Free Home Fires by Barbara Delinsky Page A

head in gentle wonder. “No, honey. I’m not married. If I was I would never have invited you here tonight. I might have sentenced myself to a hell of frustration, but I wouldn’t have made love to you. I do have some scruples.”
    Hiding her relief with a renewed assault on her hair, Deanna turned to silently scrutinize her own image. She had given herself to a man tonight and she barely knew him. What did that say about her values? What did it say about her past … her future? Who was he really? Had he ever been married? And what was he doing in Atlanta?
    Mark grinned knowingly. “Okay, Ms. Hunt. Is there something else you’d like to ask?”
    â€œNo!” she vowed softly.
    â€œYou’re sure? I thought you’d be curious.”
    She found no amusement in his own apparent amusement. Perhaps that was what hardened her. “The less I know, the easier it will be …”
    She’d hit her mark. His features sobered instantly. “To walk out on me?”
    Grimacing, she softened. “It’s not quite that way.”
    â€œBut that is the end effect,” he countered quietly.
    Holding her hair up with one hand, Deanna blushed to realize that her silk clips were back on the bed where they’d fallen in the storm of passion. Mark produced them magically from his pocket
    â€œI’d like to see you again,” he persisted.
    She felt the spark of his touch when he calmly handed the clips to her and she tried to dispel its searing effect by fiddling with her hair.
    â€œThat’s not possible.” With a few deft tucks her hair was acceptably secured. Determined to leave, she turned
from the mirror. But Mark filled the doorway, hand posted on either side of the frame. “Please,” she begged. “It’s very late. I’ll be missed.”
    â€œFirst … a kiss.” He stood firm, unwavering.
    â€œMark … please …”
    â€œA kiss.”
    Her shoulders sagged under the weight of frustration. Lifting a hand, she rubbed at the tension above her eyes. “Why? There’s no point. What would it accomplish?”
    His lips twitched in humor. “Why don’t we see?”
    She should have taken warning at his sureness, but there were too many emotions warring in her mind to allow for clear thought. “Let me go,” she whispered in a final plea as she gazed the wistful distance up at him.
    â€œOne kiss,” he teased with precise enunciation, his smile gently masculine and insistent
    â€œMark …”
    â€œOne!”
    Deanna sensed that he wouldn’t release her until she’d complied with what seemed on the surface to be such a simple request She felt her own growing agony and knew that she had to get away soon. His closeness was a bittersweet torment
    Mindful only of her need to escape, she stepped close, tipped her head up and put her lips tentatively to his. Therein lay the catch. He hadn’t moved. He still filled the doorway, blocking her flight. Only his lips moved … but with devastating effect.
    It was as though Deanna were being given one final glimpse of the heaven she’d sampled earlier. At her first timid touch Mark’s lips began a sweet caress that blossomed to tantalize her with its honey. It coaxed and tasted, savored and revered until it had successfully extracted Deanna’s unconscious sigh of capitulation.
    Quite without knowing it, she slid her arms about his waist to the warm, vibrantly muscular span of his back
and returned his kiss with the same poignant need it had itself demonstrated. She knew only the mindless pleasure she felt—the comfort, the warmth, the delicious languor seeping slowly through her. When Mark finally dragged his head up and set her back, she was breathless.
    â€œWell?” he croaked, breathing heavily himself. “ Did it accomplish anything?” His brown eyes glowed as she knew hers must have done.
    But she couldn’t