Marco's Redemption (24 page)

"I didn't much care for it either, Marco," she returned lightly, obviously knowing exactly what he was referring to.

"We've got to do something about it." His gaze was steady as he studied her, trying to get a glimmer of what she was thinking.

"Like what? Put a hit out on the Kennedys?" she asked, tongue-in-cheek.

"It's not just the Kennedys--"

She cut in immediately. "It damn sure is! They're the only ones I've met, out of all the people you've introduced me to, who were involved in the fuck-fest you were part of."

Piercing shame, along with shock, ran through him.
She knew it had been that bad?
"Fuck-fest?" he asked her tightly.

"I don't know what you call it. Trading partners--screwing everyone--whatever."

"Okay. We'll call it a fuck-fest." He looked away from her and then slowly back again. "Let it stand at that. But that's not what I'm talking about."

"What, then?" she asked, more quietly now.

"I'm referring to every fucking guy out there who wants to get his hands on you!"

"Nobody's getting their hands on me."

"But they want to. They want to get in your goddamn pants!" He couldn't contain the jealousy that burned through his veins.

"So? You don't think every single woman out there wants to get her claws into you? Christ, Marco. Have you looked in a damned mirror? You're hotter than hot, richer than sin--"

He interrupted her. "I don't want anyone else. All those other women? They can get fucked. All I want is you." His tone was hard and unequivocal.

Marco's impassioned admission wasn't exactly a declaration of love, but she'd already known he cared for her, cared deeply. But she didn't know where he was going with this. She believed him earlier when he told her he hadn't been paying attention to Nora Kennedy. She could see it now. What had sent her running to the powder room earlier had been a misunderstanding on her part. Now that she was thinking clearly, she knew his sole focus would have been on her. If there were other men in the room, especially Mathew Kennedy, Marco watched her like a hawk.

She didn't mind. It was his way. Why he thought every man was interested in her was another question entirely. Marco wanted her, so he figured every man must as well. It was just one of his jealous quirks. She'd learned to live with it; it didn't really bother her. In fact, since he'd never uttered the
love
word, his jealousy gave her some form of comfort.

She answered him now. "And all I want is you, so please stop worrying over this."

"I can't." His gaze was piercing.

She met his stare. "What do you want, then?"

He spread his legs wide and leaned down with his elbows on his upper thighs, his hands in a steeple. "Hear me out before you say anything." He took a deep breath. "I think if we got married I might not be as stressed about this shit."

Her eyes widened and her heart began racing so fast she could feel her blood ping-ponging from her heart through her veins and back again. Pleasure and a sharp sense of relief spread through her as she tried to get her throat to form words.
But had she just gotten a marriage proposal uttered in the same sentence with the word shit?
It didn't matter. She'd take it. Her mind was whirling around her, a loud buzzing going on in her brain.

She didn't answer quickly enough and he began arguing his case. "If you'd only gotten pregnant." He ran his hand through his hair leaving it a ruffled mess. "I prayed like hell you'd be pregnant--you know--that time we screwed up in my office. If you'd conceived all this shit would be over by now. You couldn't have turned me down, we'd have a baby and I wouldn't be constantly scared shitless you were going to waltz off with some other guy."

Natalie's heart completely stopped. What kind of emotion had he been hiding from her all this time? It was as if a switch had been flipped, and suddenly, she didn't care about protecting her heart from him. She just wanted to know. "Marco--"

He ground his teeth together and she could tell he was preparing himself for the worst. "Yeah?"

Natalie closed her eyes, took a deep breath and asked the question that she prayed would change her life in a glorious way. "Do you love me?"

He let out a puff of air and ran his hand through his hair again with fingers that shook. "Jesus Christ, Natalie. Heart, body, and soul. More than life itself."

She stared at him sitting there, only an inch away from panic, and decided to put him out of his misery. She got up from her seat and fell to her knees in front of him. She lifted her eyes to his and gripped her hands over his. "I've loved you forever, Marco--and I don't want you to be stressed." She smiled softly. "So yes, I'll marry you."

His sigh of relief was palpable but she didn't have time to dwell on it, because he began kissing her as if he'd never let her go.

Epilogue

Seven years later

"I think it's time." Marco tried to make his voice sound stern and determined, because by God and all that was Holy, he was going to get his way this time.

Natalie shifted the baby from one hip to the next and stirred the sauce on the stove. "Do you now?"

He paced back and forth. "You need help, Natalie. Three kids and one on the way--"

"What do I need help with?" She put the spoon down and picked up a pink stuffed whale and handed it back to her four-year-old who played with plastic utensils at her feet. Their six-year-old daughter played quietly on the kitchen computer.

"You don't need to be standing on your feet all day for one thing. It's too dangerous. For you and the baby. The doctor said you need to rest. This doesn't look like rest to me." His eyes glanced around the room that somehow, she always managed to keep semi-tidy.

"I feel good," she said as she walked in front of him on her way to get the plates from the cabinet.

He grabbed her elbow and stopped her. "I know, baby, and we want to keep it that way." His words sounded agonized, even to himself, but damn. She needed to stay healthy. Not just for herself. For the new baby she carried. For the kids. For him.

He'd fall down and die if anything happened to her.

Natalie turned and gave her husband her attention. He looked pained, and she knew he'd finally hit his breaking point with this. "Is this one of those times when I'm supposed to do as you say?" she asked him lightly.

He clenched his mouth tightly. "Yes," he said through gritted teeth.

"And what is it you want?" she asked.

"A cleaning service--supper delivered every night until at least six months after the birth. And groceries delivered again, for a while. And you. Sitting on your butt."

"That's it? That's what you want?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

"That easy?"

"I want to make you happy, Marco. That's all I've ever wanted."

He pulled her into his arms and hugged her and the baby close to him in relief. He kissed one forehead and then the other. "You do, Natalie. God knows you do." He leaned his forehead against the top of her head and rocked her in his arms. "You always have."

The End

###

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Here's an excerpt from a book I'm working on. To put you in the scene, our young hero is eighteen and our heroine is fifteen during this encounter. But never fear, they do grow up.

Copyright Lynda Chance

Try as she might, Hannah attempted to stay away from the small strip of fencing that separated the border between the McIntyre and Turner lands. But almost every afternoon, when the weather allowed, she climbed on one of the four-wheelers and drove the fence line until she ended up at the place that overlooked Turner land. She did this for weeks and never saw anyone.

And then one day, she hit pay dirt.

Josh was working on the old well house that stood twenty or so feet over the fence line.

She saw him glance up when he heard the hum of the engine and nerves tightened in her stomach as he stood to his full height and turned toward where she approached the fence. She’d been waiting for this, no matter how much she lied to herself, and when he began wiping his forehead on his shirtsleeve and walking over to the fence, she let the engine idle and waited.

She couldn’t read the expression on his face, but she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that said it wasn’t good.

He came directly in front of her, and stood on the opposite side of the barbed-wire fence, his brilliant green eyes running over her. She stayed silent and concentrated on the tic in his cheek, and tried to calm her raging heartbeat.

His words when he spoke were low, controlled, and as smooth as whiskey. “I’m thinking this can’t be a coincidence, princess.”

Embarrassed by the truth, Hannah immediately thought to deny it, but she didn’t want to lie. She remained silent as she tried to think of a response that wouldn’t completely humiliate her.

She waited too long and he began to remonstrate, “I kind of had the idea I’d already made myself plain. Maybe you didn’t understand?” His words were low and heated and even though she heard the controlled anger, his voice washed through Hannah like cold water on a hot summer day.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to softly apologize.

Josh continued to stare at her without speaking, and then in a rush of movement, his booted foot stepped on the second rung of barbed-wire and forced it down as his gloved hand simultaneously pulled up the third rung, and that easily, in a move that ranchers had been using for decades, bent down and slid unscathed through the treacherous wire and stood in front of Hannah.

He pulled the leather work gloves off one at a time and stuffed them in his back pocket. Then he reached out and cut the engine with a twist of the key.

He stood over her where she sat on the cracked vinyl seat of the four-wheeler, her body turned slightly to his. He was so close she could see the beads of perspiration on his face and smell the heady, delicious aroma from the sweat that drenched his t-shirt. The masculine combination was almost more than she could stand.

Her eyes started to slip closed in a sharp, shocking, agony of arousal.

They flew open again when she felt his rough fingers on her chin.

His eyes glittered down at her, his nostrils flaring.

“Hannah baby, we have to get this straight between us. Maybe I should have spelled it out better. Do you know anything about the deadbeat asshole who calls himself my father?  He’s always drunk. He’s in and out of jail--all the time. The sheriff watches me like a hawk because he thinks I’m just like him. He expects me to cause trouble one way or the other.” His thumb caressed her chin gently in direct opposition to the fierceness of his voice. “Now what do you think the sheriff would do if I suddenly took up with the fifteen-year-old town princess?” His eyes glittered down at her, giving her a moment to digest his words before his hand tightened on her jaw once again and he continued, “You need to stay away from me. Don’t make this harder on me than it already is. You don’t know what it’s doing to my insides--knowing I can have you,
but I can’t.
” His fingers unclenched from around her jaw and then became caressing once again. “You understand?”

Hannah tried to answer. She licked her lips and opened her mouth to speak but the words stalled again as Josh’s eyes fell to her mouth and his fingers tightened on her face.

Her throat closed up and no words came.

His eyes tangled with hers and seconds slipped by until an agonized, ferocious look crossed his features and he bit out, “Repeat after me, princess.
Josh wants me
.”

Shock and heat hit her system and she gasped.

His fingers shifted, slipped into her hair and his voice hissed out, “I’m serious. Repeat it.
Josh wants me.”