Her longest tenure was twenty-five months—with a family who had taken in four other foster children besides Fiona. When the wife eventually became pregnant with her own biological child, Fiona and her de facto brothers and sisters were reassigned.
Fiona had begged to stay. At thirteen, she was the oldest of the lot and capable of being a help around the house. But the pregnancy was high risk. The doctor said too much stress and chaos would threaten the mother’s health.
Fiona’s personality was quiet and self-abnegating. No chaos anywhere. But the doctor’s orders prevailed.
Fiona’s foster mom had cried and cried. She was too hormonal and stressed out to make a good decision. In the end, it was nobody’s fault, but Fiona had never again invested so much of herself emotionally.
Hartley touched her hand. “Ready to go inside?”
Even that one quick brush of his fingers against her skin sent shivers dancing down her spine. Why did he have this effect on her? “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”
His low laugh held little humor. “My brother and I are civilized people. You don’t have to worry about fistfights.”
“I wasn’t,” she said. “Until now.”
Her attempt at humor took some of the darkness from his face. “C’mon,” he said. “You’ll like the house.”
Fiona’s sandals had spiky heels, so she didn’t protest when Hartley held her elbow as they ascended the stairs. His touch made her knees weak. She had missed him...so very much.
She tried to remember how angry she was about his cavalier treatment of their budding relationship. But the bitterness of his absence winnowed away in the pleasure of having him near again. It was sobering to admit she was perilously close to letting bygones be bygones.
Though it was frustrating not to be able to resist his winsome charm, she liked the woman she was with him. He made her feel sensual and desirable.
Before Hartley was forced to make a decision about letting himself in or ringing the bell, Lisette opened the door and greeted them. Fiona wondered if that was deliberate, so his siblings wouldn’t be in the position of welcoming him back to his own home.
“Everyone is gathered in the dining room,” Lisette said. “The food looks amazing. There’s enough for half a dozen families.”
When the six adults were settled around the table, the housekeeper began setting out the meal on the antique sideboard. The food had come from a top-notch restaurant in the city. Fresh seafood. Ribs. Roasted corn on the cob. The dishes were endless.
The meal and the accompanying conversation progressed in fits and starts. During one awkward pause as wineglasses were being refilled, Hartley leaned in and spoke softly to Fiona. “My siblings are both still relatively new to this marriage gig. Mazie moved in with J.B. after the wedding. Jonathan and Lisette are building their own place.” His warm breath brushed her ear, making her shiver. The arm he curled across the back of her chair hemmed her in intimately.
Jonathan overheard the quiet exchange and lifted an eyebrow. “You’re curiously well-informed for a prodigal son.”
The edge in his voice was apparent.
Hartley shrugged with a lazy smile. “I have my spies.”
Fiona forced herself to wade in. Someone needed to defuse the rising tension. “What will happen to the beach house?”
Three
Nobody said a word. As Hartley watched, Fiona’s face turned bright red. There was no way to avoid land mines with this family around the table. To her, it must have seemed like an innocuous question.
Jonathan spoke up, his smile careful but kind. “It’s a little early to be thinking about those decisions. This was our father’s fortress, his safe place. He didn’t ever tell me what he wanted to do with the house when he was gone, and I didn’t ask. I’m sure the lawyers will guide us through probate.”
Suddenly, Hartley had reached his limit. They were all on their best behavior because of the funeral, but one thing was certain. Jonathan wasn’t opening his arms to let Hartley back into the fold. The unspoken message was clear. Hartley had walked away, and true forgiveness was in short supply.
He stood abruptly. “It was good to see you all. Thanks for the meal. I’d like to take Fiona for a walk on the beach, and then we’ll head out.”
Mazie looked stricken. “Are you leaving town again?”
Again, that awkward silence.
Hartley shook his head slowly. “No. I’m back for good.” There was so much he wanted to explain...so many family secrets to unravel. But how could he upend his siblings’ lives for no other reason than to justify his own behavior? It wasn’t fair to anyone. Maybe he would never tell them.
Fiona stood as well. “It was lovely to meet all of you. Sorry it was not under better circumstances.”
Moments later, the ordeal was over.
Outside in the driveway, Hartley looked down at Fiona’s shoes. “You can’t walk in those on the beach.”
“Barefoot is fine.” She slipped off her sandals and tossed them in the car, adding her small clutch purse as well.
Hartley removed his jacket, tie, shoes and socks, feeling as if he were peeling away layers of frustration and grief. He had always loved the beach, and this house in particular. “The ground is rough between here and the gate,” he said. “Get on my back, and I’ll carry you to the sand.”
Fiona looked at him askance. “I can walk.”
He ground his jaw. “It’s a piggyback ride, not foreplay.”
“Don’t get snippy with me, Hartley. I’m not the enemy.”
She was right. He couldn’t let Fiona bear the brunt of his mood. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Climb on.”
He watched as she shimmied her skirt up her thighs. Maybe he was wrong about the foreplay. Fiona’s legs were enough to keep a man awake at night. When she moved behind him, he hitched her up on his back and curled his hands beneath her warm, supple thighs.
Fortunately for his self-control, the path beneath the house and out to the gate was not far. Fee reached around him to disengage the lock, and soon they were at the water’s edge. He let her slide off his back slowly, steadying her with one hand as she stumbled.
There was no moon. The water seemed dark and menacing. But the whoosh and roar of the waves was a familiar lullaby from his childhood.
He tried to empty his mind of all the sorrow and confusion that had consumed him since he heard the news that his father was dead. Gradually, the inexorable pattern of the tide soothed him.
Fiona stood at his side in silence, her presence both a comfort and a niggling frustration. Twice now, he had made love to her and walked away. The first time, he’d had no choice. The second, he’d been reluctant to embroil her in his family drama. Maybe he sensed that he was using Fiona as a crutch. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to let her get inside his head. In both instances, his behavior was logical if not particularly admirable. But what was going to happen moving forward?
If he still wanted to sleep with Fee, and he did, most emphatically, then he needed not only her absolution, but also some notion of what was ahead for him professionally. Anything beyond that was more than he wanted to contemplate right now.
Almost as if she had read his mind, Fiona spoke softly. “What do you do for a living, Hartley? We’ve flirted and slept together, but I don’t really know much about you at all.”
Her question prodded an unseen wound. He cleared his throat. “Well, before I left Charleston for an extended period, I was a full partner in Tarleton Shipping. We were working on a proposal to add a boatbuilding arm...pleasure craft. That whole deal was going to be my baby.”
“And now?”
He shrugged. “I doubt my brother has any interest in working with me after everything that has happened.”
“Because of this mysterious falling-out?”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “Jonathan is
one of the finest men I’ve ever known. A straight arrow all the way. But as alike as we are physically, our personalities don’t always mesh.”
“Why did you not live at the beach house?”
“I got tired of butting heads with my father over the business. Jonathan had a knack for handling him with kid gloves. Dad and I only yelled at each other. Several years ago I bought an investment property at a premier golf community north of the city. I was the one who would wine and dine clients. Play a few rounds with them on the course. I liked being outdoors, even if golf wasn’t really my thing. But I closed deals and grew the business.”
“Who has done that while you’ve been gone?”
It was a simple question. Not meant to inflict pain. But it hit at the heart of his guilt. “I don’t know.” Fiona hadn’t been the only one he hurt when he’d hared off to Europe. He’d left behind his family and the shipping business and cut all contact. He’d had his reasons. In retrospect, though, he honestly didn’t know if he’d done the right thing.
Fiona moved restlessly. “The beach is lovely, Hartley. I really do need to get home, though.”
“I promised you explanations. It’s late. I don’t suppose I could sleep on your sofa?” He threw it out there hopefully. Fiona’s little house represented the peace and comfort he had lost in this last year.
“No,” she said bluntly. Without another word, she started up the beach toward the gate in the high brick wall.
“Fair enough.” He loped up the incline and scooped her into his arms. It was a tougher slog through the loose sand this way, but he persevered. He needed to hold her.
Fiona didn’t fight him. As soon as they were back at the car, though, she insisted on wriggling out of his embrace. After smoothing her hair and brushing the sand from her feet, she put on her sexy sandals.
Then she stood, hands on her hips, and watched him re-dress. “You don’t owe me explanations. I told you that.”
He rounded the car and cupped her face in his hands. Lightly. Gently. “I want to tell you, Fee. And in the spirit of honesty, I’d like to sleep with you again.”
“Sleep?”
She had him there. “Sex,” he muttered. Even to his own ears, he sounded like a jerk. But he wouldn’t dress it up. He couldn’t offer her anything more. His life was total chaos. Besides, Fiona would demand full-on honesty and intimacy from any man who shared her life for the long haul. That wasn’t him.
Her expression was mutinous. In the glow of the security light, the stubborn tilt to her chin was obvious. “Sex isn’t the answer to all your problems, Hartley.”
“Maybe not, but it would be damned good, and if you’re honest, you’ll agree. I know I messed up. I won’t do that to you again.”
“How can I believe you?” Her low laugh held a hint of dismay. “It’s a painful cliché, but I’m a kid who came through the foster system. Never got adopted. I have a few abandonment issues. Your recent behavior hasn’t helped.”
How many women would have the guts to be so vulnerable? He had a lot to answer for and no clear idea how to fix the messes he had created. “I want to kiss you, Fee,” he muttered. “But I’m trying my damnedest to respect your boundaries.”
Tears glittered in her eyelashes. She sniffed. “Shut up and do it, you aggravating man.”
It was all the invitation he needed. He wanted to snatch her up and take everything she had to give. Instead, he kissed her coaxingly, softly. Trying to tell her without words how much he regretted his missteps.
Fiona made a choked little noise in her throat and finally kissed him back. When her slender arms curled around his neck, he felt as if he had won the lottery. She was soft and perfect against his chest. He lifted her off her feet, desperate to make the kiss last.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “So sorry I hurt you.”
“You’re forgiven. Doesn’t mean I’m a glutton for punishment.” She pushed away from him after a few seconds. Reluctantly, he let her go.
“So, what now?” he asked quietly.
“Nothing. At least not today. Or even tomorrow. Twice, I let you talk your way into my bed like I was a sixteen-year-old girl with her first crush. That was my mistake. I make no guarantees, Hartley. None.”
He rolled his shoulders, realizing ruefully that he had been a little unrealistic about where this evening might lead. Even if he’d been saying all the right things, apparently his libido had jumped ahead to more titillating scenarios. “Understood,” he sighed.
He started the engine and waited for her to climb into the front seat. The ocean breeze had tousled her hair. It stood up around her head like a nimbus, making her a weary goddess...or a naughty nymph.
Which did he want? The angel or the sexy sprite? In his imagination, she was both.
He turned the radio on for the drive back to Charleston. As they pulled away from his father’s home, Hartley glanced in the rearview mirror. Jonathan stood at the top of the stairs, his arms folded across his chest.
Seeing his brother tonight had been surprisingly painful. After all this time, Hartley had been hoping Jonathan might have relented...that he had come to know instinctively that Hartley would never do anything to bring harm to his family.
But apparently, some hurts ran deep. Jonathan wasn’t wiping the slate clean. In fact, he hadn’t made any mention of the future at all. Hartley was on his own.
When they reached Fiona’s street, she gathered her purse and started to climb out as soon as the car rolled to a halt. He took her wrist. “Wait, Fee. Please.”
Her body language was wary. “What?”
“Let me take you to lunch tomorrow. I’ll tell you the whole story, start to finish.” He needed to tell someone. The secrets were gutting him. But his family was off-limits until he decided whether or not the truth would be too damaging. Fiona was a neutral player.
“I have to work tomorrow,” she said.
“Dinner, then?” He was close to begging on his knees.
She hesitated for far too long. “Fine. But if this story is as convoluted as it seems, we should eat at my house. I’ll fix spaghetti.”
“I want to treat you,” he said.
“You can’t spill salacious secrets in the middle of a crowded restaurant. Besides, this isn’t a date, Hartley. You seem to have a need to bare your soul, and I’ve agreed to listen. That’s all.”
“You’re a hard woman.”
“It’s about time, don’t you think?”
“I remember what it’s like to make love to you, Fee. You can’t blame a guy for wanting to re-create the magic.”
“The magic is gone. You killed it.”
Her words were harsh, but she was still sitting in his car. He took that as a good sign. “I love spaghetti,” he said. “What time?”
“Six o’clock. Don’t assume you’ll be able to coax me into letting you spend the night. That’s off the table.”
“Yes, ma’am. You’re cute when you’re busting my balls.”
“Grow up, Hartley. I’m immune to you now.”
* * *
I’m immune to you now. Fiona had never told a bigger lie in her life. She slept poorly and woke up the following morning disturbed by the vivid dreams that had plagued her. Being with Hartley again kindled a hunger in her belly that no homemade spaghetti was going to fill. She wanted him. Still. After everything he had done. It was a shocking realization.
Despite her unsettled mood, she was a professional artist. That meant working regular hours even when her muse had taken a hike. Today was a case in point. It was harder than it should have been to concentrate on her new project...three massive panels that would hang in one of the main rooms of Charleston’s visitor center.
Commissions like this one were her bread and butter. They paid the light bill and kept food in the fridge. But they weren’t humdrum. Never that. She poured her heart an
d soul into every brushstroke.
Because of the size of the canvases, she’d had to buy a special easel that held the work in progress secure. At certain moments, she would have to stand on a ladder to complete the highest portions. Her sketch—the one the city had approved—included historical images all the way from Charleston’s founding up until modern times.
A giant undulating current swept through the center of each panel, propelling the milestones of progress from decade to decade. Included in the visual telling were some very painful periods in time. She could see the finished product in her mind. The challenge she faced was being able to successfully translate her vision into reality.
It was her habit to paint for a couple of hours when she first awoke and then take a break for coffee and a light brunch. After that, she would typically labor for another five or six hours and quit for the day. Hard work and determination had brought her to this place in her career. She was conscious that her success was based on a great many things beyond her control, so she was determined to make the most of her current success.
This morning, though, she found herself swamped with inexplicable fatigue and a draining lethargy that forced her to go in search of calories after only forty-five minutes in her studio.
In the kitchen, an unexpected déjà vu brought her up short. She and Hartley had stood in this very spot and made bacon and eggs amidst much laughter and many hot, hungry kisses.
She put a hand to her chest, trying to still the flutters of anxiety. Hartley wouldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to do. Her problem was far closer to home. It was her. Fiona. The woman with the deep-seated need for love and acceptance.
Hartley made her happy, but more than that, he made her wish and dream, and that was dangerous.
The fact that she had slept with him twice was no big deal. They’d had fun. Their sexual chemistry was off the charts. He was smart and kind and amusing, and she had never met a more appealing man.
Bombshell For The Black Sheep (Southern Secrets Book 3) Page 3
