All That You Are (30 page)

Mark held the microphone with ease in his large hand, his tall body muscled and confident. A green-and-brown-plaid button-down shirt fit him nicely over his broad shoulders, and was tucked into dark denim jeans. His black hair was neatly combed off his forehead, but a piece managed to stray and rest over his brow. Brown eyes were warm and friendly.

“So in case you don't know,” Mark said, turning toward Card, “Dana's father, Oscar Jackson, opened the Blue Note bar back in the seventies as a tribute to the jazz music he loved. He played his sax here until his death six years ago. I heard that his Southern sound was like no other, and that he could bring them in from miles away just to hear him play. I would have liked to meet him.”

Dana blinked back the tears that had gathered in her eyes, not wanting them to spill. While her father had passed, his legacy lived on through the memories of those who'd known him. She, too, had a moment's wish that Mark Moretti had been able to meet her dad.

“As a tribute to Oscar, and a monument to stand at this bar, I asked Cardelle to do something for me.” Mark moved toward Card and laid a hand on the man's shoulder. “Many of you think all this guy can do is sell bling.”

With a big smile, Cardelle said, “Good people, you can find me at Jewels of de Nile—I give a discount to anybody who mentions dis night. For de ladies—tanzanite rings, fifty percent off.”

Women cheered.

Cardelle's blatant sales pitch was just the thing Dana needed to pull herself back together and forget her tears.

Mark took control once more while Cardelle went to the white draping and held on to a corner. Bringing Dana to the curtain, Mark positioned her in front of it. “Dana,” he said, then lowered his voice softy, “this is for you.”

With a jerk, Cardelle pulled the curtain and Dana sucked in her breath with shock, tingles rising over every inch of her body.

There on the wall, painted on a long stretch of canvas, was her father's image. His handsome black face took up the entire left side with a saxophone raised to his lips. Musical notes erupted from the sax's brass bell to dance across the canvas and intricately spell out the words
The Sax Man.
The musical notes tripped and turned on giant Ketchikan raindrops as they fell in a whimsical scatter to the bottom of the mural. In the bottom-right corner, leaning into the last note, her brother Terrance.

The entire effect made Dana speechless. Her father's face, his likeness, spread four feet tall in a lifelike recognition that filled the room with his spirit and vision.

“I…I don't know what to say,” she whispered, barely able to contain herself and the myriad of emotions threatening to unravel her composure. “Thank you…I'm in awe. Truly.”

Then she gave him a hug in front of everyone—something she would have never done three months ago with Mark, or anyone else in the Blue Note. She regarded herself as private and reserved, not quite approachable by men, but friendly enough. Now she had no qualms about a public display of affection for a man who held her heart in the palm of his hand…and didn't know it.

They parted and she took another lingering look at the mural, smiling. She gave Cardelle a fond hug, as well, thanking him several times for his artwork. She'd treasure it forever.

Card shyly patted her shoulder, then stepped back.

“Now I guess it's my turn,” she said, walking to her saxophone on its stand. Her backup musicians that she'd called earlier in the week to join her tonight—drummer, clarinetist and double bassist—had arrived and she waved the guys onstage. They took their positions, loose, limbered and ready to jam.

Mark and Cardelle stepped down onto the main floor, Mark's gaze never leaving her. She felt momentarily self-conscious as she took her instrument. The song's tune was heavily nostalgic, and Mark wouldn't know its title. But she'd selected Benny Goodman's “Goodbye” to play. Mark wouldn't know the tune, but the emotion to the song said everything in her heart.

She hated to say goodbye.

As she closed her eyes and let the music flow through her, she blocked out what tomorrow would bring, and only thought about this night. This last moment with the man who'd changed her. Forever from this day, she'd know that even after loving and losing her father, it was okay to grieve, and that she had so much to be happy about. Her days could be spent reflecting on the past with joy rather than sorrow.

In her own way, she'd done this, but she'd never been able to really let go. The mural, and the new look in the Blue Note felt like a new beginning.

The smooth song flowed through her nimble fingers, melodic and sweet. Each note moved through her breath as she created the sounds.

When the song ended, she lowered her saxophone to cheers and applause. Mark's eyes locked into hers, and she didn't blink. They stared, each lost in the other with unspoken thoughts until the band broke into an upbeat syncopation and they snapped things up while she exited the stage.

People enjoyed the music and the bar took on a life of its own. But Dana didn't see much around her. Her entire being focused on Mark. On walking toward him. When she'd reached him, he took her hand and simply said, “Let's get out of here.”

 

D
ANA DIDN'T WANT TO TALK.
She was all talked out from months of conversations with Mark. She'd simply wanted to absorb quiet in a private place and the best idea she had was Mark's condo.

It had seemed cliché to ask him to bring her here, but
she hadn't wanted to sit in a restaurant or go for coffee. All she wanted was to be close to Mark and enjoy these last stolen minutes.

They'd entered the condo, set their things down and Mark had asked her if she wanted a glass of wine. Quite honestly, she already felt drunk just by his proximity. She'd declined, walked to the view at the sliding glass door, then opened it to stand on the redwood deck.

“Cold?” Mark asked, drawing up behind her.

“Not too bad. When the sun goes down, the temperature can drop like a rock. Days are getting shorter.”

Sunset came late in the summer and as fall approached, the hours of daylight were growing shorter and shorter.

His strong arm came around her, the contact fanning the growing fire within her. He settled his hold on her waist and his solid chest pressed against her back, scalding her through her knit shirt like a brand. She leaned against him, fighting the urge to turn around in his embrace.

She breathed deeply of the night filled with the scent of ocean, woodsy flowers and pungent moss. All day, a thick moisture had hung in the air like a wet towel. There was a crispness to the night, several visible stars in a sky that had begun to fog over.

Mark made no effort to move away. And neither did Dana. A delightful shiver ran through her at their touch.

He slid his hands down her waist, tracing the curves of her hips over her jeans. Then he captured her hands and hugged her arms around her, his hands over hers.

The chill in the air brought a coolness to Dana's burning lungs. She breathed in deeply, inhaling the night
and the man beside her. Clean soap and an aftershave, a musky scent that intoxicated.

“We shouldn't have come here,” Mark breathed next to her ear.

She knew what he meant, and she knew exactly why she'd wanted to come here even though she hadn't admitted the truth until now.

“I want to be with you,” she replied, the meaning clear. She couldn't face him, but his intimate hold over her left no room for reason. She'd done all of that prior to arriving.

She had made her choice.

“I want to be here, in your arms, with you, enjoying us.” She turned toward him, slipping her arms around his neck. “I want you to kiss me.”

Her honest admission suspended between them, and Mark's face hovered over hers. “Come inside. It's cold out here.”

He took her hand and she followed him in. He closed the sliding door, then pulled the cord on the sheer curtains and turned down the lights. The fireplace had a switch for the gas to light a flame, and Mark brought the hearth to life with a soft glow.

“Let's sit by the fire,” he suggested.

In front of the fireplace, Mark gathered all the pillows off the sofa and made a place for them to lean against. Once she'd settled in, he lay on his side next to her, his arm extending to brush her hair from her shoulder.

As Dana faced him, she felt as if she were floating on a cloud of uncertainty, of longing, of desire. This would change everything. Her feelings would be turned inside out from this moment on, and it would be harder than
ever to let him go if she made love with him. But if she didn't, she'd always regret not having this part of him, of them, to remember.

There had never been anyone else to evoke such a response from her by a mere touch. She stared into Mark's eyes as firelight caught in them and she saw her desirous feelings mirrored in his gaze.

Without thinking, she pressed her palm to his cheek, and stroked him with her thumb. She marveled at the roughened skin so unlike her own. The contrast made her pulse skitter. She ran her fingertip down over his mouth to his square jaw. She felt him tense under her touch and she drew away thinking she'd bothered him. He captured her hand in midair and brought it back to his face.

“You keep doing that and I am going to kiss you. And once I start, I'm not going to stop.”

“I don't want you to stop,” she whispered, and framed his face with her other hand.

The strong barrier she'd tried to build between them toppled with her words. Mark brought his lips down on hers with an urgency that sent her senses reeling. His mouth was firm yet pliant, yielding to her. He cupped the back of her head in his hands to draw her closer. She moaned and he deepened the kiss.

Dana felt as if she were as hot as the fire, closing her eyes and melting next to Mark. She moved her fingers over the muscles of his broad shoulders, playing with his shirt's fabric.

The erratic beating of his heart moved against her own. She kissed him with a need that almost frightened her. She controlled the kiss, gently plying open his firm lips with the tip of her tongue. She sought the entrance
of his mouth where he tasted sweetly of mint chewing gum. Her actions caused him to groan, drawing her closer to him, digging his fingers into the slope of her shoulders and grinding his mouth harder on hers.

She felt lost, dizzy and swirling in a wave of sensations that were building, demanding to be quenched.

She wanted to feel every part of him.

“Please…” she whispered on his lips.

“Dana…”

Her name, spoken, said volumes. He was giving her one final chance to change her mind.

“Please,” she murmured, ignoring every ounce of reason she'd ever had.

Mark removed her shirt, then pressed the weight of his torso over hers, weaving his fingers into her hair. He kissed her with light easy strokes, taking her lower lip into his mouth and running his tongue across the velvet sweetness. He grazed the hollow of her throat. The sensations Dana felt made her weak and radiated a fan of heat throughout her body from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. It swirled and centered on the place between her legs. She wanted him there.

Mark pulled away from her only for a moment as he removed his shirt and unbuckled his belt to slide out of his jeans. His chest was broad and hewn with muscles, hard from physical labors. Her hands slid unabashedly up his bare chest and she reveled in the texture of the tautly stretched skin. He was all male, so handsome. She fingered the line of coarse hair across his chest and slowly outlined his nipples. Mark's breath caught in his throat.

He made fast work of removing her bra and jeans, then her panties. Momentarily self-conscious, she bit her lip.

“You are
so
beautiful,” he said, brushing her bare skin at her collarbone. Her coloring was darker in contrast to his, and he was intent on gazing at every inch of her naked flesh. “Beautiful.”

As he cradled her next to him, she felt the full flush nakedness of his body beside her.

She had to bring up a subject that she found uncomfortable, but necessary. She'd never make the same mistake twice and no matter how awkward, she had to say it.

“Mark…I need my purse. There's something I have to get.”

Without question, he reached behind his head, then handed her purse to her. She nervously dug for the protection inside.

One surprise baby was enough for a lifetime for her.

“It's not that I was thinking about it,” she stammered. “But I didn't want to be in the middle of something then have to ask about it and then you have to—”

“Shh.” His fingertip came over her mouth. “I understand.”

The mood between them slightly chilled and she found the situation difficult, but Mark brought her close and held her for the longest time, stroking her back and the skin that curved across her hip. Finally, his palm rested on the swell of her butt.

Languid and relaxed once more, she kissed him and they fell back into the moment. Hands skimmed, mouths touched, fingers explored. Nothing was forgotten to be loved on their bodies.