If You Come Back To Me (If You Come Back To Me 1)

Mari glanced at Marc, and merriment swelled inside her. “Jealous?” she murmured.

He just muttered under his breath, grabbed her hand and led her away from the adorable, amorous bear.

On the way back to Marc’s, they window-shopped in boutiques on Rush and Oak Street. When Mari saw a swim-and-dive shop, she asked Marc if they could go inside.

“Didn’t you bring along the gold swimming suit?” Marc asked when he saw her holding up a sleek mail-lot.

“Yes,” Mari murmured distractedly. “But I’d feel like an idiot wearing that thing in public.”

She glanced up when he made a disgusted sound. “You’re not going to buy a one-piece, are you?” he asked, sounding like she was considering the ultimate sellout.

She just gave him a condemning glance and kept browsing. She lost track of what he was doing, but he reappeared by her side a few minutes later.

“Here. How about this one. It’s not quite so skimpy, but it’s sexy as hell, like something a James Bond woman would wear,” he growled near her ear.

Mari glanced over and saw him dangling a white bikini on his index finger. An innocent smile crossed his face.

“It’ll look great with your tan,” he coaxed.

“All right. You have good taste,” Mari conceded after a moment. The suit really was cute and had a good deal more coverage than Deidre’s bikini. She reached for it, but Marc yanked it away.

“I’ll get it for you. What?” he asked when she protested. “It’s the only time a woman has ever told me I had good taste in clothing. I want to be able to brag about it every time I see you in it.”

A few minutes later they exited the air-conditioned boutique and stepped into the sweltering heat of the midday sun.

“Let’s catch a cab home,” Marc suggested, already stepping to the curb in search of a taxi. They were back inside his pleasantly cool condominium within fifteen minutes.

“Do you want anything to drink before we go up to the pool?” Marc offered as he headed directly to the kitchen.

“No, thanks. I’m going to change.”

Marc had more than good taste when it came to swimsuits. He knew her coloring and figure to a T. The suit not only fit her perfectly, but it played up all her assets without seeming indecent. The halter-style bra had sufficient padding in it to make her feel covered but still managed to shape her breasts in a flattering manner, creating a sexy, but tasteful, décolletage. The bottoms were very abbreviated boy shorts that hugged her hips and rode low on her belly. Mari turned back and forth in front of the mirror in the guest bath, inspecting her stomach critically. Was it, indeed, swelling a fraction of an inch farther than its usual limit? She didn’t think so, but maybe…

“Mari? You almost ready?” Marc called down the hallway.

Mari started, her hand perched just below the slight convexity of her belly. It all hit her in a rush again; that was Marc Kavanaugh calling for her to join him.

She was cradling the tiny beginnings of their baby in her palm.

“I’ll be right out,” she shouted.

She scurried into her sundress and studied her face in the bathroom mirror. When Dr. Hardy had consulted with her, she’d mentioned that many women chose to wait to tell family members, friends and acquaintances about their pregnancies until after the eighth week. Miscarriages could occur, and if everyone already knew about the pregnancy, it made it all that much more difficult to have to break the news at every turn.

Most couples were cautious, even when they might be married and have loving, supportive families. She was willing to bet that the majority of the couples Dr. Hardy talked about were married and didn’t live thousands of miles apart. Most of those couples didn’t have the emotional baggage and charged history she and Marc shared.

Surely she wouldn’t be doing too much harm by keeping quiet about the pregnancy for the time being. Surely she’d be doing Marc a huge favor by sparing him this news for a short while? He’d feel obligated to make major, life-altering changes, and what if those changes weren’t even warranted, in the end?

Mari honestly couldn’t decide if she was being selfish by harboring that thought, or if she was being caring toward Marc by shielding him for the moment. She could see the argument both ways.

Nothing had seemed certain to her since she’d seen Marc in the lobby of the Palmer House. It seemed as if the ground beneath her feet had become prone to frequent earthquakes, and her typical confident stance had turned wary with every new step.

She entered the living room and saw Marc standing near the door wearing board shorts and a turquoise T-shirt. His briefcase was on his shoulder, and he had several towels tucked beneath his arm. As usual, his gaze struck her like a sensual caress.

Marc’s desire was the one thing she could count on with the certainty of the rising sun. But was that enough to cushion them for what would undoubtedly be the rough ride of the future?

Marc was glad to see they were the only residents on the pool deck besides an older woman who was doing laps. Hopefully the lady wouldn’t linger once she’d completed her exercise, and he’d have Mari all to himself. He set his briefcase on a table shaded by an umbrella and joined Mari by a couple of recliners in the full sun.

“It’s beautiful up here,” she murmured, walking over to the view that featured Lake Michigan to the east and the skyscraper-packed shoreline to the north and south. She turned and smiled at him as he removed his T-shirt. “I can’t believe we’re nearly the only ones up here.”