Meant To Be (39 page)

“Oh, God. You’re right.” Ella had come home sick from preschool three days ago, and that was the standard grace period Marienne usually got before catching things from her. She rested her head on the kitchen table.

****

Daniel smiled at Marienne’s whining. She was acting like Ella.

“Drink your water.” He opened another cabinet and reached for the Tylenol. He shook out two and returned the bottle to the top shelf.

“Here.” He rubbed his knuckles against the top of her hand. “Take these.”

She groaned.

“Take them.” He nudged a second time. Heat radiated from her skin. Enticing. Alluring. He shuddered, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. “Come on now, be a good girl.”

She sat up and scowled. He smiled and dropped the tablets into her upturned hand. The backs of his fingers grazed her palm and a tingling flush rippled through him.

She stared at him, eyes defiant, then popped the pills into her mouth and took a sip of water. She flipped her head back and swallowed hard, an action that caused Daniel to gulp as well. He wanted nothing more than to swoop down and kiss her with total abandon, to feel her overheated body, to be immersed inside her.

He said the only words he could think. “Let’s get you up to bed.”

As he walked into her bedroom, he stopped, staring at what appeared to be a brand new mattress and bed frame, still covered in protective film. “Is your mattress always wrapped in plastic?” he asked.

“What?” She stepped into the room. “Shit, I totally forgot.” She sat down on the floor with a thump. “They delivered it this morning, while I was rushing out the door to get Ella to pre-school. I made them leave it and go. They had me sign a special waiver and everything because I didn’t let them unwrap it. Shit.” She lay down on the floor.

Daniel laughed. Now she was really behaving like Ella, apart from her repeated use of the word
shit
.

“That’s easy enough to remedy.” He started to remove the plastic from the bedpost.

“No.” She tried to get up. “Whoaa.” She lay back down on the carpet.

“Yes.” He ignored her protest. He saw her gazing up at him as he worked to tear away the wrapping.

“You’re undressing my bed.” She burst into a fit of giggles.

“You’re delirious.” Daniel laughed, but the words ‘undressing’ and ‘bed’ brought many other thoughts to his mind. He glanced down at her, flat on her back, knees seductively folded to one side, the knuckles of her outstretched arm brushing lazily back and forth against the carpet. He wanted nothing more than to scoop her up and carry her to the newly naked bed, but knew that couldn’t happen.
Not now, at least.

She smiled, not making things any easier on him at all.

“Where would I find sheets?” His voice was huskier than usual.

“Over there.” She pointed toward the dresser.

“Nice,” he said, as he touched them. They were the softest brushed cotton he’d ever felt.

“T-shirt sheets.”

“What?” He started to make the bed.

“Supposed to be comfy like a t-shirt.” Her voice drifted off. “I wanted something new.” Her eyes fluttered closed.

“What?” He flipped a pillow under his chin as he struggled it into a pillowcase.

“I wanted everything in this room to be new. A fresh start. Comfortable. Things I want, for a change.” Her voice drifted off again.

“Fresh starts are good.” He noticed that her eyes were shut again.

“Mmmmmmmmm.”

“Come on, sleepy girl, time for you to get into your comfy new bed and take a nap.” He extended a hand to help her up, but she was already asleep.

Her cheeks were a warm pink from the fever, her hair matted against her forehead, her lower lip hanging open enticingly. All he could think was how totally and completely in love with her he was. He sighed and knelt beside her, then scooped her into his arms. “Here we go,” he said. She leaned her half-asleep head against his chest. He placed her on her brand new bed, slid his arms out from beneath her and started to step away.

“Stay.” She reached out and grabbed his arm with her overly warm hand. “Stay with me,” she whispered, eyes still closed.

He sighed again as he slid into bed alongside her, locking his hands together behind his neck as he lay back against the new headboard.

“That’s better,” she said. To his surprise she curled toward him and placed her head on his chest.

He opened his mouth, but realized she was already asleep again, her breathing slow and steady, her body rising and falling against his. He noticed that his hands were beginning to go numb, probably because all his blood was elsewhere. He unfolded his arms, shaking them gently so as not to disturb her. He’d thought so often about lying in bed with her, not quite like this, but still. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. As he focused on her breathing, he too drifted off.

The sound of car doors slamming startled him. Marienne was still sleeping, her heat leaving an imprint on his chest. He heard voices coming toward the house and realized Ella was being dropped off from her play date. He eased Marienne onto the pillow and slipped out of the room.

He rubbed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair as he trotted down the staircase.

“Daniel,” Ella yelled when he opened the front door. She flung herself against him, as always.

“Hi, Ella.” He rubbed her back as she hugged his leg. “Hi, Donna,” he said to Nancy’s mom as she smiled at him from the walkway.

“How’s it going?”

“Good.” He flashed back to being in Marienne’s bed. “How’ve you been?”

“Tired.” She laughed, looking between Ella and her daughter, who waved furiously from her car seat, grinning.

Daniel waved back.

“Mommy, let’s go, I’m hungry!” Nancy said.

“They were at the park all afternoon, refused to eat anything, now they’re both starving.” Donna shrugged at Daniel.

“Thanks for driving her home,” Daniel said.

“No problem. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

Ella stood in the open doorway, holding Daniel’s hand. They watched the car pull out of the driveway and waved goodbye.

“I’m hungry.” Ella looked up at Daniel. “Where’s Mommy?”

Daniel knelt down beside her. “Mommy’s in bed napping. She’s got a fever, just like you had last week, so she needs her rest.”

Ella frowned.

Daniel nodded sympathetically, “I know. It’s no fun being sick. But no worries, she’ll be all better in a day or two, just like you.”

Ella nodded as she brushed her hair back with her hands.

“So,” Daniel said. “What would you like to eat?”

“French toast.”

“French toast?” Daniel exaggerated a look of shock. “For dinner?”

“Yes.” She giggled.

“Your wish is my command.”

“I’ll help.” She scampered into the kitchen.

He followed, smiling as she pulled open the heavy refrigerator door and grabbed the carton of milk. She looked just like Marienne, completely comfortable in the kitchen. He adored her.

“You do the stove part.” She pulled a mixing bowl out of the cupboard next to the dishwasher. “I’ll do the eggs.”

****

The smell of French toast wafted up to the bedroom. Marienne was disoriented, unsure if it was morning or nighttime, confused by the daylight. Then she remembered. She reached up to feel her forehead.
Not as warm as before.
She breathed in the aroma.
It smells so good.
She heard voices downstairs. Ella’s delicate chirping followed by Daniel’s deeper tones. She smiled at the thought of them together, and wondered how long Ella had been home.

She stretched, making sure she wasn’t dizzy. She felt better than she had earlier, but still not good. She walked to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, then changed into a fresh t-shirt and a pair of lounge pants. Glancing in the mirror, she wondered if her face was flushed from the fever or from the memory of having been in bed with Daniel.

Her stomach rumbled as she made her way downstairs. As she rounded the corner into the kitchen, she saw Daniel at the stove, spatula in hand. Ella stood on a chair beside him, waiting to dip the next slice of bread into the egg batter.
I love him.
The thought popped into her mind even more readily than it had the other night.

“Mommy!” Ella ran and flung her arms around Marienne’s legs, the same greeting she usually gave Daniel.

“Hi sweetie.” Marienne bent over and hugged her. “How was your play date?”

“Good.” Ella ran back toward Daniel and pointed to the plate. “We made French toast!”

“I see that.” Marienne smiled as Daniel turned toward her.

“Feeling any better?”

“Some.”

He smiled, and their eyes met.

“I want to eat,” Ella said.

“Yes,” Daniel said. “Let’s eat.”

They sat down at the table, together.

“Mmmmmmmm,” Ella said, as she took her first bite. “Yummy.”

“This is the best French toast I’ve ever had.” Daniel grinned at Ella, who beamed back at him.

Marienne glanced back and forth at the shared love between them. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

Daniel stirred beneath the covers, wondering what time it was, as his brain struggled to transition into consciousness. He curled up then stretched, rubbing his face against his pillowcase. His morning erection grazed the bed as he rolled onto his back. His hand traveled downward and his fingers curled around himself. Images of Marienne flooded his mind.

Thoughts of Marienne were constantly in his head, but his attraction to her had grown exponentially in recent months. His desire to kiss her, hold her, touch her, make love to her, consumed him. He moaned as he indulged the fantasy with long, slow strokes. There was no guilt attached to these moments. No pretense of regret, no more torn loyalties to Justine or Frank, no need for stolen moments of privacy in the shower. It was just Daniel, wanting Marienne, in every way possible.

He arched his neck, the back of his head rubbing hard against the pillow as the images overtook him. Marienne’s mouth, the mouth he constantly thought of placing his own lips on. Her breasts, which he could clearly imagine pressed to his chest. Her full hips rolling in toward his. Her body opening to him, welcoming him. Her sweet vanilla scent flooded his memory as he imagined burying his face in her hair and burying himself within her. Her delicate hands left imagined trails along his body.

He pushed the bed sheets aside, allowing himself freer strokes. His pace quickened. The slight breeze that came in through the window caressed his body along with his hands. The images flashed faster. He pumped harder, his eyes pressed closed. A deep groan escaped his throat as the pleasure pulsated out of him. He lay, breathing hard, the breeze calming him as it washed over his sweat-coated body.

The sound of the doorbell interrupted his reveling. He realized with a sudden burst of both clarity and panic that the person ringing the bell was Marienne. She’d said she was stopping by this morning after she dropped Ella at playgroup. She needed him to go with her to pick up Ella’s new dollhouse.

“Bugger.” He was fully awake and equally aware of how unprepared he was to answer the door. “Bugger.” He grabbed a towel.

The breeze once again reminded him of the open window, the window that opened right above the front porch, where Marienne now stood. His mind raced as he pulled on sweatpants and grabbed a t-shirt.

How loudly did I moan? Could she have heard me?

His face burned at the thought as he thumped down the stairs. He opened the door, still straightening his shirt, and ran a jittery hand through his bed-head.

“Sorry.” He stepped aside to let her in, hand raking through his hair again as he tried to strike a natural pose. Thoughts raged in his mind.
Did she hear me? She couldn’t possibly, could she?
He shook his head and took a deep breath through his nose. He looked up to find her staring right at him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
A knowing smile? Or just a ‘you-overslept-didn’t-you?’ smile.
For the life of him, he couldn’t tell. His cheeks burned hotter.

“Rough morning?” she asked, the smile taking over her face as she wandered into his kitchen, throwing a playful backward glance at him as she went.

Oh God.
He followed her.
Does she know or is she so disarming at this point that all rational thought is simply lost?

****

Marienne walked straight to his coffee maker and began to brew a pot. He seemed to need one this morning. Daniel was never a morning person, but today he looked particularly flustered. And flushed, she noted as she watched him busy himself with the stack of mail on his countertop.

He was quiet and distracted, as though she’d interrupted him in the middle of something. She looked at him closer, noticing that his hair was sticking to both the nape of his neck and his forehead. It took no more than another second for her to come up with the two most likely reasons that he would be sweaty first thing on a cool summer morning. Either he’d been on the elliptical or, she blushed at the thought, perhaps he’d been otherwise engaged.