by Marie Force
Owen ached as he pictured nine-year-old Laura coming to terms with her mother’s death.
“It was a tough time for all of us, but she was a little better after the summer on the island.”
“I’m glad you told me this. It makes me feel better to know that she’s doing what she needs to do to get through this. I wish she wasn’t shutting me out, though.”
“Be patient. When she’s ready, she’ll let you back in.”
“I can do that.”
“Will you call me if you need me? If she needs me?”
“Of course.”
“In the meantime, I’ll do what I can to dispose of him.”
Owen released an unsteady chuckle. “Legally, I presume.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“It was really great to meet you, sir. Laura talks about you so fondly.”
“That’s nice to hear, but please call me Frank. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
“I sure hope so.”
Owen ended the call and forced himself to give her another half hour before he couldn’t stay away any longer. He let himself into the room, which was dark and quiet. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he saw her curled up on the bed.
“Laura?” he said in a whisper.
When she didn’t reply, he hoped it was because she was asleep. He pulled the throw blanket from the foot of the bed and spread it over her. Feeling weary but wired at the same time, he took a shower and shaved. Then he stretched out on the bed next to her, wanting to be nearby if she needed him during the night.
It took him a long time to fall asleep.
Chapter 14
Carolina knew it was probably wrong to be so fascinated by a much younger man. But listening to Seamus tell her about his childhood in Ireland, his parents, the brothers he’d caused such mischief with and the grandmother who’d done her best to set him straight, she was utterly captivated.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m going on and on, and you’re probably bored stiff.”
“On the contrary. I love to listen to your stories. And that brogue…” She fanned herself. “Lovely.”
His entire face flushed with heat, and he became very interested in watching the flames dance in the fireplace.
“What’re you thinking about?”
He shook his head, letting her know he didn’t want to say.
“Now, you’re going to hold out on me? After I heard about the frog you put in the nun’s habit? What could be worse than that?”
He let out an inarticulate grunt, got up, gathered their dishes and headed for the kitchen.
Perplexed, Carolina went to help with the dishes.
“That’s okay,” he said when she headed for the sink. “I’ve got it.”
“Let me help.”
“I said I’ve got it.”
Surprised by his sharp tone, she took a step back and put up her hands in surrender. “Sorry.”
“No, Jesus, I’m sorry. I, uh…” He looked positively dumbfounded.
Confused, Carolina moved toward him, drawn by an attraction stronger than she’d experienced in a very long time.
“Please, don’t,” he said, stopping her progression with a pleading look.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“God, no,” he said with an ironic laugh. “It’s not you. It’s me.”
Her brows knitted with consternation. She’d never seen him so undone. He was usually all cool confidence and cocky charm. “What is?”
“You…” He swallowed hard. “You’re beautiful.”
Of all the things she’d expected him to say, that hadn’t been one of them. Her entire body heated as the realization registered. He was interested in her. As a woman. Oh my…“Thank you,” she was finally able to say. “That’s very sweet of you to say.”
“’Tis the truth,” he said, pulling up the sleeves of his shirt to do the dishes. He seemed almost angry as he washed and rinsed the bowls and silverware, banging around the kitchen with barely contained energy vibrating off his muscular frame.
“Seamus.”
He spun around, seeming almost surprised to see her still standing there. “Yes?”
“Come here.”
“No, thank you. I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
She held out a hand to him. “Please?”
He eyed her hand as if it was a stick of dynamite before he reluctantly reached out to fold his hand around hers.
Carolina had no idea what she was doing when she led him into the living room and urged him to join her on the love seat in front of the fire. Without releasing his hand, she compelled him to meet her gaze. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”
He released a sound that fell somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “You’re the last person I can talk to about this. No, wait, that’s not true. Joe would be the last person I could talk to about this. In fact, if he knew the thoughts I’ve been having about his dear, sweet mum, he’d cut me up and feed me to the sharks.”
Carolina’s mouth fell open. She quickly closed it and tried to process what he’d said. “You’ve been having…thoughts… About me?”
Looking sheepish and maybe ashamed, he gave a brief nod.
“For how long?”
“How long ago did we first meet?”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’d never joke about something like this,” he said, clearly offended by the insinuation.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you were joking. I’m surprised. That’s all.”
He tried to tug his hand free, but she wouldn’t let go. “Let’s forget about it,” he said. “I never planned to say anything about it.”
“Why not?”
Staring at her as if she were crazy, he said, “Because! For one thing, your son would kill me. I like my life—and my job. He trusted me to run his company, and I take that very seriously. He shouldn’t have to be worried about his employee having impure thoughts about his mother.”
The more agitated he got, the thicker his brogue became. He was sexy as hell, and she wanted him more than she’d wanted any man since she lost her husband. Right in that moment, it didn’t matter that he was eighteen years younger than her or that he worked for her son. For once, she wasn’t thinking of Joe or anyone other than the sweet, sexy man sitting beside her.
“Well, say something already,” he said with a huff that nearly made her laugh.
Rather than speak, she caressed his face.
He sucked in a sharp, deep breath and tried to turn his face away. “Miz Cantrell…”
“I think,” she said as she dragged her fingers lightly along his whisker-roughened jaw, “that you should probably call me Carolina, or I’ll feel like a dirty old woman.”
“No. I couldn’t.” He took hold of her wandering hand. “This can’t happen.”
“Why?”
“Joe would—”
“Joe is my son, and I love him dearly, but I don’t need his approval.”
“I do. He’s given me a wonderful opportunity, and I wouldn’t do anything to disappoint him.”
It was a matter of honor to him, she realized, and how could she not respect that? “Of course,” she said, withdrawing her hand. “I apologize.”
“That’s it?” he asked with a glint of devil in his eye and a healthy dose of disappointment. “You’re giving up, just like that?”
Carolina stared at him, uncertain of what he meant. “But you said—”
“Don’t listen to me. I’m full of blarney. Everyone knows it.”
“You’re confusing me.”
“Am I? Let me be clear then: You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met, and I’ve wanted you fiercely since the first time I laid eyes on you.” He framed her face with his hands and brushed a light kiss over her suddenly sensitive lips. “You’ll tell him I tried to be upstanding, won’t you?”
Astounded and aroused and amused and filled with anticipation, Carolina managed a n
od. “I’ll tell him you didn’t stand a chance against his cougar mother.”
That made Seamus laugh—hard. His green eyes were still dancing with amusement when he kissed her again, with much more intent this time. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispered against her lips. “I’ve imagined it so many times.”
“I didn’t know. You never said…”
He focused his attention on her neck, sending a torrent of sensation zipping through her. “I tried to resist. I swear I did.”
Before she knew what was happening he had them off the small sofa and was stretched out over her on the floor. The firelight cast a warm, cozy glow over them as they devoured each other with hungry eyes.
“Has there been anyone else?” he asked.
Carolina knew he meant since her husband. She shook her head. “Occasional dates, but no one I cared enough about to sleep with.”
“Ah, my poor lass,” he whispered as he kissed her again. “It’s been such a long, lonely time for you. I have no right to want you the way I do.”
“Why do you say that?”
“My thoughts about you are downright indecent.”
Ridiculously flattered, Carolina linked her hands around his neck. “Is that so?”
Nodding, he lowered his head for another soft, seductive kiss.
“Seamus?”
“Hmmm?” He was sprinkling kisses on her face with immaculate attention to detail.
“If we do…this…”
That drew a chuckle from him.
“I want you to know…”
“What, love?”
“It can’t be anything more.”
He stopped short and stared down at her, his eyes heated and intense. “Why do you say that?”
“You’re so young,” she said, sliding her hands over his shoulders. “Your whole life is in front of you. You’ll want a family and children—”
He stopped her with another kiss, this one deep and hot. “Don’t tell me what I want,” he said softly but firmly. “I’m a grown man who knows himself as well as it’s possible to know oneself.”
Surprised by the kiss as much as what he’d said, she fumbled to find the words.
Before she could say anything, though, he was kissing her neck and she was squirming beneath him, needing more. Much, much more.
“And what I want,” he said, the sweep of his breath on her sensitive skin causing goose bumps to erupt on her arms and legs, “what I’ve wanted since the first time I saw you, is this.” He settled between her legs, pushing the hard column of his substantial erection into her heated core.
Carolina gasped and arched into him.
Suddenly, he stopped, pulled away from her and stood. He extended his hand to help her up. “There’s a nice, soft bed in the other room. Will you come with me, lovely Carolina?”
She stared at that outstretched hand as all the many reasons this might be a very bad idea fled from her mind. Linking her fingers with his, she let him lead her from the room. When he took her past her son’s bedroom and into the guest room, the gesture had Carolina realizing with crystal clarity that she could very easily fall in love with this kind, thoughtful, charming, sexy Irishman—and that would probably be a disaster for both of them.
Evan woke to relentless banging on the door. Grace was long gone to work, and he was in no rush to get up, so he snuggled in deeper to the pillow, hoping whoever it was would take the hint and go away.
More pounding. “I know you’re in there, boy. Open up!”
Ned? What the hell?
Evan dragged himself out of bed, pulled on a pair of boxers and ran his fingers through his unruly hair as he made his way to the door and tugged it open to face his father’s best friend.
Ned scowled at him. “Waddaya doin’ still in bed at ten o’clock?” He wore a ratty old sweater over faded jeans and boat shoes held together with duct tape. To look at him, you’d never know he was one of the wealthiest men on the island. His mane of white hair had been somewhat tamed, and his blue eyes were sharp as he took in Evan’s disheveled appearance.
“I was up late last night.” Evan decided it was better not to think about what he’d been doing with Grace until the wee hours, or he might embarrass himself. “What’re you doing here?”
“I wanna talk to ya.” Carrying a tray with two cups of coffee and a white bag, Ned pushed past him into the loft. “Put some pants on, fer Christ’s sake.”
“Come in, why doncha?” Evan said, annoyed and amused at the same time.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
Evan closed the door, reached for a pair of discarded jeans on the floor and put them on, leaving the button undone. He gratefully accepted the coffee Ned handed him and took a sip. “Mmm, that’s good.”
“Cream and two sugars, right?”
“You got it.” His stomach growled. “What’s in the bag?”
“Blueberry muffins. I sure do miss my marina donuts in the off-season.”
“I’m sure your heart doesn’t miss them.”
“My heart is in perfect working order.”
“Is that Francine’s doing?” Evan asked with a grin.
Ned blushed like a schoolboy. “That ain’t none a yer damned business.”
Evan hooted with laughter at Ned’s embarrassment. “When are you two going to make it official?”
At that, Ned’s expression darkened. “We can’t get rid of her dirtbag ex-husband. He’s demanding to spend time with the girls. Tiffany did it, but Maddie ain’t up fer it, and we got no intention of forcing her. Far as we’re concerned, it’s already official.”
“Sorry to hear that about the ex. He sounds like a real winner.”
“Don’t get me started.”
Evan broke the top off the still-warm muffin and devoured it in two big bites. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
“I got a business proposition fer ya.”
“Is that right?”
“Yep. I’m gettin’ sick of watchin’ ya mope around waitin’ fer news from Nashville.”
Evan sat up straighter. “Now, wait a second—”
“Hear me out, boy,” Ned said in a gentler tone. “It’s hard on all of us watchin’ ya suffer. Yer mama and daddy are worried aboutcha, yer brothers, Grace.”
“I don’t want anyone worried about me,” Evan said, losing interest in the muffin.
“Too late.” Ned put down his coffee and leaned in, elbows propped on knees. “Here’s what I think we oughta do about it. I think we oughta open our own recording studio right here on the island.”
Flabbergasted, Evan stared at the older man who’d been like a second father to him. “You wanna run that by me one more time?”
“You and Owen, ya know a lotta people in the business, people like the two of ya who’ve been performing for years but never caught a break. I’ve been readin’ about a coupla singers who got real lucky posting their stuff to that iMusic and You Movie and found an audience.”
Evan held back a laugh as Ned butchered the names of the sites.
“So I gets to thinkin’, why can’t the boys do that right here? We set up the studio, you guys bring in the talent, record yer own stuff and post it out there fer people ta buy.”
Evan continued to stare at the older man as if he’d lost his mind. “Do you have any idea how much it costs to set up a recording studio?”
“About two hundred fifty grand or so, if my research is correct.”
“And where do you propose I get two hundred fifty grand to open this so-called recording studio?”
“I’ll give it to ya.”
“What? Have you totally lost what’s left of your mind? You can’t give me a quarter of a million bucks like it’s lunch money.”
“Why not? Yer gonna get it after I’m gone, so why can’t I give it to ya now, when ya need some direction in yer life, and I can watcha make somethin’ of it?”
“Get it when you’re gone? What does that mean?”
“Who do
ya think my heirs are, ya nitwit? I ain’t got no kids of my own. So you, yer brothers, yer sister and now Francine, Maddie and Tiffany will get it all. And there’s a lot to get.” He shrugged self-consciously. “This is somethin’ I wanna do. It’s somethin’ I think you and Owen can make a go of. It’d keep ya here on the island with yer lady—where I think ya wanna be—and it would keep ya off the stage, where ya don’t wanna be.”
Evan had no idea what to say. How did Ned have this all figured out when Evan couldn’t even get himself out of bed in the morning? And how the hell did he know about the stage fright? Evan had told only Grace about that, and she’d never repeat it. He and his siblings had long suspected the guy was psychic or something, and this was further proof. “I, um, have no idea what’s involved with recording music. I do the singing.”
“Doncha know people who do? Couldn’t ya get ’em out here to teach ya?”
Running his fingers through his hair, Evan got up to pace the small kitchen.
“Well, doncha?”
“Yeah, I suppose I do.”
“And doncha know all kinds of singers and musicians who never got a break who might be interested in tryin’ something new?”
Evan nodded as a spark of interest and excitement began to take root inside him.
“Y’all could create one of them”—Ned waved his hand as he searched for the term—“artist communities right here on the island.”
“I don’t know, Ned. You’re talking about a huge investment of time.”
“And do ya got so many better things to do at the moment?”
Hands on his hips, Evan met Ned’s challenging gaze.
“Well, do ya?”
“No.”