Chapter 11

Not for the first time, Miranda was dreaming, but oh it was such a dream!

She was dreaming of Marcus, he was with her in her bed; he was touching her flesh and kissing her skin.

She groaned huskily but refused to open her eyes – to wakeup fully, only to find that she was alone – again...

"Just a dream," she murmured again, and a tear of regret rolled down her cheek.

"Wake up Miranda..." his voice was so close, she could feel the warmth of his breath."

"Wake up!" he urged again as he leaned over her, and his lips found hers, to massage and manipulate, to encourage and seduce.

The pressure was butterfly light, and for a little while she resisted his persuasions.

But his hands began to stroke down her body, and cupped her breasts, and the bolt of sheer pleasure had her eyes wide open and her back arched, as she woke up fully and found that he did not disappear with the last waves of sleep.

She smiled up at him with pure delight, and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

"Oh Marcus ... I do love you so!"

He captured her lips and kissed her deeply, as he dismissed the feelings her declaration had provoked.

His lovemaking had a note of urgency to it, that Miranda met head on, and actively encouraged, as he thrust hard into her and pulled her closer, holding her tighter.

He rolled over suddenly taking her with him so the she was lying down the full length of him, and as her legs slipped down to rest alongside his, he again thrust up hard, cupping her bottom so that she had no choice but to meet his thrusts.

He was buried deep into her, so deep that she felt she would explode ... tear apart.

And in a way she did, when his climax came and he flooded into her, Miranda screamed out her own orgasm, feeling so whole ... so complete, she fell down on top of him to cry and sob all over him, she had thought that he no longer wanted her...

They were meant to be together, she knew it; and somewhere deep inside him – Marcus knew it too, he just hadn't realised it yet!

He made love to her twice more as the night gave way to morning, and each time it was with a need that had her heart swelling, and her hopes singing; and when he finally fell to sleep again, it was with Miranda wrapped tight in his arms, holding her as though he never wanted to let her go again.

She was busy making breakfast when he joined her in the kitchen the next morning, and as Miranda turned to smile at him, she saw the change.

He never quite met her eyes, and his smile never quite reached its summit.

His lips curved but they dropped again almost immediately, and the message was loud and clear.

Last night had been a mistake ... he regretted what had happened, even though he had repeated it – twice more!

She placed the food in front of him, and sat across from him with a bowl of cereal.

"Thank you," again, even though he looked at her – his eyes never quite met hers.

He ate down his breakfast as fast as he could – without showing ill manners. And the cup of tea washed it down nicely.

He glanced at his watch as he stood up.

"I should be going now," he murmured apologetically.

Miranda followed him to the front door.

"I hope that you find your father feeling better today ... Marcus."

He turned as she said his name. "Thank you ... and thank you again for all that you did ... and for last night."

His tone was husky and again there was that faint note of apology there.

"You're welcome Marcus ... anytime."

He pulled open the front door and stepped out onto the path.

"Goodbye Miranda – take care of yourself, and ask Peter to give me a call when he finds the time."

"Bye..."

He was already through the gate before she had her breath to utter that one feeble word.

She closed the door sadly knowing that she had said the wrong thing last night ... one little sentence, and now she just knew that Marcus now felt under pressure from her, awkward and maybe even obligated towards her.

"Oh why did I tell him that I love him ... now it's going to be impossible working with him, I'll need to find another job;" she murmured softly, "we both agreed that working together would be difficult if we developed a personal relationship..." She smiled to herself suddenly, as she stopped at the foot of the stairs. "Maybe that's the answer?"

She walked upstairs to take a shower and prepare herself for another trying day of fielding questions, without betraying Marcus's confidences.

It was still quite early in the morning and her shower was a leisurely one, where she gently ran her hands down her body, following the path of Marcus's kisses ... his hands, his tongue.

There were small marks here and there, around her nipples and at the top of her thigh, where his worshiping had become a little more – enthusiastic.

She smiled softly as she tenderly stroked over his 'love-bites'.

It was another difficult morning, and Miranda stayed at her desk through her dinner, having called down to the local cob shop, and asked if they could bring something up for her.

Peter came strolling in at just after two o'clock, and it was all she could do not to rush over to him, and fling her arms around his neck – and then sob all over him.

"You look tired," she observed sympathetically.

"It was a long flight, and it'll probably take me a couple of days to get back to normal again," he shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

He strolled over to Marcus's desk and sat in the chair tiredly. "I dropped Mrs Rogers off, on my way in ... I don't think you can expect her back until after the weekend though – she looked exhausted, poor thing."

He paused for a moment before looking directly at her. "Has there been any word on A ... Marcus's father?"

"The doctors think that he has a good chance, that with the right treatment he could make a very good recovery."

"That's something then ... and have you seen anything of Amanda?"

"A little," she admitted slowly, "she was with her mum and they were both trying to be strong, each for the other," she smiled a little smile, as she pictured the mother and daughter together ... so much alike, and yet so very different.

"Marcus asked if you could call him, when you got the chance," she said as she stood up.

Peter picked up the phone and began thumping in a number that he obviously knew very well.

"Hi Marcus, its Peter here ... yes I've just got into the office..."

"I'll go and make us a cup of tea," Miranda murmured as she picked up her mug and left the room.

The pressure came off Miranda – once word got around that Peter was back; but as the afternoon wore to an end she worried for him, he looked so very tired.

"I think that we should treat ourselves to a taxi tonight," she said as she slipped her jacket over her shoulders.

The week continued in the same vein, the staff at Phillip's Pharmaceuticals, knew that something had happened with Marcus – they just didn't know what, and so people were on edge and more than a little bit snappy.

Most of it went Peter's way and Miranda watched how he shrugged it off and dealt with the person sharply, making sure they knew their place and dealing with their problem competently – more than competently in fact.

As the weekend approached she noticed the change – once they knew that Peter was running things, and seemed to be more than capable – they started to relax again – figuring that they'd be told what they needed to know – when the needed to know it.

It was Friday afternoon when Marcus came strolling in, and about half an hour after Peter had nipped out for some lunch; and Miranda was typing up some documents.

"Good afternoon Marcus," she exclaimed in surprise, "How is your..." she trailed off as she didn't want to appear indiscrete in the work place – not after his specific request for her to keep his personal business – private.

"He's doing very well thank you Miranda – I'm sure that Peter has kept you informed of his progress?"

She nodded her head, a little and forced a smile that hid the hurt – that now she was forced to get any information, second hand and begrudging from Peter.

Peter had been in touch with Marcus on a day to day basis – keeping him updated of any problems and decisions, which he'd made or dealt with.

And Peter had also been disappearing for a couple of hours each evening, 'popping out for a bit, ' was how he put it, without any further explanation.

Miranda knew that he was out with Amanda, but figured it was none of her business – if he didn't wish to talk about it.

She also gathered that Amanda was talking to him about her father and her mother ... and Marcus; but as he didn't wish to talk about Amanda then she couldn't very well ask about the rest of her family.

Her information therefore was mostly coming from any discussion she happened to overhear between Peter and Marcus ... and any offhand comments, which Peter may have given.

"He's told me a little, but since he's not comfortable discussing you and your family..." she shrugged her shoulders.

"Well then ... my father is doing very well thank you Miranda – in fact the doctors are contemplating allowing him to come home, at some point next week," Marcus told her in a quiet, painfully polite voice – that just grated along her fragile nerve ends.

"Will you hire a nurse – do you think ... to help your mum..."

His eyes glinted with some emotion, and Miranda's voice trailed off.

"I never really thought ... yes ... yes that might well be the answer..." he murmured thoughtfully, he looked away for a moment before fixing her with his dark eyes again. "I came in to have a word with Peter, but since he's not here..."

"He's just popped out for some lunch," Miranda cut in. "He should be back any minute now ... I could make a coffee for you – if you can spare the time?"

Miranda blushed at how pathetically eager she was for his company – how pathetic she must sound to Marcus.

"Thank you Miranda," he laughed suddenly and it made her jump, it sounded so ... forced. "I keep saying this to you – but it is the simple truth, you are very kind."