Leif comforted her with a squeeze of her folded hands. “I’m sure she was proud of you.”
“I hope so, but I’m afraid all I ever brought her was shame.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute.”
“If she knew I was pregnant and unmarried now, I think she’d roll over in her grave.”
He laughed gently at her absurd remark.
“Forgive me for getting all dramatic, but sitting on your mother’s bench, well, it made me think of her.”
*
Leif glanced at Marta, happy she appreciated his brand of creativity yet sorry for her complicated, conflicted feelings about her mother, especially not being able to say goodbye before she had died. The sun glinted off her dark hair, making it look silky and touchable. He fought the urge to reach out and roll a loose lock of her hair through his thumb and fingers. How good it used to feel to touch his wife whenever he wanted, to have free reign of her body. What was it about Marta that always led his mind in that direction?
He pulled back his thoughts, worried that Marta really could read them, but evidently not soon enough. Before he realized what she was doing, she’d scooted closer on the bench, her pupils wide and round, her hand reaching for and soon caressing his cheek. Maybe she’d read his thoughts after all. Without thinking further he tilted his head and, boom, she kissed him.
Her mouth settled on top of his, spreading warmth and a gentle invitation to kiss her back. Her sweet, spicy scent combined with the feel of her plump lips made for a heady swell. He returned the kiss and soon pressed his tongue into her welcoming mouth. Her slick, wet tongue tasted like mint and honey.
He’d missed this part of his life. Being with a woman, sharing natural responses.
Her sweet, innocent gesture quickly changed to something more. Something about Marta, having her in his arms, made him come alive. His hands gripped her shoulders and wandered around her back, sizing up her softness and strength. He wondered about how right this could be. A quick, fanciful thought.
As though sensing his discovery, she responded to his touch and kissed more eagerly, her fingers pulling his neck and head closer, the tips pressing into his skin. It felt great to be wanted. Beyond great. It had been far too long. But the moment of closeness also brought back a rush of memories, both good and bad. Opening up had become too hard, forgotten even. He couldn’t allow himself to get involved. His loss with Ellen had been too much. He couldn’t go there again. It was too painful.
Her sweet kisses were an invitation to heartache and devastation, and he’d already had more than a lifetime’s worth.
Allowing his torn thoughts to ruin the moment, he backed away from the kiss, an old, familiar deadness taking hold inside, and he slowly withdrew.
Her puzzled expression soon turned to concern.
She lowered her head, unable to look him in the eyes, his detached attitude shattering her normally straightforward approach. He hated himself for doing that to her but was nowhere near able to explain why he’d done it, knowing without a doubt the old “it’s not you, it’s me” routine would fall on deaf ears. She’d never buy it. She expected too much of him—expected him to be normal again. Didn’t she get that he couldn’t?
“It’s because I’m pregnant, isn’t it?”
What? No! He hadn’t even allowed himself to get past the point of kissing a new woman, let alone to think about anything else. The pregnancy hadn’t entered his mind. But she had given him an out…because they’d gotten too close and it freaked the hell out of him.
Unknowingly, she’d handed him the perfect excuse he was grappling for to keep her safely at a distance. Low blow as it might be, he’d take that pretext and use it. Anything to keep from opening up his life to someone again. Anything to avoid being vulnerable.
Hating himself even as he took the easy way out, he nodded, strongly suspecting her being rejected over the pregnancy would sting to the core. And he hated himself for it. Hated to face how messed up he still was. Hated to impose that on her.
“I’m not looking for a husband, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I know that.” But hadn’t she been disappointed when her ex hadn’t offered marriage?
He dared to look into her eyes to see the brokenhearted expression he’d put there and quickly realized he may as well have taken a knife to his own flesh.
Chapter Five
Leif suffered through his attraction to Marta over the next couple of weeks, suspecting she loathed him for rejecting her over the pregnancy. It hurt like hell, but there was no point in pursuing their attraction, so he let her think the worst of him.
He watched her get up each day decked in overalls and a T-shirt and head over to the college to paint the outdoor mural. On the first day, he’d loaded his truck with the supplies and cans of paint, wondering how she’d manage to do the hard labor on her own. Painting to the scale of the walls, one inch to one foot, seemed a daunting task for a lady barely five-feet-six-inches tall.
Once at the college he delivered her supplies and was surprised to find a team organized and waiting to help. Desi Rask, a new enrollee in the art department, had arranged the group, which included Elke Norling, Ben Cobowa and a handful of other art students. Anything Marta needed, they jumped to the task, making it happen. Honestly, Leif felt a little useless. So after he delivered the combination ladder/scaffold work platform for the higher-up painting, he’d left and hadn’t gone back.
To make up for the fruitless feeling, he dived into his private project to find a way to remove what they suspected to be buried treasure from the sacred ground, hoping to do the least amount of damage in the process.
The town was already in an upheaval over the news about their distorted history. There seemed to be two clear factions—those who embraced the pirate story and those who were horrified by it. Personally, it wasn’t an issue for him; there was nothing they could do about it so they may as well make the most of the attention it would bring. As the local small business folks said, the influx of tourists would be good for everyone.
The committee knew they couldn’t keep the buried treasure a secret much longer. Leif needed to complete and present his report ASAP. As a result, he worked long hours with the engineer consultants reviewing the infrared thermal study findings. What they came up with was the best, nondestructive way to positively identify the trunk and its contents. He knew where to get the equipment to do the job. Removing it with a straight-down dig would only disrupt a tiny fragment of the entire burial grounds. And that was the sticking point. He hoped it would be considered a compromise.
The special committee was divided over his report at the Thursday-night meeting. Ben and Elke were firm on not disrupting the sacred ground for any reason. Even the lure of potentially millions of dollars in ancient coins and jewels, which could benefit the college and the entire town, wouldn’t change their minds. Jarl Madsen waffled between the benefit to the Maritime Museum the findings would bring and the principle of respecting the Chinook spirits. The rest of the committee voted to move forward with the plan, and though Leif admitted to being uncomfortable with the task, he felt it was necessary.
Division seemed to be the term of the day and the theme of their meeting, and when Leif arrived home with a pounding headache, the last thing he wanted was to be taunted by Marta. Yet there she stood at the base of the staircase, wearing a silky, long, flowing, cream-colored dress with a wide leather belt that matched her open-toed shoes and a linen bolero jacket that had a collar more suited for a bathrobe. Her hair hung loose over her shoulders, and with large gold hoop earrings, she looked gorgeous as always, even while nailing him with a serious stare.
“How’d the meeting go?” she asked.
“As to be expected. How is the mural coming along?” Maybe he could divert the line of questioning.
She raised a brow as if he’d asked a loaded question or had dodged her question. He should have known the tactic wouldn’t get by her.
“T
he mural’s great. We’re moving along really well. At this rate I should be out of your hair within another month to six weeks.”
Did she really think all he wanted to do was get rid of her? Was that why she’d dressed to slay him with that getup and those red toenails? “That wasn’t my point.”
“I understand.” No she didn’t, but he was too tired and wiped out to argue. Though seeing her had instantly revived a basic part of him. “Listen, I overheard Elke and Ben talking about more bad news at school today. Is that why you’ve been so busy lately, why you had this meeting tonight?”
He nodded. Why deny it? Everything would come out within a week after the citywide vote because the committee had decided to go public again. “Yep. This pirate business seems to be the gift that just keeps on giving.”
With folded arms she stepped closer, and even from this distance, his body reacted to her.
“How so?”
He inhaled and rubbed his jaw. “You mind if I pour myself a drink?”
“Of course not. It’s your house.” Now she looked downright curious. “What’s going on, Leif?”
He strode to the wet bar in the corner of the living room and poured two fingers of Glenlivet Scotch whiskey straight up, swirled the liquid in the glass, took a drink and plopped down on the nearest chair beside the fireplace. If she weren’t pregnant, he would have offered her a snifter. The liquor burned its way down his throat, with a welcomed woodsy taste accompanying it. Due to his empty stomach, he almost immediately felt the relaxing effect.
Marta had followed him into the room and primly sat on the edge of the adjacent wing-back chair, catching her hair and putting it all over one shoulder, making her look sexy as hell. She took off her shoes and dug her toes into the fluffy faux-animal-fur rug. Man, she was driving him crazy. Was it intentional?
“So part of our findings from the beginning were these journals. You know the story.” She’d read all of the newspaper articles, so he knew she was aware of the facts. “We also found a map made by Captain Prince, and the journal indicated a second trunk, which he’d buried. I hired a company to provide an infrared imaging of the area in question, and the consensus is this alleged second pirate trunk is buried on the wrong side of the Ringmuren.”
“Seriously?” Her eyes were wide, and under the recessed ceiling lights they looked the color of his whiskey.
“So once again, we’re in the middle of a mess. Do we dig for it or respect the grounds?” A rhetorical question.
“Respect the sacred grounds,” she said without blinking.
“It’s not that easy.”
“Yes, it is.”
He shook his head slowly and took another drink, rolled the liquid around in his mouth for the fullest effect, then swallowed. “Nothing is ever that easy.”
And that could be the metaphor for his life. Already the drink had worked its wonders, making him go all philosophical as part of the process. For Marta, everything seemed easy-peasy. How different they were.
“Heartlandia could benefit from the treasures in the trunk on more levels than we can count. The citizens will vote on it.”
“It would be disrespectful and nothing good would come of it.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I guarantee it.”
“How can you be so damn sure of everything?”
She tossed her head. “It’s a gift, I guess.”
She sounded sarcastic, and Leif suspected things weren’t over yet. He decided to put the topic to rest for now by pointing her in another direction. “So any questions you have can get answered at the next town meeting.” Yeah, it was a cop-out, but he wanted off the hot seat. Now.
She gave a quick nod but kept watching him.
“Do me a favor and quit staring at me like you’re reading my mind,” he said. “Because I can guarantee you don’t have any idea what I’m thinking right now.” Like how beautiful you are, especially when you’re riled up.
“We can agree to disagree on digging or not for now, but count me as the opposition.”
“Yeah, I heard that the first time. Too bad you don’t get to vote.” His drink seemed to call out to him, yet he couldn’t tear his gaze from hers. An energy-fueled moment coursed between them and an all too familiar feeling gathered strength throughout his body.
She blinked, then didn’t waste another beat before coming at him again. “I’d like to ask a question on an unrelated topic, though.”
“Fine with me.” Anything to get off the sacred burial grounds. He’d had enough discussion on that tonight for the rest of the year.
She lowered her eyes and smoothed her skirt, then glanced back up. “I can’t quite get a grip on how long you intend to live like a hermit.” Her voice was soft when she landed her sucker punch.
This was an angle he hadn’t bargained for. Considering the fact she lived under the same roof as him and had already figured things out, the pointed question was worthy of an answer. “I don’t—”
“Of course you do. You may as well still be wearing your wedding ring.”
Anger flashed through him. She must have seen it in his eyes.
“Forgive me for being indelicate, but I’m just being real.”
Was it sympathy he saw in her expression? Damn it, he didn’t want to be pitied, so he went stoic and brooded.
“Look,” she said. “It’s obvious we’re attracted to each other, yet when I touch you, you act as if I’ve thrown acid on you.”
Was this why she’d dressed like that and waited for him to come home? To finally have it out? “That’s a lie.”
“And you’re the lousiest liar I’ve ever met. For the record, I didn’t buy that phony excuse about my pregnancy, either.”
“You’re the one who suggested it.”
“A ploy, and you glommed onto it…desperately.”
Indeed he had, as if the skies had suddenly opened up and rained down excuses for being a loner, he’d taken her suspicion of his resistance being because of the pregnancy and run with it. “Wait. You didn’t believe me?”
“Hell no. But I knew you couldn’t go on kissing me. I know you’re not able to move on with your life yet, but what I don’t understand is why.”
With his jaw locked tight, he rolled the last of the whiskey around in his glass, looking at it rather than at Marta’s sharp and knowing stare. Then he downed it. How could a guy feel so naked when fully dressed?
“I’m not here forever.” Her voice had softened. “In the meantime, we could help each other forget. It could be healing even.”
He lifted his eyes to her, sensing a glimmer of hope while feeling the weight of the world on his chest. Her cheeks were flushed, her pupils large. Passion radiated from her, pulsing over him, forging another chink in his quickly dwindling armor.
She wasn’t suggesting forever. She was offering now. And it shook his world down to the root.
He was tired of dropping out of his personal life. Sick and tired of wanting but not taking. On instinct, he put down his glass, stood and walked toward Marta. Pulling her up and into his arms, he took control of the moment, drawing her close, fitting his mouth to hers, kissing her as he’d wanted to for days. Like the first time he’d kissed her, she responded to his touch with the passion she’d just hurled at him, along with those challenging words to knock him out of his rut.
She’d done more than that.
Her mouth had already become familiar, and he captured it with the lunge of his tongue. He held her close and tight, aware of her full breasts pressed to his chest, her hips flush to his, the energy that arced between them. He inhaled that crazy cinnamon-spice scent and whatever the hell else it was. Exploring her lips and tongue, the kiss set off threads of heat and longing that laced a twisted path to his groin. Losing control with each kiss, he deepened it, pulled back and dived in again. And again.
Lost in her, his fingers dug into her hair, loving the thickness and satin feel, and keeping her mouth exactly where he wanted it. They
breathed each other and made out like randy teenagers, enjoying a clandestine moment outside of time. This wasn’t forever, she’d said. That concept had clicked, and for whatever crazy reason, he’d come to a point where he could deal with that. The right now.
Long heady moments passed as they kissed, caressed and explored, his body waking up kiss by kiss from its extended sleep, hungry for more. And more.
Marta bracketed his face with her hands and, revealing her flushed cheeks and swollen lips from his overenthusiastic kisses, pleaded with her eyes. “We can do this, Leif. It’s ours for the taking. Just for now. I promise I don’t come with strings.”
He fought for focus, his ears ringing, his body zinging with impulses. “You’ve got to understand something first.”
She watched and waited.
“I don’t know about healing or right now or being good for each other,” he said. “I don’t understand any of it. All I know is you make me want to do things I’ve tried to forget, and you’re driving me crazy.”
Concern flashed in her eyes. Did it finally compute how hard she pushed his defenses? “We don’t have to rush it, then,” she said, dropping her hands and edging out of his arms. “As long as we know we’re on the same page.”
And that was the problem. Was he on the same page as her? An affair? Short and convenient. While they just happened to be living under the same roof. Could he separate emotions from a physical relationship with the snap of a finger? Could he be with someone new after the twelve years he’d devoted to Ellen? Right now it seemed like forever since he’d been with her. Tension crept back into his body.
Falling for the Mom-to-Be Page 8
