*
In the laundry directly off the kitchen Charlie mechanically folded clean washing and sorted it into piles. Where had Marshall charged off to? More importantly, was he coming back? Her heart slowed. That might’ve been the last time she’d ever see him. The only time Aimee saw her father, and unfortunately her wee girl had no idea who Marshall was to her.
But Marshall took responsibility very seriously. She’d seen that first hand while working with him in Honolulu. It wasn’t something he switched on and off in different situations. It was as intrinsic to him as breathing. The only time she’d met his friend, Rod, in Honolulu he’d told her Marshall put looking out for his men before everything else, including his own safety.
Marshall hadn’t said Aimee had nothing to do with him. When he’d declared, ‘Aimee’s mine,’ without a doubt in his voice, the world had stopped moving. Round one to Marshall. Except there were plenty more hurdles to come. None of them would be easy. They had a long way to go towards making this shared parenthood work. If he came back.
He would. Her fingers reached for the tabletop, brushed the wooden surface lightly. Please.
Dad walked into the kitchen. ‘Think it’s probably about time for a cold beer. Wouldn’t you agree, Marshall?’
‘Can’t say no to that,’ came the deep rumble of the voice she’d been straining to hear for the last hour.
She sighed and dredged up a smile. This putting it out there seemed to work. Marshall had returned. Now the fireworks could start. Or maybe they wouldn’t. She’d try to give him the time and space to absorb the startling news he’d never expected to hear.
‘Hey.’ A shadow fell across her.
Her tummy squeezed with longing when she looked up into the eyes that had been a part of her dreams for so long. Hunger flared for that fun they’d shared, for the uncomplicated nights when they’d explored each other’s bodies, the simple pleasure of walking hand in hand along the beach to watch the sunset. Even a need tugged at her for that professional camaraderie when Marshall had mentored the intern fresh from medical school. But none of that had a place in this situation. ‘Hey to you, too.’
‘Sorry I charged off. I went down to the lake while everything sank in.’ He looked genuinely contrite. ‘I hope you didn’t think I was running away.’
She winced, went for the truth. ‘I hoped you hadn’t, but I did wonder if you’d disappeared from my life again.’ Even she heard the sadness in her voice. ‘It must’ve been a huge shock.’
His forefinger traced her bottom lip. ‘One I hadn’t prepared for, that’s for sure. But I’m back and you have my undivided attention for the next day or two.’
‘I can go with that.’ More than she’d expected, less than she’d hoped for. She placed the neatly folded towel she’d been gripping against her chest on the pile in the basket and stood before Marshall, studying him. Butterflies spread their wings in her stomach, fluttering wildly as she noted the well-honed muscles of his upper arms.
She’d missed him. Two weeks of wild passion and she’d spent the intervening years thinking and dreaming about him, wondering how he was, where he’d gone, who he might be with. And now he stood before her, looking superb in his casual attire.
Leaning forward, she stretched up onto her toes and reached for his mouth with hers. When her lips touched his all those long months of yearning disappeared in a haze of heat. It was as though they’d never gone their separate ways, as if the intervening time had been a figment of her imagination. Her hands slid around his neck, pulled him closer so she could deepen her kiss and press her tongue to his mouth to slide it inside.
And then Marshall was hauling her up against his hard body, his hands splayed across her back as he held her to him. His lips claimed her mouth with a hunger that surprised and shocked her. Marshall had missed her, too. His tongue danced around hers. Her body melted into his, trying to become one with him.
She forgot everything except Marshall. His arms holding her, each one of his fingers pressing into her skin under her T-shirt like hot brands, his hard thighs that reached as high as her hips, that taut belly against her soft baby tummy. His hardening reaction to her.
‘I’ll take the beers outside to the veranda.’
Her father’s quiet voice pierced her euphoria, returned her to normal quicker than anything else could’ve done. ‘Thanks, Dad,’ she managed to gasp.
Surprise radiated out of Marshall’s eyes. ‘Sorry. I got carried away. What will Brendon think of me?’ Embarrassment coloured his cheeks as he let her gently down onto her feet then adjusted his jeans.
‘He’s pleased that you’ve made my day by turning up. He’ll give you some slack.’ Still reeling from the abrupt end to that electric kiss, Charlie raised a wobbly smile. She’d acted rashly, but Marshall did that to her.
‘Your father knew about me?’ His fingers rubbed at his eyelids.
A bubble of laughter rolled up her throat. ‘It was only this morning Dad suggested I give up searching for a while, concentrate on—on other things. So I sort of agreed, and here you are. If I’d known you were going to turn up I’d have saved myself hours of trawling through web sites.’
‘So Brendon’s not going to send me on my way just yet?’
Dad would never do that unless he thought Marshall was bad for her and Aimee. ‘Not a chance. Now, let’s go and be social with him and get that beer into you.’ Pulling the fridge door wide, she found some lemonade to fill a glass. After adding a squeeze of lemon juice, she led the way outside. ‘Come and sit in the shade for a bit. Dad will crank up the barbecue soon and we’ll cook you a Kiwi dinner.’
*
Marshall followed Charlie through the large villa, glancing into rooms they passed. The lounge room was enormous and tastefully decorated. The furniture was stylish yet comfortable. Everything appeared well maintained. Bet that took some doing in an old house like this one.
Stepping onto the veranda, he took the bottle of beer Brendon held out to him. ‘Thanks.’ At least there was no animosity in the other man’s eyes. Certainly some curiosity. He supposed any father would want to check out the guy his daughter had taken a fancy to. God. How embarrassing to be caught necking only hours after catching up with Charlie.
‘Take the weight off your legs.’ Brendon indicated a chair.
/> Even though he’d have preferred to stand, having spent hours squashed up in the plane and then behind the steering-wheel of the car he’d wrecked, he did as he was told. No point in getting any further offside with the guy than he might already be, despite those friendly eyes. Charlie pulled up another chair beside his and plonked her cute butt down, careful not to spill her drink. He asked, ‘You’re not drinking wine these days?’
‘Not since I found out I was pregnant.’ Her glance was distant, as though he’d touched on something important. Like what? It had seemed an innocuous question. But how would he know? There was so much to learn about Charlie. Now that there was a child in the picture he couldn’t walk away. So much for getting Charlie out of his system with a brief visit. If nothing else, Aimee had put paid to that theory. Fooling himself again. He wanted much more of Charlie, and Aimee.
He dug for another, maybe safer topic to chat about. ‘This place is huge. You must rattle around inside. Or do you take in boarders?’
‘Not likely, despite having five bedrooms and two lounges.’ Charlie smiled over her glass, those aqua eyes bewitching him with their twinkle. ‘Plenty of space for when we’ve had enough of each other.’
Brendon sat, stretched his legs out to the edge of the veranda. ‘It’s one of the original homesteads built more than ninety years ago. It belonged to Charlie’s mother’s family.’
Charlie added, ‘Mum was born here. Then I was born here.’
‘And now Aimee.’ He looked around. Where was the little girl? His daughter. Holy Toledo. His daughter. His chest expanded with pride, even though he hadn’t had anything to do with Aimee up until now.
‘No.’ Charlie chuckled. He’d forgotten how often she’d do that and how it had warmed his heart each time. ‘Aimee was born down the road at the maternity hospital. I definitely didn’t want a home birth.’ She leaned forward and pointed under the trees. ‘She’s in the sandpit. Her favourite place at the moment. Long may that last.’
‘Keeps her occupied while you get things done?’
‘You’ve got it. I’m dreading the day she thinks tree-climbing is the best thing to do. There’s a hut in that tree by the fence that I used to spend hours in.’