by Marie Force
“Jesus Christ,” Owen said, his face flushed from running after her. “What the hell did he say?”
Laura reached for the door handle, fumbling with it, frustrated when it refused to open.
“Wait, honey. Let me unlock it.” He held the door for her until she was inside before closing it and going around to the driver’s side. “Are you going to talk to me?”
“Later. Please. Let’s go.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere but here.” She caught a glimpse of Justin emerging from the restaurant in time to watch them drive away. His expression was impassive, but his eyes were sharp as always.
“I want to know what he said to you.”
“It doesn’t matter. He’ll sign the papers.”
“Laura, honey—”
“I can’t talk about it. I just can’t.” Her mind raced. In addition to having her followed, he’d implied the baby wasn’t his. If it hadn’t been so insulting she might’ve laughed. Except nothing about this was funny. She’d married an egotistical, sadistic asshole. How had she not seen that? Had she been so desperate to be married that she’d failed to notice he was a heartless bastard? The wedding had been only six months ago, but it may as well have been years for she simply couldn’t remember for the life of her why she’d ever thought she loved him.
The queasiness returned with a sudden fury. She rolled down the window to let in the cool air, which helped to combat the nausea.
To his credit, Owen didn’t say a word as he drove them to the Weston. Because it was one of the taller buildings in the city, she didn’t have to tell him how to get there. As he grabbed their overnight bags from the trunk and checked them into the hotel, Laura tagged along like a docile child. Justin’s ugly words about how she couldn’t get by without a man in her life rang through her mind like a refrain from a song that got stuck on replay. Over and over and over again.
They rode the elevator to the sixth floor in silence that followed them into the room. When she thought about the plans they’d made for this night, she again felt sick. She went over to the window and stared out at the city she’d called home for most of her life, seeing nothing but the look on his face when he’d implied that the baby wasn’t his.
If she were being honest with herself, she’d known about Justin’s mean streak before she married him. She’d known he was capable of doing whatever it took to win on behalf of his clients and had cringed on more than one occasion when he’d laid out his trial strategy to her. You can’t argue with results, he’d said proudly when she questioned his tactics. But until he’d aimed it at her, she’d truly had no idea how deep the mean ran or how low he would stoop to advance his agenda.
Owen came up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “What can I do?”
“I. . . I need some time to myself.” Her voice wavered, betraying the emotion she was trying so hard to contain. The last thing she wanted was to suck him into the vicious storm of her divorce.
His hands fell away from her shoulders, his disappointment palpable. “Sure. Whatever you need.”
As she heard him moving around the room, she hated herself for dragging him on the emotional rollercoaster ride with her. He deserved so much better.
“I’ll be back in a while,” he said. The hotel door clicked shut behind him as he left the room.
Laura’s legs gave out under her, and she slid down to the floor, still leaning against the big window with the panoramic view of the city. The baby chose that moment to deliver a resounding kick that broke open the floodgates. Tears spilled down her cheeks and sobs shook her body.
Rattled by Laura’s withdrawal, Owen took the elevator to the lobby. He wanted to go find Justin Newsome and beat the shit out of him. But because that wasn’t an option, he withdrew the business card Frank McCarthy had slipped him before they left his house earlier and called the cell number Frank had scrawled on the back.
“What happened?” Frank asked when he answered.
“I have no idea. All I know is he said something that made her slap his face.”
“Is that right? Well, good for her. She should’ve done that a long time ago, if you ask me. So what did he say?”
“That’s the thing. She won’t tell me. It’s like she’s folded into herself and shut me out. She’s right there, but she’s a million miles away. It’s kind of scary, actually.”
“Oh, no. Damn it. That’s what I was afraid of. She did the same thing when her mother died. Scared the hell out of me. She’d look at me and answer me when I asked her a direct question, but it was almost as if no one was home.”
“Yes, that’s it. Exactly. When I put my hands on her shoulders, I could tell she was trying not to recoil away from me.”
“That, too,” Frank said with a sigh. “Same thing. She couldn’t bear to be touched for weeks after Jo died.”
“What do we do?” Owen asked with growing desperation.
“For one thing, it’s time I had a talk with her husband. I’d promised her I’d stay out of it unless she asked me to get involved, but enough is enough.”
“I agree. If you can get him to sign the divorce papers, I think that would help.”
“I’ll do what I can. In the meantime, you’ll be with her?”
“Every minute that I can. She wanted some time to herself, so I came down to the lobby.”
“Don’t leave her alone too long.”
“I won’t.”
“You love her, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Owen said, his voice gruff with emotion and fear and confusion. There was also relief to admit to someone—even her father—that he was in love with Laura. Sometime soon he hoped he could tell her, too.
“Good.” Frank sounded relieved. “Don’t give up on her. She’s going through a rough time right now, but we’ll get her through this, and then you two can make some plans.”
“I hope you’re right.” Based on what Owen had seen since they left the restaurant, he had good reason to fear that nothing was going to work out the way they’d planned.
“I’ll do everything I can to make sure she gets what she wants,” Frank said. “Will you head back to the island tomorrow?”
“Yes, we’re on the ten thirty boat. We’re supposed to go to a party at our friends Luke and Sydney’s tomorrow night. But after this. . . I don’t know if she’ll be up for it.”
“The island is good for her. It always has been. After my wife died, I was so out of my element with two grief-stricken kids on summer vacation. I had to get back to work, but I was torn, needing to be in two places at once, you know?”
“I can only imagine.”
“When my brother and Linda offered to take them for the summer, I jumped at the chance to give them some stability and the distraction of five cousins who were about their same age. But I was frightened by Laura’s withdrawal and reluctant to leave her, even for a little while.”
“What happened?”
“With Mac and Linda’s support, I gave it two weeks and went out to the island to see them for the weekend. She wasn’t quite back to her old self by any means, but she was better than she’d been. By the end of the summer, she’d come back to us almost all the way. Neither of my kids were ever quite the same after we lost their mom, but I never again saw the scary withdrawal that happened right after.”
“Until now.”
“When it happened the first time, the psychologist I consulted with told me it was her coping mechanism. By withdrawing into herself she could keep the bad stuff out and postpone the emotional firestorm for that much longer.” Frank paused for a moment and cleared his voice. “Linda told me they all went out for ice cream one night toward the end of the summer. God bless Mac and Linda. They had seven kids underfoot, but they made that summer so fun for my kids. Anyway, apparently Laura dropped her cone on the ground outside the ice cream shop and broke down. Linda realized she was finally allowing the grief to come out and sent Mac home with the other kids. She a
nd Laura sat on the seawall for two hours while my poor baby cried her heart out.”
Owen ached as he pictured nine-year-old Laura coming to terms with her mother’s death.
“It was a tough time for all of us, but she was a little better after the summer on the island.”
“I’m glad you told me this. It makes me feel a lot better to know that she’s doing what she needs to do to get through this. I wish she wasn’t shutting me out, though.”
“Be patient. When she’s ready, she’ll let you back in.”
“I can do that.”
“Will you call me if you need me? If she needs me?”
“Of course.”
“In the meantime, I’ll do what I can to dispose of him.”
Owen released an unsteady chuckle. “Legally, I presume.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“It was really great to meet you, sir. Laura talks about you so fondly.”
“That’s nice to hear, but please call me Frank. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
“I sure hope so.”
Owen ended the call and forced himself to give her another half hour before he couldn’t stay away any longer. He let himself into the room, which was dark and quiet. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he saw her curled up on the bed.
“Laura?” he said in a whisper.
When she didn’t reply, he hoped it was because she was asleep. He pulled the throw blanket from the foot of the bed and spread it over her. Feeling weary but wired at the same time, he took a shower and shaved. Then he stretched out on the bed next to her, wanting to be nearby if she needed him during the night.
It took him a long time to fall asleep.
Chapter 14
Carolina knew it was wrong to be so fascinated by a much younger man. But listening to Seamus tell her about his childhood in Ireland, his parents, the brothers he’d caused such mischief with and the grandmother who’d done her best to set him straight, she was utterly captivated.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m going on and on, and you’re probably bored stiff.”
“To the contrary. I love to listen to your stories. And that brogue. . .” She fanned herself. “Lovely.”
His entire face flushed with heat, and he became very interested in watching the flames dance in the fireplace.
“What’re you thinking about?”
He shook his head, letting her know he didn’t want to say.
“Now, you’re going to hold out on me? After I heard about the frog you put in the nun’s habit? What could be worse than that?”
He let out an inarticulate grunt, got up, gathered their dishes and headed for the kitchen.
Perplexed, Carolina went to help with the dishes.
“That’s okay,” he said when she headed for the sink. “I’ve got it.”
“Let me help.”
“I said I’ve got it.”
Surprised by his sharp tone, she took a step back and put up her hands to surrender. “Sorry.”
“No, Jesus, I’m sorry. I, uh. . .” He looked positively dumbfounded.
Confused, Carolina moved toward him, drawn by an attraction stronger than she’d experienced in a very long time.
“Please, don’t,” he said, stopping her progression with a pleading look.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“God, no,” he said with an ironic laugh. “It’s not you. It’s me.”
Her brows knitted with consternation. She’d never seen him so undone. He was usually all cool confidence and cocky charm. “What is?”
“You. . .” He swallowed hard. “You’re beautiful.”
Of all the things she’d expected him to say, that hadn’t been one of them. Her entire body heated as the realization registered. He was interested in her. As a woman. Oh my. . .“Thank you,” she was finally able to say. “That’s very sweet of you to say.”
“Tis the truth,” he said, pulling up the sleeves of his shirt to do the dishes. He seemed almost angry as he washed and rinsed the bowls and silverware, banging around the kitchen with barely contained energy vibrating off his muscular frame.
“Seamus.”
He spun around, seeming almost surprised to see her still standing there. “Yes?”
“Come here.”
“No, thank you. I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
She held out a hand to him. “Please?”
He eyed her hand as if it was a stick of dynamite before he reluctantly reached out to fold his hand around hers.
Carolina had no idea what she was doing when she led him into the living room and urged him to join her on the love seat in front of the fire. Without releasing his hand, she compelled him to meet her gaze. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”
He released a sound that fell somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “You’re the last person I can talk to about this. No, wait, that’s not true. Joe would be the last person I could talk to about this. In fact, if he knew the thoughts I’d been having about his dear, sweet mama, he’d cut me up and feed me to the sharks.”
Carolina’s mouth fell open. She quickly closed it and tried to process what he’d said. “You’ve been having. . . thoughts. . . About me?”
Looking sheepish and maybe ashamed, he gave a brief nod.
“For how long?”
“How long ago did we first meet?”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’d never joke about something like this,” he said, clearly offended by the insinuation.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you were joking. I’m just surprised. That’s all.”
He tried to tug his hand free, but she wouldn’t let go. “Let’s forget about it,” he said. “I never planned to say anything about it.”
“Why not?”
Staring at her as if she were crazy, he said, “Because! For one thing, your son would kill me. I like my life—and my job. He trusted me to run his company, and I take that very seriously. He shouldn’t have to be worried about his employee having impure thoughts about his mother.”
The more agitated he got the thicker his brogue became. He was sexy as hell, and she wanted him more than she’d wanted any man since she lost her husband. Right in that moment, it didn’t matter that he was sixteen years younger than her or that he worked for her son. For once, she wasn’t thinking of Joe or anyone other than the sweet, sexy man sitting beside her.
“Well, say something already,” he said with a huff that nearly made her laugh.
Rather than speak, she caressed his face.
He sucked in a sharp deep breath and tried to turn his face away. “Miz Cantrell. . .”
“I think,” she said as she dragged her fingers lightly along his whisker-roughened jaw, “that you should probably call me Carolina, or I’ll feel like a dirty old woman.”
“No. I couldn’t.” He took hold of her wandering hand. “This can’t happen.”
“Why?”
“Joe would—”
“Joe is my son, and I love him dearly, but I don’t need his approval.”
“I do. He’s given me a wonderful opportunity, and I wouldn’t do anything to disappoint him.”
It was a matter of honor to him, she realized, and how could she not respect that? “Of course,” she said, withdrawing her hand. “I apologize.”
“That’s it?” he asked with a glint of devil in his eye and a healthy dose of disappointment. “You’re giving up, just like that?”
Carolina stared at him, uncertain of what he meant. “But you said—”
“Don’t listen to me. I’m full of blarney. Everyone knows it.”
“You’re confusing me.”
“Am I? Let me be clear then: You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met, and I’ve wanted you fiercely since the first time I laid eyes on you.” He framed her face with his hands and brushed a light kiss over her suddenly sensitive lips. “You’ll tell him I tried to be upstanding, won’t you?”
That made Seamus laugh—hard. His green eyes were still dancing with amusement when he kissed her again, with much more intent this time. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispered against her lips. “I’ve imagined it so many times.”
“I didn’t know. You never said. . .”
He focused his attention on her neck, sending a torrent of sensation zipping through her. “I tried to resist. I swear I did.”
Before she knew what was happening he had them off the small sofa and was stretched out over her on the floor. The firelight cast a warm, cozy glow over them as they devoured each other with hungry eyes.
“Has there been anyone else?” he asked.
Carolina knew he meant since her husband. She shook her head. “Occasional dates, but no one I cared enough about to sleep with.”
“Ah, my poor lass,” he whispered as he kissed her again. “It’s been such a long, lonely time for you. I have no right to want you the way I do.”
“Why do you say that?”
“My thoughts about you are downright indecent.”
Ridiculously flattered, Carolina linked her hands around his neck. “Is that so?”
Nodding, he lowered his head for another soft, seductive kiss.
“Seamus?”
“Hmmm?” He was sprinkling kisses on her face with immaculate attention to detail.
“If we do. . . this. . .”
That drew a chuckle from him.
“I want you to know. . .”
“What, love?”
“It can’t be anything more.”
He stopped short and stared down at her, his eyes heated and intense. “Why do you say that?”
“You’re so young,” she said, sliding her hands over his shoulders. “Your whole life is in front of you. You’ll want a family and children—”
He stopped her with another kiss, this one deep and hot. “Don’t tell me what I want,” he said softly but firmly. “I’m a grown man who knows himself as well as it’s possible to know oneself.”