Home Fires by Barbara Delinsky Page A

lovemaking couldn’t hide its sudden pallor. She stared at him fixedly, blinking only when he repeated his demand more urgently.
    â€œTell me, honey. What’s wrong?”
    It seemed forever before she was able to speak. Even her shock had not overcome that lingering breathlessness. “You know who I am,” she said faintly. He had called her by name.
    â€œOf course I know who you are.”
    â€œI didn’t … expect that.”
    â€œWhy not? You know who I am, don’t you?” he chided her softly.

    Deanna sank her teeth into her lower lip. Had she actually cried out his name too, without knowing it? She tried to think back to those last cataclysmic moments, but could hardly assimilate the overall magnificence of the fire that had consumed her so totally.
    Mark nodded silently in answer to her inner question. “You spoke my name as unconsciously as I just spoke yours.” He smiled. “It was very natural.” Bending his head, he kissed tiny beads of moisture from her nose, then carefully slid to her side. Deanna seized the opportunity to turn her back and try to rise, but Mark caught her. His arm curved around her waist and gently drew her back, flattening her on the bed beside him.
    â€œOh, no, you don’t! Now that I’ve found you, you can’t up and leave me just like that”
    Deanna avoided his gaze. “I’ve got to go.”
    â€œDo you?” he asked, arching a brow in doubt “Is there someone expecting you? Someone waiting for you at this hour?”
    Her eyes sent a message of mild rebuke as she looked toward him. “You should know the answer to that”
    Undaunted, he reached to smooth a lock of damp hair from her cheek. “I know that you’re Deanna Hunt”
    She eyed him fearfully. Would he destroy the entire fantasy? “What else do you know about me?”
    He grinned. “You live upstairs,” he offered. As his smile continued to toy with his lips, Deanna felt herself melting all over again. In self-defense she focused on his chest, only to find it as unnerving as his smile had been.
    His fingers fell from her cheek to curve lightly around her shoulder in a caress that was enough to remind Deanna of her nudity. Looking down, she groped for the sheet, but Mark caught her hand and stilled her. “Don’t …” he gasped quickly, without thinking, then forced himself to relax. “Wait … it’s all right”

    She was suddenly overwhelmed by where she was and what she’d done. “It’s not!” she cried. “This shouldn’t have happened. I’ve got to leave.”
    â€œWe’ve got to talk,” he contradicted her.
    â€œI can’t.” Pulling roughly away, she reached the far side of the bed, but a strange languor prevented her from standing up. As her confusion grew she wrapped her arms around her middle and swayed slightly back and forth. Before she could react to the dip of the mattress immediately behind her, a second pair of arms appeared to cover hers and she was drawn back into a virile cradle.
    â€œI won’t let you go until we’ve talked.” Deanna hung her head and slowly shook it in dismay. “Please talk to me,” he repeated, near pleading.
    But her thoughts remained her own. What had she done? How had she come to find herself here? How could she have allowed herself this lapse of judgment? After all, she was Mrs.—
    â€œThen you’ll listen to me.” Mark cut firmly into her self-reproach, holding her unyieldingly yet softly enough to give whatever comfort he could impart. “I know that you’re Deanna Hunt and that you live here at the hotel. My waiter was kind enough to tell me that. The rest I figured out for myself.”
    â€œThe rest?” she asked hesitantly.
    He sighed and tightened his arms a fraction. “You’re Lawrence Hunt’s widow.” She drew in her breath and tried to