Читать книгу Marriage On The Cards - Susan Carlisle, Joanna Sims - Страница 17

Chapter Nine

She actually felt nervous at the thought of seeing Dylan. She had called Hope to say good-night and now she was standing outside his door, holding her cupcake offering. At some point, a flip had been switched and just Dylan had suddenly become Dylan. When Dylan opened the door, she thrust the box at him.

“Here.”

Dylan pulled one long-stem lavender rose from behind his back and held it out for her. “For you.”

Pleased and surprised by the romantic gesture, Mackenzie exchanged the cupcakes for the rose. She lifted the rose up to her nose and breathed in the strong, sweet scent.

“Thank you,” she said with a small smile.

“You must’ve read my mind.” Dylan stepped back so she could come inside. “I was craving your cupcakes today.”

When they reached the kitchen, Dylan immediately opened the box and grabbed a cupcake.

“Are they both for me, or do I need to share?” Dylan removed the wrapper from the first cupcake and took a large bite.

“They’re for you...”

“Hmm...always incredible.” Dylan started in on the second cupcake. “I just realized, I’ve never even bothered to ask you how you got into the cupcake business in the first place.”

Mackenzie crossed her arms protectively in front of her, those old, never-forgotten feelings of defensiveness shooting to the surface. “A lot of people ask me that. I always think that there’s a built-in insult in there...like they’re really asking why a woman with a weight problem would own a bakery...”

Dylan looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “But...that’s not what I meant.”

Ill at ease, Mackenzie tightened her arms around her body. “I’m sorry. Sometimes that old stuff creeps up out of nowhere and flies out of my mouth before I can stop it. Do you ever wish you had a rewind button on your mouth?”

“All the time.” Dylan finished the cupcake and put the box in the recycling bin. “And can we just clarify something right now? I happen to think that you’re a beautiful woman. Okay?”

“Okay.” Mackenzie nodded.

“And I really like it when you wear your hair down like that.”

“Thank you.” Mackenzie uncrossed her arms. “Do you still want to hear about the bakery?”

“Of course.”

“You remember that my mom and I used to bake cupcakes together before she died.”

Dylan nodded as she continued, “I remember her always talking about opening up a cupcake shop, but she never got the chance to do it. When I got older, making cupcakes always made me feel happy, and for some odd reason, when I work with sugar and butter, I don’t want to eat it.” Mackenzie smiled a self-effacing smile. “So, when Dad saw me floundering after high school, he offered to send me to school to get my associate’s in baking and pastry arts, which then led to a bachelor’s degree in bakery and pastry arts management.”

“And the bakery?”

“Dad’s idea. He made the initial investment, but I’m not gonna sugarcoat it...no pun intended...it’s been really tough being a single parent and running a business. After Hope’s diagnosis...” Mackenzie paused before she confessed something to Dylan that only Ray knew. “I seriously considered closing. But I have employees to think about...”

“I think you’re a really strong woman, Mackenzie. I know how hard it is to run a business.”

Mackenzie pulled a small photo album out of her tote. “I brought something for you to look at.”

“What’s that?” Dylan took the album, flipped to the first page.

Once Dylan realized it was a photo album full of Hope pictures, he slid onto a stool to get more comfortable while he looked at it.

“Look how tiny she was!” Dylan stared at Hope’s first baby picture. “‘Hope Virginia Brand, 6 pounds 4 ounces, born 3:13 a.m., August 20.ʼ”

“She was an early-morning baby.”

“How come there aren’t any pictures of you pregnant?”

“Are you kidding me? I would have killed someone if they tried to take my picture when I was pregnant! But, you know, Hope is the reason why I finally lost the weight...”

“How so?” Dylan flipped to the next page.

“After she was born, I knew that I had to get healthy. I worked really hard to lose the baby weight and then I just kept on losing. The fact that I was doing it for both of us made it easier somehow.”

“I would have liked to see you pregnant,” Dylan said. “I wish I had been able to be there when Hope was born.”

The photo album chronicled Hope’s childhood. A childhood he had missed. The little girl in these pictures was lost to him, and a feeling of loss and sadness hit him out of the blue. Dylan used his thumb and forefinger to rub unexpected tears out of his eyes and then he pinched the bridge of his nose to stop more tears from forming.

Wide-eyed, temporarily struck dumb, Mackenzie hadn’t expected this reaction from Dylan. When she had played the “photo album scene” over in her mind, she had imagined them laughing and smiling and talking about Hope. Instead, she saw grief. Not knowing what else she could do for him, Mackenzie wrapped her arms around Dylan’s shoulders. She hugged him so tightly that the muscles in her arms started to shake. He sat, like a rock, still pinching the bridge of his nose. The sorrow that Dylan felt over having missed his daughter’s life was palpable and profound. And, ultimately, she was the one to blame.

“I’m sorry,” Mackenzie repeated over and over again. “I’m so sorry.”

Dylan turned to her, reached for her and enveloped her in his arms. They clutched each other tightly, their arms entangled, their chests pressed together, their thighs touching. Without warning, Mackenzie’s own guilt, her own sorrow and her own feelings of regret overwhelmed her.

“I’m so sorry...” Her tears were absorbed by the material of his shirt.

Dylan pulled back, caught her face between his hands and shook his head.

“Mackenzie...” Dylan wiped her fresh tears away with his thumbs, still holding her face in his hands. “It’s okay.”

Their eyes locked. And Mackenzie couldn’t have looked away if she had the will to do it. Dylan’s eyes were naked, raw, unshielded windows into his soul. She continued to stare into his eyes as he moved his thumb sensually over her lower lip. Then his mouth was on hers, without pretense, without warning. Dylan’s kiss was soft, tentative, gentle, at first. Then demanding, possessive, sensual. He tasted like sugar; he slipped his tongue past her lips, pulled her body more tightly into his body. Her leg muscles turned to Jell-O; her breathing was quick and shallow. Dylan’s arm cradled her back, his fingers fanned out between her shoulders. He kissed her again and again, going a little bit further, taking a little bit more. And then it happened to her. From somewhere deep inside her, untapped and neglected, Mackenzie felt desire. Like tiny electrical shock waves sent tingling and pulsing to the core of her body. Intuitively, Mackenzie pressed her groin into Dylan’s...seeking...

The noise Dylan made in the back of his throat struck a primitive chord. And the feel of his arousal, rock hard, thick, searching...made her feel crazy inside. Out of control. She wanted to rip off her jeans, right there in the kitchen, and demand that Dylan use his body to put her out of this new, foreign, torturous misery. Mackenzie pushed back against his arm, pushed her hands against his chest. She had to put some distance between them before she let her body’s driving needs overrun her reason.

Dylan’s arms opened and they both took a step back. Chests rising and falling, desire still sparking in both of their eyes, they were silent. Stunned by what had just happened and uncertain of their next move. Mackenzie touched her fingers to her lips. She had never been kissed like that before; she thought those kind of kisses were for other women. Not her.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Mackenzie blurted out.

Dylan resisted the urge to adjust himself. “Down the hall—second door on the right.”

Mackenzie headed to the downstairs bathroom and Dylan chose to head upstairs to the third-floor master bedroom. He took the stairs two at a time; he waited until he had reached his bedroom before he gave in to the need to make the necessary adjustments.

What the hell just happened?

Mackenzie had made him nuts: the sensual curves of her womanly body. The full breasts, the roundness of her hips. The way her hair smelled, the feel of her soft lips...the taste of her...it all drove him wild. And he’d wanted to take her right there on the kitchen floor; would have taken her, if she had only given him the green light. Dylan sat down on the edge of his bed; he needed some time to cool off before he went back downstairs. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t put it past himself to try to talk Mackenzie out of her pants and into his bed.

Mackenzie darted into the bathroom and locked the door.

What just happened?

She was shaking, not from being cold, not from fear...from lust...desire...passion. The most sensitive part of her body, between her thighs, was throbbing, for God’s sake! She was...embarrassed. And hornier than she’d been since she was pregnant with Hope. She couldn’t remember the last time she had wanted a man; she had mentally shut down her sexuality years ago. Eventually, her body had followed. But now? Now her body was turned back on with a vengeance. And she was hot for Dylan Axel. With few good options available to her, Mackenzie sat down on the edge of the tub until she could think of a better plan. What does one do in a situation such as this?

Run for your life?

“Mackenzie?”

Dylan’s knock on the door startled her, made her jump.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!”

An unconvinced pause and then Dylan said, “Are you sure? You’ve been in there a long time...”

“I’ll be out in a minute!”

Mackenzie splashed cool water on her face, glad now that she hadn’t put on mascara. Yes, her eyes were watery, red and puffy...but at least she didn’t look like a drowned raccoon.

She pointed at her own reflection. “You are not a coward. Just go out there and deal with this head-on!”

Determined to exit stage left as soon as possible, she open the door, marched back into the kitchen and prepared to deliver her excuse.

“I hope you like zinfandel...” Dylan had uncorked a bottle of wine.

“I do.” That didn’t sound like much of an excuse.

Dylan grabbed the bottle, two glasses and a blanket.

“Let’s head down to the beach,” he said.

Dylan seemed to know exactly what she needed, exactly how she needed it. And instead of making an excuse, as per the plan, she found herself following Dylan down to the beach. When they reached a good spot on the sand, he spread out the blanket. After they were settled, Dylan poured them both a glass of wine and they touched glasses.

“To first kisses.” Dylan made the toast.

“First kisses?” Mackenzie didn’t take a drink.

“Yeah...tonight was our first real kiss. I don’t remember much from the wedding, but I do remember that you wouldn’t let me kiss you.”

“Oh...I’d forgotten about that.” Not sure she wanted to repeat that toast, she took a sip of the wine instead. “Good wine.”

Night had fallen and they practically had the beach to themselves. There was a party just kicking in to high gear several houses down, but none of the partygoers had wandered down to their small stretch of beach.

It took a second full glass of wine, but Mackenzie no longer felt the least bit awkward or embarrassed.

“Killer view, Dylan...”

“I like it...” Dylan nodded, his eyes focused straight ahead.

By the third glass, Mackenzie had kicked off her shoes, dug her toes in the sand, and she felt all swirly and dreamy like buttercream frosting atop a cupcake. By the fourth glass, Mackenzie was flat on her back, loose as a goose, admiring the stars.

“You’re not going to be able to drive home now,” Dylan noted.

“That’s true,” Mackenzie agreed nonchalantly.

Dylan finished his fourth glass of wine. They had finished the bottle. “And I’m not going to be able to drive you home.”

“That’s also true...”

“So...you’ll have to spend the night.”

Mackenzie giggled. “And here I thought I was too old for a sleepover.”

Mackenzie was obviously three sheets to the wind and he was buzzed. It was time to get off the beach. Dylan helped Mackenzie stand up, helped her get steady on her feet and walked up the stairs behind her just in case she tipped backward. Back in the kitchen, Mackenzie folded her arms and laid her head down on the island.

“Come on...” Dylan said kindly. “I’ll get you set up in the spare room.”

Dylan made sure she had everything she needed for a comfortable night: new toothbrush, toothpaste, a comfortable bed...privacy. He even brought her the top of his pajamas to wear so she wouldn’t have to sleep in her clothes. Languid and carefree from the wine, Mackenzie finished in the bathroom, tossed the decorative pillows onto the floor and rolled herself into bed. She sighed happily and snuggled into the downy pillows. Alone, in the dark, her mind drifted back to Dylan’s kisses. Her body undoubtedly wanted more and more and more. But did she?

The next morning, she had the answer to that self-imposed question. Slightly hungover, and a little bit headachy, Mackenzie brushed her teeth and then, still in Dylan’s pajama top, she left the guest bedroom. The house was quiet as she headed up to Dylan’s third-floor master suite. Other than the unmade, empty bed, the room was spotless. The man really was a total neat freak. Her chronic messiness would drive him nuts! Mackenzie stood in the doorway for a moment, rethinking the soundness of her plan. Perhaps she should just turn around, sprint back to her room and catapult herself back into bed.

And she almost did, but then she heard a toilet flush and Dylan appeared, wearing the bottom half of the pajama set, stripped bare above the waist, hair mussed, scratching his chest hair. He didn’t notice her as he walked sleepily back to his bed and flopped backward. Mackenzie, frozen to the spot, had been trying, since she had awakened, to formulate her best pitch line, and she had decided on, Dylan—would you make love to me?

“Dylan...?”

Surprised by her voice, Dylan bolted upright. “Geez...you scared the crap out of me, Mackenzie.” Dylan collapsed back into his fortress of pillows.

“Sorry...”

“Don’t worry about it...” Dylan yawned and stretched.

It took him a minute to focus his eyes and really get a look at Mackenzie. Standing shyly in his doorway, hands in the fig-leaf position, she was filling out his pajama top in a way that made his body stand at attention. He pushed himself into a sitting position and casually pulled the covers over the lower half of his body. He had to force himself not to stare at her legs; Mackenzie had really sexy, curvy legs.

“Are you hungry?” Dylan asked after he cleared his throat.

He needed to get her out of his bedroom. The last thing he wanted to do was go too far too fast and run her off the way he almost did last night.

“No.” Mackenzie tugged on the bottom of the pajama top to cover more of her legs. “I mean...yes. I am. But no.”

Dylan half smiled, half laughed at her odd response. “Say what?”

Mackenzie twisted her fingers together, losing faith in the sanity of her plan. She had been trying to keep things simple and uncomplicated with Dylan back in her life; what she was about to propose was a first-class ticket to complicated.

“Yes, I am hungry...but no, that’s not the reason I’m here. In your bedroom...”

“I’m listening...” Dylan was intrigued...and hopeful. Perhaps Mackenzie didn’t need to leave his bedroom after all.

“I was wondering...how you would feel about—” she shifted weight from one leg to the other “—actually, what I’m trying to ask is...do you want to...make love to me?”

“Yes.” Dylan took her up on her offer in record time.

“Yes?” Her voice had jumped an octave.

“Yes.” He nodded. “I would...like to make love to you.”

The man had said yes, which is what she wanted, right? But now she wished she could press Rewind and take back the offer. This couldn’t be a good idea, could it? Sex complicated everything. And this situation was already complicated enough.

“Come join me...” Dylan peeled back the covers on the empty side of the bed.

Instead of taking the sane and safe option, she walked slowly toward him.

“You look really good in my pajamas...” It was a genius idea to lend her the top of his favorite pair.

Dylan found Mackenzie’s nervous smile endearing. He had been used to women who were sexually confident, even aggressive at times. This was a nice change. When Mackenzie reached the side of the bed, she quickly slid beneath the covers and pulled them up to her chin. The tips of her fingers were white from gripping the covers so tightly.

“Did you know—” Dylan turned on his side, kept his hands to himself “—that most men are really nervous about sleeping with a woman for the first time?”

“Is that true or are you just making that up to make me feel better...?”

“I’m not making it up...it’s true.”

Mackenzie loosened her death grip on the covers. “Are you nervous now?”

“Yeah,” Dylan admitted. “Sure I am...”

“Why?”

“Because...there’s a lot pressure on a guy to perform, women just don’t get it. We’re always worried about are we big enough, are we hard enough, are we going to last? Not to mention the pressure of trying to give a woman multiple orgasms when it’s hard enough just to figure out how to give her one. And trust me, all guys know that our performance, good or bad, is going to be discussed, and dissected, at length with their friends. I’m telling you...it’s a lot of pressure to be on the guy end of things.”

His attempt to make Mackenzie feel more comfortable with him must have worked, because she put her arms on top of the covers. They were still pinned tightly to her sides, completely blocking him from her body, but it was progress.

Dylan reached over, tucked her hair behind her ear and then lightly rested his hand on her arm. “We don’t have to do this, Mackenzie. It’s okay to change your mind.”

“No!” Mackenzie protested. “I want to do it. I’m rusty, okay? And I would think,” Mackenzie snapped, “that with all your vast experience, you’d know how to get the ball rolling. Aren’t you the one with the bachelor pad and models-slash-actresses prancing about half-naked? I made the first move, why can’t you make the—”

Dylan’s kiss cut off the rest of her words. She liked the minty taste of his tongue; she liked the masculine smell of his skin—no cologne, just Dylan’s natural scent. By the time Dylan ended the kiss, Mackenzie no longer felt like complaining. She wanted less talking and more kissing.

“Here...” Dylan tugged on the covers that were still pinned down with her arms. “Let me get closer to you.”

Once he managed to coax the covers out of her control, Dylan pressed his body into hers. She continued to lay on her back, stiff and unmoving, when he wrapped his arm around her and draped his leg over her thigh. Dylan made a pleasurable noise as he nuzzled her neck.

“Aren’t we supposed to do this after...?”

“Relax...” Dylan whispered near her ear.

Relax. Relax. Just relax!

“Open your eyes, Mackenzie...” Dylan was admiring her pretty face.

She opened her eyes; it was embarrassing. She only made love in the dark with her eyes closed. And now Dylan wanted them open?

“You have the most amazing eyes... Have I ever told you that before?”

She shook her head. She liked his eyes, too. In the soft morning light, they looked mossy green with flecks of gold around the irises.

He ran his fingers lightly over her lips. “Soft lips.”

Those two simple words were followed by a kiss. Once he started kissing her again, he didn’t stop. He seemed to enjoy the taste and the feel of her mouth. And she found herself responding to this gentle seduction. He wasn’t in a hurry; he wasn’t just going through the motions to get to the end zone as fast as he could. Dylan was making her feel special, beautiful...cherished. At first, she was a passive partner, timid and unsure. But his kisses started to change that and she began to touch his body—the hair on his chest, his biceps.

Dylan forced himself to go slow, take his time. Her touch was so tentative and she was so unsure of her own sexuality that it felt as if he was in bed with a virgin. Her body was so voluptuous, so soft, that all he wanted to do was to get rid of that stupid pajama top so he could feel her breasts. He wanted to hold them, massage them...kiss them. The scent of her hair and the feel of her silky skin were aphrodisiacs to him.

Dylan pressed his hard-on against her body, and that’s when she felt it again: that throbbing, yearning sensation between her thighs. The next pleasurable sound she heard was her own. Dylan had slipped his hand into her panties and nudged his fingers between her thighs. When he felt how aroused she was, Dylan whispered into her ear.

“I want to be inside of you, Mackenzie.” Dylan’s voice had a husky, sexy quality now. “Do you want that, too?”

“Yes.” Why was he talking so much? “Why are you talking?”