Dream Runner (24 page)

“My feet hurt.”

His face clouded. “Serves you right, Marlea. I told you…”

“But I finished, and you owed me a tee shirt anyway.”

“I’m getting nowhere with you, am I?” AJ finally laughed.

“The tee shirt line is over there,” Marlea pointed and headed for the line with AJ following.

“Looks like she handled that,” Rissa giggled.

“Like he was going to refuse her anything.” Dench used his thumb to catch a stray drop threatening Rissa’s vision. She stood patiently, letting him mop her sweaty brow, figuring that she deserved the small pampering. “Old boy was pretty mad there, at first.”

“Meant nothing,” Rissa said with finality. “Those two couldn’t be separated if their lives depended on it.”

“Suppose we find ourselves another ride back to the house.” He kissed the top of her head. “Let them have some time to figure that out for themselves.”

“I think we can do that.” Rissa tipped her head to offer her lips—it felt like the natural thing to do. Well, that and the fact that she liked the way he kissed, and he didn’t seem to mind doing it at all. She was beginning to figure out some things for herself.

Chapter 23

“Are you sure you didn’t want to go with Rissa and Dench and the rest of the committee to eat?” AJ swung the door of the jeep wide and offered his hand.

“No, I’m glad you were willing to pass.” Slipping her hand into his, Marlea eased from her seat and winced in pain when her foot touched the ground.

“What’s wrong?” AJ looked down and saw the crimson flush climbing her damp sock. “Marlea, your foot is bleeding.”

“Oh, God.” She reached for the door and leaned heavily.

Grim-faced and wordless, AJ surrounded her with his arms and scooped her close to his body. Holding her close enough to share heartbeats, he carried her past the cozy, ivy-covered, narrow white banister and across the small, stone porch.

A wave of vertigo threatened, and she raised her arms, linking her fingers behind his strong neck. Closing her eyes, trusting his strength, Marlea let herself be carried through the lead-paned door and into the kitchen.

“Oh, Lord! What happened to this girl?”

Marlea opened her eyes to find Martha Baldwin’s worried face and fluttering apron heading her way. “I’m okay, Mrs. Baldwin.”

“You don’t look okay. You look bad, is how you look.” Martha’s eyes accused AJ, and she flapped the apron again. “What did you do to her?”

“I told her not to do what she did,” AJ said, proclaiming his innocence. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

“You’d better,” Martha fussed as AJ passed her.

“She’s going to get you, you know.” Marlea dropped her head back to AJ’s shoulder and moaned softly when he lowered her to the chintz-printed chair in her bedroom.

Kneeling in front of her, he loosened her shoe, then gingerly removed it. He watched her bite her lip, fighting not to cry out. “Hurt?”

“A little,” she lied. Her foot hurt like hell.

“Let’s see what I can do about that.” Rising, AJ went into the small bathroom. Marlea heard him run water, but was still surprised when he emerged with towels and a basin. Kneeling, he pulled rolls of gauze from the stack of towels and set them to the side. Pulling over a small tapestry-covered stool, he sat and tenderly brought her foot to the towel draped across his lap. Rolling her blood-tinged sock away, he exposed her foot.

Wanting to protest, but craving the comfort, Marlea submitted to his ministrations. It was nice to have him take charge, and she was glad that he was there to do it. Warm salted water covered her foot and the pain began to ebb. Beneath the water, his hands were sure and soothing, and Marlea was able to forget about the touch of his palm against her skin.

The towel he used to dry her foot felt so good that it made her sigh. Completing his task, AJ used the gauze to deftly wrap her injured foot, then held it in his lap. Marlea sighed again. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to make him smile as he looked up at her. “Better?”

“Much better, and for a change, it didn’t make me…you know.”

“Are you blushing?” He leaned forward and looked up into her face. “You are.” When she started to move her foot, he lay a still hand across her ankle. “Thought we had gotten over that, that we could talk about whatever came up between the two of us.”

Her breast rose and fell before she could voice the words. “You’re right.”

“Then what was the real reason for running today?”

Hesitating, Marlea measured her words. She debated a lie, but said, “I met Bianca Coltrane at the reception.” When AJ waited, Marlea knew she would have to say more. “She said that…she kind of…dared me to run.”

AJ’s face shadowed. “And you couldn’t take a dare?”

“No, AJ, I couldn’t let that dare pass unaccepted.”
You didn’t hear what she said to me, and you don’t know how much she meant it!

“Well, I know how Bianca can push buttons, especially when she puts her mind to it.”

“AJ, do we have to talk about her? I ran a race today, a 10K, and I owe it to you.” Leaning forward, Marlea held AJ’s face between her warm palms and dropped a light kiss on his forehead. “Thank you, AJ.”

“Since you were the one who did the running, maybe I owe you a little credit, too.” AJ lifted his face enough to brush Marlea’s lips with his own. “Are you up to taking any other dares?”

“I think so.” Smiling against his lips, Marlea prayed that she was on the right track. “AJ, you told me to let you know when I wanted to know what else you do well. Think you could show me now?”

“I’m good at a lot of things,” he drawled, looking deep into the intoxicating whisky and gold of her eyes. He traced a finger along the sweet curve of her cheek. “You want to be a little more specific?”

“How about something we could do in this room? Together?” She moved her gold-flecked eyes pointedly toward the four-poster bed, then back to the man.

“Marlea, is this gratitude talking? ’Cause I’m not into thank-you sex.”

Kissing him, isolated by the enticement of her lips on his and the entreaty of his tongue, she knew that she was right. What she felt had nothing to do with gratitude. “You know what?” Marlea released his face and pushed herself up from the chintz chair. “You wouldn’t even get this invitation if I didn’t mean it. I’m only going to ask you one more time; after that, I’m going to hop over there and show you what you almost missed. So do you want to make love or not?”

“Since you put it so romantically, yeah,” AJ said, standing to sweep her sweaty body into his arms. “But I think a shower is in order first.”

Marlea buried her face against the strong column of his throat and whispered into his skin, “I like the way you think, but what about my foot?”

“I think we can manage. I’ll rewrap it later.”

Taking AJ’s hand, trusting, Marlea followed him to the bathroom. Grasping the chrome handle of the shower door, AJ pulled. Opened, the shower displayed shelves holding an assortment of soaps and shower gels and a chrome basket of assorted brushes, but neither Marlea nor AJ saw them. Reaching in and adjusting the water temperature seemed an empty gesture, a play for time. They were together, and nothing else mattered.

Standing close, AJ’s thumbs claimed the bands of her panties and shorts, sliding them down her legs and off her feet. Letting him lead her, Marlea surrendered to AJ’s familiar hands as they moved along the length of her legs. His touch had always called to her, and surrendering, she welcomed it now.

He gave her a quick kiss before gently sliding her shirt over her head. An intimate glow of pleasure warmed her, sending a flush that began between her breasts and rose high along the dusky column of her throat. AJ’s fingers on her cheek, she closed her eyes, savoring his touch.

He kissed her once more, teasing her, pulling away before she wanted him to, and the spiked flush of cinnamon surged through her veins again. Marlea pulled back the shower curtain and stepped inside. “Are you coming with me, or do I have to do this alone?”

AJ’s eyes lingered longingly on the lushness of her naked flesh beneath the silvery fall of water. “No sooner said than done.” His voice was husky, but his movements were sure as he swiftly stripped away his shirt and shorts to join her.

Bracing his hands on the shower wall above her, he shared the fall of water. Turning slowly, Marlea let warmly persistent water drum along the curve of her spine. When his hands moved over her naked back, the shiver of unrelieved anticipation left her blinking.

Behind the embroidered curtain of the shower enclosure, warm water and scented soap stroked the smooth silk of Marlea’s skin, bringing her against the rougher maleness of AJ’s skin. His gasp at the exquisitely tender sense of her hand against the tight flatness of his male nipples touched her with more than anticipation. Marlea knew she would never regret what she was committed to giving.

“Marlea.” His voice made her name into music and Marlea felt blessed and christened by the water passing over them. Golden late-afternoon sunlight poured generously from the skylight, gilding their bodies as warm water liquefied their joined passion. She moved beneath the vibrating flow of water, almost gasping when it touched her.

Her hands moving over his broad shoulders brought his chest to meet the tilting slope and weight of her rounded breasts. Dark coffee-colored nipples, lifted by the cut and tease of her thoughts, stood out and reached for him. Drifting lower, his hands found the sweet curve of her waist as it bent into the lush swell of her hips and he pulled her tight against all that was most male.

But the shower alone was not what they would come craving. Opening the shower door a crack, not wanting to be chilled by cool air outside the stall, Marlea grabbed for the thick sea green Turkish bath towels hanging from a brass rack. She offered one to AJ, wrapped herself in the other, and stepped out.

At the bedside thick towels slid to the floor, landing in a heap at their feet. AJ knelt in front of her, like a servant bowing before his queen, his hands moving along the length of her long legs. When his large hands framed her hips, he softly kissed her stomach and slowly worked his way down to the groove between her thighs.

Feeling his touch, the sweet stir tempting her wetness, Marlea gripped his shoulders, and released a deeply hungry breath. AJ took his time, exploring and savoring her luscious femininity. He moved a hand inward, delicately spreading her to reveal more. She welcomed him—no part of her would escape him.

Not believing how sweet she tasted, AJ found Marlea’s gaze locked on him and smiled when her fingers tenderly touched the side of his face. His probe deepened, and she crumpled to let her breath fall hot on his shoulders, her fingers tightening there. “Oh, Lord, AJ. Quick, before it’s too late, top drawer, nightstand.”

It took a second for him to understand, but when he did, he reached for the golden coin he found in the nightstand. “Wait.” Marlea shifted to meet his gaze, and her hand covered his. “Let me do it,” she said. “Please, I want to.”

The coin glinted with stolen light as she forced his hand open. Releasing the condom into her smaller hand was more difficult than he had imagined. Relinquishing control did not offend his manhood. It was that no woman, not even Bianca, had ever been so bold, or so seductively giving as to share in this intimate ritual—and certainly, he had never asked.

“I want to,” Marlea said again, as she folded back the gold foil. “Doing this for you, for us, gives me pleasure. It lets me share more of who you are and what you have for me—what we have for each other.” Her voice was almost as soft as the lips that brushed his chest as she bent to her task.

Her tender fingers were maddeningly slow, moving with responsive deliberation that made him want her all the more. The magic of her moving fingers unrolling the thin latex shield amazed him as she shaped and molded the only barrier that either of them could allow.

When she finished, his long arms wrapped her with a protective grip that threatened to press the very air from her lungs. “This is right,” Marlea whispered, banishing the threat of Bianca Coltrane.

Falling into bed with AJ, Marlea quivered, rocked by the oceans he stirred within her, and he held her, working his way along the seamless band of her silken flesh. Tracing her navel, he slowly, steadily, loved everything in his path. Pulling him closer, her eyes still on him, Marlea’s legs seemed capable only of holding AJ.

His entrance stunned them both. Infinite, warm, and perfect, their joining felt as though their bodies had been created only for the mating of one to the other. Delicious and complete harmony, what they shared was both essential and as necessary as air. Bound to him by silken bands of muscle, Marlea lost track of herself. Clutching him, sobbing and weeping as he strained against her, her entire body felt overcome by his possession—a possession she never wanted to end.

Holding him tightly, Marlea wanted to absorb him into her very skin. She could feel the shivering edge his body skated, and she met him with all her strength. Without warning, her body convulsed around him. She could feel him grow rigid, hear him calling her name as he joined her in a seemingly endless dance of heat, desire, and satisfaction.

Threading her arms around him, she clung tightly, unaware of the desperation of her embrace. Losing track of time, minutes, hours later, bodies entwined, they lay together. AJ relaxed against her and Marlea tried not to think of his ever moving any farther away from her than he was at that instant.

He gently traced the lines of her face and whispered her name over and over again, a song in the growing darkness. Not long after, he was asleep, pinning her beneath him. In AJ’s arms, pressed by the weight of his body, Marlea had space for only one thought.

Never the same again. I’ll never be the same again.

C
hapter 24

Lying there with his arm draped across her, Marlea opened her eyes—barely. Seeing him through the screen of her lashes, she tried to isolate the moment it happened. Her thoughts roamed, sifting through their time together, and tried to pick out the exact moment she had fallen in love.
And fallen is the right word.
Life changed irrevocably, from the very second she had fallen into AJ Yarborough.

Her lashes fluttered when she realized the weight of her thoughts.
I used the ‘L’ word.
Eyes wide, she moved them to AJ’s face. Strong and clean, even in his sleep, his wide brow, high sketched cheekbones, and the lips that stole a bit of her heart each time they touched hers, were impressive.
Yes, he’s handsome, but it takes more than good looks to make a woman fall in love with a man…

She thought of the brutally erotic agony of his touch in her therapy.
It didn’t hurt, it never hurt. I was just embarrassed,
she recalled, glad that she had finally told him about it.
One thing’s for sure,
she wiggled her toes beneath the covers,
I’m feeling it in all the right places these days.
The nurses were right, the frenzy his touch ignited in her confused body after the loss of her toes had shifted, finding a time, place, and rhythm. Clinging to him in the clean-sheeted nest they created with their joined bodies, Marlea couldn’t have felt more right.

This is right, being here with a man who completes me. He makes me laugh, he hears what I say, and he speaks a language I understand, right down to my bones. With him, I always know what comes next. With AJ, I feel included, I feel…
Her gaze caressed his face.
I feel loved.
His snoring was light, his breath touching her shoulder, and Marlea tried to take comfort in the sound.
But he’s leaving
, she thought, and the loneliness had already begun.

Without really trying, she could see the numbers click into place on the digital clock standing sentry on the nightstand. 7:00 A.M. and she already felt cheated.
He’s supposed to leave for the airport at eight. I ought to wake him, maybe slip in some last minute loving.
But laying beside him, his touch felt so good, so intimate, that she was loathe to lose what she had right then.

Her bed-warmed fingers stroked the arm he had enclosed her with, and her secret smile promised that she had memorized every hair and every pore in his skin. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and knew that she would know him anywhere and anytime.
I would know his scent, his touch…
She stroked his arm again.
Shoot, I would know this man in braille.

Libby used to have a saying for it, for how she felt about her husband, Hal.
Marlea’s eyes went to the window. It was going to be one of those pretty bright-sun, blue-sky days that Georgia was known for.
But how did Libby put it?

Oh, yeah, she used to say, ‘This man is my all-day study and my midnight dream.’

Closing her hand and arm over his, Marlea rolled to her hip and pressed her body closer to his.
‘My all-day study and my midnight dream.’ The girl ain’t never lied.

At her back, AJ’s breathing lightened, and Marlea’s eyes went back to the clock—7:10am.
Fifty minutes left, then I’ll have to say goodbye.

He would only be gone a few days—back on Friday. She moved carefully, matching her curves to his planes and lengths.
He’s going to New York on business. He’s going to sign a few contracts, shake a few hands, maybe do some publicity shots, and then he’ll come back home—to me.

Come back to me? Now when did I get so possessive?
The hand of his encircling arm closed on her shoulder, and she reached to guide it lower. His hand followed her lead, teasing as it went.

He’s awake, and he’s mine: at least, if sleeping with a man for seven nights in a row gives me any kind of right…Time has nothing to do with what I have with AJ.

“Morning.”

Soft and throaty, his early-morning voice was all the invitation Marlea needed. Her eyes told him what she wanted. Barely breathing, never fearing rejection, Marlea moved closer, letting him travel her skin; all that lay between her soul and the world. Accepting her touch in return, they teased, and almost as if by unspoken agreement, avoided the places God made to create sexual energy.

His fingers touched her face, bringing a hint of his familiar manly scent. It was a smell so deeply ingrained that it must have been there when he was born, and when he folded back her palm, Marlea wondered what he smelled on the skin of her hand, but wouldn’t ask.

Caressing and being caressed, she could have stayed there for more time than a clock could tell. Stroking him incited familiar heat between her legs, and she knew what he would find if he touched her there.
When
, she sighed.

His fingers traced circles, intricate and arcane patterns on her breasts. Questing, his fingertips seemed to taste her, like a gourmet delicacy. Provoking, lingering, he took his time sampling her skin. Her nipples hardened and he played with them, sometimes aggressive like turning the buttons of an old radio, other times delicate like a shimmering brush of feathers.

Simmering, ready, and knowing that it was no secret, Marlea tried to keep pace with him. Moving across her belly, down her legs, stroking at her thigh, a single finger tracing where he would not yet go, she knew he felt her heat. His touch was soft and intoxicating, bearing promise and threatening fulfillment.

Almost floating over his skin, Marlea’s hands followed their own quest. Finding swollen expectancy, she was almost afraid to touch what she had awakened craving. When he rolled, taking her with him, she gasped, feeling him thicken, readying for her. Her fingers claimed him, stroking. Touch changed him, more at the bottom than the top, as her fingers wrapped around, exciting him to grow in her hand.

His breathing changed, but his touch was unrelenting. His search brought him low to find her true center exposed and welcoming, and he touched her as she might have touched herself. Finding what he sought, with fingers dipped in the dew of her passion, he touched the bud within and it rose to greet him. Marking the same pattern at her core that he had imprinted on her swollen breasts, AJ drew her closer beneath the comforting blanket of his long-muscled body.

Trembling along the thin lip of orgasm, she heard him moan and understood. Her fingers twined through his and she wanted to echo his cry as thought blasted her away to a place where clocks held no sway. AJ’s bare leg swept hers and he took full possession of her, laying claim to all that she so willingly offered.

But the clock was still there when her heavy-lidded eyes focused. 7:55 A.M. She felt him move. “AJ?”

“Shh,” he whispered. “Don’t get up.”

She heard his bare feet whisper over the oriental carpet beside the bed. She heard his steps move farther away. She heard the shower come on in the bathroom. “AJ?”

Then he was beside her again, his kiss a lick of fire at the nape of her neck. “Shh, I’m fine. You should go back to sleep.”

She felt him move across the room again, knew when he was in the shower. She heard him moving beneath the fall of water and thought of his words:
‘You should go back to sleep.’

She threw back the covers and made her way across the floor.
‘You should go back to sleep,’
he said.

Like that was gonna happen.

* * *

“Seems like I’m going to be taking a later flight,” AJ said into the phone. “Yeah, dude, I know it’s not like me to miss a flight, but I had a good reason this time.” Oblivious to the stares his sister and housekeeper directed toward him, he bent to kiss the ear of a blushing and obviously happy Marlea. “I’ll be at Kennedy by two, and your office no later than four.” He listened, then raised a thick eyebrow in Marlea’s direction. She shook her head. “No, man. I’ll be alone, this trip.”

Sharp-eyed, neither Rissa nor Mrs. Baldwin missed the interplay.

Finishing his call, AJ dropped the phone on the counter and walked over to the table. “You’re sure?”

Marlea looked up at him, the soft glow of her skin striking in the light. “I’m sure, and I’ll still be here when you get back.” She raised her hand, offered her little finger, and never took her eyes from his.

AJ linked his finger to hers and brought it to his lips. “You’d better be, ’cause I promise I’ll always be there for you.”

Marlea pulled the joined fingers to her lips and smiled. “Now where else would I go?”

When she released his finger, AJ was slow to move away from her. “I’m just sayin’, is all.”

“Could you two just say goodbye so we can get to the airport?” Dench leaned against the doorframe, his words breaking the spell Marlea and AJ shared.

The phone rang as Marlea opened her mouth. “For you,” Martha Baldwin said, offering the phone to Marlea.

Surprised, Marlea took the phone from the older woman’s hand. “Hello?” She frowned, then brightened. “Of course, I remember you, and today is fine.” She listened, looked at AJ, then nodded. “Well, I’m not sure what I have to offer…but, yes…I can do it. Two o’clock, and here is fine.”

Hovering and curious, Martha Baldwin took the phone from Marlea’s hand, making sure to stay close enough to hear.

“So who was it?” Rissa slid across a chair to get closer.

“Adrian Kessler, from
Atlanta Sports and Fitness
magazine. He wanted to follow up on his suggestion from the reception.”

“What was his suggestion?” Dench came close enough to grab AJ’s raincoat and laptop.

“You’re gonna do it, right?” AJ urged.

“All these questions; just a moment, please.” Her brows rose, but her grin matched AJ’s when she directed her attention to him. “Aren’t you the man who just promised that you would always be with me? I do this interview, and where will you be?”

“With you in spirit, but I still have to get to New York.” He bent to kiss Marlea’s cheek, managing to catch her mouth in the process.

Dench shifted the laptop to his other hand. “You gotta get to the airport first, dude.”

* * *

Sliding into the small booth at DayBreak’s, Bianca Coltrane tried to hold onto what had begun as a good day. “I had the appointment, all I had to do was get there.” She looked down at her hand. She was still clutching the broken heel of her Via Spiga pump. “Useless thing,” she muttered, tossing it onto the tabletop. Pulling her cellphone from her sidewalk-sale Prada handbag, she scrolled through the phone numbers until she found the right one.

A server materialized and raised an eyebrow.

“Coffee. Whatever you have in a French roast, and a paper,
The Times
,” Bianca snapped, turning her back on the white-shirted woman. Staring through the broad plate glass, she cursed the passing taxicabs.
Where the hell were they when I needed one?

She pressed the numbers on her phone and waited. Finally connected, Bianca tried to control her frustration, but she wasn’t used to trying and not very good at it.

“Look,” she huffed into the ear of Guilliame du Verriers, scion of The House of du Verriers, when she ultimately got through to him, “I’ve broken the heel of my shoe, can’t find a cab, and can’t possibly get to your office in less than an hour. We’ll have to change my appointment.”

Guilliame’s very Gaelic hum came clearly over the line, and Bianca didn’t like the sound of it. When she pressed, he hummed again. “Look, Guilliame, we had a deal and you’re going to stick to it. You’re just going to have to change my appointment; pull out your date book and pencil me in!”

“Perhaps this is not possible—not today. Perhaps next month…”

Bianca’s choking cough clogged the phone for a second. “No, that’s not acceptable, Guilliame. We both know how much I have invested in this line, and I’m not going to let you back me down. You’re going to do business with me, and you’re going to see me.”

Monsieur du Verriers did not take well to pressure, especially when it came from an overdone, simplistic American bent on using her good looks and fabulous figure to compensate for a lack of talent. He drew a sonorously deep breath through his long and aristocratic nose and then passed it through his thin-lipped mouth, phrasing his answer. When he finally spoke, his accent thickened, but he enunciated clearly. He didn’t want her to miss his meaning. “We can certainly do that for you, Mademoiselle Coltrane. We will change your appointment—to next spring. You will contact me then.
Au voir
.”

“Hello?” She took the phone from her ear and stared at it.
Oh, no, he did not hang up on me!
She clamped the phone to her ear—nothing.
And told me to call back next year?

Stunned, Bianca flapped a hand at the server. She barely saw the olive-skinned, sloe-eyed, sometime actress, sometime model as the young woman set coffee, cream, and the day’s
New York Times
in front of her.

Folding her phone, her mind raced.
I should have listened to Roy. He warned
me about mortgaging the condo. But I had so much faith in my line and du Verriers’s promise.
So why hadn’t she had more companies interested in it?
People loved it in Atlanta.
But none of them called her office in New York. She pushed a hand through the thickness of her hair. The House of du Verriers had been the only one she had to pin her hope on—now a broken heel had toppled that hope. Well, a broken heel and a funky French attitude.
Guilliame probably found somebody else’s chest to drool down.

Thinking of the first time that the vainglorious, smarmy, over-perfumed man kissed her didn’t help.
Wrapped his arms around me, pressed his lips to mine, and came all over himself. Yeah, that was funny and I didn’t even laugh out loud. And to think of how many dinners I let him buy, just so he could hope that I would crawl up in a bed with him and let him press his fat hairy belly on me—ugh!

But this is not over—I won’t let it be.
She thought hard.
I know powerful men, men with money, and they are only men. One of them will come through for me.
She opened the paper, habit taking her to the sports pages.
Someone I know must be flush enough to bail me out.