Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

by Bella Andre

  "Did you and Wesley date in college?"

  "No. We were just friends."

  "When did that change?"

  She dreaded this next part. Because this was where things got sticky and didn't totally add up--even in her own mind. But she owed him the fullest explanation she could give. "It didn't. Not really. That was the problem, in the end. I think we were both far more enamored with the idea of getting married and settling down than we were of each other."

  "So you didn't love him?"

  Christie knew what he was thinking, that she'd set out to hurt his brother on purpose. "Of course I love Wesley. I've loved him practically from the moment I met him." She was sitting straighter on her stool now, her shoulders back, her chin up. "But as a friend."

  "How could it have taken you so long to realize this? You were engaged for months."

  "You're right," she admitted. "It shouldn't have taken so long for me to figure out that marrying your brother was wrong and that neither of us should settle for anything less than the kind of love that Sarah and Calvin have for each other." A part of her couldn't believe she was saying these deeply personal things to a man she'd met only hours before. But she was sick and tired of trying to pretend that she felt something she didn't.

  "So when you realized this," Liam said, "you broke it off with him."

  "I was going to, but before I could, he told me he'd also finally realized he couldn't marry me. So we agreed to call off the wedding and stay friends. But then I found his note the next morning." She hated this. Hated knowing without a shadow of a doubt that Liam was going to keep pushing and pushing and pushing at her until she broke. But all she could do tonight was shake her head, feeling trapped in a terrible web. One that she'd helped to weave. "I thought we were going to have a chance to talk about things more, that we were going to stand together to tell everyone about calling off the wedding."

  "Do you really expect me to believe that he left without telling you why he was leaving?" His voice was still smooth, but there was steel behind every word. Along with a determination to learn not only Wesley's secrets...but every single one of hers too. "You've just told me he's your closest friend. So why wouldn't he have confided in you, even if you both made a mistake about getting engaged? I get that you made a promise to him, but I'll never be able to forgive you if he's hurt and you didn't give me the information I need to help him."

  "I've told you everything I can!" She couldn't keep her cool any longer. She shoved away from the counter and dropped her plate and cup into the sink with a clatter. "Even things that you have no right to know, frankly, about my relationship with your brother."

  But she could see from the hard, closed look on Liam's face that he didn't care about what she'd told him. Only what he was--rightly--assuming she hadn't. Didn't he realize how bad she felt about having to keep his brother's secret?

  Well, no, of course he didn't. Which was why there was no point in her spending another minute down here with him. Why hadn't she just ignored her stupid grumbling stomach and stayed upstairs to take a bath?

  Which was when she remembered her dress. And the stupid zipper.

  Of all the people to have to ask for help. She almost groaned out loud. But knowing it was either Liam or the scissors, she turned around to face him one more time tonight.

  Wishing the earth would open up and swallow her whole, she made herself say, "This is really awkward, but I'm afraid I need your help with something." She lifted her right arm slightly. "The zipper on my dress is stuck. That's partly why I came downstairs. I was hoping to find someone who could help me. Since we're the only ones up, I'd really appreciate your help."

  Her request hung in the air between them for a long moment before he finally moved toward her. She shouldn't have felt like a lamb being stalked by a lion, but she most definitely did. And as he came closer, ten feet dissolving to five, then three, then a handful of inches, she had to firmly resist the urge to back up.

  He'd touched her only once before now--when he'd grabbed her shoulders after the wedding to ask about Wesley--and she hadn't been able to forget the feel of his hands on her yet. She really didn't need round two to make things worse.

  "Lift your arm a little more," he said softly.

  That was when she made the mistake of looking up at him, and his eyes caught hers. She'd heard what he said, but her brain couldn't seem to comprehend the meaning of it. Not when he was standing this close. Not when she could finally see the faint line of a scar that cut across his face, cheek to chin. Not when she was breathing in his deliciously masculine scent, reminiscent of cedar chips and summer bonfires.

  Finally, her brain registered his words and she lifted her arm. He held still just long enough for her to wonder if he was as reluctant to touch her as she was to be touched by him.

  And then she felt his fingers lightly brush the side of her rib cage over her dress. She could feel her body reacting to his nearness, heat creeping across her skin, a fierce rush of desire that had no business swamping her system from nothing more than the lightest brush of his fingertips.

  He worked the zipper slowly, steadily. Feeling lightheaded, she realized she was holding her breath.

  "I see what's stuck. But I'm going to have to get at it from the inside." His low tones wrapped around her like velvet.

  "From the inside?"

  "I'm afraid so."

  How she wished he was like her sisters' husbands. They made her laugh, made her groan at their jokes and love of football, and she loved them because they loved her sisters, but that was it. There were no hidden currents. No reasons she wouldn't want to be alone with them in a dark hallway. And if one of them had to reach inside her dress to fix a stuck zipper, even if they got a feel-up by accident, they would've simply laughed about it later.

  But neither she nor Liam was laughing.

  And she honestly wasn't sure she'd survive even one more second of his fingertips brushing over her skin.

  She had to stop thinking this way. There was nothing between her and Liam. And there never would be. He was simply Wesley's brother. Getting all weird about his fingers inside her dress was crazy.

  "Okay," she said as firmly as she could manage. "Go for it."

  She tried to think of something, anything but Liam's lightly callused fingertips sliding over her. She focused on the problems they'd had ordering new silverware for the inn's dining room. She reviewed her mental files on the guest last week who'd "accidentally" packed the room's alarm clock. Heck, she went all the way back to the time when she was five and had the mumps so bad she could hardly recognize herself in the mirror.

  But nothing, not one single thing she could think of, could distract her from the sensation of Liam's warm touch on her sensitive skin.

  Finally, the lining of her dress shifted out of the zipper's teeth, and in one smooth motion, he pulled it all the way down, then back up.

  Abruptly, he moved away. So fast that he half spun her around. She blurted, "Thank you," then shot toward the door and up the stairs to her room.

  She'd vowed not to keep running. But if ever there was a time and place to run, it was now.

  Because with only the slightest brush of his fingers across her skin, Liam Kane had made her feel things no other man ever had.

  *

  What was wrong with him?

  If Liam had been the least bit in control of any of his senses, he would have gotten the hell out of the kitchen the minute Christie walked in. But every second he spent with her had his brain working less and less on a rational plane. Which was crazy, because he was always rational. Hell, he'd used his analytical mind to make millions upon millions of dollars.

  She looked soft, warm, sweet. But finding out just how smooth her skin actually was...

  Sweet Lord, he couldn't believe how close he'd been to kissing her. She'd just told him that she and Wesley didn't love each other. That they were just friends. So there was no barrier there.

  But there were others. Big one
s, like the fact that he was certain she wasn't telling him the full truth about Wesley's disappearance.

  Yes, she seemed like an open book. It looked like everything she felt was written on her face. In fact, when she'd been talking about wanting love, her wistful longing had almost gotten to him. To the heart he swore he didn't have.

  But he knew better than to be fooled by it. Not when painful experience had taught him that people held back as much as they could get away with.

  Liam's early years as a venture capitalist had been exciting, but over the past year or so he'd tired of the scene, of dealing with people who were in it only for the win. Just as he always had been. He'd come back to Summer Lake for his brother's wedding and to prepare for his next career move, but now he realized he should have come back sooner.

  His brother had needed him. And he hadn't been there for Wesley. Liam wouldn't make that mistake again.

  Just as he wouldn't make the mistake of letting Christie's big eyes and sweet mouth turn him into the gullible idiot he'd sworn he'd never be for a woman.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Despite a late night reading through business proposals and contracts, Liam was up early. Not as early as Christie, however, who was on the phone at the registration desk. He found it hard to believe how fresh and bright she looked, considering how hard she'd obviously worked putting on Sarah and Calvin's wedding, while also keeping the inn running without Wesley.

  She hadn't yet noticed him standing by the door as she said, "Mom, I'm fine." There was a little frown between her eyebrows. "Please stop worrying about me. I've told you before, it's not like I'm all alone out here. I have a lot of wonderful friends." She gave a little shake of her head, her blond hair moving around her shoulders. "Please don't come right now, and don't let any of my sisters drive up either." She lifted her eyes to the ceiling as if looking for divine intervention. "No, it's not that I don't want you to visit. Of course I do. But when you come, I want it to be for a vacation, so that you can relax on the lake. Summer will be a much better time for that. Besides, I have so much to do right now with the Tapping of the Maples Festival that I'm afraid I wouldn't get enough time to spend with you." Finally, her lips curved up slightly at the corners. "It's going great. But I'm crazy busy trying to run the inn too." Her smile fell away at whatever her mother said in response. "Wesley would be here to help me with everything if he could."

  It sounded like she meant it. At the same time, there was a slight thread of irritation, but whether it was at her mother or his brother--or both--he wasn't sure.

  "I know I made another bad decision," she was saying into the phone, bristling a little as she defended herself, "but I'm staying this time." Christie's voice had risen, and she was pacing the small area behind the counter. "Even though things didn't work out with Wesley, that doesn't mean I have to pack up all my things and leave my friends and my job. I really love being an innkeeper. And I love Summer Lake." Remorse--and heightened frustration--flashed across her mouth as she said, "Of course I love you all too! But I've made my decision. I'm staying." Before her mother could say anything else, Christie said, "Give my love to everyone. I'll call again soon."

  She'd been firm without becoming nasty. Yet again, she'd surprised him with her strength of will. She was a great deal tougher than anyone would ever guess, given how sweet and gentle she looked. It wasn't just her angel's face that gave that impression; it was the picture of those pink-painted toes he'd seen the night before that wouldn't leave his brain.

  The inn was clearly home to her. That was why she felt comfortable coming downstairs to the kitchen without shoes on. Whereas Liam hadn't felt as though he had a home in a very long time. Although, in truth, the inn had a warmth about it now that managed to draw him in and make him want to stay, when for years he'd barely been able to come home without itching to get away again as soon as he could.

  Just then, Mrs. Higgins, the inn's head chef, stepped out of the kitchen and pulled him in for a hug. "Liam! Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes? I heard you were back but didn't get a chance to feast my eyes on you yesterday. Stand still and let me get a good look at you." Mrs. Higgins grinned at him, her eyes twinkling. "I can see that you're still the heartbreaker you always were."

  Knowing better than to argue with the woman who used to change his diapers when he was a baby, he let her bring him into the kitchen, where he grabbed a piece of perfectly crisp bacon. "Are there any of your delicious scones left?"

  She nodded to a tray beside her. "I just pulled a new batch fresh from the oven. How many, sweetie?"

  Only Mrs. Higgins would call him sweetie. And, strangely, it was okay when she did it. Because she was one of those very rare people who was just as nice as she seemed. No hidden shadows. No secrets.

  "How about four?"

  She raised her eyebrows. "Got a big appetite today, do you?"

  "I'd like to take some out for Christie too."

  Her expression softened. "Such a wonderful person, isn't she? And so good with the guests. Although I've always thought there's a little bit of wicked inside her to get out." Before he could reply to her offhand comments, she said, "Let me just add a pot of tea. It's a new maple tea that she's been experimenting with for the festival." She handed him the tray. "Her idea to launch the event is a smart one for this town, no question about it." She patted his hand. "With Wesley gone, I'm so glad you're here to help Christie take care of everything. Lord knows her load is heavy enough."

  When he carried the tray out to Christie, she looked up in surprise as he placed the scones and tea in front of her. "Mrs. Higgins said these were your favorite." He had a feeling that if she knew it had been his idea, she might refuse them.

  "They are. Thank you." As she picked one up, she seemed wary of him. Given the way he'd grilled her the previous night, he couldn't blame her.

  Still, though jumping right back into it with her this morning wasn't the wisest choice, he needed her to know something. "My secretary found Wesley's letter."

  "I knew he had to have contacted you," she said, clearly relieved to hear it. "Did he tell you anything about his whereabouts?"

  "No." Damn it. "Just what he'd said in his note to my parents."

  "I'm sorry. I know you were hoping for clues. We all were."

  Liam felt a pang of guilt at what he wasn't telling her--that Wesley had, in fact, said more. It's my fault. Treat Christie kindly--she deserves it. Of course he wanted to be kind to her--but he also wanted answers as to where his brother had gone.

  But since she clearly wasn't yet ready to tell him, he asked instead, "How have things been going here at the inn with him gone?"

  She poured two cups of tea and handed him one. It smelled surprisingly good, like being out in the thick sugar bush behind the inn.

  "Good. Busy, but good."

  "Mrs. Higgins mentioned a maple festival?"

  Christie's face lit up. "It's going to be wonderful." She handed him a well-designed flyer. "Three days of nonstop maple syrup, maple cookies, maple candies." She lifted her cup. "Even tea. I've found some incredible vendors over the past few weeks. I really think people are going to love being able to tap the maple trees themselves. I had someone come out and do a demonstration for me a few weeks ago, and it was really fun." She pointed to a spreadsheet in front of her. "Just a few more details to iron out and the festival should be smooth sailing in two weeks."

  Liam scanned the flyer. "How are you managing to run the inn by yourself and put on this festival at the same time? Especially with Wesley gone?"

  "Honestly, it hasn't been easy. But I've been pulling it all off so far." She gave him a little smile that made his heart do funny things inside his chest. "Besides, who needs sleep? I figure I can do a little reverse hibernation after the snow thaws and the festival has passed."

  "What are you going to do if a ball drops?"

  She was about to take a bite of her scone when his question registered. Holding it halfway to her mouth, she said, "Excuse me?" />
  "It's great that you've been managing to pull everything off so far. But what's going to happen when you have a problem with one of your festival suppliers and you're needed to deal with an emergency at the inn?"

  Her face paled. He felt a little bad about poking holes in her plans, but spotting problems--and solving them before they happened--was a big part of his career success.

  "I suppose I'll have to deal with those issues if they come," she finally said. "And hope that they don't."

  "I disagree," he said with a shake of his head. "You should hire someone to deal with the festival and focus on your job at the inn."

  She dropped the scone back on the plate. "The festival is mine. I'm not hiring someone else to take it over for me when it's the first thing besides running the inn that I've ever felt really proud of."

  He couldn't believe the way she continually spilled her innermost thoughts and feelings. He would never--ever--admit to anyone the kinds of things she did. How could anyone be this devoid of pretense? But that didn't change the situation she was currently in--one where it was far too easy for her to be pulled in a half-dozen different directions.

  Which was why he had to say, "I'm afraid I don't see how the situation can continue for much longer. I saw the way you ran around taking care of everything yesterday at the wedding, and I can also see how much energy it takes to run the inn. I'd hate for this business to suffer because you're focused on some festival."

  "First of all, Wesley trusted me with the inn while he was gone. I would never let any part of it suffer." Last night he'd seen the same fight in her when he'd relentlessly gone after her about his brother. "Second, it's not just some festival. The Tapping of the Maples Festival is going to do great things for this town and the inn. And third, considering Wesley is the owner of the inn, I'm going to ask you to respect his wishes and let me run it as I always have."