say. After he knocked several times, she opened it and looked up at him, her wide black eyes reddened by hours of tears. Marcus stared at her, the epitome of femininity in a lacy peach peignoir that covered her from her neck to her bare toes. He wanted her. And the knowledge shook him. He stood there speechless as desire washed through him with such stunning force that he would have left if she hadn’t spoken.
“Marcus…” It was barely more than a sigh, falling off her tongue as if pulled by the force of gravity. His hypnotic gaze bore into her like a sharp drill. He exuded pure magnetism, and the female in her responded to his maleness. She gasped, remembering what she’d felt when she’d caught him watching her right after he and Luke walked in the house, and wrapped her arms around herself for protection as she shivered, rooted to the spot.
“My God!” he muttered, stepping into the room and opening his arms to her. She went into them without a second of hesitation. Her thoughts centered on her need to be held, and when he pulled her to him and cradled her head against his broad shoulder, she moved into him. She relished the comfort of his hand roaming her back, shoulders and arms, caressing her. Zombie-like, she tiled her head back in order to look at him, and he lowered his head. He’s going to kiss me, she thought, and knew that she wanted it. Wanted him. But he stopped and drew back, shaking his head as if in wonder. At her puzzled expression, he pulled her closer and hugged her, then stepped back.
Marcus took her hand and walked into her sitting room, away from that enticing bed. He hadn’t meant to make a move on Amanda, not then, not ever. But his body hadn’t taken his intentions into account. One look at her, red-eyed and miserable, her brown face open and unadorned, and he had wanted her at a gut-searing level. He sat there with both of her hands in his big one, not talking, hardly breathing. Recovering his equilibrium. That had been close.
“I know it isn’t enough to say I’m sorry. We both know you didn’t deserve what I did. I…I hope you won’t hold it against me and that you’ll be able to forget it. I don’t ever remember being so unnecessarily unkind to anyone. It’s been a rough day, and that may account for it; I don’t know. Anyway, I wanted you to know that I regret being rude to you.”
“But you meant it, Marcus. Maybe not so harshly, but you meant it.” He spread his legs, let his elbows rest on his knees and clasped his hands. He knew his response was important to her. But if he told the truth…he had to; he hated lying and liars.
“Yes, I meant it. But I didn’t mean to appear vicious. I know you’re concerned about Amy, but we’ll separate, and that’s it. So I don’t want her to become attached to you.”
Amanda let her hands fall into her lap. As an apology, it was one of the poorest she had ever witnessed.
“And your telling me about her condition would attach her to me?” She was pushing him, but she didn’t care; he deserved it.
“No. Hell, I don’t know. Talking it over with you seemed like the beginning of something that I don’t want.” It wasn’t much of an explanation, and she was tempted to tell him so, but Aunt Meredith had always said that you got more flies with honey than with vinegar.
“It seemed like such a natural thing for you to do,” she said, softly, although she didn’t feel that she should apologize. Oh, the devil with sweetness, she decided, as her anger surfaced. “Any person who knew what that child went through today would be concerned, and you’re old enough to know that. I’m not going to apologize for showing an interest in her. You’re just paranoid, and it wouldn’t hurt you to take a good look at yourself. I was being friendly, Marcus, because I really want us to be friends, but I won’t give my blood for it.”
She got up to dismiss him, then surprised herself by asking, “What happened to make you so wary of people?” That marriage, she thought, and sat back down. “Marcus, what was your wife like?”
“You don’t want to know, believe me.”
“Oh, yes I do.”
“Why, for heaven’s sake? You don’t believe in giving a man one bit of privacy, do you?”
Amanda wasn’t going to be put off. “She must have been exceptional to have driven you to such bitterness. Did you love her so much?”
“I loved her.” He gave her the bare facts.
“Is she beautiful?” Amanda wasn’t sure she wanted to know, because she thought herself plain, but she couldn’t force herself not to ask.
She stared at him in amazement when he laughed, harshly. Nastily. “Beautiful? Helena? Oh, yes, she’s that, all right. Not many women can claim to be the top fashion model on two continents. Oh, yes. Not one processed, glossy strand is ever out of place. Why, the very thought of me seeing her without her famous face made up to perfection annoyed the hell out of her. I still wonder what made her disfigure herself enough to have Amy, and why it came as a surprise to me when she decided that she wasn’t doing it again, no matter how I felt, made certain of that and damned the consequences.” Amanda couldn’t hide her shock, nor her sadness at the obvious strength of his bitterness.
She looked at him then, but spoke mostly to herself. “If I had been in her place, I would have cherished what I had. Some people have all the luck, blessings or whatever you want to call it. And how do they treat it? They practically laugh in God’s face.”
Marcus was sitting beside her, and he had to turn so that he could see her face fully. Her words had touched him more than any statement of intended sympathy ever could have, but when he saw her tears, he had a sense of unease. “Don’t cry for me, Amanda.”
She let the tears roll, as if she hadn’t heard him, but she looked him in the eye and told him, “I never realized that a person could find bitterness to be such a loving, congenial companion.” Then she left him sitting there and didn’t say good-night. But she couldn’t have gone far, he figured, maybe to the middle of her room, before she was back. He sat where she had left him, immobile, contemplating her parting words. The frown that he hoped would discourage further conversation brought another of her big smiles.
“Marcus, you could really use a sense of humor.” At that, he stood up, his imposing physique looming over her. She doesn’t give an inch, he thought, when her smile got broader.
“Why are you suddenly so happy?” he queried, his words tinged with gruffness.
She grinned, her eyes sparkling in a way that he hadn’t seen before. “Because the operation is over, and the doctors expect that she’ll be as good as new. And I’m happy about it, even if you are a grouch.”
“I’m not a grouch, and my sense of humor is as good as the next guy’s,” he informed her. “I’m just a troubled parent. Wait until you get to be a mother. You haven’t worried yet, believe me.”
Amanda regarded him steadily, her face still beaming. “If you’ve got any advice, I’ll gladly take it.” A softer, less defensive mood pervaded him, as he took in her smile, her guileless demeanor and her cheerful warmth. The woman wasn’t beautiful, but she was charismatic, and in that flowing peach gown and peignoir, she was the epitome of feminine softness. A man could get used to that kind of woman. If she wasn’t beautiful, she sure seemed like it. He felt a rush of blood and the swift tightening of his groin and ordered his libido under control. He wouldn’t let her do this to him, he told himself for the second time that night.
His self-control in working order, Marcus grazed her cheek lightly with the back of his left hand and admonished her, “Go to bed, Amanda, before you get
