Chapter Two
“Damn, Angie,” he whispered a few minutes later.
His eyes closed in pure bliss. He then swallowed a hungry groan when she wrapped her arms neatly around his waist. Maybe she needed him, or just this moment.
Mark didn’t know, didn’t really care why, because he knew he needed her. Badly. He had for so long, warning himself to step away from the dangerous edge of the taunting cliff over and over, everyday, knowing once he plunged off into the unknown, he’d never be able to return to what they shared right now. And he feared the consequences almost as much as he wanted to take that last forbidden step.
There was a little-girl-lost quality in her voice he’d never heard before when she broke the companionable silence moments later.
“I ran into Neil at the store last night.”
He hadn’t expected that. She rarely talked about Neil now that they were divorced. Steeling himself to be the friend she needed, he relaxed. If she wanted to talk, then it was that much more she let out of her system. She’d been bottling up quite a lot lately, and he’d been without a clue.
“What happened?” he coaxed, nuzzling his chin against her in comfort, in support, in contact.
She drew a deep breath, and he felt the way her body molded into his. Comfort was slowly turning into its own kind of torture. He usually didn’t touch her so much, but tonight he couldn’t seem to help himself, too worried to keep his usual level of restraint in place around her.
“I got to meet his new wife.”
He bit off the expletive on his tongue before it gained momentum. “Already? The jerk just couldn’t wait, could he?”
“Apparently not. She’s lovely, sweet,” she muttered into his shirt, “tall, big boobs, blonde, darker than me…” She rattled off all the pertinent facts like a shopping list. Then bitterness made her voice harsh. “She’s five months pregnant.”
His arms tightened when she dug her forehead into him, despair weighing heavily on the air. He touched her with his cheek with the last bit of news. His heart broke a little knowing how deeply that alone cut her.
Angie had wanted a baby for several years, and added on top of the fear that she was dying, it was just one more devastating blow to her world. His arms tightened without thought, bringing her closer.
Mark counted the months absently, then snarled silently in anger, adding a few more curse words. “Shit! What the hell? You haven’t been divorced five months! It was final less than three months ago.” He knew when to the day. A rage he didn’t know he possessed leaped to life.
“I know,” she replied, devoid of emotion, sounding wrung out.
“That ass was cheating on you?” Her husband had ignored her, what was happening to her, then put her aside like yesterday’s newspaper? Mark wasn’t a violent man. He avoided irrational anger, but if Neil had been around… He curved himself around her to protect her more because he knew what he would have done if he wasn’t holding her. Envisioning the punching long bag at the gym, he counted it off in his mind instead. Calming but not nearly as satisfying.
She rocked against him, her forehead pressed to his sternum. “I don’t want to talk about it, Mark.”
“But Angie—”
“No. It isn’t worth the effort, and he isn’t worth the oxygen. It’s over.”
After a few strained, quiet moments between them, Mark told her, “You know, I do have some friends at the gym. Big, big friends.” His grin was wide, begging for retribution. Lucky for him, she couldn’t see it. If the other man had been anywhere nearby, Mark would be the first in line.
“Thanks, but you should probably hold on to that favor.”
“Just say the word.”
“I’ll save it for when I really need it,” she told him.
A subtle shift of her body flattened her breasts into his chest again. The innocent movement made his breath catch. Hard. He arm-wrestled the urge to answer the physical pull she had on him. This was not the right time for any of the fantasies running rampant through his head.
“Thanks for listening, though. I hadn’t realized how much that had been bothering me.” She sighed, snug within his arms, at ease. Probably the most relaxed he’d seen her in weeks. “You’re a good friend, Mark.” She sniffed, burrowing deeper into his embrace. A friend seeking comfort and nothing more.
He cringed at her words. He was through with being the shoulder. He’d been there for her during the divorce, through every stabbing rejection she’d suffered because Neil had, with the sensitivity of a bull elephant, asked for the divorce one night over dinner, as calm as if he were discussing the weather. Except you don’t expect to get a lawyer’s letterhead packet passed with the dinner rolls. She’d spilled her guts not long after that happening when he’d found her devastated and hiding, like today. Like a wound needing drained, she’d let it all out. His estimation of Neil dropped by glacial numbers that day.
Mark heard her pain, heard the arguments she’d given to deaf husband ears. She had entrusted Mark with almost every private thought she’d had in the strong friendship they’d shared over the years. Except, he couldn’t just be her friend any longer. Not if he wanted to stay sane, or ever take a hot shower again. The last few months had been a growing hell of frustration and restraint, fighting himself every step of the way. It was time to make the last fight or walk away.
Her breath whispered through his shirt, tingling the skin beneath those pouty lips where she rested. The way she affected him was impossible to ignore, even though he tried. The edge of that cliff loomed before him. Fear or not, he’d never been the kind to walk away from what he wanted. And right now he knew exactly what he wanted.
It was time if he was going to make his stand with Angie. If it meant finding out what was wrong with her, stopping it, or finding a cure, then that was where he would start.
Smooth skin slid over his palms as he searched her face, following the curve of her eyebrows to slight cheekbones, gliding to delicious, inviting lips.
“There has to be something, some way to find out what’s wrong,” he said, nearly choking on the final implication. “You can’t die.” Just saying the words created a knot that seared and twisted his heart.
After what he had seen moments ago, her skin so red and hot to the touch, her body no more than a rag doll flung across her desk, left no doubt this was serious. The memory would haunt him forever.
He wasn’t going to lose her when he finally had a chance to embrace everything about her. Starting now, he was going to take care of the precious woman in his hands. The way he’d craved, the way he’d yearned to for years.
Standing together with their gazes locked, his arguments waned and his intentions grew fuzzy. Angie had incredible dark and vibrant eyes, like spring leaves. Falling into them, he couldn’t quite remember what he’d been about to say. But he did know what he wanted to do at that moment.
Mark leaped off the cliff’s edge and didn’t even realize it.
Her lips beckoned to him. Mark knew right before he touched them it was ludicrous, but the charge didn’t stop him. He caressed supple, pink lips. Heat ignited between them, spearing him straight to his groin. Everything he’d imagined and so much more was in her kiss. Lust, desire, longing. Sweetness and sin. She molded their bodies together, her mouth fitting his perfectly, and his world shifted. It happened so easily, so naturally, there was nothing else in that moment but Angie.
Mark cursed Neil once more for hurting her, for making her believe she was less of a woman because she didn’t become pregnant, or intimating she was somehow physically lacking. Mark didn’t want to think of all the times he’d secretly pictured her pert, rounded breasts, desiring her, craving to touch and caress, feeling guilty because they worked together. He was only male, but it had always felt wrong. Not even that admonishing truth stopped him. There wasn’t one thing that felt wrong about this now.
Blood rushed through his body as desire grabbed hold and shook him, the long-withheld desires breaking free of his iron control.
Everything about those desires bombarded him at once with her in his arms. The imagined way she would taste on his tongue. The silken smoothness of her skin. Gliding his mouth across the top of her breast, swirling around her full shape until he met her peak. Discovering the weight of her in his hand. Too many nights he’d fallen asleep aching for this woman and all the ways he wanted to please her, love her, adore her. And the man she’d been married to hadn’t even known she’d been ill. Instead, Neil had been a selfish bastard, tossing away the greatest gift Mark had ever known in another human being.
Now that Mark knew the truth about her illness, he wasn’t letting her out of his sight until something was done, and done right, to help her.
Angie was perfect to Mark. Beautiful. He tried to show her how perfect she was nestled flushed against his chest, his fingers loose but holding her face to his, directing her movements. Sips and nibbles escalated to a thrusting passion. He wanted to taste every nuance of her. A roaring, uninhibited need overtook his body, enflaming him, begging for fulfillment. The last tendril of common sense vanished when she pressed into him chest to chest, thigh to thigh, and what was in between became impossible to hide. She was better than perfect. Angie was heaven.
In those few seconds, he fell for her in a way he’d never dreamed, never envisioned. He’d carried feelings for years, but until that moment, he’d never known how much or how deep they went. With her lips pillowing his, her touch hotter than a livewire along every nerve, Mark’s life changed forever.
Angie gasped scant heartbeats into the sweet plunder of her mouth, breaking herself out of his arms. “Mark!” She lifted her shaking hand upward to cover quivering lips. “You— You can’t do that.”
Fearful, he froze. Had he gone too far? Been too forceful? Expected too much? He plowed a hand through his hair, bringing himself back to where they stood. He found himself standing in the basement once more, as much metaphorically as literally. His entire body felt ready to explode, and it had only been a kiss. He groaned a low sound, wary of meeting her eyes, anticipating the accusations and anger he’d find.
“I’m sorry, Angie.”
What he found when he met her gaze was not what he expected, and for a brief heartbeat, her hesitant expression gave Mark hope. He’d taken her by surprise. She wasn’t the only one caught off guard, he thought ruefully, but she liked it. She’d enjoyed his kiss. It was in the new sparkle in her eyes that matched the soft pink on her cheeks. He hadn’t lost his chance. Relief pounded as deep as lust. There was no doubt now that he’d tasted her, he was going to find a way to have more.
She swallowed, the rising beat of her pulse ticking at the curve of her throat. “Just…don’t do that.”
Mark lifted a hand, and she ducked out from underneath. She bit her lip, her eyes wide and uncertain now.
“Angie, don’t,” he pleaded. “I’d never hurt you.”
“I know,” she stammered but leaning away just the same. She slid one more step, then whirled and raced for the doors to the outer hallway of the lower floor.
“Shit.” It slipped out between clenched teeth. She may have enjoyed it—he knew he had—but he’d still screwed up. A purposeful breath filled his lungs, forcing a rational calm he didn’t want to deal with.
Mark needed her in his arms, her soft body lined up with his enjoying the newness they’d found between them. Instead, he waited and when she didn’t return, he had no choice but to follow, but the hallway was empty. He’d give her a few minutes and then apologize profusely.
He shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have let it happen. He’d fought the temptation for years, though it had been easier to deny when she’d been married, but remove the single obstruction, and he was a typical, unthinking, caveman male.
See.
Want.
Take.
Mark chastised himself over and over for the lack of finesse and poor judgment of timing. It was callous of him to take advantage of the moment. The last thing Angie needed was for him to be following her around like a hound dog with his tongue hanging out. Although he’d been feeling exactly like that for a long time, she hadn’t known it until today. He tapped his head in punishment against the metal security door in his hands, then let it slip closed behind him, leaving the utilitarian hallway empty to scuffle to his office. Not a peep filled the lower floor. He left his door open to listen for her. He had to apologize.
An hour passed and he didn’t hear a single sound. Finally, unable to sit on his own thumbs, feeling the guilt burrow into him, he trudged to the basement and was surprised to find her desk cleaned and her chair in its place. She never left on time, much less early. His stomach fell like a stone hanging at his feet. She’d run. He’d have to apologize in the morning.
But Angie didn’t come in.
For two days Mark waited patiently, taking extra time, skipping workouts at the gym to try to catch her, but he seemed to miss her every day. He couldn’t help himself, and he began to worry. He called her at home, but no one answered. The final straw came at the end of the week when Mr. Singleton, the museum curator, informed him she’d requested vacation time and asked Mark to fill the gap if he was needed. The news came as a shock, and it created a raw fear, infiltrating his conscience. Taking off unexpectedly was out of character for Angie.
He rushed to her office and then to the basement, searching every file and cranny for information on why she was gone.
The more he searched, the more his stomach plummeted. It held worry for her, and self aimed anger. Real fear kicked him in the gut not long after he started digging through her research desk. After an hour of hunting for any clue to what was going on, he found the one thing that had the power to make him break out in a cold sweat.
The crisp, linen pages shook in his hand. He didn’t want to believe what he held. He sank into her chair and read. Her will. Completely executed, clipped to a power of attorney. There was also a letter to her mother, a final goodbye. Reading her words for her mother made his heart race painfully. It was a copy, which meant the original was probably with her attorney, along with the original will. He swallowed, slackening in disbelief, tasting cotton balls on his tongue.
Slowing to try to think reasonably, he spotted the drawing of the Anga talisman on the corner of her desk, pinned like a reminder beneath her favorite statue. A mountain lion perched atop a high rock, peering over its kingdom. The animal had a very noble bearing. It was the silent, regal appeal of the pose that she’d always appreciated.
He pulled the page out from beneath its weight and stared at it. Memories about that exact same symbol and what it stood for, what she knew about it, returned to him. At the same time, a sense of disbelief swept over him.
“She wouldn’t,” he muttered, but with a sick feeling swiftly rising, he knew she would. It would be the very thing she would do to push herself above the unknown factors of her illness and what it was doing to her. With her tenacious ability to focus on one thing, it would help her put the worst of her fears behind her, to search for something as elusive as a missing artifact.
After years of working together, he understood that about her without a doubt. It was exactly the kind of thing she would do. He leaped from his spot and yanked out cabinet drawers. Huge gaping holes mocked him. Dozens of her personal files were gone.
His feet dragged him to her desk. Two seconds more and he had another answer he didn’t like. The file of maps was gone. He stood straight, eyeing the vault with trepidation. He feared what he would find, or worse, not find at all.
Physically chilled and numb, his head sank to the cold vault door moments later, finding only the empty case that had held the in-depth information on the talisman. The language interpretations and the legends he’d helped her decipher. Legends and stories that weren’t possibly true, except at that moment, truth held little leeway considering why she’d gone hunting for it in the first place. Distraction. An unhealthy attempt to push her head into the sand.
There was no doubt she’d gone to search for the talisman, a witch doctor’s ploy of magic, nonsense and insanity. He’d had no idea until he saw the entirety of what she’d taken, how desperate she was to not have to deal with her illness. To not have to think at all.
There was no way a mysterious, long-lost artifact of an extinct culture could do anything more than keep her from getting the help she needed. He wasn’t even sure he could get her that help, but he had to try. There simply was no other option.