Serena's Song

by Raina James

  Her lips curved, shakily at first. "All right, Finn."

  As soon as she said it, she knew it was the only decision she could have made. Finn was right. Crazy or not, they deserved a second chance. Her smile steadied, bolstered by hope. "I can't promise I won't have doubts, but if you're willing to try, so am I."

  "All right." Finn smiled, gave her a spontaneous, happy kiss that quickly morphed into something hotter. He pulled back, dove in for another kiss, then pushed away from the counter. Her confidence restored, Serena calculated two long steps would put her in towel-tugging range.

  Obviously correctly interpreting her thoughts, he laughed. It was a low, masculine sound of satisfaction.

  "When do you have to be back home?"

  It took her a moment to switch gears. "Hmmm? Oh. Well, Jack and Katie aren't going to be home for another week, but I was only planning to be away from the shop for a few days."

  "Can Maddie handle things for another week?"

  She frowned. "I suppose so. The tourist season is still about a month away, so things shouldn't be too crazy. If she needs to, she can get our part-timer to come in for a few more hours to help out. Why?"

  "I'd really like to spend more time with you, alone. No one's bothering us here, and we can get to know each other again."

  Want and need tussled inside Serena, but the fight was distinctly one-sided. Besides, where Finn was concerned, want and need were a lot closer together than they'd ever been. "Okay. If Maddie thinks she'll be all right, that is."

  Finn grinned. "Great. Now that that's settled, why don't we start over?"

  She raised her brows.

  "The day, I mean. You go upstairs, and I'll surprise you with breakfast in bed."

  Serena smiled coyly. "Hardly a surprise if I know what I'm getting."

  The smoldering look in his eyes set off a flare of answering heat in her belly.

  "I can guarantee, you ain't seen nothing yet. Baby, prepare to be surprised."

  Her breath caught. She hopped off her stool, grabbing at the counter when her legs threatened not to support her. Finn made no move to help her. A good thing, too. If he had, she'd forget about the virtues of anticipation and make him forget all about breakfast. A tempting thought, but she wanted to see what his idea of a surprise was. After all, the beach picnic had been mind-blowing.

  Serena moved away from him, hyper-conscious of the way her T-shirt rubbed against the tips of her breasts, and the way her hips swung gently as she walked out of the kitchen.

  Was she shallow to fold so easily? Did all Finn really have to do was look at her, and she'd drop a few dozen IQ points, ready to believe anything he said? At the moment, she couldn't care less.

  Thoughts consumed with Finn and his promised surprise, she started up the stairs on shaky legs.

  She could hardly wait.

  Chapter 19

  Serena opened her eyes to the dreamy sight of dust motes dancing in the column of sunshine spearing through the skylight over the bed.

  A look at the clock showed it was close to noon, but she felt no inclination to move. Finn's arm was holding her close, warm and secure. His soft snores ruffled the tiny hairs just behind her ear. The feel of his beard rough on her skin—his preferred position, it seemed, was to burrow into the curve between her neck and shoulder—sent a pleasant shiver through her.

  She lay there for a while, doing nothing more than savor her contentment and the unusual experience of waking before him. For a guy who did most of his best work at night, in more ways than one, Finn was a surprisingly early riser.

  Careful not to wake him, she snuggled closer, delighting in the feel of his chest hairs pressing into her back and one of his muscled thighs tucked against hers. The week he'd asked for wasn't over yet, but she already felt as though she was exactly where she was meant to be. She could have been waking up in Finn's arms for years.

  Idly, she let her eyes roam the room. Most traces of the Finn she'd known were gone, but there were still a few touches. The fact they'd survived a professional decorator's purge proved their importance to him. Like the faded wedding portrait that showed a young Liam Logan and his bride. And the studio photo of a beautiful woman with Finn's dark, wavy hair and intense eyes. His, she thought, held an openness that was missing in his mother's, despite the woman's apparent youth.

  Family was important to Finn. Just look at how he'd stayed loyal to his mother, who'd left him behind like an unwanted puppy.

  Now, Finn said he wanted Serena in his life. Permanently. Part of her knew if she took that step, he'd be just as true to her as he'd been to his grandparents and his absent mother. Another part insisted she was a fool. That was the part that said, Sure, he says he loves you now, when you're the only woman around. But what about when he goes back to his real life and his real friends and his real lovers? What then? It'll be just like last time—Finn moving on, you feeling sorry for yourself.

  She really wished that part would shut up.

  Was it time to finally let go of the past? Serena thoughtfully stroked the soft black hairs covering the muscular arm that held her.

  It was a hard decision. Hard to believe they had a future, hard to believe there was a place in Finn's—rather, Riff Logan's—life for plain, ordinary Serena Jeffries. Yet Finn insisted there was. He baffled her. One thing she knew in her bones, felt it like a True Thing, capital letters: He meant it.

  Could she deny such certainty? Did she even want to? No. Emphatically, no.

  With the realization, she felt as though a weight had lifted from her. Buoyed, Serena decided she couldn't stay in bed a moment longer. She wanted to get up and get doing. First order of business, breakfast. She'd let Finn sleep and "surprise" him. Her lips curved in a feline smile as she thought of returning the favor. Oh yeah, he'd managed to surprise her with his own breakfast in bed.

  Afterwards, they'd tackle what came next. Top of that list was introducing him to Jack and Katie. The thought of how that might go temporarily dimmed her newfound optimism. She couldn't even venture a guess on the outcome. She'd never brought a man into their lives before.

  Since Michael had died, it had always been just the three of them.

  Determinedly, she shoved aside her apprehensions. No point in worrying about it now. First things first—breakfast, then they'd talk about that all-important meeting.

  Serena lifted the tangled covers on her side of the bed, but when she went to slide out, Finn's arm tightened around her.

  "Going somewhere?" His voice, husky with early-morning roughness as he whispered in her ear, caused an instant reaction in all her most exciting body parts.

  Starting to smile, she glanced over her shoulder to see him watching her with a solemn expression. Then she realized what he must be thinking. He still wasn't sure of her. The first time they'd woken like this, days ago, a lifetime ago, she'd cut and run like a frightened rabbit. The second time had been worse—she hadn't had second thoughts until Tamara's phone call, which had effectively shattered the afterglow and come close to making her pack her bag and head home. She could almost see Finn wondering, What now? Is this it?

  Her heart squeezed with regret; she had put that wariness in his eyes. Turning to fully face him, she molded her body to his, chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis, and caught his lips in a fervent kiss. His cock hardened against her belly, and she tilted her hips appreciatively. When she at last released him, his eyes glinted with a new emotion entirely.

  "Just the shower and downstairs to make breakfast," she said. "That's all. Nowhere else."

  The grin that crossed his face was brighter than the sunlight filling the room. When she tried again, half-heartedly, to leave the bed, he snagged her wrist. In a smooth motion, he tugged her down to the mattress and rolled on top of her, settling between her thighs with a satisfied murmur. Playfully, he scruffed the upper curve of her breasts with his morning beard. Serena laughed out a weak protest.

  "Finn!" She shoved on his shoulders. "Do you want breakfast or n
ot?"

  "Not."

  He licked his way down to capture one nipple, then proceeded to nibble on it lightly. "Finn—" she said, though the warning was too breathless to hold much threat.

  "I'm thinking." His voice was muffled. "Trying to decide if I'm hungry or … hungry."

  Serena wasn't sure which one she was either. To her disappointment, Finn opted for breakfast. With a parting kiss to the tip of each nipple, he reared back to let her up.

  "Food first. I need fuel, woman." He waggled his brows in a blatantly lascivious way that would have suited a silver-screen villain with a nubile maiden tied to the tracks and the train racing to make its schedule.

  To pay him back, she made a production of sliding sensuously out of the bed and walking with a pronounced sway to the bathroom. She heard him laugh as she turned the shower on.

  She made quick work of her shower, and settled for simply towel-drying her short hair, securing the already-curling locks away from her face with a couple of clips.

  She paused, her hands still lifted to snap the last clip, and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyelids had the puffy look of someone who hadn't gotten much sleep, but hadn't missed it, either. Her eyes had a sparkle that only a special man could put there—the man she loved.

  In that instant, any reservations she had were only so much wasted thought. Finn was a wonderful person, a loving man. How could Jack and Katie not like him?

  She loved Finn, he loved her. Everything else would fall into place.

  When she went back into the bedroom to get dressed, Finn had rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in her pillow. The covers were tangled around his waist. As if he were still too warm, one long, muscled leg was bared. Feeling as optimistic about the weather as she was about life in general at the moment, Serena pulled on a halter top and shorts. Before she left, she couldn’t resist stroking her hand down Finn's back and giving his butt a little pat. His shoulder blades twitched, flexing the muscles, and she could just see his lips curving in a lazy smile.

  She made omelettes. Quick, a little fancy—and lots of protein for energy. Wicked woman! She set the coffee-maker to perk, loaded a wide tray with everything she thought they'd need and headed for the stairs.

  Gravel crunched in the drive and the sound of an engine grew louder. Serena frowned. By the time she'd reached the small foyer, tray in hand, someone was pounding on the door. Without stopping to think, Serena put their breakfast on the console table by the front closet and opened the door.

  At first, the barrage of shouted questions was almost drowned out by the whirring of motor drives and the pop-hiss of flashes. Totally caught off guard, Serena could only blink as she tried to get rid of the bright purple afterimages that temporarily blinded her. She started to pick out comments from the sound barrage, like high notes rising to pierce her eardrums.

  "Mrs. Jeffries, do you have any comment?"

  "Serena! Serena! Is Riff here with you?"

  "How long have you been together? Is Riff Logan the father of your children?"

  "What?!" Serena's mouth dropped open in shocked outrage. "What did you say?"

  Finally starting to make out faces in the crowd packed into the screened porch, she stared at the woman who'd shouted that last question. As if sensing that one of their number had found blood, the other reporters fell silent, hoping to latch on to her quote-tails.

  The woman was worth a second look. She had cotton-candy pink hair cut in a jagged bob, with lips and nails painted to match. Jangling bracelets covered her forearms from wrists almost to elbows like glittery arm braces. But what drew Serena's horrified attention was the magazine she clutched in one manicured hand, holding it before her like a shield boasting her conquests. It wasn't even a true magazine. It was one of those semi-glossy trash mags Serena usually got a laugh out of reading in the checkout line, the kind that boasted everything from "Meet My Alien Baby," to "Maid Comes Clean on Star's Dirt."

  Only she wasn't laughing now.

  Her eyes skimmed past the headline to the photo that filled three-quarters of the front page. Her shocked brain could only take in individual details, like what she was seeing was too horrible to absorb all at once. The beach. A bonfire burned down to embers. A familiar spill of quilt and cushions. The couple entwined in the red glow. And skin. A lot of skin. The X-rated bits were covered—just—by the letters in the headline. Oh. My. God.

  She felt light-headed. Breathe, her brain said. What? Her lungs didn't get the message. Breathe!

  Weakly, in a move that would have been perfect for a Victorian heroine out of one of her favorite bodice-rippers, Serena lifted one hand to cover her gaping mouth. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the lurid front page.

  Without warning, the questions started up again, and the cameras started flashing and whirring with renewed frenzy.

  "Riff! Riff! Do you have any comment?"

  "Riff, are you on your honeymoon?"

  Serena registered two hands settling on her shoulders. Finn. She looked at him helplessly. He'd thrown on a ragged pair of cut-offs and nothing else. His expression looked as hard as a warrior in full battle gear.

  He reached over her shoulder to pluck the magazine out of Cotton Candy Woman's hand. Gently shifting Serena's frozen body aside, he slammed the door and locked it.

  * * * *

  Grimly, Riff stared at the magazine. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Where the fuck had they gotten the picture? He was afraid to look inside and see what other shots they had. There was no credit on the main-page photo; that meant he'd have to look inside to find out who the photographer was. Then he'd make the bastard pay for putting that ravaged look in Serena's eyes.

  A noise made him look up. Serena was as pale as milk, her breath coming in short, choppy gasps.

  "Oh, baby, honey." He dropped the magazine on the forgotten breakfast tray and steered her to the stairs. Sitting, he pulled her down into his lap and started rubbing her back and arms. Where he touched it, her skin felt chilled and unresponsive. "Shhhhh, baby. Breathe, Serena, breathe for me."

  He could still hear the mob clamoring at the door, though it appeared none of them were brave enough to start pounding on it again. He tamped down his anger and forced himself to concentrate on Serena. He'd get her calmed down, then he'd call the cops and get them to evict the vultures who'd trespassed on private property.

  * * * *

  Serena clamped her arms around Finn's neck. For long seconds, she just sat there and let his words wash over her. She could feel his love wrapping around her as easily as the body heat seeping from his skin to hers, chasing away the cold shock that had filled her.

  The rumble of his voice was every bit as warming as his touch, reminding her she wasn't alone. The thought of Finn whisking her away from the media hounds like a silent, regal champion in torn denim straightened her spine.

  Serena ordered herself to get a grip. Now was not the time to fall apart. Forcing her breathing to even out, she felt the light-headedness fade. Better, though she still felt sickened by what she'd seen on the cover of that magazine.

  Riff, feeling Serena's trembling stop, eased her off his lap. "Stay here."

  She nodded. He was relieved to see the glazed look had left her eyes. She looked upset, but aware. He took one of the glasses of orange juice off the tray and held it to her lips. She let him feed her a few sips, then took the glass and drank the rest of it herself as the fruit sugar chased away the worst effects of her shock.

  "Can you make it upstairs yourself?" he asked. "I don’t want to sit down here if they decide to start peering in windows. We can wait for the cops to arrive from up there."

  "Ok–" She cleared her throat, and started again, louder, without the croak. "Okay. No problem."

  Carrying the tray, he followed her up. Serena held the railing, but seemed steady enough. She went to the sitting area and watched as he set the tray down on the coffee table. The magazine was gone, she noticed
. Finn picked up a plate, then took it himself when she shook her head.

  "Finn, that picture was taken the other night."

  He sighed and put the plate back on the tray, omelette untouched. "Yeah. Looks that way."

  "Someone was watching us." She couldn’t stop the shudder of revulsion, and rubbed her arms. "Let me see the magazine."

  "Are you sure—"

  "I need to know how bad it is. The kids—" Her voice broke. "Oh my God, the kids. Before, when the first story came out, they thought it was kind of funny. But this—" Finn put his arm around her and she leaned into his comforting bulk. "I need to know how bad this is before I call them."

  Silently, he pulled the folded magazine out of his back pocket and handed it to her.

  Serena examined the cover again, more closely. It was obviously her and Finn, wrapped together in a very unplatonic embrace. If it were a picture of any other couple and hanging on a wall in an art gallery, she'd say it was sensuously beautiful. But it wasn't, not in this context. Instead, it just looked cheap and sleazy.

  She only had to flip a few pages inside to see the rest of the photos. They'd been presented in a film strip, like time-stop photography. The images progressed from the moment Finn had leaned over to lick the sticky marshmallow off her lips, to when they lay wrapped in the blanket, her back spooned to his front.

  As she looked at the photos, she felt her upset giving way to anger. Someone had violated a very special evening and made it into a titillating adventure in amateur porn that anyone with a couple of bucks could buy into. She tried not to think of the internet.

  Finn cursed under his breath, a phrase she'd never heard anyone say before. Wide-eyed, she looked at him.

  "Dick."

  She looked back at the pages she was holding. "I don't see–"

  "No." His finger practically stabbed at the photographer's name. "Dick Randall. Derek. That little shit who worked at the gas station in town. We used to call him Dick, because that's what he was. Still is, apparently."