Undertaking Love

Chapter Nineteen




‘Happy Independence Day, gorgeous.’

Marla clinked her glass against Rupert’s outstretched one with a smile. She was all warm inside and out from two glasses of champagne and the last rays of the evening sunshine.

‘I think it’s dark enough now,’ she declared as she fished around in the box for the lighting rod. As a child back home in the States they’d have rowed out on the lake near her mother’s Florida holiday house to watch the July Fourth fireworks with blankets around their shoulders, but in its own unexpected way, this was just as exciting.

She banged the stake into the lawn and nodded towards the box.

‘Choose one.’

Rupert studied the contents and picked out a small fountain.

‘A reserved choice, sir.’ Marla laughed as the swish of flame shot along the fuse, sending a spray of gold shimmers up into the dwindling light.

‘What shall we have next?’

She rummaged in the box like a kid in a sweetshop and came out with a huge rocket in her outstretched hands.

Rupert took it from her with a look of barely disguised alarm on his face and pranced around with stiff arms as if she’d given him a live grenade with the pin pulled out.

‘It’s not even lit yet, idiot!’ Marla giggled.

He somehow managed to get it onto the spike, still as skittish as a pony as he flicked the lighter ineffectively towards it.

‘Move over, Guy Fawkes. Let me.’

Marla took the lighter, igniting the fuse like a pro, and they stepped back hand in hand to watch the rocket fizz into life. It hissed and sizzled for an uncertain second, before whooshing up into the darkening sky in a glittering cascade of scarlet stars.

Marla clapped with delight and set up the next one straight afterwards, this time a spangle of blue stars. A ball of homesickness lodged in her throat as she imagined the beautiful rainbow skies over America tonight. In that moment she forgave Rupert for his reticence to light the fireworks. He’d given her this wonderful surprise; she should cherish his kindness far more than she did.

She wrapped her arms around him and tilted her chin up with a smile.

‘Rupert, thank you. I love you for this.’

‘I love you too, Marla.’

His arms felt a lot like those warm July Fourth blankets from her childhood.

She let herself melt against him as he kissed her long and slow, and for the first time in a while, he was the only man on her mind.



Gabe heard the bang in the sky as he searched for the key to the front door of the funeral parlour in his pockets. Being the boss meant that he was never off duty, even on days like today when he’d already put in fifteen hours at the convention. He’d just called by to make sure all was well, and that Melanie had remembered to deliver the parcel to Marla. Not that he really needed to go inside for confirmation, given the blaze of tiny blue stars in the sky. He grinned, glad that she’d obviously accepted the fireworks in the spirit they were given.

The sound of her laughter drifted across to him from the back garden of the chapel. Was she having a party? Her laughter pulled him across the space between their properties like a shard of metal to the Hadron Collider. He was powerless to resist. He didn’t actually try all that hard, to be honest. He hoped he would be a welcome visitor at her door tonight.

He pushed the side gate open a little and stopped short. If it was a party, it was an exclusive one. Just Marla and Rupert, wrapped in each other’s arms, the glow of a couple of candles on the table casting a gold gleam over Marla’s hair.

She looked more relaxed than he could ever remember seeing her as she smiled and thanked Rupert for bringing her fireworks.

Rupert?

Then she kissed him. How the hell had that sly gobshite managed to pass off Gabe’s gift as his own? But much as he wanted to steam in there and show Rupert up for the liar he was, he couldn’t bring himself to smash up her fragile happiness for his own gratification. He backed out of the gate, his ears ringing with the words of love he’d overheard.



Rupert caught sight of Gabe’s receding back over Marla’s shoulder. He wanted to laugh out loud with triumph and punch the air. Marla had said she loved him, and all in clear earshot of Ryan. He couldn’t have planned it better if he’d tried. Jesus. Marla was setting up yet another bloody rocket. Would she never get bored? He hated fireworks and was dangerously close to his limit of fake oohs and aaahs. This called for something stronger than champagne. He let himself into the side door of the chapel in search of Dora’s whisky.

After that moment, things seemed to happen in slow motion, and yet at breakneck speed too. Marla’s earlier instruction not to open the kitchen door because of Bluey had gone in one ear and out the other. As he opened the door the loud crack of the rocket rendered through the quiet night like a gunshot and startled the slumbering dog into a panic.

The big hound bolted straight past him across the lawn, not even registering his mistress as she lunged for his collar and ended up holding instead the ridiculous fluffy headphones she’d slid over his ears as he slept. He cleared the side fence in one easy leap, out onto the high street beyond. The squeal of tyres and the sickening thud of metal preceded Marla’s scream by mere seconds.



About to call it a night, Gabe sat astride his bike and saw it all happen, so fast that there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it.

The racing green Mini hurtled down the road at some pace; Marla’s big furry guy hadn’t really stood a chance. Not that the driver could have expected a Great Dane to come hurtling into its path, but all the same Gabe was pretty sure that they had been a considerable way over the speed limit.

He was off his bike and running as Marla came flying out into the street, her red hair streaming behind her like a danger flag, tears coursing down her cheeks as she fell to her knees in the pool of blood at the dog’s side. She cradled his big, still head in her lap, unable to look at the mangled mess the car had made of his side.



Marla didn’t register Rupert’s arrival at her side, nor the driver’s door on the green Mini as it creaked open. All she could see was her big beautiful boy. She knew he’d gone. The light had left his gentle eyes.

Gabe looked over in confusion as Melanie staggered from the Mini.

‘Melanie … what were you doing here at this time of night?’

His dazed receptionist was shaking from head to toe. He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder.

‘Are you hurt?’

‘I don’t think so.’ Her lip wobbled. ‘I didn’t see him, Gabe, I swear, I didn’t. He came out of nowhere. One minute the road was empty and the next …’ She waved an arm towards Bluey and tears spilled down her cheeks. Gabe guided her down onto the pavement and grabbed a blanket from the back seat of the Mini to wrap around her shoulders.

‘Sit there for a few minutes and get your breath. I’ll be back soon, okay?’

He rubbed her back for a second to comfort her, then headed back to where Marla still knelt beside Bluey.



Marla ran a hand over Bluey’s matted coat. She felt Rupert pat her shoulder, and accepted the pristine hankie he shoved into her hands.

‘Come on Marla, get up.’

His fingers were firm on her shoulder but she didn’t budge.

‘Sweetheart, please.’ He reached down and attempted to manhandle her onto her feet.

‘Leave her be.’ Gabe’s voice cut through the fog around her as Rupert tried again to haul her up, and once again she resisted his hands.

‘On your feet, Marla, come on. I’m going to call the vet to come and fetch the dog.’

What had started out as a genuine gesture turned into an awkward tussle as Rupert jockeyed for control of her, of the situation.

Gabe stepped forward and placed a hand on Rupert’s arm. ‘I said leave her be.’

‘F*ck off, Ryan.’

‘Have some decency, man. She needs a few minutes.’

A sneer twisted Rupert’s mouth. ‘You think you know everything, don’t you, Ryan?’

Gabe stared at him, disgusted that he’d rather argue over the top of Marla’s head than hold his silence for her sake.

Rupert mistook his silence for acquiesce, and looked back at Marla.

‘Come on now, darling. Stand up. It was only a dog.’

His words had a gunshot effect. Everyone’s head snapped towards him in shock. Even Melanie’s.

Marla hauled herself onto her feet. ‘Go home, Rupert.’

Rupert flinched under her hostile gaze. ‘I’ll go and call a vet for you.’

‘You’ll do no such thing. Just go. And take her with you.’

She jerked her head towards Melanie. It was the first time that she’d even acknowledged the girl was there at all.

‘But …’

‘Rupert, please. If you truly want to help, then just get her out of my sight.’ Marla laid a hand on his chest. She knew him well enough to know that he’d die rather than lose face in front of Gabe, and that alone was her guarantee that he wouldn’t make a scene. She allowed him to pull her into his arms for a second, but his lips landed on her cold cheek as she turned away from his kiss.

‘I’ll call you in the morning,’ he muttered, and with that he swept Melanie into his sports car and away into the night.



An eerie silence settled over the street as the sound of Rupert’s engine faded into the darkness.

‘I’m so sorry about Bluey, Marla. He was a gorgeous guy.’

Her face crumpled with pain, and Gabe did what he knew she needed most at that moment. He held her in his arms and let her cry. Great big sobs that wracked through her frame. He absorbed them all, wishing her pain away. He shrugged out of his jacket, wrapped it around her cold shoulders, and stroked her hair like a child until the tears subsided.

‘What do I have to do about him now, Gabe?’ Her voice was small and broken, so unlike the strong vibrant woman she was. He was glad that this was something that he could take care of for her.

‘What would you like to happen?’

Marla sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. ‘I’d wind the clock back and save him.’

Her voice cracked with raw emotion, and he squeezed her gently and rested his chin on the top of her head. He’d heard similar responses many times over the years from grieving relatives and it never failed to make his throat tighten.

‘I could see how much you loved him.’

‘It was my fault. I should have taken him home, but he cries if I leave him. He was always with me. Always.’

Gabe stroked the red waves beneath his fingers.

‘Let me bring him inside for tonight. I can talk you through things in the morning.’ Experience had taught him that people appreciated solid guidance at times like these. It was hard to think straight when your world was skewed. He felt the tension slump from her shoulders; saw the relief in her eyes when she looked up.

‘Thank you. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been here tonight.’

She was so close he could see the tears that still clung to her lashes. Grief had rendered her soft and vulnerable, and it would be the easiest thing in the world to lean down and kiss her. His gaze dropped to her swollen mouth. F*ck. He tipped his face up and stared at the stars for a couple of silent moments, pulled himself back from the feelings she stirred in him. He swallowed hard. This wasn’t the time.

‘You’re welcome, Marla. You’re welcome.’

He stepped away from her and held out his hand. ‘Come and sit inside. It’s cold out here.’ He settled her at the reception desk and produced a crystal tumbler and a bottle of brandy. ‘Drink some of this. I’ll be back soon.’

The brandy seared the back of her throat, but it had the desired effect. Her fingers stopped shaking, and warmth chased the shivers from her body. She could see Gabe outside steering Melanie’s Mini towards the kerb, and then moments later crouching down next to Bluey’s body.

She looked down, unable to watch, and noticed the small white envelope that had stuck itself to the base of the bottle. Peeling it off, she tipped her head to one side and read the name written across the front of it in confusion. Marla. Her own name. It was unusual enough to safely assume the note was intended for her, but she was certain that Gabe hadn’t put it there just now.

She glanced out at the street again, where Gabe had rolled Bluey onto a gurney and covered his still form with a blanket.

‘Sleep well, my fur boy,’ she whispered into the silence as Gabe wheeled him past the window to the back gates.

She looked at the little envelope again. Turned it over. Sealed. Bugger. Should she open it? Was it technically hers because it bore her name? Or was it still Gabe’s until such a time as he chose to give it to her? She was too exhausted to compute it, and noises behind her told her that Gabe was in the mortuary with Bluey. She placed the envelope back on the desk and pushed it away. But then, after a heartbeat, she grabbed it again and shoved it into her pocket to think about later.



Gabe had done as much as he could for Bluey tonight, so he headed back to reception where he found Marla sitting stiff-backed, his jacket still wrapped around her. She swiveled to face him as he laid a light hand on her shoulder.

‘Okay?’

‘Not really. You know.’ She shrugged.

‘Yeah, I guess I do.’

Marla glanced up, struck by the melancholy note in Gabe’s voice, and she glimpsed the pain in his gaze before it slid from hers.

‘Need a ride home?

She nodded, grateful not to have to face the walk home without Bluey.

‘If you’re sure it’s not out of your way?’

She realised as she said it that she had no clue where Gabe lived.

He dismissed her comment with a shake of his head, zipped back through to the kitchen and returned a moment later with a spare motorcycle helmet and his keys.

‘Come on. Let’s go.’

Marla made to slip out of his jacket as she stood up.

‘Keep it on.’

‘But …’

‘No buts. Keep it on.’ His tone brokered no argument, and she didn’t feel much urge to fight. The jacket was bringing her more than warmth. It smelled of leather, and spice, and lemons, and Gabe. It was a comfort, and a shield.

Outside, he tucked her hair behind her ears like a child and slid the helmet down over her face.

‘Have you been on a bike before?’ He lifted her visor as he spoke.

She shook her head.

‘Okay. Just hold on and trust me. I’ll keep you safe.’

In that precise moment, Marla had absolutely no doubt that he would.

She did exactly as she was told and wrapped her arms around Gabe as he gunned the engine into life. He glanced over his shoulder and closed her visor before giving her the thumbs up. She nodded, and they were off.

On another evening the adrenalin of the ride would probably have thrilled her inner speed demon, but tonight she was more moved by the comfort of Gabe’s warm body against her own. Arms wrapped around his waist, the intimacy of him nestled between her spread thighs as the bike throbbed beneath them sent her senses reeling. It knocked her sideways how very turned on she was. Disloyalty clashed against desire. Grief battled with visceral need. She was powerless to do anything more than let the sensations wash over her like a tidal wave and hope to still be breathing at the end of it.

She was just about the most mixed up she’d ever been in her entire life. Her canine best friend had just died, her boyfriend had gone from hero to zero in a crisis, and the man between her thighs was fast becoming the most enigmatic, frustrating person she’d ever known. He was turning her into a veritable Jekyll and Hyde. One day she wanted to kill him and tonight, right now, she wanted to take him to bed.



Gabe pulled into the country lane and eased the bike to a stop outside Marla’s cottage, but she made no move to let go of him. Her arms still gripped tight around his middle, her fingers were still searing his skin through the cotton of his T-shirt. He hadn’t ridden a bike without leathers for years, not since way back when he’d been a teenager taking Cheryl Brady home from their first, and last, date to the cinema. One look at the wild-haired boy on the motorbike was enough for her mum to ban him from ever setting foot near Cheryl again.

He touched Marla’s hand, a gentle nudge to remind her that she needed to dismount before he could, and he felt colder the instant she peeled her body away from his. He climbed off after her, helped her off with her helmet and laid it down next to his on the bike.

‘You okay?’

As she stood there and shook out her hair by the front door, she reminded him all over again of long gone teenage dates. This would have been about the time when he’d have been trying to work up the guts to kiss the girl in question goodnight, and now he found himself with the opposite problem. It was all kinds of inappropriate, but right at that moment he wanted to kiss Marla so badly that it physically hurt.

Frankly, Marla wasn’t helping the situation, either. Was it his imagination, or had she stepped closer? One second there was space between them, the next she’d dragged him against her. The world shrank to the size of Marla’s doorstep as she tipped her head up and found his mouth with her own. Her kiss stripped away his good intentions in a heartbeat as lust roared through his veins, a lit match dropped on tinder-dry brush land. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he knew he should stop her, but Jesus, she was all over him. Her tongue insistent in his mouth. Her magic fingers already learning his skin beneath his shirt. His hands wound their own way into the gilt waves of her hair as he surrendered himself to her siren call. When he moved them lower, her bottom moulded itself perfectly into his palms, and that appreciative little moan she made when he bit down on her lip made him burn to know how she’d sound when he thrust himself inside her. Her heart banged against his. Jesus, if she didn’t stop grinding against him like that he was going to screw her right here against her own front door.

‘Come inside,’ she gasped, and slid one hand down between them towards his crotch as she fumbled behind her with the other to put the key in the latch.

It would have been the easiest thing in the world to just go inside, and it was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do to put the brakes on.

‘Marla, stop. We can’t.’ He pulled his head up and grasped her gently by the shoulders. Her eyes dragged open.

‘You don’t mean that,’ she whispered, even as he reached down and stilled her fingers against the strained buttons of his jeans.

‘Yes, I do. You don’t want this. Not really.’

The desire in her eyes spluttered to a halt and died, replaced by despair and the glitter of unshed tears.

‘God, I’m so sorry, Gabe. What the hell am I doing?’ He hauled her back into his arms as the tears spilled down her cheeks.

‘Shhhhh, shhhh, it’s okay. It’s the shock, Marla. It does strange things.’

He counted to ten, trying to force his mind away from how good she felt as she buried her face in his neck.

‘It’s a natural reaction. Kind of life-affirming, if you like. Sometimes, when we stare death in the eye it can tap into our basic survival instinct and makes us... well, horny. It’s procreation. All that circle of life stuff.’

He knew his words sounded dry and textbook, but that’s exactly what they were. It was part of the funeral directors’ unwritten handbook to be prepared for relatives who could mistake their heightened emotions of grief for sexual attraction, but up until now he’d never actually experienced it firsthand. He wanted Marla to feel those emotions for him more than anything else in the world, but not like this.

‘But you stare death in the eye all the time,’ she mumbled with a shaky laugh, her breath warm against his skin. ‘So what does that make you?’

He laughed softly.

‘Frustrated, in your case. Go inside Marla. You need some sleep.’