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Book 7: Chapter 47 He had been gone too long and Marlena’s fear grew as various scenarios ran through her head. None of the outcomes she imagined were good and she bit her lip as she again debated going up to the study and dragging him away. The creak of wood sounded from the staircase and her head whipped around, her relief overwhelming her as she watched him come toward her. Lost in thought, John appeared oblivious to his surroundings. “I hope everything went all right?” Startled, he looked up, a wide grin curving his lips. Caught in the rays of the sun that poured through the wall of glass behind her, Marlena glowed like a beacon in the night. He’d sell his soul to buy one more moment at her side. Realizing that he hadn’t heard a word she had said, she chuckled and patted the cushion next to her. “Well? Come tell me what happened. I do believe the discussion involved me too.” Sinking down on the far end of the couch, almost afraid to get too close to her, he offered-up a shy smile. Trying to sound nonchalant, he shrugged. “Nothing to it. I told you we would work it out. Stefano won’t be a problem for us.” “Mm hm,” Marlena muttered, looking suspiciously over at him. “What did you have to do? Offer up our firstborn?” “Of course not! I only offered to name it after him.” As her eyes widened, he continued, his expression innocent. “In fact, I did promise I’d get right on the assignment. There are certain ‘technical details’ that need to be addressed before I can accomplish the mission.” As he watched the flush creep up her neck, he could barely suppress the laugh of sheer joy that bubbled within. It was not the time for doubts or worries for the future. They were free to be together and it would be enough for now. Her cheeks were pink, but her eyes flashed gold fire as she thought of the two of them discussing the name of a child yet to be. “You didn’t!” she exclaimed, sitting straighter. Suddenly worried he had angered her, he tried to cover. “I’m sorry. I mean we were just kidding. I know you’re too...”
It was her turn to suppress a laugh and she fought to keep her amusement from showing in her eyes. Almost leaping across the cushions separating him, she straddled his legs. Taking advantage of his shock at the sudden contact, she grabbed his wrists and trapped his hands against the back of the sofa. Bending over so that they were almost nose-to-nose, she said in a deceptively mild tone, “Too what, John? Too old to have more babies?”
Still holding his arms against the couch, she sat back and studied his face. Very slowly, she allowed her expression to soften, her head to bend down. Her lips drawing ever closer to his own, she whispered, “I almost believe you...”
He was mesmerized by her nearness and failed to note the warning glimmer in her eyes. Suddenly, her right hand snaked to his ribs. Burrowing under his sweater, she attacked him with her fingers, just below his rib cage, and yelled, “Almost, but not quite!”
“Oh God!” he yelled through tears of laughter, the giggles shaking the body she held wrapped around him only added to his torment. “I’m sorry! I swear, I’m sorry. We’ll have 10 more babies and name them all after you. Please, just stop. Have mercy!!” She was not about to let him off so easily, but at the sound of a door opening, she stopped to look up. Sami and Eric stood at the French doors, staring down at them with wide eyes. Sami flashed a broad grin. “Um, we heard shouting. Is everything okay in here?” Matching her daughter’s aplomb, Marlena gathered her feet under her and elegantly rose. Laying at her feet, John rolled to his side and gasped red-faced for air. “Everything is fine, Sami. Thank you for being concerned,” Marlena replied, a smile in her eyes. Reaching down, she gave John a friendly pat on his butt and chuckled. “Just giving your father a sorely needed lesson in etiquette.” Beneath his already pink face, she could see the blush that accompanied her touch, and thought to herself that it served him right.
Sami nodded in mock seriousness. “Yes, he never has been very strong in the manner’s department, has he? I think it’s a guy thing,” she said, poking her brother with her elbow.
Eric swallowed hard and looked down at John, who was wiping the last of the tears from his eyes. “Dad, they really scare me when they get like that.” Finally catching his breath, John flopped over to lay flat on his back. Catching Eric’s eye, he grinned. “They should scare you, son. They’re women.”
She leaned back in his arms, completely content. The day had passed in sheer unadulterated idleness, unmarred by a single sighting of Dimera. As the chill of the night deepened, she stretched her toes out to the remains of the bonfire and snuggled back into the warmth of John’s chest. “Are you cold? Do you want to go in?” he whispered into her ear. The feel of his breath sent a shiver down her spine. “Mm,” she groaned, arching her head back to rest in the crook of his neck. “I don’t want to move. Ever. I just want to sit here with you until the earth falls into the sea.” He bent his head and nuzzled her ear. “My butt’s going to get tired if we sit here that long,” he complained, eliciting a chuckle from her. “Okay, my gallant warrior. How about we stay here long enough for me to roast one perfect marshmallow?” Tilting her head, she gave him a kiss on the cheek and bent to retrieve her ‘roasting’ stick. Behind her, she distinctly heard him mutter, “Can we opt for that earth falling into the sea thing? It’ll be faster.”
Cocking an eyebrow, she turned to face him. “Surely you are not insulting my culinary skills?”
She stared at him in amazement. He really wasn’t the man she knew. He had actually managed to keep a straight face through the entire bald-faced lie. Narrowing her eyes, she decided to back him into a corner. Haughtily, she sniffed. “I will have you know, John, I am an excellent marshmallow cook. My abilities are legendary!” “Marlena! Every single marshmallow you roasted caught on fire!” “I like them that way.” “Doc, your hotdog caught on fire too!” he cried, unable to stifle the laughter that now rang out full force. “Pork should always be cooked well-done. It prevents bacteria,” she shot back, poking him with her stick to emphasize her point. He fell back against the cool grass, chuckling. Giving-up the battle, he managed to rasp out, “Okay. You win. You are a brilliant chef with a penchant for roasting marshmallows.” Seeing him stretched out before the fire, the flicker of the flames sending shadows dancing across his lean body, she lost all interest in the marshmallows.
Marlena shifted, resting her arm across his taut stomach. Propping her head in her hand, she looked down at him
“So much it hurts?” he replied, his voice the barest whisper. “Mm hm,” she said as she trailed her fingers down his jawline. “Then, yea. I do know.” His eyes cracked opened and he stared up at her. Blue fire seared her, his eyes reflecting the glow of the stars, the heat of the flames. She inched her way up his body, lacing her fingers through his thick hair, cradling his head in her hands. Chest to chest, she held herself above him on her elbows and allowed her lips to descend to catch his in a cool, dry kiss. His eyes closed and he melted into her. When she finally drew back, he had to force himself not to follow her. As the beat of his heart began to slow, he looked up and found her eyes fastened on his own. “I want you to promise that you will never leave me. I want you to swear it, on our love,” she said simply, once again allowing her fingers to skim the side of his face. A sly smile crossed his lips. “I do believe this is sexual blackmail, Dr. Evans.” Refusing to allow him to dodge the question, she brought her hands to the sides of his face. “Promise you will never leave. Promise me now.” He sighed and rolled over, taking her with him. Catching her in his arms, he sat-up and cradled her to his chest. “I promise I will never hurt you. I swear it on my life.” She shivered and wrapped her arms tightly around him. “That isn’t what I asked of you. It’s not the same thing.” His chuckle was grim as he locked his arms around her. “No, most likely it won’t be. But I can promise this. If I leave, I will always come back to you. I will come back, or I’ll die trying. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she whispered. This time, his short bark of laughter was genuine. “Doc, people have been wanting to kill me for years. I don’t die that easy. Really. It’s been tried.” She sighed raggedly and managing a grin of her own. “I’m not certain that makes me feel any better. Haven’t you ever consoled a woman before?” John rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Doc! You are the only woman I have ever cared about, so it’s not like I had a lot of practice. I mean, when we were together, I never did anything to upset you. It’s hard for me to learn a skill I never have to practice.” “Never upset me?” Marlena snorted, her eyes widening. “Never upset me! Do you remember the time you had me sign those damn check-in sheets at the hospital? Do you remember the time you stayed out all night for Bo’s bachelor party and called me at three in the morning to sing ‘Isn’t she Lovely’ with a barroom full of drunken cops? Or what about the time you were out all night on a bust, and then didn’t even call to tell me you had been shot in the face? Upset me! No one has ever been able to ‘upset’ me to the extent you do!” Resisting the urge to throttle him, she simply sat and glared. “Oh… Um, yea. I kind of forgot about that. And, hey! I did not get shot in the face. Those were just some wood splinters kicked up by the bullet,” he said defensively. Shifting slightly, he linked his hands together behind her and leaned back. “A bullet that hit an inch away from your face, John. Fortunately, they were aiming at your hard head, so there probably wouldn’t have been any damage anyway. But believe me- it still upset me plenty!” she said, involuntarily relaxing back into the warmth of the hands that gripped her hips. His hands crept down until they rested just below her belt and he quirked an eyebrow. “Okay, so maybe a couple of times you were mildly upset with me. I can’t quite remember what I did to console you,” he said innocently.
She simply looked at him. “Well, generally, we had sex,” she said in a conversational tone. “Wild, freaky, hanging from the chandelier monkey sex,” she continued slowly, the ghost of a smile showing in her eyes as she stared him down.
“Only if you do it right,” she replied, fighting back a smile. “Mm. Did we do it right?” he asked, pulling himself forward with his arms so that they were almost face-to-face. “Baby, did we ever,” she laughed, giving up the war. Seeing her smile at him beneath the star light, he felt as if his heart would burst. Impulsively, he bent down and captured her lips. Allowed himself to be consumed with her. By her. By her taste, her feel, her scent. The touch of her hand on his thigh startled him and he broke the contact, pulled himself back. Tilting his head to the heavens, he let loose a stifled moan. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” he growled as he swallowed great lung fulls of the cold air. “Oh yes. Really. You should have.” With a satisfied smile, she tried to still her own rapid breathing. Reaching to his upraised face, she brushed back the lock of hair that always seemed to find its way to his eyes. “John, let’s go upstairs.” A tremor run through his body and shook his head. Pulling himself back to the present, he looked down at her, eyes expressionless. “We should wait, Doc. Wait until this is all done, all over with.” She crossed her arms, looked at him in exasperation. He was acting like she was a sixteen-year-old virgin. “John, I want you to take me upstairs. Right now. And if I hear one more complaint about making love to me, you are going to see just how ‘upset’ I can get!”
Her voice carried the promise of a wrath of biblical proportions and he wasted no more time. Rising easily to his feet, her body still held in his arms, he managed a quick “Yes ma’am,” as he carried her through the patio doors.
She was jolted from her exploration when she felt his steps falter. It was only then that she recognized the roar of the TV and noticed the bright eyes of her children, staring up at her as they lay propped about the great room. “I thought you guys went to bed?” John growled in a husky voice. Marlena felt the sound echo in his chest and realized that she still had her hand buried in his shirt. Flushing, she pulled it out and clasped both hands loosely in her lap. Looking back at her children, she tried to appear innocent as she lay curled in John’s arms. “South Park’s on,” Carrie said from where she lay reclining across the arms of an overstuffed armchair. “We made popcorn,” Eric chimed in, motioning absently to a big bowl as he again turned his attention to the screen. Raising herself to a sitting position on the couch, Sami looked curiously over at them and smiled broadly. “So, Mom, did you hurt your ankle or something?” Marlena returned a self-satisfied smile and relaxed against John’s warm body, wondering how he would explain their current state. Instead, his gaze firmly fixed on the television screen, John asked, “Why is that guy farting on that other guy?”
“It’s Terrance and Phillip. It’s what they do,” Eric replied over his shoulder.
“Uh, she was cold,” John stammered, his face beginning to flush as he found himself the center of the kids’ attention. They simply continued to stare expectantly at him and he blundered on, feeling like a moron. “Oh, yea. She was sleepy, too. And, uh, I think she hurt her ankle...” He trailed off lamely, brought low by the blue-eyed gazes of his daughters. “Okay,” Sami muttered, more to herself than to them. With a roll of her eyes, she shrugged. “Well, we’ll be down here for a while, if you want to take Mom upstairs...” At her offer, John’s face went scarlet and Marlena realized that there was no way she was going to get him upstairs now. “Oh, no! Here will be just fine,” he said, bending as if to set her down. Marlena locked her arms behind his neck and gave him a look of warning. “Or, better yet, why don’t we take the couch, Sami?”
With a small smile at their silliness, Sami flopped down beside her brother on the hemp rug and refocused her attention on the show.
Listening to the beat of his heart, the sound of her children’s laughter, she allowed herself to drift away. As she carried him with her into her dreams, she vaguely heard the words that accompanied the movement of his chest. She let the words drift by, too ludicrous to process. “What’s that guy doing to that chicken?” ----- |