Chapter 21

The little restaurant was all too familiar to me, and I remembered the owners well. A little Spanish couple. I avoided Mark's gaze the entire meal and as soon as the returned to the house I excused myself quickly and went to bed.

I followed the pattern the next two days. Mark was upset at my avoidance of him and Glen's efforts to play peace-maker met with violence on Mark's part. He stayed away during the day with Melissa, taking her on tours of nearby cities. But in the evenings he and the blonde stayed close to home while he discussed the company with Vince. It was at the end of one of the endless discussions that I accidentally came across him in the deserted hall upstairs.

His dark eyes narrowed angrily as I froze in front of him, on my way to change for supper.

"Still running away from me?" Mark asked.

"I'm not running." I replied unsteadily.

"Like hell you're not," he returned. "You practically dive under things to keep out of my way lately. What's wrong, Jaime, you think you're so damn irresistible I can't keep my hands off you?"

"Of course not!" I yelled back.

"Then why go to so much trouble to avoid me?"

I drew a breath. "Glenn and I have been busy, that's all."

His face tightened. A cold, cruel smile touched his hard mouth. "Busy? So you finally decided to taste the wine, did you honey?" His voice drew blood. "It's just as well. You're too much of a baby for me, Jaime, I hate to hell to rob cradles."

He turned on his heel and left me standing there, tears in my eyes. He thought I was a baby. I couldn't bear for Mark to think that about me, to look at my eyes so full of contempt they made me shiver. But what could I do? The impact of his anger made me reckless and when the delicious white wine was passed around at the restaurant that night, I had more than my share of refills. Throwing caution to the wind, I sipped and swallowed until all my heartaches seemed to vanish. When Mark announced that he was flying to Cuba the next morning, I barely heard him. My mind was far away, on pleasant thoughts.

"Honey, you're drunk," Glen said. "Go to bed and sleep it off, huh?"

I smiled at him lazily, "I'm not sleepy."

"Pretend, before you give Melissa something else to laugh about," he asked softly. "And don't push Mark's temper any further tonight. I'm surprised he hasn't lectured you about the amount of wine you drank. He didn't like it that's for sure."

"Be a pal and stop preaching," I said fanning myself with my hand. "It's so hot."

"Feels like storm weather. Go to bed and you'll cool off."

I shrugged, and to Glen's relief went to my room before the others came in the house. Once I got in bed I was only hotter. It was to quiet, and my thoughts began to haunt me. Mark's words came back - too much of a baby, he said. Too much of a baby. I tossed and turned until it became unbearable. Finally I got up, put on my brief white bikini and grabbed a beach towel. If I couldn't sleep, I might as well cool off. Just the thought of the cold water made me feel better.

I made my way downstairs in the dark house and walked a little unsteadily out onto the beach. My bare feet hurt on the pebbles until I reached the softer sand where the surf was. The air was great, the beach was deserted. I stood and the scent of flowers that merged with the smell of water was beautiful.

"What are you doing out here?" came a harsh, deep voice.

I watched Mark move into view in the moonlight, wearing a pair of shorts.

"I asked you a question," he said, and even in the moonlight the boldness in his eyes shown. The way he was looking at me made my pulse pound.

"I came out to swim," I said. "I'm hot."

"Are you?"

My eyes traced the lines of his body, lingering at his chest. My lips parted as I felt a surge of longing so great, it moved me towards him without me even being aware of it until I was close enough to touch him.

"Don't be angry with me," I pleaded. My fingers went to his chest, touching the skin nervously, feeling the muscles clench under my touch.

"Don't," he said harshly, grabbing my hand roughly.

"Why not, Mark?" I asked. "Don't you like for me to touch you? I'm just a baby, remember," I taunted, moving my fingers under his. I could feel his heartbeat quicken, hear the rough intake of his breath as I moved closer and let my body rest against his. The naked brush of my thighs against him was intoxicating, and the feel of his hard chest against the softness of my body caused me to sigh.

"Mark," I whispered. The alcohol I'd consumed made me uninhibited; I'd never been so relaxed with him before. But now I touched his shoulders and the muscles of his big arms in desperate longing, drowning in the nearness of him, the feel of his big, warm body under my hands.

My head moved forward, and I pressed my mouth against his chest, drinking in his cologne. He caught his breath sharply, and his hands suddenly gripped my bare waist.

"Don't, Jaime," he whispered. "You'll make me do something we'll both regret. You don't know what you're doing to me!"

My body moved against his, and I heard the groan that broke from his throat. "I know," I moaned, lifted my face to meet his eyes. "Oh, Mark, make love to me!"

"On a public beach?" he growled, before bending his head to take my mouth.

My arms lifted around his neck, and his hands dropped to my thighs, lifting my body abruptly against his so that it was molded to every part of him in a joining that tore a moan from my lips. His fingers contracted, and I felt a shudder rip through my body, felt the arms holding me begin to tremble.

We swayed together tasting, touching, burning with a hunger that seemed incapable of satisfaction. My fingers buried themselves in his hair.

I felt his fingers at the strings that held my bikini top, and I was too lost in him to notice what was happening until I felt his chest against mine.

"This is how it felt that day in the gazebo, isn't it?" he breathed. "I want all of you against me like this, I want to lie down on the beach with you and let you feel every delicious difference between your body and mine."

My thighs trembled where his fingers caressed them, drawing my hips to his. My nails bit into his back and I sobbed.

"Jaime, Jaime, my love," he whispered as his mouth touched my lips again and again, brief hard kisses that aroused me almost beyond bearing.

His mouth moved down my throat and my body arched as he found the thrust of my breasts and let his lips brush against the flesh.

"Mark," I whispered. I love you, I thought, I love you more than my own life, and if I have nothing else, I'll have this to remember when I'm old, and you and Melissa have children and I'm alone with my memories. My fingers tangled in his hair, bringing his mouth closer.

"God, you're soft," he breathed. "Soft like silk...Jaime, I want you. I want you like I want air to breathe; I want to make love to you..." His mouth took mine again, deeply possessive, his arms swallowing me.

"We've got to stop this," he groaned, dragging his mouth away. "I can't take you here!"

My hands ran lovingly over his chest, feeling it. I wanted to touch all of him.

"We could go inside," I suggested.

"Yes, we could. And you'd wake in my arms hating me. Not like this. Damn it, not like this!"

He pushed my away, and for just an instant, his eyes possessed the curve of my breasts like a hungry man starving for food. He grabbed my bikini top and dropped it in my shaking hands and turned his back.

"Put it on," he said as he reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels he'd brought out with him. "Let me cool off for a minute. Do you see what you do to me?" he growled, half-laughing as he took a drink.

I tied the top back in place.

"I'm sorry Mark. I...I didn't mean to...to..."

"It's alright, Jaime. You had too much to drink, that's all."

My eyes closed and I folded my arms around my body. "I'm so ashamed."

He stiffened. "Ashamed?"

I turned away. "I can't think what got into me. Maybe it's my age; maybe I'm going through my second childhood."

"Or maybe you're just frustrated. Is that it, Jaime? Can't Glen give you what

you need?"

Shocked I turned lifting my eyes. "What?"

"You make no secret of your preference for his company, honey. But he isn't

passionate. You're just finding that out, aren't you? Can't he give you what

I can?"

"I don't...don't feel that way about Glen," I stuttered.

"Don't expect me to stand in for him again. I draw the line at being used for

a damn substitute."

"But I wasn't...!"

He turned away. "Go back inside and sober up."

I stared at him. I wanted desperately to stay with him, to make him understand how I felt. To tell him that I loved him, not Glen. That I'd give anything to be to him what Melissa was. I knew not to try in his present mood. He might never listen to me again. I wanted to hit myself for putting away all that wine. I'd killed Mark's respect for me, and along with it, every chance I'd ever had of making him love me. With a sigh I turned away and picked up my towel. I drug it aimlessly behind me as I walked past the trees back to the house.