A Love Surrendered

by Julie Lessman

  Joe huffed out a sigh and cocked his head to study his best friend. “She’s not Maggie, Steven,” he said quietly, “she’s a nice kid who I have a feeling will keep you in line.”

  “And if she doesn’t?” Steven peered up, the shame of his past making him nauseous. “I can’t go there again, Joe. Better to stick with my own kind of women like Erica, who I can have fun with, dance with, even kiss on occasion without anything more.”

  “You were in love with Maggie,” Joe said quietly. “You can’t blame yourself for that.”

  “Yeah, I can, because it was wrong no matter how you paint it. What I felt for Maggie may have started out as love, but lust cheapened it, made it something ugly and dirty.” He jabbed a thumb to his chest. “I made it ugly and dirty, and I’m done. Innocent girls like Annie only bring out the worst in me . . .” He heaved a weighty sigh, slowly slipping his hands into his pockets. “Like Maggie used to be,” he whispered.

  “So you spend time with women like Erica, where marriage isn’t even an option?”

  “Yeah, because I’m not looking to get married.” A bay-scented breeze cooled Steven’s face, chilling his body despite the warmth of the night. Couldn’t Joe see it? That he wasn’t cut out for marriage? His relationship with Maggie had made that abundantly clear. A love-hate relationship that almost destroyed everything good in his life—his family, his faith, his own self-respect. Not just as a son or an O’Connor, but as a man. He thought he loved Maggie to the depth of his being, but the more they explored that love, the deeper his guilt. Guilt over loving her so much that he craved her love, and then guilt over hating her when she gave it. A guilt that became a two-edged sword, severing his ties with everything he held dear while disgust and desire warred for his soul. If that was love . . . marriage . . . then he wanted nothing to do with it.

  “How long you gonna punish yourself for what happened with Maggie?” Joe said quietly.

  Steven exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Till this awful feeling goes away whenever I think of her.” Regret constricted his throat. “Of what we did.”

  “It was a lousy mistake, Steven . . . and Maggie miscarried before anyone ever knew.”

  Guilt lapped at his soul like the black, murky waters lapped against the dock, drowning his peace. “I knew, Joe,” he whispered, “and that’s all that matters.” He shook his head. “You’d think after the grief and worry I put her through, I’d never risk it again. But I did, over and over.” His laugh was harsh. “A man in love, but too weak to say no . . . until it almost killed my father.”

  Joe slapped him on the back. “Come on, Steven, lighten up. You haven’t done anything the rest of us haven’t. It just got a little messier with you and Maggie, that’s all. And it’s over now, part of your past. Don’t make it part of your future too.”

  “Trust me, I have no intention of making it part of my future, not with the kid or anyone else.”

  Joe’s lip curled as his tone took a turn toward dry. “Or mine, I hope. I hate it when you’re in the dumps, O’Connor, because you drag me there too.”

  Steven smiled. “So, this is about you, then?”

  “Absolutely. I just want you happy, because when you have fun, I have fun.”

  Steven’s smile faded as his eyes locked with Joe’s. “Yeah, but not with the kid, okay?”

  Joe studied him through lidded eyes. “Can’t protect her from every guy out there.”

  The corner of Steven’s lip quirked up. “No, but at least I can protect her from me.” He hooked Joe’s shoulder in a show of affection. “And you, of course, buddy boy. Then maybe between the two of us, we can ward off the rest of the bums.”

  “Kind of like good-looking big brothers, huh?” Joe’s grin eased into wicked. “I’m not worried about me, O’Connor, because I know I can do it, but you?” He shook his head. “When we came back to the table, I thought I was going to have to wipe the drool from your mouth.”

  Steven laughed, easing the tension in his shoulders. “Yeah? Well, I already told ya my college days are over. From now on it’s the straight and narrow. I’ll keep my chin dry and the kid safe, just like I’d do for my own baby sister.”

  “I don’t know,” Joe said, shaking his head. “She’s got it bad for you, Steven. What the heck did you do to her on that walk home anyway?”

  Steven ambled to the door, hoping to deflect his discomfort with a show of bravado. “Not a blasted thing, Walsh, just pure, unadulterated charm.” He grinned. “Just like all the others.”

  “Uh-huh.” Joe gave him a narrow look. “Problem is, she’s not like all the others.”

  Steven held the door with a tight smile. “Yeah, and if I have my way, she never will be.”

  “Something’s not right,” Annie whispered to Peggy when Steven steered Erica onto the floor.

  She peeked at Joe across the way. He hadn’t made eye contact since he and Steven returned an hour ago, and she was pretty sure he’d switched camps. In fact, both men acted as if she wasn’t even there, dancing and flirting with other women or cutting up with the other guys.

  “What d’ya mean?” Peggy slipped into her seat. A welcome breeze, thick with the loamy scent of the mossy dock, drifted in from a window overlooking the bay, fluttering her curls.

  Annie yanked the V of her neckline up for the umpteenth time, then slipped her heels off to rub her sore feet. “I mean an hour ago, Steven was fit to be tied and Joe intent on proving him jealous. Suddenly they’re back, thick as thieves, and neither one has said boo to me.”

  Peggy slapped a limp strand of hair from her eyes. “Well, that’s just plain rude. If those two are going to play games, then we can too.”

  “Uh, I think we already are,” Annie said with a long face. She tugged her neckline up again and snatched a flyer from the table to fan her face, ready to melt. “And from where I’m sitting, it seems like Steven isn’t interested, which means I debased myself for nothing.”

  A throaty laugh rolled from Peggy’s lips as she took a sip of her pop. “Trust me, Annie Lou, the way Steven O’Connor ogled you, I doubt it was for nothing. I’m guessing from all his big-brother lectures last week, he thinks you’re too young, which is why he’s keeping his distance.” She winked. “Otherwise, I’ll bet there wouldn’t be any distance or space at all.”

  Heat steamed Annie’s cheeks. She shot a glance over her shoulder and spotted Steven through the crowd, Erica plastered against him so tight, they may as well have been one person. Her heart sank. “Maybe he’s right, maybe I am too young. He’s seven years older than me and used to women with a lot more experience. Maybe I don’t have what it takes.”

  “Oh, you got what it takes, all right. We’re just not using the right bait.”

  “What do you mean ‘the right bait’?” she said, pulse tripping along with her stomach.

  “I mean you rattled Steven’s cage when he thought Joe was interested, right? Well, since Joe obviously bailed on you, we just have to rattle it again.” Peggy pursed her lips, conspiracy bright in her eyes. “You know, with somebody Agent O’Connor can’t abide?”

  Annie blinked and then gasped. “Oh no you don’t, not Brubaker!”

  “Why not?” Peggy asked, a bit indignant. “You want to light a fire under Steven or not?”

  Butterflies did the Lindy Hop in her stomach with more swoops and swirls than Steven and Erica in the band’s last song. Annie closed her eyes, wishing she didn’t have to resort to tricks and ploys. She peeked up. “Okay, but not Brubaker. How ’bout one of the others I danced with?”

  Peggy hiked a dark russet brow. “Have you seen any smoke coming out of Agent O’Connor’s ears tonight, other than when you danced with Joe?”

  A depleted sigh huffed from Annie’s lips. “No.”

  “Then you best leave the finagling to me,” Peggy said with a wry smile. “Because you may be class valedictorian, but honestly, Annie, when it comes to romance, you’re just—”

  “I know, I know—book smart, s
treet stupid.” Annie’s chin slumped in her hand just as Joe escorted his dance partner back to her table. Swiping a quick swig of his pop, he gave Annie a wink, then turned to laugh and chat with the guys. Annie sat straight up. “Wait, why don’t I just come out and ask Joe?” She slapped herself in the head. “Goodness, I am street stupid.”

  “Sure . . . if you think you can get him to talk to you,” Peggy said with a grunt.

  “Well, maybe I’ll just . . . just . . . I don’t know, ask him to dance.” An involuntary shiver rippled her sweater. “All I know is, Brubaker gives me the creeps.”

  Peggy checked her lipstick in her hand mirror, then glanced up. “Wait, there was this one guy Joanie mentioned once.” The whites of her eyes expanded. “Hey, that’s it! Dale Brannock! Joanie had a crush on him, but then all the girls did. He’s a bigger sheik than Steven, if you can imagine, and the guys hate him.” She wriggled her brows. “Especially Steven.”

  “Why?” Annie asked, curious.

  “Who knows? Maybe it had something to do with Maggie, but the guy is as gorgeous as Valentino and just as dangerous, from what I hear, so I’ll just ask Joanie—”

  “No!” Annie nabbed her friend. “Joanie can’t know I like Steven. She’ll tell Erica.”

  “Don’t get your garter in a glitch, Annie, I’ll be discreet.”

  “Oh yeah, about as discreet as this shrunken sweater you forced me to wear.” Annie’s whisper was harsh, her patience shrinking along with the pullover.

  Peggy hiked her chin. “Well, if you don’t want my help . . .”

  “I do, Peg,” Annie pleaded, “I just don’t want anyone else to know, okay? Please?”

  “Mum’s the word,” Peggy said with an imaginary lock of her lips. She looked up when Joanie returned from a dance. “Hey, sis, did ya happen to notice if Dale Brannock is here tonight?”

  Joanie slid into her chair, the edge of her lip zagging up. “Notice Dale? You kidding? Any girl who doesn’t is either cold or dead. Yeah, why?”

  “Oh, nothing, I was just telling Annie what a sheik he is, and she wanted to see him.”

  Joanie leaned in, a look of longing in brown eyes framed by russet brows. “Oh, honey, trust me. The man makes Valentino look downright homely.” She sighed and nodded toward the bar. “Yeah, I saw him surrounded by his fan club over there.” She scoped out the dance floor. “I see Erica’s making headway with Steven. Good for her. That must be their sixth dance.”

  “And her last if we have any say,” Peggy muttered in Annie’s ear.

  Joanie jumped back up, purse in hand. “Hey, Peg, if Erica’s looking for me, tell her I went to powder my nose.” Her brows did a dance. “And catch a glimpse of Dale Brannock.”

  The instant Joanie disappeared, Peggy tugged Annie up and pushed her toward Joe. “You’re on, Annie Lou. Get the scoop from Joe while I hunt down Dale Brannock.”

  Annie spun around, eyes wide. “What? What are you going to do?”

  “Never you mind. Your job is to get Joe on the dance floor, pronto, over there, close to Steven and Erica.” With a sultry pat of her hair, Peg winked and darted off.

  Legs as wobbly as her confidence, Annie headed for Joe, gaze welded to his back while he, Mark, and Allan chatted with the girls at the next table. The milk gravy she’d had for dinner lumped in her stomach when she tapped on his shoulder. “Joe?”

  He looked back, eyes flaring for a brief moment before a guarded smile eased across his lips. “Annie, why aren’t you dancing? All those guys wear you out?”

  “No,” she whispered, cheeks burning at the prospect of asking a man to dance. She swallowed her pride and peeked up beneath sooty lashes. “Actually, Joe, I was hoping . . . that is, I was wondering . . .” She gulped and sucked in more air. “Would you dance with me, please?”

  He paused, gaze softening before he reached to give her hand a squeeze. “Sure, kid, come on.” He led her to the floor, but when he stopped at the edge, she pulled him farther into the crowd until they were only feet away from where Steven and Erica danced cheek to cheek. Holding her at a respectable distance, Joe studied her through patient eyes, a sympathetic smile shadowing his lips. “So, what’s on your mind, Annie?”

  Her hands were sweating, but when she glanced up, the kindness in his face slowed her heart to a steady beat. She smiled. “Thanks for making this easy, Joe.”

  “Sure, kid.” He pulled her close in a soft spin. “But I think it’s only fair to tell you I was only half right about Steven—he does care about you, but not the way you hoped.” He drew back, eyes connecting with hers. “He sees you as a little sister, Annie, and nothing more.”

  Heat broiled her cheeks and she jutted her chin. “That’s not how he looks at me, Joe, and you and I both know it.”

  His weary sigh breezed against her face as he tucked her close for another slow whirl. “He’s a guy, Annie. We all look at pretty women that way. Besides, it doesn’t matter how Steven looks at you, he has no intention of getting involved, period.”

  She jerked away. “But you were all for it before, you said I’d be good for him.”

  “And I still believe that, but it’s Steven’s decision, not mine.” Joe exhaled and squeezed her hand. “He’s my best friend, and I have to respect his wishes.”

  “He’s an idiot,” she said, fighting the sting of tears.

  Joe nudged her chin up, eyes soft with concern. “Yes, occasionally he is, Annie, but he’s also entitled to choose with whom he spends his time.”

  “As am I,” she bit back, her chin taut against his finger.

  With another weary sigh, he dropped his hand and swept it to her waist, drawing her close to the beat of the music as the song came to an end. “Yeah, you are, kiddo, but keep in mind, we’re only looking out for your best interest.”

  “Well, don’t, because I don’t need—”

  “Excuse me, but I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  Startled, Annie looked up, vaguely aware that Joe’s grip had tightened. A tall, attractive man with dark hair and blue eyes gave her a smile that fused the words to her tongue. His open pinstripe shirt revealed a hint of dark hair beneath a white undershirt, while rolled shirtsleeves displayed hard-sculpted arms on one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen.

  “She’s dancing with me, Brannock,” Joe said none too kindly.

  The man arched a brow with a confidence that stilled the breath in Annie’s lungs. “I believe that’s up to the lady,” he said with an easy smile, his gaze all but buckling her knees.

  “Yeah, it is,” Joe said in a near snarl. “Tell him to scram, Annie, will ya?”

  Oh, goodness, as if she could! Jaw distended, Annie stood bolted to the ballroom floor, as stiff as the pillars that circled the room. “Uh . . . uh . . .”

  “The name is Dale Brannock,” the man said in a husky drawl. His gaze trailed down and up with a boyish smile. “Come on, Annie, tell this dope to take a powder and dance with me.”

  “Beat it, Brannock.” Joe hooked Annie away, obviously hoping to steer her to the table.

  “Wait!” Annie dug her heels in, suddenly aware the encounter was drawing attention from Steven and Erica a few couples away. The band started playing “Ain’t Misbehavin’,” and she placed her hand in Dale’s with a shaky smile. “Love to,” she breathed, then patted Joe’s arm. “Thanks for the dance, Joe. I appreciate you setting me straight.”

  “Annie, wait . . .”

  His voice trailed off as Dale swept her away, holding her so close, she felt like Erica.

  “So . . . ,” Dale said, assessing her through probing blue eyes, “I understand you need to make a certain guy jealous.”

  Annie looked up, his frank stare pinking her cheeks. “I . . . well, yes, and I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Brannock, for doing us this favor and helping me out.”

  He grinned, and it was a toss-up as to which stumbled more . . . her heart or her feet. “Oh, I’m s-so s-sorry,” she stuttered after her toes intruded on his.

&n
bsp; His response was another smile that would have stolen her breath . . . had she been breathing. “Dale,” he corrected. “So, who’s the lucky guy, and please tell me it’s not Walsh.”

  She laughed, his tone easing her nerves. “No, not Walsh. Worse, I’m afraid. His partner.”

  “O’Connor?” A low chuckle rumbled from Dale’s chest. “Then you tagged the right guy. O’Connor and I have butted heads before, which explains the daggers in his eyes right now.”

  “Really?” Annie attempted to turn around, but Dale braced her neck, prodding her close.

  “Don’t give him the satisfaction, Annie. Let him stew.” He leaned in to nuzzle her ear. “This should put a little heat under his collar,” he whispered, the warmth of his mouth all but melting her makeup. “So what do you see in a lug like O’Connor, anyway?”

  Annie closed her eyes, Dale’s touch muddling her mind. “I honestly don’t know,” she said, wondering what it’d be like to have Steven dancing with her like this. She released a breathy sigh. “He kissed me once, so I guess he got under my skin.”

  “Is that all it takes?” he whispered, the sway of the music and the huskiness of his tone making her dizzy. “Because if so, what do you say we get under his?” With an easy smile, his gaze dropped to her lips before looking back up, a bold question burning in his eyes.

  Annie swallowed hard, the pounding of her pulse louder than the music. She gave him a slow nod, and he eased in to gently graze his mouth over hers.

  “Mind if I cut in?”

  With a sharp jolt, Annie jerked in Dale’s arms, blinking up at Steven as if he’d doused her with cold water. No, make that ice water. She pushed hair from her eyes. “What?”

  The tic in his hard-chiseled face could have kept time with the music. “I said, do you mind if I cut in?”

  “Go find your own girl, O’Connor, this one’s mine,” Dale said with a possessive hold.

  Steven ignored him, eyes fused to Annie’s. “Please? I need to talk to you.”