He’d stopped talking and now eyed her expectantly.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I got distracted for a second.”
“What were you thinking about?” He took a sip of wine.
“I was thinking how much Jack looks like you.”
“He does, doesn’t he?” Liam was actually blushing and in that one moment, Carrie might have been sitting with Jack.
But Liam was here now. He was Jack’s father, and he was back in her life. What that might ultimately mean terrified her, but tonight she wanted to savor the sensation of feeling beautiful and desirable again. The sexual tension was evident in his smoky eyes—a tension that had been intensifying since he kissed her that afternoon.
Was it only five hours ago?
God, how she wanted him. But she needed to set boundaries and find her limits before they went any further. “May I ask you a favor?” The words were out before she could change her mind. She held her breath, watching him closely.
“What?” He seemed cautious, but those eyes promised her anything.
Almost.
“Will you wait until Sunday to see Jack?”
His jaw dropped and he started to object.
Knowing she’d picked the one thing he wasn’t willing to do, she put her hand on his arm. “Please, just listen.”
He nodded, but she could tell he was already closing his mind, so she hurried her explanation.
“I’ve been thinking. I want him to have at least this week before we turn his life inside out. He’s been looking forward to camp all year.”
“Don’t you think there’s a chance he’s been looking forward to meeting his father all his life?” Liam pulled his arm away from her. Standing, he walked over to the railing, staring down into the bay.
Carrie swallowed hard and sat staring at her hands for a long moment before she answered. “Yes, he probably has. But I’m only asking you for one more week—five days, really—and then we’ll tell him. Together.”
“Why?” he asked. “Why not tomorrow?”
Slipping out of her chair, she went to stand beside him. “Because I need to know if we’re going to be able to get along, you and me. If we can’t be in the same room without biting each other’s heads off, how will that affect him?” She hoped he couldn’t hear the tremor in her voice. “I’m sorry, but I can’t—I won’t—throw all this at Jack until we have some sort of understanding. Can we figure us out first?”
“In five days?” His face was unreadable. After a moment, he sighed. “I’m so pissed at you, but dammit, the chemistry is still there. Aside from finding out about Jack, that one thing amazes me most, and frankly, scares the unholy crap out of me. I never imagined seeing you would make me feel like–like this again.” Lifting her chin with one finger, he forced her to face him. “I thought it was all gone. It’s been so long—” He stopped, his eyes boring into hers.
“I know. I’m surprised too.” She closed her eyes against the heat of his gaze. “I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t. Protecting my heart was the goal. I thought it was over, too, but all this—” Palms upward in a helpless gesture, she stammered. “—whatever this is makes it im–impossible for me to think clearly.”
His eyes widened and he raised both hands to cup her face. “God, Carrie,” he whispered.
His mouth came down on hers, soft and gentle at first but the pressure increased when she opened her mouth. Sliding her hands up his chest, she put her arms around his neck as his hands grasped her waist. It was a kiss born of anger, of desperation, of lust, but it didn’t matter. As he hauled her against his hard body, moving his hands to her hips, she wanted to crawl inside his skin. She couldn’t get close enough.
His tongue plunged seeking hers, his fingers tracing each vertebra through the linen of her dress. Her own hands sought his waist, untucking his shirt to find the warm muscles of his back. She needed to feel his skin, and he shivered at her touch as he pressed her hips against the rail. Pulling his mouth from hers, he dropped fierce kisses and tiny nibbling bites on her face, her jaw, her throat.
Too much. No.
The thought surfaced even as her own fingers continued to seek the heated flesh beneath his shirt. He ran his hands over her back, obviously feeling for a zipper, and as she dropped her head back, his tongue drew a path of liquid fire down her neck. She started to guide his hand to the side zipper, but he slid one hand down over her behind, bunching the fabric until he reached the hem. Slipping his hand under it, he found the skin of her thigh, his thumb barely brushing her red satin panties.
His lips claimed hers while he pressed her against the rail, fitting his erection into her belly. Moaning into his mouth, she brought her hands around to his chest, her fingers working the buttons of his shirt. When his other hand moved to her breast, her eyes flew open.
God, oh, God, what am I doing?
Grasping his wrists, she twisted away from him. “Liam, please. Stop.”
He dropped his hands immediately and stepped back, breathing heavily, his eyes dark with emotion.
Smoothing her dress over her hips, she crossed her arms and leaned forward for a moment, trying to catch her own breath. “That’s why we have to sort this out,” she said, taking air in great gulps. “Don’t you see? We have to figure this out or we’re going to have some frustrating months ahead.”
“Months?” He rubbed his face and blinked. “Wait a minute, what are you talking about, months?”
NINE
Carrie wandered to the table, obviously dawdling over a sip of water before she spoke. “You’re gone after the benefit, right? This boat sails out of Willow Bay, and you go back on tour. Back to your life. Then what?”
Breathing heavily, Liam leaned against the rail, struggling to keep a lid on his feelings, which were caught somewhere between dazed and belligerent.
She started again. “Look, we’re two reasonable adults—”
“There’s an arguable point,” Liam interrupted, his heart still hammering.
Barely twelve hours, and she’s already driving me insane.
His groin ached, and her red dress and lovely round breasts distracted him from her words, yet he fought the urge to shake her silly. Turning away, he focused on the water lapping against the Allegro, trying to force the heat to subside while getting the anger under control.
“I don’t see why we can’t make this work,” she said, clearly ignoring his snarky comment. “Thousands of separated parents do it all the time.”
Her words were like ice water dumped over his head. Shoving away from the rail, he crossed the deck in two strides. “Are you suggesting we think of ourselves as… as divorced?” Grabbing the bottle of wine, he splashed some into his glass and swallowed it in one gulp.
“I think that would be best.” Her eyes darted away before meeting his glare head on. “That way you can have time with Jack while you’re here. When you leave, we can both go on with our own lives. Later, if you want to see Jack, we’ll work that out.”
“And we come to some amicable arrangement about visitation and child support?”
“Well... okay, yeah.” She squared her shoulders. “I can call my attorney in the morning. He can draw up whatever papers we need to sign about visitation, and as far as child support goes, no thanks. We don’t need your money.”
Liam watched her for a long moment, hardly believing what he was hearing. He walked away, pacing the length of the deck and back again. Conflicting emotions boiled up in him as he stared across the moonlit lake. He should hate her for keeping Jack from him. He should hate her for dumping him. He should hate himself for still wanting her so desperately.
But he didn’t have any hate inside him. Only anger and confusion and a longing to discover what the future might bring—with both Carrie and Jack.
As a mist rose over the bay, he counted to ten... and then to twenty. Finally, he took a deep breath, and without turning, spoke quietly and in measured phrases.
“Listen to me. No lawyers. No p
apers to sign. No talk about visitation rights. Because I don’t intend to give up my son before I even meet him.” He spun around, heading for her with purpose. “What’s more, I have no intention of giving you up, either. We’re going to find out what could have happened if you hadn’t run away.” He took her shoulders in his hands, struggling to be gentle.
“Rehashing the past isn’t going to accomplish anything.” The conviction in her words made him tug her around to face him. “We’ve both changed so much. We’re older, wiser—”
“Wiser?” Liam would have laughed had she not been so absurd. “You’re not one single moment wiser, Carrie. The naïve girl I met in Montreal has become a damn recluse—closed up in a box. Where’s all that glorious passion and curiosity I fell in love with?”
Trembling, she twisted away from him, anger flashing copper glints in her eyes. She stood there trembling, silent.
“Once upon a time, you were brave—brave enough to audition for the Ecklund Competition. Brave enough to agree to come to Europe with me. But you lost it somewhere. How? Hell, you couldn’t even work up the courage to tell me I had a son. You made all the choices for both of us.” His laugh was harsh and guttural to his own ears, but he’d stopped caring how he sounded to her. “Well, baby, guess what? I’m back and it’s my turn. I’m opening up the box.”
“You self-righteous son of a bitch.” Carrie’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “How dare you make judgments about my life? About my choices? You have no idea who I am or what I’ve become.” Her rage must have calmed the trembling. Now she seemed just plain infuriated. “Frankly, I think this is all about your ego. You’re pissed because I left. I wasn’t there drooling all over you. I wasn’t hanging around backstage, waiting for you to grace me with ten minutes of your very expensive time before the next performance. Excuse me if I haven’t lived the glamorous, exciting life you have all these years, Maestro. I had a child to raise!”
“You made the choice to do that alone,” he retorted. Shock and hurt filled Liam as she continued mercilessly, clearly unable to stop the flow of angry words.
“Jack and I were never going to fit into the image you and Marty spent so much energy creating. And I knew it. I wasn’t as stupid and naïve as you seem to think I was. I did what I had to do given the circumstances and—” She stopped suddenly, then drew a deep breath. “I’m willing to let you get to know Jack. But you and me? Not happening. We need to stay separate because I still won’t fit into your world.”
“Jesus!” He grabbed the wine bottle with unsteady fingers. Liquid sloshed in the bottom as he pulled his arm back and threw it furiously over the rail where it fell with an unsatisfactory plop into the bay.
Swallowing hard, he smacked his hand on the table. “Good God, woman. This morning, I only wanted to get to know you again, that was all.” He pointed an accusing finger. “Jack had no part in it. I didn’t even know he existed. This is notabout my ego—at least not the way you think. I guess I needed know what happened to us. And because you”he lowered his voice“you never left my mind—not once in all those years. And trust me, I tried damn hard to get rid of you.” He picked up her wineglass, drained it, and wiped his hand across his mouth. Shoving his fingers into his hair, he dropped heavily onto the bench by the rail.
* * * *
Too emotionally exhausted to speak or move, Carrie stared at him in disbelief. Had she truly been on his mind all this time?
Damn him for saying that!
Now how was she ever going to tell him about Marty and the money? If he’d known, he would’ve forgotten her in a heartbeat. Dear God, had they really had the same fantasies? Somehow being angry at him was easier than wanting him so desperately. She was afraid to say anything. Afraid everything—the whole truth—would come pouring out and then he’d truly hate her. Afraid she’d throw herself into his arms. Afraid she’d never have another clear thought again.
Liam sighed. “Okay, Carrie, maybe I don’t know you now. But you have to give me that same point. You think you know who I am because you’ve watched PBS or read People magazine or some saw some website or heard a backstage interview on NPR.” He exhaled a short angry laugh. “Everything moved so fast in Montreal, we never knew what hit us. Come on. Let’s give it a shot. Maybe we’ll work out, maybe we won’t, but we’ll never know if we don’t try.”
Despite her resistance, his heated gaze drew her in, and his words kept her from tripping over the lines to flee the boat.
He pressed on. “Don’t think for moment that I won’t be seeing Jack as often as I can, no matter what happens between us. But you and I can’t possibly stay separate. That boy binds us together as surely as if we’d figured everything out years ago.”
“How do we go back, Liam?” She whispered the question, her face hidden in the shadows.
“I’ll give you your five days.” He moved closer—so close she could feel the heat of his body and smell the crisp masculine scent of him, although he didn’t touch her. “I don’t want to, but we have to figure this out. I’ll wait until Sunday to see Jack on one condition. You agree to–to dating, for lack of a better term. And I’m not going to beg. You have to meet me halfway. Can you do that?”
His endearing little smile sent a frisson of desire zinging through her. The deep cadence of his voice caressed her as he continued. “We don’t go back. We go forward.”
Crossing her arms, she walked slowly to the other side of the boat, watching the lights at the bait shop flicker between the swaying branches of the ancient pines. Uncle Noah was up there, probably sorting through the box of new lures and laughing with Will and Tony. A few days ago, Jack would have been with them, his gray eyes—so like Liam’s—sparkling as he unpacked new fishing gear. Nothing would ever be that simple again.
But Liam was Jack’s father, and didn’t she owe it to her son to at least try?
A noble concept.
She glanced over her shoulder. Just thinking of his kisses turned her insides to mush and made heat build low in her body.
Who am I kidding?
Boundaries. I need to set some boundaries.
“Okay,” she agreed warily, still not facing him. “But we have to lay down some ground rules. I can’t think straight when you—when your hands are—”
Liam’s seductive chuckle stopped her stammering as he pulled her back against him. “Don’t ask me not to touch you. I can’t promise that.” His voice was soft and sensual. “I’d be a liar if I did.” His lips caressed the sensitive skin behind her ear and then found her throat. She felt his warm breath against her skin when he whispered, “And you’d be so disappointed if I never touched you.”
Carrie gave up. Turning, she slid her arms around his waist, settling into his embrace. He was right. Incredibly, wonderfully right. She longed for him to touch her everywhere, to kiss her, to stroke and suckle her. She wanted his hands on her. His mouth on her. “Oh God, Liam,” she murmured. “What am I going to do with—”
His lips hushed whatever she was about to say. She returned the deep kiss, loving the urgency of his hands on her back. Finally he lifted his head, his mouth hovering over hers. “Tell you what,” he said, his warm, wine-sweet breath mingling with hers. “I promise we won’t do anything you don’t want to do. How’s that?” Even in the dim light of the deck, his eyes gleamed.
“And I get to decide what it is I want, right?” she asked before she pulled his mouth to hers in a searing kiss.
Liam’s eyes were smoky when he broke contact. “Oh yeah, your choice all the way, sweetheart.”
Chuckling, he took her lips again.
TEN
“These were on the bench by your door.” Eliot handed Carrie a bouquet as he and Aunt Margie sauntered into her apartment the next morning. Depositing a basket of scones on the granite bar by the kitchen, he dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Have you forgiven me yet?” His tone was grave, but Carrie noted the gleam in his eye.
“You’ve opened up a very large can of wo
rms, Eliot.” She frowned before turning to Margie for a hug. “Hey, Aunt Margie.” Then she tugged the florist’s paper from the bouquet to reveal pink roses bound up with a white ribbon.
“My goodness.” Margie fingered the delicate blooms. “How gorgeous.” She gave them a sniff. “Don’t they smell heavenly?”
Carrie pulled a card from the center of the bouquet. No message, simply a bold black scrawl, Liam. That signature sent pinwheels and rockets ripping through her veins. How did he know she loved she loved pink roses? As she buried her nose in the flowers, the scent propelled her thoughts back to the previous night.
Thank God, Tony and Will had come strolling down the dock, or she’d have had Liam flat on his back on the deck of the Allegro—or he’d have had her there.
Who knew?
When she raised her head, Margie and Eliot were smiling at one another. Sighing, she took the flowers into the kitchen to find a vase.
“I saw Perry at the farm stand this morning, so I’ve heard some of the story.” Margie sat down at the table, eyeing the piles of albums and pictures covering the surface. “And Eliot was kind enough to tell me what he knows. I think he may have brought me along for protection.” She winked at Eliot who was at the kitchen counter gathering napkins, butter, and plates.
Carrie rolled her eyes as she set the flowers on the chest in front of the sofa. Perry owned the local coffee shop, which also happened to be the best place in town to catch up on the latest news. “Jeez, Perry’s in gossip heaven, isn’t he? Well, there’s nothing like being the topic of the day.” At the table, she closed her laptop and set it aside, stacking up pictures and albums to make room for the impromptu breakfast. “The jury is still out on whether or not I’ve forgiven you, Eliot. But I love you too much to stop speaking to you. Besides your scones are to die for, and I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee.”
He smiled and patted her shoulder. “I consider it a fortuitous merging of necessary events. I needed him and frankly, it was time you dealt with all the baggage. A win for both of us.”
Once More From the Top (The Women of Willow Bay) Page 7