by Peggy Jaeger
“What are you working on?” she asked, trying to peek over his shoulder at the screen.
“You always were nosy,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m transcribing some notes I made when I was away.”
“What kind of notes?”
“Oh, Lord, Tiff, that’s amazing. Don’t stop. Just some stuff about the people I met and interviewed, impressions about all the destruction and waste of the war.”
“Can I read it?”
“Maybe. When I’m done. I was thinking of calling an agent I know, maybe see if she could put out some feelers for it, see if there’s any interest in publishing it. You know, a firsthand account of the war.”
Tiffany’s hands gripped the skin at his neck and rolled it between her fingers. “Sounds like a good idea. There. Better?”
“Much.” He turned the chair around to face her. “You look better too. Less tired.”
“I don’t know why I got so sleepy, but I felt like I couldn’t keep my eyes open another minute. Just like in the car yesterday. One sec I’m wide awake, the next, coma-city.”
“Easy to see why. You’ve been training for the show, rehearsing like a maniac. Sean told me you’ve been at it for almost three months without a break. It’s a long time.”
Tiffany sighed and crossed her arms. “I’ve trained harder and longer for competitions. This isn’t nearly as stressful.”
“Either way, you obviously needed a break from it. It’s almost providential you got hurt.”
“How so?”
“Made you relax for a few days and stay away from the ice.”
“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “That kind of relaxation I don’t need. I don’t want to see the inside of a hospital again in this lifetime.”
Cole laughed and reached for her hand. “Let’s hope it doesn’t happen. I called Sean, by the way, just to give him an update. He asked me to make you promise to stay away from the ice house.”
“He’s such a tyrant.” She jerked her hand away. “He thinks I don’t know my own body well enough to be trusted not to hurt it.”
“Tiff, you’ve already had one bad fall.”
“I’ve had them before,” she said with an impatient slice of her hand. “And I’ve always been fine. If anyone knows my body and what it can take, it’s me, not my despot of a coach.”
“He’s just looking out for you, you know. He loves you.” He grabbed her hand back and squeezed it, forcing her to look at him again. “You know that.”
She pouted, then sighed. “I hate being told what to do.”
“Oh, there’s breaking news.”
Holding her head high, she arched an eyebrow at him. “Remember the scolding you gave me about snideness?”
When his lips twitched, she added, “Well, back at ya.”
His grin turned into a full smile, warmth filling his eyes. In the next instant it froze over.
He turned back to the laptop, a scowl lining his face. “I want to do a little more before we leave.”
Tiffany felt the sudden change in him, saw the coldness wash into his face, and wondered at the cause. “Okay. I’m going to take a quick shower.”
Never turning from the keyboard, he murmured, “’Kay.”
While she readied herself for the evening, Tiffany wondered at Cole’s recent moodiness and how it related to her. She was sure he was beginning to see her as a woman and not a child. No man could kiss her like he had and not. But he pulled back constantly and denied the feelings she knew must be swimming around inside him.
Why?
He’d said he loved her like a sister.
But his kisses had not been those of a sibling. No, they were more the kind a man would give his lover. And she so heartily wanted to be Cole’s lover.
It had to be more, and she was determined to find out what caused him to break away whenever they were faced with even the hint of a romantic encounter.
He’d almost kissed her that morning by the graveside. He would have if she hadn’t pulled back. Whenever he looked at her, heat poured from his eyes.
He felt something for her, all right.
But how could she make him see it? How could she make him acknowledge what he was feeling and act on it?
While she brushed her hair, Tiffany let a simple plan work its way through her head.
****
“Aunt Rene, I can’t move.” Tiffany pushed back her chair from the table and laid her hands across her stomach. “I haven’t eaten so much in a long time. Everything was delicious.”
Serena smiled at her niece.
“Addie would be so proud.” Alaina toasted her daughter with a glass of white wine.
“And so full,” Seamus added. He reached across the table, took his wife’s hand in his own, and kissed it.
Cole was charmed when Serena’s eyes grew moist at her husband’s loving gesture. His gaze traveled to Tiffany. A small smile graced her face as she watched her aunt and uncle.
He couldn’t forget the way her agile hands had massaged his shoulders and neck, smoothed out the kinks and worries with their strength and matching tenderness. His skin felt scorched by her touch, seared with her own gentle caresses.
Tiffany turned toward him, caught his eye, and her smile changed. It grew impish, curving at the corners, her eyes slitting.
What mischief hid behind that look?
She held his stare until Jonathan King leaned in and said something close to her ear.
A knot of annoyance tightened in Cole’s stomach. King had monopolized Tiffany all evening. The intern was already there when they’d arrived, and pounced on Tiffany the moment she walked through the door. He’d huddled her into a private corner of the living room, brought her a drink, and hadn’t left her side for a minute.
When Serena had announced dinner was ready, King had taken Tiffany’s arm and led her into the dining room, pulled out her chair and placed himself next to her. All through the delicious dinner of roasted lamb and asparagus, Tiffany had been continually forced to turn to something he’d said or some comment he’d made.
Cole was more than just annoyed. He was suspicious of the man and his intense, all-consuming attentiveness toward Tiffany.
“Dessert in the music room,” Serena announced. “Moira has graciously consented to play for us.”
“Quentin and me are gonna skip dessert,” Padric told his mother. He rose from his chair and his thirteen-year-old friend mimicked the movement.
One delicately carved black eyebrow rose to a dangerous level as Serena asked her oldest son, “And where do you think you’re going?”
“I don’t wanna hear Moira play that classical junk, Mom. I have to listen to it every day. Can’t I get a break?”
“Is that any way to talk about your sister, young man?” Seamus’s voice was stern, but his lips twitched at the corners.
“It’s not about her, Dad. It’s the music. It makes me wanna hurl.”
“Yeah,” Quentin put in.
“Quentin Stapleton.” His mother Delilah’s voice was perilously calm and slicing, forcing the young man to sheepishly look over at her. “I think your father and I better have a serious talk with you about your manners when we get home, but for now, march your skinny butt into the music room.”
“You too,” Serena told Padric.
As Moira sat down to play, Cole scoped out a seat next to Tiffany, but before he could take it, Jonathan King usurped him.
Cole stood behind the couch, irritation pulsating through him. He tasted bile swell up in his throat when King bent down to whisper something funny into Tiffany’s ear. At least Cole assumed it was amusing from the way Tiffany giggled and chortled like an adolescent schoolgirl.
“Cole, come sit next to me,” Alaina said. She patted the love seat by the bay window overlooking the Cleary’s spacious farm property.
Moira started to play, and the room hushed. It was a long, difficult piece, but the girl’s playing was extremely accomplished. She made the music come alive in the room.
Not once did she falter or need to look at the music.
When she finished a particularly vigorous movement, the sound of the piano booming within the room, all those present broke out into applause.
“Nicely done, dear,” Alaina said, beaming.
Serena began serving cake while her husband did the honors with coffee.
“Seamus’s young intern seems taken with our Tiffany,” Alaina said to Cole, as she took a cup from her son-in-law.
Cole frowned. “Taken doesn’t describe it adequately.” King was once again monopolizing the conversation, with Tiffany merely nodding and smiling every so often. “The guy’s a gasbag. He hasn’t shut up all evening. The Brat’s probably got a headache by now.”
“She doesn’t appear to be suffering.”
While he registered the humor in her voice, Cole spotted laughter in her eyes. “What’s going on inside your devious brain?”
“It occurred to me you sounded like a wary father there for a moment. Or maybe a jealous boyfriend.”
Cole coughed and sputtered his coffee. While he wiped his chin with a napkin, he said, “Alaina, the things you imagine.”
“Tiffany has grown up a lot since you’ve been gone, dear. She’s much more worldly than I ever was at her age. More determined, more goal oriented, and educated about life. She’s grown into her beauty too.”
“And her temper.”
“Yes. But her temper’s always been a good thing, I think, because it’s kept her focused on what she’s always wanted.”
For a second, Cole was puzzled. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not talking about skating?”
“Because I’m not.” She smiled directly into his eyes. “Oh, I love it when a handsome man blushes,” she said, with an affectionate pat to his knee. “It always means I’ve struck the right chord.”
“Alaina, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do, so don’t deny it. The two of you have been here barely twenty-four hours, and the air in my house is riddled with sparks every time you’re in the same room. I think”—she patted his knee again—“you’ve come to realize our girl is no longer a child and you’re having some difficulty dealing with it.”
“Some difficulty puts it mildly.” He stared down into his cup. “I’ve always had a special place in my heart for her. But I haven’t been thinking with my heart too much lately. Or my head.”
“I’m wondering what’s keeping you from acting on it. Surely, you know Tiffany wouldn’t object in the least.”
“Alaina, you’re going to embarrass me again,” he said. “Can you imagine what her mother would do to me if I made a play for her daughter? I’d rather go back to Sudan and dodge insurgent bullets than suffer her wrath.”
Alaina shook her head. “You underestimate Carly. The only thing she’s ever wanted for Tiffany is for her to be happy. It’s no secret Tiffany has always adored you. Carly knows that.”
Cole blew out a breath and then took a sip of his coffee. “I just don’t know anymore. Maybe I’ve been away too long and can’t think straight. Maybe I just can’t accept she’s grown into such an unbelievable woman.” Even as he said it, his gaze traveled across the room to Tiffany, saw the way her mouth twisted with laughter at something King said. A spark of jealousy shot through him so strong and vital, his hands throbbed to pummel the intern’s face.
“Whatever happens between the two of you, remember one thing,” Alaina said. “Events happen in our lives for a reason, and sometimes there’s nothing we can do to stop them.”
“Destiny.” Tiffany’s words echoed back to him.
Alaina smiled. “Exactly. Or fate, if you want. But whatever happens, the two of you will always share a bond that’s stronger than anything else on earth. The bond of a loving family.”
Cole reached out and took her hand in his. “You’re an amazing woman, Alaina.”
“Of course I am. I’m a MacQuire.”
She left him to help her daughter clear up the scattered cake plates and coffee cups.
When it was time to go, Cole searched for Tiffany. Unfortunately, he found her walking around outside the property with King. They were so close together Cole couldn’t see an iota of space between them.
“Alaina’s just about ready to go,” Cole told Tiffany, ignoring her companion. “She’s inside saying goodbye to the kids. We’ll leave in about five minutes.”
“Oh, I don’t need a ride home. Jon and I are going to a movie in town. He’ll bring me back later.”
A muscle tightened in Cole’s cheek. “It’s a little late for a movie, isn’t it?”
“Last show starts at nine,” King told him. He looked down at Tiffany, a smile on his face. “We’ve got plenty of time.”
Cole’s jaw tightened. He exhaled deeply and fisted his hands into his pants pockets. “Aren’t you tired?”
She shook her head. “The nap I took gave me a good second wind. I feel much better than I did after we went riding.”
When he didn’t reply, she asked, “Is something wrong?”
“No.” He gave her a curt nod, never once looking at King. “Have a good time.” He walked away from them, headed back toward the house.
“Leave the outside porch light on, okay?” she called out.
Without turning back he waved a hand. “Sure.”
Chapter Eleven
Tiffany closed the front door quietly behind her, leaned back against it and let out the sigh she’d been dying to expel for over an hour.
Tonight would surely go down in the annals of her life as the most tedious and boring evening ever.
From the moment they’d arrived at the Cleary’s, Jonathan King had attached himself to her like a leech. His nonstop monologue about his high school and college athletic awards and his boring diatribe about the prestigious clinic that so desperately wanted him the moment he graduated was almost too much for Tiffany. She’d lost count of the number of times during dinner and then afterward at the movie theater where she’d wanted to reach across, physically shut his mouth, and hold it closed so he couldn’t utter another word. Just when she couldn’t stand it a moment longer she’d caught Cole glaring at them and grew encouraged to continue with her charade. It came to her when she was dressing maybe the only way to make Cole accept his feelings, was for her to make him jealous. Have him see other men were attracted to her. Cole told her he wanted her to date, to get a boyfriend, to experience all the things he’d thought she’d missed growing up. Well, Jonathan King, even though he was an absolute boor, was the perfect tool for her to show Cole how wrong he was. She didn’t need or want a boyfriend. She needed and wanted him.
The only touchy moment in her entire plan had been at the end of the evening when, after suffering through an hour of his arrogant criticisms of the movie they’d seen, Jonathan had tried to press his advantage at the door. He’d grabbed her arm and all but shoved her against the clapboard siding. The oily smile crossing his face repulsed her, as his mouth came dangerously close to hers. Thankfully, Tiffany had seen the move and swiftly put her hand up, barring him.
“I’ve been fighting a cold all week. Wouldn’t want to infect you.”
Before he could utter a reply, she turned the handle on the door and sought refuge in the house.
Thank God that was over.
“Pretty late evening,” Cole said.
To her credit, Tiffany didn’t let out the screech that swelled in her throat.
“Must have been a long movie.”
He leaned against the den doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest. His hair was ruffled as if he’d been sleeping on it, and his shirt was untucked.
“It wasn’t. We went out for coffee afterward.”
“You don’t drink coffee.”
“I had tea. What are you doing up so late? Keeping an eye out for me?”
“No. I was working.”
“Oh,” she said. “Well, sorry I disturbed you. I’m going up to bed. Good night.”
“W
ait a minute.” He reached out and grabbed her arm. “I want to know exactly what happened with the two of you tonight.”
“What?”
“Lower your voice, Alaina’s asleep.”
“What do you mean,” she said, hushing, “you want to know what happened tonight? Who do you think you are?”
“You barely know this guy, Tiff, and you’re going out to a movie, and then carousing until all hours with him.”
“I was not carousing,” she said, loosing the grip on her voice again. “It’s barely midnight.”
“The movie ended at ten-thirty. I checked.”
“We went for a simple cup of coffee afterwards. And what business is it of yours anyway, what I do, with whom, and how late I stay out? I’m an adult, and you’re not my father or my keeper.”
“Lower your voice,” he repeated. “No, I’m not, but somebody’s got to look out for you. Someone’s got to show some common sense and intelligence.”
“What are you talking about now?”
“Since when have you ever gone out with someone you don’t even know? You met this guy this afternoon, and tonight you go out on a date with him. He monopolizes all of your time at Serena’s, his hands are all over you like he owns you, and you don’t know squat about him. He could be a maniac for all you know.”
“Oh, please. What’s gotten into you? Jon is a sweet, courteous, intelligent guy,” she said, mentally gagging on each word. “I had a nice, relaxing time with him. He didn’t attack me or mutilate me or anything else your ridiculous imagination can drum up. Don’t use your own frustrated and morbid mind thinking up ulterior motives for people, Cole. Plus, Jon’s hands were not all over me. He was merely being a gentleman. He held my chair out for me, he refilled my glass—”
“He draped his arm across the back of your chair so he could grab a feel, lowered his voice to your ear so he could get a sniff of your perfume and look down your shirt. Don’t tell me, Tiff. I saw him putting the moves on you from the moment we got there.”
“You’re insane,” she said calmly after a few seconds. “Completely insane. First, I don’t wear perfume, so he wasn’t sniffing at me like a dog. Second, he never touched me once all evening in anything other than a solicitous manner.” She mentally crossed her fingers against the fib, putting the scene at the door out of her mind. “And third, he was not and could not look down my blouse. Which is a disgusting thing to say, by the way. Now move. I want to go to bed.”