstered his sorely bruised ego? No, he’d better not; Jessie wasn’t looking very sympathetic at the moment. She probably wouldn’t even believe him if he told her that his relationship with Kerry had so far been platonic—for reasons he preferred not to analyze more closely.

  “Mark.” Exasperation tinged her tone. “The mock-up, where is it?” Good Lord, couldn’t he get his mind off Kerry long enough to show her the proofs? Jessie’s temper raised its sleeping head. She felt like giving the aggravating, infuriating man before her a good hard shake. “Mark, I’m speaking to you.”

  “What? Oh, the mock-up.” Mark gave her a thorough searching glance, then laughed, seeming to throw off the spell that enveloped him. Jessie eyed him cautiously. “It’s over here on the board. We’ve got some of the best stuff you’ve done yet, Jess. I don’t think we’ll have any problem at all selling the story to National Geographic.” He held out his hand and Jessie took it reluctantly, all too aware of the vivid reminders his touch had evoked the night before. Today was no different. Her temper died; her breath stuck in her throat. She had to send a frantic and direct message to her brain to get her lungs working again. Mark, apparently unaffected by her malaise, drew her toward the long, angled storyboard and mock-up of the article.

  “What do you think, Jess?”

  “Oh, it does look good. It really does.” Jessie let her eyes roam over the shots he’d chosen. Most of them were favorites of
her own: candid shots of the twins; Mark at the woodpile and the fire; Nell with a grin as big as all outdoors, fishing. Only the study of her youngest daughter and her starfish was absent. Jessie tried hard to hide her disappointment. It was, for her, by far the most interesting and evocative photograph she’d ever taken. “This is marvellous, even in this rough stage. This issue is going to put Meanderings over the top.” She spun around in excitement, to find Mark only inches away.

  “I think so, too. I’m going all out with this issue, Jess.” Enthusiasm spilled out along with the words. “I’m going to double the run, make a big push at advertising, publicity, the works. I’m putting every cent I’ve got into it. And I’ve got a cover that will sell it all by itself.”

  “You do?” Jessie said numbly. His arms were on either side of her, almost as if he were blocking her escape. That was silly, she wasn’t going to run away. Or was she? Jessie backed against the storyboard, taking a deep breath. Her nostrils filled with the invigorating, heady scent of his skin. Her bag slid down her arm, dropping onto the floor with a weighty thud. Mark ignored the distraction, but Jessie leaned forward, welcoming the excuse to break the heated regard of his gaze.

  “Leave it, Jess,” he ordered. His arm reached out to take her hand again. “Come with me. The cover mock-up is in my safe. I wanted it to be a surprise.” She might have been a robot programmed to the sound of his commands, at least to the timbre of his voice. She stood passively in the middle of the room while he opened the safe and took out an ordinary manilla folder. As he spread it open on his desk, Jessie moved forward as though she’d been pulled by invisible strings.

  She knew what she would see. It was Nell and the starfish. The print was of excellent quality, attesting to Mark’s more sophisticated equipment. It was a kaleidoscope of color and texture, shadings of light and dark. But who had told him it was her favorite shot? “My mother,” Jessie breathed. Mark didn’t pretend to misunderstand.

  “Last night. I told her I wanted the cover to be full of life and energy but I hadn’t chosen a format or a subject as yet. She told me she considered this the best work you’d ever done. When I got back here, I took a second look at it; then everything just seemed to fall in place. Marta was right, Jess. Look at Nell. She’s everything I want our kids to be: alive, energetic, in love with life and learning about life.” He saw the stricken look on Jessie’s face.

  Mark rounded the corner of the desk in two swift strides. “I meant New England’s children, Jessie, not the children I want to have with you.” There was the faintest hint of sadness and resignation in his tone. Or was she only superimposing her own regrets on his words? “Don’t look so frightened, Jess. That’s over and done with. I won’t hound you about it again.”

  “You didn’t. I’m sorry.” She let the heartfelt apology hang in the air between them a moment before continuing. “This is the kind of future we want for all the children.” Jessie ordered her thoughts back to the cover, injecting a note of enthusiasm into her voice. “It’s a sensational cover, Mark. It says exactly what you want it to. It shows her joy in life, in discovering nature. It’s all there. Congratulations.”

  Mark’s hands reached out to circle her waist, spinning her off her feet. “Jess, you took that shot, not me. All I did was blow up the negative and arrange the wording on the cover to least interfere with the imagery you created. We make a hell of a team.” He let her slide down the taut, corded length of his body. “We do make one hell of a team. I’ve missed you, Jess.” His voice was low and rough, barely above a whisper. His mouth swooped down to stifle her instinctive protest. Jessie held back a long moment, stiffening in his embrace before giving in to her natural, inevitable response to his touch. Jessie leaned into his embrace with no further restraint, hungry for the sensations only Mark could produce in her.

  “I’ve missed you, too, so much. I’ve wanted to be with you so often.” His mouth parted hers, his tongue entered to search out the satiny moistness. “Mark, don’t stop….” What was she saying? He was involved with another woman and she was asking him, telling him, to make love to her. Next she would be speaking things that should never be said aloud. She’d lost her mind. “Mark, we can’t…”

  “Shh, Jess. Just let me hold you a minute. I’ll come to my senses, I promise. But, God, how I’ve missed being with you and the girls.” His hands framed her face, tangling in wisps of coppery hair.

  Why did that simple fragment of speech snag so stubbornly on her consciousness? Being with you and the girls. Why did it suddenly make everything right? She couldn’t understand, but then, nothing at the moment made sense. There was very little reality at all beyond the touch of Mark’s hands through the thin silk of her blouse, the taste of his kisses on her lips, the heat of him burning through layers of fabric and skin to sear her soul. “This isn’t right, Mark. Not anymore. We haven’t solved anything…I don’t believe in casual…liaisons.”

  “This isn’t casual.” Mark pressed her more tightly against the desk and his desire for her was blatant. Jessie felt the stirrings of feminine power deep in her middle. She burned from the heat of her apprehensions changing into need and then lingering on in the molten glow of renewing passion. “We can discuss our problems, Jess. We’ve hurt each other too much to have done that before today. Now maybe we can start to talk—but later, in my loft, after I’ve held you and loved you enough to think coherently. Say you’ll come with me, Jess.”

  Several buttons of her blouse opened under the persuasive attack of his long tapered fingers. His hands played along the lacy froth of her ivory-toned chemise. Again, she wasn’t wearing a bra today. He concentrated his attention on her breasts, his hands moving, circling with lazy deliberations over contracting nipples. Jessie groaned against Mark’s lips. She knew she should deny him what he asked, at least insist on conversation before making love to him again, but her body refused to listen to her logic. She kissed him back, arching into the warmth of his callused palms, glorying in the resurgence of her love for him. “Yes, I’ll stay a little while. But we do have to talk. Loving you again won’t make our problems go away. I’m afraid it will only add to them.”

  “I’m beginning to understand your reservations…” Mark never finished what he was going to say. Jessie had heard it, too. The door to the corridor had slammed shut behind hurrying footsteps that were headed directly for the composing room.

  “Damn, another infernal interruption.” Mark stepped away, sending a stirring rush of cool air over Jessie’s bare breasts. He slipped the thin silk straps back over her shoulders. She whirled away, her fingers flying to restore order to her clothing, her heart beating high and hard in her throat. Mark ran his hand through his hair distractedly and put a few more steps between them.

  “Who could be coming back to the magazine this late?” She voiced her thoughts aloud.

  “Mark, thank God you’re still here.”

  Jessie turned at the fraying edge of hysteria in Kerry Bay’s lilting voice. She stood silhouetted in the doorway of Mark’s office.

  “I don’t know what to do.” A tiny, melodious sob broke from Kerry’s lips. She almost ran the last few steps across the room to hurl herself into Mark’s arms.

  “Kerry, what’s the problem? Is it the children?” Mark sounded as bewildered as Jessie felt. “Has something happened to your children?”

  “No.” The negative was more an interpretation of Kerry’s frantic gestures than an utterance. “They’re with my landlady.”

  “Did you wreck your car?” Mark glanced over at Jessie with a purely male appeal for deliverance from a crying female. She’d know what to do. Kerry’s sobbing whirlwind intrusion into his reunion with Jessie had been a shock.

  He hadn’t meant to seduce Jessie here and now—in truth, he wondered if he wasn’t the one seduced—but he could have made things right with her if only they’d had more time. Now he was back to square one if the obdurate, uncomprehending look on Jessie’s face was any indication of her mood. It was a
ll going to go haywire again. He’d never get a chance to tell her what he’d been thinking of all these weeks. Not if she reacted like this.

  Kerry’s tears were soaking his shirt front. Mark dragged his attention back to her. “Kerry.” He spoke as severely as her unsteady condition allowed. “Try and tell me what happened.”

  “The IRS.” More sobs. Kerry burrowed deeper into the front of his shirt.

  “The IRS?”

  “Yes,” Kerry wailed. “This notice was in the mail.” Still sobbing, she waved the registered letter under Mark’s nose. “I’m being audited by the IRS.”

  “Is that all?” Was there just a suggestion of impatience in his raspy baritone? Jessie’s ears pricked up. Could it be that Kerry’s clinging-vine loveliness was beginning to get on Mark’s nerves? His long, strong arms wound around Kerry protectively. She lifted her face and gave him a smile that would have blinded Jessie if it had been turned in her direction. It wasn’t. It was meant solely for Mark’s benefit.

  “What am I going to do, Mark? David took care of everything. When he left me I was so angry I even burned a lot of his things. How will I explain that to the IRS? How will I ever afford to pay any more money to the government?” Genuine horror seared through the crystal chimes of her voice.

  Jessie felt real sympathy for Kerry’s plight for the first time. An IRS audit had sent much stronger people than Kerry rushing in gibbering panic into her office at Abrahms and Mahoney. “They aren’t gangsters, Kerry,” she said kindly, moving over to the storyboard. Jessie scooped her bag off the floor and rummaged inside for a tissue to offer the weeping woman. “The IRS tries to be fair. They’ll give you time to find your records. Couldn’t you contact your ex-husband?”

  “I don’t know where he is for certain.” She gave Jessie a defiant stare, pride firming her doll-like features, giving her a great deal more maturity. “He couldn’t take it any longer,” she explained defensively. “No work, no prospects for getting any. I’m not sure where he went or where he is. California, I guess. He sends checks for the kids in care of his parents whenever he can. Oh, God, they’ll want to see those, won’t they? I didn’t keep receipts. Mark?” She started crying again.