Love At Last

by Claudia Connor

  “You’re welcome.”

  They talked a while longer about everything and nothing. She didn’t miss the wistful tone in Deacon’s voice when they said goodbye, and an idea began to form in her mind.

  Chapter 30

  “I CAN DO THIS,” Clare repeated to herself, pushing the double stroller toward her departure gate. “I can do this.” She’d already had second thoughts when the boys screamed halfway to the airport then again when she’d struggled to get them, the maxed-out diaper bag, and her rolling suitcase into the airport.

  She’d used a good bit of her savings to buy three seats, but it was worth it to have her hands free. And boarding the first flight with two car seats and the diaper bag slipping off her shoulder, she’d provided comic relief for the passengers she passed. If only she had a dollar for every person that mentioned she had her hands full as they smiled sympathetically and did nothing to help.

  But she’d made it and was actually thinking everything was going fairly well until Parker blew out his diaper during her layover in St. Paul.

  She had exactly twenty minutes until her next flight finally began boarding after an hour delay. I can handle a blow-out. No problem.

  She wheeled the stroller into the ladies’ room to assess the damage. One thing was for sure: Parker was not happy. She took him out of his car seat and looked around. She didn’t want to use the fold-down plastic changing table in this bathroom. Not after the article she’d read on public restroom changing tables. As if the thought of all the other bottoms lain here weren’t enough, the article reported cocaine residue found on over seventy percent of changing tables tested.

  It would be a hell of a lot easier if she could lay him flat in the stroller. Of course that would mean taking out both attached car seats. With Parker over her shoulder, she managed to get his seat out with one hand. Just as she did so, she heard and felt him fill his already-full diaper then felt the damp heat of runny baby poop seep through her shirt.

  “Poor baby,” she crooned, gritting her teeth and getting down to business. She got Parker and herself cleaned up—luckily she’d packed a spare top for herself in the diaper bag—all while Patrick’s screams bounced off the bathroom walls. It was as if he knew his brother had been rescued from the damnable straps of the car seat and was getting all the attention.

  By the time she got to her gate, her calm was slipping.

  “No, I’m sorry,” the desk agent told her. “That gate has been moved. It was announced over the intercom.”

  Like I would have heard it—or understood the garble even if I had.

  The agent tapped on her computer then gave a sad smile. “And I’m sorry, but that flight is already pushing back.”

  Clare held a still-screaming Patrick to her shoulder.

  “Let me check another flight for you.”

  “Thank you.” Clare waited, trying to appease him with a pacifier. “Hang on, baby.” She’d planned to nurse on the plane. Her cell rang, and she answered it before she thought better of it.

  “Hey,” Deacon said cheerfully.

  “Hi.” She glanced at the desk agent, still tapping away at her keyboard.

  “What’s wrong? Who’s making a fuss?”

  An announcement was made over the intercom.

  “Wait. Where are you?”

  “Well, it was supposed to be a surprise. So…surprise. I’m at the airport. On my way to you. It’s not turning out the way I planned. Weather has grounded half the flights. We had a diaper blow-out, and I missed hearing there was a gate change.”

  “Oh, honey.”

  No doubt he could hear the babies screaming. “I hope it’s okay that we’re coming. Or trying to.”

  “Are you kidding? Of course it’s okay. I might have to go in to work, but—”

  “I know. It’s fine. We’ll be there when you get home.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  So did she. The desk agent looked up, and Clare asked him to hold on while she received her sentence.

  “Deacon?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Okay. Looks like I’ll be there around six if all goes as planned. Though that would be a first for today.” She tried to laugh, surprised she even could. But Deacon was on the other end of the phone, and that bolstered her. She wasn’t alone.

  “I’ll be there to pick you up.”

  “See you soon.”

  * * *

  FEELING HAPPIER THAN HE ever remembered, Deacon drove to the airport in light flurries. His girl was coming, with his boys. They would all be together.

  He found her waiting at baggage claim, in jeans and a gray sweater. There was a spot of spit-up drying on her shoulder, and her hair fell in disarray around her face. But standing there, stepping from side to side with a squalling infant in her arms, he thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  “Hey,” he said.

  The tired smile that greeted him stopped his heart. He was in love with her. Absolutely. Completely.

  “Hi. I wanted to surprise you.”

  “Mission accomplished.” He pulled her into a kiss, claiming her right there in baggage claim. “I can’t believe you’re here.” He took the diaper bag from her shoulder and slung it over his own.

  “If you watch them, I’ll get my bag.”

  “I’ll come with you.” He pushed the stroller over to the bags just starting around the belt.

  “Where are the girls?” Clare asked after they’d loaded babies and baggage into the car.

  “My parents took them for an early dinner. We’ll probably be getting home about the same time.”

  Clare smiled. “I can’t wait to see them.”

  Deacon reached over and took her hand. “I can’t wait to see them see you.”

  He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. And under a gray sky spitting bits of snow against the windshield, he drove them home.

  * * *

  CLARE TURNED FROM THE crib and two sleeping babies and saw Deacon in the doorway.

  “Hey. My parents just texted that they’re taking the girls for ice cream.”

  “Oh.”

  He moved toward her, a sly half smile on his face. “Disappointed?”

  “A little.”

  “Guess you’ll just have to make do with me a little longer.”

  “I guess I will.” And whatever would they do to pass the time?

  He held out a hand. “Want to take a walk?”

  “Sure.”

  He hooked the baby monitor onto his belt, and they suited up in coats and hats.

  With her hand in his, their feet crunched through the fresh flakes to the frozen layer beneath. They walked to the edge of his backyard, then went a little farther into the woods that lined the back of his property and separated it from a greenbelt.

  “Oh, look. Tracks.” She pointed.

  “Deer. We see them every now and then. Maybe they’re getting used to us. An older couple lived here before. They had salt licks out for them.”

  She smiled at his handsome profile and linked her arm through his.

  “My dog, Hugh, loved the snow,” Deacon said. “He’s buried right over there.” He nodded off to their left as they continued to walk.

  “I’m sorry. You had him a long time?”

  “Ten years. He died just after the girls were born. I might have gotten another dog, eventually, but I had my hands full. Then Cat showed up at our back door when the girls were about one. They’d just started talking, thus the name, Cat.”

  They stopped under the shelter of evergreens. Tilting her head back, she looked up at branches drooping under the growing weight of white. The air was dry and crisp with cold. The snow softened the edges of everything, muted them, and being here in it muted her fears about the future.

  When Deacon wrapped his arms around her, she pressed her nose into his neck. He had the best smell, a heady, masculine scent. It felt so right to snuggle deeper.

  “Ahh. There it is,” he said
as they stood there.

  “What?”

  “Silence. I was beginning to think it was just a myth.”

  She grinned, then unable to be so close without kissing him, she stood on her toes, pressed her lips to his chin.

  “You’re cold,” he said, rubbing his nose along hers.

  “I don’t feel cold.” She felt warm and clear. His hands tenderly framed her face just before he skimmed his mouth over hers. She sighed softly and closed her eyes. It was surprising and pure as a first kiss, and she felt the fluttering deep in the pit of her stomach.

  Just take a risk, she thought. Let go, and trust what you feel.

  She was in love with him. She’d tried to hold back, but there was just no way, and she felt herself tremble with the knowledge.

  He tilted her head, deepening the kiss, and headlights swept over them as a car pulled into the drive. The girls were home. And the silence was no more.

  * * *

  IT WAS HOURS BEFORE he and Clare got another quiet moment. When they sank together onto the couch, he slipped his arm around her, sighing when she relaxed into his side. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and thought, this. This is what I want every night. The gas logs were on low, spreading light and warmth to the room. Clare’s head was nestled on his shoulder, and the scent of her hair filled his nose. He sifted his fingers through the silky strands. “Tough day?”

  “Eventful.”

  “I know I said it already, but I’m really glad you’re here.”

  Turning in the crook of his arm, she leaned in and kissed the side of his face. “Me, too.”

  “I love you,” he said, just needing to say it again. Unable not to. He felt her swift inhale.

  “Deacon.”

  “No. Shh.” He put a finger over her lips. He didn’t want her to say something she wasn’t ready to say.

  Her fingers circled his wrist, and she tugged his hand down. Her eyes shimmered with tears, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was the love of his life. He’d already known it, but it grew. Every minute, every second.

  “I missed you,” she finally said. “That’s why I’m here. Not because you sounded disappointed or because I wanted you to see the boys or because I missed the girls. I just missed you. So much.”

  Drawing a finger down the side of her face, he smiled. “That’ll do.” With his hands tenderly framing her face, he gently, almost imperceptibly, skimmed his mouth over hers. Her mouth was hot, the flavor of her so sweet he ached.

  Her slender fingers knotted in his shirt. His lips found hers again, and his mouth took hers like a starving man. Maybe he was. Within seconds, they were both breathless. Her hands slid up his chest and around to curl around his neck. He knew she wanted by the way her mouth responded to his, the throaty hum, and her delicate fingers tugging at his hair.

  One hand roamed up her thigh and around her back. He growled low in his throat when he found soft, warm skin. It was pathetic how much he needed this woman, and he didn’t even care. He tore his mouth from hers.

  “Upstairs.” He rose, taking her hand.

  They made it halfway up the steps before he stopped, capturing her mouth again. Her taste sizzled through his blood like fire. He couldn’t get enough. Knew he never would. And also knew if she didn’t feel the same, it would break him.

  His free hand stroked down her body, breast to thigh, stoking the fire between them. He wanted her just like this, desperate and quivering, right here against the wall. But that would be too quick, too fast. He pulled her up the rest of the stairs, made it to his bedroom, then closed and locked the door before moving to his bed. He’d only ever slept in it alone, although he’d dreamed of Clare so many nights.

  She stood there in the middle of his room, waiting. He went to her, slipping his arms around her back and drawing her close. She was nervous—he could see it in the tense way she held herself and the almost-brutal way she bit her lower lip. Didn’t she know how utterly beautiful she was?

  He tipped her face up, cupping it in his hands as his lips moved gently, slowly over her cheeks, her temples. He kissed her face, down her throat. “I want you so much I’m mad with it. As much as I did before. More.”

  “You haven’t seen me yet.”

  He smiled and led her to the bed. “We’re about to fix that.”

  She sucked in a breath when he ran his hands down her sides to her waist and back up.

  She was trembling. “Cold?”

  “No. I love your hands on me.”

  “Then we’re on the same page.” So did he, and when she lifted her arms to circle his neck, he tugged her sweater up and off, dropping it on the floor.

  He laid her down and came over her, backing up his words with hands and lips, easing her fears until he heard her breath quicken. He took his mouth over her, tasting warm flesh, felt the small tremors and the pulse at the base of her throat. With quick, impatient hands, she tugged at the hem of his sweater, and he stripped it over his head.

  “You take my breath,” he said, looking down at her. “I want to give you time to catch up. I do, but…” He cupped her waist, pulled her closer.

  Her fingers slid up and into his hair, pulling his mouth down to meet hers. “I think I’m caught up.”

  His hand moved slowly over her shoulder, down her chest, drawing out every touch. He wanted her right there with him, feeling only pleasure, her mind on nothing but him and the way he made her feel. And he would bind her to him.

  He unclasped her bra, baring her to him. He laved and nuzzled her throat, again taking his time. He smiled when she tugged his face to her breast. He traced the top swell with the tip of his tongue. “You’re perfect. Absolutely.”

  He palmed her breast, felt the weight, the beauty, and the miracle. He lowered his head and brushed his lips back and forth over the dark nipple reaching up for attention. He wanted to draw the hard bud into his mouth and suck, but not this time. He wanted her relaxed, wouldn’t have her going self-conscious on him.

  He slid lower, and his lips followed, over her belly until he reached the waistband of her jeans. He unhooked the button, slid the zipper down, then guided her pants down her legs. “Nice,” he said, running his hands up, calf to thigh, teasing the edges of cotton underwear.

  Her chest rose and fell with quick breaths of desire. “I don’t really wear lace. That was just a vacation thing.”

  He didn’t stop or look up. “I don’t care. I care about getting them off.” And he did.

  Then before she could draw the next breath, he pressed his hand between her legs. She was hot and wet, and everything about her drove him crazy. Face flushed and skin hot and sweet, she was passion personified.

  In the dim light, her eyes were even darker, dazed. Mouth sought mouth, hands sought and found flesh. He wanted all of her, everything. Wanted to give her everything.

  He drove her up and over the edge, watched her face tense and relax. Then he shed his jeans and tore off his boxers like they were on fire. Her legs parted for him in welcome, and he pushed inside. Slowly, ever so slowly, as she clung to his shoulders, nails biting into his skin.

  “Okay?” he asked, afraid to hurt her.

  “Yes.”

  Gazing down at her face, he felt his heart pound like hammer blows. All the need and want, all the love rushed inside him. He pressed hands, palm to palm, to hers on either side of her head then curled his fingers through hers, linking them.

  “Look at me.”

  When her eyes met his, he began to move with a gentle, tortuous roll. Rocking together, they set a sensual rhythm. It was better than before. Because it was more than before. More between them. More to come.

  He took her over the first rise, listened to her quick shallow breaths and the low moan as the orgasm pulsed through her.

  She gasped his name, reached up and drew his head down, pulling him to her, pressing herself against him. On and on, drowning in sensation until he cried out with a strangled sound, an explosion of pleasure behin
d his eyes.

  Then the world stopped, and he lost himself in Clare.

  * * *

  CLARE STOOD AT DEACON’S bedroom window, looking out at the morning light reflecting off the night’s fresh snow. With the clouds above and the snow below, the entire world appeared some shade of white. Nearly a foot of snow covered the ground below like a fluffy white comforter. It sat stacked on the seats of the swings like slabs of cake.

  She smiled dreamily, thinking of Deacon. The last thing she remembered was lying boneless on top of him while his fingers slid warm, lazy tracks up and down her back. He’d made love to her like it was the first time. So much had happened since that night at the beach, in a lot of ways it was.

  He’d said he loved her again and again, and that had just filled her up and left her raw and shaky. It made her want to weep. It made her want to hold onto him as if her life depended on it, because hadn’t every man who’d said that eventually come back and said he didn’t? Or that he loved someone else more? But Deacon wasn’t every other man.

  He came back from returning the boys to their crib and slipped his arms around her from behind. Wearing only his T-shirt and her own thick socks, she shivered and nestled back into his heat. He held her tightly, like he had all night. She covered his hands with her own, wanting him again.

  “Look at that,” she said, leaning into him. “It’s so beautiful.”

  “It is.” His quick and clever hands were already finding their way under the thin cotton of the shirt. Warm palms covered her breasts, and she sighed. “It was supposed to go well south of here. Not the first time the weather man has been wrong. I know two little girls who are going to be very happy.”

  “Mmm. And one big girl. I love the snow.”

  He slid his hands down to her hips. “I was thinking maybe we’d go out and get a Christmas tree today. A real one.”

  Smiling at the excitement in his voice, she turned in his arms to face him. “That’s a lot of snow to be going Christmas tree shopping.”