Fiona couldn’t explain any of that without divulging Hartley’s secrets.
Those secrets weren’t hers to tell.
“I’m sure Hartley can find a date for the birthday party. And I’m also sure it’s not good for the baby or you to get so upset. Give Hartley some space and time to regroup. He’ll be fine.”
Mazie cocked her head, studying Fiona as if she could see inside her brain. “I was under the impression the two of you were pretty serious.”
Fiona bit her lip. Hard. She refused to cry in front of the other woman. “I think Hartley and I want different things out of life. Besides, he needs a chance to get back in the groove at Tarleton Shipping.”
“Did you have a fight?”
How was Fiona supposed to answer that? “Not a fight exactly. I suppose you could say we had words. But it’s over. We’re both fine.”
Mazie scrunched up her face and ran her hands through her hair. “Why can’t anything be simple, dammit? I thought you were perfect for my brother. I can’t believe he let you slip through his fingers.”
“It was my fault,” Fiona said, not wanting Mazie to be disappointed in her brother. “I needed things that Hartley wasn’t ready to give. So don’t blame him. It’s just that he and I are two very different people.”
Mazie’s face fell. “Well, that sucks. Can you tell me more? Maybe I can knock some sense into him.”
“It’s personal,” Fiona said. “I’m sorry, Mazie. I love your family, and I would have liked to be a part of it. But it’s not in the cards.” She paused briefly. “I hate to be rude, but I really do need to get back to work.”
Mazie’s eyes glittered with tears. “He needs somebody.”
“You’re matchmaking, because you and J.B. are so happy, but not every relationship works out. Hartley will find someone else.” Saying those words out loud was an actual physical pain.
“I suppose.” Mazie’s glum acceptance didn’t make Fiona feel any better at all. “I still wish you could come to my birthday party,” Mazie said.
“Perhaps you and I should have lunch one day. Just the two of us. A girl can never have too many friends.”
“I’d like that. I won’t let you slip away simply because my brother is dumb. I’ll call you soon. Sorry to interrupt your work.”
Fiona said her goodbyes, locked the front door, threw herself down on the sofa and cried...
Fifteen
Unfortunately, tears never solved anything. When her pity party was over, she was no closer than ever to finding answers, and now she had a headache and a stuffy nose besides.
She wiped her face with the hem of her T-shirt and sat up. Reaching in her pocket for her phone before she could change her mind, she sent Hartley a text.
I miss you.
When he didn’t answer right away, she reminded herself that he was at work. The important thing was, she had made an overture. Not only did he need to come pick up his birthday gift for his sister, but Fiona needed to see him face-to-face and tell him the truth.
To make sure she didn’t back out again, she added a second text.
Mazie’s birthday present is ready. Let me know when you want to pick it up.
The dizziness and light-headed feeling she experienced when she hit Send had nothing to do with her pregnancy this time. She was so damned scared.
What would she do if he ignored her entirely? Thankfully, Mazie’s painting was Fiona’s ace in the hand.
A few hours later as she was fixing herself an early dinner of tomato soup and grilled cheese, her phone finally dinged. Now is good for me, the text said.
Her heart stopped. She wasn’t ready. Her hands were clammy and shaky.
Can we make it 6:30?
I’ll be there.
With barely an hour to scarf down her food, clean up the kitchen and take a quick shower, she had to hurry. Instead of a sundress, which was her go-to hot-weather wardrobe when she wanted to look nice, she found a pair of new jeans in her closet and paired them with a simple button-up shirt. White. Sleeveless. Nothing to say she wanted to look good in front of an ex-lover.
For courage, she added the seahorse pendant Mazie had given her. The little creature was cool against her hot skin.
Again and again she rehearsed the words she wanted to say when she revealed her pregnancy. All the things she had wanted to say when they were at the hotel but didn’t have the chance. Letting Hartley off the hook. Telling him he didn’t have to be involved with the baby at all.
All the practice in the world wasn’t going to make this confrontation any less painful. What she really wanted to do was get down on her knees and beg him to love her and her baby. To plead with him to be happy.
When the knock came at six thirty sharp, she opened the door. Instantly, she knew that Mazie had been right. Hartley looked terrible. Still handsome, of course, but stripped of life. His eyes were dull. The usual joie de vivre that put a twinkle of mischief in his expressive face was gone.
“Come on in,” she said. “The painting is on the sofa.”
When she closed the door, he stopped in front of her and bent to kiss the top of her head. “Hello, Fee.”
Silly tears sprang to her eyes. She blinked them away. His tenderness was more painful than outright hostility. Swallowing the huge lump in her throat, she led him through to the living room. “There it is.”
Hartley stopped in his tracks, his expression awed. “My God, Fiona. This is phenomenal.” He picked up the small canvas with careful hands and examined it closely. “You’ve captured the two of them exactly. Mazie will adore it.” He turned back to look at her, where she had paused in the doorway. “I knew you were talented, but this is something else again. You’re an amazing artist. I don’t think I fully understood how gifted you are until now.”
His praise warmed the cold places in her broken heart. “Thanks. I’m happy you like it. Shall I wrap it for you?” She had brought the supplies from her studio just in case.
“Yes, please.”
He prowled the room for the few minutes it took her to enfold the framed canvas in thick kraft paper and tie it with a fancy golden bow. “There you go,” she said. “All ready for the birthday girl.” Some tiny part of her still expected him to invite her to the party, but Hartley didn’t say a word.
Despite the awkwardness between them, a silly sprig of hope continued to push through her fear. She couldn’t procrastinate any longer. “Hartley, I need to talk to you about something.”
“Me first,” he said. “I need a favor. I know we didn’t part on the best of terms, but I need your help.”
“With what?”
His expression was bleak. “My siblings and I have been summoned to the lawyer’s office tomorrow morning at ten. Something about a letter from our father. Written to me. But the other two are supposed to be there to hear it read aloud. J.B. and Lisette will come with Mazie and Jonathan, of course. I’d like somebody with me who is in my corner.”
“It’s your family, Hartley. Of course they’re in your corner. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to intrude.”
“I’m going to have to sit there and let my father berate me from the grave. The others may have forgiven me, but my dad died before I even came home. This isn’t going to be pleasant.” He pressed three fingers to his forehead as if he had a headache.
She swallowed, feeling frustrated and emotional. Finally, she had worked up the courage to tell Hartley about her pregnancy, and he had rerouted the conversation before she could even start.
“You need to eat,” she said. “It will make you feel better.” There she went again. Trying to make herself indispensable.
In her small kitchen, she waved him to the table and found him a beer. While she made a second version of the meal she had eaten earlier, Jonathan brooded visibly. His masculinity dwarfed the modest room. Or maybe it was
his expansive personality.
Hartley was larger than life. He had the family background and the adventuresome spirit to pull off any scheme he chose to pursue. Go racing off to Europe to uncover a decades-old secret. Buy an enormous wreck of a house and blithely decide to renovate it at a moment’s notice.
Sweep a bridesmaid off her feet a year ago and make her fall head over heels in love. That last one was his most outrageous affair. Fiona had been an ordinary woman with an ordinary life until Hartley came along.
She sat beside him and sipped a glass of iced tea while he wolfed down the modest meal. He ate as if he were starving.
It was ridiculous to feel sorry for him. The man had plenty of money. Charleston was chock-full of fabulous restaurants that offered takeout. But she loved him, despite the impossibility of their relationship. She wanted him to be happy.
Suddenly, she knew she couldn’t procrastinate any longer. She would make love to him one last time and then lay all her cards on the table. “Hartley,” she said. She reached a hand across the table and held his wrist. “Would you like to stay the night?”
* * *
Hartley nearly choked on his soup. His body went on high alert, sensing danger. Is this why he had come? He could have asked Fiona to deliver the painting via local messenger service. He’d told himself the package was too valuable to entrust to other hands.
The truth was far simpler. He had wanted to see Fiona again. Her three-word text had been all the permission he needed.
Even so, he equivocated. “We always end up fighting afterward.”
She lifted his hand and kissed his fingers one by one. “Don’t be mean, Hartley.”
“Would you rather me be nice?” He leaned toward her and curled a hand behind her neck, pulling her close for a searing kiss. The taste of her went to his head like 100 proof whiskey.
He had tried to stay away. He really had. But it was a losing battle. Until another man put a ring on her finger, he was going to fight for what he wanted. And he wanted Fee.
Slowly, he stood, tugging her to her feet. After what had happened at the hotel the night of the gala, he was stunned now to realize that Fiona wanted him as much as he wanted her, not that such a thing was possible.
His body was on fire for her. The hunger consumed him. Something had spooked her when he mentioned traveling the globe. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. If Fiona was interested in hot and temporary, he would be that guy.
He knew what it felt like to sleep alone. He’d be damned if he would let it happen again. Now that she had offered an olive branch, he was determined to make the most of this extraordinary turn of events.
They navigated the narrow hallway hand in hand. It was still daylight outside. Fiona’s bedroom glowed in the late-day sun, even with the curtains drawn. She hadn’t made her bed that morning. The tumbled sheets were an erotic invitation.
They barely spoke a word this time. Perhaps because talking always got them in trouble.
He unbuttoned her top. The lacy bra beneath did little to hide pert raspberry nipples. She was softer than he remembered, her breasts fuller and rounder. Maybe absence truly did make the heart grow fonder.
When she was naked, he lifted her into the bed and rapidly removed his own clothes. Climbing in beside her was like coming home.
His breath came in short, jerky gasps. “I won’t ask any questions, Fee. Your reasons are your own. But know that I wouldn’t want to be any place else in the world right now.”
Her lips were bare. Pale pink. Kissable. Wide eyes stared up at him as he leaned over her on one elbow.
She cupped his cheek. “I was afraid you didn’t want me anymore.”
His rough curse held incredulity. “I’ll never stop wanting you, darlin’. You’re the one who seems to have a few issues.”
When he reached for a condom, she put a hand on his arm. “You won’t need that. I took care of things.”
“Whatever you say, Fee.”
When he moved between her legs and thrust slowly, the sensation of bare skin to bare skin made him shudder. “I’ve never been with a woman like this. It feels damned incredible.”
“Yes,” she whispered. She kept her eyes open the entire time, almost as if she were trying to memorize his face.
He gritted his teeth, clenched his jaw. Tried to stave off the climax that was a desperate convergence of condomless sex and long celibate days without her.
Finally, he rolled to his back, taking her with him. Now he could finger her center, send her over the edge. Her orgasm triggered his own. He came forever. Until he was boneless, helpless.
She collapsed on his chest at the end. He held her tightly, stroking her hair. “Fee...”
He trailed off, not knowing what to say and not wanting to cause another argument. Fiona seemed perfectly content when they were together like this. Why was she so skittish in other ways?
At last, she moved away from him and padded in her bare feet to the bathroom. When she returned, she had pulled a T-shirt over her head. It was long enough to cover the tops of her thighs.
Her face glowed with happiness. “It’s only eight o’clock. You want to pop popcorn and watch a movie?”
He raised up on his elbows and grinned at her. “Or have sex again?”
“Can’t we do both?” She returned his smile with interest.
“Or I could show you the new house.”
“You’ve made progress?”
“A little.”
“Sure,” she said. “Let me get dressed. You want to walk? The humidity is down. It’s a nice evening.”
“I could be persuaded.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were outside. The scent of bougainvillea and roses mingled with car exhaust and someone cooking a late-evening steak on the grill. The neighborhood was still busy at this hour. Kids on bikes. Grown-ups sitting on front porches, processing the day.
They walked at a leisurely pace. Even so, Hartley’s woebegone house was not more than twenty-five minutes away.
He watched Fiona’s face as they approached. Her eyes widened. “You’ve already closed on the property and done all this?”
“I was motivated.” And he was trying to use physical exhaustion as a sedative. Being physically close to Fiona when he was here working had taxed his self-control. He took her hand. “Come see the inside.”
When he unlocked the front door, a musty smell greeted them. But it wasn’t anything as unpleasant as mildew. More of an old-library odor combined with a house shut up in high temperatures.
“Easy,” he said as he steered her around piles of rubbish that he had already accumulated. He gave her the grand tour. Parlor. Dining room. Kitchen. An antiquated bathroom. “We can’t go upstairs yet. Too dangerous.”
She shook her head. “I thought when you went back to work with Jonathan you would hire a contractor.”
“I will...eventually. But I needed something to keep me busy in the evenings.”
She didn’t react at all to his leading comment. In the front hallway, she leaned against the wall and looked up at the cobwebby chandelier. “So are you really going to flip it or live in it? It’s awfully big for a guy who says he doesn’t want babies.”
“Not every man is cut out to be a father.”
“I suppose.”
Was it his imagination, or did her face look stricken? Maybe she was disappointed in him.
The golden evening lost some of its shine. “We’d better get back,” he said gruffly.
He locked up and checked windows. They reversed their route. Fiona had invited him to stay the night. He wasn’t sure it was the thing to do. But who was he kidding? He wasn’t going to say no.
In the end, they did pop popcorn and watch a movie. With his arm around Fiona and her head on his shoulder, it was almost possible to pretend that everything in his life was perfec
t.
When it was time for bed, the tension escalated almost imperceptibly. This was the first time he had been expressly invited to spend the night. The moment seemed significant, but in light of everything that had happened, he wasn’t sure how.
Fiona rounded up a toothbrush for him. They took turns showering and met in the bedroom. She seemed shy. He was torn in a dozen different directions. Tomorrow’s visit to the lawyer loomed, though he thrust the knowledge away, determined not to ruin this night. He wanted her badly. Should he disguise his need until she trusted him more?
His beautiful artist made the decision for him. They had barely turned out the light before he felt her hand slide beneath the covers. She wrapped her fingers around his erection. “Make love to me, Hartley.”
The sex was perfect. Their bodies knew each other now. He could make her gasp. She knew how to pull him to the edge of release and keep him there until he was ready to cry uncle. They moved together in silent yearning.
As they drifted off to sleep, he was struck by the inescapable notion that tonight was the last time. Sadness enveloped him. Giving up wasn’t his style, but he sensed Fiona pulling away. Her thoughts were a mystery.
In fact, she had wanted to talk to him at the hotel, but he had shut her down.
What was the point of being together if all they had was sex? He used to think it was enough, but now he wasn’t so sure...
Sixteen
Fiona awoke with a jerk, her heart racing. Someone was in the house. “Hartley...” She whispered his name urgently. When she reached for him, his side of the bed was empty.
Her heart rate slowed, but now she had a bigger worry. Grabbing up her robe, she slipped it over her naked body and belted it. For some reason, she felt the need to tiptoe in her own house.
She found him in the kitchen. He had put on his boxer briefs, but the rest of him was gloriously naked. Ignoring the ache and zing of completely understandable lust in her pelvis, she went to him and combed her fingers through his sleep-rumpled hair. “You want to talk about it?”
Bombshell For The Black Sheep (Southern Secrets Book 3) Page 14
