And Then There Was You (Serenity House Book 2)

by Molly O'Keefe

  “That’s too bad,” she said, leaning back in the grass, unconsciously mirroring his posture. “Dates are fun. All the suspense.” She smiled, thinking of Doug and their first date when his credit card had been declined. Then she realized with a sort of breathless wonder the memory didn’t hurt. There was no sting, no wild mental shelving of all things Doug.

  When had that happened?

  It had been so long since she even allowed herself to think of him, in fear of that pain.

  But, it was bittersweet to remember those heady days with Doug and awkward to be remembering them while sitting with Ian.

  But it didn’t hurt. And that was astonishing.

  Perhaps it was because she knew that what she’d had with Doug was something totally different than what was happening between her and Ian. Like apples and oranges. Or love and lust.

  She cocked her head to study Ian’s profile—so handsome and chiseled in the moonlight. It was hard to imagine him not being on a date, he’d be so good at it. So suave and charming. She could imagine him over candlelight, drinking wine, carefully flirting. She could feel the sizzle of his touch, his glance. The magnetic power of his body dressed in something classic across candlelight and white linen.

  “Why haven’t you dated?” she asked, proud when her voice didn’t crack.

  “I have made two kinds of decisions in my life. Decisions to hurt my father and decisions to not be like my father.”

  “Where does not dating fall?”

  “Nice girls date, Jennifer. And nice girls want husbands and babies. And private lives and husbands who aren’t—” He stopped, sighed. “Angry most of the time. The girls I’m with don’t care.”

  “You don’t want a wife and children?”

  He opened his mouth as if to answer then stopped. And was silent.

  Oh. Oh, Ian. She couldn’t stop herself, she was about to reach for his back, that wide muscled expanse hidden behind cotton.

  Career. Story. Waldo.

  Reality was a wall between them and she could not touch him, because she knew, in her bones, in the throbbing pain in her chest and fingers, what would happen if she did.

  That dark knowledge was back in his eyes, his lip curled slightly and she couldn’t pull in a deep breath. He knew what she wanted and what she fought against.

  And worse, those things she wanted, those dark carnal things that she suddenly longed for with her whole body, he wanted, too. She could see it in his eyes, the sharp lines on his face. The way his breath came fast in his chest.

  He put his hand over hers, sending sharp zings of desire through her nerves. Just a touch, one touch on her hand, and she couldn’t help but imagine that touch on her face. Her lips. Breasts. Between her legs.

  Oh, God. Could she die from this? From wanting this much?

  “I thought we couldn’t do this?” he whispered, seduction in his voice, taunting her. Teasing her. “You told me this morning this was against the rules.”

  “It is,” she told him, glad her voice was strong and steady, and she pulled her hand away.

  “Ah, but you wish it wasn’t,” he said, so sure of himself that a spark of anger ignited in the middle of all that heat churning through her body.

  “Not everything is about sex,” she said. “It can be about friendship. Comfort, Ian.”

  “Don’t lie,” he whispered. “Not about this. If you want to touch me, be honest.”

  “I think you need to be touched,” she said and she could tell she’d surprised him. She’d surprised herself. He pulled away. Oh, lord, this was so awkward. So unreal. What was she doing in this situation? She didn’t even know the right vocabulary. “I think you need to be comforted.”

  “You’re being a bit melodramatic.”

  “Your father was an abuser, your mother sent you away, the women you’re with don’t care. I think—”

  “Stop, Jennifer,” he said, shaking his head, all that dark seduction he put on like a suit, gone. “You’re making me into something I’m not.”

  This man was not what he seemed. He was better than she even dreamed and the real kicker was that he was so much better than he thought he was.

  “That’s part of the story, Ian,” she told him, her hands securely in her lap. “The whole world is going to find out that you’re not nearly as bad as you pretend to be.”

  “I’m still the same man,” he said. “These things I’ve told you, that stuff with Madison…it doesn’t change who I am. You don’t want me as a friend, Jennifer.”

  “You don’t get to decide that,” she said, stunned that he would think that after all that had happened between them. They were friends, at the very least. Weren’t they? “I do.”

  He stood so fast she could only gape at him.

  “The story is what’s important, Jennifer. It’s all that matters,” he said, his eyes touching on all of her features, a soft sweet touch, a lingering goodbye. “I’m not important. I never have been.”

  13

  Ian woke up to the sound of someone pounding on a door. He lurched upright, slipping and nearly falling off the couch onto the floor. Something wet brushed his ear and he found himself face-to-tongue with Daisy.

  He jerked back, expecting to have his face bitten off.

  Daisy followed, jumped up on the couch with her front paws and slobbered all over him. A tongue bath of doggy love.

  Apparently she’d had a change of heart regarding her affections toward him during the night.

  The door-knocking came again and he shoved Daisy out of the way. Through the open door of the bedroom Ian watched Andille roll over and open one eye.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Someone’s here,” he said and the dog, sitting alertly beside him, barked once as if seconding him.

  “I thought that dog hated you,” Andille said.

  “It’s momentary, I’m sure.”

  The rumble of voices filtered from downstairs and Andille sighed as if to stand. Ian stopped him. “It’s probably Madison and Angelina’s father,” he said. “I’ll go check.”

  Andille smiled wearily. “Two days ago we were sure we had to leave and today we’re making sure everyone is okay. This place has a strange effect on people.”

  “Probably a good indication that we should have gone with our first instinct,” Ian said, scrubbing his hands over his face. Strange that he truly did want to see Madison off, that he thought it was important. Two days ago the thought wouldn’t have even entered his mind.

  But he stood, tugged on his jeans and a shirt. His cell phone on the table started to ring, rattling against the table. Both Ian and Andille turned to stare at it.

  “You gonna get that?” Andille asked.

  Ian shook his head, clenched his fists against the urge to hurl the phone against the wall.

  “He’s been calling a lot more.”

  “I need to get a new number,” he said and headed for the door, the dog beside him.

  He found everyone in the common room. Angelina was happily held in a man’s arms. A man with a bandage on his forehead and a doozy of a black eye.

  The abused father wasn’t what Ian expected. The man was big, strong-looking, like a former athlete. He was handsome, despite the bandages, and certainly didn’t look like a man who got knocked around by his one-hundred-and-ten-pound wife.

  When he saw Ian he did a quick double take. Ian was familiar with that brief, slack-jawed look—the dude recognized him. And Ian wished he’d never come down here.

  But there was a certain tension in the room, something explosive. Ian looked to Jennifer for some explanation of what everyone was so nervous about. Before he could make eye contact with her Madison was across the room and attached to his leg like a leech.

  “I don’t want to go!” she cried into his jeans and Ian saw Madison’s father go even more pale.

  “Hey,” Ian said, crouching down to remove Madison’s tourniquet-strength arms from around his leg. “Madison, you get to go home. You get to sleep
in your own bed. Yesterday morning you said that was all you wanted. Remember?”

  She stared across the room at her father. “I don’t want to go with him,” she said.

  Her father groaned and approached her from across the room, looking more pained than any man should. “Sweetie, your mom is gone.” He glanced at Deb as if checking his script. “She’s getting help,” he said. “And she won’t be back for a long time.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she said, sharp-eyed.

  Ian caught Jennifer’s eye and saw, unbelievably, that she thought he could handle this. That he would. That somehow Ian had the answer to this terrible situation in his back pocket.

  Which was crazy because all he had in his back pocket was a law degree and a ton of cash. Neither of which would do any good.

  “I swear to you,” Madison’s father breathed, looking so damn earnest Ian believed him. “Mom is not welcome in our home right now.”

  He could tell Madison wanted to believe her father, and who wouldn’t. But she was stubborn and smart and had spent who knows how many years being disappointed by her parents.

  “Tell you what,” Ian said. “I believe your dad.” Madison shot him a dubious look. “But I’ll make you a deal. If your mom comes back, you can come spend the night here.”

  He had no clue if that was the right thing to say, but Madison looked cheered. “I can?” she asked and Ian looked to her father, who nodded gratefully.

  “Absolutely,” he agreed empathically. There was a long pause and Madison finally nodded and Ian exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. There had been no Plan B, there was hardly a Plan A, but it seemed like everyone expected him to have an answer right now.

  “Go get your things, sweetie,” Madison’s father said and both Madison and Angelina took off for Deb, who stood in the kitchen, with their backpacks.

  “Thank you—” her father started to say and held out a hand to Ian, but Ian shook his head, forgoing the handshake in order to look the man right in the eyes.

  “You better mean it,” Ian said with far more anger than he thought he felt. But suddenly there it was. This guy was not his mother, not even close, considering his mother had never made such a promise. She’d sent him away instead. But Madison’s father was here and Ian’s mother was dead and the world just didn’t get it right sometimes. “That girl feels betrayed by you. She feels like you chose her abusive, mean mother over her time and time again and a kid doesn’t just forget that.”

  Ian hadn’t intended to make the guy feel worse, but he could tell he had, and he reined in his sudden temper.

  “I didn’t want to lose my family,” the guy whispered. “I thought I could make it work.”

  “Well, you’ve got another chance to make what’s left of your family work,” Ian said and the guy nodded, tears flooding his red-rimmed eyes.

  Oh, for crying out loud, Ian thought, clapping his hand on the man’s shoulder, like they did in movies when men had heart-to-hearts. “Your daughter loves you,” he said. Madison’s father nodded, sniffing back emotion. “Don’t mess it up and you’ll do fine.”

  The guy seemed to buy his half-assed platitudes.

  My work here is more than done, Ian thought, his skin feeling too tight. I gotta get going. Andille was right, this place had a weird effect on people.

  He turned and caught Jennifer staring at him and the look in her eye, like she was proud or impressed, seemed ridiculous. This whole thing seemed ridiculous.

  Ian Greer went out with models who didn’t wear underwear. He didn’t counsel abused men about how to handle their children. It wasn’t in his skill set.

  “I need to do some work,” he told her, thinking of why he’d been called to Serenity in the first place.

  “This afternoon, I was hoping we could talk,” she said, touching his arm as he passed her.

  “About the story?” he asked sharply and she stiffened, her surprise at his tone evident.

  I told you, he wanted to say. I told you I’m not who you think I am.

  “Of course about the story,” she said.

  “Fine,” he said, stepping away from the heat of her touch, that no matter how much distance he put between them he could still feel.

  He could still almost feel her touch from last night, the smooth slide of her palm that, had things been different between them, he would have felt against his back. And who knows where else.

  Comfort! Ha! The woman wanted in his pants so bad she was lying to herself.

  And what about you? a little voice asked. You want in her pants so bad you’re playing the benevolent counselor. The child of an abuser who has got it all figured out.

  It was all too complicated. He liked his life simple. Annoying and embarrassing his father had kept him occupied and busy for years. Far too busy to think about good women and hurt children and fathers with their backs against a wall.

  Wanting revenge kept him away from anything messy. Anything complicated.

  And now he was at Serenity and it was as if his life had just exploded. He was covered in mess.

  “Suzette’s journals arrived this morning and I’m going through them,” she said, all businesslike.

  Part of him wanted to take back his harsh words from moments ago. He liked her compassion, the warmth and pride in her eyes. He liked her in the moonlight, pale and earnest, seeming so strong and fragile at the same time.

  Friends, he thought. It seemed unlikely.

  “I’ll be available whenever you need me,” he said as apologetically as he could under the circumstances. And, before he found himself volunteering for babysitting or picking up litter or something else totally unlike him, he left.

  The dumb dog following him in his wake.

  An hour later, the phone tucked into Ian’s pocket started to ring. Ian swore and pulled it out.

  Dad. Again.

  “I thought you were going to change the number?” Andille asked from his “office” at the folding table in the upstairs apartment.

  “I’ve been too busy saving the world, Andille,” he joked and turned the phone off. Part of him wanted to answer the phone, swear at the old man, like the old days, tell him in explicit detail how Jackson Greer’s days were numbered.

  But he couldn’t jeopardize the story that way. Couldn’t jeopardize Jennifer that way.

  And it was truly shocking to put the vengeful instinct aside. To be able to put it aside, because two weeks ago the temptation would have been too great.

  He supposed he had Jennifer to thank for that. Jennifer, whom he just jumped on with both feet for simply doing her job.

  Yeah, he thought sarcastically, you’ve come a long way, baby.

  He tossed the phone onto the floor.

  “What’s the plan with the lawsuit?” Andille asked.

  “Settle,” he said. It’s what he always did. The keyboard of his laptop clacked under his fingers as he e-mailed the paralegal he worked with on these cases. She was discreet, quick and the single mother of two kids who’d grown up in a shelter not unlike Serenity.

  “With a mob wife?” Andille asked, looking up from his own laptop, where he was sorting out Serenity’s financial woes. “She’s fishing, Ian. It’s not even a—”

  “You know I’m not going to court,” Ian said, laughing at the very idea. “Representing Serenity is hardly what a guy like me would do. I’ve got an image to maintain.”

  “Ian.” Andille sighed and sat back. “Once this story breaks you won’t have to pretend anymore. You can just be you. Do what you want.” Andille scowled and turned back to his computer. “Should be a relief,” he added.

  Ian stared blankly at his oldest friend. He fought the urge to ask Andille who he thought Ian was, because he had no clue. For more years than he wanted to count he was the guy who dressed well and showed up at the right parties with the right women. He made not particularly funny jokes that everyone laughed at. He pretended and lied and had no idea what to do if he weren’t doing that.<
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  “Won’t it?” Andille asked. “I mean, what would you do with this lawsuit if you didn’t have to worry about your image?”

  What would I do? Ian wondered. Ian Greer? He thought of the thousands of dollars he gave away to overreaching scumbags and abusers just so he could keep things quiet, under the rug. He thought of who he’d been in law school, the things he’d wanted to change, the people he wanted to give a voice to.

  Most of the time, that person, the idealistic student he’d been, seemed like someone else. A different man. A foolish guy with big plans who had no idea how cruel the world could be. How those big plans could get squashed.

  Idealistic didn’t even begin to cover it.

  But then, this thing with his dad started. Ian got caught coming out of a bar one night by some paparazzi and the next morning his father called, furious, throwing demands around like he had the right.

  And Ian had realized how he could get back at his father for those long years of abuse.

  And that idealistic guy got pushed out of the way. Forgotten.

  Ian wasn’t sure if he would ever be that idealistic again, but he could do the right thing. In the bright light of day he would do the right thing.

  Grinning, he deleted the e-mail to his paralegal and began to draft another one.

  Jennifer closed Suzette’s last journal and sat back in the office chair.

  Ho. Ly. Cow.

  Lifting the first journal from the FedEx box that had arrived at dawn this morning, Jennifer had no clue what she was in for. That journal began on the first day Suzette, as a young assistant to the wife of a new governor, noticed something wrong. Something wrong by way of a split lip on the pretty new first lady of North Carolina, which coincided with Ian’s arrival from the hospital. Reading about it was like taking that first breath-stealing plunge from the high dive into cold water.

  And it didn’t stop.

  Ten years. Ten journals. Dates. Photos. Everything. It was an insider’s look at marriage gone wrong and the hard choices Annabelle Greer made every day.