A Touch of Persuasion

by Janice Maynard

  “That won’t make her miss you less.”

  “Maybe not. But she would know that I’m coming home to her eventually.”

  Eventually. Olivia hated that word. And she hated the fact that her stupid heart threw her under the bus again and again. Kieran wasn’t in love with her. He felt something for her…affection, maybe…and a sense of duty. But that was never going to be enough. Not when Olivia wanted to give him every bit of her passion and devotion.

  Kieran didn’t need her. They weren’t a couple.

  “I don’t like the idea,” she said flatly. “I deserve to have a man in my life who loves me and can’t live without me. What you’re describing would be dishonest. Children are more intuitive than you realize. She would know the truth. I promised to think about you and Cammie. Give me time. Let me go home. In August I’ll give you your answer.”

  He didn’t respond, and to her chagrin, she realized that he had fallen asleep. Disheartened, she turned her back to him, and did the same.

  When she woke up, Kieran wasn’t in the bed beside her. A whiff of aftershave lingered in the air, so she surmised that he had risen early to shower. Perhaps after their awkward conversation the night before, he’d had no inclination to initiate any early-morning fooling around.

  She leaned up on an elbow to look at the clock. Still plenty of time before their scheduled flight. The jet would be on standby, ready to go at their convenience. But Kieran had promised Annalise that he and Olivia would be back by lunchtime, so Olivia needed to get dressed.

  When she appeared in the sitting room thirty minutes later, Kieran stood in front of the window, hands behind his back, looking down at the quiet street below.

  He turned to face her, his expression grave. “Where’s your cell phone?” he asked.

  She grimaced. “I forgot to charge it last night. The battery’s probably dead.”

  “Sit down, Olivia.” He came to join her on the sofa, taking her hands in his and studying her face, his eyes filled with compassion. “Your parents have been trying to reach you. They finally called the house to relay a message, and Father contacted me.”

  Her heart thudded with fear. “What’s wrong?”

  “I need you to be brave,” he said. “We’ll get through this.”

  “Oh, my God…was there an accident?” Her blood turned to ice in her veins.

  “Not that. They’re fine.”

  “Then what?”

  She actually saw on his face the struggle to choose a correct phrase. And Kieran’s loss of words scared her more than anything had in a long, long time. “Just tell me,” she croaked. “I can take it.”

  His thumbs rubbed absently over the backs of her hands, the repetitive motion not at all soothing given that his expression was torn and troubled. “Your mother’s psycho stalker fire-bombed your house last night. It burned to the ground. Everything is gone.”

  She saw his lips moving, but the roaring in her ears drowned it out. Her eyes closed as hysteria welled in her chest. “No. You’re wrong,” she said, batting his hands away when he tried to hold her. “That’s not possible. Cammie’s baby album is there…and my paintings. All her toys…” Agony clogged her throat, exacerbated by the way Kieran looked at her. It couldn’t be true.

  “Take me there,” she said. “Take me now. I want to see it.” She was shaking all over, and the last words came out on a cry of pain.

  Kieran took her shoulders and dragged her close, ignoring her wildly flailing fists, stroking her hair. “Hush, baby,” he said. “I’m right here. It’s going to be okay.”

  She cried in broken, gasping, wretched sobs that hurt her chest. A great, yawning chasm opened up at her feet, and she was terrified that she was going to fall into the depths and never claw her way back to the top. Again and again she repeated his words in her head. Everything is gone.

  It seemed impossible and at the same time terrifyingly real.

  She clung to Kieran, unashamed. Nothing else made sense. Time lost all meaning.

  When the tears ran out, she lay limp in his embrace, her breathing ragged. “Did they catch him?” For some reason, that was the first question that popped into her brain.

  “Not yet. But they will. He knew you weren’t at home. The police profiler doesn’t think he really wants to hurt anyone. This was a bid for attention.”

  “What about my parents?”

  “They’re surrounded by a twenty-four-hour security detail. The authorities think you and Cammie need to stay where you are until the man is in custody.”

  The irony didn’t escape her. Kieran was getting exactly what he wanted. More time with his daughter.

  She jerked out of his arms, wiping her cheeks with the heels of her hands. “I have to see my house. If you won’t take me, I’ll go on my own.”

  “Of course I’ll take you,” he said, frustration replacing his solicitous tone. “But I think it’s a bad idea. There’s nothing there. You don’t want to see it, believe me.”

  “I don’t want to,” she said bleakly. “I have to.”

  Kieran didn’t know it was possible to hurt so badly for another human being. Standing beside Olivia a few hours later, giving her all the support he was able to in light of her mercurial mood, he watched as she surveyed what was left of her property. They’d made the trip via jet in record time, though sadly, there was no reason to hurry.

  Yellow police tape cordoned off the area. Curious neighbors gawked, but kept a respectful distance. Olivia had already been questioned by police personnel as well as the chief fire marshal.

  The house had literally burned to the ground, leaving nothing but a smoldering mass of debris. On a bright, sunny California afternoon, the evidence marking a violent act seemed even worse.

  Olivia wrapped her arms around her waist, face paper-white, eyes haunted. “At least we weren’t at home,” she said.

  “They think the man was watching the house…that he knew when you packed up and left.”

  Her bottom lip trembled. “Cammie was supposed to grow up here. I always felt so safe,” she whispered. “Our little haven away from the world. But there’s no hiding, is there?” She gasped on a hiccupping sob.

  Kieran didn’t bother to answer the rhetorical question. The difficult truth was one he’d learned at the tender age of four, a painful, vivid lesson that had marked the course of his subsequent life.

  Rage filled him at the senseless destruction. Rage and an impotent guilt. A man was supposed to protect his family. Now, more than ever, he understood his father’s actions. Though occasionally misguided, Victor Wolff and his brother, Vincent, had taken the necessary steps to protect what was theirs, to make sure their children were safe.

  Losing their wives, having them murdered in cold blood, had been the catalyst for founding a sanctuary at Wolff Mountain. And now, thank God, Kieran would be able to keep Olivia and Cammie there, cocooned from further danger, until the dangerous fire-bomber was apprehended.

  The thought that the man might track Olivia and Cammie to the mountain made Kieran’s blood run cold.

  Unexpectedly a uniformed investigator approached them, gingerly holding a small item that was apparently hot to the touch. He tipped his hat briefly in a polite salute and extended his hand toward Olivia. “I found this…thought you might want it. Be careful. It’s still warm.”

  He ducked back under the tape and quickly returned to his job, perhaps not comfortable with tears. Kieran didn’t think Olivia even realized she was crying. But slow, wet trickles made tracks down her cheeks.

  She looked down at the silver object in her hand, and the shaking she’d finally brought under control began anew.

  Kieran put his arm around her, holding her close.

  When Olivia looked up at him, her wet lashes were spiky. “It’s the baby rattle I bought for her when she was born. I had it engraved.”

  He glanced at the spot where she had rubbed away the soot to reveal a shiny patch. To Cammie with love from Mommy and Daddy. Throat tight, h
e shot her a questioning glance.

  “I didn’t want her to think that her father didn’t care.”

  He should have been angry, faced anew with the proof that Olivia had hidden his existence. But he couldn’t drum up any negative emotion, not with the mother of his child looking as if she might shatter into a million tiny pieces.

  Not only that, but he ached from the certainty that his own mistakes had brought them to this tragic point. “Let’s go,” he said gruffly. “We need to get home to Cammie.”

  Even with the convenience of a private jet, crossing from the East Coast to the West Coast and back in one day was no easy feat. Jacob had called a pharmacy in Olivia’s neighborhood and ordered a light sedative. Once on the plane, Kieran insisted she swallow it with a glass of milk and a handful of saltines.

  So far he hadn’t managed to persuade her to eat a morsel of food. Olivia was operating on nothing more than adrenaline and sheer will. He settled her in a seat and reclined it to the sleeping position. The steward furnished a pillow and blankets. Olivia was asleep before the wheels left the tarmac.

  After takeoff, Kieran unfastened his seat belt and crouched beside her, brushing the hair from her face with a gentle touch. One of her hands was tucked under her cheek. Her eyelashes fanned in crescents over the dark smudges beneath her eyes.

  As he watched the almost imperceptible rise and fall of her breasts, he felt a painful pressure in his own chest. He loved her. Body and soul. What he had tried to cut off at the root half a dozen years ago had regenerated in the warmth and sunshine of Olivia’s return to his life.

  And the knowledge that they shared a daughter....

  He stood abruptly and strode up to the cockpit, unable to deal with the rush of emotion. It made him dizzy and sick and terrified. What if he lost one of them…or both? It didn’t have to be some tragic circumstance. Olivia might simply take Cammie and walk away. After all, she had turned down his marriage proposal without so much a blink.

  Kieran stepped through the curtain, legs weak. “Captain, how’s the weather looking up ahead?” Idle chitchat wouldn’t distract him for long from his dark thoughts, but sitting beside Olivia was torture.

  Olivia fought the nightmares. At long last, her heart pounding and her skin clammy with sweat, she surfaced from a drugged sleep. It took several interminable seconds for her to identify her surroundings…and then to remember why she was on a plane.

  A shaky sob worked its way up her throat, but she choked it back, sitting up to rub her eyes. Thousands of people around the world had lost their homes this year alone, during floods and tornados and hurricanes. Olivia had been knocked down. But the crying was over. She had Cammie. She had her health. And she had financial resources.

  She would be fine. But in truth, the prospect of starting over was daunting.

  Kieran appeared suddenly from the front of the plane. His shirt was rumpled. He hadn’t shaved. And there were deep grooves etched into his forehead and at the sides of his mouth. Lines she could swear weren’t there yesterday.

  Exhaustion shrouded him, decimating his usual energy. Seeing Kieran made her wonder how bad she must look. He didn’t give her the opportunity to find out. He took his seat and fastened the belt. “We’re landing shortly.”

  She raised her seat and folded the blankets, handing them and the pillow to the steward with a murmured thanks. “How long was I out?”

  He shrugged. “You slept across five states, give or take a few. But don’t worry…you didn’t miss much. It was mostly clouds.”

  For a wry attempt at humor, it wasn’t bad, especially given the circumstances. She summoned a weak smile, her face aching with the effort. “Thank you, Kieran.” She reached across the small space dividing them and took his hand in hers. “Thank you for going with me.”

  The sound of the flaps being deployed and the whine of the engines powering down made conversation difficult. Kieran stared down at their linked fingers. “You going to be okay?” He played with the small cameo ring on her right hand.

  She nodded, unable to speak. Clinging to him and never letting go was very appealing. Either that or asking the pilot to fly them to Antarctica.

  Thinking about what lay ahead scared her. How do you tell a five-year-old that the only home she has ever known is gone?

  Kieran’s grasp tightened on her hand. “What is it?” he asked. “What are you thinking?”

  “Cammie,” she said simply. “How am I ever going to tell Cammie?”

  Thirteen

  In the end, they did it together. Annalise had bathed Cammie and fed her and tucked her into clean pajamas. They were reading a book when Olivia and Kieran finally made their way upstairs to the bedroom that Kieran had so carefully picked out for his daughter.

  The child’s face lit up when she saw them. “Mommy! Kieran! I missed you. Did you bring me a present?”

  Annalise excused herself quietly, pausing only to give Olivia a quick hug as she left the room. The gentle gesture of compassion tested Olivia’s tear-free resolve.

  Kieran scooped Cammie up in his arms and held her tight. On his face, Olivia saw her own sadness and thankfulness. Things could have been so much worse.

  The three of them sat together on a cushioned window seat overlooking the mountainside in the gathering dusk. Kieran gazed at Olivia over the five-year-old’s head, telegraphing a question. You ready?

  She shook her head, putting her fist to her mouth. You do it, she signaled. If she tried to explain, she might burst into tears, and she didn’t want to scare her child.

  Kieran rested his chin on Cammie’s head for a long moment, and then pulled back when she wiggled. “Something bad has happened, sweetheart. I need you to be brave when I tell you this.”

  Every ounce of childish glee melted away to be replaced by an oddly adult expression of anxiety. “What is it?”

  Olivia saw the muscles in his throat work, and knew how unfair she was being to make him do her dirty work. He had to know the impending news would hurt their daughter. But like parents wincing in empathy for an uncomprehending infant about to get vaccinations, she and Kieran had no choice but to tell Cammie the awful truth.

  “There was a fire at your house in California,” he said slowly, choosing his words with care.

  Cammie’s eyes rounded. “Did Mommy leave the iron on?”

  In spite of everything, Olivia wanted to giggle. “No, baby.”

  Kieran’s sober expression softened. “A bad man made a fire and it got out of control.”

  “Is Princess Boots okay?”

  At Kieran’s baffled look, Olivia jumped in. “Kitty is still with Mrs. Capella. Remember?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She frowned, scrunching up her nose and eyes in concentration. “So we have to stay here for a while?”

  Kieran nodded slowly. “If that’s okay with your mom.”

  Olivia nodded, her eyes wet. Clearly Cammie didn’t understand the import of what had happened…at least not yet. She was only five. Time enough for upsetting revelations as she asked questions in the coming weeks.

  Cammie wiggled off Kieran’s knee. “I’m glad Bun-Bun was here with me.” Bun-Bun was the much-loved stuffed animal without which Cammie couldn’t sleep. Perhaps in Cammie’s eyes, that was enough.

  Kieran ruffled her hair. “I’m glad, too. Time for bed, big girl. Your mommy and I have been flying all day, and we’re beat.”

  As they tucked her in, Cammie yawned and surveyed them sleepily. She studied Kieran’s face. “Are you my mommy’s boyfriend?”

  Olivia choked. “Where did you hear about boyfriends?”

  “Mrs. Capella says that her daughter is getting a dee-vors because she has a boyfriend and a husband. You don’t have a husband, so I thought Kieran might be your boyfriend.”

  The two adults held back their laughter with heroic effort. Kieran’s face was red when he said, “Your mommy and I are friends. And we both love you very much. Now go to sleep, and tomorrow, we’ll all do something fun together.�
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  Outside in the hall, they collapsed against the wall, laughing uncontrollably until at last they both wheezed and gasped and braced their hands against the Chinese silk wallpaper. Olivia knew the moment of hilarity was a cleansing response to the day’s tragedy.

  Trust a child to restore a sense of balance to life.

  Olivia wiped her eyes. “Thank you,” she said. “For telling her. You were perfect.”

  He put the back of his hand to her hot cheek. “Far from perfect. But I love that little girl.”

  What happened next was inevitable. In shared grief and exhaustion, they came together, heart to heart, breath mingling with breath. Kieran held her as if she might break, his embrace gentle, his body warm and solid and comforting.

  They kissed carefully, as if for the first time. She came so close to blurting out her love, laying it at his feet in gratitude. It would be unfair to burden him with her feelings when he had done so much for her already.

  Gradually tenderness heated to passion. She felt him tremble as her hands roved his back.

  He sighed, hugging her so tightly her ribs protested. “I need to stay with you tonight, Olivia. To make sure you’re okay. Please.”

  How could she deny what she wanted so badly? “Yes.”

  He kissed her again, covering her face with light, almost-not-there brushes of his lips. “But first I’m going to feed you.”

  Food? Her awakening arousal protested. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed closer. Sex offered oblivion. Forgetfulness. That was all she wanted and needed right now.

  He broke free and stepped back, breathing heavily. “Go get cleaned up. Put on a nightgown. I’ll consult with the chef and bring up a tray.”

  “I’m not hungry,” she grumbled. The thought of food made nausea churn in her stomach.

  “Doesn’t matter.” His mien was more drill sergeant than lover. “You have to eat.”

  She followed his initial direction and stepped into the shower. Beneath the hot, pelting spray, she had to admit that Kieran was right. The water was cleansing in more ways than one. If a few more tears were shed amidst the soapy rivulets swirling down the drain, no one was the wiser.