It was with great disappointment that he finished covering the last, tiny patch of satiny-smooth skin between her breasts at the very bottom of the V. He straightened and screwed the cap on the bottle.
“There. Not a drop on your new suit,” he said as he handed the lotion back to her.
He paused when he finally glanced up into Mari’s face. Her cheeks had turned pink. Her lips were parted as she panted shallowly.
He’d been so absorbed in the erotic task of putting lotion on the upper and inner swells of Mari’s breasts he hadn’t really noticed the effect he was having on her. He opened his mouth to apologize, but wouldn’t that be a bit disingenuous? Was he really sorry?
“I think I’ll go take another swim.”
She didn’t reply as she watched him stand. He hoped she wasn’t angry at him, but Christ… How much temptation could a man take?
You’re making a lot of selfish excuses, he remonstrated with himself as he sliced through the water. Mari meant a lot more to him than sex. A hell of a lot more. She’d made a point of saying she wanted to see if there was a chance for them beyond their obvious sexual chemistry. She’d said she didn’t want to be pushed. And look at how he was behaving. He couldn’t help but recall that both Mari and his mother had made a point of saying he always got what he wanted. Was this the kind of thing they were referring to? He wanted Mari—a hell of a lot—and he couldn’t seem to stop himself from touching her, no matter what the circumstances.
The thought sobered him.
He did a racer’s flip and soared in the opposite direction.
Problem was, his sexual attraction for Mari was all tied up with a ton of other feelings. It was as easy to turn off his physical desire for her as it was to disengage from his emotional attachment.
But he was going to have to try, if this was going to work. He was going to have to try harder. He’d never forgive himself if he got to the end of this weekend and had to live with himself for blowing things with the only woman in the world who mattered.
Mari was feeling exceptionally sleepy by the time they packed up their things and headed back down the elevator to Marc’s condominium. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was because she’d slept only a few hours last night.
Or maybe it was the fact that she was pregnant.
Whatever the case, Marc took one look at her once they’d walked into his cool, quiet living room and suggested she go take a nap. She was so pleasantly groggy that she didn’t argue, but wandered back to the guest bedroom, shut the door and fell asleep almost instantly on the bed.
She awoke later, turned over and saw muted evening light seeping around the blinds.
Thank goodness. She hadn’t slept for too long. It would have made her sad to think she’d wasted this rare opportunity with Marc by sleeping away a good chunk of time.
She sprung out of bed, completely refreshed. Pregnancy seemed to have the effect of making her feel either as wrung out as a limp dishrag or energized, as if she could take on the world…maybe even Marc Kavanaugh.
While she showered, she recalled in vivid detail laying there on that deck chair and watching the intent focus on Marc’s face while he slowly, carefully drew little gliding circles over the tops of her breasts. Heat rushed through her body and she turned down the hot water a tad. Mari wasn’t sure if it was just Marc’s effortless sexuality or the fact that her own body was extra sensitive—perhaps because of the pregnancy—but she’d never known she possessed quite so many erogenous zones.
After her shower, she took time and care with her appearance, wanting to look her best. She styled her hair and applied her make-up sparingly—she didn’t need much, thanks to her good color from spending the afternoon in the sun. She dressed in a sleeveless, coral chiffon dress she favored because it worked for everything from a casual evening at home to dinner or cocktails out. The chiffon fabric twisted just beneath the V-neck and followed the same tan line as the suit she’d worn today. Her eyebrows went up when she inspected herself in the dress. Maybe her stomach wasn’t starting to protrude, but her breasts definitely looked fuller than usual beneath the soft fabric.
She finished off the outfit with gold hoop earrings, a wrist cuff, sandals and then completed her preparation with a spritz of her favorite perfume. Her heart sank a little in disappointment when she entered the large living/dining room area and didn’t see Marc anywhere. Had he thought she was going to sleep through the night, and left to run some errands? No—it looked as if he’d set the dining room table for two. In the distance, she heard a shower running in the master bath.
She smiled as she perused his bookcases in the living room. She was glad they were staying in for the evening.
One could always learn so much about a person from their books. Marc’s shelves were filled with everything from autobiographies and biographies to historical books and popular thrillers. She pulled out one of three unlabeled black books and murmured happily when she realized it was a photo album of Marc’s younger years.
She sat in the corner of the couch and began leafing through the album. Derry Kavanaugh’s face leaped out at her from one photo. It was a rare family shot of the whole Kavanaugh family on one of the Harbor Town white beaches. One single moment of happiness had been captured for eternity, Mari thought as she brushed a finger across Marc’s adolescent face. Derry’s hair was a mixture of gold and gray, and his handsome, smiling face made him look as if he didn’t know the meaning of sorrow. The photo had caught Brigit Kavanaugh staring at her husband, love softening her features.
She felt a bond with Brigit in that moment. They were both grown women who had fallen in love with charismatic Kavanaugh men. They had both lost those men in different ways.
If Brigit had a second chance with Derry Kavanaugh, would she take it? She took another look at a Brigit’s loving expression as she stared at her husband and had her answer.
Her heart felt a little heavy or full—Mari couldn’t decide which—when she turned the page. For a few seconds, she just stared. After a moment, she carefully picked up the wax-paper envelope with the two flowers that had been dried and preserved—the daisy and the iris. She saw the words Marc had quoted back to her written in Brigit’s slanted, clear hand—Mari’s favorites. Sun and shade. The envelope had been placed beneath a photo of her and Marc standing in the Kavanaugh backyard, Marc’s arm around her, both of them grinning broadly, sunburned and flushed with first love. She must have been about sixteen, Marc nineteen.
“I took it when I found it at Mom’s.”
Mari glanced up at the sound of Marc’s gruff voice. Through the film of tears over her eyes, she saw that his hair was still damp and that he wore a pair of jeans and a casual blue cotton button-down shirt. She must have had a slightly bewildered expression on her face because he seemed to find it necessary to clarify.
“The flowers, I mean. I figured…you know.”
“What?” Mari asked when he didn’t finish.