Home to Harmony by Dawn Atkins Page B

want an explanation, to find reasons, to assign blame.” He blamed himself and always would.
    “You said she couldn’t stand the sight of Lady…did she feel the same about you? Is that what went wrong?”
    “It was a blow to our marriage, certainly, but the truth is I wasn’t the husband Elizabeth needed.”
    You’re never really here, Marcus, she’d said to him, her face ravaged by grief. You’re always in your head, obsessing about your research, your blessed work. Do you even know how to be with another person?
    “Simply put, she needed more than I had to give.”
    “So you were wrong for each other?” Christine frowned, intent on understanding, it seemed, making sense of the senseless.
    “I’m not sure I’d be right for anyone.” He gave a short laugh, surprised he’d confessed his deepest truth. “I’m not made for the kind of emotional engagement required by marriage.”
    He should never have taken the chance with Elizabeth, no matter how alike they’d seemed. It had been cruel to her and Nathan.
    Christine shook her head. “Oh, I don’t believe that, Marcus.” She sat up abruptly and leaned over to pat his arm. “The trauma you went through would mess up any marriage.”
    “That’s kind of you, but—”
    She laughed. “Who am I to talk? I’m no relationship expert.” She shook her head, her curls shivering across her shoulder, then threw herself back into the hammock, sending it flying. “My marriage to Skip was a disaster. I pick the wrong men and scare off the right ones.”
    “Frankly, I’m amazed any relationship survives. There are so many crossed wires, misunderstood impulses and bad judgment calls that an enduring bond seems like a miracle.”
    “Jesus, Dr. Optimist. You were smart not to go into marriage counseling.”
    He laughed, surprised at how good-naturedly Christine had reacted to truths that gnawed at his core.
    “So you’re skittish on marriage. How do you deal with sex? You don’t strike me as the booty-call type.” She stopped the hammock again and bore down on him. “I bet when you’re in, you’re all in. Am I right?”
    He smiled. “Let’s just say I’m better off out.”
    “Yeah, but everyone needs sex, Marcus.” She was teasing him, but his body was taking her very seriously.
    “Including you?” he teased back.
    She sighed, pushing off with that plump big toe of hers. “I work a lot. And there’s David.” She shrugged. “I’m all talk, no action.”
    “Is that so?” He watched her sway back and forth, lying there looking so available. He had the urge to prove her wrong, prove them both wrong, lift her out of that hammock into his arms, take her to his bed and—
    “Go for it,” she breathed.
    He jolted. Had she read his mind? “Excuse me?”
    “The hammock. Get in it. There’s room.” She patted the space beside her. “You look like you’re dying to try it. It feels good, like a great big body hug. You know you want to.” The words hit him low and she clearly knew it.
    He should decline, of course, but she would never let him hear the end of it, so he got out of the chair and lowered himself into the curve of the hammock. It creaked under his weight as he lifted his legs and shifted more fully in place.
    He wobbled, then rolled against Christine. “Sorry,” he said, attempting to retreat.
    She stopped him. “Don’t be. It’s nice like this.”
    It was. Dangerously so. The hammock held them together, swaying back and forth. Christine dipped her nose to his chest. “Mmm. You smell like lime and the woods and clean cotton.”
    “And that’s…good?” he asked.
    “Oh, yes….” She took an exaggerated sniff. “Very good.”
    “You, uh, smell good, too,” he ventured. “Like spring.”
    “I smell like spring? That’s a lovely thing to say.”
    “I noticed it the first day.” He felt like an idiot and a kid saying that.
    “You smelled me then?” She grinned. “That’s so sweet.”
    He settled against her softness,