Beyond Desire

She didn’t wait to hear the rest of it, but fled to her room, tears stinging her eyes.

“Proud of yourself, Marcus?” Luke asked him. “Are you touched in the head, man? You don’t recognize a good, honest woman when you see one. How could you do that to her, when you know how badly she’s been hurt?”

Marcus braced his elbow against the wall and supported his head with his hand. “Lay off, man.” He shook his head, perplexed. “No, I’m not proud of myself. I don’t understand why it’s so difficult for me to behave naturally with Amanda. I do know that I can’t let her establish any contact with Amy. If Amy starts to like her, she’ll be hurt when we go our separate ways—as you and I both know we will—and she’s already suffered too much. Having her mother reject her is enough.”

“You go right ahead and fool yourself. Where do you keep the bedding? I’m going to turn in. Good night…Oh, Marcus.”

“What?”

“If you’d just try to be your normal self, this would be a peaceful, maybe even a happy home. Amanda is a terrific woman.”

In the quiet house, only the wind could be heard bending the trees as the storm moved off the coast and out to the ocean. Marcus leaned his big muscular frame against the banister at the bottom step and looked up the stairs. How could he have done it, he asked himself. He felt protective toward her, had from the very first. Yet he’d deliberately hurt her when she was only expressing concern. You go right ahead and fool yourself, Luke had said. He wasn’t fooling himself, he argued to himself, he was protecting his child. And he didn’t want any involvement with Amanda or any other woman. He had taken care of Amy by himself since she was two years old, and he would continue to take care of her. “I should have asked him how he knew Amanda was a terrific woman after a mere half-hour conversation with her. Oh, hell. I know she probably is, and that’s the trouble,” he murmured, as he forced himself to climb the stairs.

He saw the light shining beneath her door and paused. She’d been up there nearly three hours, he estimated, and was still awake. What had he done to her? Marcus struggled against his deeply ingrained ethics and lost the battle. He raised his hand, uncertain of his move and, for the first time, knocked on Amanda’s bedroom door. He did it not knowing what he would 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 into trouble.” She raised one eyebrow, and he watched her smile slowly evaporate as she examined his face. “You heard me.” He said it gently, but in such a way that she couldn’t mistake his meaning nor his sincerity. She went into her room and closed the door.

Amanda hung her peignoir in the closet, opened the window wider and went to bed. She had a sense of unease as she turned out the light on her night table. She might have undertaken more than she could handle. She sensed trouble if she didn’t watch her step with that sleeping giant across the hall. She didn’t doubt that he could be trusted, that he was a gentleman, but she had to admit that her feelings for Pearce Lamont never even approached what she’d felt for Marcus a few minutes earlier. If she had to live in that house with him for a year…She let the thought slide and, as though to banish it altogether turned over so quickly that the bed seemed to swirl around and she had to grasp the side of the mattress to steady herself.

Reminded that she hadn’t had any options before he agreed to their arrangement, she told herself to be thankful and not grumble; being susceptible to a man like Marcus only meant that she was female and human. Even so, her reaction to him had surprised her, and it was he who had stopped that almost kiss when she should have done it. But she had no intention of congratulating him on having such self-control; men had never found it impossible to withstand her charms. “I’m safe from him and from me, too,” she told herself unhappily just before she started counting sheep.

Chapter 3

Ten days after he’d stopped himself from kissing Amanda, Marcus made another trip down to earth and had another hard battle with his feelings. Having just arrived home, jolted by the sound of what seemed like thunder, he raced up the stairs four at a time, feeling as if his heart had fallen into his stomach. What on earth was that noise? He had walked into the front door and gone to the kitchen for some thirst-quenching iced tea. The doctors had told him that Amy was progressing even more rapidly than they had anticipated, and that her therapy would start in a week, so he had come home feeling more relieved and more lighthearted than he had in more than a year. And now this. Where had the noise come from? Something had literally shaken the house, or at least it had sounded that way.

“Amanda! Amanda!” Where was she? He knew she was at home; she hadn’t even put her car in the garage. He ran into her bedroom and found it empty. He listened, heard the water and momentarily froze. If she was in that bathroom with the door locked…He tried the door, pushing it with full force as he did so. “Amanda? Amanda, my God. Are you all right?” He took in the incredulous scene. She lay on her back in the tub, the shower rod, curtain and part of the wall were in the tub with her, and water from the shower sprayed her face. Quickly, he turned off the tap, cleared the debris away from her, lifted her naked body into his arms and stumbled into her bedroom, where he lay her gently on the bed. Then he raised the edge of the bedspread and threw it across her body.

“What happened, Amanda?” He leaned over her. “Amanda, answer me!” His gaze roamed from her head to her feet. “I’m taking you to the hospital. You may have done some damage. What were you doing? Amanda, talk to me!” She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came. He dried her body, got a pair of slacks and a robe from her closet and dressed her as best he could, but by the time he got her in the car, her continued silence had alarmed him. He was thankful that the trip to the hospital was a short one. What if she lost it? He paced the floor in front of the emergency room for what seemed like hours, until the resident opened the door and beckoned him.

“Mr. Hickson, your wife is mildly in shock, but otherwise all right. We’ve given her some medication, and here’s a prescription for some more. Give this to her at bedtime, as instructed. Nothing is broken, but she’ll probably be sore tomorrow. And I’d see that she stays off her feet for a few days.”

Marcus fought to make himself ask that most important of questions. In the end, he didn’t ask it. He just said, “She’s three months pregnant, doctor.”

The doctor smiled, seeming to understand his reticence. “Yes, I know. That’s why she reacted this way. Going into shock, I mean. She was afraid that she had injured the baby or that she might lose it. But she’s healthy and strong so, as I said, she won’t have more than a little soreness. Just keep her in bed for a few days.”

Marcus nodded. “May I see her?” He wanted to see for himself that she was all right. Since he’d met Amanda, he had never known her to be speechless, and he didn’t think that was a good sign. He stood looking down at her, so small in that ridiculously ungainly, utilitarian hospital gown. She opened her eyes and lifted her hand to touch him.

“Thanks for helping me and bringing me to the hospital, Marcus. I was so scared. I slipped while I was taking a shower. Then when I grabbed the shower curtain rod for support, it came out of the wall, and I lost my balance and fell. I was scared to death that I was going to lose the baby.”

“I’m glad I was there. Actually, I had been in the house less than a minute when I heard that noise. The doctor’s going to let me take you home, but only if you promise to stay in bed for three or four days. Will you?” He contemplated the strangeness of the situation. He wanted to comfort her, to hold her, but that wasn’t the kind of relationship they had. Unable to resist at least a minimum display of tenderness, he caressed her cheek and had the pleasure of seeing her turn her face fully into his palm, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

Marcus combed her still damp hair with his fingers, and put her robe on her while they waited for the wheelchair, as the hospital regulations required. And he was very much aware that, within the past hour or so, his relationship with his wife had undergone a subtle change. He wheeled her out to the car, lifted her to put her in the backseat and stared down at her in wonder. He’d had her naked in his arms and had been so alarmed that he’d barely looked at her. That thought brought a half smile from him. Must be getting slack in testosterone, he told himself derisively.

Marcus laid Amanda on her bed, realized it was still damp from his having placed her there earlier, and took her into his room instead. He noted with considerable amusement that she offered no objection. Didn’t even seem concerned. Where was the feisty, independent woman who had turned his life around?

He fluffed the pillow, propped it against the headboard and let her rest there. “Your bed’s wet. Stay here while I get some fresh sheets and try to make it presentable.” When she didn’t answer, merely nodded, Marcus straightened up and looked down at her. There she was in his bed, completely agreeable to his every suggestion, soft and submissive. A woman who could tie him into knots with her big black eyes or her come-here-tome smile. Who said he didn’t have a sense of humor? Marcus threw his head back and roared with laughter.