Outside The Lines: Love Beyond Reason, #2

Prologue

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October

He shattered her convictions with a touch.

His breath was hot on her neck, his hands soft at her sides, gripping her hips and pulling her forward. His mouth worked her over, warm lips pressing softly against hers, nibbling, tasting.

And she gave. She gave without thought, without hesitation. Desire raged through her and flattened her resolve, her good sense.

He brought his hands to her face, traced her brows, and ran a finger along her cheek to her jaw. A smile came to his face—the square jaw and full lips. The dimple on the right that appeared at the most unexpected moments. His laughter had been just as startling, just as thrilling.

Her heart pounded.

She wanted him.

With shaking hands, she began to unfasten the long row of buttons down the front of his soft, flannel shirt.

Her choice. No regrets.

But he covered her hands. We don’t have to do this.

I want to.

He hesitated but a moment then dug strong fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp. His eyes shone, the twinkle in them as familiar as the night sky. And then he pulled her close, tucking her into the crook of his arm as he kissed her—slow and easy. As if they had all the time in the world.

She wished for more than all the time in the world. She wanted freedom from restraint, from expectations. Desperate to find her own way...

When his hands lifted the edge of her shirt and came to rest on her skin, her wish was granted. It was her turn, her turn for everything. She wanted it all. She wanted him.

He stripped her bare.

And she reveled in his hot gaze.

Slowly, his shirt came off, and he stepped out of his khaki pants until he was in just a pair of dark blue Hanes. She cleared her throat, nerves set aflame within her. David, she whispered, her gaze flying to his stormy green eyes.

He was, by far, the finest looking specimen of a man she’d ever seen. His abdomen was ridged with muscle. His chest and shoulders had definitely seen the inside of a gym...or maybe he was a lumberjack. My word! What do you do?

He laughed and flexed an arm, making a funny face at the same time. Just this and that, he answered. Then he ripped open a small packet.

The pulse in Maria’s neck pounded, hard. She was going to do this, throw aside all her rules, and make love with him.

Hey. He smiled again, waving two fingers at her and pointing to his face. My eyes are up here.

Oh, right, sorry. And she grinned, taking one last peek below. 

He pounced. She yelped, as they fell to the bed then laughed with him until his kisses took her to a place where all laughing stopped.

Touch on touch. Breath, mingling. Hands, discovering everything that was still a mystery. He was everywhere. Kneading her, opening her, filling her.

She gasped, her hands gripping his shoulders, her legs circling his waist as he began a slow glide, in and out. Heartbeat to heartbeat.

He held her gaze, direct and honest, as a sheen of sweat glistened on his skin.

A coil of tension began deep within her, wound around her uncertainty, and tightened against her conscience... faster but never hurried. Over and over and over, until she thought she would stop breathing completely and die from the sensation.

She cried out his name as she arched against him. He took her breast into his mouth and sucked. Every thought was cut off by his simplistic, most basic adoration, and he tensed in her arms before crushing her to the bed, depleted, satiated, and smiling.

She ran her fingers over his back until she succumbed to sleep, holding him and never wanting to let him go.

1

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Mid-January

Maria Rodriguez drove into Lynnbrook, a small, snow-covered village, and swallowed against the funny feeling in her gut. She’d eaten four hours ago, on the plane. It had been four hours too long ago. She put her hand over her empty belly.

...well, not so empty really.

But she couldn’t stop now. She was close. Closer than she had been in two and a half months. She’d kept this secret from her family, from all those she loved, because it only seemed right to tell him first.

Blinking away the sudden swell of hopelessness, she focused on the storefronts that lined the main street. Wreaths hung from the old-fashioned lamp posts and pretty light blue garland was strung along white picket fences.

I am definitely not in California anymore, she muttered.

The homes behind those picture-perfect fences were quaint—cottages, really. Any cars in view were high-end models...or older-than-dirt classics with just as much monetary value as their neighboring Lexus or BMW.

It shouldn’t be too hard to find one David March in a town as exclusive and small as this one. She remembered the man who’d driven through her hometown in his beat-up old truck, wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a flannel shirt. And how she’d found him smoking that first night outside the diner. Falling for the bad boy; how cliché.

Where he fit in a town like this, she had no idea.

She drove by an old stone-front building. Her mind barely registered the dark letters etched into the deep mahogany wood when her foot came down hard on the brake. Holy crap.

A horn blared behind her and she lifted her foot, slowly easing over the slushy blacktop to the curb. She pulled her scarf around her neck and tucked her hands into her new gloves and just sat and looked. Her eyes never left the sign.

Big. Fat. Letters.

The First March Bank.

David March. He must somehow be related to the family that owned the bank. Yes. That was it.

But foreboding twisted in her stomach.

She didn’t really know him. He’d come to California. He’d left.

No matter. She still had the address her reverse 411 had generated from his now disconnected cell number. She knew he was from the East Coast, from Vermont specifically. He’d often talked of his rural home and of practically growing up in the woods.

He was down-to-earth and had warmed to her family, fitting like a glove. She hadn’t expected that. Her family was large and intimidating. So when she’d found him chatting with Juan after her shift in the emergency room, she’d been pleased.

That had been before he disappeared.

She frowned, pushing aside the warning of those moments as November had ended. The elation of being in love, then the uncertainty of loss. Her first try at breaking free, scary as hell.

Maria put her rental car back into gear and continued north through town. North, where the houses were not quite so close together. Picket fences were replaced by stone and brick walls. Snow covered the pine trees and weighted-down the branches so they touched the ground. She’d never seen so much snow, not in Red Bluff.

She watched the odometer for the miles as she rolled down the road. His turn-off should be another mile up the road. Milton Trail, on the left. She turned. Point seven miles to the drive—according to Google, anyway. The fact that a residence had even popped up for the address had been a moment of victory in itself.

About fifty yards before the drive, the tree line broke. Whoa. She swallowed. Okay. No problem.

No problem! No problem!

The house was huge. Like an expensive, exclusive resort hotel, sitting on top of the snowy hill, like a castle from medieval times with stone walls and wrought iron over the smaller windows. It had a humungous picture window across the north face. The double doors just to the left had to be at least eight feet tall.

There was one of those wreaths she’d seen in town on the left door.

Holy... She pulled into the drive, and for a moment debated turning around. She could leave town. He’d be none the wiser. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. Shit. He probably owns the town.

And that one thought jarred the fright from her soul.

Anger balled within her gut. He’d lied.

The man who’d come to Red Bluff was about to learn the truth. He’d made no promises to her, but he’d loved her like no one else before. She couldn’t live with herself, keeping such a secret from him. It seemed unfair, cruel.

With one final nod, she pulled up the driveway.

It was now or never.

There was an eerie silence as she approached the front door. Maybe this was what it was like to be ultra-rich. Her family wasn’t poor, not by a long shot, but her home was always filled with noise. With so many siblings, it was no wonder.

She lifted the knocker and let go.

A tall woman in all black except for the white apron threw open the door. Black grandma shoes on her feet and black stockings. Her eyes flashed a warning that had Maria hesitating to speak.

There you are! My word, where are they sending temps from now? Concord? Didn’t Jerry tell you to use the back door? The woman frowned, grabbed Maria by the arm, and pulled her through the door.

Adrenaline rushed through Maria’s system, and she tugged her arm free. Hey. She stood back, putting distance between herself and the crazy lady.

You’ll need to move your car before Mr. March gets home. Maybe you should do that now. The woman worried her lip for a fraction of a second before making the decision. Yes, better do it now.

Uh, look. I’m sorry—

And you should be. The woman glanced at her watch. You’re two hours late! Monday is a big day around here. I asked for someone to come early. I have the entire main floor to clean and get ready for the New Year Library Tea. I can’t very well get someone to clean on Sunday. Unless you want to drive all the way up here tomorrow morning. Hmm? Her brow rose on the rhetorical question.

She thought Maria was a maid? I’m not—

Of course you’re not. None of you people ever are—

Temper blinded her for a mere moment. Now, look here, lady—

A door slammed open from down the long hall, cutting Maria off.

Ree? Shock rode that voice of seduction, and for an instant, a smile came to the familiar face, the one she’d ached to see again for months.

But then the smile disappeared, replaced by an unexpected look of...fear? Maria froze, taking everything in. The gray suit, tailored to perfection. His tie was the palest pink silk, so as not to even seem pink at all. Black shoes with wing tips and the finest leather.

She frowned. This couldn’t be David. This man had the same dark, thick hair and olive skin. His build was similar and he had eyes that narrowed on her, same as the day they’d met. Only then, there had been a look of interest.

You know this girl? The housekeeper spoke, but David ignored the woman.

What do you want? That instant of recognition was gone. Cold, pale green eyes looked on with calculated indifference.

Maria swallowed. Oh—

What’s going on, Dave? And the prettiest blonde woman Maria had ever seen came through the same door David had and laid a perfectly manicured hand on his arm, leaning in ever so slightly in ownership.

Oh, no. He’s married!

The woman wore an expensive turquoise, cashmere sweater. Her slim waist was circled with a glittery belt that topped sleek-looking black pants. And her boots were to die for—three-inch heels, black suede.

Can we help you?

Maria speculated on the reservation in the woman’s voice. It was kind, yet there was an edge. As if the answer would determine the judgment call.

Are you lost?

Maria shook her head. No, thank you. I— Gee whiz! What was she going to do?

She couldn’t just come in here and throw this news at his feet, in public!

I was hoping to speak with David. She cleared her throat. Alone.

The woman frowned but looked to David with a shrug.

"Are you saying you’re not from the cleaning company?" A pained expression covered the older woman’s face.

I’m not from the cleaning company. Maria shrugged at the poor housekeeper with a heartfelt grimace. Sorry.

Jiminy Cricket! The housekeeper pulled a cell from her apron pocket and stormed off, her muttering fading with each step down the long, hardwood hallway.

And Maria felt bad. Not necessarily because she wanted to clean. She didn’t! But the woman was obviously in a bind, and she understood that—completely.

I need to be leaving anyway. Blondie spoke, giving Maria her narrowed gaze once more, before she turned to David. Will I see you later?

David kissed her cheek and nodded. Sure. I’ll call. Okay?

Maria waited, watched as the woman disappeared through a doorway behind her then reappeared with a long, heavy coat over her shoulder. David came closer and took the collar, holding it for the woman.

Maria turned away as her stomach twisted in agony, and she closed her ears to the tender good-bye scene playing out in front of her. Who was she? What were they to each other? Had Maria suddenly become the other woman?

Her eyes wandered to the papered walls, the gilded frames, and the collection of clocks that covered the front hallway. Small ones, large ones, and a few that stood almost six feet tall.

Wood that could have been hundreds of years old, copper with aged patina, and gold faces with Roman numerals counting the hours and minutes. Now that her nerves had settled a little, the sound of passing time clung to her.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Her hand went to her stomach and she took a deep breath as the front door closed. Her reasoning was solid. It didn’t matter that David had turned out to be a lying, cheating, womanizing dirtbag.

They’d made love—with equal consent, no strings attached—several times.

"So, you showed up on my doorstep."

Maria turned, familiar with his dry sense of humor, and gave him a failing smile. She cleared her throat. So I did, she answered, mimicking his nonchalant tone.

David tilted his head, studying her. It’s...good to see you.

She laughed then, the sound coming out a bit hysterical. I’m sure. Just dandy, right? The fling of last year...still not over.

He frowned with pursed lips.

Look, I did a Google search on you, found a name, found an address. Dug a little deeper...I wasn’t about to travel all the way across the country without being sure. She tried to make it sound like there wasn’t a care, but her voice shook. The number you used in Red Bluff was disconnected. You left— and obliterated me. Clearing her throat for what seemed the gazillionth time, Maria continued, I needed to find you.

His face remained a stone fixture as he slid his hands into his slacks pockets. No warmth. Nothing. And?

Right. No beating around the bush. Maria thought back to their time in Red Bluff. He’d been direct then, too. Always an answer for everything. His mind worked quickly through problems to find resolutions.

She froze. Oh, my word. Is that why I’m here? Still looking for someone else to fix her problems? All her life. First her parents. Then her sister. An occasional teacher. Maybe this was a mistake, she thought out loud then bit her lip. No.

His blank expression turned into a frown. Maria, we spent a month together, and they were great times. I hadn’t even known I needed an escape, when I found one with you. So, please. If you need something or you’re in trouble, just spit it out. We’ll fix it.

He was reading her mind. But she heard the unspoken as well. So you can get on your way.

Maria stood straight, tested the muscles of her neck and shoulders, rolling them gently as if about to go into the ring, and blew out a breath.

David. I’m pregnant.

2

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Pregnant? For a split second, David saw Maria—over him, riding him, loving him, her soft skin the only thing worth touching. And it was followed by a staggering image of her—pregnant, laughing...his.

But he shoved aside those false visions. Impossible. He could never love that much. Love was the only thing in his life unstable enough to cause the most harm. No.

A knot of disappointment, and of complete and utter disbelief, tightened in his chest. The weight of his responsibilities, as heir to the March business, choked him.

She’d done her research and figured out what it would mean to tie him down.

Disappointment was quickly replaced with anger.

The woman he thought he knew hadn’t been devious. That’s not possible, Ree. We used protection every time.

Oh yeah, sure. We all know there’s never been a glitch in birth control since the beginning of time. I mean, we’re practically a medical miracle! We should call the Guinness Book of World Records. The New England Journal of Medicine. They’ll probably be very interested in hearing how we succeeded in making a baby while using a condom. Her blood was up, her face was a dangerous shade of red.

David rubbed a hand over his chest and turned away from the life that radiated from her. He’d loved that about her. Never afraid to say it like it was. You’re sure it’s mine?

Am I sure it’s—? Her laughter came out harshly, coated in resentment.

He winced. Okay, so it didn’t sound flattering. But, geez!

His life was planned, set before him, and he didn’t have a problem with it. As a matter of fact, he was happy. So what if he’d let loose a couple months ago and experienced something—he swallowed—unlike anything he’d experienced before.

He’d left Red Bluff for a reason.

Love wasn’t for the men of the March family. His grandmother had died. His mother had deserted them. He was not stepping in line for a lifetime of agony.

No. Way.

Yes. I’m sure. Maria cleared her throat. I haven’t been with anyone since you. But, thanks for thinking so highly of me. She shifted her purse onto her shoulder a little higher. I should go—

I didn’t mean it that way, David quickly asserted, reaching for her as she passed by on her way to the front door. She was fire in his hand, though, and he quickly let go of the temptation to take her in his arms and relive what he’d felt before, see if it had been real. It’s not—I didn’t mean—It’s just, this isn’t the same world our grandparents grew up in. I wouldn’t think less of you if you found someone else.

Right. Found someone to love and then came here to claim you as the daddy.

His heart stopped a little when she used that word, and he pushed aside all the unwanted feelings it instigated.

"I would think less of me. She banged a fist against her sternum. Dios mio. You are not who I fell in love with."

She backed up, found the door with fumbling hands, and ran out.

David froze. Fell in love?

He’d begun to think his memories a case of over-active imagination. She couldn’t have been as beautiful or strong as he remembered.

But he’d been wrong...Worse, he’d underestimated her power over him.

The minute he’d come out of the parlor and seen her in his foyer, he’d been thrown back to those carefree weeks of love-without-regret. Eyes that had captivated him from moment one and lips he had been on his knees to kiss. She’d made him weak.

And a March was never weak.

Or so he lied to himself each morning after dreaming of her...Maria. Maria Rodriguez. The compassionate nurse. The woman from a large family. The woman who had been brave enough to love a stranger and convince him to let down his guard. Something he rarely did.

But his guard was up again. And this wasn’t going to happen.

Looks like you’ve got a problem there, son.

His dad’s voice startled him back to the moment. He shook off the uncertainty and turned. How long have you been standing there?

Long enough.

David nodded as he worked the constricting tie loose from his neck. Don’t you have a meeting this morning?

The meeting was cancelled. His dad always said as little as possible. The intimidation tactic rarely worked on David, until today.

What if she was wrong? What if she was lying?

Well, I have stuff to do. David started for the stairs, not exactly sure where he planned to go, but his dad stopped him.

You’re a little old for this kind of trouble, aren’t you?

David shrugged, not admitting to anything—yet.

Men have needs, David.

David cringed. He didn’t want to hear about sex from his dad.

Even so, you should know better than to hook up with just anyone. Pretty as she is, she obviously had you pegged. You can’t let your dick do the thinking.

She’s not like that. It had never been like that...

She’s a gold-digging tramp, his father reiterated. And you better take care of it.

David tamped down a rebellious urge that flared to life. His dad meant well, and he was only trying to protect the family. They’d always gotten along, worked well together, and enjoyed some of the same hobbies—golf, fishing.

So the need to protect Maria came as unexpectedly as a thaw in February. I’ll take care of it, he answered without looking his dad in the eye.

***

By the time David reached one of the only two inns in town, he’d harnessed his emotions and was ready to speak practically with Maria about...the issue.

But his hands shook on the gear shift of his old Chevy as he pulled into the snow-covered parking lot and stopped near the dumpster at the back. There were two bags on the ground at the edge of the path, and he picked them up and tossed them into the large bin.

Nan Boehler might be a hardy old German lady, but if he was in town, he liked to help, insisted on it, really. Every once in a while, he’d catch her with a bag hoisted to her shoulders. And he’d scold her, knowing all the while, she’d do it again if he wasn’t quick enough coming around to help out. She’d give him a bit of her evil eye then invite him in for some pastry or another.

The back door was slightly ajar when he came up the path. He went through and closed it behind him. Hello?

David, you have been gone too long. She pulled him down to kiss his cheek and an embarrassed heat rose on his neck.

I was here on Monday.

Sit, sit. You must have some of the stew I am making. She puttered over to