All They Ever Wanted

by Tracy Solheim

“Just see that you don’t make any trouble,” he said before backing out of the room, leaving Lori to wonder if Miles had directed his warning at her or at himself.

  SIX

  “I’m so glad to finally be home.”

  Miles’ chest still constricted at the sight of the bruises dotting his mother’s cheek, most of them faded to a putrid yellow color. Her accident could have been so much worse. He wasn’t sure how he would have survived losing both his parents. Draping a cotton blanket over her feet, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “No happier than I am.”

  “Hmm.” His mother’s smile was dubious. “Does that mean you’ll stop harassing my staff?”

  Harassing didn’t come close to what he’d wanted to do to Lori in the inn’s laundry room earlier that day. His carefully maintained control continually slipped its leash every time he was in the woman’s presence. This morning, his only intention had been to put her on notice that no matter how much his mother protected her, he’d be protecting his mother, so Lori needed to tread carefully.

  But like the day before, when he got her alone, that X-rated video of her in the shower kept playing behind his eyes and all he could think about was touching her. His finger was involuntarily reaching for her face before his brain could catch up. When he made contact with her cheek, he was transfixed by the softness of her skin and the vanilla scent that seemed to envelop her.

  She’d asked him if he wanted her to leave, and it was all he could do not to pull her against him and show her exactly what he wanted. But kissing the woman silly wouldn’t solve either of their problems. As tempting as Lori was, she was also as dangerous as a pocket full of dynamite and he’d already had enough explosions these past few weeks to last a lifetime. He was damn lucky Cassidy had wandered back into the kitchen when she did.

  He sat down on the coffee table next to the recliner his sister had bought for his mother’s homecoming. Reaching for her hand, he tucked it between both of his.

  “You can harass your own employees from now on. I’ve got a full plate with the campaign. I’ve worked out the registration duties; Cassidy and I will handle them until you’re back on your feet, not to mention taking care of whatever else you need. All you have to do is ask. But don’t think I’m not going to come to the rescue if you need it.”

  With her free hand, his mother reached up to brush the hair back off Miles’ forehead. “Why is it that my boys all seem to think I constantly need rescuing?”

  “For the record, I’d like to point out that it was Ginger and Midas who rescued you after the accident, Mother,” his sister Kate barked as she waltzed into the living room of the carriage house carrying her black medical bag and a tray of iced drinks from the Java Jolt. “Your boys are likely feeling a little threatened by the superior sex, that’s all.”

  Miles stood and took the tray from his sister’s hands before she could dump the drinks all over their mother. “It never ceases to amaze me that you actually convinced a man to marry you.”

  Kate laughed. “Alden knows a good catch when he sees one.” She bussed her mother on the forehead. “How painful was the drive home, Mom? Do you need something stronger than iced coffee?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He studied his mother carefully while he handed her one of the drinks. Her face was paler than usual, but then she wasn’t used to being cooped up inside for days at a time. The lines around her mouth were a little more pronounced, but she’d never admit to being in pain. Truth be told, the McAlister kids got their stubbornness from their mother. Her hazel eyes lit up at the sound of her granddaughter’s voice.

  “Gigi!”

  Miles scooped the six-year-old up before she could launch herself on top of his mother. “Whoa there, Emily. Don’t I get a hug first?”

  Emily giggled as she wrapped herself around him like a little monkey. Dressed in a princess gown from one of the Disney characters, she nearly poked his eye out with the plastic tiara on her head. “I’m gonna paint Gigi’s nails.” She waved a pink bag in his face. “It’ll make her feel better.”

  Miles kissed his niece on the nose. “I think just having you around makes her feel better, Em.” The child giggled when Miles dangled her as though he might drop her, before gently letting his niece fall onto the sofa. Emily scampered over to the coffee table Miles had just vacated and began to neatly unpack her little bag.

  Kate scowled at him over her coffee. “I hope you didn’t manhandle anyone like that at the senior center.”

  Miles rolled his eyes at his sister. “I wasn’t dancing the Nae-Nae with the residents, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  “I like when you dance with me, Uncle Miles.” Emily handed him a bottle of nail polish to open. He mugged for his sister before sitting down next to his niece and holding the open bottle while she dipped the brush in.

  “Still, the word around town is that you were pretty ruthless in checkers today. I mean, you couldn’t have gone easy on Mr. Cohen? He’s ninety-four and a World War Two vet.”

  “All the more reason for me not to go easy on him. The man is still sharp as a tack. He wouldn’t have appreciated the gesture.”

  “Too bad the early voting hasn’t opened yet,” his sister teased. “You’d better hope they all don’t forget you by the time November rolls around.”

  “I doubt that,” his mother said as she smiled at Emily, who was meticulously painting powder blue nail polish on her thumb. “Miles has been a fixture at Sunset Dunes since he was a Cub Scout. They look forward to his visits.”

  “Wait, you go there even when you’re not trying to get them to vote?” His sister’s look said she might be digging in her black bag for a psychiatric tome.

  “Mr. Grimes, my fifth grade social studies teacher, lives there. He’s been a widower for eight years and his kids are scattered all over the world.” Miles shrugged. “Most of the residents just want someone to listen to them—to validate that they’re still worthy of existence. Instead they get con artists who want to take advantage of their naiveté and rip them off. It’s shameless.”

  “Miles, it’s not your job to fix what happened because of your brother’s investments,” his mother said.

  A heavy silence settled over the room as the three adults were no doubt thinking of the shame his younger brother, Ryan, felt at the unwilling part he played in a scam that ripped off many people in Chances Inlet. Ryan made millions as a professional baseball player. He gave a great deal to charity and invested the rest. Unfortunately, he’d been too trusting with his financial advisor, who not only ripped Ryan off in a Ponzi scheme, but managed to convince half the town—many of them living on fixed retirement incomes—that “what was good enough for Ryan was good enough for them.” His brother had been dumbfounded and mortified when the truth came out. It was just another blemish on the McAlisters’ sterling reputation in Chances Inlet.

  “Actually it is my job to protect them, and when I get elected, I plan to make it one of my primary goals to make sure seniors won’t lose their pensions because of some criminal Ponzi schemer.”

  His mother gave him a cavalier smile as if to say “good luck with that.” But Miles was determined to make this right.

  “A good leader can still learn a lot from the folks at Sunset Dunes,” he continued. “Their generation represents all that is good about this country. If something needed to be done, they didn’t ask, ‘What’s in it for me?’ They just did it. This country can be that way again. I know it.”

  Miles looked up to see his mother and sister staring at him. His mom wore a soft smile while his sister’s expression was more amused.

  “Wow, that would have made a beautiful campaign spot.” Kate grinned. “I think you should let me hold the Bible when they swear you in. It’s only fair since you usurped my status as the only child all those years ago.”

  His mother laughed. “The only one holding the Bible
will be me.”

  Kate sighed. “Always the bridesmaid.”

  Emily looked up from her task and beamed at Miles. “Ginger said I can be the flower girl in her wedding to Uncle Gavin. Then I’m gonna be in Gigi and Sheriff Lamar’s wedding. Can I be in yours, too, Uncle Miles?”

  Both women were staring at him again. Miles carefully set the nail polish down on the table. No way was he discussing his philosophy on marriage with these two. A decade ago, marriage had been all he could think about. He’d found his soul mate in Justine, his girlfriend throughout college, and he couldn’t wait to live out his life-plan with her by his side. But when she’d suddenly died, it was as if she’d taken with her that part of his soul that made him want to love. He couldn’t imagine himself committing his heart to anyone else. Instead he’d rededicated himself to the goals he’d set all those years ago. Falling in love had never been on that list in the first place. Miles was better off navigating the course of his life alone.

  He kissed the top of Emily’s head. “If I ever decide to tie the knot, the job is yours, Em.” Miles didn’t bother pointing out to her that she’d likely marry before he ever would. Neither his niece nor the two hopeless romantics in the room would understand.

  As he stood to make his escape, Emily grabbed his wrist. “I can give you a manicure, too, Uncle Miles. Daddy lets me paint his nails.”

  “Does he now?” Miles gave his sister a look clearly conveying that he needed backup.

  Kate grinned mischievously. “You can’t paint Uncle Miles’ nails today, honey. You need to check with Bernice first to see what color she wants him to wear.”

  Both women broke out into giggles.

  “And with that, I’m out.” Miles kissed his mother’s cheek.

  “Come back for dinner?”

  “Sorry, I get to eat rubber chicken with the Kiwanis tonight. But I know a good place where we can get some breakfast. Can I bring you some tomorrow?”

  His mother cupped his cheek and nodded. “I’d like that. And, Miles, whether I believe I need your protection or not, I am glad you’re here.”

  * * *

  Patricia blew on her tea.

  “How is it?” Lamar gently sat down on the bed beside her, as always, careful not to jar her hip.

  “It’s perfect.” And it was. He’d prepared her a cup of Sleepy Time tea with just the right amount of lemon and honey. Everything Lamar did for her was thoughtful and deliberate. And perfect.

  She leaned into his warm body and breathed in his familiar musky scent. He tentatively wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders, and she brushed her lips along his jaw, glad that he was finally holding her again. For the past several days, he’d been treating her as if she’d shatter at the slightest touch. Things would get back to normal now that she’d returned home. The distance she’d perceived in him would dissipate and they could go back to planning the rest of their lives together. Patricia let out a contented sigh.

  A sigh that Lamar clearly mistook for something else.

  He carefully untangled himself from her and stood up beside the bed. “Are you okay? Is the pain very bad?”

  The pain was a dull ache, but nothing she couldn’t handle. She gave him a bright smile that she hoped was reassuring as she patted the bed beside her. “I’m fine. Really.”

  He didn’t budge an inch and Patricia’s contentment faded. “You know what would make me feel better? A kiss from my handsome fiancé.”

  Lamar’s face softened and hope flared in Patricia’s belly. He leaned down, gently caressing that sensitive area where her jaw met her neck—the spot that made her body turn to putty—before kissing her soundly. She hadn’t lied. His kiss did make her feel better. Everything else faded away except for him and her.

  When his lips left hers, she locked her arms around his neck, not allowing him to pull away. Instead, she feathered kisses along his cheek. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay tonight?”

  He unhooked her hands from his body and cast a glance at the pillows and ice packs he’d placed in the bed around her. “No, you’ll sleep better by yourself,” he said.

  Despite the sting of his refusal, she would never beg Lamar to stay the night with her. If there was one thing Patricia prided herself on, it was being an independent woman. “You’re right. I’ll probably toss and turn all night.” She leaned back against the pillows. “Cassidy volunteered to sleep on the futon in the office tonight anyway. Go to Pier Pressure and get some dinner. Make sure everyone in town is behaving. I’ll be boring company anyway.”

  He did that little growling thing that always made her insides twist up in arousal as he sat back down on the bed. Lamar lifted her chin with a finger and studied her face with his solemn stare. “Tricia, you’re always good company. And you always will be.” He kissed her gently until her mouth opened beneath his. The familiar passion Patricia felt for him simmered and she thought for a moment that she’d won whatever battle they were silently fighting.

  Until he broke off the kiss with a mumbled curse. “I’ve got a few more leads on a case I’m working that I need to chase down tonight. Promise me you’ll get some rest?”

  Confused, she studied his stoic face for clues, but none were forthcoming. She hid her frustration behind a sunny smile. “Come by before your shift tomorrow?”

  He gave her a look that implied he might say more, but instead he nodded silently. When she heard the sound of the door closing, she counted to ten before hurling a pillow at the wall.

  SEVEN

  Lori tried to crank the motor by hand, but it was no use. The garbage disposal was well and truly stuck. With a resigned sigh, she looked at the clock on the microwave: ten fifty. Too late to call Gavin to come fix it. Luckily the casseroles were already made and she’d rinsed the fruit earlier. She’d just have to manage without a sink during tomorrow’s breakfast.

  “It’s not the first time I’ve had a kitchen appliance go on strike during my illustrious career,” she muttered as she wiped down the countertops surrounding the deep farm sink in the B and B’s kitchen.

  She tossed the towel into the washer then nearly leaped out of her skin when she collided with a hard body on her way out of the laundry room. A hard body that smelled like Aramis and the ocean. Her mind drifted back to that moment earlier in the day when she’d almost done the unthinkable and kissed Miles McAlister right here in this very spot. This time, her palms were flat against his chest and she could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her hand—the sound of which seemed to be echoing throughout the small room. Or perhaps that was her own wild heartbeat she heard.

  He’d changed out of his casual clothes and was now wearing his buttoned-up politician’s uniform consisting of a tailored shirt—soft beneath her fingertips—and gabardine slacks, both of which were doing very little to conceal the finely hewed muscle beneath. Unlike the men Lori had been associated with the past several years, Miles didn’t need to cloak himself in designer suits to exude a sense of confidence. His swagger was one hundred percent real and his clothing neither enhanced nor detracted from it.

  The dim lighting behind him cast his face in shadows, making it difficult for her to decipher his expression. His hands hovered near her waist, seemingly unsure of where they should be. Parts of her were doing a happy dance at the unexpected opportunity for a second chance, before logic won out and she took a huge step back in order to prevent the idiot portion of her brain from running amok.

  They stood in the charged silence a moment before Miles blew out a harsh breath.

  “Do you always skulk around the inn talking to yourself late at night?”

  “Do you always accost women in the laundry?”

  He lowered his chin to his chest, muttering something to himself. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he propped a shoulder against the doorframe.

  “Touché.” He wore a chagrined expression when he
finally looked up at her. “I apologize for earlier. It was never my intention to manhandle you. I wasn’t . . . thinking.”

  His apology pretty much killed whatever happy dancing was still going on inside her. Of course, he would only admit to touching her when he wasn’t in his right mind. The connection between them was undeniably hot and she knew he felt its potency as much as she did. But Miles would never act on it. She doubted that Dudley Do-Right ever let himself do anything that wasn’t carefully planned out in advance. Especially with a woman like her—a woman he suspected the worst of.

  Lori crossed her arms over her midsection. “Exactly what was your intention?”

  He shook his head slightly. “Apparently, to be an ass.”

  “Well, you succeeded.”

  One corner of his mouth twitched. “Are you going to rat me out to my mom again?”

  She felt her own smile coming on. “No. I’m pretty sure she already knows you’re an ass. Luckily for you, she loves you anyway.”

  “And I love her. Which means the two of us need to work this out.”

  Heat surged to her belly just thinking about how she’d like to work it out. But that could never happen. Not while they both were who they were. “I already told you, I’m not filling out any forms.”

  Miles held a hand up. “That’s between you and my mom. As far as I’m concerned, she can handle any legal fallout that might come from that.”

  “Just as long as it doesn’t impact your political career, right?”

  He jerked away from the doorframe and Lori instantly regretted baiting him. Miles made no secret of who he was. The fact that he was principled and honest was like a breath of fresh air after the people Lori had known. His integrity was as much of a turn-on to her as was the rest of him.

  Lori sensed that perfection wasn’t easy for Miles, though. Although she didn’t think others noticed—not even his family. Deep down, Miles wanted to stray from his path; he just didn’t know how. And as much as Lori would like to be the one to lead him astray, too much danger lay down that road. For both of them.