by Judy Duarte
She wanted to say something, to babble her happiness, but she kept quiet, waiting. Waiting to hear the words she wanted him to say.
But his cell phone rang, interrupting their conversation. He flipped open the lid and spoke. “Anderson. Hey, Mary. What’s up?”
Was Mary a co-worker?
The fact that she might not be echoed in Juliet’s ears and thudded around in her chest.
“Sure. I’ve got a copy stored in my laptop, back at the inn. I can e-mail it as an attachment.”
She blew out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The call was definitely work related.
“No problem.” Mark disconnected the line, then placed the cell phone on the dinette table and opened the Ranch View Estates brochure.
“You were right about those houses,” he said. “They’re nice and the floor plans are roomy. And since I need a write-off, I think I’ll buy one, which ought to make my accountant happy.”
It would make Juliet happy, too. After all, it looked as though Mark had decided to make Thunder Canyon his base. And that meant, even if he had to travel on assignments, he would always come back home, and she’d get to see him again.
“Which model do you like?”
He wanted her opinion on the house? Was that because he wanted her to live with him? To marry him?
She had no idea, but even if he’d just contemplated the possibility that they might have a future together, it was a step in the right direction.
Trying not to let her optimism run amok, she said, “I like them all.”
He pointed to a floor plan of the Sedona. “This one is a bit bigger than I wanted, but it ought to work.”
Ought to work for what?
Before she could respond, his phone rang again.
“Hello.” He frowned. “Right now? What’s his rush?”
She bit her bottom lip, wishing they could get back to the discussion of the house.
“All right. But give me a few minutes to get back to my room.” He disconnected the line and set the cell phone on the table. “Listen, Juliet, I need to send a file to my boss. Maybe we can go look at the houses together this weekend. Then, if I put a down payment on one, we can celebrate by having dinner at Sebastian’s Steak House.”
“Sure.” She walked him to the door, afraid to dream, to believe. After all, he hadn’t said anything about love. Or marriage. But he’d definitely decided to stay in Thunder Canyon—or at least establish residency here.
She couldn’t wipe the silly grin from her face or the song from her heart.
Maybe she should be the one to mention love first. After all, Mark might need a little encouragement—a gentle push that would have him admit falling in love with her, just as deeply as she had with him.
An hour later, while Juliet nursed Marissa, Mark’s cell phone rang and rumbled on the dinette table, where it sat next to the Ranch View Estates brochure.
She wondered whether he’d realized he’d left it here. And if not, whether the call was important.
He hadn’t invited her to his room across the street, and although she’d always wanted to see the inside of the hotel that had once been owned by The Shady Lady, she hadn’t pressed for an invitation. When it came to men, Juliet had never been pushy.
But she had an excuse to visit now.
And if the opportunity arose, she would be honest about her feelings so he’d feel better about expressing his. And maybe, if things worked out the way she wanted them to, she could talk him into moving back to her apartment until the new house was ready.
Hope, which had always been something she’d latched on to, reared like a mystical, white stallion.
She went to the closet and pulled out the secondhand stroller. Then she carefully placed Marissa in the bed and used two rolled receiving blankets to support her comfortably. Then she knelt and placed a kiss on the baby’s cheek.
“I’ll wheel you into the bathroom, pumpkin. Mama’s going to freshen up, then we’re going bye-bye.”
Twenty minutes later, Juliet pushed the stroller around the side of the building, to the front of The Hitching Post and across the street.
The Wander-On Inn had been refurbished over the years, but it still maintained the charm of the other false-fronted buildings in Old Town. She’d heard it was more like a bed-and-breakfast than a hotel.
She entered the lobby, a small, cozy room with a couple of leather sofas, a fireplace and a decorator piece of carpet lying on top of hardwood floors. She made her way to the front desk, where a tall, lanky man with dark hair worked behind a computer screen.
When the clerk glanced up, Juliet said, “I’d like to see Mark Anderson. He’s staying here.”
“Just a moment, while I check to see if he’s in.”
“Thank you.” She fiddled with the narrow strap of her shoulder bag. Maybe she should have called first. If Mark was out on another interview, she’d have to head back home.
“Mr. Anderson?” the man said into a house phone. “There’s a lady with a baby here to see you.”
“All right.” The hotel clerk smiled at Juliet. “He’s in suite 104, which is right through that doorway, the last room on the right. You won’t have to take the stairs.”
Juliet flashed him an appreciative grin. “Thank you.” Then she wheeled the baby down the carpeted hall.
Before she had a chance to knock, Mark opened the door. He wore the same khaki slacks and black sweater that he’d had on before, but he’d kicked off his shoes. For a woman who’d been interested in looking over the hotel, she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off the man who stood before her.
“This is a pleasant surprise.” His crooked grin warmed her inside and out, making her feel giddy and awkward at the same time.
A lock of his hair had tumbled onto his forehead, tempting Juliet to brush it aside.
Or did she just want an excuse to touch him?
She handed him the cell phone. “You left this at the apartment, and I wanted to return it to you, especially since you received at least one call that I know of.”
“Thanks.” He took the phone, then opened the door to let her and the sleeping baby into his room. “This is a first.”
It was, she supposed. She’d never been bold enough to visit a man at work or at home. Erik had placed a lot of boundaries on their relationship, something that, in her naiveté, she hadn’t questioned.
She scanned the small interior, realizing she’d entered a sitting room. “I didn’t know the old hotel had suites.”
“Originally, it didn’t. But during the last remodel, the owner took two rooms and created this one. Depending upon the guest, they refer to it as either the bridal or presidential suite.” He shrugged, eyes crinkling, a grin tugging his lips. “The company travel coordinator passed me off as a dignitary of some kind, so I got lucky. I can give you the grand tour, if you want to see it.”
“Actually, I’d love to.” She glanced at Marissa, saw her sleeping soundly and parked the stroller near the sofa. “From what I’ve been told, most of the hotel rooms have an old photograph or piece of furniture that has some history behind it.”
“Maybe so,” he said, “but I haven’t found anything noteworthy in here.”
She looked at the desk, where his laptop was connected to the Internet via the telephone. A take-out menu sat beside it, a brown smudge marring the print. The newspaper rested on the coffee table, next to a candy bar wrapper and a half-eaten bag of pistachios.
“I guess you could call this my office. Come on, I’ll show you where I kick back and relax.” He led her into the sleeping area.
Her eyes immediately lit on a blue-and-yellow spread that matched the drapes. It was a bit rumpled, and she could see the indentation his head had left on the pillow. He must have been kicking back before she knocked.
“Did I come at a bad time?” she asked.
“Not at all. I’m glad you’re here.”
So was she. Just being with him in his room, so close t
o the bed where he’d recently lain, was a bit heady. Exciting.
He tossed her a smile that tumbled around in her heart, stirring up all kinds of feelings—attraction and desire, to name two—and provoking a pressing urge to tell him she’d missed not having him sleeping at her place.
They stood there for a while, awareness growing. Hearts beating. That lazy shank of hair calling to her.
She reached up and bushed it aside, her fingers lingering a bit longer than necessary. Their eyes locked, and she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. She was too caught up in whatever swirled around them—pheromones, desire. Sexual curiosity.
Surely, Mark felt it, too.
He reached out and stroked her hair, letting the strands sift through his fingers.
Her heart pounded in anticipation, waiting for him to make a move while contemplating making one of her own.
“It’s been a week,” he said, reminding her that the doctor had said sex was okay.
“I know.”
“We were going to think about…some things.”
“I haven’t thought of much else,” she admitted.
Was that making the first move?
His lips quirked into a crooked smile, then he bent to give her a kiss.
She lifted her arms, wrapping them around his neck, and leaned into his embrace. The kiss deepened, and she thought she’d die from want of him. From want of his love.
As tongues sparred and mated, she closed her eyes, oblivious to anyone or anything than this man who touched her in such a sensual way and held her heart in his hands.
Mark didn’t want the kiss to end, didn’t want to put a stop to the blood rushing in his veins. He relished the lady in his arms, each touch, each soft whimper.
No woman had ever moved him like this, provoking him to make love with a slow hand and a gentle touch, to prolong the pleasure for as long as he could hold out, making sure she enjoyed each moment in his arms, in his bed.
He wanted her. Badly. And with reluctance, he withdrew his lips—but not his embrace—and rested his forehead against hers. “I want more than your kiss, Juliet.”
“I want that, too.”
His heart thumped into his throat, and he tilted her chin and kissed her again. His tongue swept the inside of her warm, willing mouth—seeking, exploring, savoring, demanding. He caressed the gentle slope of her back, the curves of her hips, then cupped her bottom and pulled her against his demanding erection.
Their first time together should be special, but all he could think of was losing himself in her, which both scared and excited him.
He nuzzled her neck, placing open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and throat. At the same time, he slid his hand under her yellow cotton top, felt the warmth of her skin, the silky softness. His fingers slid along her ribs, finding her bra and the fullness of her breasts. “Is it all right if I touch you here?”
“You can touch me anywhere you like,” she said, her voice edged with the husky tone of passion.
He fumbled with the buttons of her blouse, then slid the fabric over her shoulders, removing it and revealing a white cotton bra. It wasn’t one of those slinky, little ones made of flimsy lace and silky cups meant to arouse a man beyond measure, but seeing her breasts nearly bare and that sweet anticipation in her eyes, nearly knocked him to his knees.
She was offering him a gift, something a man like him didn’t deserve but couldn’t refuse. “You’re beautiful, Juliet.”
“You don’t have to say that.” Her hands slipped to the slight bulge of her tummy. It had gone down significantly over the past few weeks—not that he cared whether it had or hadn’t.
“I’m five or ten pounds heavier than I used to be,” she said. “And I’ve got stretch marks, too.”
He knelt before her, caressed her belly and placed a kiss near her navel. Then he gazed up at her. “Childbirth and motherhood have only made you more womanly, more appealing.”
Juliet closed her eyes, relishing the words Mark said, the sweet kiss he’d pressed on her tummy.
As his sensual praise chased away self-consciousness and doubt, she pulled his shirttail from his pants, trying her best to undo the buttons. She wanted him naked, wanted to feel him skin to skin, wanted to feel him inside of her.
Before long, they stood before each other, partially clothed and fully aroused. He kissed her cheek. “I’ve got a condom in my shaving kit.”
She smiled. “Get it, while I turn down the covers of the bed.”
She went to the sitting room and took a quick peek at her daughter, who continued to sleep soundly, unaware of the step her mother and the man who had helped bring her into the world would take, a step Juliet was eager to make.
When she returned to the bedroom, Mark stood by the bed, the spread folded down, a foil packet in his hand. She smiled and made her way to the man she loved.
Did he know how badly she wanted to give him her body, heart and soul?
Mark cupped Juliet’s cheeks in his hands. Passion smoldered in her gaze, matching his own, he suspected. “I want this to be good for you.”
“It’s already been better than I’d ever imagined.” Then she stepped out of her shoes and unzipped her pants.
He watched as she bared herself to him, and something stirred deep within him, something he had never experienced before. Something he didn’t dare contemplate now.
She stood before him, naked, lovely, flushed with passion and desire, yet appearing to battle shyness.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked.
“Love me, Mark.”
Her simple request was his undoing. He wanted to make love to her more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life.
Juliet watched as Mark undressed. He probably suspected she’d only been requesting sex. And she had been. But there was so much more to her words. She loved Mark deeply and wanted him to love her back.
He tore into the foil packet, protecting them, then took her mouth, his hunger not sated in the least, and drew her to the bed.
All right. So he hadn’t said the words, hadn’t pronounced his love. She’d be content with that.
For now.
If she only had this once, this afternoon, to make love with him, then she intended to give him all she had, and to take whatever he had to offer.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered. “So I’ll try to be gentle.”
She nodded, trusting him like she had no other.
He entered her, slowly at first. And it hurt briefly, but the urge to feel him inside of her was too great to care. She arched against him, drawing him deeper. The initial discomfort was surpassed by pleasure and fulfillment as he moved, giving, taking, driving her to the brink of some precipice she’d never before reached.
Her heart sang, as her body responded to each touch, each kiss, each thrust.
The loving rhythm built into a powerful rush, a crescendo that made them one, taking them to paradise and beyond. As they peaked together, a star-spinning climax burst across her vision, touching her heart and soul.
She’d read about orgasms and wondered why she’d never experienced one before, but now she knew. She’d never made love like this—not with a man she truly adored. So she held on to each wave of pleasure, wanting to keep him inside of her forever.
When their sweet joining was over, the loving didn’t stop.
Unlike Marissa’s father, Mark continued to hold her, murmuring how sweet she was, how beautiful.
An I-love-you could come later, she supposed. As it was, she would bask in the afterglow of what they’d just shared and pretend that he’d said the words she longed to hear. That he’d committed to more than a one-time sexual fling.
As they lay in each other’s arms, bodies glistening and the scent of their lovemaking lingering in the air, she was afraid to move, to speak. Afraid to break the magical spell that bound them together forever. Afraid to quell the sense of family and rightness that she’d been missing for what seemed like ages.
&nb
sp; The ensuing silence grew heavy.
Over and again, words of love struggled to break free, but she bit them back for fear he wasn’t ready to hear them yet. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t listening, waiting for him to share his thoughts about the future.
Mark, his passion spent and still reeling in the power of his release, felt the urge to say something, although he didn’t know what. He was too afraid they’d have to discuss the turn their relationship had taken. And the fact that he’d be moving on to another assignment one day soon.
But he couldn’t deny how good their lovemaking had been. How special. How unforgettable. And although he’d suspected she’d been just as caught up in the heat as he’d been, he needed to know for sure.
He rolled to the side, taking her with him, then ran a hand along the contour of her hip. “I hope that was something you’d walk across the room for.”
She smiled. “I’d run a marathon for it.”
“It’ll be better next time.” He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “I promise.”
“Oh, yeah?” She brightened. “I’ll have to hold you to it.”
He liked the sound of that, the promise of another afternoon in Juliet’s arms. And he hoped that she realized their sexual relationship, no matter how special, was just temporary. Mark didn’t make commitments and promises he couldn’t keep—although he had to admit, this was the first time he’d suffered even a pang of regret that he didn’t.
“By the way,” he said. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you. But I’d like for you and Marissa to live in the house I’m going to buy.”
“You would?” Her eyes glimmered, brighter still, and he could understand why. She’d probably give her right arm to move out of that rundown apartment over The Hitching Post.
“And you don’t have to worry about rent,” he added. “I’ll need someone to look after the place, since I’ll be gone most of the time.”
Had the flicker in her eyes died down?
Maybe it was only the afternoon shadows that darkened the hotel room.
“So what do you say?” he asked.
Juliet pondered his question before responding. Something told her that she and Mark hadn’t placed the same value on their relationship. It made her glad she’d held back the vows of love and forever she’d been tempted to utter during their lovemaking.
