Conor

by Kate Hoffmann

  “Is this about the trial?” Olivia asked.

  “No. It’s just some business that I have to take care of.” He pulled the door open, then started off down the hall, Olivia right on his heels.

  “Conor, wait.”

  He stopped and turned to her at the front door, then glanced over her shoulder at the ladies. With a tight smile, he bent close and placed another awkward kiss on her lips. “I’ll see you in a little while, darling.” He gave the ladies a wave and then walked out, leaving Olivia to wonder just what was so important that it preoccupied his thoughts so completely.

  “Bye,” she murmured, closing the door behind him. Olivia slowly walked back to the table and took her place.

  Sadie sighed. “I suppose the honeymoon has to be over sometime, dear.”

  Olivia forced a smile, then reached for the pitcher of orange juice. As she poured herself a glass, she noticed the little bouquet of flowers that Geraldine had brought over to brighten the table. The daisies were placed in a faux silver tankard that had a remarkably realistic patina. Olivia reached for it and plucked a daisy out, then began to pull the petals off one by one. He loves me, he loves me not, she chanted silently.

  The ladies continued to chat while Olivia listened with half an ear. She picked up the tankard and idly studied the design. For a reproduction, it really was quite remarkable. The weight was almost perfect for one of real silver. Usually she could tell real Colonial silver from reproduction without a second glance, but this piece almost left her guessing.

  “Where did you get this?” Olivia asked. She held it up and stared at the bottom, looking at the mark. Her stomach did a quick flip-flop and she tried to remain calm.

  “At the supermarket,” Geraldine said. “I love fresh flowers and they have bouquets of daisies and carnations and mums for $3.99. They last nearly a week.”

  “Not the flowers,” Olivia said. “The silver tankard.”

  Geraldine stared at it for a moment. “Oh, I don’t know. I used to go to a lot of rummage sales when Louis and I were first married. We didn’t have much money so I had to decorate on a budget. I must have picked it up then.”

  “At a rummage sale?”

  “What difference does it make? It’s just a cheap little thing, but I always thought it made a pretty vase.”

  Olivia pushed up from the table. “Would you mind if I borrowed this for a while?”

  Geraldine’s brow wrinkled in confusion but she nodded. “Why, certainly. In fact, if you’d like it, you can have it.”

  Olivia shook her head. “I-I don’t think you want to give this to me,” she murmured. Excitement pulsed through her, the same thrill she got whenever she found a hidden treasure. She’d wondered if she’d ever get that feeling back again, and here it was, as if it were simply part of her nature. “I have to go into Boston, but Conor has the car.”

  “Is there something wrong?” Sadie asked.

  “No,” Olivia said. “In fact, there might be something really right. I just need to check it out first. Can one of you take me to the train station?”

  “What is it, dear?” Sadie asked.

  “It’s this,” Olivia said, holding up the tankard. “Geraldine, I think this might be very valuable. I’m not sure yet, so I have to check some books.”

  “Valuable?” Geraldine said. “That old thing? How valuable?”

  “Very,” Olivia said. She turned from the table and grabbed her purse and jacket from the couch in the living room. “So who can take me?”

  Sadie smiled, then clapped her hands. “Why, we’ll all take you. This is very exciting. A valuable treasure right in our midst. Come on, ladies, let’s go. We’ll get the details in the car.” With that, all five of them hurried out the door. Olivia glanced around the apartment, then wondered whether she should leave a note for Conor.

  In the end, she decided not to. It would take her an hour at the most to get downtown on the train and an hour to get back. She’d only need a few minutes at the shop and she’d have her answers. No, she didn’t need to leave a note. She’d be back in plenty of time.

  FOR ONCE in his career, Conor wished he was back in a patrol car. At least he’d have a siren and lights to clear the way. But instead, he was stuck with the heap that his brother had procured, a car that shimmied over the speed of fifty and cornered as if the street were covered with Crisco.

  He’d arrived home from his meeting with the brass to find the apartment empty. At first, he’d assumed that Olivia had gone over to one of the ladies’ apartments for whatever it was they did together. But when he knocked on Sadie’s door, she informed him that they had taken Olivia to the train station and that Olivia was on her way into Boston.

  The first thought Conor had was that she’d somehow found out about Kevin Ford, that she wouldn’t have to testify and that their past four days together had been stolen time. He knew in his heart he shouldn’t have lied to her and the guilt had been killing him. He’d wanted to tell her the truth, been tempted to tell her nearly every hour of every day.

  But after that wonderful night on the dining room table, he knew that he couldn’t let her go. She might be able to forgive him for wanting more time, but she might never forgive him for taking advantage of that time. Conor cursed softly.

  He’d always had such a strong moral compass. What had happened to it? Since he’d met Olivia, he’d done things that would have once been unthinkable, bucking department regulations, falling in love with a witness, then deceiving a woman he’d come to love. But he’d done everything for the right reasons, in the hopes that Olivia might want a future with him.

  Charles Street, as always, was bustling with shoppers and workday pedestrians and even a few groups of tourists. Conor double-parked, not even caring that the cops might tow the heap he was driving. He found the front door to Olivia’s shop locked. Peering through the windows, he couldn’t see anything in the dark interior except the shadowy forms of huge pieces of furniture-no movement, no light, nothing.

  His heart slammed in his chest, his instincts on alert, but then he remembered there was no longer any danger. He wouldn’t find Olivia inside, lying in a pool of blood. Keenan had called off his dogs and she had nothing to fear. He pounded on the door and waited impatiently. Sadie had mentioned something about a silver tankard and a special mark. He’d assumed she’d come to the shop, but maybe she’d gone home-or to one of the museums or libraries.

  Conor hammered on the door again with his fist and, a few moments later, he heard a voice coming from inside. “We’re closed,” Olivia called.

  “Olivia, let me in. It’s Conor.”

  An instant later, the door swung open and Olivia stood in the doorway. “Conor!”

  Conor stepped by her and walked into the shop. He glanced around, curious as to what it was she did for a living and impressed by the assortment of antiques in her shop. Even in the dim light he could see the fine quality of the furniture, the careful craftsmanship. This was her world, a world completely unknown to him. Hell, he had a twenty-year-old sofa and a coffee table he’d found in the alley behind his house. He reached over and grabbed the price tag for a huge wardrobe. It cost more than he made in a year.

  “I’m sorry I left,” Olivia said softly. “I-I thought I’d be back before you returned.”

  Conor turned and found her staring up at him, a frightened look on her face. Good grief, she still thought Keenan was after her. And she still believed that what she’d done would bring out his temper. He never, ever wanted to see that look of fear in her eyes again.

  “Please don’t be angry. I was careful,” she said.

  “I’m not angry with you,” Conor replied.

  “I just had to come. I wasn’t sure about the mark but I knew I had a book here to check it out.” She held up the tankard. “I thought I’d never feel this way again, Conor. Every time I remembered what I did for a living, I just got sad and depressed that it was all over. And then I saw this and I got that old feeling.”

&nb
sp; “Feeling?” he asked.

  “It’s like a little flutter in my stomach, a little lurch of excitement. Usually, I try to contain it, to tell myself that I might be too optimistic. But it’s like digging in your garden and discovering gold.”

  “And this is all over a beer mug?”

  Olivia sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. “It’s a silver tankard. And it’s a Revere,” she said, her voice full of awe and wonderment.

  “A Revere? Like Paul Revere?”

  “Not like Paul Revere,” she repeated. “It is Paul Revere. He was a silversmith. His pieces have turned up in the oddest places, buried in peoples’ backyards, hidden in walls. Do you have any idea how much this is worth? There are so few of these that have survived. When an original piece comes on the market, people take notice.”

  Conor stared down at her, the excitement suffusing her face making his guilt more acute. She looked so happy, so alive. She was doing something she loved, excited about the possibilities. He glanced around the shop at all the fancy furniture with the expensive price tags. This was her world. This was where she belonged and he’d kept her from this, from everything she’d loved. “Olivia, we need to talk.”

  “Geraldine was putting flowers in a Paul Revere silver tankard. Do you know what this means? I can put it up for auction and everyone will come to see it here in my shop before it’s sold. The prestige of having this in my shop will do wonders to restore my reputation.” She reached up and placed her palm on his cheek. “Please, don’t be mad at me. I know I took a risk but-”

  “No,” Conor interrupted.

  “No?” Olivia asked.

  “There’s no risk,” he murmured. “That’s what I came here to tell you.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re free,” he said, the words burning in his throat. “Kevin Ford agreed to testify. Ford’s got all sorts of incriminating evidence against Keenan and his whole wiseguy family. They’re all scrambling over each other to see who can be the first to cut a deal. So you’re off the hook.”

  Olivia let out a long breath, then smiled in amazement. “I don’t have to testify?”

  “You don’t have to testify,” Conor murmured.

  With a squeal of delight, she threw herself at Conor and hugged him fiercely. Then she kissed him long and hard until he had no choice but to respond. When she finally pulled back, she was breathless with excitement. “I can’t believe this. It’s all over. I can get back to a real life.”

  A real life, Conor mused. Her words were like a dagger to his heart. A life without him. A life living among her expensive antiques and society friends. “So, I guess this is it,” he said, schooling his voice into indifference. “I can have your things from the condo delivered to your house. And I’ll make sure Tommy gets back home, safe and sound. And once-”

  “You’re talking like we’re never going to see each other again,” Olivia interrupted, her eyes wide, her mouth still damp from the kiss they shared.

  Conor gently set her away from him and stared down into her wide eyes. “Remember that deal we made? The one where we go our separate ways, and then if you still feel something for me in a month, we can talk? Well, I was thinking we should do that. Only not for a month, but maybe for three or four?”

  Conor saw the hurt in her eyes, and he knew he’d caused it, yet he couldn’t take back the words. He hardened his heart and shored up his resolve. Once she went back to her world, she’d forget all about him.

  “I don’t like that deal,” Olivia said stubbornly.

  Conor sighed. She wasn’t going to make this easy. “I’ve been suspended, Olivia. That’s what I found out today at a meeting with my boss. There’s going to be an investigation into my…improper behavior.”

  “You saved my life!” Olivia cried. “How can that be improper?”

  “You were a witness and I exerted undue influence. I developed feelings for you when I knew it was wrong. I ignored departmental procedure. I figure my career with the Boston Police Department is probably over.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Olivia said, reaching out to touch his arm. “I don’t care if you’re a cop or not.”

  “But I do,” Conor said, evading her touch. “Just like this is who you are, a cop is who I am. If I’m not a cop, then I’ve got nothing.”

  “You have me,” Olivia insisted.

  “But I don’t have anything to offer you. Come on, Olivia, at least you should know that much about me. I have to take care of the people I love. I can’t let them take care of me.”

  She blinked once, her gaze fixed on his. “Then you admit it?”

  “Admit what?”

  “You love me,” she said. “And I love you. And we can get through this.”

  Conor shook his head, then cupped her cheek in his hand. He wanted to believe in the truth in her words, but all this had happened so quickly between them. People didn’t fall in love in a week. And those who did usually fell out of love just as quickly. “I have to get through this on my own. And I think you need time to realize that what we had didn’t ever exist in the real world. You live in the real world, Olivia, where people like you don’t socialize with cops.”

  “Please, don’t leave me,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Give it time,” he murmured, taking a step back. The very effort made his heart twist in his chest. Then he turned and walked toward the door. A muffled sob echoed through the shop and he cursed himself for hurting her. But it was better this way. She would hurt for a few days and then she’d realize that she never really loved him at all.

  When he reached the street, he stopped, fighting the urge to go back in and kiss away all his doubts. “Give it time,” Conor murmured as he started toward the car. “Just give it some time.”

  9

  CONOR STOOD outside Quinn’s Pub, staring at the building from across the street. Neon beer signs blazed from the plate-glass windows and Irish music drifted out every time the door opened. His brothers had insisted that he meet them for a drink and he already knew what was going on inside. The pub had played host to many celebrations. Any excuse to hoist a pint or two was welcomed at Quinn’s. But this time, the celebration was meant for Conor.

  Earlier that morning, Detective Conor Quinn’s suspension had been lifted. The investigation into the improprieties in the Red Keenan case had been dropped and he was told to be back on the job the next morning. As far as his superiors cared, he’d been guilty of nothing more than poor judgment. Conor sighed softly, his breath clouding in the cold, damp fog that had fallen over Boston. So that was the end of it. Poor judgment.

  Somehow, it seemed to be an awfully simple explanation for such a complex time in his life. Hell, a little more than three weeks ago, he’d arrived at that cottage on Cape Cod to do a job. And in the process of doing his job, he’d fallen in love with the most incredible woman he’d ever known. He’d spirited her away, safeguarding her life while violating a host of departmental policies and procedures. And even after the danger was over, he’d tricked her into believing that she still needed his protection.

  Poor judgment didn’t even begin to describe his actions over the past few weeks. He’d been crazy, out of his mind, wrapped up in a world that was pure fantasy. Yet here he was, standing in front of Quinn’s, back to his old life and his old ways, ready to spend his evening lost in a bottomless glass of Guinness while he recounted his regrets.

  He’d thought about calling Olivia. The trial had begun and was over within three days, Red Keenan choosing to plea bargain against overwhelming evidence provided by his associates. Kevin Ford had never even had to testify, yet he walked as a result of his own plea bargain. In the end, protecting Olivia had become a moot point and everything that they’d shared now existed in a strange limbo between real life and fantasy.

  Chances were, Olivia had already settled back into her life. He’d once thought he could be a part of that future, but then he’d been hit with the Internal Affai
rs investigation. With his job in jeopardy, Conor had believed that he’d had nothing to offer her. But now that he had his job back, he’d begun to fantasize that maybe they could make it work.

  She’d never really disappeared from his life. Every hour of every day, he thought about her, replaying their time together over and over again in his head, until he could recite their conversations by heart. He’d learned to conjure up an image of her face, a memory of her scent and her taste, the sound of her laughter, by just closing his eyes and allowing his mind to drift.

  At night, when he lay in bed alone, his hands could still feel her silken skin and the soft contours of her naked body molded against his. The memories were so intense that he wondered if they’d ever fade. In truth, he didn’t want them to. He wanted to make more memories, a lifetime full of memories with Olivia.

  Yes, things had changed. But he still couldn’t bring himself to contact her. Hell, she was probably better off without him. Now that she was back to her old life, she probably barely thought of him. And he’d never been the sort to settle down into domestic bliss.

  Conor cursed softly. But he could be. With Olivia in his life, he could be a loving husband and a terrific father. He wasn’t sure how he knew for certain, but Conor was sure he had what it took to make her happy. She’d given him that, a glimpse inside his heart, a realization that he could love-and be loved-without fear. Olivia wasn’t Fiona Quinn, and if they had a life together, he’d never do anything to make her run away.

  He had control, Conor mused. If he wanted to make a relationship work with Olivia, then he could make it work. Conor glanced up and down the street. Suddenly, he needed to see her, to hear her voice and to touch her face. He could make it happen if he just told her how he felt. Conor started toward his car, determined to find her and convince her that he loved her.

  “Damn it!”

  The sound of a voice on the empty street stopped him short. Only then did he notice a woman bent down on the pavement a few cars away. She seemed to be struggling with a tire iron. A few minutes earlier, he might have been glad for a diversion and an excuse not to go inside the pub. Now that he’d decided to find Olivia, he was anxious to leave. But his duties as a cop couldn’t be put aside. If there was a citizen in distress, he was bound to render aid. He hurried over to the spot. Changing a tire. How long could that take? “Can I help?”