Love Uncharted

by Berinn Rae

  She stared at the garage door gliding up then turned to him. “Since you know everything about me, I think it would be only fair of you to tell me things about yourself.”

  He parked inside the two-car garage and turned off the engine. The seat leather squeaked beneath him when he leaned back. “Yes, it’s only fair. What would you like to know?”

  She blinked, meeting his gaze then a soft smile crept to her lips. “At first I thought you may be an immigrant, was I right?”

  “Why would you assume that?” He returned her smile.

  “Your name, Tomislav Medar. It’s unusual, not something I’ve heard before.”

  “You’re half right. Both my parents are from Croatia and so is my name. My father came here in the early seventies. My mother followed him two years later, with my sister and brother who were six and four years old at the time. I arrived about nine months later.”

  Olivia’s eyes widened as his words sunk in. “You were born nine months after your mom came here.”

  “Yes. Like our Milo, I was a ‘surprise’ baby.” He rolled a low chuckle. “They didn’t plan to have more children, but they hadn’t seen each other in over two years. Can you blame them?”

  Olivia turned away from him and played with the buttons on the passenger door. “They must love each other very much.”

  Sadness washed over Tom, making him sigh heavily. “My father passed away eight years ago, on Mother’s Day. My family is still healing.”

  The touch of Olivia’s hand on his sent warmth through him. “My father was killed in a car accident over twenty years ago. In a strange way, I’m still trying to get over the grief. Don’t know if I ever will.”

  Tom nodded, hoping she’d change the topic to something lighter.

  “You and your wife didn’t plan to have children?”

  Her question jolted him. My wife and I? “We — you and I — planned on having children, only not as soon. But when the doctor confirmed our little stick was right, we were ecstatic. We fell in love with our baby in an instant.” He opened the driver’s side and put one foot on the concrete garage floor. “Let’s talk about this over dinner. Can you smell it?”

  She too stepped out of the vehicle. “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a long time. It smells delicious. I’m starving.”

  Before he reached the garage side door leading into the house, she stopped him. “Where did we meet?”

  One hand on the doorknob, he smiled at the fond memory. “In the campus library, by the entrance there was a huge photocopier. You came in and scanned the room as if searching for someone. When I saw you, I said something like, ‘How can a man concentrate with so many girls around? What a gorgeous girl.’”

  A grin lit her pretty face. “That was you?”

  Tom gasped and hope kindled in him. “You remember?”

  “I remember someone said those words, but that was it. I never dated the guy or knew who said it. Until now.”

  “You gave me the dirtiest look ever and left. I ran after you and we had a coffee in the cafeteria.”

  “See? In my life I walked away. Our stories differ. I am not your wife, but I’ll pretend to be until this is over.”

  At his sigh of exasperation, she pursed her lips. How he yearned to kiss them. Her soft yet eager lips pressed against his throat and trailing down his chest during their last lovemaking, flashed in his memory. He wrapped her in his embrace and pulled her to him. “I don’t want you to pretend.”

  His lips crushed hers and she welcomed him with her warmth and a soft moan, leaning into him. Her hungry kiss reminded him of their first date when he’d taught her the difference between lust and love. He pulled away, and judging by her pouty lips and closed eyes, he left her wanting more. “Why are we standing here in the freezing garage? Let’s go in.”

  He opened the door, letting the aroma of the tarragon and sweet onion he used in the stew linger in the air and make his mouth water. Sounds of cartoons coming from the television set mixed with the piercing noises of Milo’s toys.

  Olivia unzipped her long coat. “Don’t you think it’s ironic?”

  He narrowed his gaze. Uh-oh, would her story differ from his again? “What is?”

  “Couples usually meet on single’s cruise or at weddings, and you and me next to the Xerox machine.”

  Her comment brought relief to his mind and a smile to his lips. “Not ironic at all. After two years of dating and five years of marriage, we still love each other. That’s what’s important, not where we met.”

  He opened the double French doors and stepped into the living room.

  Jason halted, holding his red light-saber in mid-air. Pivoting, the babysitter pulled his Darth Vader mask off his face. “Your Mommy and Daddy are home.”

  Lights on Milo’s blue saber went out and the toy ceased making battle noises. His plastic Jedi cape swished around him as he ran to them. “Mommy, Daddy, I had fun with Jason. He knows how to play Star Wars.”

  “I can see that, but you’ll have to continue playing Jedi some other day,” Tom said, picking his son up. He smiled at the two babies in the playpen. Jason’s girl must’ve had a growth spurt. “Looks like Rosie and Yasmin are having a ball, chewing on their teething toys, but they need to go to bed and your bedtime is soon, too. Say goodbye to Darth and Yasmin, you’ll see them soon.”

  “Oh my God.” Olivia stepped in front of Jason, creasing her forehead. “Aren’t you the rebellious teenager two doors down?”

  Jason’s thin lips twitched in an awkward smile and his cheeks reddened. “Not rebellious since I’ve become a daddy. Life taught me a lesson.”

  She kept inspecting his face. “But you’re only fifteen years old.”

  Bafflement reflected in the young man’s expression as he frowned, but a proud smile replaced his scowl. “I’m almost twenty one and will be graduating high school. Yeah, I’m behind, but if it weren’t for you and Tom, who knows where I’d be. Messed up on drugs, more than likely I’d be lost in the system.” Concern filled his features as his eyebrows drew closer. “Are you all right, Olivia?”

  Her breath sped and she darted her glance from Jason to Tom. “The time must’ve shifted when I was transported here. What year is this?”

  “It’s two thousand and thirteen.” The words dragged out of Jason’s mouth. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

  Tom handed money to Jason and ushered him out of the living room, puzzlement clearly written on the young man’s face. “She’s fine, just a bit confused.”

  For the first time, he doubted his own words and her theory of switching places with his real wife seemed best explanation.

  “Mr. Medar, you overpaid me again.” Jason’s voice broke Tom’s moment of doom.

  Tom raised his hands and shook his head at Jason’s fingers holding a twenty dollar bill. “It’s quite all right. You’ve earned it coming here on such a short notice.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Medar.” After pocketing the money, Jason took his jacket and Yasmin’s bundle bag out of the coat closet. “We’ll be off now.”

  Tom set the dining table while Jason got his daughter ready. Not that he needed to remind Jason of the court’s order and the condition under which he was granted custody of his baby, but as his attorney, he was there to enforce it. “Stay in school and keep up your grades.”

  “Of course, Mr. Medar.” Jason ruffled Milo’s hair. “I had fun with the kids, good night.” He then turned to Olivia. “Good night, Olivia. Hope you feel better.”

  She nodded, her stare fixed at the plain wall.

  Tom placed a soft kiss on her temple. “Let’s eat like a family.” He turned to Milo. “Son, put your toys away, it’s dinner time.”

  “I know him as this kid in black clothes, his face buried in the deep hood of his sweatshirt, and he never looks people in the eye.” Olivia nodded toward the door of the living room Jason had left through. “What made him snap out of it?”

  “His girlfriend wanted to put their baby up for adoption.
He wanted to keep it. His parents employed me as his legal counselor. It wasn’t easy, but I convinced the judge and got Jason into rehab. He’s come a long way.” Tom rubbed his palms, scanning the set table. Right, food could be served. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He stepped into the spacious kitchen, warmed up the jar of homemade puréed baby food and poured some in the bowl. Under the circumstances, asking Olivia to prepare a meal for Rosie might be too much.

  “Hope everyone’s hungry,” he announced, placing the filled plates on the table. When he picked Rosie up from her playpen, he couldn’t help it but blow a raspberry on her little exposed belly. His baby girl giggled, which enticed him to repeat the action.

  He placed Rosie in her highchair at the table and caught Olivia’s grin. His heart warmed. “You enjoyed watching that display?”

  She covered her mouth with a napkin and stifled a chuckle. “I did. Usually if I saw parents do that in public it would disgust me.” She leaned closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. “This life must be growing on me.”

  Milo stepped to her and tugged her elbow. She turned to him. He held a drawing in front of her face. “I made this for you to make you feel better. Do you like it?”

  “I — ” She took the picture of four stick figures in her hands and her eyebrows rose, then cast a pleading look to Tom.

  He sat next to Olivia. “Mommy loves it. Why don’t you tell her all about it?”

  Milo didn’t need further encouragement. He slapped the paper on the table and wiggled his way onto Olivia’s lap. “This is Daddy and you and me and this here is Rosie in her stroller … ”

  Tom chuckled and scooped a spoonful of blended food, feeding it to Rosie. The baby polished off her bowl by the time her chatty brother finished describing his picture.

  The initial, uncomfortable expression on Olivia’s face had changed to amusement. She wrapped her arm around Milo and said, “Very creative.”

  Tom patted Milo’s chair. “Eat now. Your dinner is getting cold.”

  The boy kissed Olivia’s cheek before sliding into his seat. She smiled and smoothed his hair.

  Holding a bottle of red wine over her glass, Tom paused. “Hmm, Gregory didn’t mention if your condition would worsen with the consumption of alcohol.”

  She raised her glass toward the bottle. “Please pour, I could use it.”

  Tom smiled and tilted the bottle until red liquid filled her glass. “One drink at dinner won’t hurt.”

  Dinner continued with its usual pace and Milo’s ceaseless chatting, trying to engage Olivia in a knock-knock joke she didn’t quite get, but chuckled all the same.

  Tom stacked her empty bowl with his. “I’m glad you liked my stew.”

  With a sigh, Olivia leaned back in her chair and patted her stomach. “Do you always eat such rich dinners? I meant to hit the gym later but in all of this craziness, I forgot.”

  “You work out in the mornings. There’s a rec room in the basement.” Tom carried a stack of dirty dishes to the sink.

  Olivia’s hurried steps followed him across tiled floor. “I’ll take care of the kitchen if you put the kids to bed.”

  He surveyed the counters. Baby food splattered the front and inside of the microwave. A block of parmesan cheese rested on the grater. Dirty pots and pans waited in the sink. Clean dishes needed to be unloaded from the dishwasher.

  “Putting them to bed was always your duty. I come in later for a goodnight kiss and read a story to Milo. But if you’re not up to it tonight, you can clean this mess.” He should feel guilty for not doing the cleaning, but by offering to help, Olivia showed interest in being a part of the family and he didn’t want to stop her.

  Half an hour later, Tom tiptoed out of Milo’s room, relieved his son had not complained much about his dad putting him to bed. Tom smiled at his sleeping child and pulled the door half closed.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he treaded across the carpeted stairs toward his study. It had been quite a day and fatigue crept over him, but he needed to go over his opening statement one more time. He peered through the glass door. A dim light above the stove illuminated a now clean kitchen. The way Olivia liked it. The still and quiet house suited his racing mind. Olivia must have retired, too.

  He continued to the den, doubling as his home office. At the pull of the string on the desk lamp, soft light washed the small room. Plopping himself on the black leather couch, he raised the stack of papers to his face, but couldn’t concentrate on the task at hand.

  Olivia’s alternative life theory wouldn’t leave him. Her appearance was the same. And so was her sexy aura and her poise. The door to his study opened and he snapped his gaze from the blurry words on the page. Olivia stood in the doorframe. Her sheer nightie clung to her like a second skin. In an instant, he hardened.

  She approached with slow steps, a mischievous smile gracing her lips and unmistakable hunger in her eyes. She straddled him and slid the papers from his hands. “This can wait.”

  Need reflected in her sultry voice as well as her kiss.

  “I want you, Tom.” She locked her lips with his, her tongue working magic on him.

  Powerless to her passion, Tom welcomed her advances, but his mind screamed at him to stop her from coming on too strong. It was easy to shed the clothes and have sex. Hell, he’d done it in the past. Hadn’t he taught her that opening her heart and soul to him meant being truly naked? He’d accept nothing less than love. With great difficulty, he cupped her head and pushed her back. Her lips were red and puffy from hard kissing. Confusion flashed in her glossy eyes and her breath caught.

  “Are you still pretending to be my wife?”

  She sat straight and frowned, then shrugged. “I guess.”

  Her nonchalant tone was like a cold shower and he sat up, too, dislodging her from his lap. “Go to bed, Olivia. I’ve got lots of work to do.”

  “What’s wrong? You gave me such a wonderful kiss in the garage. I couldn’t get it off my mind. I thought this is what you wanted.” She wrapped her arms around her chest, hiding her erect nipples from his view.

  Tom stood up and rubbed his hands over her bare arms. “I do, only I prefer love over lust. I refused you for the same reason the very first time in the university.”

  Her face crumpled and Olivia turned away from him.

  He cupped her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. Confusion etched in her expression and she seemed embarrassed by her actions. For the first time, a sense of loss pressed on his shoulders. Had he truly lost his wife? Yes, he desired Olivia in his arms, but carnal pleasure would never be enough for him. He wanted more. “Don’t feel ashamed. I promise you, I’ll make you burn for me long before you have me.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Tom’s arm wrapped around Olivia’s waist and her breasts pressed against his rock hard chest, but cold shivers raked her spine all the same. His words rang in her mind. He’d make her burn for him. Though his whisper stirred butterflies in her stomach, she tensed and she couldn’t shake off the feeling he’d meant it as her punishment for coming on too strong. Could he be one of those guys who liked his woman submissive? If so, she would welcome the change in the bedroom. The guys she’d slept with in the past had proved to be all words, but when it came to action, they were spineless or had some weird fetish. Tom struck her as a man who would work her up and take care of her needs before he found satisfaction. Maybe she would finally get to live up her fantasies. Was it too much to ask for a man who would be bold enough to take her and have his way with her?

  The mere thought set her skin tingling and coaxed a moan from her. She looped her arms around his neck. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

  “Let me give you a small demonstration.” Cradling her head in his hand, his lips seized hers while his tongue ignited fireworks.

  She rubbed her hips on his. He must’ve been joking when he’d uttered his threat. His hardness pushed against her. She arched as ecstasy tightened her abdomen. Tom’s embrace was balm on her lon
ely soul. Nibbling her lower lip, he eased the kiss. She moved her lips to his cheek, getting tickled by the stubble. “If this is punishment, bring it on.”

  He pulled back, unhooked her arms and swiped his hand across his lips and cheek. “Good night, Olivia.” His husky whisper didn’t quite match his fierce expression.

  She shook her head and huffed. How she wanted to bury her hands in his warm brown hair and explore his tantalizing body. Instead, she slid one finger down the sky blue material on his chest. “Come on, Tom. You wouldn’t leave me like this.”

  Fire burned in his honey brown eyes, but his predatory look faded. He placed an arm around her shoulders and ushered her from the office.

  “Those were your exact words on our first date. Seems we’ll both be reliving that night.” His voice strained as if he were fighting his desire.

  Her hopes rose when he cupped her cheeks in his hands and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Sweet dreams.”

  He closed the door, leaving her gaping in the dim hallway. The nightlight cast long shadows over the walls. Every nerve in her body clamored for his touch. Not counting the neighbor with a strange obsession with married women, this had to be the first time a man refused her. How dare he deny her what she craved? Her, a god’s gift to men. Yeah, she could seduce any straight guy and there were plenty of fish in the sea.

  But she wanted him.

  She banged on the door. “Damn you, Tom.”

  Muffled male chuckles sounded through the thin wood. Lips pressed and fist in the air, Olivia was prepared to pound harder. When had she become so needy? Defeated, she lowered her hand and dragged her feet back to her room. Her fury dissipated with every step. There was a time for everything and if tonight wasn’t the night she’d spend in Tom’s arms, the day would come. If the “little demonstration” he’d given her was an indication of the kind of pleasure she would experience, she’d wait an eternity.

  She paced the floor. Carpet fibers at the foot of the bed soothed her soles. A strange nagging deep in her guts warned her perhaps she’d crossed some invisible boundary. In all honesty, she should get to know him better before jumping in bed with him. Although to really know a man before getting physical with him rated low on her priority list, and in the past she never bothered to find out more than basic info about her dates. Understandable. By the next morning, she never wanted to see them again. Instead of whining about it, why not treat men like dirt?