by Anna Durand
"Better late than never." I paused to consider how to ask my next question. "Did your mother know other kids harassed you?"
"Aye. Teachers told her."
"What did she do?"
He scrunched his face into a pained expression. "Aileen MacTaggart is not a brazen woman. She's soft-spoken and kind, not inclined to confrontations. She spoke to the parents of the children who'd been taunting me the most, but the best thing she did for me was to give me advice."
"What did she say?"
"My mother told me to stop caring what others think of me and remember that the mean things they say come out of their own fears and insecurities. It has less to do with me than their own self-doubt. As long as I remember that, no one can hurt me." He smiled faintly. "She is clever, my mother. Almost as clever as you are."
"You love her, don't you? In spite of being angry with her for keeping a big secret."
"Of course I love her. She's my mother."
I let my hands fall to my thighs. "I guess I can't understand why a parent would refuse to tell their child anything about their father. It clearly bothers you, and that's why you have a strained relationship with your mother."
"Yes, but she's not a bad person. She was always a good mother." He leaned his head against the wall, his gaze retreating into the past. "She worked hard to support us both, doing all sorts of jobs until she settled on wool processing. Local farmers pay her to clean and spin the wool and even knit clothing from it, which they sell. She encouraged my interest in electronics and technology, even though she didn't understand it. When I went away to university, twice a week she would send me packages filled with things from home. At my graduation ceremony, she cried."
Aileen MacTaggart loved her son, and he loved her. That much I could tell not only from what he said but also from the way he said it. His tone of voice attested to it. The tension between Evan and his mother must've hurt all the more because they'd had a good relationship until recently.
"Do you get along with your parents?" he asked.
I knew he was trying to change the subject, to avoid the painful subject of his mother and his mystery father, but I took pity on him and answered the question. "Yes, I get along great with my parents. They got divorced when I was twenty-four, but there was no acrimony involved. They still talk on the phone once a week even though Mom moved to Seattle."
"If they like each other, why did they divorce?"
This would take a bit of explaining. "I was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. My dad was a cop. It was very stressful for all of us knowing he might be injured or killed at any moment, but it was the worst for my mom. She stuck it out until my brothers and I all graduated from college, then she and Dad agreed to split up. Mom said she needed to be on her own, to find out what she wants to do with her life."
Evan did not speak, though he kept his steady gaze on me.
"I was upset about it at first," I said. "Eventually, I made peace with it. If my parents are happy, I'm happy. We had moved to Utah when I was fifteen. When my parents divorced, they told me the move had been for my mom's sake. Dad hoped Carrefour, Utah, would be a less dangerous place to be a cop."
"The move didn't ease your mother's worries."
"No, but it did make it easier for her to stay until my brothers and I finished college. It was important to her that she not split up the family before then. I respected her choice."
"My mother made different sorts of choices. You might say I had an unusual childhood."
"In what way?"
He twined a lock of my hair around his finger, around and around and around, concentrating on the task. "For one week every June, she would send me to stay with one of my uncles while she went on holiday. Whenever I asked where she was going, all she would say was 'abroad.' I learned to stop asking. There were rumors about where she went and why, but I also learned to stop listening to the gossip."
"Did other kids harass you about that too?"
"Aye. They liked to say my mother couldn't stand me because I'm strange and have Martian eyes, so she had to get away occasionally."
"I'm so sorry, Evan."
"Not your fault." He released my hair, letting it fall away from his finger. "Being with you is the first time I feel like I belong in this world."
My heart ached for him, for the lonely boy who'd been harassed and dismissed, and for the man who still couldn't figure out where he belonged. He'd built a business from the ground up and found incredible success, but finding his place in the world eluded him.
After everything he'd told me, I had to share more of myself. "Guess I should tell you about my second ex-husband and the in-between man."
"Not tonight. We've both opened up enough old wounds."
"You don't mind waiting for the rest?"
"I can wait as long as you need. You're being patient about my secret project, so I'll be patient too. Have to admit I'm curious about how an intelligent woman like you wound up with such bastards."
"I keep picking the wrong men," I said. "I fall for a pretty face and try to make it work even when it's obvious the relationship is doomed to fail. I am foolish and stupid."
"Keely, you are not foolish or stupid," he said in a tone so fierce I had to look at him. "Everyone makes mistakes."
He was forgiving me for my bad judgment. If only I could forgive myself so easily.
"Let me take you to dinner," he said. His mouth stretched into a wry smile. "Donnae worry, I won't call it a date."
Gazing into his eyes, I couldn't remember any of the reasons why I'd refused to get involved with him. He was kind, intelligent, considerate, passionate, determined, sexy. Evan didn't care about my terrible judgment concerning men or my pigheaded insistence we weren't dating. Maybe I could tell him everything---but not tonight. We needed time to decompress, time to get to know each other.
"Yes," I said, "we should go to dinner. It's our first official date."
"Are you sure? Dating is drastic after all."
"We both know I said that because this scares me. But I want to try. I think you're worth the risk." I picked up his hand, clasping it to my chest. "Evan MacTaggart, will you date me?"
"Yes, Keely O'Shea, I will date you."
"Whew," I said, sagging and sarcastically swiping a hand across my forehead. "I was afraid you'd turn me down."
"No you weren't." He took hold of my chin and touched his lips to mine. "I've been all but begging you to date me since the day you first walked into my office."
"Yes, but I've refused to call this a relationship. You must be annoyed about that."
"I could see you had reasons for your fears." He threw his arms around me, hugging me tight, and jumped off the bed with me still caged in his arms and my feet dangling in the air. "I knew you'd come around to my way of thinking eventually."
"You are so arrogant."
"Not arrogance." He set me down. "It's unwavering faith in you."
His words left me speechless. Unwavering faith? We'd known each other for two weeks. Yet somehow, those two words spoken by Evan made sense. He'd told me he believed fate brought us together. I didn't believe it, but it made sense that he did. This man had faith in everyone who mattered to him.
That meant I mattered to him. With a start, I realized he mattered to me too.
"While we're dating," he said, "I think we should have no distractions."
"Okay. What does that mean exactly?"
"Let's not have sex for two weeks."
"No sex?" I drew my head back, utterly confused by his proclamation. "You love sex. You're the man who couldn't keep your hands off me in Scotland."
"We couldn't keep our hands off each other."
"That's true, but it doesn't explain your celibacy idea."
"I want us to get to know each other without the distraction of sex."
The idea did make a certain kind of sense, an Evan kind, but my body rebelled against the idea of going two more w
eeks without feeling him inside me. "One week."
"Ten days."
"Deal. Should we sign a contract?"
"I don't have a pen or paper."
"No problem." I thrust a finger into my mouth, getting it good and damp, then signed my name on his bare chest with that finger. "There. Contract signed."
He wet his finger and signed my chest. "Now it's fully executed."
"No sex for ten days. Sure you can handle that?"
"Better than you will." He tapped a finger on the tip of my nose. "You're the predatory cougar who's determined to ravish a poor, defenseless thirty-year-old man twice your size."
"Ha-ha. You're not twice my size, anyway. One and a half times, maybe."
"One point one, to be precise."
"I'll take your word for that." I gestured at his body. "Better get dressed. I don't think there are any nudist restaurants in this town."
Evan nabbed the towel he'd discarded earlier and snatched up a stack of neatly folded clothes from the dresser. He carried all of it into the bathroom and shut the door.
I watched his fine behind until the door got in the way. That man did have the best ass I'd ever seen. And the best arms, the best legs, the best chest...and the best cock.
Sighing, I resigned myself to ten more days without my favorite part of his body.
I was dating again. How on earth had this happened? Evan tempted me to give up celibacy within minutes of meeting him. Tonight, he'd tempted me to try dating again. Whatever the circumstances, I never could resist him.
And I loved it.
Chapter Twenty
Evan
After our first official date, I said good night to Keely outside my motel room and watched her drive away. The next day, I started my employment at Vic's Electronics Superstore. Working under Keely proved to be a stimulating experience since she conducted my training herself and I got to admire her luscious body all day long. Her breasts bounced when she hopped up on her toes to reach a high shelf, giving me a chance to lend a hand and get an excellent view down her blouse. Whenever she crouched down, I wanted to reach out and lay my hands on that erse of hers. I knew she wouldn't appreciate me doing it in view of her employees.
Then again, I would enjoy having her discipline me. Behave, Evan. I loved the way she said that.
Every evening, we had another date. Sometimes we went to a restaurant and other times we curled up in my motel room to share a meal. On Saturday, the fourth full day of our fledgling relationship, Keely invited me to her home for dinner. We were strolling through a park in the city when she hit me with the suggestion.
"Is your father going out for the evening?" I asked, not joking at all since I assumed she wanted me nowhere near her family.
She surprised me with her answer. "No, Dad will be joining us. Serena would like to come too if you don't mind her fourteen-year-old son being there. When she told Chase you're Scottish, he apparently begged to join our little dinner party."
"Are you sure your father wants me there?" I couldn't believe he did, but maybe Mr. O'Shea planned to have the immigration authorities arrest me at the doorstep. Not that I was breaking any laws by being here.
"It was his idea," she said and nudged me in the side with her finger. "Nervous about meeting my dad, huh?"
"Aye. He was a police officer, which means he probably knows many different ways to murder me and dispose of the body without getting caught."
"You don't need to worry about that unless you criticize his choice of beer."
I must've looked worried---and I was, considering I'd never met a lass's family before---but instead of pitying me, she laughed.
"Relax," she said. "Dad is looking forward to meeting you. My mom wants to meet you too, but she can't get away from Seattle right now. She's an interior designer, and she's got a big project to finish up."
Her mother? I wasn't sure I'd survive meeting her father and already her mother wanted to come for a visit. "I've never met the parents of any woman I've dated or, ah..."
"Had a poke at?"
"Yes."
She hooked her arm under mine and rested her cheek against my shoulder. "Don't be nervous about it. I know you haven't dated much, so it's natural to feel anxious about this. My dad is not a cop anymore. He's a retiree whose favorite pastime is poking his nose into my love life. He's thrilled I'm dating you."
"In that case, I'd be happy to dine with the O'Sheas."
She pulled us to a halt and turned her face up to me. "There's one thing. My dad is in a wheelchair. He was badly injured in a car accident three years ago. A drunk driver hit him head-on."
"Is he all right?"
"The only lasting damage is the paralysis. He can't use his legs."
"Are you afraid I'll be disgusted because he's in a wheelchair?"
"No, but---" Her expression turned pained. "My ex-husband, the second one, hated living with a disabled person. He kept pushing me to put Dad in a nursing home, but I refused. It's part of why we split up."
Though I wanted to know all the reasons why, everything that scunner had done to her, I wouldn't push for more than she wanted to share. "Your father's medical condition doesn't bother me. And if we should ever live together, he's welcome to live with us too."
A relieved smile softened her expression, and her eyes glistened almost as if she were on the verge of crying. "I'm glad you feel that way. For some reason, I want you to meet my dad."
I supposed that was her subconscious way of admitting she cared for me.
The next evening, I pulled into the driveway of the O'Shea home on the outskirts of town. The white house was rather small but charming and well kept, with two stories and a neatly mowed lawn. Along the front, flowers in various shades of red, pink, and purple nestled against the house. A basket of yellow flowers hung on the stoop beside the door. As I climbed the steps, I heard muted voices inside followed by laughter.
I knocked on the door.
Keely pulled it open and smiled, her entire being seeming to glow with the expression. "Right on time. Come inside and meet the gang."
"Gang? Should I have brought a bodyguard?"
"Chill out." She slipped her hand into mine as I crossed the threshold into the vacant entryway. "They're going to love you."
"I was thirteen seconds late."
She pinched my cheek. "You're very cute when you're being precise."
Keely shut the door and guided me through an interior doorway into a cozy little dining room. A gray-haired man with green eyes slightly darker than Keely's occupied a wheelchair at the head of the table. A woman about Keely's age, with brown hair and gray eyes, had taken the chair directly to his right. A teenage boy sat beside her. The laddie had hair a shade darker than his mother's and he squirmed in his chair like he couldn't wait for dinner to begin.
"Hey," Keely's father said, smiling at me. "Welcome to the O'Shea homestead. Hope you like hot wings because we've got the extra spicy ones. That'll test your mettle for sure."
"Dad," Keely said with a tone not unlike the one she used to chastise me, "don't scare Evan away before he even sits down. Let him acclimate before you start ribbing him."
"Oh, don't worry," I said. "The MacTaggarts love to harass each other. I'm already acclimated and desensitized."
When I moved to sit in the chair second from her father's, Keely gave me a wee shove in the direction of the chair closest to him. I raised my brows. She pointed at the chair while making a stern face. The bossy lass wanted me to sit beside her father. Smiling, I took my seat next to the man of the house.
Keely settled into the chair beside me. "Evan, meet my father, Gary O'Shea."
The older man held out his hand to me. "Pardon me if I don't stand for the introductions."
A twinkle in his eyes assured me he was joking.
I shook his hand. "I'm---"
"This is Evan MacTaggart," Keely interjected before I could speak my own name. "He owns the co
mpany that's selling us all those spiffy doohickeys I told you about."
She glanced at me when she said the word doohickeys, and her lips kicked up slightly at one corner.
"What's your company called again?" the elder O'Shea asked. "Keely told me, but when you get old, stuff starts to fly in one ear and out the other."
"Dad remembers," Keely said. "Don't believe a word he says. His memory is like a steel trap."
Her father's smile turned mischievous. "Anything I do remember is still in there only because Keely ordered me to remember. In case you hadn't noticed, my daughter is kind of bloody-minded."
"Bloody-minded?" I said. "I didn't think Americans used that term."
"Most don't, but Keely makes me watch PBS shows about British people. Pretty soon I'll start talking with an accent."
"Try for a Scottish one. Women love it."
Gary O'Shea shot his daughter a meaningful glance. "Keely sure seems to like it."
I swore Keely blushed, not much and only for a split second, but I was sure I'd seen it.
She lowered her head, focused on unfolding her napkin and draping it over her lap.
Her father leaned back in his wheelchair. "So, what's the name of your company again?"
"Evanescent Security Technologies Limited."
"And what kind of whatsits do you make?"
"Surveillance and security devices for personal and business use." Since he looked confused, I added, "Spy gadgets. That's what your daughter calls them, Mr. O'Shea."
"Call me Gary." His lips curved into a crafty smile. "Maybe soon you'll be calling me Dad."
Keely blustered out a breath. "Honestly, Dad, we only started dating a few days ago."
"I thought you met in Scotland weeks ago. What were you doing if you weren't dating?"
Keely froze, her eyes wide and unblinking.
She didn't want her father to know we'd been shagging relentlessly and that she had refused to date me.
I laid my hand over hers on her lap, under the table where no one else could see. To Gary, I said, "We weren't calling it dating, officially. At first, we were sightseeing together. I was Keely's tour guide, showing her the city where I live."