The Taming Of Reid Donovan

by Pappano, Marilyn

  But what did Reid know of new relationships—or old ones, for that matter? As a child, he had more or less raised himself, unable to count on the mother who had abused him or the father who had forgotten him. As a teenager, the only people he’d had to turn to were the Morgans and other punks, people with whom he’d had little in common besides a heartbreaking sense of abandonment. As an adult, he knew what it meant to be so desperate for another’s touch that sex seemed a fair enough trade. How could he know what to expect from a relationship?

  Facing him, she finally answered his question. “Everything, Reid. You can expect everything.”

  Chapter 6

  With a soft nylon brush, Reid scrubbed the grease and dirt from his hands while staring sightlessly at the water. It was one-thirty on Monday afternoon and time to go home. He had worked a half hour past quitting time on a Chevy older than its owner by a good ten years. He often worked overtime, and it usually didn’t bother him—after all, what did he have to hurry home to?—but today he’d wished he could have gone home on time.

  And what would he have done there? The answer was enough to make him scowl. He would have stood at his living-room window and stared out at the school. He would have watched for some glimpse of Cassie, and he would have indulged in what had become his favorite pastime: erotic fantasies.

  It didn’t take much at all to make him feel edgy and needy as hell—just the thought of her. The mention of her name. The faint scent of her soap that clung to him after last night’s shower. The image of her in her big white bed. In her classroom. Breathless and aroused in the arbor. Just the right thought at the right instant, and his entire body started to throb.

  Just the right thought could make his heart ache.

  You can expect everything, she had told him. He wanted more of an answer, wanted a precise definition of everything. He wanted details, wanted her to run down a list. I’ll go out with you. I’ll be friends with you. I’ll sleep with you. I’ll take you home to meet my family. I’ll like you, want you, need you, seduce you, fight with you, forgive you, make plans with you, make a future with you, make a family with you. It was so much to ask. So much more than he’d ever had...and all that he wanted.

  She had made a mistake yesterday mentioning love. Ever since she had raised the possibility, since she had so casually said, Maybe we’ll fall in love, he’d been trying to imagine how it would feel to have a woman—not just any woman, but Cassie—looking at him the way Karen looked at Jamey. How would it feel to know that he mattered? That he was the most important person in someone else’s life? That he could have all those things he’d never had—a wife, a home, a family?

  He had gotten so damn greedy. In so short a time, he had gone from accepting that he would always live the way he always had to thinking that maybe he could have more. To hoping. To needing. If it wasn’t true, if Cassie was wrong, it was going to destroy him.

  As he dried his hands, his rueful expression almost shifted into a smile. It was easier to believe in all her possibilities when she was with him. It was easier to believe that miracles could happen and dreams could come true when his very own walking, talking dream was in front of him, insisting they could.

  After clocking out, he left the garage and headed home. It wasn’t a long walk, a half dozen blocks. From the moment he turned onto Serenity, he could see all the way to its end, a concrete barrier in the middle of the last block. Years ago the city had divided the street in half, tearing out several blocks, cutting off the neighborhood from one of its only two ways in and out. A lot of people in the surrounding area—and some from the neighborhood itself, including Jamey—thought the city should have done the same thing at this end, cutting off Serenity from the rest of the city and protecting the rest of the city from Serenity.

  A few blocks past O’Shea’s, Trevor Morgan’s current ride was parked in the street, its rough idle audible from a distance. The way the sun was shining, it was impossible to see who was in the car, but it wasn’t difficult at all to recognize Vinnie Marino as he came out of the gray house that had once been home to Cassie’s family. Reid couldn’t stop the edgy little shiver that crept down his spine as his former partner got into the car and it pulled away from the curb. Unless he turned down the next side street, there was no way he could avoid being seen by the men in the car. Since last fall, he’d been trying really hard to avoid them. The surest way to get into trouble of one sort or another was getting within speaking distance of his old buddies.

  He forced himself to continue walking, crossing the street, stepping onto the sidewalk on O‘Shea’s block. Trevor always liked to take it slow through the ’hood, to announce their presence to one and all and publicly flaunt their arrogance. By the time they drew even with Reid and Trevor brought the car to a stop, they were only a few yards this side of the bar.

  On the other side of the car, Vinnie climbed out and rested his arms on the roof. “Hey, Reid. We don’t see you around much. Seems you’re spending all your time over there with them church people.” He jerked his head back to indicate Kathy’s House behind him.

  For a lot of people down here, their only experience with do-gooders was through one religious group or another. They were used to churches butting in where they weren’t wanted and didn’t belong, and they automatically assumed that Kathy’s House was just more of the same, but they were wrong. The people at Kathy’s House didn’t preach. They advised, listened and Karen gently nudged, but none of them preached.

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “We’ve got a job to do this week for Mr. Falcone. We could use some help. Why don’t you come with us?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Come on, Reid,” Vinnie coaxed while, from this side, Trevor stared at Reid from behind a pair of dark glasses. The set of his mouth was hard, his manner menacing. Before Ryan’s murder, Reid had always thought there might be hope for Trevor. He was just a kid, after all, not even yet twenty. He hadn’t shared his brother’s goal of one day being a hotshot in Falcone’s organization. Like Reid, for the most part, he’d just been going along, doing what his big brother did and having a good time. Reid had thought that someday the kid would wake up and realize that going along and having a good time were no way for a man to live. Looking at him now, though, Reid saw no hope.

  “You owe us,” Trevor stated flatly.

  Owed them for what? Taking him in all those years ago? He had earned his keep, had paid his share of the rent more regularly than either Ryan or Trevor. He had done his share of jobs and committed his share of crimes. He didn’t owe them anything, not for walking away, not for siding with Karen, not for turning his back on them. “I don’t owe you,” he disagreed, his tone mild, “and I’m not interested in your job.” He started to turn away, but Vinnie’s next words stopped him.

  “Yeah, all you’re interested in is that redheaded bitch your old man married and her pretty little teacher friend.”

  Slowly turning back, he fixed a cold, deadly gaze on the other man. In all the years they had run around together, he never had liked Vinnie. Ryan had liked the criminal life for the money, the prestige and the reputation as a man not to be messed with. Trevor had followed his brother into it. But Vinnie didn’t care so much for the money, the reputation or the fear. He just liked hurting people. It gave him the same sort of rush other people got from booze or drugs. “Getting fixated on Karen got Ryan killed,” Reid reminded him, his voice harsh for all its softness. “Are you going to make the same mistake, Vinnie?”

  Marino opened his mouth to respond, then glanced to Reid’s right and apparently thought better of it. Slapping his hands on the roof of the car, he slid in, calling as he did, “We’ll see you around, Donovan. You’d better be looking for us.” He gave one last bang on the roof through the open window as the car resumed its slow journey.

  Jamey was standing somewhere off to his right, Reid knew without looking. Everyone in the neighborhood was intimidated by Jamey, even the baddest of the bad. Reid wasn�
�t even sure why. In all the years he’d lived on Serenity, Jamey had never gotten into a fight, had never been the reason behind anyone’s arrest, had never done anything to earn the sort of respect he’d gotten. He had made threats and given warnings, but he’d never been forced to carry through because everyone had been afraid of him. Ryan and Vinnie had routinely backed down from him. Reid had always backed down, except for the one occasion when he’d punched him. No one had had the nerve to find out if he would make good on the threats.

  For a long time, Reid had been convinced that he would. Now he wasn’t. Oh, he had no doubt that Jamey would do whatever was necessary to protect the things important to him—O’Shea’s, Kathy’s House, Karen, Cassie and the others—but Reid suspected that a great many of those times over the years, Jamey’s threats had been all bluff.

  “Getting rid of those two would sure go a long way toward cleaning up Serenity.”

  Reid finally turned and saw his father leaning against the wall at O’Shea’s. “I could have handled this myself.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You didn’t have to say anything. Just coming out here was enough.”

  “You have many run-ins with them?”

  Reid shook his head as he started toward the bar. “I usually manage to not be around when they are.”

  “That’s probably good advice for everyone.” Jamey turned into the first set of doors, walking past empty tables to the bar. Reid followed and sat down on the end barstool. “You want a drink?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll get one when I eat.”

  Jamey pulled up a stool on the opposite side and made himself comfortable. “What are your plans for the afternoon?”

  “I never have plans.” But that wasn’t entirely true today. At odd moments during the morning, he’d found himself thinking about Cassie’s apartment and his own, about that look on her face when he’d caught her looking around curiously. He’d been satisfied for more than six months with the place where he lived, but lately he’d found himself thinking that he might like it better if everything weren’t quite so shabby. He’d lived in tattered, worn-out, run-down places all his life, and there was no reason for it, not when a few coats of paint could make all the difference in the world.

  “I was wondering...” Feeling the weight of Jamey’s gaze, he broke off. Was he really about to ask permission to repaint the apartment? He, who hadn’t put a single nail in the wall, who hadn’t moved a piece of furniture, who hadn’t done a single thing to make the place look like someone was living there?

  Yeah, he was. Why shouldn’t he? It was Jamey’s apartment, granted, but there was no way his old man was ever moving back in, not with Karen across the street. He had agreed to Cassie’s paint job without any hesitation, and, hell, Reid was living there and had been for months.

  “Wondering about what?” Jamey asked when the silence had dragged on too long.

  “If I could paint the apartment.”

  “You can do whatever you want with it. It’s your place.”

  He said that last part so casually, as if it were understood. Well, Reid had never understood it. He had never had a place to call home with any sense of permanence. With Meghan he had always known that, usually sooner rather than later, she would quit paying the rent and they would be evicted if they didn’t sneak out in the middle of the night first. On Serenity, his grandmother had told him up front that his welcome in her home would soon run out, and with the Morgans, any time Ryan had wanted to kick him out, he would have.

  “Like I told Cassie, Karen’s got gallons of paint over in the workshop. Before you buy anything, see if she’s got what you need.”

  “I will. Thanks.” Sliding to the floor, Reid circled the bar and went upstairs. Instead of going straight to the bathroom for a shower, though, he let himself into the apartment and stopped in the middle of the living room. It’s your place. It was still the same shabby place, but those three little words made a difference. He could hang some of his sketches on the walls. He could rearrange the furniture, could even get rid of it and bring in new pieces. He could build those shelves he’d wanted in the closet. He could put his mark on the apartment and make it his own place.

  And if the day came when Jamey asked him to leave, at least for a time it really would have been his place.

  “Hi.”

  Startled, he turned to see Cassie standing in the doorway. She wore a denim skirt that reached practically to her ankles with a skinny white top underneath a chambray shirt that was unbuttoned and tied at her waist. Her hair was pulled back from each side and fastened with a clasp, leaving the rest to fall down her back. She looked pretty and cool, and she made him hot.

  She stood there, hands together, waiting for him to speak. He asked the first question that came to mind. “Why aren’t you in school?”

  “It’s recess. Jaye’s watching the kids while I get my camera. We’re going to take pictures for a class portrait.”

  “Recess,” he repeated, feeling thickheaded and dim-witted. Instant arousal could do that to a man.

  “You know, the break in the middle of classes when the kids get to go out and play.”

  He shook his head to clear it. “The only part of school I excelled at. I was very good at playing.”

  She came a few steps closer. “I bet you were. I bet you still are.”

  One swallow wasn’t enough to clear his throat. He tried again. “If my clothes weren’t dirty, maybe I could show you.”

  Another few steps brought her right in front of him, with her gaze focused on his shirt. He knew Without looking that oil stains and dirt were smeared across the white cotton. He was a mechanic, working mostly on old engines. He couldn’t do it without getting plenty of dirt on himself. Cassie wasn’t the least bit put off by it, though. Grasping the hem of his shirt, she began tugging it upward, and he let her. Even though every protective instinct—every brutally honest instinct—he possessed was warning him to stop her, he stood there, unprotesting, and let her pull his shirt over his head and down his arms before dropping it on the floor.

  The smile she gave him was enough to make his mouth go dry. “There. Easily solved. The real problem is how much you can show me in the six and a half minutes before recess ends.”

  For a long time, he simply looked at her, hearing a clock ticking in time with the suddenly audible thud of his heart. At least a minute passed before he drew a deep breath and moved. He had to force himself to touch her, even though he wanted to. He wanted it more than he ever could have imagined, but he was so unused to getting what he wanted.

  He settled his hands at her waist and gave a tug. She came willingly the last step and laid her hands right above the waistband of his jeans. He wished he had all the time in the world, wished he could untie the knot in her shirt and slide it off, wished he could see her in just that thin little ribbed top that clung like a second skin. He wished he could stroke her, tease her, make her tremble, whisper sweet promises in her ear, cover her breasts with wet kisses and undo every button on that long skirt to allow him access for a few tormenting caresses.

  But for those things, they needed all night, at the very least, and all they had was recess.

  Slowly he slid his hands up, molding his palms to the shape of her as they moved across her rib cage, over her breasts, not hesitating long enough to see, feel, remember, before moving up the long, elegant line of her throat to her face. Then he kissed her. Light kisses, sweet and lazy, not too passionate, not too deep, but so damn intimate. They made him hot all over, a slow, achy heat that spread and intensified. It was the sort of heat—the sort of need—that could drive a man crazy, but only a little at a time.

  From somewhere outside, noise penetrated his mind. He would have ignored it, would have stayed lost with the woman in his arms, if Jamey hadn’t added his amused voice from the bottom of the stairs. “Hey, Cassie, your public’s waiting.”

  Reluctantly Reid ended the kiss, drawing back, then kissing her once m
ore before raising his head. The rushing in his ears started to fade, and he could better hear the clamor outside. Pulling her with him, he moved close enough to the window to see the entire student body of the Serenity Street Alternative School lined up along the fence in front of Kathy’s House, all laughing, giggling and calling their missing teacher’s name.

  “Well, darn,” she muttered, drawing a deep breath. “I’ve got to go.” Then she offered him a dazzling smile. “Maybe we can continue this later. I’ll be back by four. Will you be here?”

  “Yeah,” he answered, needing his own deep breath. “I’ll be here.”

  When Cassie stepped onto the sidewalk, camera in hand, a cheer went up in the school yard. She waited until she was in the middle of the street, then lifted her skirt in a deep, flourishing curtsy that made the kids laugh. Once she was on the opposite sidewalk, she glanced back at O’Shea’s, at one second-floor window in particular. She couldn’t see Reid, but she knew he was there. She could feel him.

  Jaye sent the kids running toward the arbor, then waited for Cassie just past the gate. “I don’t blame you for being late. He is cute,” she remarked, taking the camera.

  “Who?”

  “Don’t play innocent, child. You know good and well who I’m talking about. Reid. The rebellious son. The reluctantly doting stepson. The next-door neighbor. The notorious bad boy.” Jaye grinned. “What were you two doing up there?”

  “I was getting my camera. I forgot where I put it when I unpacked. I’ve only been living there a couple of days, you know. I’m not totally settled yet.”

  The other teacher subjected her to a long up-and-down look. “You’re right. You do look unsettled. Of course, if I ran into tall, blond and dangerous every time I left my apartment, I’d be unsettled, too.”

  “Reid’s not dangerous. He’s nothing like Vinnie Marino and the rest.”

  “Oh, darlin’, you are innocent. Marino, Morgan and those other little thugs...all they can do is steal you blind and take your life. Reid, though...that young man can break your heart.” Jaye’s expression turned bitter. “You tell me which one’s more dangerous.”