More than the Game by Jenni Bara

13

@NYStarPost:Our new favorite couple Marabeth was spotted at Slush with tons of chocolate cake and PDA—check out the photos below

Beth tried on three different dresses before finally deciding on pants. She slid her feet into her highest heels before taking a last look in the mirror. The tight black pants, paired with the emerald green top, balanced the line of trendy and sexy while still appropriate and classy. At least she wouldn’t be on any worst-dressed list. That’s what she told herself while she continued to put too much effort into getting ready. It had nothing to do with Marc. Definitely not.

“Wow, Ms. Evans,” her babysitter said as she walked into the kitchen.

“I was going for casual-chic. What do you think?”

“It’s perfect. I’d never know you spent an hour getting ready.” The teenager smiled.

“An hour, huh?”

Beth winced as Marc’s voice called out from the playroom.

“Mr. Demoda got here about five minutes ago,” the sitter murmured. “He’s in there playing ponies with Mandy. It’s almost as funny as when Clayton does it.”

“I’m sure,” Beth said, heading for the playroom door.

Marc sat on the floor with about six My Little Ponies standing on his gray wool-clad legs while Mandy sat between them. Sitting in the middle of a rainbow of little girls’ toys should have made him look ridiculous, but it didn’t. His cologne lingered in the air, and the musk left her uneasy. Her eyes ran over his shoulders to his neck. His blue button-down was open, so the hint of a silver chain showed before it tucked into his shirt. She followed his arms down to his graceful hands and long fingers. He was the dictionary definition of handsome, and there was something very sexy about a man who was willing to play ponies.

“Having fun?” Beth asked, leaning her shoulder against the door frame.

Marc turned in her direction, and her skin prickled as his eyes ran over her body before slowly drifting back to her face. He cleared his throat.

“So you’re one of those women who spends hours getting ready, huh?” he asked indifferently before turning back to his pony.

Beth’s heart lodged in her throat, and it took a moment before she could swallow it down.

“Not normally, since I usually avoid the type of attention we’re trying to get tonight,” Beth said, blinking back the sting in her eyes. She didn’t care what he thought; she looked good.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Evans; I’d kill to look as good as you do right now,” the sitter assured her. The seventeen-year-old was smarter than the stupid man in the playroom.

“You look like you always do,” Marc pointed out as he came into the kitchen, followed by Mandy. Her eyes flitted shut. She took a breath and tried not to let herself get upset that he couldn’t even manage a compliment.

Beth kissed Steve’s head, hugged Mandy, then grabbed her black bag off the counter and followed Marc out the door.

As soon as they were in the car, Beth turned the music on. He’d hurt her feelings, but she wouldn’t let him realize it.

“Not an Eagles fan?” Marc asked as she flicked the station quickly.

“No.” She hated all classic rock. It made her think of limos and lectures. She wanted rap. She finally sat back and let “Get Buck in Here” fill the air. Marc reached over and snapped it off, then glared as she reached over and turned it back on.

“You can’t possibly like that crap.”

Beth smiled and turned the volume up. Marc watched her on and off as they drove to the city, but she simply played radio DJ, ignoring him completely. It turned out he didn’t like pop any better than rap.

Marc shut the music off as they pulled into a parking garage almost an hour later. Neither of them had said another word the entire car ride, and now the silence was awkward. He parked his car in a numbered space before turning to give Beth his full attention.

“I’m a jerk,” he said with an earnest look on his face.

“I won’t disagree on principle, but what in particular are we talking about this time?”

The corner of Marc’s mouth twitched as he tried not to smile. “You look gorgeous tonight, and I’m a jerk for not saying you completely took my breath away the second I saw you.”

Beth blinked. She realized her mouth was hanging open and she slammed it shut, but was still at a loss for words.

“I’m not sure how this whole ‘friend’ thing works. But as we were driving here, I realized that if Sid had been standing at the door looking like you do, I would have made some teasing comment about stealing her away from Austin. I know any of your brothers would have told you how good you looked, too. And the fact that you’re always gorgeous isn’t an excuse not to tell you. So I should have. You look beautiful; every one of those sixty minutes was worth it.” His eyes bore into hers. He meant every word he’d said.

Beth cleared the lump in her throat. “Thanks.” The flush of embarrassment heated her cheeks, and she fiddled with the ring on her thumb. His compliment held way too much weight in her mind. She didn’t want to care that he thought she looked good, but she did.

“And I promise that next time you take my breath away, I won’t make you wait to hear it,” Marc said. He climbed out, then reappeared at her window, opening the door. “Just for the record, you said you would tell me when I’m acting like a jerk, not turn on that robotic cold shoulder you have.”

“I don’t do a cold shoulder,” Beth said as he took her hand and helped her out of the car.

Marc laughed. “You’ve perfected politely robotic, and I hate it. I much prefer it when you yell at me.”

“Yeah, right.” Beth chuckled.

“I know you’ve spent a lifetime hearing people tell you to calm down, but I like to know where I stand, so if you’re pissed, tell me.”

“If you want me to,” Beth said.

Marc grabbed her wrist and spun her to face him. “Beth, I mean it. I like it when you’re you, not when you’re trying to be good. I want to know how you feel, whether we’re in front of ten cameras or alone in a room.”

“Okay.”

No one had ever told her that before. It was strange having someone say, “I want you to make a scene,” but it was freeing in some ways too.

“On that note, you ready to show the world how much we love each other?” Marc asked, smiling at the contradiction between reality and his words.

“As far as I’m concerned, for the rest of the night, the sun rises and sets in your eyes,” Beth said sarcastically, and Marc laughed as he steered her out of the parking garage.

The sidewalk was crammed with paparazzi who called out to both of them. “Marc! Over here!” “Elizabeth! This way!”

She steeled herself and plastered on a smile.

“Give them their picture,” Beth whispered, and Marc stopped walking. He placed his hand on her back, and the two of them smiled while Marc talked to a few of the photographers. She hated it, but she kept her smile on. It was only two months, she reminded herself, and then—hopefully—she could have normal back.

Fifteen minutes later, Beth sat in a half-circle booth beside Marc.

“I’ve never gone out with someone who gets stopped by more people than I do. How did you get on a first-name basis with the entire defensive line for the Giants?” Marc asked, resting his arm on the booth behind her.

“Helping Hands.” Beth cleared her throat and reached down to twirl her ring a few times. She didn’t want to lie to Marc. She’d talked to Bob about Helping Hands stuff, and sometimes even mentioned it to her brothers—but they understood how destructive gossip could be.

“Did you date one of them or something?” Marc asked, frowning as he looked over at the men. She chuckled, and his frown deepened.

“I told you, I don’t date people I can read about in magazines,” Beth said, rolling her eyes.

“Why are you acting coy?” Marc asked, looking back at the men and at her again. “Unless I read you wrong, you had no problem discussing everything that happened with the Evanses when I asked about it, and you were okay talking about your parents and Corey. Why the sudden shut-down?”

Beth sighed. “I don’t mind when you ask about me. But I helped one of them with—something, and ever since, the entire defensive line has been great.”

“Ah. It’s not your privacy you’re protecting,” Marc said, understanding.

“Exactly,” Beth confirmed, and Marc let it drop instantly.

Adoptions were private; she couldn’t break that confidentiality with someone who might repeat the information. But maybe Marc understood privacy. Again she had trouble relating this man to the one she’d read and heard about everywhere. His life was always out there for anyone to see.

Once the server had their orders dealt with and had brought them each a glass of wine, Marc jumped right back into the conversation.

“Can I delve more into your personal life?” Marc asked and scooted closer so that their legs brushed. His touch radiated through her entire body, as if he’d jump-started her nervous system.

Beth couldn’t think of anything she wasn’t willing to share with him. “What do you want to know?”

“I’m curious about what happened between when you moved in with the Evanses and now.” Marc paused and chuckled. “Which I know is a lot of ground to cover. It sounded like Bob was too busy to be there for his brothers, so I can’t imagine you two were on good terms. And yet, a year later, you got married.”

“Bob and I were always on good terms. He was around helping with the boys,” Beth corrected. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand and inadvertently shifting closer.

“So how did you end up together?” he asked.

Beth tensed. “When the world turns on you—even friends, teammates, and family—trust is hard.” She frowned, remembering her father telling her it was simpler if they let the story run its course and burn out instead of correcting it. Although he had never helped spread the lies, he’d never stopped them either. Stoically silent. “But my saving grace, through it all, was the Evans family. Yeah, the world was crucifying me, but their lives were falling apart, and they needed me.” She smiled, thinking about her late husband. “Bob became my best friend—my shoulder to lean on, someone I could trust without question. At a time when I couldn’t even trust my parents, getting that continuous unconditional love all his family gave me was heaven. The quiet life he offered was everything I needed to stay out of my father’s way. And that was really the thing that mattered most to me then.”

Marc sucked in a breath as he read between her words. It shocked her how easily the truth came out when she was with him.

She nodded slowly. “Yes; with the Evanses, I’ve always been out of the public eye. I knew Bob was interested in me. We were going to raise the boys together.”

The look on his face prompted her to continue.

“I loved him.” And she had. It was just a soft, undemanding, protective love. “It was a simple transition to go from co-parenting to becoming his wife.” She shrugged.

“But then he died?”

She swallowed before nodding. “Second-worst moment of my life.” Then she blinked. That was a truth she never shared. She always said it was the worst.

“What was the first?”

She looked at him.

“Corey,” he said flatly, and she nodded. Marc was quiet for a minute. “You were pregnant when Bob died?”

“Yip.” That was a weird question to follow with, she thought. “He died suddenly. The Evanses have a gallbladder deformity that runs in the family, and makes it prone to infection. Bob didn’t want to have his taken out unless it became a problem. He got an infection; when they did the surgery, the infection moved to his heart. He never woke up,” Beth said. Under the table Marc’s other hand came to rest on her thigh, turning them both to face each other.

“And you’ve dated no one with a media presence since,” Marc finished.

Beth looked up. “Until you and my front porch.”

His eyes heated immediately as they both remembered that kiss. Beth swallowed, and he leaned closer, his pupils dilated, those brown eyes clouded with desire.

But Beth was acutely aware of where they were and how many people were watching them. With Marc’s hand gently massaging her shoulder and his leg pressed against hers, the moment felt private, but she knew they were sitting in a fishbowl. She glanced around again, and her stomach felt sick. She could see the newspaper headlines tomorrow: ‘Elizabeth and Marc spotted making out in Slush,’ the quotes from the servers about not being able to keep their hands off each other. Her heart pounded in her ears; she couldn’t do this. She scooted back from him.

“Beth?” Marc asked, more surprised than irritated.

“Huh?” She took a sip of her wine to calm her nerves and somehow finished her glass.

“You look like you’re about to pass out.”

She swallowed. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. I thought we agreed that you were going to tell me what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours,” he said and scooted closer. Too close. She swallowed again. “Is this about Bob?”

“No. I need space,” Beth said, and gently set her hand on his leg, pushing him away.

“What?” She could hear the confusion in his voice.

“I’m not into public displays of affection, and there’s a roomful of people watching us,” Beth said.

“Sweetheart, you were fine at the hospital, and the other day in your backyard. And I was a lot closer then.”

“That was different.” She didn’t feel this gut-wrenching fear in those situations. Those were more of a job, like she was posing for an ad campaign; this felt intimate.

“Okay, scoot back over, so it doesn’t look like you’re afraid of me,” Marc whispered. Beth moved, but her hesitation was evident. “I’m going to put my arm around you, but I promise it won’t look like anything more than me wanting everyone in this restaurant to know you’re here with me, okay?”

Beth nodded, even though she wasn’t okay.

“Now, take a deep breath because I can see your pulse jumping out the side of your neck.”

“I’m sorry,” Beth mumbled. Oh man, did she have issues—and she was revealing more about them than she wanted to—but Marc said nothing more.

The server appeared with their food, and by the time they’d finished eating, Beth felt better. The conversation changed to lighter topics, mostly her dating history since Bob. The stories of her dates and her brothers amused Marc, but her brothers’ skill at chasing men away was why she had started using babysitters instead of having them watch the kids. With her second glass of wine finished, she relaxed again, and he made no move to overstep the boundaries she had set.

Marc ordered chocolate cake to share, and when it came, he took control of the fork, feeding her a bite.

“Mmm.” She shut her eyes in pure bliss. “I love chocolate cake.”

“I can tell.” He laughed. “The surprise is this orgasmic smile from someone who doesn’t keep even a cookie in her house.” He put another bite on the fork for her and held it out of her reach. She leaned toward it, and he pulled it back further. “Come get it.”

“You’re a tease.” She reached her hand out to grab his wrist, closing her mouth around the fork.

“It makes me wonder what else I can do to put that satisfied smile on your face,” Marc whispered, and she shivered as his breath danced against her neck. She swallowed before opening her eyes, looking straight into Marc’s chocolate-brown gaze.

“You’ve got a little cake on the corner of your mouth,” Marc said, leaning closer to her again.

“This side?” She tried to get it with her tongue.

His hand came up to rest on her cheek. “No, let me.” Marc leaned closer. His lips touched her mouth—not briefly, but he didn’t linger too long, either. “Got it.” The words brushed against her lips.

“Uh-huh,” Beth said breathlessly. She shook her head. “What did you do that for?”

“To see how firm your lines in the sand were,” Marc said, and smiled. “Want me to test you again?”

She wanted to tell him no… or maybe yes—but just then her phone started ringing in her purse. The haze she was in faded, along with the rest of her plans for the evening, when she looked at the caller ID.