Page 23 of If You Come Back To Me (If You Come Back To Me 1)
She laughed self-consciously. “I’ve had a boyfriend or two tell me that I’m too serious about my career.”
“Ah. We have that in common, then. Fortunate in our choice of career, unlucky at love. It’s funny, though…. I’d always pictured Mari Itani to be the type to master both her career and romance like a pro.” His mouth quirked with humor, but his eyes were warm as they studied her. “Figured you’d be married with at least five kids by now and be busy training them for the family orchestra.”
Mari whipped her towel at him in playful reprimand. Hearing Marc tease her had caused embarrassment and pleasure to surge through her in equal measure. There was little doubt she’d once expected to settle down and start a family with him.
Funny, how the dreams of a girl still had the power to move her.
Soon, the sun’s warm rays lulled Mari as she lay on the blanket they’d spread on the beach. Admiring the gleam and flex of his strong back muscles, she watched through heavy eyelids as Marc again wandered into the lagoon to cool off and swim.
When she awoke, her right cheek was pressed against her extended arm. She glanced around sleepily, not moving her head, wondering why she felt so content when she wasn’t immediately certain where she was. She saw the blue-green water of the lagoon wink in the periphery of her vision and recalled the day in a flash. Everything was quiet.
Where was Marc?
She abruptly turned onto her back and bumped into the answer to her question. He was right there—his arm bent at the elbow, his head in his hand, his long body curved around her. Only an inch or two separated them. She laughed in startled amazement when she saw his blue eyes studying her.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he countered in a low, husky voice that only added to her sense of delicious lassitude.
“It looks like you were watching me sleep.” His gaze flickered over her neck and breasts, and made her skin tingle.
He smiled. She stared up at him, mesmerized by the longing in his blue eyes. “I was thinking about all the nights I missed watching you while you slept,” he replied in a hushed tone.
A strained silence ensued.
“Did you think about me? When you left for San Francisco?” he asked.
“How can you ask me that?” Her eyes burned when she blinked. “It was hell, that first year after the crash. My aunt was worried sick about me, I lost so much weight and I couldn’t sleep through the night. I’d wake up in a panic.”
“Were you having nightmares?”
She shook her head. “I’d dream I was back in Michigan and that everything was perfect. I’d dream my parents were still alive. I’d dream of being with you again.” She reached up and caressed his jaw. “Waking up was the nightmare.”
His nostrils flared slightly at her words. His eyes looked fierce. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers.
She sighed in surrender. It was just the two of them. They weren’t hurting anyone by acknowledging their unique bond. The past receded. Surely there was nothing stronger than this moment, than this feeling?
He lifted his head too soon for Mari.
“Marc?” she whispered, disappointed at his withdrawal.
His mouth slanted in irritation. He glanced up at the thick foliage behind them.
“What—?” she asked, startled when he abruptly sat up. Mari heard voices behind them. She sat up, as well, twisting to look behind her.
Three teenagers—two girls and a boy—reached the bottom of the path and walked onto the white sand. They hesitated when they saw they weren’t alone, but then the boy said something Mari couldn’t catch, and they headed down the spit of sand, granting Mari and Marc space, if not privacy.
Marc glanced back at her, the heat in his eyes still very much present, and gave her a wry smile. She laughed softly. They were a little old to get caught fooling around on the beach. She tried to ignore the sharp stab of regret she experienced and reached for her tank top.
They dressed and packed up their belongings, speaking sparingly to each other as they trudged back up the steep path. She noticed how far the sun had dipped in the western sky as Marc got on the motorcycle.
“How long did I sleep?” she asked as she climbed up behind him.
“Over an hour.”
“Really?” she asked, flustered. It was out of character for her to nap for so long, if at all. Had Marc watched her that whole time? “I’m sorry. I’ve been a little tired ever since the trip,” she murmured as he shifted the cycle to an upright position.
“Don’t be. I didn’t mind.” The bike roared to life.
