by BETH KERY
She really needed to get a life.
“Brendan told me that he and Jenny are spending the holiday weekend in Chicago,” he said quietly.
She blinked, the seemingly innocuous statement striking her as charged. “They always go visit Marc after Thanksgiving,” she said, perhaps a little defensively.
A small smile pulled at his mouth. Her lips trembled. She stared fixedly at his collar as he dipped his head and spoke next to her ear.
“I know you weren’t sending the kids away with any illicit purpose in mind,” he said. “But it is a good time.”
“It is?” she whispered. His face was only inches from hers. He possessed a Grecian nose—straight and bold. For some reason, the combination of his nose, his mouth, cleft chin and jaw were nearly as compelling as his dark eyes. Her gaze was often drawn downward…especially when he stood this close.
He nodded and released one of her hands. He used it to brush a tendril of hair off her cheek. She shivered at his light touch.
“Yeah. For us to go out.”
“Go out?”
“Yeah…on a date? Friday night?”
She blinked. The thick sexual tension she’d been experiencing fractured slightly. The word date sounded a little mundane. Every sense organ seemed to go on high alert at Eric’s touch. Her body, at least, seemed to want much more than just a date with Eric Reyes. “Oh…a date. Like the movies?”
“Uh-huh,” he murmured before he brushed his warm, firm lips against hers. Her body went on red alert once again. He kissed her cheekbone and spoke near her right ear. His breath against her skin made her tingle with delight. It reminded her she was alive…an exciting, vibrant woman.
“I pick you up, we go to dinner and a movie, we talk. A date.”
“A date,” she repeated, as if she’d never heard the word in her life. It took on a whole new meaning when Eric said it. “Okay.”
He leaned back slightly and smiled. “Yeah?”
She nodded and stared up at him, transfixed, her desire swelling. Then she freed her hand and grasped his shoulders. She went up on her toes and touched her lips to his.
She kissed him like she meant it, and when Colleen threw herself into something, she made it count.
When they separated a moment later, both of them were breathing heavy. Eric looked like she’d just hauled back and clobbered him with a club.
“That means you do want more, right?” Something akin to bliss was starting to filter into his dazed expression.
She gave him a droll glance and kissed him once more on the mouth. “I think that’s been pretty well established,” she said, removing her hands from his shoulders with reluctance. “I’ll think about it in a rational manner and give you my final decision on the matter tomorrow evening after dinner.”
He looked like she’d just clubbed him again. “Rational manner? Final decision? You’re starting to make me nervous. Is this some kind of a test?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she chastised, extricating herself from his arms. “I should go. I’ve got to get the kids to bed.”
“Colleen,” he said darkly when she started to sweep past him.
“I’m not trying to be difficult,” she said, taking in his rigid expression.
“I want you so much I can’t sleep at night. And you’re telling me you plan on putting me on trial while you make a rational decision?”
“It’s not a trial.”
“After everything that’s happened tonight—after the way you just kissed me—how can you even say the word rational?”
Her spine stiffened. It was hard enough for her to walk away from him, to focus on the mundane details of her life, when all she wanted to do was throw herself back in his arms and allow him to sweep her away on a tidal wave of sensual delight. It frustrated her that she couldn’t express adequately to him how daunting this little adventure was for her. It might be run-of-the-mill for him to woo a woman, but Colleen felt like she was stumbling around clumsily in new territory. The knowledge of her vulnerability set her a little on edge.
“What’s the problem, Eric? Aren’t you the banner-waver for the ‘let’s be rational about romance’ society?” she asked in a hushed voice.
Something shifted in his expression. “So you want to be rational?’ he asked, his calm tone belying the hard glitter in his gaze. “All right. Good luck.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked warily.
“Just that I’ve tried it,” he muttered through a tight jaw, his low voice rough with emotion. “I’ve succeeded at being objective my whole life.” He startled her by reaching up and cupping the side of her neck in his palm. “Only problem is, it doesn’t seem to be working all that well when it comes to you. If I can’t be logical about this, I hope to hell you can.”
He leaned down and kissed her, hard, quick and potent. Thought evacuated her brain. Her toes curled in her boots. A few seconds later, he released her and walked out of the kitchen, leaving her to her chaotic thoughts and a body buzzing with arousal.
His admission that he was having difficulty in maintaining his objectivity when it came to her left her stunned. It was so unlike him to be so forthright…so transparent. Wasn’t it? she wondered, her confusion mounting.
Damn that man, she thought heatedly as she smoothed her hair and tried to pull herself together.
How was it that he always managed to get in the final word?
Chapter Nine
A plate crashed onto the floor, causing Colleen to squeak in surprise. She set down the tray of china she’d been carrying on the kitchen counter and knelt to retrieve the jagged pieces.
“Be careful, honey. Don’t cut yourself,” Brigit advised from where she stood next to the oven, a whisk poised in her hand.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Colleen moaned in regret.
“It’s okay. It’s not like it’s precious china or anything.” Colleen met her mother’s blue eyes and saw she was teasing. Brigit set down the whisk and stretched out her hand. She pulled Colleen up to a standing position.
“You stir the sauce. I’ll clean that up,” she said, bustling toward the pantry. “It was just a salad plate. I’ve got plenty extra of those.”
Colleen stood at the stove, feeling clumsy and out of sorts, when she heard the broken china clinking in the garbage a moment later.
“Now,” Brigit said as she opened up the refrigerator and withdrew a casserole dish, her movements economical and graceful. “How about if you rinse off the china, and I’ll take over at the stove?”
“Are you sure you trust me with it?” Colleen muttered.
“Quite sure,” Brigit said breezily. “And while you’re at it, why not tell me what’s got you so distracted today? Or should I say who’s got you so distracted?”
Colleen glanced sideways at her mother and sighed. She’d been right last night. Her perceptive mother had picked up the sparks between her and Eric.
“Nervous about Eric coming to dinner?” Brigit asked matter-of-factly.
“A little. Technically speaking, it’s the first date I’ve been on since I was twenty years old,” she mumbled morosely. She glanced over at her mother. “Aren’t you nervous about Eric coming here?”
“Not so much. A few months ago, I would have thought it was bizarre, the idea of him coming to a family Thanksgiving. I remember how angry he was during the hearings. Sometimes I felt like he thought I was the one who had robbed him of his mother and injured Natalie.” Brigit had a faraway look, as if seeing those emotion-filled, painful memories after Derry’s death from a great distance. She sighed and turned off the gas burner. “Eric was just a kid at the time. I don’t blame him for his anger, even if I had trouble accepting it back then. I was too filled with my own grief, my own loss, to comprehend how another person could hold anger toward me. I didn’t understand that when death strikes so many, the emotions ricochet around like a bullet in a sealed room, hitting targets you would never expect. Eric’s anger toward me was just as misplac
ed as mine toward him. It was wrong, but it still makes sense. Maybe we needed to go through it. Maybe. But it’s done now.”
Colleen stood very still next to the counter, goose bumps on her arms. Seeing her mother in an unguarded moment was rare.
“You like Eric, don’t you?” Brigit asked quietly.
“Yes,” she replied, averting her face while she began rinsing the plates.
“What’s the problem, then? I see the way he looks at you.” Colleen turned her head at the sound of her mother shutting the stove. The delicious aroma of roasted turkey and sweet potatoes wafted through the air. “I can tell you’re nervous, honey. You always did get quiet when you were worried about something.”
“Quiet and clumsy,” Colleen mumbled.
“Exactly.”
She knew Brigit wanted her to open up, but she felt torn. How could she tell Brigit that one of the reasons she was feeling so conflicted about engaging in a relationship was her hurt over what she’d discovered about her mother and father? She wasn’t a child anymore. It wasn’t as if her parents owed her anything.
So why do I feel so betrayed?
Her hands stilled as she set down the gravy bowl. The thought shocked her a little. Is that how she felt? Betrayed by the knowledge of her parents’ infidelities?
“I’ve worried about you,” Brigit said, drawing her out of her thoughts.
“Me?” Colleen asked, caught off guard. “Why?”
Brigit took off the oven mitts, looking thoughtful. “For the first couple years after Darin died, I understood you were grieving. I know how hard it was for you. But as time went on, I began to wonder if you’d ever consider allowing other men into your life. You’re so independent. You’re a lot like me that way.”
Colleen continued with her actions, as though nothing was wrong, but Brigit’s unexpected openness made the questions she’d been repressing for the past few months pop into her brain.
Why did you do it, Mom? How could two people who loved each other so much have strayed? Part of her was desperate to understand how her mother could have betrayed Derry…how Derry could have betrayed her.
“Colleen,” her mother said softly, drawing her out of her thoughts. She went still when she saw Brigit’s expression. Her pretty face looked more lined than usual, weighed down by sadness and regret. Dread rose in Colleen’s breast. It reminded her of how she’d looked on that night last summer when Liam had confronted her about Lincoln DuBois.
They’d spoken of it on that night—Derry’s emotional upset at the time of the crash, Brigit’s affair with DuBois and the discovery that Deidre wasn’t Derry’s child. Brigit had been devastated by revealing those secrets to Colleen and Liam, but Colleen had remained strong, trying her best not to crumble when her mother was so vulnerable.
“Yeah, Mom?” Colleen asked in a false “everything is fine” tone.
“Does any part of your nervousness about Eric have to do with last summer?”
“Of course not,” Colleen murmured evenly, her heart thrumming louder in her ears at the knowledge that Brigit had somehow gleaned her private thoughts.
She glanced sideways when her mother didn’t immediately respond. Brigit’s mouth trembled.
“Because I want you to know something. I know everyone—maybe me most of all—has said you and I are alike over the years, but they’re wrong. I’m wrong, to always be saying that to you.” Brigit inhaled as if for courage. “The truth is, you’re stronger than me. I keep things to myself, while you were always comfortable with who you were. You were always confident enough to openly express your emotions.”
“Mom—” Colleen began, but her mother stopped her by holding up her hand in a halting gesture.
“Let me just say this, and it’ll be done. Mari told me about what you said to Janice Tejada at the engagement party—how Janice should go and talk to Tony while the emotions were fresh…get it all out in the open. I’m not sure how you got so wise about that sort of thing, but you certainly didn’t get it from me or your father. We hid our feelings and vulnerabilities…buried our hurt. We paid for it in the end. I can’t tell you how proud I am of you for being so open and honest about your feelings.”
“Your pride may be misplaced,” Colleen said, thinking of her cowardly avoidance of Eric because she didn’t know how to handle her attraction to him.
“I don’t think so,” Brigit said quickly. “Anyway, I won’t belabor this. It’s still a tender wound for all of us, and it’s a holiday. I’m only bringing it up because I know how your mind works. I’ve seen how you look when you’re second-guessing yourself, and you’ve really got yourself twisted into a knot when it comes to Eric. I just wanted to say, you and I—we’re two different women. I made mistakes in regard to love, and I live with that regret. But don’t make my regret yours, honey. Try to trust yourself.”
A shudder of emotion went through her. “Mom, I don’t know what to say.”
Brigit smiled and opened up a drawer. “You don’t have to say anything. I was the one who needed to do the talking. Now…after you’ve set the table, would you mind peeling some carrots for the relish tray?”
Colleen accepted the peeler her mother handed her, both relieved and sad their conversation was at an end. “Of course. And Mom?”
Brigit paused in walking toward the stove and glanced back.
“I know we’re completely different people. But I’ve always been proud to be compared to you.”
Brigit’s lips trembled. She came over and gave Colleen a quick but heartfelt hug before she resumed her cooking, averting her face. Colleen noticed her surreptiously wiping at her cheek with her apron. Poor Mom. Always so protective of her feelings, Colleen thought with a bittersweet mixture of fondness and sadness.
What her mother had said was true. They were very different women, but Colleen loved Brigit—imperfections, mistakes and all—just the same.
Brigit’s unexpected insight and advice had made Colleen feel a little less burdened by her worries. Nevertheless, when she heard the doorbell ring at six o’clock sharp that evening, her heart began to flutter erratically.
“That’s Eric. I’ll get it,” Natalie said, closing the refrigerator door. She’d come a few hours early in order to help with the cooking. Liam, Marc and Mari were already there, watching football in the family room with the kids.
“No, that’s all right,” Colleen said breathlessly. “He’s my guest. I’ll get it.”
Natalie paused in mid-stride, her eyes going wide.
“I…I hadn’t realized. That’s wonderful.”
Colleen gave her a smile—albeit a nervous one—and headed toward the front door. Before she answered it, she hurriedly tossed off the flats she’d been wearing while she cooked and slid on the heels she’d brought.
He stood on the front porch, looking very handsome in a dark blue overcoat, a starkly white shirt and a conservative black, white and burgundy print silk tie showing above the collar of his coat. In one gloved hand he held a bottle of wine, and in the other he carried a large basket wrapped in plastic. It was tied very artfully in an elaborate bow, making it seem especially frilly given the virile, broad-shouldered man who held it.
She smiled, and he returned it.
“Come in,” she said. “You’re right on time.”
“I wouldn’t dare to be late my first time to the Kavanaugh house,” he said, glancing at her appreciatively. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she replied lightly, even though she was stirred by the earnestness of his tone. She held out her hands for the basket and wine so he could remove his coat. “You came bearing gifts.”
“Didn’t think it could hurt,” he admitted. “There was a time when I was the last person in town your mother would have invited for dinner.”
“Well, things change,” she said, balancing the enormous basket on her hip.
“Good,” Eric growled softly before he kissed her, taking Colleen by surprise.
Pleasant surprise.
/>
His lips were cool on the surface from the chilly November night, but she felt his heat underneath. He smelled like soap and spice—even more delicious than the scents wafting from the kitchen.
She blinked dazedly when he raised his head a moment later. His smile was a little devilish as he fleetly unbuttoned his overcoat.
“Thought I better get that in before family descended,” he said, his tone hushed in deference to the sounds of conversing voices, the sports commentary on the football game, excited yelps coming from her niece, Riley, and rattling pans in the distance.
She started to chastise him out of old habit, but caught herself. “Good idea,” she said instead. She ceded the large basket to him when he’d hung his coat on the coat rack and his hands were free. “This is absolutely gorgeous,” she said, referring to the elaborate basket filled with scrumptious-looking bakery items. “Did you order it from Sultan’s?”
“I did. I wanted to look good.”
Her glance ran over his tall, fit form garbed in an immaculately cut gray suit, not bothering to hide her admiration. “I have to say, you do a pretty good job of making yourself look good without any help, Dr. Reyes.”
His playful expression hardened. Mirth gleamed in his eyes, but so did elemental male desire. A thrill went through her at the sight of it.
“Is that a compliment? From Colleen Kavanaugh?”
She hitched her chin toward the hallway and grinned over her shoulder.
“I do believe it was.”
Their opening exchange set a good tone for the rest of the evening. Colleen’s nervousness faded when she saw how comfortable both Eric and Natalie seemed at dinner, how every member of her family welcomed the Reyeses. She hadn’t quite realized until they sat down for the Thanksgiving feast how integral Eric had become during the past month or so. Everyone had questions for Marc about his big decision to run for the U.S. senate. After that, the topic of conversation turned to Natalie and Liam’s wedding. Eric fit right in to the homey family discussion.
