“YOUR HOUSE LOOKS JUST like ours.” The young girl’s voice came from the kitchen along with the sounds of the patio door sliding open and an umbrella being shaken out.
What were they doing here? Marin frowned. Her mother had promised she’d babysit the Harding kids where they belonged. At the Harding house.
From Marin’s position, stretched out on the couch in the living room reading—devouring, might be a better word—another one of Missy’s romance novels, she couldn’t see the three, but she could hear them. All morning, as a warm, late summer rain had been drizzling down, she hadn’t moved off the couch except to eat, drink and use the bathroom. Now, she wondered if she shouldn’t head upstairs in an effort to maintain this uncharacteristic sense of tranquility.
“I hadn’t noticed until now, but our house does look a little like yours, doesn’t it?” Angelica said. “Except you have a fireplace.”
“That rain makes me thirsty,” Wyatt said.
At that, Marin smiled. Rain always made her thirsty, too.
Marin’s mother and Missy both appeared in the entryway to the living room. Missy was holding a clear plastic storage box filled with what looked like art supplies.
“I thought we agreed you’d be watching those kids at their house,” Marin whispered.
“We did, and I will,” her mother replied. “Most of the time. But I wanted to do a messy project with them.”
“So you’d rather destroy our kitchen,” Marin said. “Why don’t you go over to Missy’s?”
“Jonas is getting the boys down for a nap and we didn’t want to keep them awake,” Missy explained. “What have you been doing all day? I thought you might stop by to visit.”
“Reading.”
“All day? You? Lying on the couch?”
“Miracles do happen.” CNBC was surprisingly quickly losing its draw on her.
“Well, just keep reading,” her mother said. “We won’t disturb you. I promise.”
Famous last words. Marin returned to her book. Within seconds, she felt eyes on her. Both Julia and Wyatt stood in the archway to the kitchen watching her.
“Are you reading?” Julia asked.
Desperately trying to get back to it. “Yes.”
“My mommy liked to read, too.”
Oh, God. “Did she read to you?”
“Every night.” Julia frowned. “My daddy doesn’t like to read, though.”
“Nope.” Wyatt shook his head.
Marin didn’t want to care about the problems these kids were going through, but as if a weight was pressing down on her chest, her heart ached all the same. She refocused on her book, hoping they’d take the hint.
“We’re going to make something for Carla,” Julia said.
“So she won’t forget us,” Wyatt added.
“Okay, we’re ready,” her mother called from the kitchen. “Come to the table, kids.”
For the next half hour, Marin lay there, half reading, half listening to what was happening in the kitchen. A large part of her wished they’d leave, a small part of her somehow enjoyed the commotion, and, surprisingly, there was even a tiny part of her that wanted to join them.
Eventually, that tiny part won out. Closing her book, she went into the kitchen. “Oh, my God,” she murmured, her eyes widening in horror. Colored rice, feathers and all different shapes and sizes of pasta noodles had spilled onto the floor. Paint and glue had dribbled onto the table. And glitter was stuck to everything, everywhere. “Look at the mess you’re all making.”
“I know.” Missy grinned. “Isn’t it great?”
“No, it’s actually not.” Marin picked up a colored pompom that she’d almost stepped on. “It’s a mess.”
Julia held up a frame made from wooden Popsicle sticks. Loose ribbons and glitter fell to the floor. “I’m going to put a picture of me in here and mail it to Carla.”
“Me, too!” Wyatt’s eyes sparkled as he held up his frame.
She had to admit it was a thoughtful thing to do for both the kids and Carla. “Who’s going to clean this mess up?”
“I think you should,” her mother said, chuckling.
Marin raised an eyebrow at her mother.
“You know what your biggest problem is, Marin?” Missy cocked her head. “You’ve never been a kid yourself.”
“Well, that’s not entirely true.” Their mother looked from Missy to Marin. “You had quite a whimsical nature when you were very young. Do you remember the plays you two used to put on for me?”
“What I remember is Marin always getting the good parts,” Missy said. “She was the fireman while I had to be the damsel in distress. She got to be the princess and made me, not a horse mind you, but a donkey.”
Marin laughed. “But you were so good at braying, Mel.”
Missy glared good-naturedly at Marin.
“I loved listening to you both write the lines and make the sets. You were quite artistic, too, Marin. Do you remember those watercolors you used to do?”
“I remember,” Marin murmured. She’d absolutely adored painting, and yet she hadn’t picked up a brush in years. “Why? Why did I change?”
“I have no clue,” Missy said. “But you turned sixteen and turned into a by-the-numbers stick-in-the-mud.”
“Oh, it didn’t really happen overnight,” her mother said. “You started working for your father here and there. Slowly, but surely, as you matured, I guess your priorities changed.”
That made sense. She’d enrolled in an after-school painting program in junior high and taken several art classes in high school. Once she’d gotten into college, though, it seemed she never had time for those liberal arts classes.
As if she was curiously listening to their conversation, Julia quietly set aside her finished frame, went to the rain-spattered patio door and looked outside. The next thing Marin knew, the young girl had opened the door and was putting her arm outside. She grinned as raindrops accumulated on her skin.
“All I remember is when you babysat on Friday nights,” Missy went on. “You wouldn’t let me sneak in any TV shows or movies Dad had on his taboo list, you made me and Max go to bed exactly at our bedtime, you wouldn’t let me have a candy bar if I didn’t finish all my supper, and you stood next to me in the bathroom with a timer set for five minutes when I brushed my teeth.”
“I did do all that, didn’t I?”
“You were more strict than Dad.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry, Marin.” Missy wrapped her arm around Marin’s shoulder. “I want you to get in touch with that long-lost inner child.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” Marin chuckled. “But Wall Street has a way of smothering inner children.”
“So revive her,” her mother said softly. “Take your father’s tapes out of your head and listen to your own.”
Suddenly, Julia turned toward Angelica. “Can I go outside?”
“Oh, good heavens, it’s raining.”
“So.” Julia shrugged. “It’s warm rain.”
Her sister thought Marin was a stick-in-the-mud and her own mother thought Marin had lost her priorities. Maybe they were both right.
“I want to go outside,” Julia said.
“Is there lightning?” her mother asked.
Marin went to the patio door and looked up into the sky. “No. No lightning.” She’d always wondered what it would feel like to walk in the rain. I do remember how to have fun. I can let go. Without giving it a second thought, she walked outside.
“Marin, you’re going to get soaked,” Missy said, laughing.
“Isn’t that the point?” Marin put out her hands and spun around as the fat, wet drops hit her head, arms and shoulders, drenching her in minutes.
“Can I go, too?” Julia asked.
Wyatt came to stand beside Julia. “Me, too?”
“Marin, are you sure there isn’t any lightning?” Angelica called.
“No. Just rain.” Marin opened her mouth and put her face up to the sky. “Warm, wet rain.”
“Okay,” Angelica said, smiling. “Go for it!”
A moment later, both Julia and Wyatt squealed with delight as they stepped outside. Laughing, Wyatt grabbed her leg and wiped his face on her jeans. Julia took Wyatt’s hand and pulled him out into the yard. Before she knew it, Marin was running through the grass and jumping in every puddle she could find. She was wet, a little bit chilly, and she couldn’t remember having felt this alive for a long, long time.
“THE BAYSIDE CAFÉ IS completely finished?” Adam asked one of his foremen over his cell phone as he walked home in the rain.
“Yes, sir, and Newman’s will be finished in the a.m.”
“I’ll do my walk-throughs after lunch tomorrow.” He already knew they were still behind on the library and Duffy’s, so there was no point in beating that dead horse. “Have a good night,” he said, wrapping up the call as he headed up the sidewalk to his house.
Adam shook out his raincoat, hung it out on the porch and walked through the front door. There were no lights on inside the house and all was silent. For a moment, he was more than a bit concerned, but then he remembered the Camdens were a well-known family. Angelica wasn’t about to run off with his kids. “Hello?” he called out. “Anyone home?”
When no one answered, he walked into the kitchen and found a note on the table. Angelica and the kids were over at her house working on an art project. He was thankful for the opportunity to let his head clear. It’d been a long day.
He walked over to the kitchen window and saw the lights on in the Camdens’ kitchen window. Angelica and Missy were standing at the patio door laughing. But what—
He followed the direction of their gazes and found his kids skipping through a small river running through the far side of the backyard. His first instinct was to call them inside and give Angelica Camden a piece of his mind. They were going to catch a cold. What a mess, cleaning up those wet clothes. Was it lightning out?
Then the sheer joy on their faces registered, and he couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t often he saw his normally reserved children let loose like this. It was good to see them laughing, to see them blissfully happy for a change. Then he noticed Marin out in the rain. For a moment, he watched the three of them interact. Although Julia seemed to keep her distance, strangely enough, Wyatt seemed to really like Marin.
And no wonder. Marin, for her part, looked as though she was having as much fun as they were. Kicking the water with her bare feet and splashing him. Chasing him around the yard. Her hair was plastered to her head, but her face, wet and glowing with life was the prettiest thing he’d seen in many, many years. She turned her face to the stormy sky and spun around like a child.
Suddenly, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her clothing, a white V-neck T-shirt and faded low-slung jeans, clung to her like a second skin, and it was clear that sweet creature splashing in the rain was no child. She was a voluptuous and curvy…woman.
His smile slowly disappeared as a jolt of awareness spread through his body like a shot of an old single malt whiskey, warm, strong, heady. He wanted to feel those curves. That skin. Those wet lips. He wanted to hold a woman in his arms again, but not just any woman. He wanted this one. He wanted—
I want.
The realization that his body was firing to life again after all these years stunned him motionless. He’d completely forgotten what it had felt like to be a man, to feel raw desire course through his veins. He was alive. He was still alive.
Marin caught him watching her through the patio door, and the look on her face said she understood exactly what was on his mind. Even more astounding, though, was her reaction to him. Instead of being embarrassed or indignant, she was right there with him every step of the way. Instantaneously aware of him, wanting back. She licked her wet lips, and her mouth went slack. Her gaze homed in on him, his face, his body. Then, as if snapping out of it, she steadied herself by reaching for the trunk of the nearest tree.
No. He couldn’t do this. He had no right to feel this way. Mentally shaking himself, he grabbed several clean towels from the bathroom and opened the patio door. “Julia! Wyatt!”
“Daddy!” Julia stopped and waved to him. “Come out. It’s fun.”
“Daddy, Daddy!” Wyatt yelled. “Get wet with us.”
“Oh, no. You two had better come inside now before you catch cold.”
“Ahh,” they both groaned.
“Come on, guys.” Marin came to the door, but the kids kept playing in the rain. “I’m sorry,” she said, slightly out of breath as she ran a hand through her wet hair. “The rain is warm, but I hope you don’t mind the kids getting wet. They were over at our house doing a craft project with my mom and we… It was just kind of spur-of-the-moment.”
“No apologies necessary. I’m glad they had a good day with your mom. And you.”
Water dripped off her nose and eyelashes, and his gaze was drawn to the rivulets of rain trailing down her cleavage and the lacy outline of her bra under the wet, translucent cotton. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to strip those wet clothes right off her.
They stood there for a moment, neither saying anything, only the soft sound of her breathing filling the silence. Suddenly, he wanted so badly to kiss her, to feel her, to hold her. As if she could read his mind, she let go a low sigh and moved toward him, her mouth slightly parted.
“Marin, don’t,” he said. “You don’t know—”
“Shh.” She spread her hands on his chest, suffusing his core with warmth. Then she moved slowly toward him and kissed him. Softly. Her touch so light, so sweet.
It was at once both the strangest and the most wonderful feeling to have her warm, wet lips touch his. So different from Beth. Her taste. Her smell. The feel of her. He closed his eyes and drank in the sensations. “I’ve never kissed any woman other than Beth,” he whispered against her mouth. “In my entire life.”
“Never?” She drew away slightly. “But that—”
“Shh,” he whispered, kissing her again. “I like it.” The wetness of her shirt under his hands registered, and he realized he’d gripped her shoulders and pulled her tight against him. She wasn’t nearly close enough for what he wanted—
“Daddy, that was so fun!”
Adam jolted away from Marin only a second before the kids came running inside.
“You should’ve come out with us!”
“We got so wet!”
Confused, he glanced at Marin. She looked as dazed as he felt. “Here.” He handed her a towel. Then he turned away and focused on the kids. On and on, they chatted and animatedly described the rain, their day, and all the while Adam barely heard a word they said.
All he could think about was Marin still standing too close beside him. That the front of his shirt felt wet where her breasts had pressed against his chest. Of the drop of rainwater falling from the end of a strand of her bangs and landing on her cheek. Her skin was so clear, so soft-looking, it was all he could do not to use the water droplet as an excuse to reach up and touch her again.
The kids wound down and dried themselves off and an awkward silence filled the kitchen. “By the way, Marin.” He cleared his throat. “Could you tell your mom that I’m interviewing nannies? Should have someone here in three to four weeks.”
“Sure,” she said, backing away. “Well, I should go.”
Yes, she should leave. Now as a matter of fact.
“Thanks for the towel.” She handed it back to him.
“Bye, Marin,” both kids called.
Adam couldn’t seem to find his voice and she ran out into the rain. All these years, he’d been able to go about his business, day in and day out, not thinking about sex. He’d fooled himself into believing desire was all a matter of control and that he was a disciplined man. Now he realized his mistake. All these years, he simply hadn’t been tested. No amount of control was going to keep him from wanting Marin.
Well, he might not be able to stop himself from wanting her, but he could—he would—stop himself from doing anything about it. After all, it was his fault—his fault—Beth had died. He should’ve taken better care of his wife. He should’ve done…something, anything to save her. But he didn’t. He’d failed.
So go ahead. Want away, you fool. Torture yourself to death if it makes you happy. That’s not going to change anything. You still can never let yourself have her. Never.