“Natalie and Dylan stopped by last night,” he said. “They told us.”
Which only made Shannon feel even guiltier.
Then her mother came into the room, her eyes bright with tears. She wrapped her arms around her daughter’s shoulders. “We were going to come by the hotel to see you today, but this is even better.”
Shannon felt her own throat grow tight as she returned the hug. “Congratulations on your marriage.”
Deborah laughed and released her. “Of all the things that have happened in the past week…” She shook her head and turned to Michael. “I’m guessing you’re the private investigator who saved my daughter’s life.”
Shannon caught the slight grimace, knew he wasn’t comfortable having been cast in the role of the hero. But he offered his hand to her mother, anyway.
“Michael Courtland,” he said.
“Of Courtland Hotels?” Deborah asked immediately.
Michael was less successful in masking the grimace this time. “Yes,” he admitted.
“Please, come in to the dining room,” Ray invited. “We were just about to sit down to a late breakfast.”
“We’re actually on our way to the airport,” Shannon said.
“You’re going back to Chicago already?” The disappointment in her mother’s voice was obvious, causing Shannon another twinge of guilt.
“She has a two-o’clock flight,” Michael said.
“Then you have time for breakfast,” she insisted.
And so it happened that Shannon ended up seated across from Michael at an antique table in Ray’s formal dining room, nibbling on flaky pastries and drinking mimosas made with freshly squeezed orange juice.
She’d expected it would be awkward, but after those initial introductions had been made, it wasn’t. Instead, she found herself drawn into conversation with her mother’s new husband. Even more surprising, she found herself taking an immediate liking to the man, so much so that she was genuinely sorry when Michael said, “It’s almost noon.”
She glanced at the clock, surprised to find that the time had passed so quickly.
“We should go if you don’t want to miss your flight.” It was a question as much as a statement.
She pushed her chair away from the table. “I don’t.”
“You’re welcome to come back and visit anytime,” Ray told her. “We have plenty of room.”
She smiled and thanked him, impulsively hugging him goodbye. Then she went through the same routine with her mother, and finally she and Michael were back in his car, on their way to the airport.
Unlike the scene in the dining room, this was awkward—the silence between them tense and unnatural.
“I didn’t realize you’d bought them a wedding gift,” Michael said at last.
Shannon shrugged. “It seemed the appropriate thing to do. I didn’t expect my mother would get all misty-eyed over a crepe pan.”
“It wasn’t the pan. It was the fact you’d remembered her telling you that Ray makes her crepes for Sunday-morning breakfast in bed.”
“Yeah, it’s become a tradition in the whole six weeks they’ve been together.” But her response lacked the sarcasm she’d intended, because she’d seen how attuned her mom and Ray were to each other.
“I think their relationship proves that time is irrelevant when it comes to love,” he said pointedly.
She shrugged again.
“You didn’t like your new stepfather?”
“I did,” she admitted. “And I think he’ll be good for her.”
“You sound surprised.”
“When she first told me she was getting married—for the fifth time—I didn’t know what to think.”
He turned into the airport parking lot. “I think she deserves credit for having the courage to open up her heart again.”
“Courage?” she said doubtfully.
“I thought you had the same fortitude, the way you seemed to confront obstacles head-on. Escaping from Peart’s yacht, facing him from the wrong end of an automatic, your showdown with A.J.”
He found a vacant spot and steered into it.
“I was furious with you for that. For putting your life in danger. For not trusting me to handle the situation.”
“It wasn’t a matter of trust.”
“Yeah. I finally figured that out.”
She opened her door, stepped out of the car.
He met her at the back of the vehicle. “Although I have to admit I was still stumped as to your reasoning until I had my little chat with A.J. last night.”
“I need my suitcase,” she said pointedly.
“In a minute.” He leaned back against the trunk, folded his arms over his chest. “You went to meet A.J. because she threatened me. And the only reason I could think of for you to risk your life to save mine is that you love me.”
She refused to respond to the challenge in his tone. Instead, she glanced at her watch—a ten-dollar purchase from the discount pharmacy across from the hotel. “I still have to check in and get through security.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then finally turned to unlock the trunk. She exhaled a silent breath as she slung her carry-on over her shoulder.
“I’m not going to chase you, Shannon. And I’m not going to beg. If you don’t have the guts to give us a chance, then you’re not the woman I thought you were.”
She picked up her suitcase. She didn’t hesitate. If she did, she knew that all of her resolve would crumble. “I have to go.”
His gaze was cool and guarded as he took a step back. “Goodbye, Shannon.”
“Goodbye, Michael.”
She held the tears in check throughout the journey back to Chicago. It was only when she was finally at her apartment, inside the familiarity of her own world, that she let herself cry.
She cried tears of relief and regret, but mostly she cried because she knew Michael was right. She was a coward. She loved him, more than she would have thought possible, but she was too afraid to let him know. Too afraid to give him the chance to break her heart.
Only now could she acknowledge that by walking away she’d broken it all by herself.
She was being watched.
Shannon fussed with the train of Natalie’s dress, straightened her veil and tried to shake the feeling that prickled the hairs at the back of her neck.
It was the same feeling she’d had on the beach in Florida a few weeks earlier, a feeling she’d disregarded as paranoia. Only later had she found out that her fear was valid, that Michael had been watching her for Dylan. And Peart had been watching Michael watching her.
But Peart was dead, A.J. was in jail, and Michael…
Her heart gave a little sigh of longing.
A sigh she hadn’t realized she’d let escape until Natalie turned around. “Is everything okay, Shan?”
She forced a smile. “Everything is just about perfect. My little sister is married to the man she loves—a man who loves both her and her son. Mom and her new husband are here to celebrate the occasion, and I’m actually starting to think that Ray might be the right man for her.”
“I didn’t think you believed in ‘the right man’ theory,” Natalie said.
Shannon shrugged and picked up her glass of champagne. “It’s hard to remain a skeptic when I can see how happy she is—how happy you are.”
“What about you?”
“I’m fine.” She forced another smile, hoping that if she said it often enough, she’d start to believe it.
“Have you seen Michael since you left Florida?”
Trust Natalie to zoom right in on the topic she least wanted to discuss.
Shannon shook her head, keeping the smile firmly in place.
No, she hadn’t seen him or heard from him. It had been three weeks—which was three times longer than they’d actually been together—and she couldn’t stop thinking about him. And she was frustrated by this inability to get over her infatuation.
Because she knew now that
what she felt for Michael was nothing more than infatuation. She’d overreacted to an emotionally charged situation and mistakenly interpreted her feelings. Logically she knew it couldn’t be love.
And yet, after three weeks, he continued to interfere with her thoughts and haunt her dreams. Her heart continued to ache. Logical or not, she was beginning to suspect that her feelings for him went a lot deeper than she wanted to admit.
“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Natalie asked gently. Then, as if anticipating her sister’s response, she continued, “You can deny it. You can even move across the ocean and pretend it doesn’t exist, but you can’t change what’s in your heart.”
“Why is it that everyone thinks they know my feelings better than I do?”
Natalie lifted a perfectly arched brow. “Everyone?”
“You. Mom. Michael.” Shannon swallowed another mouthful of champagne.
“He knows you’re in love with him?”
She set the half-empty glass down. “He thinks I’m in love with him.”
“Is that why you were in such a hurry to leave Miami?”
“I left because I had a plane to catch.”
“And it would have been completely impulsive and irrational to have changed those plans,” Natalie guessed.
“What’s the point in making plans if you don’t intend to follow through with them?” Shannon countered reasonably.
“I had a plan when I moved to Fairweather,” Natalie admitted. “To build a career and make a home for my son. I didn’t want anything else, least of all the complications of a relationship.
“Then I met Dylan. I tried to deny the attraction between us. I was determined, for once in my life, to be like you—rational and reasonable and responsible.”
She smiled at the memory. “My determination was no match for the chemistry. And although it hasn’t been all champagne and roses, there’s no denying that he’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
The heartfelt emotion in her sister’s voice brought tears to Shannon’s own eyes. Or maybe it was the mention of champagne and roses and the memories of the first night she’d spent at the Courtland Hotel with Michael.
“It scared me, at first,” Natalie continued. “The way I felt about Dylan. I knew that if I gave him my heart, I would be giving him the power to break it. I didn’t know I would also be giving him the power to heal it.”
Shannon blinked away the moisture in her eyes as the lights dimmed and the band launched into the opening notes of the first song. She saw Dylan moving toward them, the love he felt for his bride shining clearly in his eyes, and her heart gave another little sigh. “If I never said it before, I’m really glad you left Chicago.”
Natalie’s smile was brilliant as she accepted her husband’s outstretched hand. “Me, too.”
Shannon watched them walk hand in hand to the dance floor. Both her sister and brother-in-law had taken circuitous routes to get to this point, both had valid reasons for being wary of making such a commitment. Natalie had been a twenty-four-year-old law student when she got pregnant by a man who’d failed to tell her that he already had a family, and Dylan’s first wife had been pregnant with their child when she was brutally murdered. Yet somehow, despite the obstacles in their paths, Natalie and Dylan had found their way to each other, and found a way to carve a new path together.
It takes courage to open up your heart despite having had it broken before.
Did she have that kind of courage? Was she willing to risk her heart again?
She’d walked away from the man she loved rather than admit her feelings because she was afraid to let herself be vulnerable, afraid that he might hurt her. Instead of taking a chance, she’d packed her suitcases and bought a plane ticket to France. As if a job in Paris might somehow compensate for everything that was missing from her life. As if seeing the Eiffel Tower could make her forget about Michael.
She knew now that nothing would make her forget, and not even moving to Paris would stop her from loving him.
She waited until the song was finished then intercepted the newlyweds on the dance floor. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “But I have to go.”
“Go?” Dylan queried.
Natalie’s brows drew together. “Now?”
“Yes,” she responded to both of their questions.
“But—oh.” Whatever her sister saw in Shannon’s eyes must have revealed her intentions, because Natalie abandoned her protest and smiled. “Go.”
“I am sorry, but—”
“No,” Natalie interrupted. “No apologies. Just be happy.”
Shannon managed a tremulous smile. “I think maybe I will be.”
She lifted the long skirt of her taffeta gown and hurried toward the doors, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
Oh God—she was doing it again. Acting on impulse, not stopping to think of the consequences. But she’d spent the past few weeks thinking, and nothing had changed.
She burst through the French doors and onto the patio, skidding to a halt on the flagstones.
He was there.
Michael.
Leaning against the stone wall that marked the perimeter of the patio, a flute of champagne in his hand.
“In a hurry to catch another plane?” he asked.
“No. I, um…” She clamped her jaw shut as her brain scrambled to find the words. Any words. “I was on my way to find you.”
“Why?”
She couldn’t read anything in his tone or his body language. He sounded casual, completely relaxed, while everything inside her was twisting into intricate knots.
“Because I, um, realized there was something I forgot to tell you.”
Finally he set down his glass and moved toward her. Some of her tension started to ease as he took her hands in his, linking their fingers together.
She took a deep breath and finally said, “I love you.”
He started to speak, but she didn’t give him a chance to respond.
“And,” she hurried on, knowing that if she didn’t put all of her feelings on the line right now, her courage might falter, “I owe you an apology.”
“An apology?” He lifted a brow.
She took a deep breath. “I said I trusted you, but I didn’t. Not completely.
“I trusted you with my life, unconditionally, but not with my heart. Loving you, being loved by you, required a leap of faith I just wasn’t ready to take.
“Part of that stems from the failure of my first marriage,” she admitted. “I’d put my heart on the line once before and I was terrified to do so again.
“Not because you’re anything like Doug,” she said quickly. Although she might have worried about that at first, she’d spent enough time with Michael to know it wasn’t true. The only similarities between her ex-husband and this man were superficial. “But because I love you so much more than I ever loved him.
“When I fell in love with him, I was young and more than a little naive. Easily dazzled by his charm and sophistication, too trusting to see through his empty promises.
“What I feel for you is so much sharper and deeper. It’s a need that goes straight through my soul.”
She tipped her head to look up at him, hoping she could somehow make him understand. “Loving someone that much is a terrifying feeling.”
His lips curved slowly. “I know.”
He did know, she realized, because he loved her the same way. And, as her bruised and battered heart began to heal, she knew her sister was right.
“Are you going to let me off the hook that easily?” she asked softly.
He tugged her closer, letting go of her hands to loop his arms around her waist. “I don’t think the last few weeks have been easy for either of us.”
“I can’t begin to tell you how miserable I’ve been since I said goodbye to you.”
His lips feathered over her temple. “Do you want to know how I’ve spent my time since I left you at the airport in Miami?
”
“How?”
“Trying to talk myself out of being in love with a woman who obviously wasn’t my type.”
She pulled back. “That’s hardly flattering.”
“I was annoyed with you for walking away so easily and taking my heart with you. So I tried to convince myself that I was better off without you, that a relationship between us never could have worked out, anyway.
“And I realized you really weren’t my type.” He smiled again. “Which is probably why you are exactly the right woman for me.”
“Is there supposed to be some kind of logic in there somewhere?” she asked.
“None of the other women I’d dated ever made me feel a fraction of the passion you’ve brought to my life,” he explained. “And I don’t just mean physical passion, I mean passion for life and for living. You stand up to me, you challenge me, and you inspire me.”
He slid his hands up her back, drawing her close again, closer. “I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you.”
Then finally he lowered his head and kissed her. Softly, slowly, but with a devastating thoroughness and depth of emotion that made her tremble.
“I’ve missed you, Shannon.”
“I missed you, too,” she admitted. “I missed you before I even got on that plane. But I was determined to walk away, determined to stick with the plans I’d made for my life.”
“And now?” he asked.
She felt the nerves jumping in her belly, but she was determined to put it all on the line. Not just her love, but her hopes and her dreams for a future with Michael.
“I still want to go to Paris,” she said.
“I could live in Paris.”
She was surprised by his quick response, more surprised to realize it was obviously something he’d already considered. “You’d move to France?”
“I’d move anywhere to be with you,” he told her.
She didn’t doubt that he meant it, and she was awed by the depth of love that would allow him to make such an offer. A depth of love equaled only by that in her own heart.
“I said I want to go to Paris, not move to Paris. I was thinking we could spend our honeymoon there.”
Dangerous Passions Page 22