The Return of Connor Mansfield

by Beth Cornelison

  Huffing her frustration with herself and her traitorous thoughts, she pulled Savannah’s door almost closed. She left it cracked open so that Toby could get out if he wanted and so that she could hear Savannah if she called out.

  Lifting a glare to Connor, she said, “We need to talk. Alone.”

  Darby took Connor by the arm and guided him toward the back of the house, away from the prying eyes and ears of his family and the marshals. She ducked into her bedroom, and he followed, keeping his gaze averted from the bed where he’d made slow, passionate love to Darby so many times...where Savannah had likely been conceived.

  Samples of her artwork, framed charcoal portraits and canvasses with oil-painted nature scenes, hung on her walls and lay in stacks on her work desk. The layer of dust on her art supplies spoke for how long it had been since she’d indulged in her passion.

  He faced her, and Darby’s hurt and anger rolled off her in waves. “Why didn’t you tell me about the death threats back then? Why...” She swallowed hard. “Why didn’t you trust me with the truth?”

  Connor lowered himself on the front edge of a stuffed chair and leaned forward, his forearms braced on his thighs and his fingers steepled between his knees. “Originally, I didn’t tell you about the threats because I didn’t want to worry you. Once the U.S. Marshals’ office got involved and I agreed to go into WitSec, everything happened so fast.”

  “Didn’t it matter to you that the choices you were making affected my life, too? We were supposed to be a team! We were going to get married!”

  He raked his hair back and shook his head sadly. “I know that, but I was warned that any leaks to my friends or family could blow the whole operation.”

  “Your faked death, you mean.” Resentment was heavy in her tone as she dropped on the bed and tucked her feet under her.

  He nodded, pained by her anger, understandable though it was. “You had to believe I was dead for it to work. Any hint that you weren’t truly in mourning, that you had any contact with me would have tipped the Gales off.”

  Darby pulled a pillow in front of her like a shield and dug her fingers into it. Her mouth was pressed in a hard, unhappy line, reflecting her rising ire. “So my anguish over losing you was part of your plan? Part of the whole act to fool the world?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose then sent her a pleading look. “Darby, I’ve said I’m sorry. I hated hurting you, hurting my parents and brothers. But my death had to be believable. For your safety. If we could have done things differently—”

  “Why couldn’t you? You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go with you. You abandoned me!” She paused long enough to regain control over the warble in her voice and to blink back the tears that crept to her eyes.

  “I couldn’t ask you to go. How could I ask you to give up everything and disappear?” he asked, meeting her gaze evenly. “You would have had to leave your family, give up your job, your friends, your art—everything about your life—to go into hiding with me. You can’t even keep the same hobbies, Darby. People can track you through associations, memberships, purchases...” He sighed, grief tightening his lungs. “Could you have walked away from your family, the way your father did?”

  Fury flashed like lightning in her eyes. She jerked her feet to the floor, bristling. “That’s not fair! Don’t you bring him into this!”

  “But it’s relevant. You know it’s true.” His gaze held no malice, only brutal honesty and compassion. “Would you have said yes to me, Darby? Could you have given up art, your sketching to be with me? Could you have abandoned your family to be with me?”

  A painful knot swelled in Darby’s throat, and bitterness squeezed her chest, stealing her breath. She batted at the tears that tickled her cheeks. The idea of giving up her sisters, her mother...not to mention Hunter and the rest of the Mansfields, who were like family, plus her art, her job, her friends...

  It was a lot to process. She stared at him blankly, staggered by the enormity of what he was asking, even if hypothetically. And realizing that everything he’d described was the very choice he’d made—to protect her. One taut second followed another. The tick of her antique alarm clock counted the passing moments like hammering heartbeats in the damning silence.

  Connor’s face fell, his dark eyebrows snapping together in a frown. “That’s what I thought.”

  Darby raised her chin. “I haven’t answered yet.”

  “Exactly. It would have been an excruciating decision for you, and I couldn’t force that kind of choice on you. That would have been cruelly selfish, and I loved you too much to put that burden on you.”

  Darby squared her shoulders, trying—and failing—to keep her tangled, turbulent emotions at bay. “No, selfish was taking the choice from me. You always have to be the one in control. But I deserved the chance to have a say in our future!”

  He held her gaze, his face reflecting deep pain tinged with regret. Finally he blinked and looked away, his forehead creasing with consternation. “I wanted to tell you the truth, even if you couldn’t come with me, but the marshals were adamant. Your grief had to be real to be convincing, or the Gales would have suspected a hoax.”

  She folded her arms over her chest and shook her head. “And now you’re back and taking choices from me again.”

  He frowned. “How’s that?”

  She laughed without humor. “You and your glorified babysitters moving into my house without so much as a ‘may we?’ or second thought as to how the disruption to our routine will affect my daughter.”

  “Our daughter.” His tone was warm and gentle, but the simple words had the effect of a kick to her gut.

  Darby raised her chin, hot tears sliding onto her cheeks. Her own father had walked away without considering her feelings. Knowing Connor had chosen to leave her once, regardless of his reasons, left the question of whether he could, like her father, abandon her again. Clearly that was his intention after the transplant. She had to remember that in moments when her heart tried to forget. “It takes more than sperm and a five-minute visit when she’s four to call yourself her father.”

  “I know that, Darby,” he said with a ragged sigh.

  The pain that darkened his eyes shot a heavy sense of contrition through her, and she wished she could retract the waspish retort. Her shoulders drooped, and she rubbed the achy muscles at the back of her neck. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

  Connor rose from the chair where he’d been perched and moved toward her. Her stomach bunched as he approached, and her nerves jangled with carnal awareness.

  He stopped inches from her, and with his fingers tipping her head up, he met her gaze. The tenderness in his caramel eyes chipped at the icy anger she’d put around her heart.

  “Every decision I’ve made, good or bad, I made because I thought, at the time, it was the right one. Even when the choice was hard—even painful to follow through—I did what I thought I had to, what I thought was best. Not for me. For you.”

  Her knees shook, and she had to close her eyes, steel herself as her defenses weakened.

  “Even now I’m trying to do what’s right. I want to do what’s best for the people I love, but the variables keep changing. I’m figuring this out as I go along, Darby, but the one constant in this whole mess has always been you. You, and now Savannah, will always be my first priority.”

  * * *

  A tiny sound, like a wounded bird, squeaked from her throat, and she pulled her chin free of his grasp. Connor gritted his teeth in frustration, feeling her shutting him out, holding him at arm’s length. Her closed eyes and rigid posture screamed that he couldn’t say anything that would make a difference, given her mood.

  He balled his fists, wanting to hit something, wanting to yell, wanting to shake her out of her righteous indignation. Wanting to hold her and never let go. Wanting to erase the
past four and a half years and start over. Wanting to take her to bed and make love to her until she remembered what they’d meant to each other.

  Instead he stood there, shaking, staring at her, floundering as the seconds ticked by.

  “Darby,” he started again, and when she turned away, spine stiff, he snapped. He took her by the arms and backed her against the nearest wall. The move surprised her, and when her mouth opened in a startled gasp, he captured her lips with his.

  For a moment, she was clearly stunned, but she quickly recovered her faculties and shoved against his chest. She tried to wiggle her mouth free, but he framed her head with firm hands and deepened the kiss. He poured every scrap of frayed emotion and four plus years of longing and heartache into his kiss. With the caress of his lips, he told her everything she refused to hear him verbalize. He showed her what he couldn’t find words to say.

  For several seconds, she struggled, whimpering a halfhearted protest. But before long, her shoving hands were clinging to his shirt, and her lips were responding to his, matching his fervor. Her fingers threaded through his hair, and her tongue parted his lips, seeking his. Her arms clung, her lips claimed, and her protests morphed to mewls of pleasure.

  A fresh hope wove through Connor’s tangled feelings, and relief loosened the knots of fear and frustration and four-year-old pain. He savored the flavor of her kiss, even sweeter now than he’d remembered, and his body hummed to life with a desire that had only grown keener over the long months without her.

  “Oh, Darby, I’ve missed you. I’ve dreamed of this moment every day since I left,” he murmured as he kissed her face. And tasted tears.

  He jerked back to study her expression, and beneath his hands, her shoulders shook.

  “Darby?” He wiped a fat drop as it rolled down her cheek.

  She only shook her head and, fisting her hands in his hair, dragged him back down for another soul-deep kiss. He lost himself in her embrace, shutting out everything but the press of her lips, the warmth of her body and the pure pleasure of holding her again.

  Until a loud rap on the door yanked him back to reality.

  “Darby? You in there?” Hunter called from the hall.

  Beneath his hands Darby tensed, and she turned her head, breaking their kiss. “Um...yeah. Is Savannah okay?”

  She scooted out of his arms, and disappointment jabbed him beneath his ribs. He didn’t want to let her go, didn’t want to share her with the world again. After years of waiting and wanting, these few moments alone with her weren’t nearly enough. As she sidled away, Darby raised a trembling hand to her mouth, then lifted her eyes to meet his. Her expression echoed the regret he felt, and his heart stuttered.

  “Dr. Reed’s on the phone,” Hunter said. “She says it’s urgent.”

  Darby yanked open the bedroom door to take the phone from Hunter, but when he held it out to her, Marshal Raleigh hurried up behind Hunter and grabbed the cell phone from him.

  She bristled, trying to snatch the phone from the marshal. “Hey! I have an important call.”

  Raleigh put his hand over the receiver and said in a harsh whisper, “Cell phones are not secure. Say as little as possible and nothing about him—” he jerked his head toward Connor “—at all. Set up an in-person meeting if she wants to talk further. Got it?”

  The man’s bossiness set Darby’s teeth on edge, but she knew his precaution was meant to protect Connor. Keeping Connor alive was her desire, as well, so she nodded. With a narrow-eyed look clearly meant to emphasize his warning, Raleigh handed her the cell phone. Hunter sized up the situation and, with a nod to Darby, eased back down the hall toward the living room.

  Darby took a moment to steady her composure before lifting the phone to her ear. “Hello, Dr. Reed. Is there a problem?”

  “That’s what I’m calling to clarify. I understand you talked to Jillian earlier today while I was meeting with Sam Orlean. Did she tell you my concerns regarding Mr. Orlean’s DNA test results?”

  “She did,” Darby said quickly, turning her back to Raleigh’s watchful stare. “And I’d like to discuss those results with you in person if I may. Can we meet in your office tomorrow maybe? I think I can clear up some of your questions.”

  Dr. Reed agreed to make time for Darby and transferred her to the appointment desk. Her hand was shaking when she disconnected and met Connor’s gaze.

  “I have an appointment in the morning.”

  “We have an appointment,” he corrected. “I should go with you. If we’re going to explain the truth to Savannah’s doctor, I want to be there.”

  Behind her, Raleigh grunted his disapproval, which Connor ignored.

  “Besides, I think I owe Dr. Reed an apology.” Connor rubbed his chin and twisted his mouth into a sheepish grimace. “I was not very cooperative today when I met with her, and I made have come off as hostile.”

  Darby slid the phone into her shorts pocket and rolled the tension from her shoulders. “All right. That’s probably best.”

  Raleigh pursed his lips in exasperation. “Definite FUBAR in the making.” He crooked a finger toward Connor. “If you insist on going into public, we need a plan. Meet me out front.”

  The grumpy marshal disappeared down the hall, leaving her alone with Connor again. He stepped toward her, combing his fingers through her hair as he brushed it from her face. “Now...where were we?”

  A heady thrill chased through her, remembering the sweet assault of his lips and how quickly she had responded to his touch. As if no time had passed since they’d last made love. As if her body had been dormant, waiting for his kiss to wake her and bring all her senses to life again.

  She twisted away from him when he ducked his head to kiss her. “We were treading on dangerous ground. That’s where we were.”

  His brow puckered. “Dangerous? Why do you say that?”

  She balled her fists and pulled her shoulders back, peeved that he was dragging her into this conversation. She’d dealt with quite enough emotional upheaval for one day, thank you. “You really have to ask? Connor, you’ve already said you’re going back into WitSec when your business here is done. Did you really think I’d be happy having a tryst with you, knowing that’s all it would be, a short-term fling?”

  He blinked, his expression deeply wounded, even angry with her. “First, I don’t have business here. I have family. I’m here because my daughter needs me.”

  The emotion in his voice pierced straight to her soul, and she ached with the knowledge of what could have been. Connor, the doting father, sharing midnight feedings and silly games designed to make Savannah laugh. Connor, the worried father, rocking their daughter when she cried and kissing skinned knees. Connor, the loving, attentive father she’d always known he’d be. She wasn’t at all surprised that he’d rushed back to Lagniappe after learning about Savannah and her illness.

  But it stung to know he hadn’t loved Savannah’s mother enough to move heaven and earth the same way to be with her. She resented the fact that his choice made her feel like the young girl who’d waited endless days for her father to return. To no avail. She hadn’t mattered to her father, and four and a half years ago, she hadn’t mattered enough to Connor. Darby bit the inside of her cheek, choking down the tears and self-pity that thought stirred. She stood her ground, determined not to let anyone hurt her that much again, as Connor moved closer, his eyes fierce.

  “Second, I never considered our sex merely a fling and never will. It’s always been about my feelings for you, about the deep connection we shared. Body and soul. How can you think I’d ever settle for a fling with you?” When he reached for her cheek, she stepped back, away from his touch, her heart breaking.

  “So your intention is to make me fall in love with you again, so you can shatter it when you leave like you did four years ago? Rebuild that intimate connection just i
n time to rip it apart when you go back to WitSec?” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “No, thank you. I think I’ll pass.”

  “Fall in love again?” His brow furrowed, and he narrowed a stricken gaze on her. “Are you saying you don’t love me anymore?”

  She barked a humorless laugh. “That’s what you got from what I said? My point is, I’ve hurt quite enough thanks to you and your faked death. Enough to last a lifetime. I can’t go there again, no matter what feelings I have or don’t still have for you.”

  Connor’s shoulders dropped, and grief darkened his countenance. “I never want to cause you pain. I hated knowing you and my family would believe I was dead.”

  She jerked a nod. “I believe you. I do. And I know you well enough to know your leaving was hard on you, too. But the fact remains that it hurt. Deeply and irrevocably. I barely survived the pain of losing you once. I can’t risk hurting that way again.”

  The muscle in Connor’s jaw ticked as he stared at her, his eyes damp. Sighing, he dragged both hands over his face. “So you’re locking your heart up, closing yourself off to ever loving someone?”

  “Maybe not forever. Maybe some day I’ll find someone to love and share my life with.” She paused long enough to gain the composure she needed to finish without her voice cracking. “But as long as your intention is to leave, to return to WitSec and disappear from our lives, then I can’t let myself love you.”

  Chapter 8

  After Connor joined the others in the kitchen, Darby went into her bathroom to splash water on her face and take something for the raging headache drilling her skull. Her conversation with Connor had her shaking from the inside out, and her heart felt as if it had been wrung out and beaten with a stick.

  When she faced her reflection in the mirror above the sink, she found she looked as ragged as she felt. She tried to freshen up a bit, brushing her hair and dusting her pale cheeks with blusher. As she made her touch-ups, her reply to Connor echoed in her mind.