her mother used to drag home from the bar. The kind of men who, when they tired of her mother, turned their attention to Marisa. A teenager. Though none had even tried anything physical, their leering eyes had been enough to make her feel violated and defiled. Dirty.
Maybe her mother could live that way, but Marisa knew she could never be that kind of woman—not for any reason.
Across the park, she heard the delighted squeals of children playing. She forced herself not to look, for fear that her heart would break. For her, there would be no meaningless sex with a stranger. She could never live with herself. She would have to accept that, until she could afford some artificial means of impregnation or foreign adoption, there would be no children in her life. And if she were never able to afford it, or it took too long, she would have to accept that motherhood for her wasn’t meant to be.
The possibility felt like a knife in her chest, and for a moment she thought for sure that her heart was breaking.
“Marisa? Hey, are you crying?”
Reaching up, she touched her cheek and was surprised to find that it was damp. What was wrong with her? Embarrassed, she sniffled and wiped her face with the back of her hand.
Jake sat up next to her. “God, I’m sorry. I was just kidding. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“Jake, it wasn’t you. I’ve just got a lot on my mind today. You know, baby stuff.”
He smacked his forehead. “The fertility specialist. I completely forgot about your appointment. What did he say?”
“It’s not looking like it’s going to happen anytime soon. If ever.” Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks and she brushed them away, forcing a smile. “Just ignore me.”
Jake had learned from years of experience that solitude was the last thing Marisa wanted or needed at a time like this. She had the unhealthy habit of letting things eat away at her until a total emotional meltdown was inevitable. It looked like this would be one for the record books.
“Com’ere,” he said.
She looked up at him, her deep brown eyes full of pain. Her lower lip quivered as she bravely fought her tears. “I’m okay, really.”
“No, you’re not. I know how much having a baby means to you.” Shifting closer, he tugged her toward him. It was all the coercing she needed to dissolve into his arms. He held her, stroking her hair as a river of her tears, intermingled with his sweat, rolled down his bare chest to the waist of his pants. The sensation was almost…erotic.
Erotic? He instantly felt like a slime. She needed comfort—a shoulder to cry on. Impure thoughts involving Marisa had been excusable back in middle school when his hormones had been raging and her breasts had just begun developing. Since then, he’d managed to keep those urges in check. For the most part, at least. Every now and then he indulged in a little fantasy, like finding out what she was hiding under all of those clothes. She owned a lingerie shop. It just stood to reason that she wore sexy underthings. He could imagine her in lace—red lace. Or better yet, black.
A sudden and intense tug of arousal stole his breath. Now was definitely not the time to be thinking about black lace. Especially when it pertained to Marisa’s body. It was just that he’d never felt the caress of her hands on his bare back, or noticed how sweet her hair smelled, or how soft it felt against his cheek.
Maybe he’d just never felt the lush swell of her breasts—
Whoa, stop right there. He was not going to start thinking about her breasts. Though he had to admit that it was tough to ignore them when they pillowed so softly against him. And he realized suddenly, that his hands were straying lower, gently caressing her through her blouse, exploring places they shouldn’t be.
She chose that moment to pull back and dig a tissue out of her pocket. “I’m really sorry about this,” she said, wiping her nose. She gave him a shaky smile, tears still clinging to her long, dark lashes. “I guess I needed to vent.”
“Vent on me anytime,” he said. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“Oh, jeez, I got you all wet.” She pulled a fresh tissue out and wiped the moisture from his shoulder and chest. Sliding lower, closer to his waist, her fingers brushed against the taut skin of his stomach and a stab of desire pierced his gut. Instinctively he jerked.
She looked at him strangely, then, as if realizing what she’d done, her eyes widened and she yanked her hand back. “Sorry.”
There was a brief, awkward silence then her lower lip began to tremble and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.
It broke his heart to see her so miserable. If anyone deserved unconditional happiness, it was Marisa.
Abandoning any inappropriate thoughts, he pulled her into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Marisa. Is there anything I can do to help?”
You could have sex with me. Marisa wondered what his reaction would be if she were to blurt it out. Would he be appalled? Intrigued? Would he fall back on the blanket laughing hysterically?
Probably the latter. There was no use speculating, because it would never happen. She would never work up the nerve to ask. She would never be able to handle the rejection when she heard that inevitable no.
“It comes down to me not having enough money saved,” she said, sniffling and resting her cheek against his damp shoulder. “I considered mortgaging the shop to make up the difference, but if I’m going to have a baby, I don’t want to jeopardize my financial security.”
“If I could, I would lend you the money, but producing this CD is sucking up all of my cash. I’ve had people calling me constantly with studio work, so much I’ve had to turn some of it down, but things are still tight.”
“I’ll get over this—eventually.”
Jake’s arms tightened around her. She felt the tickle of his breath against her hair, smelled the balmy scent of the spearmint candies he bought by the case since he’d given up cigarettes. Was it just her imagination or had they been touching each other an awful lot today? Or maybe they had always touched each other and it just felt different now. Not just different, but…nice.
Too nice.
“What really sucks,” he said, “is that if we pooled our money together, we could probably do one or the other, but that would mean one of us would have to sacrifice.”
“I could still get pregnant,” she said. “I would just have to find a man to—” She realized her mistake the second the words were out, but it was too late to take them back.
The hand that had been gently rubbing her shoulder came to a dead stop. “Find a man to do what, Marisa?”
There was a long, silent pause. Marisa extracted herself from Jake’s arms and glanced down at her wrist. “Wow, will you look at the time.”
Jake noted with amusement that she wasn’t wearing a watch. “Where are you going?”
“I should head back to the shop. Lucy probably needs me.”
As Jake watched her hastily rewrap her untouched sandwich and stuff it into the cooler, everything began to make a weird sort of sense. “When I walked into the store today, what were you and Lucy talking about?”
She avoided his eyes. “You know. The sex thing.”
“But why were you talking about it?”
“No reason.” She started to get up, but he reached for her arm and tugged her back down.
“You’re blushing again,” he said.
She reached up and pressed her fingers to her cheek.
“Were you talking about getting pregnant when I walked in?” he asked.
Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, she nodded.
Holy—
Jake’s