Riveted (Art of Eros #1) (2 page)

The plane made another jolt and she sucked in a breath as her body tensed. “I’m sorry. It scares me to death. I always have the sensation of falling from the sky.” She made no attempt to move her hands from the armrests. Mara tried to slow her breathing into a relaxed rhythm again, fighting to regain control.

She glanced up at him, smiling sheepishly, trying to distract herself from the anxiety of flying. “I hear a Scottish brogue, or do you just put that on for the ladies?”

Kitten has claws. I always liked a little bite in my women. But this isn’t any woman, is it?

Mac leaned in close. “Do you really think I need to put on an accent to get the ladies? I’m offended.” Mac’s lips curled up to reveal perfect white teeth. “How did you pick up on the fact I’m a Scotsman? Most Americans confuse my accent with Irish.”

“I studied at Edinburgh College of Art years ago in an exchange program. I loved it there. To me, it felt like coming home. There was something very cozy and homey about Edinburgh. Listening to the natives speak Gaelic sounded like a song. Whenever I took the train to London, I got lost in the lavender fields of thistle.” She had a faraway look from the memory that brought a sweet smile. That smile lit up her face and he wanted to make sure he had her smiling as often as possible during his short time with her.

He leaned back in his seat, surprised at how well she had captured the ambiance of his homeland. “Scotland tends to have that effect on people. I grew up not far from Edinburgh. Played rugby and lived there most of my life, but I’ve done a lot of traveling for work. In fact, I just interviewed for a job in New York City and needed a vacation. Decided to head to Mexico.”

He had revealed a little more than he wanted to about himself, but it seemed to come naturally with this angel. The lock between their eyes couldn’t be broken. He sensed something stronger under her levels of bravado and a tug of curiosity had him wanting to find out more. When was the last time he took a real interest in a woman? Warning bells started to go off, caught between wanting to run and wanting to stay. His scattered emotions made him restless, which was so unusual for him. Total control was his thing. Given his line of work, he had to be in control, physically, emotionally, and psychologically. Not when it came to Mara though. She already had him second-guessing himself.

~

Mara’s mind jumped everywhere, trying not to seem like a freak in front of Mac yet being so affected by him. Her senses reeled, not sure if her anxiety was from fear of flying or fear of being seduced by the Scotsman. He invaded her on every level, the way he smelled, looked and sounded.

There were many years of experience to draw on when it came to finding distance from other people who were close to her. In this situation, getting up away from the safety of the seat belt, wasn’t an option.

Why am I reacting this way? I just lost my husband three months ago. I should still be grieving. The pull toward this man is intense, and I don’t even know him. I’ve never felt this before.

The voice of her late husband came back to life in her mind like nails on a chalkboard. A cold sweat began to break out on her forehead.

Stupid girl! Do you seriously think he’s attracted to you? I was barely attracted to you. Pretty face but not much else. You’re broken, remember? No good for any man
.

She remembered why she built the steel wall with rivets welded solidly in place, retreating to that place of safety.

Time flew by as the crew handed out drinks. During the relatively short flight, they discussed things from places they traveled to their favorite movies. The light conversation eased some of the intensity of their connection, which never seemed to waver. Comfort and warmth ebbed and flowed between them with each glimpse and laugh. Mac seemed a little restless in his seat, fidgeting every so often. He appeared as though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stay or get away. During a couple more turbulent times, Mara gripped the armrests and put on a brave face.

The plane landed in Cancun and it was time to disembark. Mac immediately stood to give her room to move into the aisle. As she waited, her sisters shoved their way toward her. They asked if she was okay and if the flight went well. They knew all too well about her discomfort when flying. When she turned around to introduce Mac, she only caught a glimpse of the back of his head. A strange feeling of loss came over her, missing a man she barely knew but who had made his presence known.

Mac needed to get the fuck off the plane before he did something stupid, like ask the name of her resort. She had affected him on every level, in every way, with her words, smile and body. He couldn’t stay still, torn between keeping his distance and wanting to show her exactly how he wanted her. He didn’t do dating. No strings attached, friends with benefits only, was his safest bet. Mac could tell that Marabella wasn’t that type of woman, and his pull toward her scared the hell out of him. It made her rise above any woman he had ever met. If he stuck around, all bets were off.

Heartbreak avoided. Score one for the Scotsman.

Chapter 2

The pebble stone pool deck massaged her feet as she walked to the lounger on the other side of the pool, closer to the ocean. The sunlight danced on the clear blue water, beckoning to her as a soft breeze came off the ocean teasing her by caressing her skin and ruffling her hair. The sun warmed her body just enough to be comfortable, but she continued to be too lost in thought to pay much attention to her seductive tropical surroundings. She appeared like a gray cloud in this picture-perfect backdrop. As she plopped into the poolside lounge chair, she still hadn’t accepted being a widow at twenty-seven.

Warm thoughts of Mac crept in her mind, causing her body to tighten. She rapidly pushed those thoughts aside as other things needed her attention. Mara had a moment of introspection about her life, wondering how the hell she’d reached this point. This latest chapter in her life hadn’t been an easy road and not one she totally understood yet, but thank God for her sisters, Raquelle and Leigha. They were her rocks and without them, she would have completely fallen apart.

Being whisked away to Cancun was a far cry from Greenwich, Connecticut, a world full of money, high-end cars, houses and art. That location on the Gold Coast catered to the elite, old money and new money equally, making Greenwich Avenue a mini Rodeo Drive. She traveled to many places around the world, but it was the only home she had ever known. She and her sisters grew up having the best money could buy, the finest schools, clothes, and social events. Some might call it a sheltered life because she never ventured beyond the protective bubble.

Life could teach some hard lessons, though, and things weren’t always as they seemed. She found that out the hard way. Mara tended to take things at face value without inspecting much below the surface. She wore a naive pair of glasses when viewing the world around her, making it safer, or at least so she thought. However, the time had come to change that train of thought. She needed to stop and take notice of what brought her to this point in her journey.

Being from a family of artists, she inherited her father’s artistic gene for sculpture and an eye for shape. Mara became the third-generation sculptor in the family, a double-edged sword. She loved the way the clay molded in her hands while creating dancers in motion and free-spirited creatures then casting them in bronze putting them permanently in motion. But under her father’s microscope, she endured constant criticism from him. The fact that she was the firstborn and not a boy did not escape her, but instead dragged behind her as a constant reminder. She had studied at RISD, Rhode Island School of Design, earning a Master’s degree from Yale, but those credentials weren’t good enough for her father being a classically trained artist from Italy.

Despite her father’s low opinion of her creations, people liked her works, because the dancers and spirits were beginning to sell. Finally making her own money as a sculptor, she had arrived and was passionate about her artwork. Business was booming. Keeping up with the demand kept her very busy, while she continued to build a clientele who wanted busts done for various reasons. Sometimes, she would create busts of people who came to mind. Before leaving on vacation, she’d been in the process of sculpting the bust of a man who had come to her in a dream. Little did she realize how real that man would become and blow her world apart like a piece of clay in a kiln.

She snapped out of her trip down memory lane as her sisters strolled across the deck of the infinity pool.

“Hey, what are you up to under your big-ass hat?” Raquelle yelled from across the pool. She loved drawing attention to herself.

Mara waited to respond until Raquelle was right in front of her. “I’m thinking about how I got to this point in my life. My husband is dead and I’m sucking on an umbrella drink in Mexico,” she responded contritely.

Leigha shook her head. “That’s a lot to take in considering it’s only your first day of our getaway. Give yourself some time. It’s only been three months.” The lovely Leigha was always the one in control, always so well put-together with a level head.

Raquelle chimed in with her anthem, “But we’re here to parrrr-teee! You need to snap out of it.”

“Yeah, well, I need to figure out what’s happened in my life. I need to make some real changes before I start celebrating.” Mara looked down at her drink while swirling the umbrella in the pink liquid. She wondered how many she would need to consume before it would kill the pain.

Leigha frowned. “What happened was your husband died in a grisly car accident under suspicious circumstances. I mean a body without a head and hands. What’s that about? Then you find out about a five-million-dollar life insurance policy he took out on himself with you as the beneficiary. What was Brock up to? Or should I say into?”

Shooting high-end fashion, Leigha had a unique perspective on life from an outsider’s point of view. She could see things from many different angles. Behind the camera was where she took refuge after a career in front of the camera. Mara always welcomed her views, whether she agreed with them or not.

“Doesn’t that say it all? I, for one, think he was into some pretty shady shit, to say the least. He was always about money and keeping up with the Joneses. Everything was never enough for him. You were never enough for him, that bastard.” Raquelle had the ability to cut to the chase, putting it all out on the table, but this statement was a little alarming.

“Raquelle!” Leigha raised her voice. “Was that necessary!?”

“Mara needs to know. Brock is dead, for God’s sake.” Raquelle turned to Leigha, hands on her, ready for a showdown with attitude.

“What do I need to know?” Mara asked hesitantly, regarding her sisters, the protectors.

Leigha sighed deeply, sitting down on the edge of the lounger facing Mara. “Honey, Brock was cheating on you. I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’s true. Raquelle and I saw him out being very cozy with some Kardashian wannabe. We didn’t want to tell you. You were busy with your openings, and so happy with your success despite Papa’s critiques.” She finished her thought with an exasperated breath.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I had my suspicions about his infidelity. A lot of it was my fault. I don’t blame him.” Mara sighed heavily as a rivet wiggled, ready to pop out. Rivets held together the shield that she built to protect the image of her marriage and her broken soul. Her anger about events in her life scorched that barricade like a dragon’s breath to steel, but it needed to come loose, setting her free. She had been hiding in the darkness for too long. Everyone thought her marriage and life exemplified perfection, hidden behind the facade of the big house and grand lifestyle.

Raquelle’s eyes flashed angrily at Leigha. “There’s no excuse for that cheating asshole. And what do you mean it was your fault?” She snapped her head in Mara’s direction.

“I don’t think I’m exactly wonderful in bed. Brock never seemed satisfied.” Mara cringed at the thought of how things went when it came to sex between her and Brock. The act of sex had only grown worse as time lagged on in an unfulfilled and unhappy marriage. The connection, if there ever was one, broke years ago. She moved uncomfortably in her lounger as she shared this information with her sisters, but she also knew they might have some answers.

Another ‘aha’ moment brought to the conversation by her two lovingly overprotective sisters. Suddenly, sadness, emptiness and loneliness filled her despite their company. The information about Brock’s infidelity didn’t surprise her, but still hit her hard, only confirming what she didn’t want to believe. She lacked in the sex department, not being anyone’s dream lover, that’s for sure. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she tried to rid herself of the disappointment of not being enough for her husband. Latching on to the despair only weighed her down, grounding her to insecurity and inadequacy. Even though it was in the past, old reactions were hard to break. She needed to find a way to push past the wall to find some freedom.

“How do you know it wasn’t his fault?” Raquelle demanded with her hands up in the air. She took no prisoners in the sex department...or maybe she did, tying them up and beating them for good measure like some dominatrix. There’s an image.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about this anymore today. What are you two up to, anyway?” She just wanted to be left alone to wallow in what was left of her pathetic life. Her marriage had been an illusion on so many levels. She didn’t want to face it, but if she was going to come out the other side with some understanding, then she needed to accept everything that happened.

“Raquelle decided we should go deep-sea fishing. She saw some cute guys signing up for the trip in the lobby. You know how she is, the free spirit and all.” Leigha rolled her eyes. “Do you want to come with us?” She already knew the answer.

“No, you go ahead and catch dinner. I’m going to stay here and get some drawings done for some upcoming shows. I’ll see you later.” Her words came out on a strangled choke as she tried to cover up the pain that bubbled to the surface. The combination of being a failure in her father’s eyes and a failed marriage weighed on her chest.

Leigha leaned over, brushing away a stray wavy strand of hair from Mara’s forehead, pushing it behind her ear.

“I don’t want you to spend too much time thinking about the past because that’s where it needs to stay. Focus on the future and where you’re going. Brock isn’t worth another minute’s thought.” Leigha could be so tender and understanding, knowing just what to say.

“Well, I always thought he was a total pig. You never should have put up with his bullshit.” Raquelle announced as if it was all abundantly clear.

God help the man who ends up with that woman. Let him be strong. If she only knew how much of a pig Brock really was, she’d probably go nuclear.

But Mara’s well-rehearsed response was, “Can we talk about this later? You two need to go catch something.” Her faint smile told them she wouldn’t be persuaded.

Leigha and Raquelle strolled through the pristine beige sand to the pier, leaving her to not think about her former life. Yeah, like that was going to happen. The whole encounter with her sisters left her numb, empty, and emotionally detached. The only bright light in her life lately had been Mac. He’d sparked something in her she didn’t quite understand. She would have liked to know more about his dark yet tender and protective qualities, an intriguing combination, drawing her to his flame.

She woke up that morning thinking about the wonderful Scotsman. She stared down at her hand that had the physical memory of their connection. Mara’s body remembered the tingling sensation at his touch as well as the loss of comfort and safety when he left. She felt so alive with him. He gazed at her as if he were studying the marble statue of Venus. For the first time in her life, a man had made her feel beautiful just by looking at her. Brock, the so-called husband, certainly didn’t make her feel attractive in any way; actually, quite the opposite. She had a hard time stopping his negative recordings; his words still assaulted her heart and soul.

Disappointment lingered because she never had a chance to thank Mac for helping her through the anxiety of flying and curious as to why he left so quickly. Mac made that flight a whole lot easier. She didn’t want to forget their encounter, but apparently he did. It made her wonder if she would always be a woman men turned away from. Her pull to him was inexplicable and she was sparked by it. She imagined the sensuality of being with a man like Mac. She would always remember her snippet of time with him.

She started to search through her beach bag for her form of solace. Her conflicted feelings made her sad so she reverted back to her childhood love of a medium called air-dry clay. She made many little figurines out of clay that dried without the heat of a kiln. Eros, her first creation, marked a significant time in her life when she knew she would be a sculptor. He served as her dragon muse. Mara definitely loved him and carried him with her whenever she traveled. He had big, warm eyes and a wonderful smile that always made her smile in return. His arms clasped together, tucked under his left cheek.

She hadn’t made another dragon since, progressing to other things like small pigs, lamb and fish, creating each one to be unique and colorful. Over the years she had made so many that she needed to do something with them. After the donation of one of her bigger free-spirit pieces to the hospital lobby, they asked if she had anything for the children’s wing. That was the perfect opportunity to donate her little creatures. As she handed them out to the children, she saw how their smiles lit up their faces. They seemed to love to touch the little sculptures. That encounter made her feel like she could do something worthwhile. She volunteered once a month to help sick kids make their own creatures to hold on to and take with them. Mara hoped that having their own muse would help them get through their illness. In a child’s eye, making their own little creature was unique and colorful, the two things that seemed to be missing from Mara’s life.

Eros brought so much joy that the time had come to create another little animal to get her through her current rough patch. Examining her small bags of clay, she chose to start with red. She let her hands do the work as her usual mode took over, letting her mind become the blank slate. As she started to mold the clay, her hands were turning it into the shape of another dragon. She took it as a sign of bigger and better things to come. Contentment settled over her body when she worked with her hands. She became lost in the cool touch of the clay. Hopefully, by the end of the day she would have her next wonderful muse, full of potential. She wanted to be open to all life’s possibilities. Her thoughts kept wandering back to Mac and how he stirred something in her that she couldn’t shake off.