by BETH KERY
“I’m at a loss as to when I’ve given you the impression I’m anti romance. I can assure you, I’m very much on the pro side.”
She just stared for a second, her mouth slightly open. His voice had gone husky. She blinked and willed herself to look into her backyard.
“You mean that you’re on the pro side in regard to sex. I’d hardly call that romance,” she said coolly.
“Really? That’s a shame.”
She gave him a withering glance, which bounced right off him.
“I don’t consider sex to be a casual matter in the slightest,” he murmured.
“I can imagine if I did a survey of the women you’ve dated recently, they might disagree.”
Colleen’s eyes widened when he lowered his chin and brushed it against her temple. His breath felt warm near her ear. “I doubt any one of those women would tell you I was anything but completely serious and focused when it comes to that particular topic.”
“Well, I would have to be interested in order to ask one of them. Which I’m not.”
“No?”
“Not even close,” she assured him.
“Are you implying that you’re not interested in the topic in general?” he asked without missing a beat, leaning back to study her face. “Or just in regard to me?”
Colleen laughed. She couldn’t help it. He looked completely earnest, like he was asking a professor for clarification on a puzzling math problem.
“I’m just not interested,” she told him, not unkindly. When she noticed his quizzical look, she added, “It’s got nothing to do with you personally.”
“Of course not.”
“I’m serious.”
For a few seconds, they regarded each other somberly while they moved together to the music. Colleen felt an increasingly familiar feeling of wanting to move closer to him. Her misguided attraction must have outweighed wisdom somewhat, because she did indeed find herself moving a hairsbreadth closer. When she registered the smoky look that entered his eyes, she knew he’d noticed.
“You’re holding back,” he pronounced suddenly, as if he’d taken a moment to scan her mind with that brilliant brain of his and had just come to a conclusion. “You are cynical about romance, true…but it’s more than that. You do object specifically to me. What is it you don’t like about me?”
Colleen swallowed and glanced blindly at the other couples circling beneath the pumpkin-colored canopy, lanterns glowing around their moving feet. Two weeks ago, she would have had no problem whatsoever giving Eric Reyes a list of reasons why she didn’t like him. Arrogant, stubborn, know-it-all might have topped the list.
But things had changed in the past ten days. After seeing his stellar, compassionate treatment of Brendan, both in the hospital and post-discharge, in addition to spending time with him planning the engagement party, Colleen recognized that while Eric was opinionated, he was by no means unreasonable. He was intelligent and a good listener, too.
He tilted one eyebrow up at her when she didn’t speak, and Colleen found herself growing desperate for something reasonable to say. She certainly couldn’t tell him she didn’t like him because he set her off balance. Colleen was confident, given the parameters of her known world. Eric made her second-guess herself. He made her self-conscious and irritable and…worked up.
“I told you,” she said firmly. “It’s got nothing to do with you. I haven’t dated that much. Not since Darin died.”
He was quiet for a moment. “You’re young, Colleen. Not to mention extremely beautiful. Do you really plan to stay celibate forever?” She blinked and met his stare, set off guard by his solemn tone when he’d called her beautiful. One glance into those compelling eyes and she knew it hadn’t been casual flattery.
“That’s none of your concern,” she said quietly.
“I beg to differ. I’m very concerned about it.”
The music came to an end. Her heart drumming in her ears, Colleen turned and walked toward the patio doors without glancing back. Her skin tingled, as if in protest over the sudden loss of the heat and the pressure of his body.
I’m very concerned about it.
The thought of him murmuring those words caused a slight shudder to go through her. She willed herself to resume the role of hostess, smiling and chatting with guests, forcing the unsettling recollection out of her mind. The back of her neck prickled and she glanced around, only to see Eric’s eyes were on her as he, too, socialized. He smiled as he spoke—a small, secret smile. Too late, she realized she was returning the smile across her crowded family room and had completely lost track of her conversation.
“I know, I thought it was funny, too,” Gail Sossinot said, interrupting her husband Emmett’s story about a ladder that had folded up while he’d been on it doing repairs. Colleen had asked her guest about the bandage he’d been wearing on his wrist. Her cheeks turned warm.
“I’m sorry,” she said contritely. “A sprained wrist isn’t funny. I was…thinking of something else.” Colleen fumbled to apologize for her faux pas. She’d been caught engaging in some unintentional nonverbal flirtation.
It annoyed her that no matter whom she spoke to, or what the topic of conversation was, she was aware of Eric’s every move, as if he possessed some kind of magnetic pull. She doubted anyone would have guessed she was anything but a calm, engaged hostess, but Colleen knew the truth.
Her brain and body were buzzing. She was stirred up after that dance, and it was all Eric’s fault.
An hour or so later, she noticed the party was thinning out. She was satisfied with their efforts. With the exception of Tony Tejada’s bout of jealousy in regard to his ex-wife, everyone seemed to have had a great time, most importantly Natalie and Liam. Perhaps her censorious speech toward Eric while they danced had been effective, because he hadn’t tried to stir the pot in regard to the other acrimonious couple they’d invited to the party. Her friend Ellen Rappoport had settled for shooting venomous stares at her ex-husband from across the crowded room while her ex, Cody, looked contrite and uncomfortable, and made an early exit. Although Natalie had sadly commented to Colleen about the tension between Cody and Ellen, she hadn’t seemed to take the couple’s unhappiness to heart personally.
Colleen spoke with her brother Marc and her mother, took a few drink orders from the remaining guests, and headed to the kitchen.
She walked into a scene of confusion.
Mari and Natalie glanced up at the sound of her entrance. Both looked concerned. For some reason, her brother Liam was crouched on the floor next to someone who sat in one of Colleen’s kitchen chairs—Janice Tejada. She was crying energetically.
“How dare he? Tony never had the time for me and the kids when we were married, but now that the divorce is final, he has the nerve to make a scene at a party because he’s jealous?” Janice exclaimed wetly to Liam. She took one of the tissues Liam offered her and blew her nose. “I’m sorry,” she wailed. “I know I shouldn’t be going on like this at your engagement party—”
“Hey, don’t worry about that,” Liam consoled, and Natalie seconded his words. “What are friends for, if not to support each other during times like this?”
Liam glanced up at Colleen in alarm when, instead of being soothed by their consolations, Janice sobbed even harder. Colleen bustled over to the fridge and took out a can of ginger ale. She poured some of the bubbly liquid into a glass and brought it over to Janice.
“Here, drink this, Janice,” Colleen soothed. Liam looked relieved when Janice sniffed and hiccupped and took the proffered glass. He stood and moved back, seeming glad to cede his role as comforter to his sister. Colleen took his place, pulling up a chair.
She took Janice’s hand in both of her own and patted it while Janice drank her ginger ale. Janice’s crying slowly ebbed, and she looked up at Colleen, misery evident in every aspect of her expression.
“I’ll never understand men,” Janice sniffed.
Colleen nodded in agreement. “You think you
have them figured out, and then you realize that was just the first layer of wrapping paper.”
Janice gave a pressured laugh and mopped at her wet cheeks with wads of tissue. Colleen was only vaguely aware of the kitchen door swinging open. It was in her nature to focus her entire attention on someone who was in distress…to help that person through their storm. She supposed that instinct was what had first prodded her to become a counselor.
“I thought we were supposed to be the uncomplicated ones,” Liam murmured humorously from behind them.
“You are…during the first ecstatic throes of infatuation,” Colleen mused without taking her eyes off Janice. “It doesn’t take an Einstein to figure out what men want then.”
Janice gave a teary snort. “Exactly. But after a few years of marriage, and children, and night feedings, and busy schedules and hard choices and conflict…well, like Colleen said. Men turn just as convoluted and bewildering as women.”
“More so, because at least we admit we’re confused. Men insist on clinging to the myth that they’re one hundred percent rational all the time,” Mari said from behind her.
“But how can Tony rationalize acting like a caveman when he sees me dancing with another man? He gave up his right to me when he agreed to the divorce, didn’t he?” Janice’s gaze was imploring, as if she were begging Colleen to back up her claim.
Colleen rubbed Janice’s hand soothingly. “A signature on a piece of paper can’t truly eliminate all the feelings Tony must have for you. It’s not that simple, Janice.”
Janice lowered her tissue-clutching hand slowly. “You…you think Tony still cares about me?” she asked in a quavering voice.
Colleen hesitated. Surely the logical thing to do was to provide some cliché in regard to Janice getting on with her life and time healing all wounds.
And yet…
“Of course he still cares about you,” Colleen said softly. “Don’t you notice the way he watches your every move from across a crowded room?”
“It’s true,” Liam said from behind her. “Tony has always been crazy about you, Janice. He’s never spoken his feelings out loud to me in regard to the divorce, but I can see regret written on every line of his face. Regret and guilt. I know he feels responsible for things going south in the marriage. I see him almost every day at the Municipal Building, and he hasn’t been the same since you two split.”
“He’s never told me that,” Janice said in a whispery, tentative voice.
“Since when can a man ever talk about his feelings?” Colleen said, patting Janice’s hand. “Sometimes actions speak louder than words. I can’t speak for Tony, of course, but would he really have gotten so jealous tonight when he saw you dancing with Eric if he didn’t still have feelings? If I were you, I’d go and talk to him,” she urged earnestly. “Right now. Quickly. Before both of you have time to put bandages on your feelings and retreat into your respective corners. Maybe there’s still a chance to resolve things. Who knows?”
Janice set down her ginger ale and gave her cheeks one last swipe. “Do you really think so?”
“Absolutely,” Liam and Natalie said in unison.
Colleen stood along with Janice. “He still cares about you, Janice,” she said. “I suspect you still care a lot about him. Talking honestly is the right thing to do, no matter what the end result is.”
Janice sniffed and gave Colleen a quick hug. She gave Mari, Liam and Natalie a thankful glance before she hurried out of the room, obviously intent on following Colleen’s recommendation.
Colleen turned her head at the sound of someone clearing his throat.
Her eyes widened at the sight of Eric leaning against the counter, his arms crossed beneath his chest, his eyes smoldering. He’d been watching the whole exchange—and her—with apparent interest. His lips tilted into a small, sardonic grin.
Embarrassment flooded her.
She’d just been caught in the act. Of all the people at this party, why had Eric Reyes had to be a witness to her bout of romantic advice-giving?
Chapter Five
She broke eye contact with Eric.
“This kitchen is getting too crowded,” she said after Janice had left the room. She pointed at Eric. “You, take out a fresh bowl of dip, please, and you—” she transferred her finger to her brother “—go and dance with your fiancée and have a terrific time.”
“Don’t even try and argue with her,” Liam told Eric from the side of his mouth as he passed him, Natalie’s hand in his. “I grew up with her. We called her the little general. Resistance is futile.”
Colleen smiled and rolled her eyes at Liam’s joke, but she still had difficulty meeting Eric’s gaze. She noticed that he’d opened the refrigerator door and was following her instructions. To her horror, Mari excused herself to get some bottles of soda from the garage, and she was left alone with Eric in the kitchen. She bustled over to the cabinet and pretended to be utterly involved with the fascinating task of setting glasses on the counter.
Damn it, she thought irritably as she gave him a sideways glance. How did he do smug so effortlessly?
“So, what was that all about?” he murmured, leaning against the counter. With that infamous little smirk, lazy pose and immaculate suit, he looked ready for the glossy page of a men’s magazine.
“What?” she replied airily.
“That. What just happened with Janice,” he said, nodding toward the table.
She glanced away, her expression stubborn. “A guest was upset. I consoled her.”
“Whatever happened to demonstrating the dangers of a quick marriage for Liam and Natalie’s sake? You sounded more like an advice columnist for True Romance Confidential than someone demonstrating the value of wisdom and logic when it comes to love.”
Her irritation went on instant froth-mode.
“True Romance Confidential,” she snorted. “You just made that up. There was nothing wrong with the advice I gave Janice,” she said defensively when he gave her a bland look.
“So…you weren’t being completely honest when you said you agreed with me that two people shouldn’t be so impulsive when it came to love,” he said in a mellow tone, completely ignoring her rising fury. “I’m starting to think you’re a closet romantic, Colleen.”
“Well, here’s what I think about what you think, Reyes—” she burst out heatedly, then paused when she heard Mari’s quick footsteps in the back hallway.
“I’d better go and replace the dip,” he said, smiling.
“Yeah. You’d better.” She flung open the freezer door and reached for the ice.
“Is everything okay, Colleen?” Mari asked a few seconds later, probably noticing the loud clanking noise Colleen made as she tossed ice cubes into glasses with undue force.
“Of course. I’m fine,” she mumbled, taking a deep breath and exhaling. Why did she let him get to her? Who cared what Eric thought about her? “But I should know better than to get involved in Janice and Tony’s family conflict.”
“I disagree. I’m glad you said what you did to Janice. Marc thinks it was a real shame those two ever broke up. Janice and Tony were the perfect example of a communication breakdown. They never really did talk in all the months leading up to their divorce,” Mari said as she placed a tray on the counter and arranged the glasses on it. She gave Colleen a significant glance. “Besides, I think we both know it’s best to be open about this stuff. Pushing things down never helped in the long run. Secrets are toxic.”
“That’s the truth,” Colleen admitted, thinking about past Kavanaugh family secrets. Silence hadn’t done much to alleviate the pain of those secrets once they were revealed. In fact, the years of silence had made the truth even more painful when it was finally brought to the surface.
“Which reminds me…have you heard from Deidre?” Mari asked as Colleen poured cranberry juice into one of the glasses. She glanced up, noticing the tension in Mari’s tone. Her sister-in-law’s thoughts had obviously taken the same path as her own.
>
Deidre Kavanaugh was Colleen’s sister. During the summer, they’d all learned that Derry Kavanaugh wasn’t Deidre’s biological father. Deidre had been conceived during an extramarital affair Brigit had had with billionaire business mogul, Lincoln DuBois. Liam had gone to Germany, where Deidre had been working as a nurse in order to break the devastating news. He’d brought her back to the States, and now Deidre was at Lincoln DuBois’s Lake Tahoe mansion.
“Just yesterday,” Colleen replied in a hushed voice. “Her…” She paused, unable to say the word father. She still hadn’t gotten used to the fact that Deidre’s biological father wasn’t Derry Kavanaugh, but Lincoln DuBois. “DuBois isn’t doing very well at all. They had thought that he’d lost so much of his functioning because of several strokes, but recently Deidre insisted he be taken to the hospital for extensive brain imaging. Sure enough, they found a tumor in an area where they can’t operate. Deidre sounds fairly certain that he doesn’t have very long to live.”
Mari made a sound of distress. “I can’t imagine what she must be going through, out in Lake Tahoe, all alone…tending to a dying man…a man she just learned was her father months ago.”
“I know,” Colleen said grimly. “I’m glad that Liam and Marc have both visited her. I keep offering as well, but she insists she’d rather wait for me to come when…you know…” She trailed off, knowing Mari would understand she referred to the inevitable approaching death of Lincoln DuBois.
“She’ll need you at her side the most then,” Mari said, taking an empty club-soda bottle from Colleen and throwing it in the recycle bin. She glanced at Colleen sadly. “And Deidre still refuses to speak to Brigit?”
She nodded. “She’s adamant about not seeing Mom. You know Deidre. She’s a force of nature when she makes up her mind about something. She blames Mom for everything. I try to talk to her about starting slowly with reconciliation—testing the waters—but Deidre is so hurt, you know? She’s even refusing to attend the wedding, because she doesn’t want to see Mom.”