So she simply said, “Just an observation.”
“Tessa’s cool.” He left it there and hurried on. “I wanted to ask if you could come up on Sunday for the kids’ first recital. Tradition is Dr. Lawson picks one of the counselors to do the finale at each recital and he picked me for the first one!”
“Honey, that’s wonderful!” Carrie exclaimed. “You bet I’ll be there.” No need to tell him she’d already planned to be there and why. That certainly wasn’t a conversation for the telephone.
Coward.
Her conscience nudged her. But she’d become brilliant at ignoring that particular inner voice. Hadn’t she disregarded it earlier today when Liam asked if there were any more secrets?
“He said I could play anything I wanted, so I’m doing Jelly Roll Morton’s ‘King Porter Stomp.’ It’s awesome! I’m totally psyched...”
A chill went through her at his eagerness. Right now, the most important thing in his young life was getting to play jazz at a recital. But Sunday, his life would be changed forever.
How do I to tell him about Liam? What if he can’t forgive me? What if he never forgives me? What if he wants to go with Liam and—
“Mom?” The question in Jack’s voice brought her back to the conversation. “You still there?”
“Yes... Yes, I’m still here.”
“You okay?”
“Yep, I’m fine,” she reassured him. “I can’t wait to see you. You’ll be brilliant in the finale—better than Jelly Roll.”
“Well, I don’t know about that.” His chuckle was exactly like Liam’s. A bell sounded behind his voice. “Whoops, that’s fellowship. Gotta go, Mom.”
“Okay, good night, honey. I love you.” Tears pricked at her eyelids.
“Love you too. See you Sunday!” The line went dead.
“Yeah. Sunday.” Carrie said to the now-silent phone. She clicked it off and blinking back tears, took a long drink of wine.
FIFTEEN
After he returned from rehearsal on Friday afternoon, Liam simply followed Carrie around. Loitering in the background as she photographed kids at the Methodist church vacation Bible school. Carrying her tripod and gig bag for a quick shoot down at the sailing club. Later, relaxing on a beanbag chair in the corner of the studio with his Kindle while she did a sitting of senior pictures.
“You’re staring,” she accused him as Heather Harmon and her mother left the studio, outfits and paraphernalia over their arms. It had been a good session—Carrie loved working with a subject who had fun with the experience. Locking the door behind them, Carrie flipped the sign to Closed, then stood at her desk to enter the invoice information into her computer.
Liam rose in one lithe move, coming over to stand behind her. “You know, you’re very good at this.” His warm breath on her neck sent a tingle through her.
Shivering, she tried to concentrate on the task at hand. “Does that surprise you?” Finished, she shut down the computer and rubbed the back of her neck.
“Not at all.” He replaced her fingers with his, massaging her skin. “Did it surprise you?”
She turned around to find herself staring at the open neck of his shirt. He slid his fingers into the curls at her nape, lifting her chin with his thumb. The current between them sparked and flashed every time they were within twenty feet of each other. She swallowed with effort, breathing deeply to control the rapid beat of her heart.
“Honestly?” she said. “It surprised the hell out of me.”
“Why?” He resumed the massage, letting his fingers knead and caress her shoulders, his thumbs only inches from her breasts.
“I’m not like you... or Jack. Both of you have always known what you wanted. From the first moment you touched the keys of a piano. But n–not me.” She was stammering. His touch made thinking practically impossible.
Just breathe.
Inhaling, she tried to find the words. “I–I did what I thought other people wanted me to do. In particular, my dad. I think I was trying to live up to my mother’s memory. The piano. Horses. Always someone else’s dream.”
“When did you start taking pictures?”
“When Jack was born.” She smiled up into his eyes, loving how curious he was about everything and happy to see no judgment reflected there. “Eliot gave me a nice digital camera, and from the first shot, I knew I’d found my true talent. I photographed everyone and everything. Took some night classes at Northwestern in Traverse City. Read voraciously. Invested in equipment, a Mac, software.”
Please, please don’t ask me where the money for the equipment came from. Not yet. I can’t tell you about that until I’m sure we’re going to make it this time.
He pivoted her back around as his fingers found the knot that inevitably developed between her neck and shoulder after a long day’s work. “When did you open this place?”
“About four years ago.” Apparently it hadn’t occurred to him to wonder how she afforded the cameras and computer. She allowed his hands, his heat, to relax her aching muscles. Good God, the man’s fingers are magic.
“Mmm… I won a few photo contests. People began asking me to take pictures for them—weddings and events. Then Paul McCann over at the newspaper asked me to do some of his photo work. The portraits sorta came along after that, I guess.” Leaning her back against his muscled chest, she tilted her head. “Oh, there. Yes. You found it.”
“All your stress lands right here, doesn’t it?” His fingers prodded.
“Yep.” She rolled her head forward as he worked the sore muscle. “After a day like today, I’m ready for a hot bath and the percussion massager.”
He dropped a kiss on the very spot he’d been rubbing. “I hope I’m at least as good as a massager.”
“Oh, you’ll do.” She swiveled and found herself in his arms. “You’ve certainly been good for business. I swear, senior pictures are going to be done in no time. All the moms are booking June appointments on the off-chance you might be here to drool over.”
“Perhaps you should keep me around.” He ran his thumb across her lower lip.
“There’s an idea.” Desire curled inside her. “Maybe I’ll keep you in the corner. Stuffed and mounted.”
Quirking a brow, he laughed. “My, what a sharp tongue you have, Ms. Halligan.” Liam brought her face to his with a slight pressure on the back of her head. “We’re going to have to do something to sweeten your disposition.” His mouth closed over hers, opening her lips with an exploring tongue before she had a chance to react.
Senses reeling, Carrie’s arms lifted automatically to encircle his neck.
How does he do this? Turn me completely to mush every time he so much as looks in my direction. And how will I ever live without his hands, without these kisses when he cruises back to Chicago?
Liam’s hands slipped down to her hips, pulling her hard against him while his tongue sought hers. She ran her hands across his wide shoulders, longing for closer contact, for skin-to-skin connection. His mouth explored her cheek while his uneven breath caressed her ear. Dropping her head back to allow him greater access to the skin of her throat, she tangled her fingers into the thick hair that curled over his collar.
He reached for her buttons, releasing the first few. His hands skated over the tops of her breasts while his teeth nipped gently at her skin. Her nipples tightened and tingled within the confines of her bra. Pressing closer, she touched her tongue to the stubble beneath his chin. He shivered, then his mouth was on hers again—demanding, teasing, caressing—and then demanding once more.
Sliding her hands down his ribcage, yearning to feel warm male skin, she found the hem of his shirt.
But before she could tug the fabric up, he released her lips abruptly and grabbed her hands. “No.” He was breathing hard. His eyes were stormy, reflecting her own unsatisfied longing. “Not again. I can’t. Not without... not without finishing it.” Peering into her face, apparently he found what he was looking for because he whispered, “Meet me at your place in about an
hour. Okay?”
Carrie could only nod, even though what she really wanted was to grab him, throw him down on her desk, and do something delicious and naughty to him. Shaking, she buttoned up with clumsy hands, then smoothed her shirt front. “I need to get to the bank before it closes.” She realized how inane she sounded, but what else could she say?
No wait! Lock the door and screw me stupid right here, right now?
Well, that was one possibility, but he was already heading for the back door.
“I’m going to the market. I’m cooking supper for you,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Will and Tony are entertaining on the boat tonight.”
“You’re kidding.” She shook her head to clear it—they’d moved from practically tearing each other’s clothes off to talking about Will and Tony? And Liam was damn near out the door. How’d that happen? Crap.
She shifted gears. “Who are they entertaining?”
“Couple of servers from the Fishwife.” He stopped with one hand on the doorknob. “I think Will said they were sisters.”
“Hey. Hey, wait!” Carrie seized her tote bag and shoved her laptop and checkbook into it. “Are you talking about the Arnott twins? Deanna and Dinah?”
“Am I?” A breeze swept in the open door, ruffling the curtain to the back room. “Yeah. Actually, that sounds right.”
“Huh. Those two have broken about every male heart in the county.” She chuckled and followed him out the door, stopping to lock it and set the alarm.
“They’re legal, aren’t they?” Liam’s brow furrowed.
“Completely legal,” she assured him. “They’ll be seniors at Michigan State in September. They’re a couple of heartbreakers, that’s all.”
“Well, they’ll have their hands full with Will and Tony.” He grinned. “They’ve broken a few hearts themselves.”
She stared as he jogged down to the corner, waiting for the beach trolley to pass before he crossed to the market. This was all moving so fast again—a replay of Montreal, sixteen years later. But this time, it was different. There was more at stake, and she should be cautious—even though she was still helpless to resist him. The man was driving her insane, and fact was, thanks to his kisses and touches, she didn’t have to go too much further to get to crazy.
* * * *
An hour later, Liam, swathed in her red chef’s apron, poached salmon on the stove, while she lifted the lid of another pot to admire steaming carrots and snow peas.
“I’m thinking of stealing your apron,” he said as he ladled lemon juice and herbs over the salmon. If music be the food of love, play on! Shakespeare’s words were scrawled in white letters across the front of the apron. “That’s from Twelfth Night, right?”
“Yep. A Mother’s Day gift from Jack.” After her shower, she’d donned soft jeans and a yellow cotton tunic. “Did Aunt Margie come by?” She glanced at the plump strawberries piled in a colander in the sink.
“No, I met her on my way up here.” Liam steered her away from the kitchen, sitting her down on one of the stools by the granite bar. “Tony has an apron that says, Friends don’t let friends drink white zinfandel, but this one is much cooler.” He started putting together a salad. Handing her a tomato, a serrated knife, and a small cutting board, he winked. “Make yourself useful.”
Carrie’s heart almost burst with that one gesture. He looked incredibly sexy even with the apron covering his knit shirt and jeans. She would’ve been satisfied to just sit and look at him. Actually, she would have been more satisfied to rip off the apron and everything underneath it. How amazing that he was in her kitchen cooking for her. He was all she’d thought about for almost a week—oh hell, for way longer than that. Was it even right to want someone this bad?
* * * *
After supper, they took their wine into the living room and Carrie put on music—Rod Stewart’s CDs of old standards. A cool breeze wafted in through the screen door as Stewart’s gravelly voice sang “You Go to My Head.” Liam sensed she was setting a mood as she took his hand and led him to the window to look out at the bay and Lake Michigan beyond.
“This is my favorite time of day,” she said. “The sun makes a gold and red reflection in the water that fills my house with color and warmth.” She held her wineglass up to the dying light. He shifted to stand behind her, and she tipped her head back to smile at him. “Watch, the sun will just be gone, like it simply drops into the lake.”
Liam put his arm around her shoulders, holding her close as he watched the sun disappear from sight. The music, the breeze, the wine, the sunset, the lily and musk scent of Carrie’s hair combined to send a blaze of sensual hunger through him. He knew where they would end up tonight. He’d come prepared with several foil packets, purchased earlier in the week, tucked in his jeans pocket. He ran his hand up and down her arm, feeling goose bumps rise at his touch. She leaned back against him for a moment, then shivering, stepped away.
“Liam, there’s something I have to tell you.”
SIXTEEN
Liam’s heart sank.
Where was this going?
He wanted her so much. How was he going to leave again without making love to her?
“I’ve changed.”
“I know that.” His tone was rougher than he intended as desire welled up in him.
“I mean, physically.” She dropped her gaze, turning away. “My body’s not the same as it was before.”
“After sixteen years, whose is?” With a sigh of relief, he followed her as she paced. “Hell, my hair’s getting grayer as we speak. And I thought I was going to have to be resuscitated after we climbed that damn dune.”
“I’m older. I’m fatter. Gravity has started taking its toll…” She glanced at him over her shoulder, and he was certain she didn’t realize how beautiful she appeared. The lights on the docks glowed through the openings in the shutters making dappled stripes across her hair and the rosy skin of her cheek.
“We’re all older and fatter.” He smiled down into her eyes. “You look delicious to me, and you’re right, you’re not the same.” He put his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. “You’re curvier, more womanly... sexier, if that’s even possible.” He whispered the words in her ear and felt goose bumps chase up her arms again. “I’m not looking for some anorexic little twenty-something. In fact, I’m not looking at all. I’ve found who I want. Right here. Who I’ve always wanted.”
“Oh, Liam…” Carrie trembled against him as he tasted the soft skin behind her ear. “Wait... please.”
“What, Carrie?”
She walked away from him again, crossing her arms over her belly. “You said you wanted to give us a chance to try again. Right now, I want you so bad I can’t even think straight.” With a deep breath she faced him. “But there’s something else you need to know before we go upstairs.”
Warily, he waited for her to continue, holding onto the fact that she was indeed expecting to go upstairs.
“Something went wrong when Jack was born. I hemorrhaged and, and they had to do a hysterectomy after he was delivered.” Lifting her head, she looked him straight in the eye. “I can’t have any more babies. Jack is it for me. I don’t know where we’ll end up or if this thing between you and me will work, but if you’re looking to start a family… well…” She gave him a little shrug.
Liam didn’t move or respond as he processed this new revelation, which made him both sad and exhilarated. It was too bad she was unable to have any more children, but whether she meant to or not, she was telling him she wanted a future with him. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” He gathered her close, pressing his lips to her temple. “That must have been terrifying.”
“It was. I was a mess for a while. But I’ve learned to live with it.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her forehead on his chest. “And frankly, all that time, I’ve thought this was how my life is going to be. A big family? More children? Those things never even entered the picture. And you in my life again? That
was... past fantasy. I’m so grateful to have Jack. But Liam, whatever happens with us… well, I thought you should know, that’s all.”
* * * *
For a long moment, he was silent and Carrie held her breath. What if this was a deal breaker in spite of his kind words? What if the fact that he’d missed Jack’s childhood made him want more children? At last, he spoke. “I have something to tell you, too. Six years ago, I was diagnosed with testicular cancer. I went through radiation treatments. They got it all. Everything works just fine, except…” He paused, swallowing hard. “…except I’m sterile.”
“Oh, Liam.” She leaned back, but he was gazing at the horizon above the bay, clearly avoiding eye contact. Her heart ached. Little wonder he was so devastated that she’d kept Jack from him. “How awful. I’m so sorry.”
“Honey, I’m forty-eight years old. Until a few days ago, I believed I’d never be a father.” When his eyes finally met hers, tears shimmered in their depths. “I’m so overwhelmed just knowing about Jack that I can’t even wrap my mind around actually meeting him. Whatever happens between us, Jack is an unexpected treasure, okay?” Threading his fingers through her hair, he stared into her face. “But don’t ever think that all I want from you is Jack. He’s a gift, but I want you. Right now, it’s about us—not babies, not starting a family. Not even Jack.” His mouth closed over hers, opening her lips with an exploring tongue.
She clung to him, sliding her hands up his back, meeting his tongue with her own. A low moan escaped her lips as Liam lifted his mouth to drop tiny kisses across her cheek, his tongue caressing her ear. She couldn’t stop her next words. “Oh, God, Liam, I love you. I’ve loved you forever.”
“And I’ve always loved you. Even when I hated you for leaving me. And even with all the resentment I’m working through, I love you.” Liam ran his hands over her back and down to her hips, pulling her to him. “You’re all I want.”
Once More From the Top (The Women of Willow Bay) Page 11