by Ruth Langan
Danny’s eyes grew round. “Did you know any of the pirates, Hannah?”
Her laughter rang on the air. “Well, that was a little before my time. But I’ve read about them. And swimmers and divers still find broken bits of swords and remnants of ancient ships that the pirates looted.”
“Wow. A sword.” The little boy turned to his father. “Think we could find something like that, Daddy?”
Ethan shrugged. “It’s worth looking for. Maybe something will wash up on our beach one of these days.”
“Could we keep it?”
“I don’t see why not.” Ethan glanced at T.J., who was rubbing his eyes. “But I think there’s one little pirate ready to head for home. That is, unless you guys would like me to order another hot dog and chocolate shake.”
The two little boys shook their heads while Ethan and Hannah exchanged smiles.
“Come on, you two.” Ethan picked up his youngest and caught Danny’s hand. “Maybe you can teach Hannah the alphabet song on the way home.”
“I can’t believe how quickly they fell asleep.” Hannah turned for another look at the two little boys, strapped firmly into their car seats. Their eyes were closed, their chests rising and falling in easy rhythm.
“It’s the motion of the car. No matter how they try, they can’t fight it.”
“It’s as though someone turned off a switch. One minute they were singing. The next they were out.”
“That’s how it is most nights. I’ll be in the middle of their bedtime story and look around to realize they’re gone.”
“They’re really sweet, Ethan. And you’re so good with them.”
“Thanks. So are you. I can’t believe you don’t have kids of your own. You’re a natural.”
She laughed. “Yeah. I’ve always been a sucker for kids and animals.”
“It shows.” He turned up the long curving driveway toward the barn looming in the darkness.
He switched off the engine and stepped out, rounding the hood to open her door.
As she stepped out, he offered a hand and she accepted. Though she was aware of the heat of his touch, she was determined to keep things light.
“This was fun. Thanks for dinner.”
“It’s the least I can do to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For making us laugh. I can’t think of anything that touches my heart like the sound of Danny’s and T.J.’s laughter.”
“You make it sound like some rare, precious commodity.”
“It is. Or at least it has been these past two years.” He kept her hand in his. “Come on. I’ll walk you to the door of your barn.” That had him chuckling. “I don’t believe I’ve ever said that to a woman before.”
She drew back. “I’m not comfortable having you leave the boys alone in the car, Ethan. We’ll say good night right here.”
“All right.” He looked down at their joined hands. And though he hadn’t planned it, he drew her close and brushed his mouth over hers.
It was the merest touch of their lips. But the moment it happened, they were both forced to absorb the most amazing jolt, as though struck by a bolt of lightning that left them breathless and more than a little afraid.
“Ethan.”
“Shhh.” His hands closed over her upper arms, and he dragged her against him, his mouth on hers in a kiss so hot, so hungry, it nearly devoured her.
Against her lips he whispered, “I’ve been wanting to do that for such a long time now. I thought I knew how you’d taste, but I was wrong. So wrong. You taste even better than anything I could have imagined.”
And then he was kissing her again, while his hands moved over her, drawing her even closer, until she could feel the thundering of his heart inside her own chest.
With a murmur of approval, her arms came around his neck and she gave herself up to the pleasure.
Some men, she thought, just knew how to kiss a woman. Ethan was such a man. His lips were firm, his mouth oh-so-insistent as it moved over hers, drawing out the sweetest sensations until she felt she was drowning in them. Her flesh was hot where he was touching her. And he was touching her everywhere. Her blood seemed to ebb and flow, starting a wild little pulse beating in her temples. And still she made no move to step away from the heat.
As he took the kiss deeper, she could feel her bones begin to go all fluid and soft, like wax to a flame. She had no will to stop him. If he chose, he could go on kissing her, holding her, forever. Or do with her what he pleased. She’d offer no objection.
Maybe it was the little sigh that escaped her lips or the way she opened to him, inviting him to take more. Whatever the reason, he suddenly seemed to go very still before lifting his head and stepping back.
The abruptness of his actions had her head spinning.
“Sorry.” His voice sounded gruff.
“Why? I’m not sorry, Ethan. To be honest, I’ve been hoping you’d do this.” She was smiling, but her smile faded when she caught his frown. The look in his eyes had her heart plummeting.
Now it was her turn to step back. “I can see that you don’t share my…enthusiasm. My mistake.”
Before she could turn away he swore and caught her arm, holding her still. “You’re wrong, Hannah. I do share your enthusiasm. If it were up to me, I’d make wild, passionate love to you right here, right now, before you had a chance to change your mind. But that wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“I think I’ll be the judge—”
He kissed her again, hard and quick, to silence her. Then with his hands at her shoulders holding her a little away, he sighed, “You’ve never once asked me about my wife.”
“I assume you’re divorced, that it wasn’t very pleasant and that you’d get around to telling me when you were ready.”
“You’re right on only one count. It wasn’t pleasant. But we weren’t divorced. My wife is dead.”
“Oh, Ethan. I’m sorry.” At her little gasp he saw her eyes soften with sympathy. “’re feeling disloyal because…”
Before she could say more he stopped her. “The last thing I want to do tonight is speak of it. But before this goes any further between us, you deserve some cold, hard facts.”
“All right. What are the facts?”
“My wife’s life was ended by her own gun. And though it was made to look like suicide, the authorities are divided on that. Some believe she was murdered.”
“Murdered? Oh, Ethan.” The pain in his eyes had her reaching a hand to his cheek. “How horrible. For you and your sons. No wonder you don’t want to speak of it.”
He caught her hand in his. The pain in his eyes fled, replaced by a look so hot, so fierce, it frightened her. “That isn’t the end of it, Hannah.”
“What…?”
He shook his head, and the question died on her lips.
“To those authorities who believe Elizabeth was murdered, I’m the prime suspect. The only reason I haven’t been charged is because there isn’t enough evidence to arrest me, or anyone else.” He looked down once more at their hands, and she thought she saw regret before he released her and stepped back. “If you’d be more comfortable having someone else finish the landscaping in my yard, I’ll understand.”
He slid behind the wheel and closed the door before putting the car in Reverse.
As he backed away, he saw her illuminated in the glow of his headlights, standing as still as a statue. For one wild moment he thought about going back and telling her everything. It would feel so good to unburden himself to someone willing to listen. And he sensed that Hannah was the sort of woman who would listen and withhold judgment until the bitter end. But then the moment passed, and he knew that it was best if he went home. Alone.
On the long drive back, he berated himself for his damnable sense of honesty. For these few days he’d actually allowed himself to pretend that none of the horror of the past had been real. He’d almost begun to feel like every other young widower, playing with his sons, laughing, eating, sleepi
ng and even allowing himself to consider a future.
It would have been fine except for one thing: there was too much goodness, too much honesty and integrity, in the woman he’d begun seeing in that future.
Whatever pain he felt, he had no right to inflict it on Hannah. Like his sons, she was an innocent party in this.
He’d been right to end it now, before it had a chance to flourish.
He swore softly and glanced at the two little boys who slept so peacefully. They would be heartbroken when Hannah stopped coming around. It seemed especially cruel to hurt them again when they’d been so wounded by all that had already happened in their young lives. But this was the right thing to do. Better to hurt them now than later, when the bond would have become deeper. He’d already sensed that they were opening their hearts to Hannah. And why not? She was the best thing that had happened to them in two years.
It had been fun to pretend for these past few days that he was just another guy, falling under the spell of a wonderful girl who could be part of a bright, shiny future. Now it was time for a reality check.
He lived under a cloud of suspicion, and would until the mystery of his wife’s death had been solved. Until that time he had no right to drag someone as special as Hannah Brennan into his own particular kind of hell.
Chapter 9
Hannah stood just inside the doorway of the barn, watching as Ethan’s car disappeared into the darkness. Without even realizing what she was doing, she climbed the stairs to her apartment. Once inside she moved mechanically across the room to the kitchen, where she turned on the kettle for tea. While she waited for the water to boil she stood on her balcony and lifted her head to stare at the midnight sky.
Ethan’s admission had caught her by such surprise, she’d been absolutely speechless. That was a first for her.
After sensing his hunger and then his retreat, she’d been mentally preparing herself to hear some sort of manly confession—that the torment of his wife’s suffering through a long and painful illness had left him unable to love again. She’d even braced herself for a declaration that he had vowed never to marry for the sake of his wife’s memory, or because he’d made a deathbed promise.
But murder?
When she realized the teakettle had been whistling for some time, Hannah shook her head, hoping to dispel her dark thoughts. As she returned to the kitchen and began to fill her cup, she paused and was forced to set the kettle down with a clatter. Murder wasn’t something within the realm of her experience. It was simply beyond comprehension.
Ignoring the cup of tea, she began to pace. The authorities must have very compelling reasons for suspecting Ethan. Was it possible that this charming man, who painstakingly cared for his sons with no outside help, could have killed his wife?
As much as she wanted to deny such a thing, she had to admit that she had no idea what the face of a murderer looked like. Judging by what she’d seen in the media, seemingly ordinary men and women were capable of such horror.
But Ethan Harrison?
What did she really know about him, except that he was a stranger who had come to Devil’s Cove without knowing a single person in town. He’d even relied on her mother, his real estate agent, to provide him with the basic necessities until he’d settled in. The beds he and his sons slept in had been chosen by someone else. The food in their cupboards had been left to chance.
Her sisters, without even knowing about him, had referred to Ethan as a mysterious stranger. Was that some sort of omen?
Desperately confused, she stopped her pacing and reached for the phone.
Hearing the familiar deep voice on the other end she took a shallow breath. “Poppie? I know it’s late. Are you going to be up for a while?” She swallowed. “I really need to talk to you.” After a moment she added, “Thanks. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“And that’s all I know, Poppie.”
Frank Brennan sat quietly, watching as Hannah, too agitated to sit, paced the room.
“One minute we’re laughing over hot dogs and shakes. The next he’s warning me off by admitting that he is a suspect in his wife’s murder.”
“Off.” Her grandfather picked up on that single word.
Hannah stopped her pacing and turned to him. “What?”
“Off. You said he was warning you off. Off what?”
“Off…getting involved, I suppose.” Hannah knew her cheeks were burning
“Are you? Getting involved?”
She swallowed. “Yeah. I guess we are.” She hurried across the room and sat down beside her grandfather on the leather sofa in his old office. “At least I am, Poppie. And I think Ethan is, too. I’m pretty sure that’s why he decided to open up about something so painful and hideous. He wants me to know what I’m getting into.”
“I see.” The old man closed a gnarled hand over hers. “Then I guess we’d better find out all we can about the case.”
With a sigh he rose and walked to a wall of bookshelves, reading the labels until he removed a leather binder and carried it to his desk.
“Even though I’m retired, I still get the judicial journals. Let’s see if there’s anything about a Harrison murder in Maine.” He ran a finger down the index. “You say it was two years ago?”
She nodded.
Finding what he was looking for, he began leafing through the journals until he suddenly muttered approvingly. “Here we are.”
Hannah walked over to stand behind him as he read aloud from the article. “Elizabeth Harrison, wife of millionaire Ethan Harrison, creator of a line of custom software, was found dead of a single gunshot wound in the garage of their home in fashionable Fair Harbor, Maine. Because the weapon belonged to the victim, authorities at first believed the wound to have been self-inflicted. But upon further investigation, the coroner determined that the path of the bullet seemed inconsistent with that of a suicide, and though authorities are divided, some are calling it murder. The case remains under investigation.”
“Can you find out more, Poppie?”
He looked up. “I suppose I could make a few phone calls. And there’s always the newspaper accounts, though I don’t place much faith in speculation. I much prefer cold, hard facts to idle gossip and innuendo.”
“I don’t care about gossip, either.” Hannah gave a long, deep sigh. “But I care about those two little boys and their father.”
The old man pushed away from the desk and dropped an arm around his granddaughter’s shoulders. “And I’ve always cared about whatever mattered to you, Hannah. Tell you what. Why don’t you bring your young man and his sons to brunch tomorrow?”
Her look of surprise blossomed into a smile. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“I’d like it. And I’m sure your grandmother would, too.”
“Even though you may be entertaining a murderer?”
“Do you think he is?”
She shook her head solemnly.
“That’s that, then.” Frank cleared his throat. “Invite him.”
“You’ll remember to tell Trudy? I’d hate to catch her off guard.”
“I’ll tell her. Not that two small boys and one man should make a difference with the mountain of food she always prepares for our Sunday brunch.” He chuckled. “But I’m sure of one thing. Your brother-in-law and I will welcome the extra men, for a change of pace.”
Hannah wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Poppie. I’m feeling better already.”
“Good girl. Now see that you get some sleep. I’ll look for you tomorrow.”
He walked with Hannah to the front door, then stood waving as she drove away.
Instead of going upstairs to bed, Frank Brennan returned to his office, deep in thought. Finally he picked up the phone. What were old friends for, if they couldn’t be called upon for a favor now and then?
Ethan stepped from the shower to the sound of Hannah’s voice on his phone machine. Dripping water, he snatched it up. “Sorry. I had my head u
nder water. What were you saying?”
Hannah’s voice sounded breathy. “That’s a relief. I was afraid you’d seen my name on your caller ID and decided to ignore me.”
His tone deepened. “Don’t ever think that, Hannah. If anything, I’m the one who’s surprised. I didn’t expect to hear from you again.”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” She took a deep breath. “I’d like to take you and the boys to brunch at my grandparents’ home.”
“Why?”
“Because they invited you. Because I want them to meet you and your sons. And because I’d like you to know my family.”
He thought he detected a slight tremor in her voice. “You’re sure you want to do this?”
“I’m sure.”
“What time?”
“Eleven. Their Sunday brunches always begin at eleven.”
“We’ll be ready. Are you meeting us here?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Mind?” He couldn’t disguise his pleasure. “I’d like that. And I know the boys will be thrilled.”
Hannah set down her phone and p up the orange-and-white tabby, busy batting at the telephone cord with a paw.
As she carried the old cat across the room, she buried her face in its fur. “Oh, Marmalade. I wish I knew what I was doing.”
She stood a moment on the balcony, watching the flight of a hawk. She told herself that she wanted her family to meet Ethan so that they could learn to care for him and his sons the way she did. But that wasn’t entirely true. She was hoping, as well, that they would reinforce her belief that he was a good man who couldn’t possibly harm those he loved.
What if, instead, she ended up bringing danger to their doorstep?
She pushed aside the sobering thought and deposited the cat on a cushioned chair on the balcony before hurrying inside to dress.