Emma inhaled sharply. “How could you say that? The minute you brought that little speck of evidence to my attention, I’ve moved Heaven and Earth to discover the truth.”
“Why’re you suddenly giving up? I don’t understand this.”
“I’m not giving up. I’m being realistic. My father’s dead and nothing I can do will bring him back.”
“He’s not dead, and if the roles were reversed he’d go to his grave searching for you.” Nate stepped forward and pointed a shaking finger in her face. “No matter how much money it took.”
Emma blanched. Was he right? By doing as Stone asked and ending Clover’s overseas investigations, was she killing her father all over again. Nate pressed closer.
“You can’t shut down Clover.”
“I have to.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, and she stepped back, away from the angry accusation pouring from Nate’s eyes. It’s the right choice, she told herself silently. Stone’s flesh and blood. My father’s a ghost.
The evidence Nate brought her five years ago never panned out. Every tie leading back to that cryptic message went nowhere. The last report received from Clover indicated they’d discovered Hugh Gallagher’s grave, and it apparently contained his remains.
She shouldn’t be struggling with this decision.
It’s time to move on.
“It’s your conscience you’ll be dealing with, Emma. You’ll be the one responsible for burying your father down the line. How do you think that will feel? Knowing he’d been rotting in jail for years while you played mistress to my son?”
Emma bit her lip, struggling against the tears. His words knifed her heart, spurting forth guilt and anger all mixed together in a whirlpool of hurt. “That comment was uncalled for,” she said in a soft voice. “Don’t come here anymore until you’ve calmed down. You’ve no right to speak to me that way.”
“I owe him my life, Emma.”
“He’s gone, Nate. Accept it.” She softened her voice reached for the man who’d raised her. “You don’t owe him anymore. You’ve taken care of me and helped me be the person I am today.”
Nate backed away, his gaze burning fiercely. “All I’ve done is hide you and look at the damage that’s created.”
His words stinging, she turned and headed up the drive, her heart ripped and bleeding.
***
Stone stepped from the shadows and held an arm out to prevent his father from following Emma.
“Stone…” Nate said quietly, turning his attention from Emma’s retreating form.
“It’s time to leave.”
“You don’t understand…”
Stone shook his head. “If that isn’t a line I know well. I’m not a little boy anymore, and I damn well do understand. Get off my property.”
“You can’t let her do this.”
“Do what?”
“Shut down Clover.”
“What’s Clover to you?” Stone knew about Nate’s interest. It’d bothered him that Emma’s relationship with his father extended beyond River Run, beyond the fact that he’d been a surrogate father. An emotional tie of a phone call every now and then to check on one another seemed far less invasive to Stone than the fact they were in business together. He knew she’d never force Nate out of her life the same way he knew he’d never allow him in to his.
“It’s my chance for redemption.”
Stone laughed bitterly.
“Fine,” Nate said. “I don’t expect you to understand. Do this for Emma then. It’s everything to her. Damn it, Stone, don’t you see? Emma’s doing what she always does. She puts everyone else’s lives and loves before her own.”
“I’m not following you and, honestly, I don’t think I care. Now, leave.”
“She loves you.”
Stone glared at his father. “It’s no concern of yours.”
“It is when she’s sacrificing her life…her needs.”
“Maybe,” Stone spoke slowly, opening the gate and shoving his father through. “You’d better explain what you mean by that.”
“By protecting you and River Run, she’s committing her father to death.”
Stone frowned. “Nice try at attempting to invoke more self-doubt, Nate. Her father’s already dead.”
“No. He’s not. Ask Emma. She’ll explain all about Clover’s investigations. Then tell her you don’t care and let her find her father. Let her put her own needs above yours.”
“I’ve heard enough lies from you old man. You’re more delusional than I thought. Get off my land.”
Stone slammed the gate shut, locking it tightly. He didn’t glance at his father again, but jogged up the drive. Afternoon loomed ahead and pumpkins called. A few hours of innocent chatting with little kids and mindless carving of a holiday tradition sounded damn fine to him. He squashed the uncomfortable doubt that tugged at him.
Certainly Emma wouldn’t put the best interests of River Run over her father? Would she?
***
After calming her inner turmoil and washing away the remnants of tears, Emma headed to the picnic table out back. She paused and watched in amazement.
Stone sat between little Sally Haven and her older brother, Matthew. The two children chattered away, digging their small hands into the depths of the opened pumpkins. Piles of seeds and mush scattered the table, the children, and Stone.
She inhaled sharply as he turned his head to laugh at something Sally said. He appeared happy. Emma wanted him to act like that with her, unreserved, carefree…alive. The mixed signals drove her nuts. One second, he flirted and tossed her burning gazes full of want and desire…the next, his eyes iced over, pushing her away and declaring his distance.
It’s time, she thought. Time for honesty.
Emma smiled as she headed for the picnic table. She’d seen the results of Stone’s handiwork for the afternoon. The youngest children were finished with their pumpkins and now lay napping within their parent’s room. River Run’s guests lounged before crackling fires, shooting pool and thoroughly enjoying the respite granted them by the impromptu pumpkin carving project.
Stooping for a quick pat and quiet word with Pocahontas, she shivered as a chill breeze swooped across the pasture. Stone rose from the table, making room for her to sit between the last remaining children.
“Here,” he said, stripping off his jean jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders. “Who dressed you this morning?”
The children giggled, and she rolled her eyes in an exaggerated display of disdain. “Certainly not you.”
Stone’s eyes darkened and the brief flare of passion sent her breath racing after the brisk breeze. “I’m contemplating changing that.”
“My Mommy dresses my Daddy every morning,” Sally piped in. “She says he’s blinded by color.”
Emma laughed and settled comfortably between the children. “Sally, what kind of face are you making?”
“I want a happy face,” the little girl said.
“She’s such a baby,” Matthew interrupted. “I told Mr. Connor I want a scary pumpkin. One with fangs and horns.”
“Horns? My, aren’t we creative. I think I’m going to help Sally and carve her a happy face.”
The light banter and distraction created by the children aided in calming the tingles of awareness coursing the length of her body. Stone sat across from her, their knees touching beneath the narrow wooden table, each movement a friction sparking flashes of desire. They worked in silence, answering the children but not one another.
She couldn’t look up. Every glance into his wanting eyes pushed her closer to blurting out her demands. And that definitely wouldn’t be proper in front of the Haven kids. Emma stopped all movement. Stone’s foot tickled her shin then moved slowly upward. Her eyes flew up to meet his bemused expression and a treacherous grin tugged at his mouth.
“Hi,” he said softly.
“What?” She couldn’t think. His touch ignited all sorts of inappropriate responses from her body.
“Hi.”<
br />
“Hi yourself.” Emma frowned and bent her head to hide the crimson flush she knew crept at an alarming rate from her neck to the roots of her hair.
“I figured I’d better remind you that I’m over here.”
Damn him. His foot continued massaging her leg. “Trust me, I know you’re there.”
“I don’t think so.”
Emma added the final touch to Sally’s pumpkin and turned the carving around for the little girl’s approval. Sally squealed in delight
“Can I go show my Mommy?”
“Sure,” Emma answered. “But be careful not to drop it.” Helping Sally lift the fat ball, she made sure the little girl could carry it easily. Matthew traipsed behind his sister, proudly displaying his own creation.
Suddenly they were alone. No children to buffer the uncomfortable silence.
Stone reached over and grabbed her hands pulling her across the narrow table so her face was barely an inch from his.
“I’m tired of dancing.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I’m done shuffling awkwardly around this house, snuggling close then hopping backward every time the phone rings. I want you beside me as a partner and in my bed as a lover.” He released her hand and cupped her cheek. “Don’t turn away. I know you feel the same. I see it in your eyes.”
Emma inhaled and plunged forward certain her accusations were about to put an end to this ridiculous discussion.
“What about your girlfriend?”
“My what?” He honestly appeared shocked. He must think her an idiot.
“You know, deep, sexy voice on the other end of the phone. Are you willing to give her up? Because I don’t share well.”
“Me neither, but I’m willing to try.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I have to accept your attachment to my father, and you’ll have to accept my need for a therapist every now and then. Trust me, I don’t give a bat’s flip about myself, but I need to make sure I don’t hurt you or anyone else for that matter. It’s a weakness, I know.” Stone released her and stood up from the table. He glanced at the sky then shot his steel blue gaze down straight into her soul. “But I don’t care. I’m going to fight for us. I’m going to make you understand that we’ve something special here.
Emma wasn’t certain how to respond. “Your therapist?”
Stone paused his nervous movements and stared at her. “I can’t promise I won’t hurt you. I’m not good at caring. But I can guarantee you there’s no one else in my bed...or in my heart. You’re it. I’ve crossed the finish line. I’m done running.”
Picking up a handful of seeds that dripped with stringy pulp, she turned and ignored the don’t-you-dare look that crossed Stone’s eyes. Emma stood, cast one last glance at a face she loved dearly, and smeared the soggy mess from his forehead to his chin.
He choked, sputtered and grabbed her waist. “Oh no, you don’t,” Emma said, muffling her giggles and snatching another handful of gunk. This time she dropped it down his shirt and watched his face turn deep red as her palm smashed and crushed the wet slop against his skin. “I have weeks of misery to hand you. I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been. I should have just asked.”
“Yep, you shoulda.” Stone stood abruptly, swooped her up in his arms and held her tightly against his sodden chest. He grinned, her stomach fluttered with a million feather swipes of hope and desire. Bits of pumpkin clumped in his hair, and he reeked like day old garbage.
“You stink.”
His chest rumbled, and she couldn’t prevent her answering laughter. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, placing a sticky kiss on her cheek and nuzzling her neck. She didn’t care. It felt wonderful and delicious.
“You need a shower.”
Stone paused, the smile slipping from his face. He held her gaze, his eyes burning with emotion. “Not without you.” His words challenged, taunting her to turn her back…retreat into indifference. Replay all their past dances.
“Then I’m glad you’re staying in your suite.” She watched the cloud of doubt snake across his eyes, and smiled a sly grin. “My bathroom is way too small for us.”
His arms relaxed, and she slid slowly to the ground feeling every inch of his tight body. Stone wrapped his hands within her hair, pulling her face roughly to his. A harsh whisper caressed her ears. “You try my patience.” His lips locked on her mouth, and the world disappeared, tumbling into a vacuum of white clouds and hot breath.
When he released her, Emma grabbed his arm to steady herself. Her knees trembled. But she didn’t care. This man knocked her world upside down and that’s all that mattered. “Time for that shower?” she said, walking backward and raising her eyebrows.
“You betcha.” He lunged for her, and she ran laughing across the yard, making a bee-line for his suite. With a quick mental tally, Emma knew that Sunday meant pizza night for the resort guests. Her responsibilities were done for the day.
***
Emma slipped through the French doors and stopped. Inhaling the pure masculine scent of Stone’s suite, she realized with a start it belonged to him. She’d always held out for the time when she’d be able to reclaim these rooms. Now, all she wanted involved the man standing behind her.
“What?” he said. His voice hitched, as if he were afraid she’d change her mind.
“I…” Emma turned then frowned. The look on his face silenced the rest of her words. “What’s the matter?”
His eyes glistened brightly in the late afternoon light and a muscle twitched above his left cheek. “You’re so beautiful.” Stone’s voice remained soft, but his intentions were clear.
“Wow, you had me scared for moment.” She swore if she weren’t attempting to control her legs, her knees would knock together.
“Scared?” He walked past her and flipped on the bathroom light. “Yes, I think you should be scared.” Stopping beyond the door, he turned and held his hand out to her. “There’s no turning back now O’Malley…you’re mine.” Everything inside her melted then curled into a tight ball of desire. Her mind couldn’t keep up with her heart. Emotions hot and fast poured through her nerves, sparking and flaring a passionate storm that blanketed all doubts, all reserve.
Her lips curved, and she tilted her head. Slipping the jean jacket off her shoulders, Emma allowed it to fall to her feet. With quick precise moves, she removed her shoes and socks then allowed her fingers to lazily unbutton the flannel shirt she wore. Stone’s hand dropped to his side, and he gazed intently into her face.
Discarding the shirt, Emma slipped out of her jeans. Stone’s nostrils flared and he leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms. The heat lighting his eyes spurred her pulse into rapid fire.
She rested her right hand between her breasts and slowly released her bra clasp. He inhaled sharply as satin lace glided to the floor. Emma walked forward, stepping into his arms with the grace of an eagle returning home. His hands grazed her skin, hot, insistent, possessive. Her arms snaked up, twining around his neck. “I’m not scared anymore.”
“I am.” Stone dropped his head and laced a trail of fiery kisses from her neck to her shoulder. His hands burned paths of liquid fire as he raked his fingers across her back. He lightly traced the fading bruises that scattered her left shoulder, placing a circle of tender kisses over the yellowed patches.
The piercing sound of a ringing phone stilled them both.
“If you dare answer that,” he threatened. “I’ll toss you back in the lake.”
She shook her head, standing on tiptoes and whispered in his ear. “Promise you won’t regret this.”
“Woman, that’s a promise easy to keep.” Yanking her through the door, he slammed it shut, closing out the incessant trill.
Emma laughed as he tossed his shirt on the floor, leaving him bare-chested and clad only in jeans. Her eyes followed the cluster of tight curls that surrounded his nipples then drew together in a thin line, dipping down beyond his waistband.
She reached out and snapped open his top button.
Her hand shook, and she swore if she inhaled her chest would explode. She’d never wanted a man like the one that stood before her. Steel blue eyes burned bright and hot, expecting…demanding. He cocked his head and winked.
Stone padded to the shower and turned it on. He glanced at her sheepishly. “You’re gonna have to wait one more second before I perform the duties you so eloquently demanded. I’m a bit sticky.”
She slipped out of her panties and stepped beneath the steaming water. “I’ll scrub.”
“Emma, you’re killin’ me.” He discarded his jeans and this time she inhaled sharply.
“I think I’m scared again.”
He leaned forward, snaking his hand behind her head and bringing his lips down onto hers for a tender kiss. “Too late, sugar.” He said softly, running his tongue gently against her teeth. “You and I are about to take a long walk down discovery lane.”
***
She smelled like jasmine and honey. He couldn’t catch his breath, it hitched and tightened in his chest. Stone figured his heart might break through his skin at any second. Its rapid pounding mirrored the desire slamming around his gut in waves of exquisite pain, wreaking havoc with his attempts at maintaining an even keel.
All his fantasies didn’t come close to the beauty of Emma standing beneath streaming water. His finger followed a trickle of water as it snaked from her shoulder, between her breasts and past her belly button. She gasped as he touched and searched, feeling her heat, amazed at her response to him.
She rubbed her hands lightly across his chest, soaping off the last remnants of pumpkin mash. Each touch sent bolts of desire pounding into his gut. Trying to slow his need, he chuckled at the memory of her anger and its consequences. If all his stupidity met with such pleasurable punishment, then he figured he must be in heaven.
“Why are you laughing?”
He nibbled her ear. She gasped, her nostrils flaring. “You covered me with pumpkin mash,” he said, his tone rough with want. Stone fought against dragging her up and burying himself mindlessly in her. This experience needed to be special. He touched her lips gently and slipped into the passion without fear or doubt, only love.
The Fifth Season Page 11