The Confession (24 page)

Just waking up, Mark sat down beside her, his hair still messed from sleep, his face scraggly, his chest and feet bare. She laid her head on his shoulder and felt the butterflies in her stomach begin to dance as she recalled last night. He’d kept his word, and picked up exactly where they’d left off before the auction. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been incapable of keeping her hands off someone. Simply sitting next to him she was mentally removing his clothes.

“Where is your mind this morning? You have the naughtiest look on your face,” Mark asked.

“I was remembering last night, and wondering if I could talk you out of working today. I’d really like to climb back in bed and pretend it’s not close to noon.”

“An offer like that is going to make me change my mind about driving up the coast this afternoon.”

She jumped up, her coffee sloshing over the rim of her cup as she bounced up and down with excitement. “Like a drive in the Mustang up the coast? Like, only you and me, sunshine and loud music?”

“I take it you no longer want to go back to bed?” He bowed his head and stuck out his bottom lip.

Grabbing his hand, she pulled him up and threw herself into his arms. “I’m so excited.” She kissed him soundly on the lips. “Hurry and get dressed, we’re wasting the day away.”

An hour later they were zipping down the highway, the wind billowing through the open windows, both of them singing along to the radio. It was everything she’d imagined the moment she’d first seen him behind the wheel of his car.

Pulling up at a public beach, he parked the car, and held open the door for her to climb out. He grabbed a blanket and a picnic basket from the trunk before they headed down the path and onto the beach.

Reaching the sand, Aimee pulled off her shoes and tossed them down. Unable to resist, she ran toward the water, waving her hands in the air, beckoning for him to join her. The water was cool against her bare legs. She dug her toes in the sand letting the waves roll in and bury her feet.

She felt her lungs empty with a whoosh sound when Mark picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, taking her deeper into the ocean.

“Mark, don’t you dare!” she yelled, slapping him playfully on the back. He pulled her forward like she weighed nothing at all. Balancing her on his arms, he held her away from him, dangling her over the waves. “Don’t!” She tried to sound stern, but laughter bubbled from her throat.

“Or you’ll what?” he said and dipped her closer to the water.

She reached down and cupping her hand, she splashed him, getting more water on herself than him.

He narrowed his eyes. “Why’d you have to go and do that? Now I have no choice but to toss you in.”

He swung her forward and she knew he had every intention of following through with his threat. She grabbed his neck and held on, throwing him off balance, and sending them both into the next wave.

She shot up, wiping the salt water from her eyes and combing the wet hair from her face. “I can’t believe you did that,” she sputtered.

“I can’t believe you made me do that.”

“I certainly did not,” she replied, placing her hands on her hips.

His eyes clouded over and his amusement abruptly stopped. Eyeing her up and then down, he stepped over to her. Crushing his mouth to hers, he ran his hands down her back, grabbing her at the waist and pulling her body to his.

He tasted like salt water and peppermint. Every nerve in her body seemed to surface in reaction to his sudden change in mood. She dug her hands into his wet hair and pulled his mouth closer, burying herself in his kiss.

He pulled back, and leaned his forehead against hers. “Follow closely behind me. I want to be the only one eyeing the winner of this wet t-shirt contest.”

Looking down at herself, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Today was the wrong day to wear white,” she mumbled.

He kissed her again, before taking her hand and walking with her back to the beach. Standing like a shield in front of her, he grabbed their belongings and led her up a steep path that jutted out from the beach.

They passed a No Trespassing sign and he informed her Emily owned the property they were on. “It’s more of a hill, but it’s private up here and the view is incredible. We spent a lot of time here when I was young.”

Aimee continued to climb, happy there were wooden boards creating stairs at some of the steeper points. “Why would Emily buy a hill?”

He laughed. “Nathan bought it for her right after they were married. I think it was meant to be one of those quirky romantic gestures he was known for. Supposedly, he told her that if he couldn’t buy her the beach he’d make sure she had a great view of it.”

What an understatement that turned out to be. Aimee’s jaw dropped open as they came to the crest of the hill. The ocean surrounded them on three sides, and the direction the shore veered off, hid any sign of the public beach below, making it feel like they were alone on a deserted island. Seagulls flew overhead, and the smell of salt water perfumed the air.

There was a hammock to the left, positioned between the only two trees, and a fire pit had been dug into the ground, surrounded by sand. She turned to Mark and watched him spread out the blanket.

“It’s so beautiful.”

“So are you.” He walked over to stand next to her.

She kissed him, and spun around in a slow circle, taking in the view again. Spotting something in the sunlight, she walked over to the trees holding the hammock. She ran her fingers over the heart carved into the bark. Inside it were the initials, ES and NT.

Her eyes filled with tears. “Emily and Nathan?”

Nodding his head, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocket knife. He placed the blade against the bark of the tree, and seemed surprised when she reached out her hand to stop him.

“This is their tree.”

He smiled and kissed her sweetly. “You’re right, it is their tree.” Walking around the hammock he stopped in front of the other one. “This one is ours.”

Her heart soared as she watched him lovingly carve a heart into the bark, and write ML and AM inside. She knew this day would be forever etched in her memory like the initials in the tree.

Her love for him had grown beyond anything she’d ever imagined. The thought of living without him wasn’t something she could comprehend. She needed to tell him. In fact, she’d started to tell him a million times, but in the end, decided to keep it to herself until she was positive of the truth. Luther told her she’d receive the DNA results any day, so she chose to simply enjoy the time she had with Mark until then. Now, she could only hope he loved her enough to understand why she’d waited.

Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her again. She shivered and leaned in closer.

“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” His eyes sparked with desire.

He gently laid her down on the blanket and removed her wet clothes, brushing his hands along her skin. She reached up to remove his shirt. Grasping her hands, he moved them over her head, pinning them against the blanket and holding them securely in one of his larger ones. His eyes roamed over her body. She wasn’t sure if the goose bumps rising on her skin were caused by the cool air hitting her wet skin, or the look in his eyes.

Once he’d removed her clothes, he continued to watch her while he slowly discarded his own. Leaning over her, he brushed a loose curl from her forehead and bent down to kiss her lips. “I’ve imagined you here, just like this, since the first time I kissed you.”

“I think I will remember us here, just like this, for the rest of my life.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her, running her hands along the smooth crevice of his back, her hands memorizing every inch of his body. Her excitement grew as his muscles flinched at the gentle touch of her fingertips. Feeling his restraint slipping, she arched her back in breathless anticipation. Never taking their eyes from one another, they made love in the warm sunlight.

Aimee yawned, and stretched. Feeling luxurious, she kicked her feet out from underneath the covers and lifted her arms above her head. Smiling peacefully, she rolled over to cuddle up to Mark. He was gone. She sighed, and picked up the note he’d left on his pillow telling her he was playing in the dirt this morning and he’d see her at lunch.

Rolling onto her back, she watched the rising sun create colorful splashes on the bedroom wall. She closed her eyes recalling the feel of the sun on her face as she lay snuggled against Mark in the hammock at the beach. It felt like they were alone, on their own little piece of the world where nobody else existed. She was beginning to wonder if it was illegal to be so happy. Reaching over, she pulled his pillow to her chest and buried her face into the soft cotton, inhaling his scent. No, it wasn’t illegal, but it was temporary.

It was only a matter of days before she’d have the results and know the truth. Rising from the bed, she pulled his discarded T-shirt over her head and wandered into the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

What would happen then? She wanted it to be true that Emily was her birth mother, but what about Mark? What would that do to her relationship with him? Would he ever forgive her for not telling him? Would he even try to understand? Would Emily be glad her daughter found her way home after all these years?

She sipped her coffee and walked to the window. She spotted him across the yard, shoveling large piles of soil to a nearby wheelbarrow. He bobbed his head and then threw it back, dramatically belting out the next note of the song playing on his iPod.

Her heart fluttered when he turned in her direction like he sensed her watching him. She raised her hand to wave at him. Amusement bubbled from her throat when he bent at the waist and took a bow. His eyes seemed to grow serious for a minute before he blew her a kiss, and turned back to dig out another shovel full of dirt.

She placed her mug back into the sink, made the bed, and scooped up her clothes before dashing the short distance to her cottage. Her cheeks flushed when she heard him whistle. Reaching behind her with her only free hand, she tugged at the t-shirt riding up her legs and ran around the last bush between her and the front door.

She spent the next four hours finalizing the details for the birthday party. It was coming together perfectly, and she felt confident Emily would love the final results. She needed to spend some time with Mimsey this afternoon and work through the appetizer menu. She’d actually insisted on doing all the food preparation herself, using her own recipes and a staff of helpers she chose personally.

“Nobody else knows what Ms. Emily likes but me. It will only be perfect if I do it, so there is no more discussion,” she’d snapped when Aimee had insisted they hire a catering company.

Aimee tried repeatedly to remind her she was supposed to be a guest at the party and not working, but Mimsey only held her hand up and turned her face away, dismissing any further conversation.

Crossing the foyer, she headed toward the kitchen to fix some lunch for herself and Mark. She could hear McKenzie’s laughter and Mimsey scolding her.

“How do you think you’re ever going to find a good man if you can’t even boil water?” Mimsey clucked her tongue.

“That’s why they invented the microwave. So that spoiled, pampered, rich princesses can boil water for themselves,” McKenzie replied. “Besides, if he’s truly the man for me, he will be a fabulous cook and I won’t have to worry about it.”

Mimsey picked up the bowl she’d been adding ingredients to, and began to stir vigorously, mumbling under her breath with every circle of the spoon.

“Is this a bad time?” Aimee asked as she walked into the mine field.

“Don’t be silly. Come sit by me.” McKenzie pulled out the stool beside her. “Mimsey and I were discussing the importance of a good man knowing how to cook.”

Mimsey scowled. “Part of the reason our Marcus is so happy is because Aimee knows how to cook.”

“Is that so?” McKenzie straightened her back and placed her hands on the counter before turning to her. “Aimee, do you believe that your cooking is the reason for Mark’s happiness and wellbeing? Do you think if you suddenly stopped cooking he’d break off the relationship? Do you think if you never entered the kitchen again you would spend the rest of your life alone?”

Aimee stuttered, not sure if she was actually supposed to answer the question, or the questions, being asked.

“I wouldn’t leave her if she didn’t cook, Mother.” Mark slinked into the kitchen, with a smirk accenting his dimples and brightening his eyes. “But I would leave her if Mimsey would stop playing hard to get and finally agree to run away with me.” He kissed Mimsey on the cheek and reached around her, dipping his finger into the bowl.

Mimsey’s cheeks turned red and her scowl instantly changed into a smile. Batting his hand away, she said, “Marcus Lee, behave yourself.” She moved the spoon faster through the batter in the bowl. Looking up, she added, “Isn’t it true that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?”

McKenzie rolled her eyes and Aimee rested her chin on her palm feigning total interest in his response.

“I’m completely outnumbered here and they have me surrounded. Why would you put my life in jeopardy by asking me that question, Mimsey? I thought I meant something to you.” Mark placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head dramatically.

“What question is that?” Emily asked as she walked into the kitchen and climbed onto the stool on the other side of Aimee.

“Mimsey thinks I haven’t had a man because I don’t cook,” McKenzie informed her.

“Then she asked Mark if the way to a man’s heart is actually through his stomach and we’re still waiting patiently for his response,” Aimee added.

“Oh, this ought to be good.” Emily leaned her chin on her palm, copying Aimee’s waiting pose.

“I can’t win this one. So I’m going to take the honesty route. I don’t think the inability to cook is a deal breaker, but I think a home cooked meal, especially made for you, carries some weight in gaining a man’s attention, especially if it comes with wine and candlelight.”