by JoAnn Ross
She paused when he slumped and dragged both hands down his face. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” He took a deep breath. Blew it out.
“It’s a very standard test,” she assured him. “The reason we do it is the dye makes the arteries visible on X-ray, revealing areas of blockage. In your wife’s case, it appears not to be a problem we need to worry about at the moment. She was fortunate to receive good care from the start. She’d taken a small aspirin last night, but EMTs gave her an additional one, which reduces blood clotting to allow the blood to flow through a narrowed artery. They also gave her nitroglycerin to dilate the vessels, and oxygen, and installed an IV so she’d be ready for us to give her clot busters as soon as she arrived. Time, as you may know, is of the essence.”
“Both my parents died of heart attacks,” Ben said. “Both on the same day. Mom in the morning, Dad at night.”
“That, unfortunately, occurs,” she said. “It’s been recognized as sudden adult death syndrome, triggered by emotional stress. I’m sorry that you had to experience such a loss.”
“I got through it.” He brushed her sympathy off with his typical Harper male bravado. “All I want to know is when I can see my wife.”
“We’ll be moving her upstairs and settling her into a room,” the doctor said. “She’ll need to stay for three days, possibly more, until we’re sure it’s safe to release her. But she can’t resume her normal work life for probably eight weeks.”
“I’ll take care of her.” Ben shot a look at Seth. “I’m nearly retired now. She needs me more than you do.”
“Absolutely,” Seth agreed. “And don’t worry about the work. We’ll be fine.”
“All right, then.” The doctor glanced down at her watch. A code coming over the loudspeaker called her back to her duties. “We’ll talk again over the next days. Meanwhile, if all goes as well as I expect, she should be able to go home in a few days. But you need to remember that she’s still at risk. I’ll want her to undergo a stress test as a follow-up to see how her heart and blood vessels respond to exertion. However,” she said, more gently than she’d spoken since entering the room, “on a positive note, I’d say she’s a lucky woman, Mr. Harper. And I suspect, from the bit she and I have talked, she’s very special and you’re a very fortunate man.”
“You’ve got that right,” Ben agreed with more heartfelt emotion than Brianna had ever heard from him.
Caroline had to be all right, she thought. Because all of the Harpers, who were in new phases of their lives, needed her to be.
* * *
BEN HAD JUST finished taking a much-needed piss, which he hadn’t allowed himself to do because he’d refused to leave the waiting room for a second for fear of missing his wife’s doctor, when of all the damn people in this town, Mike Mannion strolled down the hall.
“My wife isn’t allowed visitors,” he growled as his hands, scarred from a lifetime of saving Honeymoon Harbor houses, fisted.
“I understand. I’ve already talked with the charge nurse.”
Of course he had. For some reason Ben hadn’t been able to understand, every female in Shelter Bay seemed to go into estrogen overload whenever the artist was around.
“She told me that she was holding her own.”
“She’s a tough girl,” Ben said, softening a bit as that night they’d met flashed back through his mind. “One of those steel magnolias. She’s going to be fine.”
“Of course she will,” Mannion said in an agreeable way that made Ben want to punch him in that pretty black Irish face. “But I came here to talk with you.”
“What about?”
“Why don’t we take it to the coffee shop?” the other man suggested. “Or outside.”
If they went outside, he’d risk slugging the guy. Which Caroline would probably never forgive him for. He shrugged, even as his gut clenched. Ben didn’t want to hear anything Mike Mannion had to tell him. Especially anything to do with his wife.
“I guess I could use some coffee,” he said. His nerves were already jangling with worry and all the toxic sludge they called coffee from the hallway vending machine, but he figured the cafeteria was better than discussing their situation somewhere private.
After dropping back into the waiting room, letting everyone know that he was just getting some coffee and needed some time alone, Ben was sitting at a corner table, hunkered over a cardboard cup of joe he didn’t want, waiting for whatever Mannion had come here to hit him with.
“I’ll get straight to the point,” Mike Mannion said. “I love Caroline. I’ve loved her since that first night of the play, when she came over to talk to me about the set.”
“She left with me.”
Mannion nodded. Eyed Ben over the rim of the brown-and-white cup. “She did, to my everlasting regret. To tell the truth, I didn’t think you two would last the summer. You’re very disparate personalities. Different.”
Ben’s fingers tightened on the cup enough to send coffee splashing over the top onto the table. Both men ignored it. “I know what the hell disparate means. Just because I work with my hands doesn’t mean I don’t have a brain. Or a dictionary.” He’d like to see artsy-fartsy Mannion do a damn day’s work with his hands creating something that people, families, could build a life in. He painted pretty pictures that went on walls the Harpers had once built and now restored.
Another nod. “I didn’t mean to sound condescending.”
“Like you didn’t mean to take up with another man’s wife?” Ben challenged. His teeth clenched so tight he imagined he could hear them cracking.
“I haven’t taken up with her. She’s merely a student. And a friend. She appreciated the roses, by the way. Nice touch.”
Ben wanted to hate this rival. But gave him credit for offering some kernel of hope. He wasn’t sure that if he’d been in the other man’s shoes, he would’ve been that generous.
“But here’s the thing,” Mannion continued, his own jaw stiffening. “I know she’s given you an ultimatum. I suspect this incident could well tilt things. Whether toward or away from me, I’ve no idea. But I imagine when you think you might die, you take stock of your life.”
“Makes sense to me,” Ben agreed.
“So if you can’t pull this off and give her what she wants, what she needs, I’m giving you fair warning that I can. And I will. And you’ll be the one out in the cold, remembering a night when the most amazing woman you’d ever met in your life drove into town, showed up at a small-town Theater in the Firs, then left you to spend the rest of your days thinking about what might have been.”
His piece said, Mannion picked up his cup and tossed it, untouched, into the recycling bin on the way out of the coffee shop.
* * *
BRIANNA WASN’T THAT surprised when Seth’s visit with his mother was short. Although she hadn’t kept track, she doubted it lasted more than three minutes. It must have been horrible for him, having lost his wife, then almost his mother, both without any warning.
“It’s not your fault,” she said as they drove back to Herons Landing.
“She was coughing.”
“So is half the town. It’s spring in the Pacific Northwest. My car got covered with tree pollen while I was having lunch up on the ridge. I’ve probably been going through a box of Kleenex a day.” That might have been an exaggeration, but not by much. “It’s one of the prices we pay for living in such a stunning part of the country.”
“And she looked tired.”
“Her marriage is rocky right now. Which, thinking about it, also means she could lose her income if she and your dad can’t find a way to continue to work together. It only makes sense that she wouldn’t be sleeping well. When I first arrived, you had enough bags beneath your eyes that if you decided to fly anywhere, they’d probably charge you extra luggage fees.”
“Did you talk thi
s way to those rich guests? Or am I the only one who’s lucky enough to get the tough love lecture?”
Ouch. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to blame yourself. These things happen.”
“Yeah. I’m very well aware of that.”
He didn’t say anything else on the way back to the house, but she could feel him silently berating himself, possibly going all the way back to those arguments Zoe used to tell her they were having about ROTC. Because best friends tell each other everything, she knew how hard he’d tried to talk her out of going into the military. Now, she feared, his mind was filled with if only’s.
He wasn’t a negative person like his father, but one thing they did share was that, even on a good day, Seth wasn’t that talkative. So she decided there was no way to discuss this, at least not now, that would soothe his pain.
And this was one of the few cases when she doubted that food would work, either.
Which only left one thing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
AS SOON AS they entered the house, Bandit greeted them as though they’d been gone a year instead of a few hours. Brianna gave him a huge bone and his ball, which would hopefully keep him busy, and put him outside.
Then, without a word, she laced her fingers together with Seth’s and led him toward the back stairs.
“I’m not sure I’m up to this,” he said. “Not right now.”
“You don’t have to do a thing,” she said. “We both need something to hold on to right now. So, I’ll hold on to you, while you hold on to me.”
Except for that first time, when she’d embraced her inner Kylee and initiated the shower, Seth had always made the first move. Not that she’d minded. Because all his moves were excellent.
But this time she undressed him slowly, lifting his shirt over his head, then pressing soft, gentle kisses down his chest. As always, she felt that shock of awareness and sexual need when her lips brushed over his abdomen, but she forced herself to control it.
“Sit down,” she said, pushing him onto the bed.
Although the color was impractical, she’d gone with a romantic, all-white bed in shades of cream, ivory and a soft snowy shade. For now, she’d draped a light taupe throw over the handmade quilt she’d bought at Quilters Garden, but come winter, she was looking forward to the fluffy white faux-fur throw her mother had put a photo of on the room’s design board.
She knelt on the floor, unlacing, then removing, the black and white Converse All Star high-tops he was wearing today instead of his usual work boots.
She pressed another kiss against his bare ankle, pleased when he’d responded with a shudder. She’d discovered that surprising erogenous zone the second time they’d made love, and was even more pleased that he’d hadn’t even known he had it.
And wasn’t that the wonder of making love? Sharing and discovering new and special things about each other? It was hard to hide who you were when you were naked, open and, yes, vulnerable.
After kicking off her Keds, she climbed up on the bed, straddling his hips as she got busy on those five damn buttons that he insisted on wearing. Why couldn’t he wear jeans with a zipper? Then again, being forced to slow down was probably a good thing today. As she pressed a series of kisses along his shoulders, she could feel the rock-hard tightness start to relax.
After unfastening each metal button, she pressed her lips against the placket of his navy boxer briefs.
“Bri...” He dragged his hands through her hair, but did not pull her head away. Oh, she was getting to him. As she had in years and years of forbidden dreams. But the reality was so much better.
“Soon,” she promised, as he arched his hips off the bed. She was pretty sure that he wasn’t thinking about either his wife or his mother right now, which was precisely what she’d intended. “I’ll need you to scoot over so I can get these jeans off.”
“If I last that long.”
“This is for you,” she reminded him. “Just do whatever comes naturally. Whenever.”
“I want to be inside you when I come,” he said, shifting so his head was now on the pillow. Although he was tall, the king bed allowed him to stretch all the way out with room to spare.
“Lift up.”
When he arched his back and lifted his hips, it was all she could do not to just stop and take him in her mouth now. But this wasn’t about her. She wasn’t the one aching. Well, except in parts of her that would just have to wait.
She yanked the faded denim over his hips and down his legs, then stripped him of his briefs. Then leaned back on her heels and just drank in the sight of him so hard, so aroused. For her. The idea was thrilling. As she stripped herself, watching that wonderful dark smoke fill his eyes, she felt strong and invincible. Like Wonder Woman. And she wasn’t even wearing magic bracelets.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he complained.
“Once again we’re in perfect agreement.” It wasn’t the easiest thing to undress while kneeling on a mattress but she managed it with, she thought, a reasonable amount of sexiness. From the flame that flared in those smoky eyes, he’d definitely enjoyed her little impromptu striptease with her bra.
He finally lost his cool, giving in to the powerful needs within by ripping away the pretty little thong. “Sorry,” he muttered against her bare hip as she felt and heard the ribbon tie rip.
“I’m not.” She was about to straddle him again and regain the slow, dreaming and soothing pace. Then decided that there were many ways to soothe. If fast and hot was what he wanted, what he needed, Brianna was going to give it to him.
He rolled her over onto her back, put his hands on her inner thighs to spread her legs, then paused.
“You didn’t take the quilt off. We’re going to mess it up.”
She almost laughed, but loved him for even thinking of it at a time like this. How many men would actually listen to all her wavering over the impracticality of white beds, and the care of cleaning, but they were so romantic...
“That’s what washing machines are for.”
They’d discussed condoms the first time and since they’d both been tested during routine physicals and hadn’t had sex with anyone for such a long time, with her being on the pill, they’d decided not to bother. Although she’d always been a strong advocate for safe sex, she couldn’t deny that bare hot flesh to flesh, which she’d only ever had with him, was sublime.
Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her hips in invitation.
He took her with a power he’d never revealed. With a force that she definitely hadn’t expected. The storm sweeping over them was violent, but not dangerous. Trusting him as she did, it only fed an equally strong recklessness in her.
They rolled over the large mattress, hands grasping, teeth nipping and sucking, hips pumping fast and furious. He gripped her hips, lifting her up to feast on her, his tongue and teeth creating a hard, fast climax that lanced through her.
Then, grabbing her wrists in one hand, holding them over her head, he thrust into her, plunging hard and deep, taking her. Claiming her even as he relinquished demons who’d been tormenting him for far too long. But he wasn’t finished. Even as she fell back to earth from her second stunning orgasm, he was hard again, pumping in and out as her legs wrapped around his hips. Looking straight into those flaming dark eyes Brianna surrendered to the fury. And to him.
* * *
WHAT THE HELL had he done? After emptying himself in her again, leaving them both lying in a dampness that risked staining the precious antique quilt she’d been so excited about finding, drenched in sweat, Seth suffered a shame he’d never, ever felt. A feeling even worse than the survivor’s guilt that had stalked him since Zoe’s death.
He rolled off her, onto his back, and covered his eyes with his arm. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Her voice was shaky.
<
br /> “I used you.”
The sex had been absolutely consensual. In fact, if he wanted to give himself a break, which he didn’t, Brianna had initiated it. But in his heart, Seth knew that he’d used her. To overcome the guilt he was feeling about his mother, but most of all to burn away the pain and even deeper guilt that had been tearing at his insides since the day those officers had informed him that because of him staying safe at home in Honeymoon Harbor, his young, vital, beautiful wife had been blown to pieces.
Without a word—what could he possibly say?—he got off the bed, went into the bathroom and cleaned up. Then took one of the pretty white towels (which had to be the most impractical color on the planet—who thought that stuff up, anyway?), dampened it and brought it back to her.
His heart wanted to wash her. Tenderly. With the care and love she deserved. Shame had him unable to look at her as he simply handed her the cloth and began collecting his clothes.
“I think it was mutual,” she said quietly. “And you’re not going to hear me complaining.”
“Because you don’t complain.” He yanked the briefs over his treacherous penis. It wasn’t the first time it had taken on a mind of its own (hello, high school), but it had never, ever behaved violently. “Hell, crazy women needing emergency Botox, tigers with diamond engagement rings, Doctor Dick wanting you to pay back fifty thousand dollars he was stupid enough to throw away—you’re unrelentingly nice to everyone. It’s who you are. And it’s why I can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“I can’t be with you.” He still refused to meet her eyes as he turned his jeans right side out and pulled them up his legs. By the time he was ten years old, spending lazy summer mornings fly-fishing with his brothers, he’d been able to tie a full dress feather-winged salmon fly, which was still considered one of the most difficult to tie by fishermen his dad’s age. Yet right now those same hands were shaking so badly he could barely fasten the damn buttons. Why the fucking hell didn’t he just buy jeans with zippers? “Not in the way you want. In the way you deserve.”
