by Jodi Thomas
He couldn’t get enough of the taste of her, the smell of her, the feel of her body against his. His lips brushed over hers and she opened her mouth, begging him to take more as her hands moved across his chest, measuring, memorizing.
There was no world but here and now. No one else but the two of them. No past. No future.
His hand moved down the front of her blouse until he held her full breast. Moans of pleasure whispered between them as the kiss deepened and his touch grew bold.
Mark’s sanity slipped and he didn’t care. He pressed his open palm gently over her breast as though it belonged there as he kissed her with more passion than he thought he possessed.
Softening with his touch, she welcomed him with abandon. He couldn’t kiss her deep enough or long enough to get his fill and she reacted the same way. Her hands moved over him, hungry for the feel of him.
They were not shy lovers stealing a kiss, but ageless lovers clinging to one another for survival.
He broke the kiss and listened to her rapid breathing as he slid his open mouth down her throat, then lower until the buttons of her blouse stopped him. With kisses he climbed back to her ear and whispered as his chest pressed lightly against hers, “Unbutton it.” He wasn’t sure if the words were a command or a request. He didn’t care. He simply needed to feel her skin.
Her hands trembled as she slipped her fingers between them and unbuttoned her blouse.
“Do you want me to stop?” He tasted her flesh once more as words mingled between them.
“No,” she whispered, already pulling his mouth to her.
The kiss was long and hungry. He broke it when she had no more breath left. As she gulped for air, his mouth moved along her throat and down. The material gave way and he savored the swell of creamy skin that rose above her bra. Then he pressed her against the wall once more and returned to her mouth.
Her body shook with desire. Absorbing the slight movements, Mark deepened the kiss.
His leg moved between her knees and pressed higher, trapping her with his weight while his hands spread across her hips. She moaned once more, a low sound of pure pleasure. He leaned against the side of her face loving the softness of her hair as her head rocked lightly back and forth to his touch.
Somewhere, in the frontier of his mind, he heard shouting. It took him a moment to gain reason enough to be aware of his surroundings.
Her hands pushed against his chest as the shouting grew louder.
Then she was gone. Running toward the street. Running away from him.
Mark hadn’t had time to take a step when Detective Randell rounded the corner of the passageway and almost collided with her.
“Mary!” he said out of breath. “Call 911. Tell them we need an ambulance and backup. Now!”
Mary nodded and ran past Mark to the café.
“And don’t worry about Miller, he’s fine,” Randell yelled after her as he kept an eye on the street. “Faring better than me in the fight,” he mumbled as he ripped off the final few threads holding the pocket to his shirt.
Mark took a step toward the cop.
Randell noticed him in the shadows between the light from the café’s doorway and the streetlight. “That you, Anderson?”
“It’s me.”
Randell put up his hand. “Stay out of this, Mark. Don’t get involved. What’s happening here tonight has nothing to do with you or your missing wife.”
“But…”
Randell checked his gun. “If you want to help, get Mary home safely. A woman in her condition doesn’t need to be on the streets this time of night. I’ll tell Miller you’re taking care of her. Tuesday told me the old man worries over her like a mother hen.”
Without allowing Mark any time to argue, Randell turned and was gone.
Mark stared into the street. A woman in her condition? He absorbed the words one at a time, trying to make sense of it all. He knew he’d just held Blaine in his arms. She might have changed her hair and clothes, maybe gained a little weight, but a man could never forget the feel of his own wife against him. But Blaine wasn’t pregnant.
Or was she? The reason for her clinic visit suddenly became clear. She’d gone to make sure before they talked. Of course! It was the only thing that made sense. But then something had happened and they hadn’t been able to have that talk after all.
The bombing. She hadn’t left him. Maybe his guess about her being hurt and losing her memory could be right. Or maybe Randell’s theory of her having good reason to hide was correct. Otherwise why would she be here, only a few blocks away from his office, calling herself Mary?
Did she know who she was? Did she know he was her husband? He had to find out.
He’d discovered a few disturbing facts about Winslow over the past three days. The man had ties with a few big oilmen and it looked as if he had been doing them favors for a while. The question was, what were they doing for him in return?
Every cell in his body wanted to run inside the café and demand answers, but he knew he’d frighten Blaine even more. There were reasons, there had to be. Blaine might be shy, but she had always been a logical person. For once in his life he needed to shut up and let her talk. Let her find her way back to him.
Mark knocked his head against the brick and groaned in pain. He was too dumb for a frontal lobotomy. How could he have acted this way with her? If she’d lost her memory, and didn’t know who he was, she must be frightened to death. He had to slow down.
If she knew who’d tried to kill her, they had far more important things to talk about than whether she’d unbuttoned her blouse.
He wasn’t some animal who went into heat—he had never been the kind of man to act before thinking. Even in college he was never drunk enough or dumb enough to go home with someone for a one-night stand. But, in his defense, he’d missed her so badly there were times he thought he was losing his mind.
Leaning against the wall, he decided she’d probably never come out of the café. If she had a memory loss, she’d lock the door and wait for help. She would probably think some kind of sex maniac waited for her in the darkness between the café and the streetlight.
He closed his eyes. Dear God, had he really asked her to unbutton her blouse?
He had to calm down, let her tell him. If she was hiding, playing the role of Mary, she might be lying about the pregnancy as well. He had to take conversation with her one step at a time.
Mark knew nothing of how to deal with someone with a memory loss, but attacking them probably wasn’t the first plan. Maybe he should play along. Let her even call herself Mary if that made her happy.
He wasn’t sure what to do, but one thing was sure, he didn’t plan to lose her again. If he had to win her all over again, he would, and he planned to stand between her and whoever wanted her dead.
Blaine hung up the phone and stood in the stillness of the darkened café watching Mark’s silhouette. By the time she felt brave enough to walk back outside, she heard the sirens answering Randell’s call.
She had no idea what she would tell Mark, but the time for pretending was over. No matter how dangerous it was to bring him close she had to tell him everything. Part of him must already know who she was or he wouldn’t have kissed her the way he did. Surely the moment he had touched her, he knew. She’d tell him every detail that had happened since the bombing and he’d figure something out. Whether planned or not, they were in this together now.
He stood among the shadows that crisscrossed in the entryway to the café. His hair was a mess and his eyes were closed, but she knew he heard her walking toward him.
Before she could say anything, or touch him again, as she dearly wanted to do, he pushed his body away from the wall. “I’m sorry, Mary. I don’t know what came over me a few minutes ago.” He plowed his hand through his hair, making it look more out of order than it already did. “Randell told me to see you home.”
He could always talk faster than she could think, but all Blaine heard was one word.
Mary. He still didn’t know who she was. Her husband had kissed her with more passion than he’d ever shown and he thought he was kissing another woman.
She’d gone mad, Blaine decided. She was angry at Mark for kissing her. Angry that he hadn’t known her when their bodies had been pressed together so closely. Angry that she was the other woman in a triangle of two.
Unexpectedly, Blaine laughed.
Mark joined her, first nervously, then truly. When they both calmed down, he added, “I love the way you laugh.”
Blaine decided to play the game. She’d heard a librarian complain once that sometime in every marriage the wife realizes she married the village idiot and tonight must be Blaine’s turn. “You loved her. This wife of yours?”
“She was my heart,” he answered. “Trouble was, I didn’t know it until my heart stopped.”
She fought the knot in her throat as she folded away his words forever in her memory.
He glanced back at the open doorway. “If you’ll lock up, I’ll drive you home.”
She pulled the door closed and checked the lock. “You don’t have to drive me. We can walk.”
“What about your purse?”
Blaine shrugged. “I don’t have one. Don’t need one.”
They walked along in silence for a few blocks, enjoying the stillness of the city after midnight, enjoying being near one another. When they left the businesses and government buildings behind, the streets grew darker with streetlights spread farther apart.
Blaine took Mark’s arm without saying a word. Usually, their strides matched in perfect rhythm as couples who walk side by side often do, but Blaine had shortened her stride as her center of gravity had begun to shift with the baby. Miller had told her one night that she was starting to walk like a duck.
She tried to think of where to start with Mark, but for the moment it felt good just being so close. After all the tension of the past weeks she’d found a peace by his side. She never realized how wonderful that felt until now.
“I’m sorry,” Mark said again. “I didn’t mean to walk so fast.”
“It’s all right, lately everyone seems to walk quickly. I’m pregnant, you know.” She never dreamed she’d say the words so easily to Mark.
“I know. Randell mentioned it.”
They continued in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. When she reached the steps of Dr. Early’s house, Blaine turned without giving him any details as to why she was staying with the doctor. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He hesitated, unwilling to leave her. “Are you safe here?”
“Yes,” she answered.
She studied his face in the midnight light. “I don’t know where to start, Mark. I don’t know how to tell you all…” Frustrated, she felt the tears bubble in her eyes. All her bravery vanished.
He couldn’t hold back any longer. He pulled her into his arms and held her against him. “It’s all right, Blaine. Everything is going to be all right now.”
She cried softly on his shoulder. When she tried to talk, he hushed her with light kisses. “Tomorrow, darling. We’ll talk tomorrow. Right now it’s enough that I found you.”
Thirty
Mark pushed the money on the coffee table toward Lilly as he delivered the old woman her breakfast.
She squealed with pleasure. “Tell me all about it. You did get close enough? You were attracted to her, right? I know it. I felt it in my bones just like my momma always could when she knew something was about to happen.”
“That about sums it up. I got close and I was attracted,” Mark answered. “Except the part about her being Blaine, my wife.”
Mark leaned back in his chair and waited for the questions.
“You mean she reminds you of Blaine?”
“No. I mean I held Blaine in my arms last night. She’d done a good job of making herself into another person, but I seem blessed, or cursed, in this lifetime to be drawn to one woman.”
Lilly raised an eyebrow. “Then why isn’t she here?”
“We decided she’s far safer where she is than with me right now.” He leaned back in his chair and grew serious. “I may be way off, but I think someone is trying to kill her to get to me. The detective who is on this case came up with the idea and I thought he was crazy, but now I’m not so sure.”
Lilly ate her breakfast as Mark filled her in on the details. She asked questions between bites. “Does the detective know Mary is Blaine?”
“Not yet. I’m not sure he would go along with what I have planned. I’ve been trying to work out who would benefit the most by my not running for office or from not being active in the partnership. I can come up with only one person, but I can’t get my hands on any proof. Blaine and I decided to tell no one, trust no one, until it’s safe for her.”
Lilly pointed her fork at me. “Then why are you telling me?”
Mark winked. “Because I need your help.”
Lilly’s grin made wrinkles appear all the way to her ears. “I’m in. This is better than any of my ‘have to watch’ shows.”
“Can you manage to get dressed by ten?”
She slapped at her cast as if it were nothing. “No problem.”
Mark told her what he needed her to do as quickly as he could. He wanted to be at the office as close to on time as possible this morning and he hadn’t yet showered or shaved. “I’ll need to borrow your car. You’ll take a cab, but remember, timing is everything this morning.”
Lilly took his arm as she rose. “I’ll call Andy. Since you gave him that hundred-dollar tip he’s at my door anytime I need a cab.”
Mark wasn’t surprised she knew the cabdriver’s name. “Promise me you’ll be careful. If anything goes wrong act like you’re in pain and need to get out of there.”
Lilly looked offended. “I can handle the man, Mark. Don’t worry about me.”
When he left her apartment she was already hopping around her bedroom trying to decide what to wear. Blaine and he had agreed, for safety, to have no contact until tonight, but Mark had to keep fighting the urge to call her.
When he came out of the shower, he stumbled over Tres, but this morning he only smiled. “She’s coming home,” he whispered as if the cat could understand.
When he turned out of the driveway in Lilly’s car, Mark looked for anyone tailing him. No one. Whoever the cop thought might be watching him must have gotten tired. Or, now that it was too late for him to step back into the race for the Railroad Commission, maybe there was no need.
Once in the office, Mark only had minutes to set up his plan. Bettye Ruth gave him one raised eyebrow as he used the copy machine without her help. He thought of including her on his idea, but since he’d be basically breaking and entering, he didn’t figure she’d go along. If his plan failed, this would be his last day in this law office.
With a shock, he realized how little he cared.
He walked into Winslow’s office as if just planning to say hello.
Harry Winslow looked busy, but he made time for Mark. “Glad to see you in so early.”
Mark leaned on Winslow’s massive desk. “I had to come in. We had a walk-in a few days ago who wants me to handle her divorce. I thought the case would be routine, but now I’m not so sure.”
Winslow didn’t look interested. “Glad to hear you’re back at work. Walk-ins can be a pain, but they’re one way to get back in the saddle.”
“Yeah, this is a more interesting case than I first thought. Seems the husband has a folder full of old oil leases he wants kept out of the settlement. He probably could if she didn’t have a copy of some of the documents.”
“Really?”
Mark fought down a smile. He’d hooked Winslow’s interest. “Trouble is, I don’t know much about what she’s talking about. I may be asking for help on this one since you played the oil game once. I don’t think the woman has any idea what she has and, according to her, her husband is too interested in visiting the women in Vegas to keep up. They need s
omeone to take over their books and from what the woman says neither have kin.”
Winslow stood. “That does sound interesting. I’ll be glad to help however I can.”
Mark swore he saw the man lick his lips.
Winslow tapped his pencil on his calendar. “I could talk to the woman for you if you like. My schedule’s not all that packed this morning.”
Mark shrugged. “If you like. I’ll bring her in here when she comes by.”
“Mr. Anderson?” Bettye Ruth stood at Winslow’s open door. “A Mrs. Crockett is here to see you.”
Mark stood. “Please ask her to come in here. Mr. Winslow will be sitting in on this one with me.”
Winslow nodded.
Bettye Ruth looked uncomfortable. “I’ve already seated her in your office.”
Mark knew she would have done just that before she went looking for him. Bettye Ruth was much too considerate to leave an old woman on crutches standing in the lobby.
“I’m not sure she can make it to this office. She looks exhausted.”
Mark turned to Winslow. “Well, thanks for offering, but…”
“Nonsense.” Winslow stood. “I can go into your office. I see no problem.” He grabbed his notepad and led the parade back to Mark’s office.
Within minutes, Lilly did exactly as Mark had instructed; she acted as if she trusted Winslow far more than Mark, even commenting on how younger folks don’t always understand the problems.
Winslow agreed without giving Mark a glance. The man was at his best when dealing with older women. He knew just how to make them feel comfortable.
Mark talked down to Lilly the first chance he got, explaining something to her as if she were a child, which obviously irritated Winslow.
Miss Lilly leaned closer to Winslow and turned so that she left Mark out of the conversation.
When Mark asked Lilly exactly how many leases her husband held, Winslow clearly let it be known that he thought Mark was being too bold. He looked directly at Mark and reminded the younger partner that he had another appointment waiting.
This was the standard code for asking another to step out, but Mark still tried to look confused.
