Harlequin Desire June 2020 - Box Set 2 of 2

by Karen Booth

  Farrell’s grin warmed her cold toes. She had forgotten her slippers.

  He crooked a finger. “Come by the fire, Ivy. Do you want a drink?”

  “No, thanks.” Alcohol at this hour would make her woozy. She didn’t want to miss the good parts of what came next.

  It struck her suddenly with a sharp stab of grief that she had been dead wrong. She’d told herself that spending time with Farrell was something she wanted, something she deserved. That when the clock ran out and she and Dolly moved on, Ivy would be able to look back on this interlude and be glad she had known and loved Farrell Stone even for a little while.

  The truth ate at her now, destroying her illusions. In an instant, she realized that leaving this place—walking away from this complicated, kind, generous, amazing man—was going to destroy her.

  Farrell must have seen something on her face. His smile faded. “What’s wrong, Ivy?”

  She swallowed hard. “Nothing. I’m just nervous.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. Her heart was beating like a jackhammer, and her teeth were in danger of chattering. Even her breathing was shaky.

  Farrell didn’t wait. He came to her. “Relax, Ivy. This night is for us. No pressure. Just pleasure.” He slid his arms around her from behind and rested his chin on top of her head. “Earlier tonight you looked amazing in that red dress. But now, even better. Like a package I want to unwrap.” His nimble fingers unknotted the tie at her waist.

  She slipped out of her robe and tossed it on a chair, shored up by his strength and caring. “I want that, too.”

  “So glad we’re on the same page.” He chuckled hoarsely.

  There wasn’t much talking after that. Both of them had done a lot of “adulting” this weekend. Playing host. Working hard to make sure the event went smoothly.

  It was time for self-indulgence.

  Farrell picked her up and carried her to the bed. His hair was overdue for a cut, but the slightly shaggy look suited him. He was his own man, not bound by all of society’s strictures. Though he was stunning in dress clothes, Ivy preferred this less-civilized version.

  She wanted to tell him she loved him. Would it matter? Would it make a difference?

  Maybe he wouldn’t believe her. Maybe he’d say it was too soon after her marriage…that a rebound relationship wasn’t the answer.

  And maybe he would be forced to let her down gently, to remind her that Sasha had claimed his heart and still held it, even now.

  Because Ivy didn’t know the answers to those hypothetical scenarios, she kept quiet. Better to juggle uncertainty than to face the humiliation of an outright rejection, no matter how kind.

  Farrell was impatient. She liked that. His urgency made her feel special. Desired. Desirable.

  Though he had expressed appreciation for her new nightwear, he wasted no time in removing the gown. His knit pants joined the discarded lingerie. When they were both naked in the center of the mattress, he pulled the covers over them and dragged her against his warm body. His very warm body. The way his strong arms held her was delightful.

  She ran her hands over his back, feeling the muscles, the taut flesh. “I was jealous of the Italian girl in your kayak,” she admitted, her nose buried in his shoulder.

  His chest rumbled with laughter. “Then we’re even. Because I wanted to punch my brother for offering you lessons.”

  * * *

  Farrell regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. That admission made him sound more emotionally invested in this thing with Ivy than he wanted to admit.

  She pulled back to stare at him. The only light in the room was a muted glow from the fireplace. “Are you serious?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah. I thought we were all supposed to be taking one of the guests on board to show them the ropes. But then some of them wanted to go with their spouses, and suddenly Zachary ended up with you.”

  “Zachary is a wonderful man, but he’s not Farrell Stone.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “He’s gorgeous and fun, but you’re more like me, Farrell. You don’t need a lot to be happy. Or that’s how it seems to me. Am I wrong?”

  Her assessment was startling. As if she really understood who he was. “He’s always popular with women.”

  “You would be, too, if you didn’t have this kind of grumpy, standoffish thing going on.” She paused, her smile impish. “But I like you anyway, because you have other qualities I find interesting.”

  When her hand closed around his erection, stroking once…then twice, he inhaled sharply. “I see.”

  She handled him firmly, keeping him on the edge of madness. “You’re hardworking even though you have a ridiculous amount of money. You’re kind, though I suspect you’d rather not be described that way. And you’ve given me a chance to get my life back with this job.”

  “I don’t want your gratitude,” he snapped. He heard the bite in his own voice, but he couldn’t help it. “What we are…here…in this bed…doesn’t have a damn thing to do with kindness or gratitude or anything else. I want you, Ivy. I need you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “I do.”

  He reached for protection, took care of business and lifted her astride him. “I’m yours, Ivy. Show me what you want.”

  Though shadows draped the bed in intimacy, he was well able to see his lover’s face. Her cute hair was mussed, her cheeks stained pink with heightened color. His Ivy was learning to be bold, to take and not simply give, but her innate shyness lingered. When she rose up on one knee and aligned their bodies, he literally couldn’t breathe. Everything in his chest froze, waiting for the moment of joining. Waiting. Waiting.

  Her body accepted his easily, though he was as hard as he had ever been. His fingers gripped her hips, held her still, while he entered her. Holy God. His eyes stung with moisture. It was good. So good.

  He’d never thought to find such closeness with a woman again.

  And it terrified him. Clear down to the marrow of his bones. He felt stripped raw. Vulnerable.

  Ivy’s small, capable hands rested, palms flat, on his collarbone. She bent to kiss him. The change in position made them both gasp. “I want you,” she whispered, her lips feathering over his with tiny angel-wing kisses. “For as long as we have. And I won’t ask for more. So make love to me again and again, Farrell. Hard. Fast. Everything in between. I’ve got a lot of empty years to make up for. I need you, too.”

  He lost control then. Rolled her beneath him. Pounded his way to release. Gasped for air in the aftermath.

  His bedroom was silent.

  Ivy’s heartbeat was loud. So was his.

  The moment seemed right for some kind of confession on his part. Surely she realized that his self-imposed ban on caring was flimsy at best. But fear kept him silent.

  After yawning twice, he kissed her shoulder. “Are you sleepy, Ivy? It’s been a heck of a day.”

  She nodded, echoing his yawn with one of her own. “Yes. I’m going back upstairs now.”

  He scowled. “Why would you do that? It’s two in the morning. Stay, Ivy. Stay here.”

  She patted his cheek like he was a fractious toddler demanding a treat. “I’ve decided I’d rather not take any chances with our guests. I’ll be more comfortable in my own room.”

  When she rolled out of bed and bent to pick up her things, he was treated to a great view of her ass and her… He gave himself a metaphorical smack. “I could make you comfortable,” he said, giving her a look that hopefully communicated his displeasure with this new plan.

  Ivy donned the gown and robe and tied the sash. Her smile was weary and sweet. “I’ll see you in the morning, Farrell. Get some sleep.”

  * * *

  Ivy slept like the dead and awoke refreshed, even though she’d barely managed five hours. Last night had given her hope. Though perhaps it
shouldn’t have. Farrell had been so tender, so everything. Surely a man couldn’t have sex like that without feeling something. Could he?

  The morning passed quickly. After breakfast, guests returned upstairs to pack. The three Farrell men took turns transporting luggage to the front foyer. The limos were slated to arrive at two o’clock sharp to ferry everyone back to Portland. Zachary, Quin, Katie and Delanna would be heading that way, as well.

  Soon, it would only be Farrell, Dolly and Ivy once again.

  Ivy had missed her daughter, though Dolly had been having the time of her life with Delanna, who doted on her every move. Even though Ivy had been at the cabin for the baby’s bedtime both nights, Dolly had clearly bonded with her weekend sitter.

  While the Stone brothers and their guests were involved in one last short planning session after lunch, Katie and Ivy helped the caterer pack up her supplies. The woman had driven back and forth from Bar Harbor morning and night. Ivy hoped she was being paid well.

  When the kitchen was spotless, Katie joined the meeting. Ivy ran upstairs to pack her own things. When she was done, she put the bag in the mudroom at the back of the house. Tonight she would return to her bed at the cabin. Farrell’s plans were a mystery.

  Not long afterward, everyone gathered on the porch for goodbyes. The group had bonded. Ivy liked them all. Delanna was there, too, carrying Dolly and getting in a few last snuggles.

  Luca shocked Ivy by grabbing her up and giving her a more-than-friendly smack on the lips. His grin, when he released her, was unrepentant. “When you come to Switzerland, mademoiselle, you must find me and I will take you to dinner at the best restaurant in the world.”

  Ivy returned the smile, flattered in spite of the outrageous display. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Quin and Katie joined her, laughing. “I think you made a new friend,” Quin said, clearly joking.

  Katie shushed him. “Don’t tease.” She squeezed Ivy’s arm. “I know you wanted to save up money for a car, but Quin and I realized that my old sedan was sitting in the garage up here at his house gathering dust. Well, our house,” she said, correcting herself. “You’re welcome to it, if you like the way it drives. I put a lot of miles on it, but she’s a good car.”

  Ivy stared at them. “You can’t give me a car. I’ll pay you.”

  Quin shook his head. “Your money is no good in Maine. I have more vehicles than I need, and I bought Katie a new Land Rover last month. You’d be doing us a favor by taking her old car off our hands.” He reached in his pocket and handed Ivy a set of keys. “She’s all yours. I’m sure Farrell can help you line up the title and tag transfer.”

  Farrell joined them, overhearing Quin’s final words. He frowned. “Why does Ivy need a car?”

  Katie’s brows narrowed, telegraphing her displeasure with the man who was both her boss and her brother-in-law. “A woman should be independent. Ivy and Dolly need safe, reliable transportation.”

  “I have plenty of cars,” Farrell said. He turned to Ivy. “If you wanted to borrow a car, all you had to do was ask.”

  Now Ivy was caught. She moved closer to Katie. “I told them I wanted to buy a car. They’re offering me Katie’s old one.”

  “You can have one of mine,” he said. “For free.”

  Ivy could tell that he was serious. “I appreciate the offer,” she muttered. “But since I work for you, it’s probably less messy if I deal with Katie and Quin.”

  “Messy?” His eyes glittered.

  She stared at him, daring him to make a scene. No one knew that Ivy and Farrell were lovers. She wanted to keep it that way. “Let’s change the subject,” she said. “Your guests are ready to go.”

  Farrell strode to the far side of the porch, leaving Katie and Quin to stare after him in disbelief.

  Quin turned to Ivy. “What was that all about? He was pissed, and I didn’t even do anything.” His aggrieved expression was comical.

  Katie, on the other hand, stared at Ivy as if her brain was doing calculations and perhaps coming up with the right answers.

  Ivy gave them a big smile, hoping to derail Katie’s suspicions. “Who knows? That brother of yours can be a bit of a curmudgeon.” She glanced around, searching for a way out. “If you’ll both excuse me, I need to say a few more goodbyes.”

  She talked to the Namibian couple, then exchanged email addresses with the Italian mother and father and the two daughters. One of the daughters handed Ivy a small tissue-wrapped parcel. “For your baby,” she said shyly. “It’s a doll I made from a handkerchief. My stitching is not very good.”

  Ivy unwrapped the package and smiled. It was the perfect toy for an inquisitive toddler. “I love it,” she said. “Dolly will, too. Grazie.”

  The hired cars had pulled up adjacent to the base of the steps. Though the drivers exited and were standing by to receive their passengers, no one seemed in any particular hurry to go back to Portland.

  Probably because the Stone brothers knew how to throw a party.

  Zachary motioned for the drivers to collect the bags. Ivy moved in his direction and tried to pick up a carry-on or two. “I can help,” she said.

  “Not necessary, but thanks.” He gave her a smile that was enough like his brother’s to give her heart a squeeze.

  The youngest of the drivers hefted three large suitcases, one in each hand and one under his arm, perhaps trying to impress the two Italian girls. When he swung around to descend the steps, the corner of a hard-sided bag bumped Ivy’s hip. She stepped back instinctively to give the kid more room, but her foot found nothing but air.

  She tried to regain her balance. It was too late.

  The world turned upside down as she tumbled down the stairs.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Farrell was more than ready for everyone to be gone. He wanted his house to himself again. As he tried to usher people toward the transportation, he heard someone cry out. He spun on his heel, just in time to see Ivy fall down the steep front stairs.

  His heart stopped. His feet refused to move. Fear paralyzed him. His vision narrowed, and for a moment, he felt as if he might pass out.

  Dead. She could be dead.

  Everyone surged en masse. Except Farrell. He tried to move, but his arms and legs felt uncoordinated, heavy. Zachary got to Ivy first. It wasn’t until Farrell saw Ivy speaking to his brother that he was finally able to force himself down the steps.

  Someone offered to call an ambulance. Farrell crouched beside his lover. “No point,” he said gruffly. “It would be an hour until someone gets here.”

  Zachary touched the bleeding scrape on Ivy’s cheek. “He’s right. My first-aid training is up-to-date. Let’s evaluate her and make a decision.”

  Farrell nodded.

  Ivy lifted an arm and waved her hand. “I’m right here. And I’m okay. It was my own clumsiness. I’ll have bruises, but it’s nothing serious.”

  “We’ll be the judge of that.” Farrell was curt.

  Quin and Katie were having a whispered conference on the sidelines.

  After Farrell and Zachary checked Ivy’s arms and legs for broken bones, Farrell scooped her into his arms and moved carefully up the stairs, Zachary at his side. In the master suite, Farrell laid Ivy gently on his bed. The very same bed where he had lost himself in madness the night before.

  Zachary checked her pulse. Examined her pupils. Barked out half a dozen questions. “Did you hit your head?” he asked urgently. “Tell us the truth.”

  “No,” Ivy said forcefully. “I scraped my cheek on the corner of a step, but I don’t even have a headache. My hip took the worst of it. Give me some ibuprofen, and I’ll be fine. I need to get Dolly, so Delanna can leave.”

  Farrell stared at her, his heart still beating sluggishly. “Quin left with the group, because some of them had planes to catch. Katie stayed behind to look after the baby. B
e still, damn it,” he said when Ivy tried to get up.

  She glared at him. “I know my own body. I’m not badly hurt.”

  Zachary shoved his hands in his pockets, his expression concerned. “Possibly. But we have to make sure you’re not in shock. Farrell, you stay with her. I’ll round up something for that wound.”

  Suddenly, silence descended. Ivy wouldn’t look at him. Words he wanted to say hovered on his lips, but he choked them back. Sick to his stomach, he suddenly wanted to be anywhere but in this room.

  Over and over in his head, he saw Ivy falling. Falling. Falling.

  Zachary returned and cleaned Ivy’s cheek. Then he added some antibiotic ointment and covered the deep scrape with a Band-Aid. “I don’t think it will hurt to get it wet tonight. And you should sleep with it uncovered.”

  Ivy smiled. “Thanks, Zachary. I’m fine. Honest.”

  Farrell stared down at the bed. Why did Ivy look so impossibly small and defenseless? His heart turned over in his chest. What were these wild, tangled feelings that writhed inside him? He didn’t love her. He was concerned. That was all.

  “We’ll let you rest,” he said abruptly. He turned to his brother. “Let’s find Katie and make a game plan.”

  In the kitchen, the three adults gathered. Katie grimaced. “Dolly is ready for her afternoon nap. What do you want me to do?”

  Farrell paced, opened the fridge and extracted a beer. He downed half of it in two gulps. “Put the baby down in the study. Bring me the monitor. Then you and Zachary hit the road and see if you can catch up with the rest of the group. Quin will need help in Portland sorting everything out, because they’re not all staying at the same hotel.”

  Zachary nodded. “Fair enough. And somebody—I can’t remember who—is flying out tonight, not in the morning.”

  “I think it’s Luca,” Katie said. She held Dolly close, stroking her head. “Okay. I’ll get this little one to sleep and say goodbye to Ivy. Zachary, let me know how soon you want to leave.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Fifteen minutes?”