by Bella Andre
He shouldn't have touched her so intimately, but he hadn't been able to stop himself. No matter who she'd slept with, or how wrong it had been, it was pure instinct to want to protect her. Which was why he remained standing at her side. If she needed him to bodily throw this guy out, he'd be more than happy to take care of it.
"My schedule is really busy right now," she said. "I can't--"
"I came all this way," Mark whined. "At least hear me out. Just let me take you somewhere private tonight to explain everything to you. To try to make you understand."
With a resigned look on her face, she said, "I have a meeting tonight, but I might be able to spare a few minutes this afternoon."
Mark looked triumphant as he said, "Tell me when and where, and I'll be there. Your terms this time."
"Four p.m. Follow the signs to the public dock. I'll meet you out there."
His eyes grew big. "Are you kidding? It's freezing out there. Can't we meet somewhere warmer?"
"I thought you said they were my terms this time?"
He did a quick double take, almost as though he didn't quite recognize the woman standing in front of him. Or her strength. "Okay," he said, putting his hands up. "You're right. I'll be there."
Christie held herself perfectly still until he left the inn. Only then did she let her breath go slowly, her shoulders dropping slightly from her battle-ready position.
Liam half expected her to make an excuse about what had just happened, to try to spin it into something it wasn't. But he should have known better. Because Christie not only didn't act like other people--she also didn't seem to know how to brush awkward under the rug like anyone else.
"I'm really sorry about that," she said softly. "I'm just glad no guests came in while he was here."
Twenty years ago, Liam had learned how quickly things could change in fifteen short minutes. How his mother could go from being the person he loved and trusted most in the world to a virtual stranger. He'd vowed to keep himself far out of the path of any emotions that might put him back in that teenager's shoes again.
Since meeting Christie, however, pushing his feelings away had been a surprisingly difficult task. But he'd already made the mistake of touching her today. He couldn't afford any more mistakes. Especially given what he'd just learned--that she'd been the other woman.
What if one of Mark's kids had caught him with Christie? It would have scarred them for life.
A part of Liam wanted to lash out at her for making such a bad decision when it came to being with Mark, even if their relationship was in the past. But he forced himself to hold those words back and focus on business instead. "I've been reviewing the inn's files. I have a few questions for you."
She raised her eyebrows at his abrupt change of subject. "Is that something they teach you in business school? To act like nothing happened when we all know it just did?"
No one he worked with had ever been this bold, or this up front with him. But he knew better than to let himself get so riled up about whom she dated. "Your personal life is personal." The intense effort it was taking not to let himself get emotionally involved with her made his words hard. "And so is mine."
For a moment, he thought she might push back again. But then she simply nodded, one tight dip of her head, and said, "Which files do you have questions about?"
Though he'd gotten exactly what he'd said he wanted, he couldn't help but regret the distance between them as they pored over spreadsheets and files. Just as he couldn't help but say, when four o'clock approached, "I don't think you should meet Mark this afternoon."
Her eyes met his, no longer cool, but obviously irritated by his intrusion into her life. A personal life that he'd told her just hours ago he wanted nothing to do with--when now he was on the verge of playing the role of her bodyguard.
"Thank you for your concern," she said carefully, "but I can take care of myself."
Knowing he should back off, but finding it impossible, he tried again. "If something happened to you, Wesley would never forgive me."
"Ah. Yes. Wesley." Another flash of irritation crossed her face. "Well, he isn't here to stop me, is he?"
And clearly, as she grabbed both her coat and her bag of knitting for the group meeting that night, then practically slammed the door in Liam's face, he'd better not either.
*
"That guy from the inn is watching us, isn't he?" Mark said.
For a moment, she'd thought Liam was going to insist on coming out here with her. And even though she wouldn't have let him, she couldn't deny that a part of her hoped he was in fact watching over her, given that Mark's behavior was suddenly making her more than a little nervous.
"What Liam does is his own business," was all she said to her ex, however.
Liam had also said that her personal life was supposed to be hers alone. But even as he'd said it, she'd known that he was disgusted by the conversation he'd heard. And who wouldn't be? Mark had been married while they'd dated. Though she hadn't known it at the time, it still made her sick to her stomach to think about the part she'd played in the betrayal of his wife--no matter how unwitting.
"I don't like the way he looked at you," her ex said, as if he had any claim to her at all.
Christie stared at him in shock. Had she really been in love with him? Or had she just been in love with a fantasy of the perfect man? Because it was almost funny just how imperfect Mark had proved himself to be.
Maybe next time around, instead of searching for perfect, she should deliberately look for imperfect so that things could only get better, instead of worse. The thought had her mouth moving up into an unexpected smile.
"I've missed you so much," Mark said, brushing her cheek with the backs of his knuckles.
A year ago, she would have nuzzled into his caress, rather than flinching and pulling away. But things had changed.
She had changed.
"I need to get back to the inn. I just came out here to tell you that I'm not going to get back together with you. Ever."
Anger simmered in the eyes that she'd once looked to for approval. For what she'd thought was love. But he quickly banked it as he tried to give her a caring look. "I remember the way you cried when you found out about my wife. You can't have gotten over me that quickly."
"I cried because I was ashamed of what I'd done." How could he still not see that?
"Oh, baby, you weren't to blame for anything. Dating you on the side was the only way we could be together. But now we won't have to hide our love from anyone."
He was reaching for her again, but before he could touch her, she backed even farther away. Liam had been right about one thing--coming here to try to talk some sense into Mark had been a mistake.
"I don't love you. How could I, when you don't know what love really means?" The wind whipped up around them, and she pulled her coat more tightly around her.
"And you think you do?" Now that he knew he'd struck out with her once and for all, his laugh was harsh. And pitying. "Do you really think there's a man out there who is ever going to be able to live up to your fairy tale?"
She wished with all her heart that she'd never met him, never wasted two years of her life with him. "There's a big difference between lying about every single thing for two years and wanting a fairy tale." With the wind whipping her hair and clothes around her on the public dock, she let the anger drain away. The man standing before her simply wasn't worth it. "Good-bye, Mark. Good luck with your marriage."
*
Liam kept his eyes trained on Mark until he got into his car and sped away too fast on Summer Lake's icy roads. The whole time Christie had been out there with that scumbag, Liam hadn't been able to breathe properly.
He didn't realize his mother had come into the inn and was standing beside him, following his line of vision out the window, until she said, "Is everything all right, honey?"
Hell no, everything wasn't all right. He was thinking far too much, far too often, about Christie. Wanting her far t
oo much, far too often.
"I was just thinking about the inn's staff," was an honest, if incomplete, answer.
He moved away from the window, and she walked with him over to the registration desk. Only a coward would pray for a guest to walk in asking for help right now. And, unfortunately, only a lucky coward would see that prayer answered.
"About what happened over at the house yesterday," she said. "You shouldn't have had to see your father and me behave like that. Henry is a little tense lately. But he really appreciated your help moving the heavy furniture out of the room."
Not wanting to get anywhere near the middle of their relationship, he said, "Glad I could help," and then, "How's his business going?"
"Good. More and more people are moving here from the city who want to build or remodel, although he's increasingly picky about which projects he'll take on."
"And your graphic design clients?"
"I'm still working for about as many as I did when you lived at home." She looked a little nervous. "Speaking of home, we were hoping you could come to dinner tonight. It's been so long since your father and I got to spend some quality time with you. We don't know anything about your life. How your job is going. If you're dating anyone."
"Sorry," he immediately said, "I need to work the desk tonight." A smart man wouldn't have let her crestfallen expression crawl beneath his armor. But ever since coming back to Summer Lake, Liam had been anything but smart, hadn't he? "Tomorrow night might work, though."
His mother's smile was so bright, so big, it completely transformed her face. And despite himself, Liam felt a part of his heart soften.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The minute Christie walked into Lakeside Stitch and Knit, she breathed a sigh of relief. She desperately needed a refuge for a little while from the emotions swirling around inside of her. She was a late convert to knitting, but found it wonderfully calming.
Denise Bartow, Sarah's mother, was busy helping a customer, and as Christie ran her fingers down a display of soft yarn, she was glad for the chance to focus on something other than the Kane brothers.
Although the real truth was that Liam was the only Kane brother she was focusing on at the moment...
Lost in her forbidden desires, she accidentally knocked into a display. She was scrambling to catch the cashmere skeins before they hit the floor when Denise rushed over to help.
"Sorry." Christie picked up a stray ball that had rolled across the wood-plank floor. "I'm afraid I wasn't paying enough attention." Because she couldn't stop thinking about a man she shouldn't be thinking about at all.
Denise waved away her apology. "Sarah always tells me I try to fit too much in a small space. And she's right. But I love all the yarns so much I can't stand to keep them in boxes in the back."
Christie adored Sarah's mother. Denise's open smile made her long for her own mother, for the warmth of arms that had held her since she was a baby. And yet, hadn't she just told her mom not to come visit for a while?
The problem was, Christie's mother saw everything. With five daughters, she had to. And Christie didn't want her to see how close to the edge of disaster she was. She promised herself that as soon as she'd turned everything around--when the Tapping of the Maples Festival went off without a hitch, when Wesley finally returned, when Liam left the inn on another exotic trip to the other side of the world--she would invite her mother and father and sisters and their husbands for a wonderful Summer Lake weekend.
"We just got in the most wonderful new pattern book," Denise said, drawing her attention to the photographs and patterns in a coffee-table-sized book. "Look at these."
Christie's eyes widened at the knitted lingerie, beautifully soft nightgowns--even super-sexy bra and panty patterns that made her blush.
"I'd love to knit up something from the book as a sample," Denise said, "but with Sarah away on her honeymoon, I'm backlogged enough as it is."
"I'll do it." The offer was out of Christie's mouth before she realized it.
"Would you really?" Denise looked positively gleeful at the prospect of some knitting help. "I just know this book will fly off the shelves if people can see the designs brought to life."
"The thing is, I--" Christie was unable to get the words out--how she was already overloaded and shouldn't have made such an offer. Denise had been so kind since day one. How could she let her down on one small favor? "I was looking for a new project anyway," she finally said. And it was true. She just hadn't planned to start something new while she had so much else going on. "I left my wallet at the inn, so I'll come back tomorrow with the money for the yarn and pattern book."
"Oh no, you're helping me out. Of course everything is on the house." This was exactly why Christie loved Summer Lake so much. She'd known Denise less than a year, but she was treated like family anyway. Somehow, she'd find the time to knit a sample for the store. "Why don't you have a seat while we wait for everyone else to get here? You can thumb through the book to decide which pattern you might like to tackle. Although," Denise said, flipping through to a picture of a knitted slip that was both sexy and sweet at the same time, "this is the one I keep going back to."
"It's beautiful," Christie murmured. She could easily see herself wearing it, could feel the softness of the yarn as it skimmed over her curves like a second skin.
Denise clapped her hands. "Great! I'll get you everything you need."
While Denise gathered the proper gauge needles and yarn for her, Christie set out wine glasses for the knitting group members. Women were coming in now, one and two at a time. Ten minutes of small talk later, most of the regulars had arrived.
Christie was glad to see them all, but made it a point to sit next to Jean, Wesley and Liam's grandmother. She usually went by her cottage once a week for tea, but she'd been so busy since Wesley's disappearance that she'd neglected something they both enjoyed.
"I'm sorry I haven't been over to see you more in the past few weeks," she said as she cast on her new project.
"Cashmere," Jean said softly as she reached across to stroke Christie's new yarn between her thumb and forefinger. "My favorite."
Christie knew that conversations with Jean didn't always go in a straight line. Some people found the gray-haired woman a bit eccentric because of this, but it was one of the many things that drew Christie to her. As far as she could tell, Jean lived her life according to her own rules and no one else's. After all, look at the construction business she'd built up and passed on to her son, who also worked closely with William Sullivan. For a woman who'd started her career back in the forties, Jean's business success was nothing short of extraordinary.
"I'm knitting up a sample from this book for the store," Christie told her.
Jean's eyes went from the book to Christie, and her eyes filled with a sudden gleam. "Yes. That should work out just right."
Hmm. Nothing should have been strange about that. And yet, it kind of was. "Could I ask you something, Jean? The old ghost stories about the inn...when did they start being told?"
"You've felt something, haven't you?"
Christie didn't want to come across like a crazy person, so she began her answer by saying, "I'm sure it's nothing, but my new bedroom in the old honeymoon suite is so cold sometimes, even when the other rooms are perfectly warm. And a couple of times, I could have sworn there was something else, some kind of energy in the room with me." She shook her head at her own foolishness. "Listen to me. Telling you I think my bedroom might be haunted." She smiled at the woman beside her. "Clearly, I've been working too hard."
But Jean didn't smile back. Instead, the hint of loss, of sorrow that Christie had always felt was hiding behind her green eyes, rose to the surface.
"I knew this would happen," Jean said. "I told Wesley not to refinish that room. There's a reason it was closed off for sixty years."
"Wesley never said anything to me about potential problems with it." Then again, there were plenty of things her friend hadn't talked to her abo
ut, weren't there?
Christie was just about to ask Jean what had happened sixty years ago, when Suzanne Sullivan burst through the door.
"Sorry I'm late! Roman had to throw a couple of balls of yarn at me to even make me look up from my computer screen."
"How is that hunky bodyguard of yours?" Helen wanted to know.
The other women nodded, all obviously interested in living vicariously through the beautiful computer genius. No doubt about it, Roman Huson was quite a man. Big. Strong. Gorgeous. And head over heels in love with Suzanne.
Since she and Suzanne had become friends over the past months, Christie had learned firsthand that although Suzanne and Roman were perfect together, it hadn't always been easy for them. Especially considering that Suzanne's brothers had hired Roman to be her bodyguard, even though they knew she didn't want one. From what Suzanne had told her, despite their unorthodox beginning, their growing love had been both undeniable and irresistible.
Christie smiled thinking about how grumpy Suzanne's oldest brother, Alec, could still be about his sister's new boyfriend. As far as Alec was concerned, no one was good enough for Suzanne. Thankfully, he was coming around to the idea that she had found real love with Roman--a man who had been Alec's trusted friend for years.
"Roman's good," Suzanne said with a blush as she took an open seat on the other side of Christie, then pulled her yarns and needles out of her bag.
Christie was glad to see her friend looking so happy. And yet her chest clenched, the way it had when she was with Sarah before her wedding. It wasn't jealousy, she swore it wasn't. She didn't need her own love in order to be happy that her friends had found theirs.
Suzanne broke into Christie's thoughts as she turned to her and said, "I want to knit Roman a sweater." She pointed to a pattern for an Aran sweater. "What do you think of this one? Am I out of my mind for even thinking of tackling it?"
"I'm no expert," Christie said, "but I honestly don't think you'll have any trouble with it." Suzanne had only just recently learned to knit, but with her brilliant computer brain on task, she'd picked it up with remarkable speed.
"Oh good. Because I can already picture Roman wearing it...and then me having the pleasure of stripping it off him."