by Debbie Mason
And there it was, he thought with a smile; he didn’t have to search for something positive in the night. He was a lucky man indeed. His family would always be there for him. In case he backslid a bit when he thought about Shay, he’d remind himself he’d escaped an even more dire fate. She hadn’t kissed him. So maybe he’d be able to move on after all.
“Everything’s good here, Jeeves. Thanks for going to all that trouble. A romantic dinner is exactly what’s needed to turn things around. I’d be lost if I didn’t have you in my corner,” Michael said, lying through his teeth that a beautifully laid-out antipasto platter accompanied by a baguette and an assortment of miniature cheesecakes could change the outcome of the evening. But he wasn’t about to let Jasper know his efforts were for naught. Given the way Jasper angled his head to study him, it’s possible Michael had overplayed his hand.
Under the intent gaze of the man who’d been watching him since he was a boy, Michael forced himself to release any sign of tension from his face and body and relaxed on the piano bench. He wore an untucked white shirt over his faded blue jeans and took his time rolling the sleeves to his elbows. Then he crossed his bare feet at the ankles and lightly danced his fingers over the piano keys.
He glanced at Jasper, noting the other man’s tension fading too. Atticus made a contented noise, settling deeper in his bed. Music comforted his dog as much as it did Michael.
“I think "Killing Me Softly" would set the mood nicely,” the older man suggested the well-known favorite of Michael’s great-grandmother. Michael indulged him, thinking the song an appropriate choice, as Shay had indeed killed him softly. If tonight had gone differently, he’d be playing John Legend’s “All of Me” instead.
“You’re very good at this romance stuff, Jasper. One would almost think you had some practice,” Michael teased while continuing to play. Despite their objections, or more specifically his grandmother’s, he was pretty sure Jasper and Kitty were romantically involved.
“Truth be told, I’ve had rather a lot of practice,” Jasper said as he bent to retrieve a candle from the table and then walked over to place it on the piano. “I believe a little extra ambience is called for.” He moved toward the opposite wall. “And you’ll be pleased to know you don’t have to worry about your mother arriving unannounced. She’s afraid you’re upset with her for leaving the door open after retrieving her luggage.”
“I am.” His mother was the reason Atticus had gotten out earlier. Information Jasper had quietly imparted to Michael as they searched the woods. Maura had been upset that Michael had left without meeting the women she and the Widow’s Club had chosen for him. As punishment, she moved from the cottage to the manor.
Little did she know that, in his eyes, that was more reward than punishment. He didn’t plan on enlightening her. “Have you found out why she’s…” The lights went out, and he looked around, thinking a breaker must have blown, when he twigged where Jasper was standing. “You know, I think that might be a little much. Maybe you should turn the lights back on, Jeeves.”
“I think it’s rather perfect myself.” He smiled. “Here’s Ms. Angel now.”
Michael looked to where Shay stood frozen just outside the master bedroom door, her gaze taking in the feast laid out on the table, the mood lighting, and him at the piano. She’d changed into clothes Jasper must have dug up for her—a red hooded Harvard sweatshirt of Michael’s and a matching pair of track pants. Wearing too-big clothes and with her face freshly scrubbed, she didn’t look much older than the day they’d first met. His heart tripped at the thought, and his fingers hit a discordant note. Knowing how things would turn out between them, he wasn’t sure he should’ve tracked her down that long-ago summer’s day on Main Street.
“Well, I shall take my leave. No one likes a third wheel,” Jasper said with a smile, and then went to give Atticus a pat goodbye. “Unless that third wheel is a dog.”
Afraid Shay would reveal the truth of the situation, Michael opened his mouth to stave off a response from her. Only he was too late.
“Everything looks great, Jasper. Very…romantic.”
Michael narrowed his eyes at her, unable to tell if the hitch he’d picked up in her voice was a small laugh of amusement or one of horror. However, when Jasper smiled, looking inordinately pleased with himself, it didn’t matter.
Shay walked over to the table and picked up the bottle of wine and two glasses. “You sure you won’t stay and have a drink with us?”
“No, thank you, miss. I have a cup of cocoa and a biscuit awaiting my return.”
Noting the man’s smile, Michael said, “Are you sure that’s all you have waiting for you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Master Michael. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“What was that about?” Shay asked after they thanked Jasper once again and said good night.
He sighed, suddenly tired and thinking it might’ve been best if she left. He didn’t relish the idea of telling her that in Jasper’s mind they were steps away from the altar. Lifting his hands from the keys, he was about to stand up when she joined him on the bench. Startled, the surprise was evident in his voice. “What are you doing?”
“Maybe I’m reading this wrong. Did you not want me here?”
As much as he didn’t want to share with her Jasper’s hopes and dreams for their future, he didn’t want to rehash what his had been. He’d already embarrassed himself enough for one night. “If you were paying any attention at all earlier, you wouldn’t have to ask. And if you don’t mind, I’d prefer not to talk about it anymore.”
She lifted a shoulder and offered him a glass. “Wine?”
He looked from the glass to her. “What are you doing?”
“Seducing you. Is it working?” She laughed. “I always thought the expression ‘their jaw dropped’ was stupid. How can a jaw drop, right? Guess it’s true after all.”
He picked up his jaw from the floor. “Just twenty minutes ago…” He pointed to the spot where they’d been standing and then shook his head. “I’m lost. What happened between I’m sorry and Seducing you?”
She poured him a glass of wine. “Play for me. Please.”
“Thanks,” he murmured, holding her gaze as he took a sip and then placed the glass on top of the piano. With the look in her eyes and the way her warm body pressed against him, hope surged through him as fast as the dry cabernet. He played a different song than he would’ve had the night gone the way he’d hoped. Though he wasn’t about to complain, not with Shay still here by his side.
“What’s the song?”
“"Like There’s No Yesterday" by Mark Wills.” The lyrics spoke to his hope for Shay. He might not know what this was about, but he knew for her to get the life she deserved, even if that life didn’t include him, she had to find a way to get over her past and heal her wounds. He wanted her to dance like there was no yesterday.
She nudged him. “Sing it for me.”
“You’re mixing me up with my cousins. The Harmony Harbor Gallaghers sing, the Summer Gallaghers play.” Michael played the piano, his brother Logan the guitar, and Connor the sax.
“You used to sing for me.”
“All right,” he agreed. Even though his voice wasn’t anywhere close to being as good as his cousins, he could carry a tune without making animals cry. Atticus actually seemed to like when he sang. Shay had too.
“I’m not broken, you know? Or alone.”
He didn’t look at her, just kept singing and playing, and maybe praying, just a little, that the lyrics would stay with her over the next few days. Toward the end of the song, he glanced at her. Her head was bent as she contemplated the wine in her glass. There was a stillness about her that bothered him, and he questioned his choice of song. Maybe he was pushing too hard.
Her head came up when he began playing another song, their song. Sarah McLachlan’s “Angel.” She smiled at him, and he nodded, raising his eyebrows. It was the one song she’d sing
with him. Sometimes.
She leaned down to put her glass on the floor and then straightened. “I just want to listen to you,” she said, and put her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder.
It got to him more than it should, and the next words came out gruff, laden with emotion. “I don’t know if I can do this, Shay,” he told her honestly. “I want you too badly to just be friends. I’m sorry. Maybe in a few months from now, I’ll—”
“I don’t want to be just friends,” she said, and placed a hand on his jaw, bringing his face around to hers, and then she kissed him. Softly, tentatively, as if unsure of his response. He kissed her back, savoring the feel of her soft, pliant lips beneath his. He’d been waiting so long for this moment that he didn’t want to rush it. It was hard to hold back, but he did and pulled away. He needed answers first. “Why now?”
She groaned. “You’re such a lawyer.”
“Agent.”
“That too.” He slid back to swing his right leg over the bench. Then he leaned forward to wrap his hands around her calves, drawing her closer. He held her gaze as he placed her left leg over his right and then her right leg over his left. Moving his hands to her butt, he drew her snug against him.
She released a small, gratifying moan, and he gave her behind a gentle squeeze. She closed her eyes and moved against him like she was performing at the club. He wouldn’t last long if she kept it up, and right now he wanted to last all night.
He brought his hands to her face and kissed her, giving her a taste of how much he wanted her, how much he’d missed her, and then he pulled back once more.
“Oh, come on, that’s not fair.”
He could tell her a couple of other things that weren’t fair, but right now he just wanted the answer to his earlier question. “Why now?”
“Can’t we just go to bed, make love, and then talk?”
“Wow, I had no idea I was getting lucky tonight. I thought the most I could hope for was a kiss, and even that looked doubtful an hour ago.”
She released an irritated sigh and went to move away.
He gave her behind a firm squeeze and kept her exactly where she was. “You’re not moving an inch until I get some answers, babe. And then the only place you’re going is my bed.”
She tilted her head to the side, a slow smile lifting her lips that still glistened from his kiss. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, so tell me why the sudden change of heart. You seemed pretty definite before.”
“Cherry called. She was worried that I wasn’t home yet, and when I told her where I was”—she made a face—“she said she wasn’t letting me in unless I got some somethin’ somethin.’ Her words, not mine.”
“I kinda figured that.” Disappointed and a little ticked at the reason for her sudden desire to jump his bones, he moved his hands to his forehead and rubbed as though that would take care of his frustration.
She removed his hands from his face to put them around her neck, and then she put hers around his. “I’m not doing a very good job of this. Cherry telling me I need to get laid because I’m supposedly off-the-charts cranky has nothing to do with…Okay, so it might have a little something to do with me still being here. But it was more what she said after she said I needed to get laid because I’m off-the-charts cranky.”
“Until you’ve finished your explanation, could you maybe stop talking about getting laid? It makes it a little hard to stay focused.”
“Oh, and what about when I do this?” she said, and moved her hips.
He lifted his hands from around her neck and placed them on her hips. “I’m not sure which is worse. Maybe you should do it again…”
“No, I think you need to hear what I have to say, so there’s no misunderstandings the morning after.”
He stilled and lifted his gaze to hers. “I’m beginning to think talking is overrated.”
“When you asked to kiss me earlier, it felt like you were asking for more. Like by kissing you, I was promising that we were back together again. Like we went from zero to a hundred with nothing in between. I didn’t want to break another promise to you. I won’t break another promise to you. You deserve better.” She stroked his damp hair from his forehead as her eyes roamed his face. “I haven’t felt for any man, or wanted any man, the way I feel for and want you, Michael. But we were young, and I’m worried how we feel about each other, or how we think we feel about each other, isn’t real. It’s just unresolved feelings from the past.”
“Shay, what I feel—”
She placed a finger on his lips. “Let me finish. I’ve changed, and so have you. And there are so many reasons, really good reasons, why we shouldn’t be together. Why we won’t work. Like your job, and me being a suspect, and my uncle being on the run. I guess, I’m…” She looked away and gave her head a slight shake.
“You’re afraid.” He kissed her fingers and smiled at the scowl on her face. “You can still be strong and be afraid. In fact, Atticus and I had this exact conversation just the other morning. So I’ll tell you what I told him. Everyone’s afraid. It’s what you do with your fear that matters. It seems to me that by not giving us a second chance because you’re afraid is more like running away. And that’s not you, Shay. You face your fears head-on.”
She bit back a smile. “So, you and Atticus…Do you have these types of conversations all the time?”
“Often enough. Is that a problem?”
“No, as long as you don’t think he’ll have a problem with me being around.”
“If that means you’re going to give his owner another shot, I’m sure he wouldn’t have a problem with it. Are you?”
“Yeah, but I’m not making any promises. Are you good with that?”
“I’m good with that for now. As long as we agree to revisit it in the next few days. Agreed?”
“Uh, no, that’s way too soon.”
“Sometimes you just know. And it’s not like we’ve just met. How about Valentine’s Day? That gives you a whole ten days.”
“If we find Charlie by then, okay. We’ll talk about promises and commitments then. Now can we talk about sex?”
“We’ve talked enough. I think we should get to the good stuff.” He kissed her while scooping his hands under her backside and lifting her into his arms. He broke the kiss to blow out the candle on the piano, and then the ones on the low table. “We can grab something to eat later. I think it’s important we deal with your cranky issue first.”
“We might not be eating until morning, then, because, according to Cherry, I’m really, really cranky.”
“I might just have to call in sick.”
* * *
Shay startled awake. It took a moment for her to realize where she was. She smiled at the weight and the warmth of the man behind her. His arm, even in sleep, held her tucked against him. She wondered if he’d moved and that’s what woke her up. She heard something outside the closed bedroom door and raised herself on an elbow, glancing toward the door. The navy drapes over the bedroom window blocked out any light, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust.
There was a low grunt from Michael, and then warm lips pressed against her bare shoulder. “It’s early. Go back to sleep.”
“I heard something.”
“You could hear a pin drop. It’s probably just Atticus getting a drink of water.” He lifted his arm, pressed a button, and the face of his watch lit up. “It’s seven.” He yawned and dragged a hand down his handsome face before rolling her into his arms. Burying his face in the crook between her neck and shoulder, he kissed the sensitive spot, making her squirm. “You know, this is the first morning I haven’t wanted to get out of bed in I don’t know how long.”
She placed her hand on the back of his head, running her fingers through his thick, dark hair before pressing his face back to where it had been. “Maybe you could stay a few minutes—”
There was a knock on the door, and it cracked open. “Michael, what were you thinking leaving all t
he food out? Michael?” The door opened wide to reveal Maura Gallagher.
Shay’s heart slowed, its beat languid, her brain and body either unwilling or unable to respond to her commands. She knew she had to do something but had no idea what to do or how to do it.
“What are you still doing in bed? You’re always up at six. I wanted to talk to you about yesterday’s little misunderstanding,” his mother continued, and Michael snapped out of his frozen state. He grabbed the covers and was about to push Shay beneath them when his mother’s eyes, apparently adjusting to the lack of light, went wide. “You! Michael, what were you thinking letting that…that thief into your bed? You’re an FBI agent. You’ll lose your job over her, and then where will you be? Get her out of here! Get her out of my home now!”
Chapter Sixteen
Shay unlocked the door of her uncle’s office at the Salty Dog and opened it an inch. Teased blond hair and a squinty eye filled the crack. Shay sighed. “I’m warning you, Cherry. He better be gone this time.”
Michael had arrived at the bar fifteen minutes ago. No doubt to make a case in his mother’s defense, a defense Shay had no interest in hearing. So she’d locked herself in her uncle’s office to avoid having to.
Moments ago, Cherry, who was apparently on Michael’s side, had said she needed to speak to her, and Shay had trustingly opened the door to the man who’d made her forget a hard-won life lesson: Protect yourself because no one else will.
Cherry pushed open the door. “Yes, the poor man is gone, dragging his broken heart behind him.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. He’s fine. And how do I know he’s fine, you ask?”
“No, I didn’t ask,” Cherry huffed, and walked past Shay to the other end of the office, where she flopped down on the olive-green couch.
Shay ignored the woman while doing her best to convince herself she was right. She wasn’t heartless, and she hadn’t broken Michael’s heart or another promise. “I know he’s fine because it took him more than nine hours to track me down after his mother unceremoniously kicked me out of his bed this morning, and then—”
