by Judy Duarte
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.
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.
Well, glad and sad.
She finally managed to answer his question—sort of. “I’ll have to think about it.”
Hopefully, Mark was still tiptoeing through his feelings for her. Maybe he needed more time to consider something deeper, something stronger and more special.
But memories of her baby’s father crept up on her. Erik Kramer had always sidestepped an I-love-you, and that fact didn’t sit well with her.
Had she misjudged a man again? Given herself to someone who didn’t want the same things in life that she did?
“I need the house as a tax write-off,” Mark said, repeating something he’d already told her. “And since I won’t be living in it, I’ll need someone to take care of things for me.”
She assumed he meant someone to take care of the house. But was he actually asking her to take care of his physical needs, too, while he lived another life that didn’t include her?
Erik had wanted to set Juliet up in a condo. But he hadn’t wanted to marry her, hadn’t been free to do so.
Nor had he wanted to create a family with her.
She offered Mark a smile, but not a commitment of any kind. She needed some time to think. Some time to consider the ramifications of living in his house rent-free. Some time to see if his offer included stipulations she couldn’t accept.
And, a Pollyanna voice reminded her, she needed time to see if there was a remote chance Mark might one day say the words she longed to hear.
Chapter Thirteen
Mark didn’t move into Juliet’s apartment, but his shaving kit sat on her bathroom countertop, and he’d spent the past two nights with her.
That had to count for something.
Sleeping in his arms was something Juliet could easily grow used to. In fact, it was something she hoped they’d both grow used to. And although she had some qualms about his lack of commitment, she decided to take one day at a time. She hoped that, given time, Mark would fall in love with her.
As she parked the Chevy S-10 pickup in the parking lot of the Lone Pine medical building, she glanced into the rearview mirror and checked her lipstick. Light and glossy. Hair was okay, too.
She took Marissa from the car seat and carried her inside.
Mark had offered to go with her to the appointment with the pediatrician, but she’d told him not to bother this time. He’d been researching the Internet and had just found an interesting site that listed the Rafferty Gang and brief bios of some of the outlaws, including Crazy Red Phelps.
As Juliet entered the central waiting room that several doctors used, she recognized a couple of regulars from The Hitching Post, most of whom thumbed through magazines, waiting their turns to be called.
But the attractive, salt-and-pepper-haired woman sitting near a potted palm stood out—Mark’s mother.
Mrs. Anderson had recognized her, too.
Juliet smiled, mouthed a “hello” and waved at the woman. She wanted to be friendly, but was afraid to get too close. After all, challenging Mark about the falling out he’d had with his parents hadn’t gone over well, and she was reluctant to do anything to put a strain on a developing romance.
Okay, so she was still hopeful that their relationship was moving toward happily ever after.
After signing in at the pediatric desk, Juliet searched for a chair. There was an empty seat beside Mrs. Anderson, but she chose one closer to the pediatrician’s office. Surely, the woman wouldn’t think that was odd or that Juliet was trying to avoid her.
Several minutes later, Mark’s mother placed the magazine she’d been reading on a table, stood and made her way to Juliet. She nodded to an empty chair. “I hope you don’t mind if I sit here.”
Obviously, Mrs. Anderson didn’t have anything to lose by striking up a conversation. And since Juliet had decided not to push Mark anymore about reconciling with his parents, what would it hurt?
“No, I don’t mind at all.” Juliet offered her a smile, then made sure Marissa’s diaper bag was out of the way so the older woman wouldn’t trip over it.
“Are you bringing the baby in for a checkup?” Mrs. Anderson continued to stand and study Marissa, a look of awe in her gaze.
“Yes. I’m curious to see how much she’s grown, although I know she fits into her newborn gowns much better now.”
“She’s a beautiful baby.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Anderson.”
“It’s Anne-Marie,” she corrected, flashing Juliet a nervous smile. She too
k a seat and rested a black purse in her lap. “I’m not sure what my son has told you.”
“Not much. Just that he’s never gotten along with his father. And that you’d had a rift of some kind.” Juliet didn’t want to be disloyal to Mark, yet she was still curious as to what had caused the division.
“My husband and I would like to apologize for a lot of things, but Mark won’t give us a chance.” The older woman bit her bottom lip. “And I suppose, I can’t blame him.”
Juliet felt sorry for the mother who appeared to want to make things right with her son. And since Mark was the only child the Andersons had left, Juliet could certainly understand that.
“I’m not sure how close the two of you are,” Anne-Marie said, “but if you could talk to him, let him know that we love him, that we’d like to talk and try to put some of this behind us….”
“Mark is stubborn,” Juliet said. “And I think he’s been hurt deeply, although I don’t know any of the details.”
“It all started with the move,” Mrs. Anderson said. “I should have leveled with the kids, but I was afraid to.”
Juliet knew Mark didn’t like Thunder Canyon and resented moving away from El Paso.
“Mark was always butting heads with my husband. And I was afraid that if he knew his father was having an affair with a young woman in town and that our marriage was on the rocks, he wouldn’t take it well. That he would have rebelled. But now I think that may have been the wrong decision.”
Juliet wasn’t so sure about that. Did kids need to hear those kinds of details about the adults in their lives? Or should they be protected from things that really weren’t their business?
“My husband’s father had passed away, and his mother, although grieving and struggling to be on her own, came up with the idea. She begged Jess to give our marriage a chance, to leave town and the woman who’d come between us. A move was our only chance to remove the temptation and start fresh.”
“And your husband agreed?”
“Reluctantly.” Mrs. Anderson blew out a shaky sigh. “It was tough at first. Jess was so hard to live with. He’d made a sacrifice for the good of the family, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it. And then we were struggling to make a go of the motel. The kids were miserable and missed their friends, their grandmother.”
That still didn’t seem like a good enough reason to stay angry, to maintain a grudge.
“But things are much better now,” Anne-Marie said, a steady smile growing. “My husband and I have become involved in the community and in our church. I just wish Mark could get to know his father on an adult level.”
So did Juliet. If anything, she was more convinced that the Andersons needed to have a heart-to-heart.
“My daughter’s death is what finally tore our family apart,” Anne-Marie added. “Mark felt responsible, and I’m afraid, in our anguish, we blamed him, too.”
“Was it his fault?”
“No, it wasn’t. But at the time, my husband and I were crazy with grief and frustration. We, or rather Jess, said some terrible things to Mark. And, obviously, those remarks are something my son can’t forgive.”
Juliet hurt for Mark, but she sympathized with his parents, too. Surely this was something that could be mended, patched up.
“I don’t think there’s a lot I can do to facilitate a reconciliation right now,” she told the older woman, “but I truly believe Mark would be a happier man if he could make peace with his family. And when the time is right, I’ll do my best to encourage him to talk to you and your husband.”
“Bless you,” Mrs. Anderson said. “Mark’s wife tried to step in, right before their marriage, but Mark refused. And my husband and I weren’t even invited to the wedding.”
Mark’s wife?
Juliet’s heart pounded in her chest, but before she could comment or quiz the woman any further, a nurse called, “Anne-Marie Anderson.”
“I have to go, but thank you so much for listening.” Mark’s mother patted Juliet’s hand, then got up from her seat, leaving Juliet in the waiting room, feeling betrayed.
She’d been honest with Mark from the start. Why had he kept so many secrets from her?
And he had a wife? Was he married? Divorced? Separated?
He’d never said a word, never hinted.
Her pulse throbbed in her ears, as her anger built.
Were all men jerks?
Or just the ones she was attracted to?
Mark sat before the laptop computer, typing some notes into a file.
So far, he’d learned that Willard “Crazy Red” Phelps, the Confederate soldier turned outlaw, had been born near Thunder Canyon. His father had died “in the prime of life,” and his mother had taken him and an older brother to live with her parents on a small farm outside of Atlanta. That’s where he’d grown up.
Stretching and trying to work a kink out of his shoulders, Mark glanced at the clock in the kitchen. Juliet was due home soon, unless she stopped by Super Save Mart.
He heard a car drive up and peered out the dining room window. There she was. Just her and the baby. No groceries to help her carry in.
After saving his work, he shut down the computer, eager to hear what the doctor had said, and opened the door for Juliet.
She trudged up the steps, her movements tense, all signs of a smile absent.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Mark’s heart damn near jumped from his chest. He could have sworn Marissa was gaining weight and growing longer. “What did the doctor say?”
“Nothing much.” Juliet carried Marissa into the bedroom and laid her in the cradle.
“Then what’s the matter?”
As she returned to the living room, her hands plopped on her hips and a fire raged in her eyes. “How dare you keep secrets from me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I told you everything. About my family. About Marissa’s father.”
The woman might be petite and soft-spoken at times, but a Latin temper had surfaced, one he’d only caught a glimpse of in the past.
He didn’t know who had talked to her, what she’d learned, but he wasn’t going to run at the mouth until he had an idea where she was going with all of this.
“Why don’t we start over,” he said.
“Why don’t you start over by telling me about your wife.”
“I have no idea what’s got you so riled up. Susan and I were divorced years ago.”
Juliet’s stance didn’t waver. What the hell did she want to know? It’s not as though he was still married. As though he was trying to pull a fast one, like Marissa’s father had done.
Mark raked a hand through his hair. “Not long after landing a job with Golden Eagle News Service, I married a young woman I’d met in college.”
Juliet listened, although her silent anger showed no sign of abating.
Mark blew out a sigh. “Susan was a homebody and a schoolteacher by degree. She wanted a home and a family and didn’t appreciate my itinerant lifestyle.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“The marriage didn’t last a year, but that was long enough for me to realize I’m not husband material.”
His words seemed to crush her. Or enrage her. It was hard to tell. Whatever she was feeling had her wrapped tighter than a top ready to launch.
She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one leg. “You’ve kept secrets from me.”
So what if he had? He kept secrets from everyone. It was the only way he could live with what he’d done.
Had her informant told her about Kelly, too? About the part he played in her death?
“Our friendship,” Juliet added, “hasn’t been a two-way street.”
Their friendship?
Whatever they’d shared was more than that, although he didn’t want to go there. Didn’t want to consider what he was feeling for her and why her anger bothered him so much.
He
wasn’t sure what to say in his defense. His emotions were swirling around like a Texas twister.
“Why did you ask me to live in the house you want to buy?”
“To help you out,” he said. “You and Marissa need a better place to live. And I hoped we could work out something beneficial for both of us. I hoped you’d look after my interests.”
“You can take your interests and shove them where the sun doesn’t shine.” Her eyes sparked in ire, then she unleashed a flurry of words in Spanish, few of which he could decipher when she spoke that fast. She threw up her hands. “Soy la tonta del barrio.”
The fool of the neighborhood?
Mark wasn’t exactly sure what had set her off. Or who had told her he’d been married before, albeit briefly. But there was no talking to her, no reasoning with her like this. So he kept his mouth shut, listening and hoping a clue would surface.
“I think it’s best if you take your things and go back to the inn.”
Her words sucked the air out of the small apartment, but it was too late for her to reel them in, too late for him to apologize and start over.
And he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Wasn’t sure what would happen if he did.
The old fight-or-flight instinct had kicked in, and he was afraid to fight for something he didn’t think would last. So he packed his laptop and his shaving kit, and left the small rundown apartment.
And as he did, no one felt more of a fool than he did.
Back at the inn, Mark paced the floor, his anger and frustration pouring out of every cell in his body.
Thank God he hadn’t signed on the dotted line for one of those damned houses, or he’d be in the same fix as Iris Grabowski—stuck with a home he didn’t need or want.
Stuck.
That’s how he felt. Imprisoned in Thunder Canyon on a fool’s errand.
But he wasn’t going to stay any longer. He was out of here.
He snatched his cell phone and dialed his boss. After several rings, Tom Detwiler answered.
“It’s Mark Anderson.”
“Hey, thanks for getting that file to me so quickly. You’re the best.”
Yeah, well Mark sure hoped he felt that way after he asked to be reassigned, or else he’d quit the news service. He couldn’t stay in Thunder Canyon one more minute.
