by Marie Force
She propped herself up on one elbow and looked him square in the eye. “I think I might be now.”
“Really?”
She nodded.
He jumped up. “Hold that thought.”
“Luke! Where’re you going?”
“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”
Still wearing only the towel around his waist, Luke ran out to the truck. His hands were shaking as he unlocked the glove box and retrieved the ring. He went back inside and stopped himself in the hallway to take a deep, cleansing breath. When he had managed to calm down, he rolled his shoulders and returned to the bedroom.
Syd was sitting up on the bed with her legs curled under her. She eyed him warily.
With the ring box enclosed in his fist, Luke crawled up the bed to her.
She looped her arms around him and kissed him. “What’re you up to?”
As his heart hammered, Luke drank her in. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe that she’d come back to him, that she was here to stay, that the feelings of peace and joy she’d brought with her might last a lifetime.
“The last time, I did this all wrong. The timing was terrible. I didn’t have a ring. You weren’t ready. This time,” he said, reaching for her left hand and bringing it to his lips, “I want to do it right. Sydney Donovan, undisputed love of my life, will you do me the great honor of being my wife?”
She blinked back tears as she placed her hands on his face and gave him the sweetest kiss he’d ever received. “Yes,” she whispered against his lips.
Relief flooded through him, making him tremble. He pulled back from her to open the box and remove the ring.
She sucked in a sharp, deep breath as he slid it onto her finger. “Oh, Luke, it’s gorgeous! I love it!”
“I love you, and I always will.”
“I love you, too. Thank you for being patient with me.”
“I would’ve waited forever for you.”
With an exuberant squeal, she threw her arms around him. “We’re engaged!”
Luke closed his eyes and held on tight, absorbing the moment as the fear finally released its grip on him. “When do you want to tie the knot?”
“Can I think about that and get back to you?”
“Whatever you want, baby. Anything you want.”
Chapter 6
It took a couple of hours to work up the nerve before Laura sent Justin a text, asking if he could meet her at six on Friday at his favorite Providence restaurant. She said only that she needed to talk to him about something. Her hands were clammy by the time she sent the message. Placing the phone on her bedside table, she went into the bathroom to brush her hair and freshen up.
The phone chimed to indicate a new text. Her mouth went dry with anxiety when she picked it up to see what he had said. One word: Fine.
“Well,” she said. “That’s that.” She rested a hand on the still-small baby bump and was rewarded with a ripple of movement that made her smile. The baby’s tiny movements reminded Laura that her brief marriage hadn’t been a total loss.
She went downstairs to see what Owen was up to and found him in the kitchen, standing watch over a pot on the stove. “That smells amazing! What did you make?”
“Sauce from scratch,” he said proudly, lifting the lid for her to take a whiff. “My grandmother’s recipe.”
The combined aromas of garlic, basil and oregano had her taste buds standing up to take notice. “My mouth is watering,” she said as she slipped onto a stool at the counter.
The review earned her a big grin from the chef. “I have to boil the pasta, and then we can eat.”
They’d fallen into the habit of having dinner together every night. They took turns cooking, and some nights they went out, but it had become a standing date. One of the things she liked best about being with him was that it was easy. Neither of them had ever said the words, let’s have dinner every night. It just happened. Everything with him was comfortable, except for one thing—the itchy, restless feeling that came with unfulfilled desire.
If she looked at him, she wanted him. It was that simple. But then she remembered what he wanted—a life free of encumbrances, which made her wonder why he’d want to get involved with her and her many encumbrances. She shook off those unpleasant thoughts. It was better not to think about the inevitable day when the freedom of the open road would beckon him.
She cleared her throat. “I didn’t know you could cook like that.”
“Neither did I. Don’t get too excited until you try it. It might taste like crap.”
“If it tastes anything like it smells, we’ve got a winner. Do you like to cook?”
“I haven’t really had much chance, being on the road so much. I used to make a lot of grilled cheese sandwiches and pizza and stuff like that for my siblings, but I haven’t done much cooking since then.”
Since he so rarely spoke about his family or childhood, Laura was intrigued by the insight he’d shared. “Why were you cooking for them?”
“My parents were busy. They were out a lot, and I was in charge of the troops.”
“How old were you then?”
“I don’t know. Twelve, maybe.”
“You were twelve years old in charge of six younger siblings?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“No wonder why you’re so good at taking care of me.”
“Am I good at taking care of you?”
“You know you are.”
He poured the lemon-flavored sparkling water she favored into a wineglass and put it in front of her.
Laura smiled up at him. “Exhibit A.”
Shrugging, he said, “Close your eyes and pretend it’s chardonnay.”
He was so adorable and so effortlessly charming. It never failed to touch her that he took such good care of her, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to him. He was always one step ahead of her, thinking of what she might need before she knew she needed it. A girl could fall madly, deeply and irrevocably in love with a guy who paid that kind of attention to her.
“What’re you thinking about, Princess?” He puckered his lips in a mockingly serious expression that was so far out of character for him it made her laugh.
Because she couldn’t very well scare the hell out of him by telling him she was thinking about falling irrevocably in love with him, she said, “Nothing much.”
“Did you talk to your dad?”
She nodded. “He said to feel free to toss his name around with Justin. I hope it doesn’t come to that.” She looked up at Owen. “I’m meeting Justin on Friday at six in Providence.”
“We’ll take the three-thirty boat. I’ll make a reservation for the car.”
Laura was filled with relief. She hadn’t even had to ask him. “You know you don’t have to come.”
“Yes, I do.”
Her heart began to do that odd pitter-patter thing that often happened in his presence. When it first started happening, she’d chalked it up to pregnancy. Now she knew it had nothing to do with pregnancy and everything to do with him.
He put down the spoon he’d been using to stir the pot and wiped his hands on the towel he’d tossed over his shoulder. When he was satisfied that his hands were clean, he used them to frame her face, compelling her to look up at him. “I know I have absolutely no right to say this, but I don’t want you to see him by yourself.”
“You have every right to say anything you want to me.” In an attempt at levity, she added, “I’d say you earned it after scraping me off the bathroom floor every morning for weeks.”
“Which was entirely my pleasure.”
“You’re easy to please.”
“You make it easy.”
He stared into her eyes for a long, breathless moment as a hectic band of color slashed his cheeks, letting her know she wasn’t the only one tormented by the attraction zinging between them.
When he looked at her in that particular way, Laura’s mind went blank, taking with it all the reason
s this was a bad idea. She reached up to link her fingers on the back of his neck, drawing him down to her.
“Laura…”
As she pressed her lips to his, she realized this was the first time she’d ever reached out and taken what she wanted from a man. And oh, how she wanted this man.
The kiss was chaste and sweet and even hotter than it had been earlier, which was saying something. When he would’ve pulled back from her, she tightened her hold on him. Their eyes met and held. He looked as undone as she felt, which was strangely comforting. Tipping his head ever so slightly, he kissed her again. This time, he slid an arm around her waist and drew her tight against him.
Laura melted as his nearness set off a riot of reactions that registered in all the most important places.
He brushed at her bottom lip with his tongue, coaxing his way into her mouth.
The moment their tongues connected, Laura forgot who she was, where she was and why this could lead to disaster if he suddenly decided he wanted to be somewhere else. She couldn’t get enough, no matter how tightly she held him or how enthusiastically she met the thrusts of his tongue with her own answering strokes.
A growl rumbled through him that threw gas on her already out-of-control fire.
Her fingers burrowed into his hair and held on tight. In the far recesses of her mind where sanity lived, she wondered if she might be hurting him. Even farther off in the distance, she thought she heard someone call her name. Because investigating would mean stepping away from the most incendiary kiss of her life, Laura ignored it.
“Um, oh, sorry,” the voice said, closer now.
Laura tore her lips free and turned to find her friend Stephanie standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Her face was bright red with embarrassment.
Owen kept his arms firmly around Laura and buried his face in the curve of her neck. His lips and breath sent a delightful array of shivers skirting over her sensitized skin.
“I brought the, um, book I told you about,” Stephanie said as she put the book on the counter, “but I can see you’re busy, so I’ll be going now.” She backed away from the doorway, flashed Laura a big grin along with a thumbs-up and was gone.
“That was embarrassing,” Laura said.
As if she hadn’t spoken, Owen raised his head, gazed into her eyes and kissed her again, softer this time but with no less urgency. Reaching behind him, he killed the flames under the pots.
Laura waited breathlessly to see what he would do next.
With his hands on her hips, he lifted her onto the counter, stepped between her legs and pulled her in tight against him.
When his erection snuggled into the V of her legs, Laura gasped and pushed against him. And then his hands were cupping her breasts, his thumbs sliding back and forth over her nipples that were feverishly sensitive thanks to the pregnancy.
“Owen,” she said.
“Hmm?” His lips were busy on her neck, making her mind go blank again.
“I forgot what I was going to say.”
He let out an unsteady laugh and pressed her hand against the hard bulge in his shorts. “That’s what happens every time I lay eyes on you.” Punctuating his words with kisses, he added, “Every. Single. Time.”
Touched by his gruffly spoken words, Laura took advantage of the opportunity to explore the length and width of him, swallowing as he got bigger and harder under her hand. Since he was so tall and broad-shouldered, she wasn’t surprised to discover he was big there, too. When she thought about how he would feel inside her, she shivered in anticipation.
As she squeezed him gently, his head fell back and his fingers dug into her shoulders.
“Until today, you never told me you wanted me like this,” she said.
“Yes, I did.”
“When?” she asked, continuing to stroke and caress him.
“When the last ferry left on Monday without me on it. Didn’t that say it all?”
“I suppose that did make a statement.”
He stopped the movement of her hand. “No more of that.”
“Why? I quite like it.”
“I quite like it, too. Far too much.” He brought her hands to his shoulders. “Keep them there.”
Laura’s heart pounded as she waited to see what he would do. She noted the slight tremble of his hands as he unbuttoned her shirt and pushed it open. Her enhanced pregnancy breasts overflowed the cups of her white cotton bra, making her face heat with embarrassment. “I keep meaning to buy bigger bras.”
“Don’t,” he said, his voice hoarse as he lowered his head and pressed his face into the valley between her breasts. “You’re so sexy.”
Laura arched her back, encouraging him.
He released the front clasp, and her breasts sprang free into his waiting hands. “Oh God, you’re gorgeous.”
Before she had time to prepare, his mouth was feasting on her nipple, hot and hungry. She clutched his hair, which was the only thing that kept her from sliding off the counter into a boneless pile on the floor.
“How many days until Friday?” he asked, his lips vibrating against her breast.
The question made her laugh, nervously. He was putting her on notice that the minute Justin knew about the baby, their relationship would shift to the next level. “Three.”
He turned his attention to her other breast. “I’m not going to make it.”
Laura’s stomach chose that moment to let out a keening growl.
“Shit,” he muttered. “I’m pawing you like a madman, and you’re probably starving.” He dipped lower to press his lips to the tiny baby bump.
Touched by his attention to the baby, Laura combed her fingers into his unruly hair, attempting to smooth and straighten.
He looked up at her, and the raw emotion she saw shining in his eyes was nearly her undoing. As she watched him pay homage to the child growing inside her, she realized that she no longer had to worry about the possibility of falling in love with him. It had already happened, probably quite some time ago as he was peeling her off the bathroom floor and making her tea and tending to her every need as if he’d been born to do exactly that.
With what seemed to be great reluctance, he stood up straight, tucked her breasts back into her bra and refastened the buttons on her top. When he was done, he rested his hands on her shoulders.
Laura tipped her forehead against his chest, gathering herself. She couldn’t let him see that she’d fallen for him. The last thing she wanted was to make him feel trapped. If he felt trapped, he might run, and she really wanted him to stay. More importantly, she wanted him to want to stay.
“Let’s get you and the little guy fed,” he said.
Grant McCarthy was rarely intimidated, but Stephanie’s stepfather, Charlie Grandchamp, intimidated the hell out of him. It had taken Grant days to work up the nerve to drive out to the small house Charlie had rented from the island’s resident land baron/cab driver, Ned Saunders. The media attention following Charlie’s release from fourteen years of wrongful imprisonment had driven him to the island, seeking peace and quiet—and the chance to be closer to the stepdaughter who’d been so relentless in her efforts to get him released.
Grant parked the motorcycle he’d borrowed from his brother Mac in the yard and took a deep breath for courage before walking up to the open front door and knocking.
No answer.
Great. I finally make it out here, and he’s not around. Spotting the other man’s small pickup truck, Grant walked behind the house to the barn that served as a workshop and garage. “Hey, Charlie?”
“In here.”
Grant swallowed hard and stepped into the dusty space that smelled of dirt and mildew and other substances he didn’t try too hard to identify. Charlie was bent over the workbench, sanding a block of wood. He was tall and muscular with a gray buzz cut and a piercing blue-eyed stare that Grant found unnerving—particularly since it was often directed his way. “Um, how’s it going?”
“Fine.”
&nb
sp; Since his release, Grant had learned his girlfriend’s stepfather was a man of few words, especially where Grant was concerned.
“Something on your mind?” Charlie asked.
“Ah, well, Stephanie, actually.”
That got Charlie’s attention. He spared Grant a brief glance before he returned his attention to the project on the bench. “What about her?”
“I, um, you know we’ve been together for a while now.”
“Coupla months,” Charlie said with a harsh chuckle. “Does that count as a while these days?”
Grant had no idea what to say to that. He decided to go with the truth. “She has a lot of insecurities because of everything that happened when she was younger. We tend to argue, from time to time, and to me it’s part of the fun of being with her. For her, though, it’s upsetting. More than it should be. I’ve been thinking about how I could make her feel more secure. About me. About us.”
“And what’ve you come up with?”
“I’d like to ask her to marry me.” Grant met that steely stare, determined not to blink. He almost succeeded. “Before you tell me why it’s a terrible idea, let me assure you that we wouldn’t get married right away. I want her to know I’m in it for keeps so she won’t get that haunted look on her face whenever we disagree about something.”
“I know that look.”
It was the first thing Charlie had ever said to him that didn’t make Grant feel like the guy hated him for being alive.
“What?” Charlie asked. “Are you surprised I know what you’re talking about? I looked at that face every week for years when she came to see me in prison, and that line between her brows tore me up as much as it tears you up.”
With that one statement, he tripled the number of words he’d said to Grant in their brief acquaintance. Grant cleared his throat. “I want her to know I’m not going anywhere without her. Not now. Not ever.”
Charlie ran the sandpaper back and forth over the block of wood while Grant stood twisting in the wind, waiting for the other man to say something. Anything. Without looking at Grant, he finally said, “You love her? Really, really love her?”
