Or perhaps she was just a coward, and was avoiding having him misunderstand her intentions…judge her.
She waved lamely toward the house. “I have cleaning to do.”
“There are better things to do on a gorgeous day like today than dust, Mari.”
She gave a bark of laughter. Confronted with Marc’s wry challenge, she couldn’t seem to help it. It was so strange to feel this swelling surge of life, like sap rising in an old tree. She’d grown so used to being careful to maintain her control, of walling off the impulsive side of her nature that she only knew existed because of the man who sat next to her.
“I don’t have a swimsuit,” she said, her gaze locked on his well-shaped mouth.
“Colleen and Deidre left a dozen suits over the years. I saw them behind the towels in the linen closet. Come on,” he said. “There are still some good times to be had in Harbor Town. The only thing that’s required is that you let them happen.”
She had a hundred other things to do besides idle away the day on the beach with Marc. Still, part of her clung to the promise in his blue eyes.
“The real estate agent is going to be here any minute,” she stalled.
“Perfect. I have some work to finish up before we go. The meeting with the agent isn’t going to take all day, is it?”
“No, but…” She paused when he gave her a pointed glance.
“You always get your way, don’t you,” she said softly.
Her heart squeezed in her chest at the sight of his potent grin.
“That remains to be seen, but I’m the optimistic type. How about if I pick you up at two?”
Later that afternoon, Marc waited on Mari’s front porch while she changed into the swimsuit he’d brought. He’d kept his expression impassive when she’d given him a you’ve got to be kidding me look when he’d handed her the bikini.
“There’s more air than material to this thing,” she’d accused as she’d held up the skimpy bathing suit.
“What?” he’d asked innocently. “You used to wear bikinis all the time.”
“I’m not a teenager anymore. Honestly,” she’d scolded.
He’d glanced over her. “You’ve got even more of a reason to wear a bikini now than you did when you were seventeen, Mari.”
The roll of her eyes had told him she thought he was full of it, but Marc had only been telling the absolute truth. The vision of Mari naked in the Palmer House Hotel’s room would undoubtedly be burned into his memory until the day he died. Her beauty had matured into the type that could make a man a little nuts, if he let it.
He glanced up when the screen door opened and Mari walked out onto the porch. Her brown hair was up on her head, but a few wisps of it fell around her flushed cheeks. She wore a red tank top and jean shorts that showed off her long, shapely legs. He let his gaze trail over the sight of bare shoulders that reminded him of smooth honey. His body responded to the sight of her like a cord jerked tight.
Still. After all these years.
“All set?” he asked gruffly as he stood.
She nodded and glanced away. He’d started to get used to Mari’s hesitancy around him—her nervousness. When he saw the color in her cheeks deepen, he wondered if it’d truly been anxiety she’d been experiencing, though.
He’d already picked up a lunch for them from The Tap and Grill. After he’d stowed it and the canvas bag she carried in the storage receptacles on Liam’s bike, he noticed Mari’s expression.
“What?” he asked.
“I’d forgotten we would be—” she waved vaguely at the motorcycle “—you know…using Liam’s bike.”
He knew what she was thinking, and he thought it was best not to comment. She, too, recalled driving around Harbor Country years ago, the cycle vibrating with power beneath them, Mari pressed so tightly against his hips and back that not even a granule of the white, sugary sand from one of the beaches could have made its way between them.
He just grinned and handed her a helmet. Her wariness faded when she took in his expression. He was relieved to see her lips curve in amusement. He’d expected her to insist on taking her rental car instead of the bike. She was in the process of fastening the helmet when she paused. Marc glanced up the street where she was staring. He saw his mother standing at the top of the steps of her house. She was watching them.
“Let’s go,” he said quietly, noticing how Mari’s smile had faded at the sight of Brigit. “That sun is broiling me. I need a swim.”
He straddled the leather seat. The engine roared to life. He waited while Mari climbed on. When he felt the pressure of her thighs surrounding his and her arms around his waist, he took off down the driveway, the feeling of Mari’s supple body pressing against him, making him forget his mother’s condemning glare.