by Beth Andrews
“When the police officer came to my door that night,” Harper said slowly, “when he told me Beau was dead, all I could think about was that now Cass would never be a big sister. My husband was dead and I was pissed that he’d taken that away from our child. Pretty stupid, huh?”
“You can’t help what you feel in a situation like that. Seems to me there’s no right or wrong way to be, to act. You were in shock.”
“I was. There were times when I wished I could’ve stayed in shock. During the viewing and the funeral, I wanted so badly to be numb but it was as if I’d suffered some sort of steam burn. My skin hurt, just the air against it was painful. Each breath was like inhaling fire. My head ached, my heart ached. There wasn’t one part of me that didn’t physically hurt for him. I wanted my husband back but no amount of praying or bargaining would make it happen.
“For a week after his funeral, I could barely move, couldn’t force myself to get off the couch I hurt so badly. But I had Cassidy. I had to make sure she was safe and taken care of. What kind of mother would I have been, what kind of wife if I’d let my child down during that time? So I’d force myself up and I’d feed and change her. I’d console her when she cried, live in her laughter, and at night, when she was asleep, I’d sit on the floor in the closet with one of Beau’s shirts pressed against my face and sob. Wish he was back. That he’d never been taken away from us.”
“You were angry.”
It wasn’t a question but she treated it like one. “Angry? No,” she said after a moment. “Not other than that initial reaction. I waited for the anger to come, at the shooter for taking my husband from me, for stealing my daughter’s father from her but...” She followed him up the walk to his house and they sat on the porch while Max raced inside to go to the bathroom. “He was just a kid. Did you know that?”
Eddie shook his head, sat and rubbed circles over Cass’s back as she twirled, twirled, twirled his hair.
“Barely seventeen,” Harper said of the boy who’d been convicted of Beau’s murder. “He’ll spend the majority of his life in prison, if not all of it. He was caught, tried and convicted and is being punished. My being angry doesn’t seem to suit much of a purpose now. I tried to be mad at Beau but other than wondering what would have happened, how my life would’ve been different if he’d stopped at a convenience store at another exit or if he’d filled the gas tank first before walking inside...any number of things, I couldn’t even muster up a good temper. He was just getting a cup of coffee and a candy bar.” She smiled. Her Beau loved his sweets. “It was a horrible thing, a tragic moment that snuffed out a promising life, that changed my life forever.
“But the hardest part wasn’t the living without him. It was realizing that I had been living without him for months just fine. Life went on, and getting up got easier, smiling and laughing and remembering him without breaking into tears became easier. I kept living.”
“He would have wanted you to.”
“Yes, he would have. Just like I would have wanted him to move on if something had happened to me. We weren’t meant to live in the past. Humans are resilient. It’s how we get through tragedies. It’s what makes us strong, sympathetic and compassionate. I loved him. I loved him so much, but he’s not here.” Wrapping her courage around her, she took Eddie’s hand. “He’s not here but I am. And I’m ready to move on. With you. If...if you still want me.”
* * *
EDDIE SQUEEZED HER HAND, felt his heart warm. “I still want.”
He wanted her. He wanted her in his bed, but more than that, more frightening than that, he wanted her around. Wanted to hear her laugh and see her smile, wanted to play with her kid and watch Harper read to his son.
It was dangerous, risky. His track record sucked, and he’d screwed up with Lena, with the whole marriage deal. But Harper wasn’t asking for a commitment, not a long-term one consisting of vows, a church, a white dress and wedding bands that were like handcuffs. What they had was the here and now. No plans for the future. She was still getting over her husband. Maybe she had no desire to remarry.
But Eddie suspected she would marry. Someone like her, she’d enjoy being part of a couple, would want that give and take, that partnership that came with marriage. With certain marriages, he amended. His parents had one of the good ones. They were each other’s best friend but still had passion for each other. That was probably how Harper’s marriage was, too. Not like his and Lena’s where it was always strained and stressed, where there was little joy, little in common and, toward the end, more resentment than was healthy for either of them.
Yeah, Harper would find someone, some nice guy willing to take her kid as his own, to be a father to Cassidy and give her the time and attention little girls needed from their daddy. Who’d love Harper, who’d want to be tied to her for the rest of his life.
Whoever he was, Eddie knew, he was one lucky bastard.
But he wasn’t cut out for marriage. He’d proven that. It was too hard, too painful and messy when it ended.
This, sitting on the porch with pretty Harper Kavanagh by his side, her daughter falling asleep in his arms, his son searching through his candy, was enough for now. It had to be.
* * *
TWO WEEKS LATER, Eddie was working at Bradford House when Harper came rushing in, still wearing what he considered her teacher clothes—pants and some sort of sweater set. Her hair was down, her shoes sensible, and she even wore a bracelet one of her kids must have given her, one made of paper chains with apples and pencils drawn on the links.
“You okay?” he asked. Though they’d been seeing each other for those two weeks, and had spent a few evenings together, along with at least one day each weekend, she’d never sought him out at work. Which was unusual as most people wanted to get a look at the goings-on at Bradford House, even if they didn’t have anything to compare the renovations to, such as what the place had looked like before.
“Fine,” she said but she was breathing hard, trying to catch her breath. “Sorry—” She waved her hand in front of her face. “I had to park on the road and I sort of jogged up the driveway.”
Christ, but she was adorable. He felt himself grin. He was doing that a lot lately. Smiling. Being happy. “How does one sort of jog?”
“If you’d ever seen me go at anything other than a brisk walking speed, you wouldn’t have to ask that question.” She bent at the waist, caught her breath, then straightened and brushed back a loose piece of hair. “Wow.” She did a slow turn, took in the fancy, gourmet kitchen. “Let me repeat—wow.”
It was something. Marble counters from Italy, heated stone floor, the cabinets Eddie and Heath had made from the imported wood with leaded glass fronts.
“This is gorgeous,” Harper said, moving around the room, her fingers trailing along the cool edge of the counter. “You made these, right?” she asked, taking in the corner hutch he’d built.
“We found some old photos of the place in the attic. There was a hutch here before so we decided to add one again.”
“You do beautiful work.”
He shrugged. It was what he did, what he enjoyed most. He could lay floors, put up trim, frame windows and doors—he could and did do it all. But he was happiest, most content when he was working on something that was his idea, when he made something out of nothing but boards, nails and glue.
Harper shook her head as if to clear it. “Sorry, I got so excited over how great this place looks, I forgot why I ran up that driveway in the first place.” She dug something out of her huge bag and shoved it into his face, reminiscent of what Max had done when Eddie had sat in her classroom. “Look!”
He accepted the paper but it took him a moment to realize what he was seeing. He glanced at her then the paper then her again. “Is this what I think it is?”
Smiling ear to ear, she nodded. “It’s a C. Plus.”
> Max had done it. After all his tutoring sessions, and Eddie doing the steps with him at home that Harper had suggested, after all the studying and practicing, Max had slowly progressed and had been doing better. But this, a C—a C plus—was incredible.
“Guess you were right,” Harper said but she didn’t sound upset that she’d been wrong about Max’s evaluation. She sounded thrilled, as happy as Eddie felt. “He just needed some help and maybe a bit of pushing.”
His son was going to be okay. He wasn’t going to be put into special classes or given medication to help him concentrate and stop his constant movement. He was fine. He was just fine.
“What did he say when he saw this?” Eddie wanted to know, pulling Harper aside when Art, one of the workers, came in carrying trim.
“I didn’t tell him yet. I was grading papers and after I graded his...well...I sort of did a whoop, grabbed my stuff and came right over. I couldn’t wait to tell you, and I thought you’d like to be the one who showed him.”
He was swamped with unnamed feelings for her, feelings he didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone define. “Thank you,” he said, his voice gruff. “But I have a better idea. Let’s tell him together.”
* * *
IT WAS A CELEBRATION to end all celebrations. Harper had left Cassidy with her parents for the night and she and Eddie had taken Max into Pittsburgh for dinner and a hockey game. Max was thrilled, his face alight as he watched the players during their warm-up skate. Maddie had asked Neil to pull some strings and he’d managed to get them seats behind the players’ bench. They even got to meet some of the team afterward. Now, they drove back to Shady Grove, Max worn out in the backseat, fast asleep in his oversize jersey.
He’d been thrilled when he’d seen his test paper. The entire day and evening had been a whirlwind. Eddie took her hand. It was always a thrill when he touched her, not that he did it much. They kept things pretty PG in front of the kids. She knew Max told some of the kids in the class that his teacher and dad spent time together but so far, she hadn’t seen any problems from it. But there were times when Eddie would brush his fingers against the back of her wrist or touch the ends of her hair. Times when he’d walk her to her car and kiss her good-night.
She loved those times.
But while they’d been seeing each other, other than Halloween, they hadn’t gone out of their way to announce their relationship to anyone. Joan had seemed distracted lately and Harper worried it was because she knew about her and Eddie, but Harper hadn’t been brave enough to approach the subject yet. She would. Eventually. She just wanted a little more time to get her head clear, her feelings straight before trying to explain them to anyone else.
They pulled off onto the exit to Shady Grove. She’d left her car at his house so he could get Max and get ready and they’d taken off. Max had been so excited and Harper was glad they’d done this for him.
Eddie pulled into his garage and cut the engine. “I had a great time,” she told him as she unbuckled her seat belt. “Thank you for including me.”
“You deserved it.” He played with the ends of her hair, his expression unreadable in the dimly lit garage. “Harper...” He slid his hand to her neck, cupped her head gently, then leaned forward and kissed her so warmly, so sweetly she was surprised she didn’t melt into a puddle. “Thank you.”
“Well, I have been told I’m an excellent kisser,” she teased. “But no one’s ever thanked me for it. But you’re very welcome.”
His grin flashed. She loved that she could make him smile, could make him laugh, this quiet, stoic man who kept so much of himself hidden. But he didn’t keep everything hidden from her. He was opening up to her, slowly but surely.
“I mean thank you for what you did for Max.”
“That’s my job.”
“Don’t,” he said quietly. “Don’t brush aside what you do. You care about those kids. You take extra time to help them. You give up time with your own daughter and you fight for them. You make a difference in their lives.”
Touched, she trailed her fingers down his cheek. “Thank you for saying that. It means a lot to me that you feel that way.”
“Come inside,” he whispered, kissing her again. “Let me take you to bed. Let me make love to you.”
And she knew, she couldn’t refuse. “Yes.”
* * *
HE WAS NERVOUS.
As nervous as he’d been the night he’d lost his virginity, Eddie realized, as he shut the door to Max’s bedroom. There was a lot more at stake now than what the pretty, and yes, more experienced, Ashley White was going to say about him and his skills, or lack thereof, the next day.
He turned and found Harper standing at the end of the hall. Crossing to her, he took her hands and led her into his bedroom. She was so lovely, so bright and fun and sweet. He couldn’t get enough of her time and attention, and that worried him. But not tonight. Tonight she was his and that was all that mattered.
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her slowly, thoroughly, not wanting to rush her, to rush this. Degree by degree, she seemed to warm, to respond to him until her hands were in his hair, her body flush against his. She was all soft, sweet-smelling skin and lush curves, and he wanted, more than anything, to lose himself in that sweetness. To surround himself with her and her goodness, her patience, her sense of humor and optimism.
He slid his hands up her sides, her arms and over her shoulders so he could comb his fingers through her hair. It was like silk, fragrant and soft, and felt cool as rain. She made a humming sound that told him she liked what he was doing so he did it again, breaking the kiss so he could lean back and see the contrast of his dark hand against the pale strands of her hair.
Her lips were parted and she opened her eyes. Smiled, but he could see the tension in her gaze, in the set of her shoulders. Damn it, he should have set the mood more. He’d asked her to come inside, to sleep with him like this had been any other night, as if she could’ve been any other woman. He should have waited, should have made plans for Max to stay with his grandparents, then Eddie could have made Harper dinner, one of those candlelight ones with good wine and some soft, smoky jazz tune playing.
He hadn’t romanced her. Hadn’t sent her flowers or cards or candy. He wasn’t good at any of that. He preferred the direct route. He was attracted to her and she to him so why bother with a bunch of stuff that didn’t matter. Except it did matter to some women. He hadn’t given her romance, but it wasn’t too late for him to seduce her.
He flipped on the lamp on the dresser. It wasn’t the flickering of candlelight but it did cast the room in a soft, warm glow. Harper smiled at him almost shyly, certainly with nerves but also, he hoped, anticipation.
He kissed her again, long, slow drugging kisses. Their mouths clinging then parting, their tongues touching then retreating. He cupped her head, let his other hand rest above her breast, just over her heart. It beat, strong and a bit unsteady against his palm. He kissed her again and again until they were both breathless and then he shifted, moved his mouth across her cheek up to her closed eyes, down the bridge of her nose.
She was perfect. Lovely and sweet, and she deserved to be worshipped. He’d enjoy worshipping her. He trailed his mouth across her jaw and her head fell back, granting him access to the long line of her throat. He flicked his tongue out, tasted the saltiness of her skin.
Straightening, he undid the top button of the silky blouse she’d changed into before they’d gone out, keeping his eyes on hers. Her hands were at her sides, her fingers curled into fists. He slid his gaze down, watched as he revealed inch after inch of delicate, pale skin. Another button and he caught sight of the lace of her bra. He made quick work of the rest of them until the material fell open slightly, revealing the curve of her breasts, her belly button, hints and glimpses as tantalizing as Harper herself.
Eddie s
hoved the material aside, pushed it down her arms where it bunched. He took her hands, rubbed them gently until she relaxed, letting her fingers open so that the shirt fell to the floor. He undid the button of her jeans and she inhaled sharply. He tugged down the zipper, pulled the sides of her jeans down her legs, let her put her trembling hands on his shoulders while she stepped out of them. He kicked them aside. Blew out a ragged breath.
She stood before him in nothing more than a white bra and light blue panties, the lamp casting her skin in a golden glow. He swept his gaze up from her bare feet with the bright pink polish, up her curvy legs and hips, over the slight roundness of her belly to her full breasts. Her nipples were tight buds pressing against the thin material of her bra.
“You’re beautiful.”
And saying that to her was the easiest, the most natural thing in the world.
Now he’d show her how beautiful he found her. He kept his touch light as he skimmed her neck, her shoulders, traced the edge of her bra with his fingertip. He couldn’t get enough of her, the feel of her under his hands, under his mouth. He placed hot, openmouthed kisses along her clavicle bones, dipped lower to brush across the swell of her breasts. He inhaled her fragrance, that scent he’d become so familiar with, the one that drove him mad, that would always remind him of her.
Reaching behind her, he undid her bra, tugged it off. Heat suffused him. She was perfect. He touched her breasts, lowered his head and sucked one taut peak into his mouth. Feasted on her, on her sweetness and fire. She combed her fingers through his hair, held his head still with one hand, the other clutching his shoulder as if he was her only touchstone, the only thing keeping her upright and balanced.
He flicked his tongue over her nipple then moved his head to the other breast, slid his hands between her hips and her panties, his palms cupping the curve of her waist. Shoved her underwear down, trapping her legs together as they caught at her knees. He kissed his way over the slight ridges of her ribs, across the slope of her belly. She was all lush curves, like a goddess come to life, her skin warm and so soft he couldn’t stop touching her. Couldn’t stop making sure she was real, that for tonight, she was his.