Package Deal (26 page)

“Amanda?” he whispered in her ear.

“Hm
m
.”

“I thought we were going to have dinner. You said you were going to cook tonight.”

“Oh! I forgot all about that.” She chuckled. “Are you hungry?”

He nodded.

She sat up. “Okay.
Let’s eat!” She pulled
on
a robe and trotted downstairs. He hadn’t mentioned living together. Maybe she should say something. But while they ate, she couldn’t
seem to
find the right time, the right words.
Maybe later.

Sometime before dawn, she woke him and made him promise not to move w
hile she wandered all over his lean, muscular frame
with her hands and her tongue.
After she had brought them both to a peak of heat and desire
, he said, “M
y turn,” and
reciprocated
.

The next
morning, she
snuggled next to him, imagining what it might be like to wake every morning like this, sheltered in his arms, warmed by his presence
, by his touch,
after a night such as they had just spent
loving one another, sleeping
,
and then loving some more
.
If they were married,
she would have this.
B
ut she shied away from
the
possibility.
She sighed and then
murmured, “Marcus, we have to stop meeting like this.”

He rose up on one elbow
, his blue eyes darkening as he gazed at her
.
“Hey, you started it,
asking for a back
rub. And why do we have to stop—meeting—like—this?” he asked, kissing
first one breast and then the other.

She delighted in his attentions.
Finally, she replied,
“I don’t know how many times the Girl Scou
ts will be having field trips,
and I’m not sure I can stand waiting for them to occur so we can be together—like we are now
, like we were last night
.”

He
chuckl
ed deep in his throat
as he
moved closer
. “How long is Cecelia going to be gone?”

“
I pick her up on Sunday at the train station at seven—p.m
.” She luxuriated in the feel of him.

“We have time. Let’s worry about that later.” He resumed his kissing explorations of her body.

When they finally rose from her bed, they enjoyed a joint shower. Over breakfast,
s
he gazed at
him, his
hair still wet and curling at the nape of
his
neck.
No doubt about it. She loved being with him.
But was that the same as loving him
in a forever kind of way
? A part of her
refused to contemplate it, afraid of what might happen
.
Like what had happened with Dylan, her future all planned and then those plans shattered
so suddenly, so completely, leaving her bereft, floating on a dangerous sea in a boat without oars.

He
reached over and
brushed his hand
across
her cheek
, his gaze warming her.
“You about
wore me out last night,
”
he murmured.

“That was my intention,” she replied coyly
. “But you didn’t act worn out. P
erhaps you just need
ed
to eat breakfast. Men seem to need more food than women.” She handed him an apple turnover warm from the oven.

“Could be. I have a question for you.”

“Ask away.” She poured them each a cup of coffee.
Was he going to ask her what she couldn’t agree to?
She
sucked in
her breath.

“How many articles have you finished in the last few weeks—since we started going steady?”

Relieved, she replied,
“Not as many as I’d like. How
about you—and
Ernie Pyle?”

“Two and a half chapters—not enough if I’m to get it done before the end of spring quarter.” He pulled the skin off an orange, popped a segment into his mouth, and offered one to her.

“Then perhaps we should stop seeing one another—no more dates and, uh, other stuff—until each of us can get more wo
rk accomplished.” She arched a questioning
eyebrow in his direction.

He groaned. “Now that I know how insatiable you are in bed, I’m not sure I can stand to wait that long.” He looked over at her. “Your mouth is too luscious not to taste again.”

Before she could finish her turnover, he reached for her and they took turns bringing each other to th
e lip of exquisite anticipation
before tumbling over the edge together. They spent the rest of the day in bed.

Toward evening, she handed him an oversized robe
. “The pizza guy’s going to be here soon. Could you get it?”

“Sure.”

While he nibbled on his second piece of pepperoni, Amanda gazed at him. Her pulse rose as the words she’d been holding back finally tumbled out.
“You’ve never told me about your tattoo, its significance. When did you get it?”

Marcus stiffened in his chair. “Felicity—a woman I used to know. She talked me into it.”

“You must have loved her to have done that. Don’t they hurt—you know—when they insert the needles with the ink?”

His lips were a thin white line, his jaw working sporadically as his hands surrounded his coffee cupin a death grip. He swallowed and then choked out,
“She didn’t love me back.”

“Oh.”

“I should have it removed.” He glanced at her sidelong, as if trying to assess her response to his news.

“I had no idea—that you c
ould be hurt like that.
The not loving you part.
”

He seemed to struggle to give her a tight smile. “I misjudged her. That’s all.” He closed the pizza box when she waved off another piece of pie. His blue eyes took on that
intense look
she’d come to know so well.

“You’re not like her at all
, Amanda. What we had, it wasn’t how I am now—it wasn’t what I want with you
.”
His voice softened into a husky growl.

She nodded and rose to clear the table. So he’d been hurt, too. Maybe that’s why he’d never sa
id he loved her.
Did he?
Would he ever?
She rubbed his shoulder and gave him a quick little hug.

“Want to start the movie you said we would watch?”

He seemed to relax again. “I’ll set it up.”

On Sunday
, Marcus set up his laptop in the kitchen while she resumed her work in what she thought of
as
her cubby under the stairs.
They talked about ideas each had for the summer writer’s workshop during a relaxed l
unch. He insisted on heating up the leftovers from
their previous
dinner while she put together a huge salad they
then
shared.
He left
just
before she had to pick up Cecelia.

Amanda
fought with her emotions when she thought of him in the quiet of the
evening
.
She loved that he seemed to
care about
Cecelia and
that her daughter liked him
.
And w
hen
they talked about their work, he offered suggestions freely
and
always
considered hers about what he was doing
.
She
admitted
to herself
that h
e excited her
—far more than an
y
other man.
And they thought alike—about so many things that were important to her.
Because of that, h
is presence
challenged her to
consider
a future with
him
and the permanence it represented
. A
life alone
, as a single parent,
held
no
appeal
for her
. Yes, she had Cecelia, but in less than a decade, her daughter would be making her own life, increasingly independent of
her
.
Amanda
did not want to live alone
, but she was afraid
.
He’d
asked her to live with him, but he’d
never said the words she longed to hear
…
that he loved her
.
He’d hinted at it, but he’d never said it. Why was that?
Was it only because of what he’d hinted at the night before?
Or maybe because she’d never said she loved him?
W
ere each of them
hesitating because of the lack of three little words
?

She welcomed
Cecelia home and listen
ed
to her
, distractedly,
as she described everything she had seen and done in Seattle before
her daughter finally climbed
into bed and f
ell
asleep
without finishing even one chapter of the book they had been reading together.

Later that evening,
Amanda sighed and rolled over
in her
own
bed, a bed that
now
felt too big
without
Marcus
lying
next to her
. Making love with
him
forced her to imagine what
life with him could be—if she
would only
allow
it
. Still,
she was
frightened to her core.
Being with him, even just walking on the beach with him or enjoying one of Cece’s soccer games with him cheering on the s
idelines made her feel complete,
in a way that was new to her. But s
he
dared
not let him see how she felt about
such
a future
—not un
less
she could set
aside her fears
and feel secure in her love
.

She re
call
ed how she had almost not given herself that chance on New Year’s Eve,
when something, she could not recall what,
had
nearly
prevented her from acting on her desires. It was
a night
whose memory
she cherished,
how he had
so gently and exciting
ly
made love to
her. More telling was how
she felt when she
reluctantly left his bed,
even knowing Cecelia was waiting
for her
at home.
She was on a roller coaster of desire whenever she heard his voice, or felt the warm strength and gentleness inherent in his grasp when he held her hand as they walked along the beach. She had to regain control of her emot
ions, but wasn’t quite sure how,
now that they had begun making love.

She remembered the offhand comments she’d heard on campus about another pair of faculty members and how their relationship had become a kind of ribald joke when it had deteriorated into nasty words flung at one another whenever their paths crossed. If that happened with her and Marcus, would she too become a bad joke among the faculty, the students? She couldn’t bear that.
It offended her sense of professionalism and she worried what that might do to her reputation as
someone
serious about her career.

Maybe she was being overly cautious. After all,
the
t
wo of them
were careful on campus
not to show how they felt about one another.

She
wiped a stray tear from her cheek
. The little things they did together seemed more important when she did them with him. Could others tell how she felt? Cece didn’t question his presence in their life, bu
t Cece didn’t see them together,
except
when they did things she enjoyed.
Her daughter
liked Marcus because he didn’t talk down to her, because he knew about the books she enjoyed reading and was happy to discuss them with her,
and
because he never hesitated to answer her questions.