Summertime Dream (23 page)

“I’m fine. Just an annoying cut. I didn’t have a big enough bandage here and decided not to mess around. Unfortunately, the emergency room was busy with more serious cases and took a while to get to me. Nothing to worry about. Have you been here all morning? The yard looks great.” She wore a summery, sleeveless turquoise plaid blouse and khaki shorts, and she’d piled her hair in an untidy girlish knot and little wisps were curling free. With her looking so sweet and worried, his determination to talk tough wavered.

“I was in a weeding mood.” Tension flickered over her face behind her wavering smile. “I figured I’d keep busy while I was waiting for you. Then Frank showed up—he’s a good real estate agent and a friend of Joe’s—and did all the looking around he needed to do and he said give him a call later this afternoon and you can get everything set. Then I ran home for a shower. I had some ideas gel for my story while I was weeding. So when I got back here to wait for you, I started typing. I love when the scenes just flow. Of course, it’s all a first draft mess, but I’m getting the bones of the story down. I finally figured out why her cousin despised her so much and it makes perfect sense because of the problem with the hero’s father. That made such an incredible difference.”

He nodded vaguely. “That’s good.” She went on describing her breakthrough, but he just couldn’t follow the details of her edgy ramble. How to confront her? Gently? Blunt? Sidestep? They should probably sit down inside. Start with a glass of wine. He struggled to make his voice casual. “Come on inside and let’s have a drink.”

“Okay.” She looked at him, brows pinching again. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

No. Yes. Maybe not. Nothing that taking you to bed for the next week wouldn’t solve—

No, not going there. They had some serious talking to hash through before that could happen.

After pouring two glasses of wine, he led her into the sitting room, and nudged her to sit with him on the sofa. He waited for her to take a couple sips. “We need to talk.”

Margie’s smile faded under a tumult of emotions flitting across her expressive face.

He took a swallow of wine. He couldn’t let her, or himself, back out of this. They had to get everything out in the open. Now. “Why didn’t you tell me about your heart problem?”

She flinched and looked away. “Who told you?”

As much as he’d like to throw Joe under the bus, he wouldn’t. “You expected to keep a secret in this town?”

A choked laugh broke from her, and her shoulders slumped. “I suppose not.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She still avoided meeting his eyes. “Because it’s not a problem anymore. The doctors fixed it. I’m perfectly healthy now.”

What more was she hiding? “Tell me, everything.”

“What does it matter? I’m fine! I should live a normal life like everyone else. I’m not fragile! I can do what I want. I can sky dive, run, have kids, whatever I want!” She took a sharp swallow of wine.

“Sky dive?” he blurted. She wanted to sky dive?

“Well, I don’t want to sky dive, but the point is, if I want to, I can.”

And kids...a rush of crazy emotions heated him. Did she want them? Or were they like sky diving?

And what did he want? Years of single life, building his business, a family had been pushed off to maybe, later. The career-focused women in his life had made it clear children would be an unwelcome interruption to their plans and goals, and he’d always thought he’d agreed. Besides, none of the relationships had ever gone far enough for the issue to become a point of negotiation. But now…

A family with Margie...He could, they could, he wanted. The deep acknowledgement dizzied him. “Okay. But why didn’t you tell me?” Damn. Think. He could press and maybe push her away. Or back off and lose her for ignorance.

His dad’s voice boomed through him.
Always best to pull the bandage off clean
.

He winced. Press ahead. “What is it that you’re not saying?”

Her pale face worried him, her lips pressed bloodless, knuckles white where she gripped the glass. “It took open-heart surgery.”

His throat tightened against the sick twist of fear.
Oh, shit.
He swallowed hard. “
A heart defect
…
They fixed it.”
The gravity of what she’d endured hit hard. He’d assumed medicine or something less invasive. Not major surgery, not that at all. Grabbing at his rattled wits, he pressed on. “So? What else matters but that you’re healed?”

“There’s a scar. It’s...ugly!” Pained tears filled her whisper.

“That’s why? In the kitchen. You didn’t want me to see. You think that I’m that shallow?” She didn’t trust him. Despite the wrenching hurt of that, he kept his voice soft. “You think I’m going to hate something that saved your life. You think I’m going to hate something that let me meet you?”

Her gaze remained locked on her clenched hands and her wounded reply cracked out, “I don’t let
anyone
see. I’m tired of people staring. Tired of people talking about me. I couldn’t deal with it again.”

Again? “What happened?”

Her shoulders shook. “I thought he loved me. We’d been together forever. We were engaged, planning our wedding, and moving to Dallas. Then he took one look and said sorry and walked out of my hospital room and out of my life.”

The wrenching ache in her voice tore at his heart. “Then he was a damned asshole. He’s not worth a moment of your time.”

“I loved him.” Her whisper cracked.

His mind made the leap. She didn’t have to say the asshole’s name. He’d met the guy. Eddie, the not just high school ex. There’d been far too much tension and guilt in that encounter at the restaurant to be the old residue of a high school breakup. Too much fresh anger and pain raged in her brother.
Last year
…More pieces of the puzzle merged. Christopher would lay good money down that old Eddie had hooked up with Jennifer before Margie’s surgery.

“I’m sorry. But if he could do that to you, he didn’t deserve your love.” He set aside his glass. He nudged her to face him. He had to forge on here. No more hiding. “I’m not that guy. Listen. A scar doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re alive and healthy. When I look at you I see a beautiful, strong, courageous, intelligent, and creative woman.”

She laughed bitterly. “How on earth am I
strong and courageous? I’m scared of bugs and mice, for heaven’s sake!” She downed the last of her wine and set the glass on the table. “Scared of tiny bug-eating bats!”

That snap rising in her voice cheered him. Way better than the wounded whisper.

He laced his fingers into her hair, cupping her head. “That’s what I see in you. You are beautiful.” He softly touched his lips to hers. She flinched, but he continued. “You are strong.” Another kiss, stronger, drawing her closer. “You are courageous.” Some stiffness eased from her body, allowing him to ease her back against the cushions, her lips yielding under his. “You are intelligent and creative and organized.” He deepened the kiss, slow and hard, pouring in his unspoken plea for trust. Her breath caught and she shivered. “You are amazing to me.”

Please, let me say the right things for her.

“Let me prove myself.” He stroked her cheek and trailed his fingers to caress her throat. Brushing his lips over her mouth, he freed the first button. “I
won’t
turn away.”

He touched the second button and gave a second coaxing kiss.

She clamped a hand over his, staying him.

He allowed her the pause, but kept her in the kiss, tracing his tongue over the soft fullness of her lips, hating how she trembled and how unnecessary it was for her to hide herself from him.

I don’t let
anyone
see. I’m tired of people staring. Tired of people talking about me.

The modest clothing made clearer sense now. Perhaps not so much as to hide the visible scar, but a shield against notice. A shield against remembering a betrayal.

“Do you know how much I love those dresses of yours with all those buttons just begging to be undone? Sexy as all get out. My favorite’s the blue one that’s all little pearls down the front. I’d start here…” He pressed his lips to the delicate notch between her collarbones.

A little hiccupping sigh, and her restraining hand fell away.

He slipped the second button free.

You can do this, honey. Just trust me.

As he caught the third button, she made no move to stop him.

The shirt placket remained unparted, still shielding her. He wasn’t rushing this. He would do whatever he must to prove himself. Maybe she wasn’t fragile physically, but...she was so on edge, he could screw this moment up so easily. First, he wanted her to remember the times she’d trusted him, remember the pleasure she’d found before in his touch.

“I’d imagine...how I would undo each one, and touch you. Like this.” He slipped the button free and he cupped her breast, but still over the plaid cotton, stroking his thumb in easy circles. “You’re so soft in my hands.”

Slow and slow. He kept his lips playing over hers, coaxing with easy presses and nibbles, continuing the gentle caress over the taut bud of her nipple. Her arching response to his touch and kiss raised his hopes.

Trust me.

****

Another button gave way.

Eyes squeezed shut, Margie turned her face from his tender kiss, unable to stop shaking, unable to watch Christopher uncover her.

Worse, unwilling to stop him.

She struggled to focus on his sweet husky words and his soothing sensual touch, but images of Eddie’s sinking, nauseated expression, his face closing off, his turning away when she’d needed him
most
burned in her mind like acid.

On his sole visit to the hospital after her operation, he’d walked into her room, unexpected, not even visiting hours, at precisely the wrong time, the stapled seam down her breastbone exposed, raw and shocking. He’d stood hovering between the doorway and her bed. Eddie hadn’t even touched her, hadn’t even held her hand. She’d been too sick to call out for him, but not so drugged that she mistook the guilt and rejection in his face.

Button after button, Christopher steadily slipped each mother of pearl oval free.

And now...She couldn’t bear...A coward, she was a coward.

The last button. He parted the shirt, the fabric slipping aside from her shoulders. The scar revealed. No more hiding.

Her breath hitched, caught. She despised the hot, slow tears slipping over her cheeks.

An eternity of silence except for the panicked pounding of her repaired, healthy heart.

Then, a kiss, feather light, tender, touched the scar.

A soft sob escaped the knot in her throat. She should be stronger than this.

“Aw, honey.” A second kiss and then he cupped her cheeks, his rugged hands gentle as he coaxed her to turn her face. “Open your eyes.”

How could Christopher think her strong? She was vain and foolish and weak. She swallowed hard, fighting to drive Eddie’s face from her mind.

“Look at me, honey.”

Forcing herself to obey, she found Christopher’s beautiful green eyes brimming with gentle concern. His rugged face was quietly stern and without one single drop of revulsion or pity, as she should have trusted.

“I’m not turning away. You’re perfect to me.” He laid his hand over her scar solemnly, as if feeling for her anxiously tripping heartbeat. “I’m sorry you had to endure this.” He skimmed his hand down to cup her breast, grazing his thumb over the thin white cotton. Pleasure pierced through her upset and her nipple peaked even harder.

If only she’d worn her pink lace bra. But she hadn’t imagined being undressed by him today after gardening. She swallowed the sob rising in her throat. Oh, vanity...

He pressed another soft kiss to her scar. “But for this we would never have met.”

Her mind spun with the logic of his words, what she knew to be true, but she had been too enmeshed in the upsets of her life to acknowledge. She shivered, softening under his touch, aching from his gentleness. She’d been so wrong to let fear seize control. He hadn’t turned away.

“But for this, I would have never had the best weeks of my life.” He brought his mouth to hers, cruising his lips over hers. “I wouldn’t have the honor of knowing the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met.” He nipped at her mouth, coaxing her to open to him.

She sank shivering into his slow easy kiss, grateful for the excuse to avoid replying.

As he continued caressing her breast, his voice roughened. “You’ve changed my life.”

And how her life had been changed. She’d suffered a life-jolting scare, she’d lost Eddie, but she’d gained and grown from all the trauma—challenges, far better to think of them as challenges. A healthier life, strength to make her own decisions, and a new independence she wanted to explore. Before her health crisis, she’d been so blissfully unaware, so sheltered by her family, then by Eddie. She’d never had to be anything but a child. Never hit a challenge alone, never had to stretch her wings alone.

Eddie, the boy she’d loved, had never grown to be the man she needed.

And now, Christopher. Christopher hadn’t looked away.

Certainty whispered in her that he would never have left her alone and scared in that hospital room. Wasn’t it time to release the past and grab onto the now? Carpe diem and all that?

“Oh, Chris…” She caught onto his shoulders and surrendered to her desire, covering his mouth hungrily. He’d stripped her of the last foolish reason to stop.

This time his kiss consumed her, with all the fire and flash they’d danced around before. This time she didn’t hold back. He fell against the couch pillows, carrying her with him to sprawl over his lap, his hard arousal unmistakable beneath her. Her instinctive ride against him seared her with an electric jolt of need. She gasped, breaking the kiss, self-conscious and needing more.

“Yeah, honey.” Smiling, rocking easy beneath her as he unwound the band confining her hair, letting it tumble to her shoulders, and combed his fingers through the tangled curls. “So beautiful.” Then, tracing down to cup her breasts, he rasped his thumbs over the tight sensitive nipples still shielded behind white cotton. She arched, writhing against him, meeting his rocking thrust of hips.