Honor on the Cape

by M. K. Meredith

  And it would have hurt a helluva lot less.

  He rubbed the ache in his chest as he took in the sight of the only woman he’d ever loved.

  To say the years had been kind to her was an understatement. Blayne looked more gorgeous than ever. Even with the pain in her expression that she so desperately tried to hide every time she glanced in his direction.

  He cleared his throat. “I can see that.” His voice still came out in a husky declaration.

  She stared at him as if contemplating how to kill him, then turned away.

  He didn’t take his eyes off her, drinking in every inch of flesh he’s missed over the years.

  He’d always been a selfish bastard, and regarding this woman, worse than most.

  And here he was again.

  Returning to Cape Van Buren to fulfill and reclaim the love of his life was loaded with risk. Especially since it had been that sense of duty and his selfish tunnel-focus on success that had cost him her love in the first place. But he hadn’t counted on crashing headfirst into her on the very day he moved home.

  Holding the woman who’d haunted his dreams for over a decade in his arms once again had been worth the pain of their earlier mishap.

  “You’ve been busy.”

  She spared him a fraction of a glance over her shoulder, then turned to face him head-on. “That’s what people do.”

  His low chuckle had her tensing so tight that anyone else would have snapped, but not his Blayne.

  Ryker had reached out to him about teaming up with a local businesswoman to ensure a successful launch of the Archer Conservation Park of Cape Van Buren, and when he found out it was her, he couldn’t refuse.

  Now here she was, even more stunning than the night he’d witnessed her washing a beer down with a shot of whiskey at the Blue Loo Pub during his graduation trip to Ireland. That night, life as he knew it had changed forever.

  He swallowed hard, ignoring the unbearable feeling of his heart crumbling under the weight of accusation in her stare. The precision in her arched brows and the crystal-clear seafoam green of her eyes had always ignited a fire in him like nothing else.

  At the same time his heart was dying, his damn dick was rising to an occasion that had no chance of happening.

  He put a real effort in keeping his gaze latched on hers, but the temptation was too great, and he took in the miles of toned thighs that popped out from a derby skirt that had the letters XXX on the front and back.

  She had a tattoo on the outside of her left thigh of a Celtic knot weaved with yellow roses—her late mother’s favorite flower—and dripping with ivy. He’d spent many nights tracing the design with his tongue. Nothing had ever tasted so good.

  Fucking-A.

  Ryker yanked open the refrigerator door and peered inside. “What can I get you, Jay? Want a beer?”

  He slid onto a stool at the large island with the white granite top. He forced himself to act like nothing was wrong when it was about as wrong as it could get. Guilt slithered its way up his spine to sit like a lead brick on his shoulders, making the considerable weight of regret grow even heavier. It was going to be a long time before he’d be able to walk free of it. If ever.

  Popping the top off two beers, Ryker took in the group with an uncharacteristic grin. Married life must have given the man permanent beer goggles because he was oblivious to what was going on here.

  “This partnership will be easier than we thought with the two of you already knowing each other.” He nudged Larkin. “And you were worried.”

  His wife visibly blanched, watching Blayne with worried eyes. She knew every incriminating detail of the day Jay left—and then some.

  “Partnership?” Blayne ground out while she bent at the waist to unlace her skates. The round profile of her fishnet covered ass peeked out from her skirt with her efforts, leaving him to shift in his seat once again. If she kept it up, he’d be permanently chafed.

  Jay exhaled roughly. Man, this was going to be a long couple of months. He owed Ryker, he owed the Astor family name, and most of all, he owed Blayne.

  It was time to pay up his debts.

  But more than any of it, he was determined to win her back no matter how hard it was to face the woman he’d exchanged for a taste of success.

  He’d jumped at the opportunity to attend university abroad while helping expand the family investment business into Europe, setting a precedent as the youngest on the team, and showing he was more than just an heir. He was a leader like his father.

  The moment he’d been tempted, he knew she’d deserved better than an ass like him. And the morning he’d woken up back in Europe, he’d realized leaving her in the states was a grave mistake.

  But after what he’d done, it had been too late to ask her to take him back. Not until he could stand on his own two feet and prove that leaving had been worth something, be a success in his own right instead of simply because he held the Astor name.

  “You always did like to do things on your own. It’s good to see that hasn’t changed,” he said.

  She stilled for a moment, then unlaced the second skate. She slid them both off, stepping down to the floor and a height that would have been less intimidating in any other female. But not her. She was fierce.

  Now to remind his brain of that fact because the sight of her in bare feet ignited every protective instinct deep inside, catching him off guard. Especially since she’d only ever needed protecting from the likes of him.

  With a lift to her pert little chin, she slid onto a stool, so close he felt the heat of irritation radiating from her skin. No doubt, it was the last place she wanted to be. Tough and stubborn. That was his Irish warrior, his Bean laoch. He’d called her Bean ever since learning Bean laoch meant “woman warrior” in Gaelic.

  She’d kick him for that thought, too.

  “Enough of the small talk. What’s going on, Ryker? The last time we spoke, I was launching the center. I’ve the skill and the experience. And you know it.” She glared through impossibly long lashes.

  Jay dipped his chin. “And I have the financial knowledge to ensure the sustainability of your plan.”

  She scoffed. “Knowledge I can attain. I’m not without connections.”

  “Neither am I,” Ryker pointed out, nodding toward Jay. “What’s the problem?”

  Jay and Blayne ignored him.

  “You always were so headstrong,” Jay said, watching her eyes flash with a memory. Her stubbornness had turned him on, and he used to push her on purpose just to get a reaction out of her way back when. A reaction he’d then had the immense pleasure of helping her burn off.

  She turned her head slowly and pinned him with a look. An explosion was coming, and he was primed and ready for it. In fact, he welcomed it, anything to relieve the guilt, the wanting, to distract him from the need to yank her into his arms and beg for forgiveness.

  Looking from Larkin to Ryker then to him, she jerked in a breath. “Fine.”

  “What?!” Jay and Larkin said together.

  Apparently, he wasn’t the only one expecting a fight.

  She spread her hands wide on the pristine white granite. “It’s the last Friday of April, the launch is in four weeks. I can handle anything for that long. What’s important is this center, Archer’s memory, and what this will do for Cape Van Buren. Not my feelings.”

  She turned toward him and held his gaze until something shifted in hers. A cold, empty void. “And certainly not yours.”

  Her berry red lips formed each word, but he couldn’t believe his ears. Blayne MacCaffrey never gave in.

  And then the truth of it all slammed him upside the head once again.

  The woman he was determined to win back wasn’t giving in, she was declaring war.

  Chapter 2

  After a night of tossing and turning, Blayne yawned and dragged the white primer-dipped paintbrush over the dark stripes of the Van Buren front parlor like an eraser. If only there was a primer she could use on the decisi
ons of her eighteen-year-old self who’d been blinded by love and deafened by youth.

  Youth should be added to the DSM for psychological disorders. Delusional didn’t even begin to describe the ego-fueled declarations of certainty she’d shouted at her da back then. He’d warned her that there was no honor in her and Jamie’s actions, but she hadn’t listened.

  She hadn’t cared.

  She’d loved Jamie. And it was a feeling unlike anything she’d ever experienced in her life. All-encompassing, all-knowing, with a happy ever after that would last an eternity.

  She dragged the brush in the opposite direction, forever blotting out another section of the navy-and-eggplant stripe.

  He’d loved her, too. She never doubted it.

  But not enough. Not like she’d loved him. And even if he had, it didn’t make it any easier to remember the pain of watching him walk out the door of their tiny little apartment. She’d begged him to stay, resulting in a humiliation so great she’d promised herself never again. Then she’d screamed at him, even giving him an ultimatum that if he left to never come back.

  Just as her da had given her.

  She closed her eyes against the pain of it all.

  Her anger toward Jamie had been fueled by despair, fear, and heartbreak. Another awful combination for decision-making.

  Neither of them had shown honor that day either. It had been a bad pattern from the start.

  And now her first love, her only love, was back in town.

  The painful irony was that it was moments like this that she needed her Da. How many times had he held her close after some bloke had broken her tender heart as a teen? Too many times to count.

  He’d rub his big hand over her hair, his deep voice a rumbling whisper. “Ya know, Blayney, yer very special. It’s hard for a young lad to know how ta handle a lass like you. I think ya scare ‘em, I do. Ya need a strong lad, an exceptional one that sees how brilliant a feisty spirit like ya have is. So be patient. He’ll come.”

  He’d always seemed to be so sure that her naïve little heart believed every word. And just like that, she’d hop back on her feet.

  He’d been right. The right boy had come and then left.

  Now she had to work with him.

  Unless she could change Larkin’s mind.

  “When did Claire say she’d be by?” Larkin asked as she poured primer into her plastic paint pan.

  Claire Adams completed their little trio. Having been targeted by Larkin’s need to heal after losing her son, Archer, the woman had never stood a chance against being brought into their fold. It had been Clair’s fiancé and Larkin’s husband in the accident that made them both lose too much. And Larkin had been determined to make sure something good came out of such loss.

  Blayne stepped away from the wall and her musings and set her brush down. Tightening the yellow bandana to keep her hair out of her face, she glanced at the grandfather clock in the foyer. “After lunch. That’s last I heard anyway. By the way, we need to put tarps or sheets or something on these floors to protect against paint spills.” She buried her hands in the front pockets of her overalls and strategized on how to best broach the subject. “Listen…”

  Larkin dropped her brush into her bucket then, abandoning her painting post, turned to face her. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I was afraid if I told you Ryker’s idea of a partner, you’d back out completely. But I swear I had no clue Jay was your Jamie!”

  Blayne pressed her lips together in an effort to smile. “I know. No one called him Jamie but me. I never imagined he still had ties here. I mean, his family has a home on the edge of town, but they rarely used it even back then. They spent most of their time abroad and at their home in New York City.”

  Larkin released a nervous breath and gave her an imploring look. “I know it’s selfish of me, but I need you on this project. Archer needs you on this project.”

  She stilled. “That was a low blow.”

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures and all that?” Larkin wrung her hands together, then stepped close. “Besides, I think this is a good thing.”

  “A good thing?” She could barely get her words out; her jaw was clamped so tight.

  “You need to work through this so you can finally move on. It’s been ten years.”

  “I moved on a long time ago,” she huffed.

  “The hell you have. Tell me one guy you’ve dated more than a week? You make a one-night stand look like a commitment.”

  The judgment burned in her chest. “Wow. Are you bleedin’ mad? Since when do you care who I sleep with?”

  Larkin grabbed her arm with a shake. “That is not what I meant, and you know it. I don’t care how many people you sleep with, or who. I’m talking about a connection deeper than the length of a man’s dick.”

  Blayne blinked. Did Larkin really just say that?

  Her friend crossed her arms over her chest a blush raced to her hairline. “Yeah, I said it, and I’ll say more. You told me once that you worried I’d stopped living. Well, I worry about you, too. You have a wicked huge, fierce, and loving heart, but you won’t let anyone in.”

  “I haven’t met anyone worth letting in. Besides, what’s the point when I need to go home?”

  Larkin’s sigh was heavy.

  Blayne would miss her, too. But she’d been away from her family for far too long. And with the conservation project, she’d finally feel worthy of going home.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to change your mind and history has taught me that if I push too hard, it only makes you push back harder.”

  Blayne smirked. “Takes one to know one.”

  Larkin stuck her tongue out. “I was grieving.”

  An image of Archer with his blond hair and dimpled grin immediately filled Blayne with a heavy ache. She didn’t know how her friend had found the strength to move ahead after he’d died, but with a lot of love and cherished memories, Larkin was turning the death of her five-year-old little boy into a bright light for their community.

  She was in awe of her.

  “Besides, I didn’t stand a chance with you and Maxine at me all the time.” Larkin laughed, but gratitude glowed from the depths of her green eyes. “And now I have Ryker and this little bundle.” She slowly rubbed the round expanse of her growing belly.

  “At first, I was grieving, too. In a different way of course. One based in rejection and strengthened by broken dreams and loneliness.”

  Larkin shook her head. “It makes me so angry to think of what he did to you. Bringing you here and then leaving you all alone was cruel.”

  With a nod, Blayne walked to her paint and brush. “I was devastated. Which is why I don’t want to work with him. You have to change Ryker’s mind.”

  “I explained everything to him, but this launch is too important, and the donor program is what will keep it running.”

  Blayne’s heart squeezed painfully. “Larkin, you have to.” She stepped toward her. “I can’t do this. I—”

  “But you just said you weren’t willing to lose this opportunity.”

  “It was just something to say!” Panic raised her voice. She grabbed her brush, then spun back to her friend. “I will make this launch a success. I have as much riding on this as you, maybe more.”

  “I know, but the donor—”

  “Guarantees the center’s future. I got it.” She shook the brush in the air as emphasis. “And when I say I got it, I do. I can handle the donor program and the launch.”

  Larkin waved at her. “Be careful.”

  “I’m always careful. I’d never put the center in jeopardy.”

  “Not the launch, the floor!” Larkin lunged. “You’re dripping all over the place.”

  Slow to catch on, Blayne stared at her friend. What the hell? The paint drips slowly came into focus. “Shit.” She stepped away, bumping the small ladder that held her paint pan.

  “No!” Larkin’s eyes shot wide, as she grabbed the brush.

  The pan tee
tered and Blayne twisted to get a hold of the plastic tray.

  “Catch it!”

  The pan slid. Blayne grabbed the edge, but paint sloshed forward, and she jerked the pan up to stop the flow. The opposite edge dropped from the ladder top. Shoving her other hand under the falling side, she slowed its descent but lost her balance, taking the paint tray with her.

  Landing hard on her butt, she steadied the pan, victorious with only a small dollop of white primer next to her on the floor. “Phew!”

  Larkin grinned. “That was close.”

  “You’ve got that right!”

  Just then the front door slammed. “What the hell happened in here?”

  The familiar voice was still jarring to her nerves. With her emotions high, she flinched, losing her grip on the pan.

  “Shit!” She swore as the primer poured all over her abdomen and onto the floor.

  Jamie stood over her, his broad shoulders covered by a gray Henley and an annoying as fuck grin on his face. “Is this going to be a habit with you?” He squatted next to her.

  The heat of him immediately enveloped her in a warm, familiar haze that was both heaven and hell. And despite everything, her chest constricted as the object of her frustration stared down at her, crowding her space.

  The image of him leaving her all alone filled her vision, and her paint covered fingers twitched against the pain of betrayal that flooded her heart. In a reflex of self-preservation, she pressed her hands to his face and dragged the paint from his thick hair to his chiseled chin.

  Jay sputtered through the shock and awe of Blayne’s paint assault and reared back. Losing his balance, he landed on his ass—hard—his body splayed out like a fool with two women laughing louder than his frat brothers did the night of the full moon streak when they’d locked him out of the house.

  Shoving up from the floor, he grabbed a towel from their work table. “You two are hilarious.” He swiped at the paint, failing to keep from staring at Blayne as she bent to clean up the mess from the tiled floor. He remembered those overalls, or at least ones she used to have just like them. She’d tease him by wearing them around the apartment with nothing underneath.