Don’t think anymore, Emily told herself. Not now. She’d deal with all of this…later. She was just going to dance…with Mark.
Time lost meaning.
The music played on.
And they danced.
As Mark turned Emily to the waltz the band was now playing, she registered, rather foggily, the fact that her grandparents were sitting at the table where she and Mark had left Trevor a zillion years ago.
That’s nice, she thought dreamily. Trevor had someone to talk to while she was awash with desire for the man who was holding her so close to his body. Trevor could sit and chat with—
Emily stiffened, blinked, then came to such an abrupt halt that Mark stepped on her toe.
“My grandparents?” she said, looking up at Mark with wide eyes.
“What?” Mark said. He shook his head slightly to dispel the passion-laden mist that had consumed him, then frowned. “Who? Huh?”
“My grandparents are here,” Emily said. “They’re sitting at our table with Trevor. How long have we been gone from there? How many songs did we dance to? What time is it?”
“Emily, calm down,” Mark said, as the other couples on the floor danced around them. “What are you getting so upset about?”
“Think about it, Mark. Can you even imagine what our son, the matchmaker, is in the process of telling my grandparents at this very minute? We’ve been dancing forever, and you were holding me so close, and I had my head nestled on your shoulder…when did I do that?…and we must have looked like…like…”
Mark grinned. “Like what?”
“This is not funny,” she said, stepping out of his embrace.
“It’s not the end of the world, either. So…we danced. A lot. So…yes, okay, I held you close, very close, and it was wonderful.”
“Oh, I know, I know,” Emily said, staring into space with a smile on her lips. “It was heavenly, and I…” Her eyes widened again. “We’ve got to get back to that table and nip this in the bud.”
Emily marched from the dance floor with Mark following more slowly behind her.
Sensational, Mark thought, unable to curb his smile. Emily was all aflutter, with her hands doing their butterfly thing and her cheeks flushed such a pretty pink. She was off and running, determined to do damage control on Trevor’s matchmaking.
Trevor’s matchmaking, Mark’s mind echoed, as he slowed his step even more. What if it worked? What if it honest-to-goodness worked, and Emily fell back in love with him? Trevor might be enlisting the help of his great-grandparents in his scheme? Oh, go for it, son. The father in this scenario needed all the help he could get.
Was it possible?
Could it really happen?
He didn’t have a clue, but he sure as hell was going to do his part in what was unfolding here. And he was going to be paying very, very careful attention to what Emily said and did.
Was he setting himself up to be cut off at the knees again? Yes, there was a very good chance that was exactly what would happen. Emily had stopped loving him years ago. All the fancy matchmaking ever invented might not be able to rekindle love that was dead, cold and buried. Forgotten.
But if he didn’t declare his love to Emily, he at least wouldn’t look like a fool if Trevor’s matchmaking fizzled. He’d maintain his dignity. He had nothing to lose and there was a chance—albeit very, very remote—that he had everything to gain that he had ever wanted.
Game on, Mark thought, as he stopped at the table where the group was gathered.
“Good to see you, Mark, and haven’t you turned into a fine-looking man,” Robert MacAllister said, getting to his feet and shaking Mark’s hand. “I’ve been looking forward to this moment ever since Margaret told me you were vacationing in Ventura.”
“Cancel vacationing,” Trevor said. “Mark is going to live here permanently.”
“Oh?” Margaret and Robert said in unison, looking at Mark with obvious interest.
“Excuse me,” the waitress said, from behind Mark. “I have three desserts to deliver to hungry folks.”
Mark stepped out of her way, Robert sat back down, and dishes of ice cream were set in front of Margaret, Robert and Trevor.
“Trevor?” Emily said. “You ordered another dish of ice cream?”
“Gelato,” Trevor said, nodding. “A guy can never get enough gelato. I got hungry again sitting here while you and Mark danced to about fifty lame songs.”
“It wasn’t fifty,” Emily said. Or maybe it was. She had no idea at this point. “Well, I guess we could find another chair and all crowd in here while we wait for you to eat that.”
“That won’t be necessary, dear,” Margaret said pleasantly. “Robert and I suddenly had the urge to have some of this delicious ice cream, then joined Trevor when we saw him sitting here alone. We’d like Trevor to spend the night with us so he can help me rearrange my living-room furniture tomorrow. I’ll drive him to the community center when we’re finished.”
“You rearranged your living room last week,” Emily said, frowning.
“It’s out of balance,” Margaret said. “Every time I walk into that room I feel as though it’s going to tip over because there are too many of the bigger pieces of furniture on one side. It needs to be redone, and Trevor has graciously offered to assist me.”
“Yep, I did,” Trevor said, then took a big bite of ice cream.
“Grandpa,” Emily said, narrowing her eyes, “didn’t you lend a hand in arranging the lopsided room? As in, you could help fix it?”
“That’s true, sweetheart,” Robert said, “but I have a golf date. I’d be much too tired to lug furniture around after playing eighteen holes.”
“Since when?” Emily said. “The last time you played eighteen holes of golf you came home and took Grandma out to dinner and a movie.”
“At my age you have good days and bad days,” Robert said, then sighed dramatically. “I’m in the midst of a week of weary, weak days.”
“Oh, you are not,” Emily said.
“Yes, he is,” Margaret said quickly. “I had to go outside and get the newspaper from the walk this morning because your grandfather was too tired to make the trek. Bad days just sneak up on you at our age, dear.”
“Mmm,” Emily said.
“So, therefore,” Margaret said, “there’s no need for you and Mark to wait for Trevor—don’t eat so fast, Trevor, or you’ll get an ice-cream headache—to finish his dessert. You two just run along and Trevor will come home with us. Just remember to pick him up at the community center tomorrow afternoon because he won’t have his bike.”
“I’ll do the same swimming routine tomorrow that you put me through today, Mark,” Trevor said. “Bye, Mom. Bye, Mark. See you tomorrow.”
“Here’s your purse, Emily,” Margaret said, picking it up off the floor. “Good night.”
“It’s great to have you back in Ventura, Mark,” Robert said. “By the way, you look lovely this evening, Emily. Goodbye.”
Mark chuckled and Emily snapped her head around and glared at him as the sexy sound caused the now-familiar frisson of heat to slither down her spine.
“I believe we’ve been dismissed,” Mark said, then reached for the dinner check that was on the table. “Shall we go?”
“But…”
“Say good-night, Emily,” Mark said.
“Good night, Emily,” she said, a rather bemused expression on her face.
“Ta-ta, darlings,” Margaret said. “Now then, Trevor, tell us all about this swimming regimen that Mark has set up for you.”
Mark placed his hand in the middle of Emily’s back and steered her to the front of the restaurant. He paid the bill, then took her hand in his and led her from the building. It wasn’t until they were in the vehicle and driving in the busy traffic that she finally spoke again.
“They’re in on it,” she said, folding her arms over her breasts. “That’s what was going on in there. My grandparents came to the restaurant for ice cream, Trevor snagged
them and recruited them as part of his matchmaking scheme. I’m telling you, Mark, Margaret and Robert MacAllister are in ca-hoots with my…our son.”
Mark nodded. “I’d say that you’ve come to an accurate conclusion there, Ms. MacAllister. What a riot.”
“It’s not funny,” Emily said, nearly yelling.
“Sorry,” Mark said, cringing. “I just think it’s rather humorous myself.”
“No, it’s not. It’s terrible. Just awful.” Emily sighed. “Trevor wants a father so badly he’s rounding up the troops in an attempt to get one…you. It just breaks my heart because I didn’t know he felt so strongly about this.”
“Hey, take it easy,” Mark said. “Don’t start beating yourself up about this, Emily. Mark is going to get the father he wants…me. Everything is going to be fine once he adjusts to the facts, the…truth.”
“But he wants a storybook family, don’t you see? Papa bear, Mama bear and Baby bear, that sort of thing.”
Ditto, Mark thought.
“Well,” Emily went on, “some is better than none, I guess. Trevor getting the father that he has yearned for will, I hope, make it easier to put aside any anger he might feel when he finds out I’ve lied to him his entire life.
“‘Hey, kid, remember that angel-in-heaven-father I told you about? Well, guess what? He lost his wings, got booted out and here he is in the flesh…your dad.’ Oh, good grief, what a mess I’ve made of everything.”
“Emily, come on, cut it out. You did what you felt was right at the time.”
“And let’s remember how torqued you were when you found out what I did.”
“Okay, but I’ve cooled off now, understand that you made decisions with the best of intentions. In my opinion they were crummy choices, but…” He shrugged. “What’s done is done, and it’s going to be corrected. Everything will be just fine.”
“Mmm,” she said, frowning.
“Emily, please,” Mark said, glancing over at her, then redirecting his attention to the traffic, “don’t ruin what has been a terrific evening by getting upset. I had a great time tonight. Did you?”
“I…” Emily turned her head to look out the side window. “Yes. Yes, I did.” A rather terrifying, unsettling, confusing time but… “It was lovely, very…nice and…”
“Special,” Mark said quietly.
“And special,” she said softly.
They drove the remaining miles to Emily’s house in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
In Emily’s living room she snapped on a lamp, then turned to face Mark, aware that she was suddenly very nervous and uncomfortable.
This moment, she thought, was like the end of a real date, just like in the movies, or in one of the romance novels her mother wrote. She’d only been out on a few dates since Mark left Ventura so many years before. Darn it, she couldn’t remember what she was supposed to say now.
“I had a lovely time this evening, and I thank you very much,” Emily said, staring at a spot about two inches above Mark’s head.
“You’re welcome,” Mark said, standing in front of the closed door. “I enjoyed myself, too. Very much.”
“Right.” Emily nodded. “Well. So. I guess I’ll just say good night then. Would you be free to pick up Trevor at the community center tomorrow about four o’clock? I have a client coming in at four-thirty. Trevor will be fine here alone for an hour or so.”
Mark nodded. “Sure, no problem, but why don’t we all go out for hamburgers after you get home from work? Then you won’t have to cook after a long day at your office.”
“Okay. That’s dandy. Thank you,” she said, then wrapped her hands around her elbows. “So. Well. Um… Oh, good grief.”
“Emily,” Mark said, frowning, “am I making you nervous? Edgy? Upset? What? Give me a hint here.”
“Well, for Pete’s sake, Mark,” she said, none too quietly, “of course I’m a wreck. This is weird. I mean, this is like being brought home from an honest-to-goodness date, and I’m supposed to know what to say and do, and I don’t, because I don’t have oodles of experience doing this like you do, and I feel really, really dumb and unsophisticated, and that makes me mad…and sad at the same time, and…” She sniffled and shook her head.
Mark closed the distance between them and gripped Emily’s shoulders as she stared at the floor.
“Look at me.”
“No.”
“Emily, look…at…me.”
She raised her head slowly and Mark nearly groaned aloud when he saw the tears shimmering in her big, brown eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’m suffering from mental overload at the moment because so much has happened so quickly. I’m overreacting to being delivered home to my very own living room. I mean, what did I think you’d do? Leave me in the front yard? Ignore my foolishness, please, Mark, and just go. Try to erase from your memory bank the fact that I’m acting like a jerk.”
“You’re not a jerk. I think you’re acting like a woman who has centered her life on raising her son alone and establishing a career. A woman who hasn’t taken time for herself in a long while. There’s nothing foolish or jerky about that. That fact that you don’t play the singles game is endearing, very sweet, nice.”
“Dorky,” Emily said, then sniffled again.
“No, it’s not,” Mark said firmly. “Look, the rules are that you ask me if I’d like some coffee. I say no thank you, it would keep me awake. We already have our plans set up for tomorrow night so that’s covered. So, that only leaves one thing left to do.”
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Emily said. “Okay. Got it. Off we go to the door.”
“No, that’s not it. In my attempt to bring you up to snuff about the dating arena, I’ve used a method of show-and-tell. I’ve done the tell part. I’m moving right along to show now.”
Mark lowered his head toward Emily’s, slowly, very slowly.
Emily MacAllister, she mentally yelled at herself, run like hell! Mark, this Mark, the Mark of now, was about to kiss her and that was so dangerous it was scaring the bejeebers out of her. Emily? Are you listening to yourself? Don’t let this happen. No, no, no.
Mark’s mouth melted over Emily’s in a gentle kiss that intensified in the next instant as he parted her lips and slipped his tongue into the sweet darkness beyond.
Oh, yes, yes, yes, Emily thought.
As Emily’s arms floated upward to encircle Mark’s neck, he shifted his to her back, and she allowed herself to be nestled against him. He raised his head a fraction of an inch to take a sharp breath, slanted his mouth in the opposite direction and claimed her lips once again.
Desire exploded within them with licking flames, consuming them, rendering them incapable of rational reasoning. They could only feel, savor. Want.
Emily, Mark’s mind thundered along with his heart. It had been a lifetime since he’d kissed her. No, it had been a second ago because he knew this sweet nectar taste of her, and her feminine aroma, and the intensity of his need, the burning passion that only she could produce in his aching body, because she was Emily.
And he loved her.
Mark broke the kiss and spoke close to Emily’s slightly parted lips.
“I want you,” he said, his voice gritty. “I want to make love with you, Emily, so damn much.”
“I want you, too, Mark,” she whispered, then wondered absently who had said that, and who that was who was taking Mark’s hand and leading him across the living room, down the hall and into her bedroom.
The lamp in the living room cast a muted, rosy glow over the bedroom as Emily swept back the blankets on the bed, then moved eagerly back into Mark’s embrace to receive and return a searing kiss in total abandon.
A whimper of need caught in Emily’s throat.
A groan of want rumbled in Mark’s chest.
He ended the kiss and reached for the buttons on Emily’s blouse, his hands not quite steady. One button, two, three were undone, then Emily stiffened suddenly, her eyes widening as she too
k a step backward, clutching the edges of her blouse over her full breasts.
“Wait,” she said, an edge of panic in her voice. “Close the door.”
Mark frowned in confusion. “We’re the only ones in the house, Emily.”
“Then go turn off the lamp in the living room,” she said, feeling the color draining from her face. “I can’t deny that I want you, want to make love with you. I can’t. But I’m not the Emily I used to be, and the thought of you seeing… How could you possibly desire a woman who is…is…fat and lumpy and…” Tears choked off her words and a chill of soul-deep misery consumed her.
“How could you have desired a boy,” Mark said, “who was built like a skinny stick, was uncoordinated, had feet like gunboats and a cowlick that made him look like a cartoon character?”
“None of that mattered,” she said. “You were Mark.”
“And you are Emily and I want to make love with you. Do you think I’m so shallow that your weighing a few more pounds than before makes a difference to me? I like how you look. You’re a woman grown, who has given birth to my son. You’re beautiful, Emily. You’re special, rare, wonderful and so beautiful you take my breath away.” He opened his arms. “Come to me. Please.”
And she went.
Feeling special, rare, wonderful and beautiful, Emily flung herself into Mark’s embrace, tears brimming her eyes as she felt a glorious sense of rightness, of being where she belonged after such a long, long time away.
Mark kissed her deeply, then they removed their clothes, their eyes sweeping over the other, seeing and cherishing the changes, savoring the sight of the familiar.
They tumbled onto the bed, each reaching for the other, kissing, caressing, rediscovering what they had never really forgotten. Mark splayed one hand on Emily’s rounded stomach, and she stiffened again as images of the slender girl she had once been flashed in her mental vision.
“Our son grew in here,” Mark said, trailing a ribbon of kisses along Emily’s neck, causing her to shiver at the same time as the heat low in her body increased its intensity. “Our miracle that we created together. Thank you, my beautiful lady, for Trevor.”
Plain Jane MacAllister Page 8
