The Return of Connor Mansfield

by Beth Cornelison

  As long as your intention is to leave...I can’t let myself love you. What a liar she was. She’d never stopped loving Connor. That was why his return and his plans to leave again hurt so damn much. Kissing him had only awakened memories she’d locked away years ago in order to preserve her sanity. Memories of how his touch set her body on fire and made her soul sing. Memories of the unity she felt with him on every level when they made love. Memories of how his kisses made her feel cherished, safe...and thoroughly aroused.

  She rubbed her arms as lingering goose bumps prickled her skin even now. After all these months of his absence, her body still had the same reaction to his kiss. Well, almost the same. She no longer felt emotionally safe with him. And the revelation of his faked death had bruised her ego, wounded her trust in him. He could say he’d left to keep her safe, but the little girl who still lived inside her, the young teenager whose father had walked out on her family, saw Connor’s departure as evidence her love hadn’t been enough. That he hadn’t loved her enough. That inequity stung.

  Shaking her head, she roused herself from her dreary woolgathering and scoffed at the results of her touch-ups. She still looked ragged, but with coral tint on her cheeks and her hair in place. Getting rid of the dark circles under her eyes and general haggard look about her would take weeks of better sleep, healthier eating and a significant reduction in her stress level. None of which was likely to happen anytime soon.

  Tossing her brush on the bathroom counter, she headed out to the kitchen, where Connor, his family and the U.S. Marshals were waiting. When she reached the breakfast room, she found Connor alone propped against the counter, his gaze taking in the scribbled artwork taped to the refrigerator across from him. Masterpieces only a mother could love. Or a father.

  Her heart somersaulted, seeing his tall, wide frame filling her kitchen. The sight was so familiar and so foreign at the same time.

  “Where is everyone?”

  He turned toward her as she moved from the doorway. “Jones and Raleigh are settling in the guest room, I think. Everyone else is waiting for us in the living room.” He paused. “Your sister’s here now. Hunter called her.”

  “Which one? Lilly?”

  Connor nodded. Of Darby’s three sisters, she was closest to Lilly. Next to Hunter, Lilly was her best friend, and Hunter knew it. Nothing happened in Darby’s life that her youngest sister didn’t hear about and vice versa, so it didn’t surprise her that Hunter would have summoned Lilly.

  “And Grant told Tracy,” Connor added. “She and the kids will be here in an hour or so.”

  Darby raked her hair back from her face. “A regular family reunion.”

  Another nod and a sheepish grin. “I’m supposed to be getting Dad a glass of water, but I got distracted.” He pointed to pictures Peyton had drawn of Toby and Savannah. “I see our daughter has your talent for art. These are really good for a kid her age.”

  Darby gave him a half smile. “They would be good for a kid Savannah’s age. But those are Peyton’s drawings.”

  “Oh.”

  Darby pointed to a sheet with crayon scribbles. “This one is Savannah’s.”

  Connor arched an eyebrow and glanced at the childish scribble. “Ah, so her artistic talent is more on my level.”

  Darby grinned. “She’s not even four yet. Give her a break.”

  He waved a finger toward the drawing. “What is it supposed to be?”

  Darby’s grin spread, remembering the day Savannah had created the masterpiece. “It’s a bird. With a cape.”

  Connor’s gaze flicked to her, amusement tugging his lips. “A cape?”

  Darby nodded. “It’s Super Bird.”

  He stroked a hand over his mouth as he chuckled. “Super Bird. Got it.”

  His penetrating, gold gaze latched on to hers as he smiled, and her pulse danced a two-step. She and Connor had always teased and laughed so easily when they were together. His sense of humor had brightened even the hardest days when they’d dated. And it was one of the things she’d missed most the last four and a half years.

  Desire thrummed in her veins, and her bones melted. Why did he have to be so blindingly handsome? Darby folded her arms over her chest, fighting the urge to throw herself at him and never let go. He lied to you. Shattered your heart. Even knowing what Dad did to our family, he abandoned you.

  Connor dropped his gaze to the floor where Toby, who’d apparently changed his mind about napping with Savannah, was rubbing against his pants leg. He reached down and lifted the brown tabby to his arms. “Well, hello, Toby. How’ve you been, pal?”

  He scratched her docile cat behind the ears. Toby relished the attention, completely oblivious to the betrayal, the pain Connor had caused her. She pushed aside the prick of rejection and took a glass out of the cabinet for Connor’s father. “Do you still play tennis?”

  “No. Sam Orlean has different interests, different pastimes. By necessity.”

  Darby mulled that fact, considered what life must be like for Connor, having to change everything about who he was and how he spent his time. “So what do you do now?”

  And if he was Sam Orlean now, was any part of the man she’d fallen in love with still alive in him?

  “I can usually find a pick-up game of basketball at the gym. I stink at it, but...” He shrugged and smiled, and she found her attention drawn to his mouth. “And I still jog. That’s universal enough that the marshals thought it would be okay to keep it up.” He twisted his lips as he thought, still rubbing Toby’s neck with his fingers. “I’ve started tinkering with cars, something I used to do with Grant but gave up on when I was about fifteen.”

  “Mmm,” she murmured, her focus shattered by the flash of heat that spun through her when she thought of those lips on hers moments ago. Their tender warmth had been so sweet, so tantalizing....

  Toby wiggled and hopped out of Connor’s arms, tail flicking as he sauntered away.

  Darby filled the glass she’d retrieved with ice and water from the refrigerator door dispenser and headed toward the living room.

  Connor caught her arm. “Will you tell everyone I’ll join them in a minute? I’m going to sit with Savannah for a while.”

  She drilled him with a fierce look. “Don’t you dare wake her up. She’s just finished six weeks of chemo. Her body is exhausted. She needs her sleep!”

  Connor caressed Darby’s cheek, a completely unexpected gesture that silenced her warning and sent a tingle from her nape down her spine.

  “I won’t wake her, Dar. I promise. I just want to sit with her. Look at her. Be near her.” He paused, the corners of his eyes creasing with regret. “I don’t know how long I may have here, and I can’t take a minute of it for granted.”

  With that, he silently walked to Savannah’s door and tiptoed in.

  Darby took Stan his water, then excused herself to follow Connor to her daughter’s room.

  Connor had pulled her rocking chair close to her bed, and as Darby entered he bent to press a soft kiss to Savannah’s brow. Taking a seat in the chair, he gently curled his fingers around their daughter’s hand and settled in, as if keeping vigil over her. He stroked his thumb back and forth on Savannah’s small hand and watched her sleep with an expression of love and heartache in his eyes.

  Darby stayed at the door for a few minutes, until the poignant ache under her ribs swelled so much she could barely breathe. Right now, today, she had what she’d always wanted, what she’d prayed for, what her heart desired most. Connor and Savannah, with her, together, a family. But there was no peace in the reunion. The threats to her family came from so many directions—cancer, assassins, WitSec. So many ways that her small family could be shattered.

  She drew a deep shuddering breath as she closed Savannah’s door. If she considered all the challenges she faced at once, the obstacles thr
eatened to overwhelm her. Giving up was not an option. She’d simply have to face each hurdle as it arose and fight to keep the people she loved safe.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning, Darby held Savannah on her hip and rode the elevator to the third floor of the medical building where the pediatric oncologist had her office. Following Dr. Reed’s call yesterday, she’d arranged today’s meeting with Dr. Reed and Connor—no, Sam. She had to remember to call him Sam, to play the charade in public.

  When the elevator bell dinged and the doors slid open, Darby adjusted the edge of the mask Savannah wore and kissed her forehead. “Remember, keep your mask on unless the doctor tells you to take it off.”

  “So I don’t get gewms?”

  Darby sighed as she marched down the corridor. “Right. So you don’t get germs.”

  A little girl shouldn’t be worried about her compromised immune system and what microbes might get her sick. She should be playing in the dirt, making mud pies and feeling the sun on her face. Maybe someday, if Connor was a match and if the transplant was a success and if Savannah beat the cancer... She cursed all the “ifs” in her life and dragged open the door to the doctor’s office.

  In keeping with the disguises started yesterday, Connor and the marshals continued to dress as health care workers. They left the house an hour before Darby and arranged to meet her at the doctor’s office.

  When she entered the office lobby, Connor was already there. He stood in the middle of the waiting room, hands in the pockets of khaki pants, staring at a tank full of tropical fish. As if sensing her gaze, he turned.

  His face lit with the smile that had won her heart six years ago, but once again, his appearance had been altered. The transformation since earlier that morning was subtle but effective. His dark brown hair had been cut significantly shorter. He sported facial hair again, as he had yesterday, this time a trim mustache and well-groomed Vandyke. Medical scrubs had been exchanged for a plaid button-down shirt to complete his Sam Orlean persona. His light brown eyes were hidden behind stylishly geeky glasses.

  He approached her with his hand extended. “Are you Darby Kent?”

  “Uh...” She was still taking in the change in his appearance, so his question, which seemed so ridiculous for someone she nearly married, rattled her again.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said, following through with the act, even though she’d fumbled. “I’m Sam Orlean, the potential donor from Dallas.”

  “Um, right. Hello.” As she shook his hand, Savannah raised her head to see who her mother was greeting. Uh-oh. She hadn’t briefed Savannah that they needed to pretend they didn’t know Connor. Would her daughter recognize him despite the disguise?

  “And this must be Savannah.” He smiled at their daughter, who clung to Darby with a curious furrow in her brow.

  “Why do you look like that?” Savannah asked, and Darby inwardly cringed. She glanced past Connor and saw just one other person in the waiting room. The front desk clerk watched them, as well. A small audience for their act, but according to Connor, no one, no matter how insignificant-seeming, could know who he really was.

  Connor chuckled good-naturedly. “I think my beard makes me look handsome. Don’t you?”

  Savannah shrugged. “I guess.”

  “Uncle Connor is playing dress up,” she whispered to Savannah, “like on Halloween. Can you play along and pretend he’s someone you just met? Pretend his name is Sam Orlean and he is a new friend?”

  Savannah looked skeptical, but she nodded. Darby decided distraction might be her best bet, and she searched the room for something to occupy Savannah. “Honey, do you want to play with the puzzles?”

  Connor battled down the urge to pull both Darby and his daughter into his arms for a firm hug. The memory of the kiss he’d shared with Darby yesterday had kept him awake all night, filling him with foolish dreams of a happier ending than he knew was possible.

  When he’d first spotted her across the office, his breath had backed up in his lungs. The sight of Darby still made his senses short-circuit, his body hum. Her beautiful face, vulnerable eyes and sunshine smile moved something in his soul every time he looked at her.

  And the little girl in her arms, a heartbreaking reflection of her mother in so many ways, made his chest squeeze and emotions reel in ways he’d never known. His daughter...

  Savannah glanced over at the stack of toys across the room before giving Darby a look full of trepidation. “No poke today?”

  Darby smoothed a hand over Savannah’s thin wisps of hair and gave her a sad smile. “No, baby. No needles today. I promise. Dr. Reed wants to see how you’re doing, but no needles.”

  A sudden, almost overwhelming wave of sympathy and concern for Savannah swept through him. His knees shook, and he dropped into the nearest chair before his legs could give out. His daughter had been relentlessly pricked and poked, injected with poisons to kill the diseased cells ravaging her tiny body. Cancer treatment was difficult enough for adults to endure. How much harder must it have been for a young child who didn’t understand what was happening and why?

  Savannah crossed the room and rummaged through the box of toys, while Darby signed in with the receptionist. When she’d finish checking in, Darby took a chair next to him. “The receptionist said we’re next. It should only be a few—” She cut herself off midsentence and frowned at him. “Con—um, Sam, what’s wrong? You’re as white as a sheet.”

  He swiped a shaky hand over his mouth and whispered, “You’ve been dealing with Savannah’s condition for months. I’m still taking in all the implications. It’s a lot to process.”

  She sighed and sat back in her chair. “I may be past the initial shock, but I still have a hard time dealing with—” She bit her lip and didn’t finish the thought.

  He nodded his empathy. “Just now, thinking about the doctors using her as a pincushion, how scary this must be for her...” Connor’s voice cracked, and he paused to clear his throat. Darby’s expression softened.

  “My reaction just caught me off guard. The grief and sympathy...and anger—” He fisted his hands and clenched his jaw as that particular emotion swelled again. “Why did this happen to my—” He caught himself. “To such a small, innocent little girl,” he said, switching to Sam Orlean mode. Connor forced himself to draw a slow, deep breath before continuing. He had to remember the role he was playing. He flashed a quick humorless smile at Darby. “It was a real kick in the teeth, ya know?”

  “Tell me about it.” Darby sent him a side glance and in a soft voice added, “But for her sake, save the meltdowns for your own time. She needs the adults around her to be strong and positive.”

  Connor lifted his chin and cocked an eyebrow. “Of course. It’s just...I’m not used to feeling so...helpless.”

  Darby gave him a strange look, then twisted her lips in a wry grin. “That’s right. Knowing you can’t step in and take charge, manipulate the situation to suit yourself must be murder for a control freak like you.”

  He straightened in his seat. “I’m not—” He swallowed the denial. Not only did he want to avoid arguing with Darby, he had to admit he liked to be right. He needed order, predictability, direction, oversight...okay, yes, control over a situation. But he wasn’t unreasonable. He wasn’t the dictator or tyrant Darby made him out to be.

  Savannah wandered back to her mother, carrying a naked Barbie with tangled hair. Clutching the doll in one hand, she climbed into Darby’s lap and leaned back against her mother’s chest. Connor felt a twinge in his chest. He wanted his daughter to feel as safe in his arms as she did in her mother’s. He wanted to make up for the lost time together. He wanted to be the father he hadn’t had the chance to be. He watched Savannah move the Barbie’s long arms and legs into various anatomically impossible positions before tiring of the toy and tossing it aside.

&nbs
p; “Ms. Kent?” a nurse in pink scrubs called from the door to the treatment area. “Dr. Reed will see you now.”

  “Savannah, will you draw one of your pretty pictures for me while your mommy talks to the doctor?” The nurse, Jillian according to her name tag, held her hand out, and Savannah hesitated only a moment before going to the woman.

  “I’ll be right back, sweetie.” Darby kissed Savannah’s cheek. “Be good for Ms. Jillian. Okay?”

  Connor followed Darby into the doctor’s office and closed the door. “Are we on the same page about what to tell the doctor about who I am?”

  Darby took a seat on the couch across from the doctor’s cluttered desk. “Like we agreed, she needs to know you’re Savannah’s father. Her nurse has seen your test results and knows I was upset yesterday, so she’ll need the truth, too.”

  “And we need to impress upon them the urgency that they not tell anyone else. The fewer people who know about me, the safer you and Savannah will be.” Connor fought the urge to straighten the papers on the desk and sat down beside Darby.

  The office door opened, and an attractive middle-aged woman wearing a white lab coat and a casual pantsuit breezed in. Connor stood to greet the doctor, with whom he’d met yesterday.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, Darby,” she said as she hung the lab coat on a coatrack. Before sitting down, the woman did a double take. Confusion flashed over the doctor’s face as she studied Connor’s appearance. “Mr. Orlean?”

  “Yes...and no.” Connor held out his hand to shake the doctor’s. “I can explain the change in my appearance. And my real name is Connor Mansfield.”

  “Is there a problem I should know about?” Dr. Reed asked, glancing from Connor to Darby and back. “Because my nurse tells me Darby was quite upset yesterday over your test results. If I’m going to treat Savannah, if we proceed with this BMT, I have to know exactly who and what I’m dealing with, both medically and logistically.”

  Connor firmed his mouth and met Darby’s anxious and determined gaze. He jerked his head once in affirmation. “I am Savannah’s father. But for almost five years, I’ve been living under the alias Sam Orlean as part of the U.S. Marshals Witness Security program. Darby didn’t know this until yesterday.”