lingering on her breasts as her chest rose up and down. She noticed his cheeks were slashed with color and his hands were balled into fists. And he was breathing hard. Harder than she’d ever noticed before. And he looked as though simply staring at her caused him a kind of gut-wrenching agony. He’d seen her in a swimsuit countless times. But this was different. This felt different. Her skin prickled instinctively, and she shuddered, not from fear, but something else.
Awareness.
Attraction.
Desire.
Realization coursed through her blood, heated her skin and forced her to admit something that had been simmering beneath the surface for a long time.
She was attracted to Joe.
And it was mutual.
Without thinking, she reached up and laid her hand on his arm. He was burning, on fire. Even through the fabric of his shirt, she could feel the heat generated from his skin. Mariella met his gaze instantly. And saw longing.
He groaned, as though the sound was pulled from somewhere deep within his chest, and Mariella was lost. And then, suddenly, she was against him, breast to chest, hip to hip. His arms came around her, and within seconds he found her mouth. He kissed her, hard, as though he was trying to exorcise her from his thoughts...his very soul. And Mariella kissed him back. She’d forgotten this kind of kissing. It had been so long since any man had captured her lips in such an urgent, possessive way. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, and she accepted it greedily. Mariella clutched his shoulders in a frantic effort to get closer to him. He touched her breast, rubbing his thumb across her nipple, and the sensitive bud tightened instantly, sending a quick and hot message to her brain and then swiftly to the place between her thighs. His tongue felt so good against her own, moving around her mouth with a kind of erotic expertise that quickly drugged her senseless. All coherent thoughts were forgotten. Nothing mattered. Just Joe. Just his tongue in her mouth and his hand on her breast, his thumb doing insane things to her nipple. Every part of her was on fire, lit from within, suddenly more alive than she could ever remember being. She’d forgotten this feeling. She’d pushed it deep into a part of herself where passion and desire didn’t exist. She was a mother and a wife. But in that moment, she felt like a lover. He was rock hard against her, pressing his arousal into her belly, making her mindless with need.
“I want you,” he muttered against her lips as the kissing went on and on. “I want you so much,” he said, dragging air into his lungs as he kissed her jaw and her neck and the insanely sensitive spot below her ear. He sucked on her lobe, whispering, grinding closer, and Mariella wrapped her arms around his waist. She threw her head back, and he moved lower, pushing aside her bikini top, and then his mouth closed over one straining, aching nipple. Sensation arrowed directly between her thighs as he suckled the tender flesh. She’d forgotten that heat, that need, that feeling that told her there was more to be had. Much more. All she could want. He moved back up, kissing, nipping, licking her skin.
“I’m crazy for you,” he admitted. “I want you so much.”
Mariella groaned as his tongue thrust between her teeth, pressing closer, feeling him grow harder, wanting him with an intensity that was suddenly terrifying. “I want you, too.”
And then, as though her capitulation had somehow switched on a light inside him, Joe heaved his mouth from hers and staggered back, dragging deep breaths into his lungs.
Mariella sagged against the pillar, staring at him, wild-eyed and confused. Her lips throbbed, her breasts were hard, her nipples peaked and aching for his touch, and there was a heat between her thighs that she hadn’t felt since forever. But he took another step back. And then another. And another. And then he turned, moving toward the edge of the pool, his broad shoulders moving up and down jerkily. She quickly pulled the bikini top back into place and grabbed the edges of her wrap, covering herself. Her entire body was on fire, and her knees felt so weak she could barely stand. All she wanted was to go to him, to help alleviate the ethical crisis he was clearly experiencing.
But she didn’t. She stayed where she was and waited for Joe to speak. But a moment later, Vanessa returned to the patio carrying a pitcher of sangria. Were her housekeeper’s hands shaking? Mariella couldn’t be sure. Had she seen them? Mariella hoped not. Vanessa had always proven to be discreet, but the last thing she wanted was anyone witnessing what she and Joe had just been doing in broad daylight. Once the other woman hurriedly disappeared, Mariella found the strength in her legs to walk toward the pool. Joe turned before she reached him. He was pale, stricken.
“God forgive me,” he said raggedly.
Mariella reached out and put a finger to his lips. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t be sorry.”
He grabbed her hand and held it against his chest, and she felt him trembling. “I’m gonna go straight to hell for this.”
“Maybe,” she said and moved closer. “But I’ll go with you.”
And then she was in his arms again and his lips were on hers and his tongue was thrusting into her mouth and his hips were grinding into hers. And, suddenly, nothing else mattered.
* * *
Nora tapped her long, perfectly manicured red nails across the screen and stared at the photograph. Tabloid photos were often grainy and indistinguishable. But she knew what she was looking at. And whom.
Harrison’s children.
The two youngest. Dining out at one of her favorite Paris restaurants. Laughing. Looking as though they didn’t have a care in the world.
She studied them for a few moments and noticed their similarities. Both had brown eyes. Harrison had blue. They both had the same jawline, the same arched brows. Harrison certainly produced handsome children.
The notion made her instinctively touch her belly.
If her baby looked like either of them, then she’d be happy.
She couldn’t help wondering if Harrison would be joining his children soon. She knew how much he adored Paris. And from all accounts, he would be out of the private clinic and back on his feet very soon. The interview she’d watched made it clear he was doing well. She’d called the hospital, but they refused to tell her anything. She wasn’t family, she wasn’t going to be told anything. But she suspected he’d be transferred to a private clinic. Somewhere expensive and discreet. Because, of course, the Marshalls could afford the very best. And that fiery Latina he was married to would demand everything her own way, so Harrison’s swift recovery was a given. But she missed him desperately. And was mad at him, too. She wasn’t the sort of woman used to being discarded. But he had...he’d dumped her well and truly.
“I am with child,” she whispered.
Harrison slowly lowered the paper from in front of his face. “What?” His face hardened. “This can’t happen.” He pointed a finger at her that could have easily been a knife. “It won’t happen.” He didn’t say another word. He picked up his jacket from the back of the chair and brushed by her.
“Harrison...”
He kept walking to the door.
He never looked back.
The memory of his parting words still stung.
She rubbed her stomach.
She was having a baby. Harrison’s baby.
Nora looked at the photograph again and smiled to herself. She knew how much Harrison loved his children. He’d told her countless times that they were the most important thing in the world to him.
And you will be, too, mon bébé.
I promise.
She reread the article. So, the Marshall kids were heading back home in two days. She quickly considered her options and came up with only one.
It was time she reminded Harrison Marshall that he was definitely going to be a papa again.