Page 18 of You'll Find Out
“Neither can I,” she whispered, and in one hushed instant, he came to her, moving against her with the desire that had tortured him for years. She felt molten hot explosions ripping through her body, his cataclysmic, shuddering surrender, and a burst of passion as their bodies came hungrily together in complete, rekindled union.
Shane cradled her against him, and she felt younger than she had in years. She gave into the yearnings of her body, and fell asleep nestled in the warm strength of his arms. She knew that she had to tell him about Angie, and she wanted desperately to understand everything that he had experienced in Northern Ireland, but she couldn’t bring herself to shatter the peace that they had found and shared together.
Late in the night, when Shane awakened her with his own returning passion, she thought about the absurdity of the situation, but kept her thoughts to herself. In the morning, she promised a guilty corner of her mind—I’ll get everything straight with him . . . in the morning.
Chapter 5
When morning dawned, sending forth warm rays of summer sunshine, and Mara awakened sleepily, she felt a tranquility and a peace that she hadn’t experienced in years. Curling up comfortably against Shane’s strong body in a dreamless sleep had created a warm, delicious feeling that wrapped her in a rosy cloak of good humor as she stretched languidly on the bed.
She watched Shane, still sleeping soundly next to her. The lavender sheet, which she clutched to her naked breast, was draped casually over his dark-skinned body. All tension seemed to be drained away from him, and the rock-hard muscles were relaxed in slumber. Even with the evidence of a beard against his chin, he looked younger and softer than he had the night before. He lay on his side, an arm stretched over his head, his bronzed skin deepened by the pale color of the bedding.
The morning sun was to Mara’s back, and through the window it cast warm rays past the thin slats of the blinds, causing an uneven striping of shadows over his body. He stirred after a few moments, the sun in his eyes and Mara’s intense gaze awakening him.
A sleepy eye cracked open and a smile, crooked but becoming, spread across his features as he let his eyes wander caressingly over her body. He stretched, and in one lithe movement pulled the sheet away from her breasts. His dark eyes reached for her, and she could sense the flames of passion sparking in their ebony-colored depths.
“Do you know,” he inquired lazily, as a finger came up to outline the swell of her breast, “that you’re more beautiful in the morning than I had remembered?” His finger stopped its warm, seductive movement. “I didn’t think that was possible.”
She reached for his finger and halted its further exploration by holding it to her lips. “And do you know,” she countered, suggestively, “that you and I have an incredible mountain of things that have to be sorted out today?”
“But we’ve got all morning,” he assured her, and brushed a golden curl away from her face.
“No . . . no, Shane, we don’t.”
The firm quality of her answer surprised him. “What do you mean?” he asked, and suddenly became serious. Noting the pained look that had crossed her face, he pulled away from her, but couldn’t help but touch her forehead, as if to wipe away the lines of concentration that furrowed her brow.
“There are things that we have to discuss . . .”
“Nothing so earth shattering that it won’t wait,” he argued seductively, and pulled her down to lie next to him before covering her lips with his. The weight of his chest, crushing against her breasts, made her heart race in anticipation. His magic was working on her again.
Reluctantly, she pulled her mouth from his, determined to explain about Angie. “Shane . . . there’s so much to say,” she began, trying to ignore the passion that was heating within her. “Some things have to be discussed.”
“So . . let’s discuss them right now,” he suggested. His smile was satisfied, almost evil, as he let his fingers circle her lips in rapturous swirls.
“Shane! Be serious . . .please,”she implored breathlessly.
His weight shifted and he eyed her studiously. Something was weighing heavily on her mind—that much was obvious. “All right,” he agreed, pulling apart from her. The few inches on the bed that separated them seemed an incredible distance to Mara. He levered himself on one elbow, partially supported by a pillow, and watched her, waiting to hear whatever confession she thought was necessary. He thought fleetingly of Peter Wilcox, and a sour, uneasy feeling formed in the pit of his stomach.
His stare was intense, and his partially covered body compelling. Mara had trouble finding the words that should have come easily to her—how could she begin?
“Let’s go downstairs,” she suggested, biting her lip.
“I thought you wanted to talk.”
“I do. But I would rather do it . . somewhere else . . . where I can think more clearly . . .”
His dark eyebrow quirked in interest and he shrugged his shoulders. “If it would be easier for you.” He reached for his clothing, cast in a wrinkled pile on the floor, and wondered about the upcoming discussion. There was a confrontation in the air—he could almost taste it.
Knowing that if she didn’t explain to Shane about Angie as soon as possible, she would lose her frail nerve, she wondered how he would take the news that he had a nearly four-year-old daughter. Would he believe it? How would he react? Mara slid off of the bed and walked quickly to the closet to grab her apricot-colored terry robe that was hanging on a peg. She didn’t turn around, but she could feel Shane’s dark eyes roving over her naked backside as she shrugged into the robe. “A pity,” she heard him mutter to himself, but she didn’t respond to the passion she visualized was on his face. She knotted the belt of the robe angrily, forcing herself to keep the promise of the night before—that she would tell him about Angie. It was his right! She meant to keep that promise to herself, no matter how difficult it proved to be. Also, before anything else happened, shehadto know why he had waited so long to come back to her, and the reason for his sudden desire for her after four quiet, lonely years.
The seductive mood of the bedroom was broken by the airy cheerfulness of the kitchen. The clean hard surfaces of bright rust-colored tile and warm butcher-block countertops brought Mara back to reality. As she sat across from Shane at the small breakfast table, Mara wondered if she had the nerve to ask all of the questions that plagued her. She swirled cream into her coffee and watched her cup studiously as the dark brown liquid absorbed the milky cream.
Steeling herself, she raised her eyes to meet his. The pungent aroma of coffee filled her nostrils as she looked deeply into his black gaze. As if anticipating the worth of her question, Shane’s face became completely sober, his stare penetrating. Mara felt as if he were looking into the deepest corners of her mind.
“You wanted to talk,” he coaxed gently.
She licked her lips, a movement he found devastatingly distracting. Her voice was low and direct. “That’s right,” she agreed hesitantly. Oh, God, why was this so difficult? “There are things that we have to discuss. Things I need to know . . . things that youhaveto know.”
A dark eyebrow cocked. “Go on . . .”
