by Cara McKenna
“Jesus...you could’ve told me all this, you know. Before you went and bought a plane ticket.”
He grinned, cheeks dimpling. “What kind of shite grand gesture would that’ve made?”
A thousand thoughts flitted, opening and shutting Jamie’s mouth.
When she didn’t reply, he went on. “You know me enough to realize...I love understanding how things work. Please, give me this chance, to see if you and I can work. Please, Jamie.”
Please. It felt as though she’d never had a man beg her like this. Even Noel had never pleaded for her to join him, moving cross-country. No Please, come with me. Let’s see if this is for keeps. Instead she’d gotten, Why don’t you come with me? He’d wanted her to, of course, but he’d not laid his heart on the line for the chance. Maybe so they’d both know it was her choice to make...but still. Please. This man wanted to be with her in a way that defied dignity, or practicality, or logic. Or security. He’d defied his very plans for a chance to maybe fit into hers. She didn’t even know what to make of it.
But she knew her answer.
“Okay.”
His brows rose, hope all over his face. “Okay?”
She nodded, breaking into a smile. Breaking into a million shining pieces under this streetlight with him. “Yeah. Let’s see if this supposed to be something real.”
And all at once, it was real. His arms around her were solid. Strong. His cheek against hers was rough, his breath at her hairline warm. She felt some animal mechanism click into place against his body, felt herself rouse with the deepest recognition. And he was here. He was hers, for as long as it was meant to be. This thing she’d said goodbye to, missed and mourned...here it was, somehow. Right here against her.
“I want to take you home,” she whispered.
“I followed you across an ocean. It’s a pretty sure bet you’ve got me for a few more blocks.”
She stepped back. “My roommate’s waiting up for me, expecting cake and reality TV. Guess she’ll be surprised when I show up with a stray Irishman as well.”
He fell into step as she aimed them toward her neighborhood. “Did you mention me at all?”
“She’s the one I sent the photo to, that first night at the pub.”
“Ah. And she knows I was your hapless holiday conquest?”
“Oh, yes,” she said through a laugh. “You were so coerced.”
“What’ve you told her about me?”
“This and that.” Quite a lot. Just about everything. “She knows I was a mopey sad sack for two weeks after I got home, because of you. Saying goodbye to you. And she’s nursing her own recent breakup, so be gentle.”
“She’ll be in the best possible company, with two bartenders. If we’re good for nothing else, it’s drowning people’s sorrows.”
“True...” And a miracle she’d not drowned in her own these past few months.
They fell silent, words abandoned in favor of the sound of their shoes scuffing the sidewalk, the rush of the late-night traffic, of the wind shuttling leaves, of the city itself.
After a few blocks, she squeezed his hand, just to make it sure it was still real. He squeezed back.
“You’re here,” she said.
“I am.”
“For me.”
He stopped, then stepped in front of her to meet her gaze squarely. “For you. I’m in love with you.”
Her lips parted.
“I fell harder for you in a week and a half than I have for any girl I dated for ten times that long,” he said. “If this isn’t worth turning my life inside out for, I can’t imagine what is.”
“Connor—”
“I’ve been a lot of things in my life, but I’m not a fool. Not when something feels as big as this does.”
She couldn’t begin to form a coherent thought, so instead she took his face in her hands, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him. This mouth...so right. And the weight of his free hand at her waist, the flare of his breath on her skin. Everything she’d found in this man in the closing, damp days of spring—all of it still here, framed now in the dry chill of autumn.
She found those eyes as she settled back on her heels. So damn blue, despite the black sky above them.
“Welcome to Boston,” she said, breaking into a broad grin.
“Welcome to the smartest, most reckless decision of my life,” he countered.
“You won’t regret it.” She knew that with more certainty than she’d felt in years. With a natural and implicit trust, just as she felt when she’d let this stranger take her to bed, thousands of miles from here.
“It’s cold,” he said, rubbing her arm through her jacket.
“It is.”
“So take me home, Jamie.”
And with his fingers twined in hers, she did exactly that.
* * * * *
About the Author
Before becoming a writer, Cara McKenna worked as a record store snob, a lousy barista, a decent designer and an overenthusiastic penguin handler. Now she loves writing sexy, character-driven stories about strong-willed men and women who keep each other on their toes...and bring one another to their knees. Cara lives north of Boston with her husband. When she’s not trapped in her own head she can be found in the kitchen, the coffee shop or jogging around the nearest duck-filled pond.
You can learn more at www.caramckenna.com.
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ISBN-13: 9781460328248
HER BEST LAID PLANS
Copyright © 2014 by Cara McKenna
Cover image: Chris Craymer, Trunk Archive
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