by BETH KERY
“Are you sure about that?”
He started. She either was the ballsiest woman he’d ever run into, the craziest or the meanest. Quite possibly she was all three.
“Yeah. I’m sure about that.” Turning, he walked out the door without looking back. But he had the impression that she remained behind her desk, frozen in the shadows.
Brigit Kavanaugh invited Liam and his sister Colleen to dinner at the house on Sycamore Avenue the next evening. After he’d filled up on his mom’s fried chicken, Liam retired to the front porch.
He brooded as he listened to the familiar sounds of the neighborhood evening tree frog orchestra and the waves hitting the beach at the end of the street. When his sister joined him on the front porch, he couldn’t help but notice she looked as irritated as he felt.
“Where’re the kids?” Liam asked, referring to Colleen’s two children, Brendan and Jenny. Colleen was a widow. Her husband, Darin, had been killed in service in Afghanistan three years ago.
“They’re watching that new video Mom got them. So what’re you frowning about?” Colleen asked grumpily before she plopped down on the porch swing.
“I was just thinking about the fried chicken. Do you think Mom is actually following her diet?”
Colleen’s grimace told him she’d been wondering the same thing. Their mother had had a mild heart attack last year. At Brigit’s latest checkup her doctor had told Colleen her mother had been neglecting her medications and ignoring her dietary restrictions. The news had stunned the Kavanaugh children, who had thought their mother was perfectly healthy.
“I think she is.” Colleen gave the screen door a furtive look. “I check with Margie at the pharmacy, and she says Mom has been picking up her medicine regularly. She only had one piece of chicken tonight, and she used vegetable oil to fry it.”
Liam sighed. They couldn’t follow their mom around like she was a two-year-old and make sure she followed doctor’s orders, after all. Brigit Kavanaugh was a warm, caring mother. She was also a well-guarded fortress when it came to her private life.
“I told you why I was frowning, so you spill about why you’re in such a bad mood,” Liam challenged his sister. “Oh, wait…I’ve got it. It’s Wednesday evening.”
Colleen pulled a face as she twisted her blond hair and clipped it at the back of her head. She didn’t respond, but she didn’t have to, really. His comment explained everything. Eric Reyes, Natalie’s older brother, volunteered at the facility where Colleen worked as a clinical social worker. Being around Eric tended to make Colleen a tad tetchy.
It wasn’t that Liam or Colleen didn’t understand Eric’s and Natalie’s anguish over the loss of their mother. It wasn’t even that they begrudged them for their suit against their father’s estate or the court order that resulted, whereby the majority of Derry Kavanaugh’s savings and property had to be liquidated to pay the Reyes and Itani families for damages. It was Eric Reyes’ insolent attitude whenever he encountered a Kavanaugh that really got to Colleen—and Liam, for that matter.
Unfortunately, Reyes volunteered at the Family Center—the treatment facility and organization for victims and survivors of substance abuse that Mari Kavanaugh had opened last year. Liam had learned from experience that his sister would likely be in a bad mood on Wednesday evenings, since Eric worked at the center on Wednesday afternoons.
“What’d the prince of physicians do this time to get your knickers in a twist?” Liam asked.
“He trumped me with one of my clients.”
Liam whistled under his breath. Colleen and Liam were close. They were only fifteen months apart in age, and they’d gone through a lot together as the two youngest Kavanaugh children. He could easily tell his sister was on a low boil at the moment, and he knew why. Colleen fought like a lioness for her clients. If he cared two cents about Eric Reyes, he’d actually feel sorry for the idiot for stepping into her clinical territory.
“I can put up with his cocky attitude. I have put up with it. But if he thinks he can mess with my clients or my course of treatment, he’s got another think coming,” Colleen said.
“Seems as if the Reyes family is stepping up the feud a tad.”
Colleen glanced at him sharply. “What do you mean?”
“I had a strange request for a meeting yesterday.”
“From who?”
“Natalie Reyes.”
Colleen’s aquamarine eyes went wide. “What in the world did she want?”
Liam glanced warily at the screen door, worried his mother might overhear. When he heard the distant clatter of a dish in the kitchen, he spoke in a low voice, giving Colleen the major details of his meeting with Natalie. She stared at him, obviously as stunned as he’d been.
“I don’t understand,” Colleen said when he’d finished his explanation. “What does she hope to accomplish by having someone investigate the crash—you, of all people? It happened sixteen years ago.”
“You’re telling me?” Liam asked wryly. “I was blown away when she said it.”
“What was Natalie like?” Colleen asked curiously, after a moment. “She’s so quiet. I’ve lived in Harbor Town for most of my adult life, but I’ve only caught glimpses of her in the distance. She works in that office downtown, but she’s practically a recluse.”
“She might be the solitary type,” Liam muttered, “but she’s every bit as annoying as her brother. She’s a block of ice.”
“And…”
“What?” Liam asked. He was confused by his sister’s manner—intense but hesitant at once.
“How bad was the scarring?”
Liam just stared at her. When Colleen took in his expression, she clarified. “On her face. It was in all the papers and news following the crash. Don’t you remember? The left side of her face was…” Colleen sighed sadly and began to rock back and forth on the swing. “They had photos of her in the papers. She was a beautiful little girl before the crash. That’s what a fair portion of Dad’s estate went toward. The judge ordered it for Natalie’s reconstructive surgery and compensation…if the surgery didn’t work.”
Liam blinked. Suddenly Natalie’s tendency to hide in the shadows made perfect sense. He didn’t want to believe it, for some reason, didn’t want to even consider what his sister had just said.
His mother had sequestered Liam and Colleen—her two youngest children—in Chicago after the crash, where the media clamor had been muted. He recalled few details from that gray, grief-filled time. They’d stayed in Chicago until Brigit had lost their family home in the lawsuit, and they’d relocated permanently to the vacation home in Harbor Town. By that time, the sensationalized reports in the news had tapered off, even if the memories and sometimes harsh judgments of the townspeople hadn’t.
“Liam?” Colleen prompted when he didn’t speak.
“I never saw any scars,” Liam replied hoarsely.
Colleen shook her head so that a portion of her long, thick hair fell from the twist on her head and coiled down her shoulder. “I’m not really sure what Natalie’s intentions were, but I do know it’s not uncommon for a trauma survivor to feel a need to make sense of what happened to them. Natalie Reyes was the only one who lived through that accident, after all,” Colleen said.
She sighed and kicked on the floor of the porch, sending the swing into squeaky motion. “If she struck you as cold, I’d imagine she comes by her aloofness honestly.”
The muscles in Natalie’s left eye began to twitch under the constant strain. She placed her hand over the scarred portion of the eyelid and pressed gently, trying to alleviate the familiar discomfort. Shutting the folder on the monthly financial reports for the Silver Dunes Country Club, she glanced at the clock. It was going on nine. She wasn’t tired, but her damn eye was, and that meant her work day was over whether she liked it or not.
A sigh of relief leaked between her lips when she flipped her desk lamp to the dimmest setting.
She started at the sudden sound of a knock on the door
, her hand falling to the desk. When the loud rapping resumed after a pause, she stood.
Who in the world was knocking? It was about the time Erma often began her night cleaning, but Erma had her own keys. Perhaps she’d forgotten them?
She hurried through the dark, silent waiting room, seeing a tall figure through the frosted glass of the front door. The outline was definitely not that of her short, stout cleaning lady. She hesitated before she flipped the lock.
“Who is it?”
“Liam Kavanaugh.”
Her hand moved clumsily as she fumbled with the lock. Why had he come back? Over the past forty-eight hours, she’d come to terms with the fact that she’d handled their meeting the other night all wrong. Natalie was only used to dealing with people in the cut-and-dried language of business and numbers. She didn’t have much of a social life. Of course she had a few friends, like Mari Kavanaugh, and she and her brother, Eric, were very close.
But she wasn’t “good” with people. And she had little experience in dealing with a man like Liam Kavanaugh.
Strike that. She had no experience in dealing with a man like Liam.
“Hello,” she said breathlessly after she’d swung open the door. A distant streetlight allowed her to see him. He stood on the sidewalk wearing a dark blue T-shirt and pair of faded, worn jeans that looked as if they’d been tailor-made for his body. All the Kavanaugh children had been natural athletes, Natalie recalled. Something about Liam’s balanced stance and long, lean frame reminded her of that.
Twilight made it difficult for her to read his expression, but she saw the gleam of his eyes beneath his lowered brow.
“Can we talk for a minute?” he asked.
She nodded. Even if he’d come here to castigate her more for her request, he was here. She’d have the opportunity to explain herself better. Despite her desire to do just that, nervousness bound her throat as she led him to her office. She immediately darted behind the safe fortress of her desk but looked up in surprise when Liam blocked her by standing in her path. He stood closer than she’d expected.
She flinched and began to step away, but he stopped her by encircling her wrist in his hand. He’d lowered his head. Her upturned face was less than a foot away from his. She stared at his cotton-covered chest, not really seeing anything. Instead, panic started to rise in her as she inhaled his clean, male scent.
“You never really answered me the other day—about what you hoped to discover with an investigation of a crash that happened sixteen years ago,” he said quietly.
“You never really gave me the chance.”
She shut her eyes briefly in regret. She could tell by the increased tension in his gripping hand that he’d been offended by her quick, sharp response.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so defensive,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She went back to studying his chest, trying to gather herself. “Maybe…maybe it’s difficult for you to understand my reasons.”
“Try me.”
Why did he persist in holding her? His touch unnerved her, as did his nearness, and this confession was difficult enough as things stood.
“I think a lot about what was going through your father’s mind on that night of the crash. You might think that my…obsession about it would have eased over the years, but it hasn’t. It weighs on me.” She lowered her head, blocking herself even more from Liam’s laserlike stare. “Maybe you’ll think it’s foolish, but it’s like an unhealed wound. It bothers me, not knowing what motivated him on that night. What made a father of four children, a successful lawyer and businessman, get behind the wheel of his car with the equivalent of twenty drinks in him? I wasn’t trying to insinuate he purposely caused the crash the other night,” she assured in a pressured fashion. “But there had to be some reason he was in the state he was. If I knew…if I could at least understand, maybe I could finally let it go.”
“Knowing wouldn’t change anything, Natalie.”
She blinked. His tone had sounded warm…concerned, even? She forced herself to remain still, her head bowed, even though she longed to look up at him in that moment and try to discern if his expression matched his voice.
“Maybe you’re right. But I need to try. I’ve talked it over with Mari. She said she’s read that it’s not uncommon for survivors of trauma to need to know all the details that led up to the event. It’s necessary for the grieving process…to make sense of things.”
“My sister Colleen said something similar. Does that mean you’re still grieving?”
This time she did look up—slowly. Standing as close as they were, she could make out his features despite the shadows. His expression was currently completely sober, as if his features had been carved from rock. The veins in her wrist seemed to swell and throb beneath his fingers.
“I’m done grieving. But it’s as if a few crucial pieces are missing from my life. I can’t seem to stop thinking about filling in those gaps.”
“Why me, then?” he asked after a moment.
“Mari has spoken so highly of you,” she whispered through leaden lips.
“And?” he prodded.
“I thought…I thought perhaps you might share some of my desire. To know the truth,” she added quickly.
His mouth quirked sardonically. “And of course it wouldn’t hurt that as a Kavanaugh, I might have some inside information.”
Her spine stiffened. What he’d said had pricked her. Her curiosity about Derry Kavanaugh was so great that it had appealed to her, this idea of having access to someone who knew so much about him.
“I’d considered it,” she said honestly, “but not in the unflattering light you seem to be imagining. Think whatever you want. You will anyway.”
For a few tense seconds they just stared at one another in the dim office. Natalie became hyperaware of the steady movement of his chest as he breathed in and out.
“Okay. I’ll take the job.”
“You will? That’s…that’s—”
It happened so quickly that she never had warning. The fluorescent overhead lights flared on, and her eyelids shut automatically at the unexpected intrusion. Still stunned, Natalie struggled to blink as a spasm went through the muscles of her left eyelid. It drooped involuntarily.
“Ms. Reyes,” Erma called out in surprise. “I didn’t realize you were in here!”
“Turn out the light,” Liam barked.
Natalie caught a fleeting image of a shocked-looking Erma standing just inside the open door of her office. She glanced up. She clamped her eyes closed, but not before the image of Liam Kavanaugh’s hungry stare was stamped permanently in her mind.
The light switch clicked, and the room was suddenly dim again.
“Are you all right, Ms. Reyes?” Erma asked, sounding anxious and contrite at once.
“Yes. Yes, of course. I’m fine,” Natalie murmured, barely holding down a rising tide of emotion. “We’ll be out of here in just a moment, Erma.”
“No problem. Like I said, I’m sorry for interrupting. Are you sure you’re okay?” She felt regretful for the anxiety in Erma’s voice. Natalie’s mother had been a cleaning lady and she was always extra considerate and respectful of Erma, knowing from experience how exhausting and solitary the work could be.
“I’m fine, Erma,” she said, using all her effort to keep her voice even. She kept her face averted. “Really, I am.”
Natalie heard the door shut. She jerked her arm, suddenly wild to get away from Liam, all of her usual tight control evaporating to mist. A sound of misery escaped her throat when instead of releasing her, he embraced her.
Chapter Two
“Calm down,” he said near her ear. “It’s okay.”
The unexpected eruption of emotion that shuddered through her flesh mortified and bewildered her. Plenty of people had looked at her face before. Plastic surgeons and doctors had scrutinized it, photographed it and even written medical journal articles on it. Townspeople constantly cast curious, furtive
glances her way at the grocery or drugstore.
Why was she crying just because Liam had seen her scars?
Maybe it was because none of those other people pinned her with such a piercing, honest gaze that made her feel so exposed.
“Just leave, please,” she muttered as she tried to pry herself out of his arms.
“Okay. Okay, I’ll go. But give me a second.”
Natalie paused in her struggling. Her breath seemed to burn in her lungs at the sensation of his long, jeans-covered thighs pressing against her own. It was a new experience for her, to be held against such a virile man. Her thoughts seemed to flit around her head like panicked moths trying to escape from her skull.
He cradled her jaw. She went entirely still when he brushed the pad of his thumb along her cheek. The movement mesmerized her, and she stared fixedly at his chest, afraid to raise her gaze, but never so aware of another human being in her life.
“The bright light hurts your eye?” Liam stated more than asked.
“You don’t have to feel sorry for me,” she blurted out angrily.
“I wasn’t feeling sorry for you,” he said, sounding slightly insulted. “I asked you a simple question. If we’re going to be working together, I want to know.”
“The muscles are weak in my left eye,” she murmured after a moment, contrite for her defensive reaction. “It tires easily. It’s sensitive to bright light.”
She sensed his nod of understanding. He resumed stroking her with his thumb.
“Is that why you prefer going to the beach in the moonlight?”
Her head jerked up, but she instantly regretted her move. His mouth was only inches from hers.
“What do you mean?”
“I saw you the other night. Dancing on the beach.”
She just stared at him. How could he have recognized her? The beach had been draped in shadow. She’d known him, but surely that was different. She had long practice in recognizing Liam, especially on a beach, where he seemed to belong.