Surprised, she took a step back, stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn’t reached out to grab her shoulders. “Hey, steady there.”
For a moment they stood one step apart, his head only inches from hers. The flecks in his eyes shimmered in the sunlight. His hair, as light as Robbie’s had been dark, fell straight and thick like a gold curtain. Her breathing grew shallow. Afraid to look into those eyes for reasons she couldn’t explain, she stared instead at the tanned V bared by the button down shirt he wore tail out over shorts, sleeves ripped off at the shoulders. Staring at the hard muscles of his chest didn’t help her catch her breath.
His sheer physical magnetism was overpowering. When she’d first seen him lashing the boat to the dock yesterday, she’d been mesmerized by the hard ridges of his back, aglow with the sheen of sweat. His muscles had bunched as he’d tugged on the mooring line, and her tongue had stuck to the roof of her mouth. Well, why wouldn’t it? He hadn’t become a superstar because he looked like a toad.
Suddenly restless, she met his gaze. His eyes were soft, serious. His hands still lay on her shoulders, fingers long and warm against her bare skin. Her muscles shivered, then relaxed. Only Robbie’s touch had ever been so… well, lover-like, but this was different. This was— Warmth blossomed in her belly. She realized she was leaning into his hands.
Annoyed at herself, she stepped out of his reach. “You scared me.”
His eyes flashed, then grew still. But he only bent and picked up the clippers. Handing them to her, he said quietly, “I’m sorry. Is there somewhere we can talk?”
Without a word, she turned and led him to a crumbling concrete bench a few yards away in a copse of dogwoods. She settled on one end and put the clippers on the seat right next to her. His mouth twitched, and he settled further away. The bench was chill under her legs, and she wished something would equally cool the heat in her face. She turned toward him but carefully kept her eyes off his eyes, the V of his shirt and the smooth muscles of his bare thighs.
He motioned toward the cabin. “Roy drove me over. I wanted to talk to Mari—”
“She’s still asleep. When she wakes, she’ll be hungover.” Her voice held accusation, even though she knew that wasn’t his fault.
He acted like he hadn’t heard. “—and to you. I’m at a loss over how to thank you.”
“No thanks are necessary.”
“Yes. They are. If it wasn’t for you, Michael would’ve drowned. Every time I think—”
At the intensity in his voice, she glanced at him. He’d gone pale.
“Then, don’t,” she said, looking away. Michael’s face as he lay sprawled on the float rose in her mind, blue-tinged, too quiet. Unconsciously, she reached to toy with the clippers, turning them over and over in a dull thunk-thunk against the concrete. “Don’t think.” Don’t think about it, don’t dwell on it, go about your daily routine and don’t let the images in.
His hand covered hers, stilling her movements. Her body stilled, too, as though waiting. She drew in a sharp breath. She didn’t need this feeling again, didn’t want it, especially from some egomaniacal, perverted, country superstar who didn’t even have the foresight to slap a life jacket on a rollicking five-year-old Ninja.
“I want to do something for you,” he said. She looked at him again. In the shade, his eyes were darker, more feral. “Something special. Is there anything you want? Anything you need? I can—”
Without warning, anger rose like a fist in her throat. She snatched her hand away. “Who do you think you are?”
He drew back as though she’d hit him. She’d like to. She gripped the edge of the bench instead. “Have a lonely daughter? Buy a few books. Need to entertain them? How about a few hundred acres at a resort. Almost lose a son? No problem, buy the gal who saved him a present and ease your conscience. What did you promise Sam? The moon? Good God. Kids need a mother? Buy one of those, too.”
She jerked to her feet, faced him, amazed at the depth of her rage. “When I first set eyes on your children yesterday, my heart cried, do you hear me? If ever there was a case of poor little rich kids, it’s them. It’s obvious your daughter is neglected. She’s starved for affection from anyone, even a stranger. And your son acts up because it gets him attention. Being yelled at is better than being ignored. Yesterday, his bid for attention and your neglect almost cost him his life. Can’t you see they need you? Not a nanny, not a bunch of hangers-on, not a floating palace. You.”
Jon had risen more slowly and watched her open-mouthed. Now his fists clenched, his eyes narrowed. “For someone with no kids, you’re quite the ace all of a sudden.”
“A day on your boat made me an expert!” She realized she was yelling. She hadn’t yelled since she didn’t know when. She hadn’t felt so alive, so aware, so mad, in ages—and it felt good. Really good. “It’s no wonder you almost had a disaster. You stick them on that boat with no life jackets and only some simp of a woman to watch them while you and your buddies carouse with your bimbos—”
“I wasn’t carousing with any—”
“—the music turned up so high you couldn’t hear yourself scream. You all get drunk, you get my sister drunk—”
“I wasn’t drunk. And I didn’t pour beer down your sister’s throat.”
“—and then you expect to buy a clean conscience with a present for me? I’ll tell you what you can do for me. You can retract that vile proposal you made to Mari. And then you can go to hell!”
They both fell silent. Jon studied her and she eyed him. Tiger eyes, dangerous and unreadable. She crossed her arms. He was tense as stone.
Suddenly his body loosened. He shook his head, then slipped a thumb into his pocket and laughed. “I probably will rot in hell. But not yet. Tell you what I’ll do for you. I asked your sister to marry me for a reason—a good one—and I’m not ready to drop the whole idea.” She shifted with frustration and he held up a hand. “Hear me out. I’ll tell her I’ve changed my mind,on one condition.”
“What?”
“That you marry me instead.”
For a moment, she just stared at him. Then she thumped her hands onto her hips. “Of all the—I just can’t believe you’d—” she sputtered, unable to complete a thought.
Amusement gleamed in his eyes, amusement and determination. He put a finger to her chin and tilted her head up. She couldn’t read what was in his eyes, but his expression was odd. No longer angry but not compassionate, just… odd.
He smiled. “I’ll go chat with Roy. Take a few minutes to make up your mind.” He dropped his hand and strolled—strolled!—toward the cabin.
“I don’t need a few minutes! The answer is—” He kept going and didn’t look back.
She whirled around, picked up the clippers and hurled them at a tree. Then she stalked in circles around the bench. “Of all the—” She imagined his face. She imagined punching his face. “You-you arrogant, conceited idiot. You manipulative, conniving rat. If you think that for one minute, I’d even consider marrying anyone remotely like you, you must be completely out of your mind. You can just take your indecent proposal and put it-put it somewhere where the sun doesn’t shine, you hear me? Because I’d never, ever—”
Maybe she would.
Aghast, she halted mid-stride, anger fading into amazement, then thoughtfulness. She sank onto the bench and propped her chin on her hand, feeling more clear headed than she’d felt since Henry’s death—since Robbie’s death.
After a few minutes, she heard Jon returning. She straightened, sitting with her ankles crossed and hands clasped to hide their tremble.
A few yards away, he met her cool stare head-on, but his eyes no longer looked dangerous. Instead she detected uncertainty and a hint of… shame? He halted in front of her. “Look. Things got a little heated and I said some things that—”
“I’ll consider your proposal.”
“You’ll—what?”
Her pulse hammered. “I said, I’d consider your proposal.”
Tiger eyes wary, Jon crossed his arms. “Why?”
“I have my reasons. If I decide to do this, I’ll let you know them.”
That charming grin appeared. “I bet you will.”
“But I’ll only consider it if you agree to tell Mari your engagement is off.”
Jon’s eyes veiled, although the smile remained. “I’d be letting one bird go without having the other in hand.”
“That’s the risk you’ll have to take.”
He continued to stare at her, assessing. “No dice. I want your promise first.”
“I—” She couldn’t do it. With his gaze on her like that, she couldn’t tell him a bald faced lie. He’d see right through her. “I’ll give you my answer tomorrow.”
She’d practice tonight, practice looking honest as she promised to marry him, knowing all the while that once he broke off with Mari, she’d pitch his proposal back in his face.
If she wanted to.
She almost gasped at the thought. Of course, she wanted to. She’d take great satisfaction in doing it, too.
CHAPTER TEN
THE SUNSET BATHED the lake in ripples of molten gold. A few cicadas whirred to life in evensong. In the cabin up slope from Lil, country music rolled from speakers placed in a screened window. Van Castle’s Greatest Hits, no doubt. The party that had started with the afternoon’s family picnic shouldered on. Mari’s laugh rang out from the cabin’s deck, just visible through the trees.
Lil trod a path through a stand of bent oaks and emerged on a promontory ten feet above the water. She settled herself on a log. Her denim skirt, chosen mostly because it was less worn than her other clothes, brushed the tops of her canvas shoes. She hugged her knees, stared out over the cove and waited for Jon. Surely he had noticed her nod, signaling him to join her on the promontory. She was ready to give him her answer. Then he’d tell Mari their engagement was off, Lil would laugh in his face and they could all go back to the way things had been before he’d burst into their lives.
Somehow, the thought was dispiriting. Or maybe she just had a bad case of nerves. She’d never tried a whopper like this and had felt nerve-wracked the whole day by the thought of it. Somebody switched off the radio, and more cicadas lifted their voices. A breeze puffed curls into her eyes, and she pressed her fingers briefly to her temples. Her head hurt.
As the water lapped the shoreline, the tension eased a little in her shoulders, and her face relaxed, shedding the polite smile she’d carried all day. She breathed in the summer evening. She loved this place. The whole family loved it.
And, an inner voice whispered, saving it was within her grasp. The muscles in her neck tightened again. But at what cost?
The party welcoming Jonathan Van Castle into the O’Malley family had seemed… normal. Everyone seemed to have forgotten their objections. Just like Robbie, Jon had a winning personality, and he’d conquered them one by one. Now and then, he’d caught her eye with a raised eyebrow, asking her silently when he’d have her answer.
He’d won Patsy Lee’s approval when he played catch with Daisy and talked fishing with Hank. He’d loosened the tension in Alcea’s face when he engaged her in conversation about Kathleen’s schooling. He had even unearthed common ground with Pop, who’d quit smoking himself the year before and recommended Jon chew on an empty pipe like he did. “No calories, you see, son, unlike those suckers you’re using.”
Lil’s heart had clutched. Her father had, of course, called Henry son, and later, Robbie had earned the title. Pop still didn’t use it with Alcea’s husband Stan. His easy acceptance of Jon disturbed her. If she couldn’t call a halt to this nonsense soon, more people than Mari were going to get hurt.
Jon didn’t need to make any efforts with Stan. Alcea’s husband normally stood aloof from the O’Malley clan, uninterested in anyone who wasn’t impressed by the gold chains looping his neck or the cigarette boat he’d thundered to a stop alongside the dock. Today, though, Stan had almost usurped her father’s place as head of the family. He’d clapped Jon on the back, making him stagger, and declared him a more than suitable candidate for his “sweet sister-in-law’s hand.” Behind his back, Mari had stuck out her tongue.
Even Patsy Lee’s shy Rose had fallen for Jon’s easy good humor. When she’d last seen the five-year-old today, Jon had been bouncing her on one knee. Rose’s straight blond hair had flown around her face, and her brown eyes had sparkled with glee.
Lil hadn’t heard Rose laugh since Henry had passed, but today the sound had been sweet music. Even better, the teddy bear the child had given up at three, but had taken to carrying again since his death, lay abandoned on the edge of the deck.
Jon had established a quick, teasing relationship with Zinnia. God, even her mother was acting like today wasn’t some kind of charade. She’d bustled from kitchen to table with bowls of creamy cole slaw, vats of potato salad, crocks of baked beans and layers of Alcea’s chocolate raspberry cake. She headed off words between Alcea and Stan before they dissolved into bickering, whipped out a chef’s apron and fastened it on Zeke, who gamely helped Pop with the barbecue, poked marshmallows on sticks for her grandchildren, “…including the beautiful Miss Melanie and handsome Mr. Michael. Such a big boy. Why, I can’t hardly believe he’s only five years old.”
And she’d completely ignored the fact her youngest daughter was getting increasingly tipsy on wine coolers, flirting with every male in sight, including Jon’s stylist Sidney (an obvious ill-choice) and his business manager Peter (who already had Jon’s secretary Lydia possessively clinging to his arm), while loose-limbed Three-Ring drummed on his knees with a pair of sticks and watched Mari with a glint in his eyes.
Three-Ring had already hit on Lil. It hadn’t offended her; the scruffy drummer was one of those men who flirted with abandon and only shrugged and grinned like a naughty child when he met a rebuff. Harmless really—unless he was given encouragement, which her sister seemed to have in ready supply. So far, though, Three-Ring had kept his distance from Mari, impeded perhaps by the few words she’d seen Jon whisper in his ear. Three-Ring reminded Lil of some of the good ol’ boys who frequented Seamus’s Rooster Bar and Grill, more interested in the game than the conquest.
The only person who’d seemed unimpressed was Seamus. Zinnia considered Robbie’s brother as much a member of the family as any of them, so she’d included him today.
Usually a comfort, today Seamus’s gaze held hostility. Sometimes Lil had watched him watching Jon, who watched her with golden eyes turning grave and appraising while she tried to ignore them both. Her mother had followed these unspoken exchanges, eyes flicking to Jon, then to Lil, then to Jon again. Her face had grown thoughtful. Between Zinnia’s knowing expressions and mother-of-the-bride playacting, Lil didn’t know what had gotten into her.
Or Seamus. After each of these staring matches, Seamus’s attentions to her would grow more marked, Jon’s movements more restless and Lil more uneasy.
Zeke hadn’t been a comfort either. Earlier today, one corner of his mouth had lifted and he’d whispered “You could do a lot worse.” Had he meant, worse than… Jon? He must have. He must know about the proposal Jon thought she’d accept. Somehow, his wry sympathy with Jon’s outlandish proposition made the arrangement seem more defensible. It would be a comfort having him around if she…
Lil rubbed her temples. Could she really be contemplating accepting? Think what that would do to her sister.
Mari’s chortle sounded over the creaking of the dock, and Lil looked up. On the deck, Three-Ring reached out and playfully pulled Mari down on his lap.
But think what Jon’s life would do to her sister. Let loose from the confines of the family and lack of money that kept her in check, Mari wouldn’t resist any excess. If Lil refused Jon after he’d broken his engagement with Mari, would he simply crook his finger in Mari’s direction again? And would Mari be incensed enough with him to turn her back, or would she throw pride to the wind and marry him anyway?
&n
bsp; Lil thought she knew.
Behind her, something rustled in the underbrush. Heart thudding, she twisted toward the sound. But it wasn’t Jon, it was Melanie.
Pulse slowing, Lil smiled. “Get tired of the party?”
“It was nice. And the food was really good.”
Melanie wore faded yellow shorts streaked with barbecue sauce, which matched similar smudges at the corners of her mouth. Lil patted the log, and Melanie joined her. Daisy would have sprawled. Melanie tucked up and rested her chin on her knees.
She glanced at Lil with a shy smile. “I like your family. Especially Daisy and your mom. She’s a great Grandma. And I like Patsy Lee and Hank and little Rose and your funny cabin and… it’s all wonderful.” Her gaze fixed on the horizon. The sun had dipped behind the hillside, bruising the sky purple and pink. She stirred, then whispered, almost to herself. “I don’t want to ever go home. Not ever.”
Startled, Lil looked at her. When she was Melanie’s age, the only place she’d wanted to be was home. Home meant Pop’s bear hugs and Zinnia’s quick affection and homemade oatmeal-raisin cookies. It meant squabbles with her sisters and brother that melted into laughter, songs around the piano and kids—Seamus, Robbie, even Stan—playing hide-and-seek and catching fireflies in mayonnaise jars in the big backyard scented with her mother’s flowers. She couldn’t imagine a better life.
“You don’t miss your home, not even a little?”
Melanie shook her head.
“Not your friends?”
“I don’t have any. We live outside town, you see, and nobody ever comes out there. It’s boring sometimes. It’s lonely.”
“But surely your mother or grandmother are willing to bring out playmates?”
“My grandmother doesn’t drive anymore. And my mom…” Her voice trailed off. “But it doesn’t matter. Nobody at school likes me.”
“Whyever not? You’re a very likable person, you know.”
Melanie gave her another small smile, but it quickly faded. “They think I’m weird. They think I lie when I tell them my dad is Jonathan Van Castle because I wear hand-me-downs. And they call my mom…names.”
SING ME HOME (Love Finds A Home - Book One) Page 10