by Joan Hohl
“Yes, you can,” he murmured, barely moving his lips from hers. “And very well, too.”
To prove his point, he proceded to show her his idea of her position, which was flat on her back, him on top of her, right there in the middle of the living room floor.
Within moments boots, jeans and underwear were gone. Although she protested, her protests were weak, and so was she—weak with her need for him.
His mouth devoured hers, his hands gripping her hips—she fully expected him to ram into her. Then, something incredible happened. Instead of taking her with the passionate force she’d become accustomed to, Marsh entered her body with exquisite gentleness, slowly, as if savoring every movement until he was fully, deeply inside her, filling the emptiness she’d been denying she felt.
“Home.”
His voice was so low, Jen wasn’t certain she’d heard him correctly.
He began to move and within seconds she was moaning, moving with his increased thrusts, craving more and more of him, enough to last her a lifetime.
It was more intense than ever before, her release wildly shattering. Tears filling her eyes, she drew deep breaths, reminding herself of what she had to do.
They lay side by side, naked from the waist down. As her breathing returned to normal, Jen steeled herself to speak.
Marsh beat her to it. “I really didn’t think it was possible to reach such intense sexual pleasure, the absolute zenith of orgasms.”
The tears, stinging hot, overflowed Jen’s eyes to roll down her temples into her hair. “Marsh.” Her nails dug into the plush nap of the carpet. “I came here today to get my stuff…to tell you I can’t stay with you, that I…”
Feeling him grow still beside her, she broke off.
“What?” His voice was soft but rough-edged. “Say it, Jennifer. Say whatever it is you have to say.”
Ignoring the spill of tears on her face, she turned her head to look at him, and immediately wished she hadn’t.
His silvery eyes glittering, he held her misty gaze. Were there tears in his eyes? She couldn’t tell, because he got to his feet fast, in one fluid movement. Scooping his clothes and boots from the floor, he turned and strode to the door.
“I’m going to clean up,” he said, his voice tight. “We’ll talk about this when I get back.” Not bothering to wait for a reply, he walked out, leaving the door wide-open behind him.
Rising, Jen was not nearly as fluid as Marsh had been.
She was still shaking with the aftershocks of the intensity of pleasure rippling through her body, and the pain in her heart.
She had come here determined to break off the untenable relationship she had been sharing with Marsh. Instead, she had betrayed herself by surrendering at his first kiss.
Gathering her clothing and boots while trying to pull her composure together, Jen headed for the bathroom. Positive Marsh would not be gone for long, she pulled her clothes back on and tried to get herself together.
Jen was brushing her hair when Marsh strolled back into the apartment and without hesitation opened the bathroom door and stood there, simply watching her.
Jen considered a protest then rejected the idea…it would simply be a waste of her breath. Setting aside the brush, she walked past him into the living room. Turning, she stood tall, placed her hands on her hips and stared back at him in open defiance.
“So. You’re going to run, from me and what we’ve got together?” His voice roughened. “What we’ve just shared together?”
“Sex,” Jen retorted, wincing inside at his accusation that she was going to run. Again. But this was different, she insisted in silent despair. This was for the rest of her life, not just to escape an uncomfortable situation. She wanted to stay so much, too much, but…
The sound of his voice scattered her jumbled thoughts.
“Fantastic sex,” he corrected her, his voice beginning to sound strained. “But we’ve got more than that and you know it.”
Jen was shaking her head before he’d finished. “It’s not enough, Marsh.”
“What the hell more do you want?” he said. “We enjoy the same things. We enjoy each other. You said you love it here at the house. What else is there?”
Jen sighed and drew a quick breath before calmly answering. “Love.”
She watched Marsh take in what she’d said, and she saw something cross his face. For a moment, she allowed herself to hope, but his words made it clear that she was foolish to do so.
“We could make it work,” he said, his tone strange, unfamiliar. “It’s been done before, a marriage without love.”
Jen’s spine stiffened. So she was right. He didn’t love her. He didn’t love her at all.
“I don’t believe I could do it,” she said, forcing herself to continue on. “When I marry, I want to spend my days and nights working and sleeping beside a man I’m in love with, knowing he loves me, too.”
She waited, hoping against hope that she’d been wrong, that he would tell her that he loved her more than she could know. But that’s not what he said.
“I see.” Shaking his head, his expression blank, he turned and walked to the door, pausing to glance back at her. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” That said, he pulled open the door and walked out of the room.
And out of her life.
The realization was crushing. Standing rigidly still, afraid if she moved she would fall apart, Jen gasped for air, hurting so badly she wanted to drop to the floor and sob until the pain eased.
But she didn’t drop to the floor, nor issue one sob. She brushed away tears with an impatient swipe of her hand.
She loved him, deeply, passionately, but she had no intentions of falling apart for him. She wasn’t the type for drama—she was the type that carried on under difficult conditions.
She’d survive, Jen assured herself, beginning to gather her things together. A large shopping bag she had brought with her from home contained the shirt belonging to Marsh. Sighing, she reached into the bag to stroke the material. Tempted to take it with her, she pulled her hand back.
“You’re a fool, Marshall Grainger,” she muttered. “We could have built a wonderful, loving relationship and made beautiful children together.”
Though soft, the sound of her own voice startled her. The word children rang in her mind. Once again she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. She shook her head. It’s over, she told herself. Get on with your life.
* * *
The explanation Jen offered her parents for her return home was that she missed her friends and the activities in Dallas. Of course, it was far from the truth. Although Jen dearly loved her friends, they were often in touch, and Jen had never wanted to be involved with any activity in the city.
To her mother’s vocal dismay, Jen was at heart a homebody. She stayed in, spending her time with Tony and Ida, cooking and keeping the house neat. A pang twisted in her chest as she recalled working in Marsh’s beautiful home.
Jen spent time on her computer perusing help-wanted sites. But she wasn’t looking for work. She was looking for possible postings by Marsh.
None appeared, which Jen found rather strange. Perhaps he had decided to advertise in local newspapers, she thought.
Thanksgiving came and went. Her parents went, too, setting out on a monthlong cruise. Jen threw herself into her long-held tradition of decorating the large house for Christmas with Tony and Ida. Only at weak moments did she wonder if Marsh ever bothered to decorate his house for the coming holiday.
When the house was finished, sparkling with gold and silver decorations, Jen set about shopping. She started with gifts for Tony and Ida. Then she shopped for her parents—never an easy chore as both were very particular. Yet all the while as she browsed the stores, Jen caught herself pausing to inspect an item she just knew would be perfect for Marsh.
So much for putting him out of her mind.
The most fun Jen had shopping was when she was buying gifts for her gang. They h
ad a rule about price—no expensive gifts allowed. The idea was to find tokens of affection, not ostentatious things to impress or display.
The week before Christmas the six of them got together for lunch, and to exchange the presents. There were a lot of oohs and aahs. But as soon as the gift giving was over, and the wineglasses refilled, the interrogation began.
“What made you quit your job with Marshall Grainger?”
Jen sat quietly a moment, wondering what to say, what excuse to make up. Glancing around the table and seeing concern in each one of their faces, Jen knew only the truth would do.
“I love him,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.
There was a collective gasp, and then her friends all reached out to her at once. The love and support she felt from them was overwhelming.
“What’s the problem?” Kathie asked.
“He doesn’t love me.”
Everyone started to protest at once.
“Please.” Jen held up a palm, blinking away the tears. “I really don’t want to talk about it.” Up until her blurted confession the atmosphere had been festive, happy. “This isn’t the time or place.”
“You never want to talk about it when you have strong feelings,” Mary said.
“Which is fine,” Karen insisted. “But just know that you deserve happiness, and you deserve love, and if you think Marsh is the one for you, then you have to get over your fear and tell him.”
Jen was stunned into silence by her friend’s speech. As a favor to her, they agreed to change the subject. But when they parted company a short time later, exchanging good wishes for the holidays and thanks for the gifts, they reminded her of what they had said.
More than a bit depressed, and feeling guilty for putting a damper on their holiday lunch, Jen drove straight home. Pulling into the driveway, she was startled to see Marsh’s black Lincoln in front of the house. She could see he was in the car and felt a thrill when he turned to look at her.
She drove past him to the garage at the back of the house. She heard the purr of the Lincoln pull up next to where she’d stopped.
She got out of the car, turning to face him when he came to a halt beside her car. He was holding a plastic grocery bag in one hand and he held it aloft.
“I brought you something.”
Considering the season, she naturally assumed it was a gift. “I wish you wouldn’t have,” she said. “I have nothing to give you—”
“It’s not a Christmas gift,” he said, setting her mind at ease. “It belongs to you.”
“Oh.”
“You might invite me inside.”
Jen hesitated.
“For a few minutes?” His voice held a strange note. Was it a hint of pleading? Jen dismissed the very idea.
“All right, come in.” Her key card at the ready, Jen slid it along the slot. The elevator glided open and she stepped inside the car, Marsh at her heels.
“Convenient,” he said, teasing her. She couldn’t help but smile at his use of the very word she’d used to describe the entrance to his apartment after the gala that night. She loved how Marsh remembered everything she said, down to the last detail.
“It goes to my late grandmother’s apartment.” The door slid open and Jen stepped inside, Marsh beside her.
“Yours now?” he asked, glancing around the room.
“Yes.” Seeing him, being so close to him, made Jen feel teary again. The last thing she wanted was to have him see her crying. “You have something of mine?”
“Yes.” He handed her the bag.
Frowning, Jen reached inside and withdrew a tissue-wrapped bundle. She unwrapped it to find the shawl she had worn to the Halloween ball. She hadn’t even missed it.
“Thank you,” she said, unconsciously stroking the soft material.
“You left it in my car after the gala.”
Reminded of the night they had spent together, she suddenly wanted him to leave as she could feel her composure crumbling. Being around Marsh was nearly impossible.
Her friends’ words rang in her ears. Should she—could she—tell him the truth?
He hesitated, drew a breath as if unsure of himself, then quickly said, “I do have a gift for you, if you’ll accept it.”
Jen didn’t understand. He held nothing in his hands. “What is it?”
He took a hesitant step toward her. “It’s my heart. And it’s wrapped in my love for you, if you’ll have it.” He took another step and then another until he was mere inches from her seemingly frozen body.
Jen stared at him, unable to believe he had said what she had heard. “Marsh…”
“I know you don’t love me.” He swallowed as if it caused him pain. “And I know I declared years ago that I didn’t believe in love.” Raising his hands, he cradled her face with his palms. “I’ve been such an ass. I knew from the beginning that I wanted you.” To her amazement, his eyes grew misty, only this time it wasn’t her imagination. There were real tears there. “I just didn’t realize why I wanted you so very much.”
Tears now flowing from her eyes, Jen could barely speak. “Marsh, wait—”
“No.” He cut her off with a shake of his head. “Let me finish. The simple truth of the answer hit me like a fist. I am so much in love with you and I don’t know how to tell you. I wanted it to be romantic for you, hoping you’d begin to return my love. But I’ve been emotionally dead for so long, I don’t know how—”
This time Jen cut him off. “Marshall Grainger, where on earth did you get the idea that I don’t love you?”
He looked at her hard for a few moments. His mouth opened, but no words came out at first. “You…you do love me?”
Jen nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. “If you don’t kiss me right now, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
His intense, silvery stare turned soft and warm. “What actions?” His voice was low, almost desperate with the sound of hope.
Jen smiled. “I was thinking about showing you how very much I love you. I love you, Marsh. I have for a while now.”
Claiming her mouth with his, he swept her up into his arms. When they finally came up for air, he whispered, “Which way to the bedroom?”
* * *
Several hours later, Marsh stowed Jen’s suitcase in his car, slid behind the wheel and started the motor. Glancing at her, he asked, “Ready to go home?”
Jen smiled. “I’m ready to go anywhere with you.”
He set the car into motion, satisfied that they would soon be putting his ideas for their future into motion.
Settling into the warmed butter-soft leather seat, Jen pondered the past several hours. She still could barely believe Marsh had come to her, baring his soul while confessing his love for her.
She wanted to kick herself for all the time she had wasted being miserable away from him. All that misery could have been avoided had she just told him the truth the last time she had been to the house.
Well, the misery was now over. Marsh loved her, and Jen luxuriated in the very thought of his love.
Even so, she had remembered to take care of business, so to speak. Buzzing the kitchen phone, she had told Tony not to fuss for dinner as she would be leaving for Marsh’s house within a few hours.
“I figured,” the unflappable Tony replied. “I saw his car in the driveway. What about your parents?” he asked. “You remember they’ll be home on the twenty-second for the holidays?”
“Yes, I remember,” Jen said. “I’ll be calling them with the news.”
“News?” Ida, obviously listening in on one of the other extensions, asked. “There will be news?”
“Wonderful news,” Jen said. “And that’s all I’m saying at this time.”
It was late when they arrived at Marsh’s place. Stepping from the car, Jen gazed at the house, emotion tightening her throat. Home. Her glance at the tall man lifting her case from the car sent a wave of sheer contentment through her. No, she thought, as much as she loved the house, Mars
h was home to her.
Not aware of him watching her, Jen started when he asked, “What are you thinking about?”
“How very much I love you,” she answered without hesitation. A teasing smile feathered her lips. “And that I’d happily live in an empty refrigerator box under a bridge somewhere as long as you were there with me.”
Though Marsh laughed, he dropped her case with a thud and strode to draw her into his arms. “While I seriously doubt that will ever be necessary, I’m both humbled and grateful to hear you say it.”
If there had been so much as a tiny question in Jen’s mind about Marsh’s declaration of love for her, hearing him admit to being humbled erased it forever.
Spearing her fingers into his hair, she thanked him with a searing kiss. Naturally, one kiss led to another, and then another, all the way into the house and up the stairs to his bedroom.
Physically and emotionally exhausted, they fell asleep still wrapped in each other’s arms to sleep most of the next day away.
* * *
Over breakfast at seven that evening, dressed in Marsh’s luxurious robe at his request, Jen listened to his suggestions for the holidays—and for planning their wedding.
First on his list was shopping for Jen. Then calling a friend of his…who just happened to be a judge.
They left early the next morning for San Antonio. Once in the city, they went their separate ways, agreeing to meet for lunch at the same restaurant along the River Walk where they had dined the previous time they had been there.
Excited about her venture, Jen went looking for the perfect wedding dress. Two hours into her search she found it. In what the saleslady referred to as “barely white,” the dress was dressy but not formal. The filmy material clung to her upper body while the slightly flared skirt swirled around her legs just below her knees.
Her major purchase made, Jen set about looking for the perfect accessories. She decided on black pumps with three-inch heels along with a black clutch purse with a gold tone clasp. She chose a black pearl necklace with a matching bracelet and teardrop earrings.
The last—and to Jen the most important—purchase she made was a Christmas gift for Marsh. Delighted with her choices, she strolled along the River Walk to the restaurant. Marsh was waiting for her next to the entrance, a bemused smile on his face in response to her self-satisfied expression.
