Читать книгу Marrying Marcus - Laurey Bright, Laurey Bright - Страница 11

It lasted only a second, but a faint warmth seeped into her cold heart, and when he stepped back, saying, “Can you stand to go back inside?” she nodded, feeling somehow stronger, braced for the fray.

Jenna helped Katie and her mother rustle up an impromptu meal. Some visitors had drifted away, but there was quite a crowd around the big table in the spacious dining room, and Jenna’s lack of conversation went unnoticed. Marcus took a seat next to her, shielding her from Callie and Dean on his other side.

After the dishes were disposed of, Marcus found Jenna hanging up a tea towel in the kitchen, carefully straightening the edges. “Anytime you want,” he said, “we can go.”

Thankfully she took the hint. Steeling herself, she parried Katie’s suspicious surprise that she’d decided to go home after all, using the excuse that this was a family occasion, and repeated her congratulations to Dean and Callie.

Within minutes she was releasing a sigh of relief as she fastened her safety belt.

Marcus started the car and edged out of the driveway. “You can let go now, if you want,” he said.

Cry, she supposed he meant.

Although she’d been fighting tears for hours, now the urge to weep had left her altogether. She sat dry-eyed and silent beside Marcus all the way back to the city. The sunlight dancing on the water of the west harbor as they sped alongside it seemed to mock her bleak mood of despair.

Leaving the high speed zone, Marcus glanced at her as he eased off the accelerator. “Will you be all right on your own?”

“I won’t slit my wrists,” she promised.

He smiled. “I know you wouldn’t. If you’d rather come to my place, I have a spare room.”

She shook her head. “Thanks, but no. You’ve been great, Marcus.”

“It doesn’t cost me anything, and much as I’d like to wring his neck, I couldn’t allow Dean’s homecoming to turn into a disaster.”

He might have been sorry for her, but his main concern was his family. Because she was close to his brother and sister, Jenna too had always come under his protection, but she guessed that if she threatened their happiness he’d sacrifice her without a second thought.

Which was right and natural. Only it didn’t make her feel any better.

Marcus said, “It’s a pity your mother’s so far away.”

For the past three years Jenna’s mother had been living in Invercargill, at the other end of the country, with her second husband. “I’m too old to run to my mother,” Jenna said.

She’d learned early in life that running to her mother didn’t solve anything. Karen Harper loved her daughter, but at times her own problems had been too overwhelming for her to cope with Jenna’s, as well.

Marcus cast her a glance. “If you do need someone to run to,” he offered, “I’ll be around.”

She managed a pale smile. “Thanks, but I don’t think so.”

“Independent little cuss, aren’t you?”

“I’ve always tried to be.”

“Had to be, I suppose. It must have been tough, losing your father so early.”

“I never really knew him—I only have a few hazy memories. It was hard on my mother, though. I’m glad she’s found someone else.”

“We promised to keep an eye on you, you know, when she went to live down south.”

Jenna had been just short of twenty then, still at university and living in a students’ hall. “I don’t think she meant me to be a lifelong burden on your family.”

He turned the car into the quiet suburban street where she and Katie lived. “You’re not a burden, Jenna. You’re a friend. And that’s going to make things difficult for you over the next few months, perhaps. You won’t confide in Katie, will you?”

She wasn’t sure if it was a question or a disguised warning. “No.” It was going to be difficult enough for Katie, adjusting to a stranger having a claim on her twin. Knowing that her closest friend carried a torch for him would add extra stress.

“Here you are.” The car stopped outside the building. “I’ll come in with you.”

“You don’t need to—”

He ignored that, and it was just as well. When she opened the door of the flat they were greeted by disaster. Water was dripping from the ceiling and running down the walls, spreading a huge dark stain across the carpet.

“Hell!” Marcus surveyed the mess. “It’s either a burst pipe or someone’s left a tap running in the flat above you.”

It was hours before it was all sorted. The upstairs owners—away for the weekend—were tracked down, a key located, the forgotten tap turned off. And then came the cleanup.

Marcus stayed despite Jenna’s protest. He made phone calls, shifted furniture, helped her mop up water, and tracked down a carpet-cleaning firm who sent a couple of men who moved more furniture and set huge electric fans about the place to dry out the carpets they’d lifted and folded back.

Over the roar of the motors Marcus said, “Well, that settles it. You’ll have to come to my place after all.”

“I don’t know if—”

“You can’t stay here,” he said. “Is all you need in this bag?” He lifted the tote that she’d previously put essentials into, assuming that she would stay the night at the Crossans’.

“I’ll just change my clothes,” she said, capitulating. Her cotton trousers and shirt were wet and grubby. “I won’t be long.”

One thing about the past few hours, she’d scarcely had a chance to think about Dean and his bride-to-be.

Marcus’s apartment was a direct contrast to the cheery muddle Jenna and Katie lived in. The main room was large and airy, the sofas long and luxurious and precisely aligned about a solid rimu coffee table that held one elegantly formed pottery dish. Theirs was invariably cluttered with magazines, paperback books left open and facedown, junk mail, the TV remote control, probably an opened snack food bag and quite likely a hair dryer and bottles of nail polish.

Marcus’s books and magazines were arrayed on shelves, probably in alphabetical order, Jenna thought, and there wasn’t a sign of clutter.

The spare room he ushered Jenna into was equally sparse and neat. “The bed’s made up.” He placed her bag on the end of it. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll give Katie a ring to let her know you’re here and break the bad news about your flat.”

She unzipped the bag, shook out the skirt and top she’d packed, and hung them in the empty wardrobe to get the creases out.

Shutting the door, she caught her reflection in the mirror on the outside. Her face looked lifeless, her mouth pale and tremulous. Rummaging in the bag, she brought out a lipstick and swept a little color over her lips, then rubbed at her cheekbones with her knuckles. At least she could make an effort not to look like a Victorian maiden about to go into a decline.

In the living room, Marcus was replacing the receiver on the phone. “I’ll have a shower and get out of these clothes.” He still looked remarkably well groomed, despite the wet patches and dirty splashes on his shirt and trousers. “Are you hungry?”

She hadn’t thought about eating. Marcus was probably starved. “I could cook something while you’re in the shower, if you have anything…”

“I’ll take you up on that. Raid the freezer. Use whatever you want.”

Forty-five minutes later they sat down in the dining area to honey-glazed chicken with rice and peas. “This looks great,” Marcus told her. “And it deserves a good wine to go with it.”

He poured a New Zealand Chardonnay for them both and smiled at her as he sipped at it, but he didn’t offer a toast.

Apparently having a broken heart hadn’t destroyed Jenna’s appetite after all. She ate everything on her plate and finished the wine in her glass.

Marcus refilled it. They didn’t talk much, and when he pushed away his plate she said, “I didn’t make a dessert, but you have cheese in the fridge.”

“I’ll get it and put coffee on.” He cleared their plates and returned with a couple of cheeses and some crackers on a ceramic square. “Coffee coming up. Do you want more wine?”

“Why not? I’m not going anywhere.”

Marcus filled her glass again, and she lifted it to her lips. She could feel the alcohol-induced flush on her cheeks.

Slicing himself a piece of cheese, Marcus shot her a quizzical look. “It’s not the end of the world, you know.”

Unaccountably irritated, she said resentfully, “I don’t need you to tell me that!”

“Okay.” He held up a hand in a gesture of truce. “Take some time to wallow in your misery. But remember there’s a life out there waiting for you.”

And she’d already wasted four years of it. “You’re right,” she said, and raised her glass. There was no point in dwelling on what might have been. “Here’s to the future,” she said resolutely.

Marcus matched her gesture, giving her a look of approval.

Jenna drained her glass. “Is there more of this?”

He hesitated, poured some for her, then emptied the remains into his own glass.

By the time they left the table, the world looked a whole lot better. Marcus vetoed her feeble effort to deal with the dishes, and when she yawned, he said, “You’ve had a long day. Bedtime, I think.”

“Yes.” She blinked at him, not moving, and yawned again.

Marcus gave a low laugh and stood up, grasping her hands to haul her to her feet. The room tilted, and when he released her hands she clutched at his arms to steady herself. “Ooh! Too much wine.”

“Very possibly,” he agreed, and slid an arm about her waist to guide her. “Come on.”

In the spare room he led her to the bed, switched on the bedside lamp and stripped back the covers for her. “Can you manage now?” he asked, straightening. “You know where the bathroom is.”

“Yes. Thank you, Marcus.”

“You might not be thanking me in the morning.” He surveyed her with critical amusement and a hint of tenderness. “Good night, Jenna.”

He bent and brushed his lips over hers—a fleeting kiss of friendly comfort, but enough to upset Jenna’s already precarious balance, and as he lifted his head she swayed, so that instinctively he put his arm about her waist again to steady her.

She leaned against him, thankful for the solid feel of him, and her hands slid around his shoulders. She raised her face, found his mouth with hers and kissed him with fervor, her eyes closed, fiercely shutting out all thought. She didn’t want to think, only to feel something other than grief and humiliation.

And Marcus, perhaps understanding her need, returned her kiss beautifully, satisfyingly. He put his other arm about her and brought her closer, making her feel warm and wanted. Like a desirable woman.

But then he drew back, and his hands left her waist to curl about her arms and hold her away. Although his eyes glittered disturbingly and there was a flush on his angular cheekbones, his voice was steady. “Enough. Get some sleep, Jenna. I’ll see you in the morning.” Then he walked to the door and shut it firmly behind him.

Jenna slept surprisingly well but woke with a leaden feeling in her chest and a slight headache.

A hangover, she supposed. All that wine last night…

She closed her eyes again. That only brought the memory more vividly to her mind, and she groaned. She and Marcus, of all people, locked in a passionate kiss. What had possessed her? And now she was going to have to face him. She could hear him moving about already, the bathroom door closing, his footsteps in the passageway.

No use cowering in bed, he would probably come and rout her out of it, anyway. Reluctantly she threw back the covers and got up.

By the time she’d showered and dressed, the aroma of frying bacon was wafting through the dining area. Trying to look casual and unembarrassed, she went to the kitchen where Marcus was standing at the stove, breaking eggs into a pan. “That smells good.”

He turned and smiled at her. “Good morning. I heard the shower and figured you’d soon be ready for breakfast.”

“Can I help?”

“Make toast if you like. The bread’s over there.”

It wasn’t until they’d finished eating and she’d had her second cup of coffee that she gathered the courage to say, “About last night…I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For being so…stupid. I’d had too much to drink or I wouldn’t have…”

“Kissed me?” His lips curved. “I wondered if you’d remember. You needn’t apologize, Jenna. It may have escaped your notice, but I enjoyed it.” He paused. “I thought you did too.” His eyes held a question.

Heat burned her cheeks. “I would never normally have—I didn’t mean to—”

“No need to explain.” He stood up abruptly. “Want to help me get these dishes out of the way?”

Later he took her back to her flat.

“I’ll try to get it looking a bit less like a disaster area before Katie arrives home,” she said. “It will give me something to do.”

“She won’t be here for a while. I told her there was no point while the carpet’s still drying.”

“That’s okay. I can do with some time alone.”

He gave her a sharp look but didn’t argue. “Let me know if you need anything,” he said. “I’ll be home. And if your place is still in a mess, you and Katie can both sleep at mine tonight.”

After he’d left her she picked her way around, flattened some of the carpet that had dried, moved the machines to where they’d do the most good, and cleared paths through piled furniture to beds and the kitchen.

Remembering the orderliness of Marcus’s apartment, she was spurred into an orgy of tidying and cleaning. So when Katie arrived she was on her knees, head and hands deep in a kitchen cupboard while she wiped down the shelf from which she’d removed all the pots and pans.

It wasn’t until she emerged and sat back on her heels, wiping a strand of hair from her eyes, that she realized Katie wasn’t alone.

Dean grinned down at her. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” she asked crossly. Yesterday she’d dressed carefully, if casually, and put on makeup, and he’d hardly glanced at her. Now she was a total mess and he was looking her over as if he’d never seen her before. “Where’s Callie?” she asked him.

“Jet lag caught up with her and she couldn’t stay awake. Marcus said you’d had a flood here, so I thought you girls might need some help.”

He didn’t look jet-lagged. He looked wide-awake and heartbreakingly handsome, and she wished he were anywhere but here. “There isn’t much we can do,” she said, “until the cleaning firm has been in again and fixed the carpets back in place, once they’re dry.”

“You look busy.”

“I just had this urge…I’ll be finished here in a few minutes.”

She hoped they’d go away, but instead the two of them stood about the kitchen talking, and helpfully handed her things to put back in the cupboard.

Afterward they all sat drinking coffee, and it was almost like old times until Dean pushed back his chair, saying, “I’d better get back. Callie should have woken by now.” Apparently he couldn’t bear to think of her spending any waking moment without him.

When he’d left, Katie gave Jenna a searching look. “Are you really okay?”

“Tired, after spending half the night getting rid of the flood, but otherwise I’m fine.” Without pausing for breath, Jenna asked, “How did you get on with Callie?”

“You can’t help liking her…”

“That’s good,” Jenna said enthusiastically. “It’s important that you two get along. Not that Dean would have picked a girl you wouldn’t like.”

Katie hesitated, then refrained from pursuing the subject. “I’m sorry you got stuck with the cleanup here. I would have caught the first bus back, but Marcus said there was nothing I could do that the two of you hadn’t done already.”

“He was right, there was no need for it. Marcus was great.”

“He’s good in a crisis, our big brother. And I suppose he thinks of you as another little sister.”

“I suppose,” Jenna agreed, but the memory of last night’s kiss surfaced with sudden clarity, and unexpectedly she felt her cheeks flush.

Katie noticed. Her eyes widened. “Jenna…? You and Marcus aren’t…? When he said you were staying the night I didn’t think he meant—”

“Of course not!” Jenna denied quickly. “He gave me his spare bed, that’s all. He said we could both stay tonight, by the way.”

Katie regarded her fixedly for a moment longer, then shook her head slightly as though dismissing the thought as fantastic, and looked about them. “Mmm. It’s still a bit of a mess, isn’t it? Just as well you did leave early yesterday.”

“Yes, the water would have done a lot more damage before anyone noticed it. The upstairs neighbors were away for the weekend.”

As if on cue there was a knock at the door, and Jenna hurried to open it, revealing embarrassed neighbors bearing apologies and a placatory gift of wine. She made sure that Katie had no more opportunity to question her about the night she’d spent at Marcus’s apartment.

A couple of weeks later Mr. and Mrs. Crossan held an engagement party for Dean and Callie. Katie arranged to spend the weekend at her parents’ place helping with the preparations. Casting about for an excuse not to join her, Jenna said the house would be full and anyway she had some work to get through. But of course she’d be at the party. Marcus had offered a lift.

She did sometimes bring work home from her job copy-editing documents for university staff members. It was a plausible excuse, and she made sure that Katie saw her working over a pile of papers on Friday before Dean came in his parents’ car to pick up his sister.

That week Jenna had bought a new dress and spent a very expensive session with a hairdresser, who put some subtle highlights in and gave her a new, short and sassy style.

When she met Marcus at her door on Saturday night, he looked over the low-necked bright pink dress and high-heeled shoes and said, “If you want to show Dean what he’s missing, that’ll do it.”

“It’s a party,” Jenna said defensively. Marcus looked terrific, she thought with mild surprise. She’d never taken much notice of what he wore, but he presented a picture of casual male elegance in a natural linen shirt, darker trousers and a light jacket.

On the journey they hardly spoke. Marcus seemed preoccupied, and Jenna was tense. On their arrival he opened the car door for her and briefly took her arm. “I’ll take you home whenever you’ve had enough.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jenna said, tilting her head and straightening her shoulders.

She felt an inevitable pang when Dean greeted her with a hug and a kiss on her cheek, but kept the smile on her face as she turned to Callie and handed her the gift-wrapped parcel containing a carefully chosen set of crystal wineglasses.

Callie looked radiant and Dean more handsome than ever. Jenna was glad that Marcus soon guided her away from them to get drinks. He handed her the gin and lemon she asked for, murmuring, “You’d better have something to eat too. There are nuts and dips over here.” He guided her to the table.

“Don’t worry.” Jenna took a taco chip and dipped it in guacamole. “I won’t get drunk and molest you again,” she said before nibbling at the chip.

Marcus lifted a brow. “You disappoint me, Jenna. I was looking forward to it.”

Her eyes widened. Was Marcus flirting with her?

His teasing smile said he was. Then he gave a soft laugh. “I told you I enjoyed that kiss. Is it too much to hope for a repeat performance?”

Flustered, Jenna stammered, “Yes…I mean, you know I was…I wasn’t myself that night. Katie says you’re like a big brother to me.”

“Katie says a lot of very silly things,” Marcus pronounced. He watched her take another nibble at the chip and lick at a little guacamole that had escaped. “I think I should make it clear,” he said, “that I don’t regard you as a sister.”

Disconcerted, for a brief moment she felt hurt, then she saw his eyes momentarily shift and realized that Dean was watching them. Marcus looked back at her and inclined his head close to her ear. “If you want a smokescreen, I’m available.”

Light dawned. He was pretending to be attracted by her so that Dean and anyone else with an inkling of her real feelings for him needn’t think she was a discarded wallflower.

Her pride rebelled. “You don’t need to do this, Marcus. Like I told you, I’m a grown-up.”

“I’d have said you had a bad case of arrested development, myself.”

Her eyes widening at his slightly waspish tone, she said, “What?”

“You’ve been in a state of suspended animation ever since Dean went to the States. When are you going to wake up and smell the flowers?”

“I haven’t sat at home pining,” she protested, stung by his portrayal of her languishing for love. “I’ve got an interesting job and plenty of friends—I’ve even dated a bit.”

“You haven’t had a serious relationship, have you?”

Astounded, Jenna snapped, “That’s none of your business!”

Marcus laughed aloud, the sound deep and full-throated. It transformed his face, relaxing the seemingly harsh planes of nose and cheekbones and bringing a warmer look to his eyes. She saw Dean turn again and regard his brother curiously.

“I don’t see what’s funny,” she hissed at Marcus.

The effort he made to control the curve of his mouth belied any implicit apology. “You just reminded me so much of the way you used to be as a kid.”

“Short-tempered?” she asked suspiciously.

Marcus shook his head. “You were such a little thing, but stubborn as a baby donkey. Loyal to a fault and aggressive in defense. No one could put you down. And woe betide anyone who attacked one of the twins.”

“A little monster.”

“Not at all. The loyalty may have been misguided quite often, but it’s an admirable trait, if irritating at times. And the aggression mellowed as you grew older.”

“I was pretty insecure when we arrived next door. I guess I was overcompensating.”

After her father’s death, her mother’s world had crumbled and she could hardly rouse herself to care for a bewildered and frightened six-year-old. Jenna’s father had been a farm worker trying to save money for his own herd when the tractor he was driving rolled down a hillside and killed him.

They’d had to move out to make room for her father’s replacement, and her mother had taken another cottage offered by a neighboring couple at a low rent for six months. “Until you decide what you’re going to do,” the wife said.

They didn’t realize that Karen, sunk in grief, was incapable of making decisions.

Jenna remembered the day she’d taken charge of her own life. Karen was standing with a butter knife in her hand, halfway through making Jenna’s school lunch, but had apparently forgotten what she was doing.

“The school bus will be here soon,” Jenna had told her impatiently. She’d had to go into Karen’s room that morning and wake her to get breakfast. “Mummy?”

Her mother seemed deaf. Jenna realized she was silently crying, tears dripping down her cheeks, oblivious to everything except her own pain.

It was the loneliest moment of Jenna’s short life. Lonelier than when she’d watched her father’s coffin lowered into the ground and dimly, frighteningly, known she would never see him again.

She took the knife gently in her small, capable fingers and said, “It’s all right, Mummy. I can do it myself.”

From then on she’d got her own breakfast and lunch, whether Karen was up or not, and caught the school bus on time every day.

After the six months were up, they moved to a dispirited little town that had once had a dairy factory and was now struggling to keep any population because the factory had closed and there was no work. But rent was cheap.

There was a new school too and Jenna, starting in the middle of a term, was an outsider. She suffered loneliness and some mild bullying, learned to stand up for herself and in time made a few friends.

She patiently reminded her mother when it was time to do the washing or cook dinner, or if they needed more groceries. For two years she looked after her mother as much as her mother looked after her.

Then one day Karen looked about at where they were living as if she’d never seen it before and said, “We’re moving out of here.”

They’d shifted to a pleasant dormitory village where half the population commuted to Auckland every day. Where people grew roses and hibiscus and mowed the lawns every week. Mrs. Crossan welcomed them from over the fence and invited Jenna for a swim and to play with the twins.

She thought she’d loved them both from that very first day.