A Love Surrendered

by Julie Lessman

  Something bittersweet plucked at Annie’s heart at Glory wanting to follow in the path of her big sister. Just like I used to with Maggie. Fighting a stab of melancholy, she nuzzled Glory’s nose. “Absolutely.” She slipped Steven a smile. “Do you have time to wait till I get her in the tub, Steven, or do I need to say goodbye now?”

  “I’ll wait,” he said, the look in his eyes doing funny things to her stomach.

  Aunt Eleanor removed her reading glasses and placed them on the table. “No, Annie, I’ll take care of Glory tonight.” She put her needlepoint aside and rose. “Steven’ll be leaving soon, dear, so I’ll let you see him out.” She bent to rumple Mr. Grump’s ears before tugging a yawning Glory away from Annie. “Come on, Mr. Grump, you can finish your nap upstairs.” Her smile was warm. “Good night, Steven, thank you for giving my girls such a wonderful day.”

  My girls. Annie’s throat thickened as she gave Glory to her aunt with a grateful smile.

  “My pleasure, Miss Martin,” Steven said, squatting to gather the games from the floor.

  Annie ruffled Glory’s hair before they left the room with Mr. Grump toddling behind. “Thanks, Aunt Eleanor, I’ll be up shortly to take over. And don’t overdo it with my bubble bath, you stinkpot,” she called with a playful threat, “or I just may join you in that tub and give you some dunks.”

  “Now there’s a mental picture I’m pretty sure you don’t want me to have.”

  Annie spun around, cheeks aflame at the implication. She knelt to help put away the games, avoiding his eyes. “Uh, no, I’d rather you strike it from memory, if you don’t mind.”

  “Done,” he said with a chuckle, stretching out on his side to stack dominoes in a box a few inches away. His smile turned rogue. “Although not without repercussions, I’m afraid.”

  She peeked up. “Repercussions,” she repeated, battling a smile. “Such as?”

  “Such as thoughts of you in nothing but bubbles,” he whispered, voice husky as he reached to tug her close, nudging her back on the carpet with a hazardous smile.

  “Steven!” Her whisper was hoarse as he lay beside her, head propped in one hand while his muscled arm pinned her with the other. She wiggled to get back up, to no avail. “Stop it. What if Aunt Eleanor were to walk back in?” she whispered, voice frantic.

  The blue of his eyes deepened. “Come on, Annie,” he said softly, inching close. His tease faded to a whisper. “You can’t expect us to spend the day together without a single kiss and then taunt me with that image of you in the tub.”

  “Steven, I—”

  Her bones melted into warm honey when he kissed her right there on the carpet, and for several mind-numbing moments, nothing mattered but Steven’s mouth exploring hers or the warmth of his hand gliding her hips. A silent moan trapped in her throat when he pressed in close, lips skimming her jaw to nip at her ear. “Oh, Annie, I never met a girl like you . . .”

  “Oh, babe, I never met a girl like you . . .”

  She froze, Brubaker’s words hot in her ear. Heart racing, she pushed him away hard, her breathing as ragged as his when she stumbled to her knees. She suddenly felt cheap, and her anger flared. “No, I suspect you haven’t if you think I’m going to fall for a line like that, Steven O’Connor . . . or should I say, Billy Brubaker?”

  He stared, shallow breaths heaving from parted lips. The smoky glaze in his eyes glinted into anger. “I’m not Billy Brubaker,” he said, his whisper more than harsh.

  “Then don’t act like it,” she snapped, repeating the very words he’d once said to her.

  She’d never seen Steven blush before, but he did so now, a dangerous shade that bled all the way up his neck. His jaw was like rock as he rose to his feet, and his blue eyes were almost black. “I have to go, but please thank your aunt for dinner.” He strode toward the door and turned, tone clipped and gaze hard, displaying a temper she didn’t even know he had. “If I get a chance, I’ll give you a call, but don’t hold your breath, kid.” He turned to go.

  “Steven!” She jutted her chin, incensed he was turning the tables on her, making this her fault instead of his. “Just so you know,” she called, stopping him at the door as he glared over his shoulder, “don’t bother calling if you plan to pull this again. Because if you do—it’s over.”

  “If I call.” He jerked the front door open and slid her a granite gaze, a muscle flickering in his cheek. “Get this and get it good, little girl—no woman, much less a kid barely eighteen, is going to dictate to me, ya got that?” The door slammed hard, both on its hinges and in her heart, and she winced, praying the bathwater was running and Aunt Eleanor couldn’t hear.

  ———

  Steven stormed to his father’s car and hurled the door open, heaving it closed again with a deafening bang before grinding the ignition. The engine roared to life, rivaling the fury in his gut, and he was sorely tempted to squeal away from the curb. He punched the dash with his fist before slumping over the wheel with a hand to his eyes, desperate to control a temper he seldom lost. Every nerve in his body was on edge, tight, and ready to snap. Who the devil did she think she was? She was just some kid still wet behind the ears who thought she was going to tell him how it was going to be. Well, he had news for Miss Susannah Grace Kennedy, there were plenty of women who would accommodate him with a few kisses and more, and they certainly wouldn’t be naïve enough to compare him to vermin like Brubaker.

  “Oh, babe, I never met a girl like you . . .”

  The words suddenly stabbed in his brain, and his eyelids sank shut, all air heaving still in his chest. Like the shift of a kaleidoscope, the pieces fell into place and he suddenly saw just what Annie had seen—Brubaker pressuring a woman to get what he wants.

  “He doesn’t care like I do,” he hissed, but even as he said it, he could see the old Steven coercing his way, looking for pleasure with a woman he cared for until she gave him her all. Pushing, teasing, breaking her down . . . just like he’d done with Maggie.

  “Oh, Annie, I never met a girl like you . . .”

  But the truth was, he had, and he’d ruined her—just like he was trying to do to Annie.

  Sagging back against the seat, shame burned all anger away while bile climbed in his throat. Because deep down inside, he realized he wasn’t much different than Brubaker, and somehow he couldn’t live with that thought. God, help me, I am such a jerk . . .

  He flung the car door open, then slammed it again and loped up to the porch, pressing the buzzer so hard that his thumb ached. Peering through the thick, beveled glass, he thought he saw Frailey in the foyer, but his heart thudded to a stop at the approach of a woman instead.

  “Steven?” Eleanor Martin blinked, hand on the knob. “Did you forget something?”

  “Yes, Miss Martin, I did. I . . . forgot to tell Annie something.” Striving for nonchalance, he plunged his hands in his pockets and smiled, his voice calmer than he felt. “Is she still up?”

  “Certainly.” Eleanor stepped back. “Why don’t you come in, and I’ll get her.”

  “No,” he said too quickly, palm raised in the air. “I mean, I can’t stay. I just forgot to tell her something, so if it’s all the same to you, I’ll just wait right here.”

  “All right.” A furrow wrinkled her brow. “She’ll be right down.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” He exhaled his relief when she closed the door. Minutes later, Annie descended the steps, and when it wheeled open again, his heart climbed in his throat.

  “You have something to say?” Her voice was cool and her eyes, cautious.

  He swallowed hard, painfully aware that for the first time in his life, a girl had him by the throat. No, not a girl, he decided with a shaky exhale, a woman. A strong, beautiful woman who at eighteen was more mature and steady and smart than he could ever hope to be at twenty-five, and the realization humbled him considerably. And, he thought with a hard shift of his throat, diminished the years between them as well. He sucked in a fortifying breath, determined
to squash his pride and do the right thing.

  “Yeah, I . . .” His hands began to sweat, making him feel all of ten again. “Well, I wanted to apologize, Annie, for losing my temper and for . . . ,” he licked his lips, tongue so thick, he thought he would choke, “trying to . . . push you . . .” His voice trailed off as he stared at her, scared to death he was falling in love. Those pale green eyes and that fresh-scrubbed face dusted with freckles bewitched him like no other woman ever had, even Maggie. Beautiful inside and out, a gentle spirit and innocence he could drown in . . . and a body that could threaten it all.

  Annie, please—give me another chance.

  Taking a risk, he quietly hooked her fingers with his own, gently tugging her out on the porch. He closed the door till it was ajar, then released her and shoved his hands in his pockets with a tentative smile. “So, what do you say, kid—can you forgive me for being a jerk?”

  He waited, unable to breathe while she assessed him through pensive eyes, lips pursed as if she couldn’t decide. And then he saw it, the barest tilt of assent flickering at the corners of her beautiful mouth, and with a boyish smile, the air slowly seeped from his lungs. He took her hand in his and grazed her knuckles with his thumb. “Please tell me that’s a ‘yes.’ ”

  She nodded, and he inhaled deeply, releasing it again as he slowly drew her into his arms.

  “I’m really sorry, Annie, for losing my temper, but the bottom line is I’m so darned attracted to you, I have trouble keeping my hands to myself.”

  She pulled back to search his face, a tinge of sadness lining her smile. “It’s not easy for me either, Steven, because it’s no secret I’m in love with you, and when you kiss me like that . . . touch me like that . . .” Moisture glazed her eyes while her voice softened to a whisper. “I want to give you my all, but I can’t, because it doesn’t belong to you. My body may crave your touch and I may want to give you mine, but that’s not love, even if it seems like it at the time. True love always wants the best for the other, and although you may not agree, the best is only available through the hand of God.” She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “Which means, if you want a relationship with me, we’ll be doing things God’s way, not ours.” She cupped his bristled jaw with a soft smile, reeling him in with every breath that she took. “Because, my bottom line is I care about you too much to hurt you that way . . .”

  He exhaled loudly, one edge of his lip crooking up. “His way or the highway, huh?”

  She patted his cheek. “His way is the ‘high’ way, Agent O’Connor,” she said softly, lips sliding into an imp of a smile. “And as a federal agent who prides himself on toeing the line, I suggest when you’re with me, you keep all toes and hands from inching over, okay?”

  “I can’t help but notice there was no mention of lips,” he said, a bit of the rake in his tone while his mouth hovered over hers. “Something for which I am most grateful.” Before she could respond, he bent to kiss her, a tender wisp of his lips against hers—gentle, soft, innocent—like Susannah Kennedy herself, and so chaste it almost felt reverent. Eyes closed, he reveled in the taste of her, the scent of honeysuckle and Tabu creating a magical moment unlike any he’d ever known. He wanted to tell her he loved her, but he refrained, because the truth was, he wasn’t sure. Not sure it wasn’t lust like with Maggie, and unsure he could trust himself with a love as tender as the girl he held in his arms. Breaking the connection, he stepped away and exhaled, mouth crooking into a smile. “Well, you haven’t stomped on my toes yet, so I guess that was okay.”

  “More than okay,” she whispered, the sweet blush in her cheeks making him want to kiss her all over again. Her lips trembled into a smile. “I love you, Steven.”

  He stared, throat muscles working hard to fight a similar response. He cupped a palm to her cheek. “Have a good night, Annie,” he whispered. “At least, as good as you made mine.” Slipping his hands in his pockets, he sprinted to the street, grinning all the way to the car. Because his bottom line was—“good” didn’t even come close.

  Exhausted, Steven glanced at his watch before veering his father’s Model T onto Worth Street, where except for the buzz of locusts and the glow of streetlights, silence and darkness prevailed at one o’clock in the morning. Shifting gears, he sagged over the wheel as he drove, the cross from St. Stephen’s spire catching his eye, reminding him of Annie. His smile sloped sideways. But then everything reminded him of Annie these days, it seemed.

  He rubbed his bristled jaw as he coasted to a stop at the stop sign, wondering how on earth an innocent kid of barely eighteen could disarm a twenty-five-year-old federal agent who raided speakeasies for a living, tangled with disgruntled bouncers, and carried a gun. But disarm him she had, reducing him to a stammering sixteen-year-old with overactive hormones all over again. He blasted out a weary sigh. And to be painfully honest, he wasn’t all that sure he liked it.

  Oh, he liked Annie all right, and heaven knows he liked the attraction she stirred—a little too much according to her—but he had to admit a part of him felt uncomfortable with the control she wielded. Since senior year in high school, he’d always called the shots with women, held the reins, gotten his way, but not this time apparently. Even as free-spirited as Maggie had been, Steven had always known she’d go to any lengths to keep him around. And she had. His gut tightened. But, that wasn’t what he wanted from Annie.

  Was it?

  A familiar guilt crawled in his chest, thinning his air, and he knew it wasn’t, not deep down. But on the surface? Oh yeah . . . desire waged a war Steven had fought too many times before . . . and lost. But Annie was different, he argued, and a part of him was desperate to keep her that way. Unfortunately, it was at war with the part of him that didn’t want to. The part of him that wanted to hold her, kiss her, express his love in a way that seemed to control him as much as he wanted to control her. A way that felt so right and good at the time, but then ate away, both at his gut and the relationship he longed to have. Annie’s innocence and purity had captured him from the start, a glimmering oasis in a parched and thirsty wasteland littered with his own mistakes. From the very beginning, all he’d wanted was to protect her from men who would taint her, marring the very beauty that drew them. Steven downshifted at another stop sign, guilt stabbing anew. But who’s going to protect her from me?

  Exhaling heavily, he glanced at St. Stephen’s church, squinting over at the dimly lit school yard where a group of guys were involved in a game of moonlight basketball. A grin tugged and he pulled the Model T to the curb, arms draped over his door to hail his older brother. “Hey, O’Connor!”

  Sean turned, a flash of white teeth in a tan face gleaming with sweat. He jogged over to the car with a basketball under his arm, muscles slick from exertion on a September night far too steamy for basketball. Leaning in, he rested damp arms on the open window, thick blond brows arched high as he assessed Steven’s loosened tie and rolled-up sleeves. “The graveyard shift again? I thought you’d be out tonight with Annie or Joe.”

  “Special assignment,” Steven said with a twist of his lips, remembering how much he’d enjoyed Saturday night detail before Annie. “Spent the day at the zoo with Annie and her sister, then dinner and games at her aunt’s before duty called.”

  An easy grin tipped his brother’s lips. “Mmm . . . zoo with the kid sister and dinner with the family—sounds serious.”

  Steven’s mouth quirked, his brother’s probing statement prickling more than expected. The last thing he wanted was his family knowing how he felt about Annie. “Yeah, well, what it sounds like and what it is are two different things,” he said, tone defensive. “I like the kid and we have fun together, but don’t read any more into it than that.” He paused, gaze flicking to the group of guys on the court. “But talk about serious—you guys are way over the top if you’re tossing a ball around in this steam bath.”

  Glancing over his shoulder, Sean swatted at a mosquito. “Yeah, the guys are pretty crazed when it
comes to midnight basketball games.” Sean turned back with a grin. “But then they’re single and don’t have to raid speakeasies on Saturday nights, so the poor slobs have to burn excess energy off some way, I guess.”

  Steven shook his head, his smile flat. “I’ll tell you what, Sean, you sure lucked out with Emma. Can’t imagine many women who’d stand for midnight basketball with the guys.”

  “She’s one in a million all right, but then luck didn’t have a whole lot to do with it.”

  Somehow the statement nettled, and Steven fought off a scowl. All of his life, Sean had been the older brother he’d looked up to, the man he respected, and the bachelor he wanted to emulate. But when he’d abandoned his buddies and bachelorhood to fall in love with Emma last year, Steven suddenly felt alienated from the brother who’d always commiserated with him on religion and relationships. Overnight, Sean had gone from avoiding both like the plague to an all-out allegiance to God and marriage, happily committed to a woman and a faith that had transformed him into a new man. A weary sigh seeped through Steven’s lips. A man who obviously wouldn’t understand the struggles Steven now faced with Annie.

  Or would he?

  “Hey, you need a ride home?” Steven squinted, a sudden urge to talk to his brother.

  A slow grin worked its way across Sean’s face. “Sure.” He tossed his basketball onto the seat and called over his shoulder, “Hey, guys, I’m calling it a night. See you next week.” Rounding the car, he slipped in on the other side and slammed the door, gingerly rolling his neck with a groan. “Man, I’m getting too old for this.”

  Steven eyed the ball on the seat. “So you can take your ball and go home, just like that?”

  “Why not?” Another grin creased his lips. “I’ve got someone to go home to—these poor clowns don’t. Besides, Joe brought his, so they’ll be another hour or so.” He tapped the roof over his door. “Fifteen thirteen Dorchester, and take the scenic route.” Positioning an arm over the back of the seat, his easy grin faded enough for Steven to notice. “So . . . what’s on your mind?”