With her mind firmly made up, she opened the bathroom door.
A gasp quivered from her lips when Luke met her with a possessive grip and a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “Sweet saints, Katie, if you’re trying to build anticipation, you win, because I’m about ready to crawl out of my skin.”
He cupped her face in his hands and pressed her to the wall, taking her mouth with such gentle force that a moan escaped her lips. When he pulled away, the blood in her cheeks warmed at the sight of his bare, muscled chest tapering into low-slung pajama bottoms. The heady scent of Bay Rum from his clean-shaven jaw merged with the smell of soap from blond hair still wet from his shower. She looked up and gulped, completely disarmed by the glow of love in his eyes.
“Heaven help me, Katie, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze scanning her negligee as if he wanted to swallow her whole.
The blue eyes recaptured hers once again, and her heart tripped at the desire she saw in his face. His generous mouth tipped up in a smoldering tease as he leaned in to nuzzle her neck. “Pinch me, Katie Rose, because I can hardly believe I get to make love to you for the rest of my life.”
In a sudden sweep of his arms, he cradled her to his chest and carried her to their bed with the utmost care, setting her down on the smooth, cool sheets as if she were the most fragile of gifts. He eased in beside her and drew her close, his voice husky with emotion as he stared into her eyes. “I love you, Katie,” he said, fingers sifting into her hair while his palms caressed her face. “So much that sometimes I ache inside.” He kissed her then, slow and languid as he laid her back on the bed, the chaotic rhythm of her breathing as ragged as his.
Hungry hands grazed warm against the smooth silk of her gown, and a breathless sigh shuddered from her lips. “I love you too,” she whispered, skin tingling while his mouth fondled hers slow and easy before wandering to the hollow of her throat.
Her body quivered as gentle palms slowly slipped the straps of her gown from her shoulders, his words hoarse and hot against her skin. “And you have my word, Sass—I will do everything in my power to make you the happiest woman alive.” She caught her breath when his lips trailed down, sending shudders of warmth rippling through her body.
The happiest woman alive. Her eyelids fluttered closed. Sweet angels in heaven—there was no doubt about that.
3
For the love of Job, can it get any worse? Sean hurled his pencil in an uncommon display of temper, glaring as it skittered across a desk littered with invoices for inventory that was, apparently, doing nothing but gathering dust on the shelves. His jaw ached from grinding his teeth, an unconscious habit that surfaced only when he balanced books at the end of each month. At least, lately. He kneaded the knot of tension at the ridge of his brow with the pad of his hand, knowing full well that Mr. Kelly would be looking for any reason whatsoever to save the bottom line. Sean had literally begged the man just three months ago not to lay off two of Sean’s employees, even taking a pay cut himself to sweeten his plea. But after this month’s disastrous figures, Sean wasn’t sure how much longer Mr. Kelly could sustain two hardware stores in an economy where neither was showing a profit.
He released a weighty sigh, absently unwrapping the Snickers candy bar he’d saved from his lunch, but he knew even his favorite obsession couldn’t lift his spirits today. Taking a bite, he barely tasted it as his gaze wandered aimlessly past tattered posters of tools on the wall, taking in the cramped office he’d occupied for the last ten years as manager of Mr. Kelly’s second store. Sean had never given the man a moment’s regret, tirelessly building “Kelly’s 2” into one of the most profitable mercantiles in the city. Chewing slowly, he rotated his chair to stare out in the alley, ignoring the crooked arrangement of framed certificates that confirmed his success on the wall by the window. His lips twisted. Former success, that is.
The scent of gasoline fumes and fresh asphalt drifted through the screen on a hot summer breeze, fluttering an obstinate strand of hair that persisted in tumbling over his forehead. His heyday as Kelly’s golden boy didn’t amount to much now, he supposed, not in the throes of the most devastating depression the world had ever seen. Despite the fact that Sean’s was the only one of Mr. Kelly’s two hardware stores that had eked out a razor-thin profit over the last year, he knew it was barely enough to cover the overhead of one store, much less two. Not when Sean suspected Mr. Kelly’s nephew—the laziest piece of humanity Sean had ever seen—tapped into store funds for his own personal use.
He rolled up the sleeves of his white, starched shirt and blasted out another sigh, this one fraught with frustration over the fact he’d have to tell Mr. Kelly the bad news today, and it wouldn’t be pretty. Somewhere a jackhammer pulverized a concrete sidewalk down the alley, and the battering was as merciless as the headache grinding in his brain. His eyes trailed into a blank stare, gaze fixed on lopsided towers of boxes and crates stacked against an eight-foot chain-link fence that separated Kelly’s from the back door of the Five and Ten.
His jaw tightened as he contemplated the possibilities, none of them good. He might have to cut staff at the very least, manning the front counter for more hours than he did now, which didn’t bother him as much as telling Andy, Mort, or Ray they no longer had jobs. The thought squeezed his heart like a vise, and he closed his eyes, racking his brain for another solution. He’d already returned all overstock he’d had, allowing his inventory to dwindle almost in half, and he’d even worked long after he clocked out rather than cut store hours.
But the bottom line stared at him now, drowning in a pool of red ink, and figures didn’t lie—drastic measures would need to be taken. At the very worst, his store could close, robbing his employees of much-needed income, not to mention demoting him to assistant manager of the store across town. His eyes peeled open, the thought trapping a groan in his throat. It would be like starting over again, second in line after Lester. Which meant that Sean would do all the work while Lester pocketed all the glory . . . and the salary.
“Goodness, business must be bad—I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you so idle before.”
Sean spun around in his chair with a sharp intake of sticky air, the headache in his brain compounded by the “headache” in the door. He quickly rose to his feet and adjusted his tie, forcing a smile he didn’t feel. “Miss Kelly . . . It’s good to see you again.”
Something in her secret smile set him on edge as he watched Rose Kelly pluck off dainty lace gloves that matched the trim of her lavender dress. “Is it?” she asked softly, tucking them into her clutch while hopeful brown eyes caused a cramp in Sean’s gut. One perfectly manicured hand made a nervous sweep along the scoop neck of her collar before pausing at a satin tie that fell just above her tiny belted waist. “It’s good to see you too, Sean,” she whispered, her innocent tone belying the warmth in her eyes. “And I do wish you’d call me Rose.”
Warmth surged and he cleared his throat, bending slightly to brace palms to his desk. He glanced up beneath cautious lids, more than wary. “Is there something I can do for you, Rose?”
Her smile was suddenly shy, reminding him that the gangly girl who’d harbored a crush on him from the age of fifteen was now a woman who could quicken his pulse. The thought unsettled him, eliciting a strong appreciation for the massive oak desk that provided a barrier.
She carefully shut the door before he could object, and every muscle in his body tensed. Her gaze flitted to a wooden chair across the room, stacked high with papers, and then back to him with a gentle smile. “Do you mind if I sit down?”
Yes, he thought with a silent groan. He hesitated, suddenly aware he was grinding his teeth again. “If you’re here to see your father, I’m not expecting him for another hour or so.”
Her air of confidence seemed to dissipate before his eyes with a pinch of penciled brows and a nervous lick of her lips. “I know . . . ,” she said quietly, staring at her hands while she picked at her nails. When her gaze finally rose to meet hi
s, he saw water well in her eyes, and he blinked in surprise. The indomitable Rose Kelly . . . crying? Against his will, a twinge of sympathy wedged in his chest and he straightened, wrinkles puckering the bridge of his nose. “Miss Kelly . . . Rose . . . are you all right?”
A frail sob broke from her lips and she put a quivering hand to her face. “No . . . no I’m not. And I’m not here to see my father . . . I’m here to see you.” She sniffed and made a valiant attempt to square her shoulders before she shoved at several tears trailing her cheeks. “Please forgive me, but may I . . . we . . . please sit?”
He blinked, her own emotional well-being suddenly more important than his. She was twenty-two, but despite the stylish cloche hugging brunette curls and a tailored dress that clearly molded to the curves of a woman, Rose Kelly might have been fifteen once again. As if tears had washed away her façade, she was no longer the bold, confident flapper who’d breached his defenses in the storeroom two summers past. Instead, she stood before him, a slip of a girl with doleful wet eyes and a plaintive smile that tugged at his heart. Years of experience soothing sisters rose within, compelling him to retrieve the chair against the wall. With a deep swallow of air, he cleared off a month’s worth of time sheets and set the chair beside her, waiting for her to sit. When she didn’t, he gently guided her down, fighting a brother’s urge to comfort with a tender embrace and a gentle stroke of her hair.
Clearing his throat, he returned to his seat and sat back, forearms flat on the armrests and eyes fixed on her tearstained face. “So . . . how can I help you, Rose?”
She fished a handkerchief from her purse and dabbed at her face. “You must think I’m crazy,” she whispered, avoiding his eyes. “Coming to see you like this, your employer’s daughter, engaged to another.” She drew in a shaky breath and looked up, a mix of fear and pain in her face. “But I had to, Sean. You see, I’ll be a married woman in less than two months and I . . .” A lump shifted in her throat. “I needed to know . . . something.”
A hint of alarm curled in his stomach, and he eased farther back in his chair, desperate to distance himself. “What?” he asked, his voice little more than a croak.
She chewed on the edge of her lip, drawing his eyes to the fullness of her mouth, and heat tracked up the back of his neck. He forced his gaze back to hers and shifted, uneasy with the conversation.
“I guess it’s no secret that I’ve had . . . eyes for you since I was a young girl—”
Jolting up in the chair, he pressed his palms to his desk. “Rose—”
“No, Sean, please . . . hear me out?”
He swallowed hard and sat back, sucking in a deep breath that stalled in his throat.
“I know I’ve made a fool of myself, especially when I kissed you in the storeroom that time.” She looked away, a rise of color in her cheeks. “So I’m here to apologize for that.”
A reedy breath slowly seeped from his lips. “Apology accepted.”
“And to find something out . . .”
His stomach clutched.
“You see, I’ve done my best to love Chester, really I have. Father’s crazy about him, you know . . . or at least crazy about his money, but I . . .” A faint shiver emanated from her petite frame as she glanced up, her eyes naked with longing before she quickly looked away. “Father’s forcing me to marry him, but I don’t love him, hard as I’ve tried.” Her shoulders sagged and she slumped in the chair, her gaze pinned to the front of his desk and lost in a vacant stare. “Mother says I will eventually, that most marriages start out without love. She says true love is only a fairy tale, but I . . .” She gnawed at her lip again while twisting the diamond on her left hand. “I don’t believe that . . . not when I still may have feelings for someone else.” Her eyelids flicked up then, revealing the heart of her statement. “Feelings for you . . .”
She rose from her chair before he could open his mouth to speak, and when she rounded his desk, he shot to his feet. “Rose—no! You don’t have feelings for me.”
“But how will I know, Sean, I mean really know?” She placed a trembling hand on the edge of his desk and moved forward, a quiver lacing her voice. “Soon I’ll be walking down the aisle to spend my life with a man I don’t love, and I need to put these feelings to rest.”
He stood his ground, resisting the urge to step back. “I agree, and the best way to do that is to go home—now—to your fiancé.”
“No! I’m sorry, Sean, but I can’t.” The frantic volume of her words underscored the trembling lift of her chin. “Not until I know if these feelings are gone. I was willing to marry Chester, truly I was . . . until last month. You see, I had a dream about you. You kissed me in that dream, and I haven’t been able to think of anything else.”
“It was only a dream, Rose, a figment of your imagination.”
She bent forward, a thread of challenge in her tone despite the wounded look in her face. “Was it a figment of my imagination when you kissed me in the storeroom?”
His jaw dropped. “You kissed me, as I recall, although ambush might be a better word.”
“But you responded!” Moisture welled in her eyes as desperation strangled her tone. “Can you deny it?”
Heat crawled up his face, tapping into a well-hidden temper. He leaned in, hands low on his hips. “I’m a man, Miss Kelly—that’s liable to happen when a woman throws herself at me.”
Two doleful brown eyes blinked back, dribbling more tears. “I don’t believe that. A man doesn’t just return a woman’s kiss unless he wants to . . .” A lump bobbed in her throat. “Unless he has some kind of feelings for her.”
“Rose, I don’t have feelings for you—”
“You said that in my dream too, Sean, but it wasn’t true. I kissed you and you responded just like in the storeroom that time, and suddenly I knew—knew that underneath all your denial, you actually care. Don’t you see? I have to do this! I have to find out for sure, before I walk down that aisle.” Her gaze flitted to his lips and held, skyrocketing his pulse.
He stepped back as shock coursed through his veins. “For pity’s sake, Rose, you’re engaged to another man—what kind of woman are you?”
She stepped close and poked a finger to his chest despite tears brimming her eyes. “A woman who wants to make good and sure she’s not attracted to one man before she marries another. And there’s only one way to find out. So you may as well kiss me, Sean O’Connor, because I’m not leaving till you do.”
He crossed his arms, certain he’d never met a more stubborn woman—outside of Charity, that is. His jaw shifted as he steeled his voice. “Go home, Rose, there’ll be no—”
Her lunge took him by complete surprise, causing a gasp to choke in his throat. She was maybe five foot three, but the force of her petite frame sent him sprawling back in the chair so hard that she rendered him speechless. A condition that suited Miss Kelly just fine, apparently, as she clung to his neck while parked in his lap, lips fused to his. He could smell the rose scent of her hair and feel the press of her hands as she clutched him close, and for several paralyzing seconds, heat infused his body like a blast from the wood-burning stove at the back of the store. All reason fled, and with a slam of his heart, he found himself responding with a fervor that stunned him so much, he jerked back in the chair.
“No!” he said, chest heaving as he tried to shove her away.
“I knew it!” she cried, water welling once again. “You care for me—you do!”
Shame stung his cheeks as he attempted to rise. “Not in that way . . .”
She clutched him tightly. “Yes, you do—I knew it!”
“Rose!” He pushed her back, fingers pinched hard on her arms and no recourse but the truth. “I may be attracted to you, but I don’t want you—ever!”
The brutal impact of his words appeared to deplete her completely, and with a painful shudder, she crumpled in his hold, body quivering with sobs.
The sight of his own sisters’ tears had always unnerved him, and it was no
different now. Fraternal instinct kicked in, and he pulled her to his chest, stroking her hair to calm her down. “Rose—you’re only twenty-two and I’m thirty-four, almost thirty-five. That’s twelve years difference, and the truth is, I have no plans to marry anyone—ever—not just you.” His words set off another round of weeping, and his heart constricted. “Trust me, Chester is perfect for you—he’s young, wealthy, and he’s in love with you, I’m sure—”
“B-but I don’t love him . . .”
Her pitiful wail increased in volume, and Sean closed his eyes, his lips sporting the seeds of a smile. “You will in time, if you just give it a—”
“For the love of Jezebel, what in tarnation is going on here?”
Sean’s eyes flipped open, glazed in shock as Mr. Kelly loomed in the door, slack-jawed over the sight of Rose in his lap. With a harsh gasp of air, Sean bolted to his feet in a knee-jerk reaction, plunking Rose to the wood floor in a noisy flail of arms.
“Dash it, man, are you crazed?” Mr. Kelly plucked her up in mere seconds, clasping her to his chest as she sobbed in his arms. “What the devil is going on here?”
“Mr. Kelly—I was just consoling her, I swear—”
“In your lap?” The man’s voice cracked on a high note, and Sean felt the blood drain from his face.
“Sir, it’s not as it appears . . .”
“Oh, really?” His eyes were slits of rage as he patted the back of his wailing daughter. “For the love of all that’s good and decent, O’Connor, the woman’s engaged. So help me, if you took advantage of her—”
“No, sir, I swear—”
Mr. Kelly shook his daughter with a white-knuckled grip. “Did he, Rose? Tell me now—did he kiss you?”
Rose quivered as she stared, first at her father, and then at Sean. She turned away and gave a shaky nod, eyes rimmed raw with weeping.
A Heart Revealed Page 7