Heat pulsed inside her, then was rapidly replaced by an icy chill that made her shiver reflexively.
Love?
OhGodohGodohGod.
Trouble. Big trouble.
No way out.
She slapped one hand to her forehead and rubbed at the sudden throbbing of a massive headache. But it wasn’t going anywhere. Her brain felt as if it were about to explode. Her mouth was dry, it hurt to swallow and still she had to speak. Had to say something to keep him from noticing that she was currently in the middle of a minor nervous breakdown.
She pulled in a shaky breath and blew it out before trying to speak. “I’m not yours to worry about Connor.”
How did the man go from smoldering lover to scolding big brother in ten seconds flat? And for pity’s sake, how could she love him for it?
“I-didn’t-say-that.” Each word was bitten off as if it tasted bitter. “All I said was—”
She held up one hand and tried not to notice that it was shaking. Then, curling her fingers into her palm, she said, “I heard you the first time. But whether or not I lock the door is no concern of yours.”
He was right, though, and that only made her madder. She never worked late without locking herself in the garage. Baywater was safe, she knew, but she didn’t take foolish chances. And if she had locked the stupid door, then Connor couldn’t have sneaked up on her, they wouldn’t have made love again and she wouldn’t have had to face the completely startling fact that she’d gone and fallen in love.
“Now I can’t worry about you?”
She shot him a hard look, fired by the anger rippling through her at her own stupidity. “Did you worry before we went to bed together?”
He started to speak, then closed his mouth again. But then, she didn’t need to hear his answer. She already knew what it was.
“No, you didn’t,” she said for him. Fury pulsed wildly inside her, like a living, breathing creature, completely separate from her. He was just like Tony, she thought frantically. This was déjà vu and she didn’t want to go back there. Didn’t want to remember the pain, the disappointment, the regret of having loved someone who couldn’t or wouldn’t understand her.
Like Tony, Connor wasn’t seeing the real her.
“When we were just friends,” she said hotly, “you assumed I could take care of myself. Now that we’ve been naked together, apparently I’ve lost a few brain cells.”
“Damn it, Em,” he took a step toward her, then stopped dead. “I didn’t say that, either.”
“You didn’t have to,” she snapped. “I can see it in your face. God, Connor, it’s practically stamped on your forehead.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“You. Me. This.” She waved one hand at the car where they’d just made love and nearly shivered. But she stiffened her spine instead. “I’ve been down this road before, Connor. Trust me, I’m not going to do it again.”
“What’s that mean?”
“You’re just like Tony.”
He threw his hands high. “Who the hell’s Tony?”
“I was engaged to him three years ago.”
He blinked at her. His expression was thunderstruck. He looked like a man who’d just been pummeled with a two by four and wasn’t sure whether to stagger or fall down.
“Engaged?” He repeated after a moment or two. “You were engaged? Why didn’t I know about this?”
“You never asked.”
He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again.
She shook her head and stared up at him, too wound up to be quiet now, even if that might have been the better thing to do. “You’re just like him, I swear. He never noticed me until I wore girly clothes. Just like you, Connor. And when I was just me, he wasn’t interested. He even wanted me to sell the garage. Become the perfect little wife who baked cookies and drove in car pools. Well, there’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s not me.”
“And I’m like that moron exactly how?”
“Oh, please,” she said, on a roll now and unwilling to quit. “You never looked twice at me until that night at the bar.”
“That doesn’t—”
She cut him off, unwilling to listen to lame-ass excuses. “When I’m a woman, you want to protect me. When I’m me, that all changes. Well, guess what, Connor? I’m the same person. Whether I’m in a skirt or these coveralls.”
“I know that—”
“I don’t think you do. I think you’re all hot and bothered over the girly Emma. Well, that’s not who I am, Connor.” She waved a hand at the grease-spattered coveralls. “This is me. The real me. And she’s not someone you’d go for. Face it.”
“So now you read minds?”
She choked out a laugh. “Yours isn’t that hard to read.”
Darn it, everything was falling apart. Just like she’d known it would. She never should have let this get started. Never should have tried to set him up, because in doing so, she’d knocked the earth out from under her own feet and now she was on shaky ground.
And the fact that a part of her almost wished she were the girly-girl type—the kind of woman that Connor would want—really irritated her.
“So you’ve got this all figured out,” he said tightly.
“You bet.”
“You get engaged to a jerk and then figure every other guy is just like him?”
“Not every guy.”
“Just me.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“The man was an idiot.”
“Yeah,” Emma said, “but at least he was honest about what he wanted. You’re not being honest, Connor. Not with me. Not with yourself.”
“That’s just perfect,” he muttered, shoving both hands along the sides of his head as if trying to keep his skull from exploding.
Well, she knew just how he felt. Funny how the warm, delicious buzz she’d been feeling only a few moments ago had completely faded away. Now all that was left was a sense of loss.
And just a touch of mind-numbing panic.
“You should probably just go, Connor.”
“Not till we talk about this.”
She laughed and the sound of it was shrill, even to her. “We’ve been talking, Connor. And we’re going in circles. What’s left to talk about?”
“Us. What’s going on. Where we go from here.”
“We did that last night. We decided to remain friends—” God, that word sounded empty “—remember?”
“Yeah,” he said with a glance at the car’s hood, “that seems to be working real well.”
“Well it would have if you hadn’t come over,” she snapped.
“Ah.” Connor nodded slowly, his deep-blue eyes hazy with an emotion she couldn’t quite read and wasn’t sure she wanted to. “So the secret to us handling this is to stay the hell away from each other?”
“Apparently.”
“And our friendship?”
Emma looked up at him and felt her defenses crumbling. If he stayed much longer, she just might do something totally idiotic, like throw herself into his arms and say to hell with doing the smart thing. But that wouldn’t solve anything. It would only serve to make this harder eventually. Because she knew that Connor wasn’t looking for love.
Heck, he never dated the same woman more than three times.
He wasn’t a man to build fantasies around, even if she was still into daydreaming. Which she most certainly was not. She’d learned her lesson about love. And this time she’d take her lumps in private. Connor would never know that she was hurt. She wouldn’t let him close enough to see that he had the power to crush her—whether he wanted it or not.
Tony Demarco’s betrayal had hurt her.
When Connor did the same thing, it would kill her.
Nope.
She wouldn’t let that happen.
“I’m not going to lose what we have,” Connor said, when she didn’t answer him. He stepped close enough to drop both hands onto her shoulders and sque
eze. “Damn it, Emma, I like you. The real you. I like spending time with you and I don’t want to lose that.”
He liked her and she was in love. Oh, yeah. Fate had a twisted sense of humor.
“We’ve already lost it, Connor.”
His hands tightened on her shoulders. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She swallowed hard, yanked free of his grip and turned her back on him, headed for the office. He caught up with her in a few long strides, grabbed her upper arm and turned her around to face him. His grip on her arm felt strong and warm. And the thought of never feeling his hands on her again made her want to whimper.
But because she was feeling just a little shaky, she straightened her spine, lifted her chin and met his gaze squarely. “You know just what it means. How are we supposed to pretend nothing’s changed when everything has changed?”
“There’s a way,” he said.
“Well, when you find it, you let me know.”
Connor’s brain scrambled, trying to keep up with Emma. Wasn’t easy, either. Not when his blood was still pumping and his body was still hot and eager.
But looking into her eyes now made Connor want to say the right thing. Somehow or other, he’d lost control of whatever it was between them. Not that he’d ever really had control.
Damn it, she’d been engaged. To some clown who’d hurt her. And now he was hurting her, too. The one thing he hadn’t wanted to do, he’d ended up doing, just the same. Really pissed him off. And left him with a helpless feeling that he wasn’t used to experiencing.
“I think you should just go, Connor.”
Her voice, small and quiet, snapped him out of his thoughts and back to the moment.
Instinctively he reached for her again. She stepped back, avoiding his touch, and he felt the sting of it jab at him. His hand fisted on emptiness and dropped to his side. Something dark and cold settled in his gut, and Connor had the distinct impression that it was there to stay.
“Emma—”
“Just go. Please.”
He blinked at her, too surprised to speak. Momentarily. “You’re telling me to leave?”
She gave him a sad smile. “I’m asking you to leave.”
He swallowed hard and battled a growing sense of desperation. In all the time they’d known each other, they’d never been so far apart. And even though she was just an arm’s reach away, Connor had the feeling that with every passing second, she drifted even further from him.
She sighed and lifted one hand to rub at her forehead again. Guilt zapped him. Damn it, he hadn’t meant to make her feel bad. Hadn’t meant to start an argument that had no beginning and no end. Hadn’t meant to hurt her.
Hadn’t even meant to come here tonight.
Just like he didn’t want to leave her now. Not when nothing had been settled. Not when she looked so damn…sad. But if he stayed, he’d only make this worse. She didn’t want him here, fine.
He’d go.
For now.
Nodding, he choked back his own wants and said. “Okay, I’ll go.”
She gave him a smile that was so small, it was hardly worth the effort. But he appreciated it just the same.
“Thanks.”
“This isn’t over,” he said before he stepped past her and opened the door. He stopped on the flower-bedecked porch and felt the warm summer air wrap itself around him. Looking back over his shoulder at her, he worked up a half-assed smile and said softly, “Please lock the door, Emma.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EMMA BURIED HERSELF in work.
For the past three days, she’d done tune-ups and oil changes and rebuilt two carburetors. She gave her mechanics a few days off and handled everything herself to make sure she kept busy. For three days she concentrated solely on the garage, and when she ran out of cars to work on, she replanted the flower beds.
Anything to keep from thinking about Connor.
And still it didn’t help.
Mary Alice had sympathized and even offered to send her husband out to beat up Connor. But Emma didn’t want him bruised—she wanted him to love her. Which wasn’t going to happen.
Standing in the garage bay, she glanced toward where the car they’d made love on had been parked. And though the car was gone now, the memories remained.
Every touch, every sigh, every whisper was as fresh and clear in her mind as if it had just happened. She remembered his smile, the shine in his eyes and the feel of his hands on her skin. Her body ached for him and her heart just plain ached.
“Oh, man…” She set the torque wrench down and rubbed her eyes with the tips of her fingers. She hadn’t slept more than a few hours in the past three days. Up at dawn, she worked late at the shop, trying to avoid sleep because every time she closed her eyes, Connor appeared in living color.
She’d done this to herself, she knew. She’d walked into this with her eyes wide open—and her heart undefended. But she hadn’t ever considered that it would be in danger. How could she have guessed that the love she used to dream about would be found in the arms of her best friend?
“And the worst part,” she said, picking up the wrench again and squeezing it tightly, “is that I can’t talk to my best friend about any of it. And darn it, Connor, I miss you.”
THE SUN WAS BRIGHT, the sky clear and the ocean calm. In short, it was the perfect day for some saltwater fishing. A couple of times a season, Brian borrowed a little sport fisher boat from one of his pilot buddies, and the four Reilly brothers had a long day at sea—away from phones and work. Ordinarily Connor would have enjoyed the day out with his brothers.
Today he was forcing himself just to pay attention. Disgusted, Connor shifted his gaze from the frothing sea to the deck, where his brothers gathered around an open cooler.
“I’m telling you,” Aidan said, pausing to take a sip of beer, “the wind was so high, the chopper was rocking back and forth like somebody was trying to shake us out. J.T. had hold of the stick with both hands, fighting to keep us steady. Right under us, the Sunday sailor’s clinging to the upended bottom of his boat and he’s holding on for dear life.”
“Probably glad to see you then, huh?” Brian smiled and snapped his right wrist back, then forward, casting his line out into the ocean. Then he stuck the bottom of his rod into the pole holder on the side of the boat and set the bail on the reel. Leaning back, he watched Aidan and waited for the rest of the story.
“See that’s the deal,” Aidan went on, looking from one brother to the next with mock outrage. “There I am, jumping out of a chopper into storm surf—the waves were seven, maybe ten feet high—just to save this guy’s ungrateful butt and does he thank me? Hell no, he takes a swing at me when I try to get him into the rescue basket.”
“What?” Liam sounded incredulous, but Aidan’s story didn’t surprise Connor. People always reacted weird in a panic situation. Which is why Marines came in so handy during a disaster. Cool heads.
And God knew Aidan needed a cool head doing his job. Working on the USMC sea rescue team, they were the guys called out to help stranded boaters or pick up pilots after they’d ditched their planes in the sea. The job was hard, dangerous and right up his brother’s alley.
Aidan laughed. “No shit. The guy’s panicked. Won’t let go of the hull of his boat. Water’s slapping at him, wind’s howling, and he won’t let go of the damn boat. Finally, he pries one hand off to take that swing at me, tells me he’s afraid of heights and he wants us to send a ship out for him.”
“A ship?” Liam asked laughing. “You mean like the one that sunk out from under him?”
“Exactly.” Aidan leaned back against the side of the boat and drew both knees up, resting his forearms atop them.
“So how’d you get him in the basket?” Connor asked, drawn into the story in spite of the turmoil racing in his mind.
Aidan laughed. “I climbed into the basket myself and said, ‘see ya.’ The guy was so stunned that I’d leave him out there, he let go of the hull and j
umped at the basket. I got out, got him in and Monk hoisted him up.” He shook his head and sighed fondly. “Hell of a ride.”
“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Hero,” Brian teased and walked toward the hatch leading to the galley below deck. “Come on, hero. Help me carry up that mountain of sandwiches Tina made for us.”
“Tina made food?” Aidan asked, clearly worried. “Is it safe?”
“Hey,” Brian complained as he started down the short flight of steps. “She’s getting better.”
Aidan groaned and muttered, “She couldn’t get any worse without killing us.”
“Yeah, well,” Brian said, chuckling, “Tina’s not real fond of you, so maybe you should watch what you eat.”
“What d’you mean she’s not fond of me?” Aidan’s voice was outraged. “I’m the fun one!”
But he followed Brian out of the sunshine into the galley, leaving Liam and Connor alone on deck. The screech of the seagulls sounded weird and otherworldly in the silence. Off in the distance a sailboat caught the wind and flew across the ocean’s surface, its red sails bellied, as it raced toward the horizon. Overhead, clouds scuttled across a deep-blue sky and briefly blotted out the sun’s heat.
Connor sighed and focused his gaze on the distant spot where sky and sea met, blurring the lines of both. In the quiet, the gentle smack of the water against the hull was soothing, but didn’t seem to help the thoughts churning in his mind.
He probably shouldn’t have gone along with his brothers today. But if he’d tried to get out of it, he’d have had to come up with explanations he wasn’t ready to make.
“Want to tell me what’s going on?” Liam asked and sat perched on the edge of the boat’s stern. He braced his hands on his knees and waited.
Connor flicked him a glance, then shifted his gaze back to the horizon’s edge. “Nope.”
Liam nodded, reached out and fiddled with the reel on Connor’s fishing rod.
“What’re you doing?”
“The bail was locked. Anything nibbles at your line, you lose the rod.”
Kiss Me, I'm Irish Page 40
