A Dad At Last

by Marie Ferrarella

  Desperate to feel him within her.

  He couldn’t hold back. Not a second longer. He took what precautions he could, then, braced over her, he joined his hands to Lacy’s, his eyes on hers as he slowly moved into her. He saw the flare of desire mingled with something akin to triumph. He felt the beating of her heart within his chest. Sealing his lips to hers, he began the dance that would bring the two of them to the mutual pleasure they sought at the summit’s crest.

  The tempo increased. He tasted his name on her lips as the muffled cry melted against his flesh. He whispered her name in his mind, softly, like a prayer.

  And when it was over, there were no regrets. There was only softness and peace as, spent, Connor held her in his arms.

  FLUSHED from her visit to Connor’s house, Megan breezed into her kitchen through the garage. It didn’t surprise her to see Harold looking as if he was waiting for her to make her entrance. The butler always seemed to materialize when he was needed. When she was a little girl, Abby used to think the man was magical. At times, Megan was inclined to believe that.

  “I won’t be needing anything tonight, Harold, I had a marvelous dinner at Connor’s house.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The older man inclined his head. “But I fear there might be something Mr. Blake might need.”

  “Hugh?” Without thinking, she glanced at the telephone on the wall. Why was the lawyer calling? “What would he be needing?”

  “Your presence, ma’am. He’s waiting for you in the study. Been here since eight.” Anticipating her next steps, Harold moved out of Megan’s way without bothering to look. It was as if he knew what she would do next.

  “Thank you, Harold.” Leaving her purse for Harold to put away, Megan hurried from the room.

  Had she forgotten a meeting she’d scheduled with Hugh, or was this something unexpected? Although their business association extended beyond the usual client-lawyer relations, and although over the years they had become friends, Hugh didn’t usually make a habit of dropping by.

  Megan pushed open the study doors. “Hugh, what are you doing here?”

  Hugh Blake set down the empty glass he’d been debating filling and rose to his feet. He knew the gesture had fallen on hard times of late, chivalry being mostly out of fashion, but Megan Maitland deserved a little chivalry in his opinion, and he was more than happy to supply it.

  The smile on his face was genial. “Waiting for you.”

  Megan crossed to the fireplace. “That much is obvious, but why?”

  He didn’t give her the real reason, afraid that it might shred the fabric of the friendship that had taken years to weave. Instead, he nodded at the large manila envelope on the coffee table beside his empty glass and the cut-glass decanter Harold had left with him.

  “I had some contracts for your signature. A few securities maturing, needing a turnover, things like that. Your place was on my way home, so I thought I’d drop them off instead of asking you to come down to the office. Harold decided to ply me with Scotch. Damn near melted my bones, forcing me to stick around until the effects wore off.” He frowned, raising a brow as he looked at the decanter instead of at the woman who did more than merely melt his bones. “Need to be stone-cold sober on the roads. With my luck, some overzealous motorcycle jockey one third my age will be hiding behind a sign, itching to get me in his radar beam. I thought it was safer to just wait it out.”

  Enchanted, he watched her for a moment as she straightened a photograph on the mantel. “All right, I’ve told you what I’m doing here, now it’s your turn.”

  Her smile illuminated her eyes, the way it always did, he thought. “I live here, remember?”

  “I meant what you were doing with your evening. You walked in with cheeks that were flushed like a young girl’s.”

  She moved her hand vaguely around. “The night air’s still a bit sultry.”

  His brow rose a little higher. Was she seeing someone? he wondered. She’d been alone for so long. “You parked the car inside the garage, and unless the last hurricane has disengaged it from the house, you entered via the side door—which is completely enclosed.”

  Amusement deepened her smile. “I wasn’t aware that Sherlock Holmes was seeking a successor.” She’d known Hugh Blake most of her adult life, known him when his hair was the color of sun-kissed gold instead of silver. He’d been William’s lawyer when she’d met him. Over the years, he’d become her confidant as well as her lawyer. She felt she didn’t have a truer friend in the world. “I had dinner with Connor and Lacy.”

  Unconsciously, Hugh squared his broad shoulders. She’d trusted him with her secret long before she’d made her announcement. It had been a shock, though he hadn’t said anything. It had struck him at the time as amazing that he could know someone for so long and yet not truly know them at all. He’d struggled to picture the young girl, pregnant and abandoned by the man she loved, and had difficulty reconciling that to the woman he saw before him. What had intervened was a strong, steely band of jealousy he hadn’t realized he was capable of. Jealousy that there had been someone who had swept her off her feet so completely that she had surrendered herself to him without a qualm.

  But he had gotten his reaction under control swiftly, showing nothing but dependable understanding. It wasn’t his place to be anything else. He’d advised her to pick her time carefully before dropping her bombshell. The Maitland children were a good, decent lot, but they would need time to adjust. It surprised him how quickly they had all come to terms with this part of their mother’s past.

  Far better than he had, he mused. “What restaurant did you go to? The new one I suggested?” He’d made the suggestion, hoping to take her there himself, but at the last minute had changed his mind, not wanting to change the status quo between them.

  She shook her head. “The new ranch.”

  Feeling suddenly tired, Megan crossed to the sofa and sat down, patting the spot beside her as she turned her eyes to Hugh. He joined her.

  “You should see what Lacy’s done with the place. The girl is an absolute marvel. The sooner Connor comes around and realizes that, the happier they’ll both be.”

  She was matchmaking, he realized. It didn’t surprise him. He knew that Megan believed that she took a hands-off approach to her children’s lives whenever possible, but quite the opposite was true.

  He wasn’t in the mood to talk about Connor. His attention was focused elsewhere. On the years that had gone by, wasted. “And you?”

  She didn’t see the connection. “And me what?”

  He tried to ignore how close he was to her. How much he wanted to be even closer. He stayed inside his role as the reliable family friend and lawyer, even though there were times the role threatened to choke off his very air. “What would it take to make you happier?”

  She didn’t even pause to consider. There was no need. “I’m already happy. I have all my children, finally, around me. I have grandchildren, my work.”

  “I said happier, not happy.”

  His eyes touched hers, and for a moment, just a moment, something stirred within her. She told herself she was being absurd. What she was feeling was a product of fatigue. “If I were any happier, I might just become airborne.”

  He laughed softly. “Well, we wouldn’t want that to happen, now, would we?” Because they were old friends, because he had held her hand during crisis after crisis and been there for her when William had died, as she had been there for him when Elaine had passed on, Hugh leaned over and kissed her temple. Anything more would have been out of line. “I think the effects of this glass of Scotch have worn off. I’ll be by your office in a couple of days to pick those up.” He nodded at the manila envelope. “No hurry, really.”

  She didn’t understand. “Then why did you stop by?”

  Because, quite simply, he’d wanted to see her. Just to see her, to catch a whiff of the scent she always wore, nothing more. “I was feeling a little nostalgic. This is our fortieth anniversary. Well,
not ours, exactly, but it’s been forty years since I began working for the Maitlands.”

  “Forty years?” Such a long time. It should make her feel old. Yet oddly enough she felt very young tonight. Younger than usual. “Today?”

  He nodded. “Forty years. Today.”

  She rose to get another glass from the bar. “I’d say that deserves a toast.”

  He shifted in his seat, watching her. Enjoying the way it felt seeing her approach him. “If I have another glass, I’ll have to stay another half hour.” And then he smiled as he moved his glass toward the decanter. “Fill the glass, Megan.” He watched her pour a little of the Scotch into his glass, then her own. “Oh, by the way, you might be happy to hear that Janelle’s arraignment is coming up day after tomorrow.”

  The news caught her off guard. She set the decanter down. “Find out the time. I want to be there.”

  Megan never ceased to amaze him. Another woman would have avoided all contact with trash like Janelle Davis. “What in heaven’s name for, Megan? That she-devil put you through hell.”

  Megan took a deep breath. “Yes, she did. But that she-devil is also my niece. By marriage.”

  “You’re joking.” But he saw that she wasn’t. Hugh scowled. This was something he should have known. It wasn’t often he was caught by surprise professionally. “Are you sure?”

  Megan pressed her lips together. “Positive.”

  He wanted evidence. “How do you know?”

  “Jake found out through a fingerprint check, but he kept the news from me until after Chase was rescued. And Lacy did her own search. She took it upon herself to check it out for me. On Chelsea’s computer. I told you the girl was resourceful. I think Connor’s underestimating her.” She could see by the look in Hugh’s eyes that he had little interest in Connor’s thoughts at the moment. “Lacy traced birth and death certificates issued in Nevada.”

  “Nevada?”

  “That’s where Janelle’s from. Lacy is completely convinced that the information is authentic and that Janelle is my late brother-in-law Robert’s oldest daughter from his second marriage.” She picked up her glass.

  He did the same. More twists and turns. Hugh shook his head as he raised his glass. “No wonder you keep me around. Can’t identify the players without a scorecard of some sort. I’ll look into this further for you.”

  “No need. I have Max doing a little more research on that lost branch of the family.” She saw her answer disappointed Hugh. Laughing, Megan looked into his eyes. “And to address your last statement, Hugh, I ‘keep you around’ for a great many more reasons than just sorting out the players for me.” She raised her glass. “To another forty years.”

  “To another forty years,” he echoed, touching the rim of his glass to hers. For now, it was all he could ask for.

  CONNOR TOOK LACY not once, but three times that night. Each time he did, he waited for satisfaction to come, to blanket him and let his body relax. But it never came. Instead, each time an even deeper craving would possess him, driving him on until finally he catapulted over the edge of exhaustion. All he could manage was to cradle Lacy against him in his bed, praying she would find it in that beautiful heart of hers to forgive him someday.

  He wasn’t aware of the sigh that escaped his lips.

  She raised her head slightly to look at him. “What?”

  He smiled, surprised he had enough energy for even that. “You wear me out, Lacy.”

  He felt her hair brushing along his arm as she shifted, turning into him. “I was going to say the same thing about you.”

  His smile deepened, ripening in affection. There were different definitions of being worn out. “Yeah, but at your age—”

  He got no further. Raising herself up on her elbow, she pressed her finger to his lips.

  “Shh. We’re not going to bring that awful subject up. Age has nothing to do with it. Except maybe when it comes to experience.” She cocked her head, her smile warming him, her confidence exciting him. Was he losing his mind? He was on the brink of complete meltdown—how could he want her again? “And your experience was wonderful.”

  But he did want her.

  He could have devoured her. So exhausted that even drawing a breath was a chore, he still could have eaten her up whole. Raising his head, he caught her bottom lip in his mouth and sucked it just enough to see the sparks entering her eyes again.

  Now he’d done it, he thought.

  And he was glad.

  THE BED was empty when she woke sometime before dawn. The smile that had risen even in sleep disappeared from her lips as she felt the sheets. They were cool. He’d left the bed a while ago.

  The warm glow that had encased her body since last night faded into the darkness. With a sigh, she got out of bed and began slipping on the clothes that had been discarded in the heat of passion.

  Lacy shivered.

  Well, what had she expected? She knew this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. There was no way she could change Connor O’Hara. He was what he was. Confusing, but honorable for all that.

  She both respected and damned him for it.

  Dressed, she reminded herself that she had a little boy who needed her. It helped fill in the gaping holes. But not completely.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SHE HADN’T EXPECTED to feel anything.

  Especially not this strange, pervading sadness. Janelle especially hadn’t thought she’d feel this way about Petey.

  But she did.

  When the dust had settled, when it had become clear that the plan she had been nurturing more carefully than most mothers nurtured their firstborn was disintegrating before her eyes, Janelle’s immediate reaction had been anger. She’d screamed like a banshee, hurling obscenities at the men who had surrounded them and snatched victory out of her well-manicured fingers.

  Petey’s being shot after he’d fired at the men had only registered on the distant fringes of her mind. Hardly worth notice. Even later, when she was told that he was dead, his death was just a part of the whole, a troublesome detail, at best.

  But as she lay in her cell at night, watching the shadows recede and extend in some mysterious, eternal game of tag, it had come to her. Penetrated her consciousness, then the barricaded walls of her inner self.

  Petey was dead.

  His had been a pitiful life, an expendable life, of little or no consequence to anyone but Petey, she supposed. But he had loved her in his own way and done as she’d asked, allowing himself to be manipulated. Manipulated to death.

  His death bothered her. And gradually, gnawing away at the layers with which she’d learned, from an early age, to insulate herself from the rest of the world, it came to upset her. So much so that it began to prey on her mind, haunting her.

  As she entered the courtroom, buffered by two formidable prison matrons, Janelle’s eyes quickly took account of the people seated in the rows behind the gate that separated the accused from the accusers, searching for her husband’s murderers. Never mind that only one had pulled the trigger, they were all responsible, damn them.

  Especially that mealymouthed poor excuse for a woman, Lacy Clark.

  Looking at the sea of faces, Janelle found her. Her eyes locked with Lacy’s.

  She swore to herself on the grave she hadn’t been able to look at with her own eyes, her husband’s grave, that she was going to find a way to avenge his death if it was the last thing she ever did.

  She was going to get Lacy.

  JANELLE’S EYES were burning holes into her.

  It seemed like a stupid thing to feel, and yet Lacy couldn’t describe it any other way. She shifted slightly, as if to find a hiding place from the heat without seeming to give Janelle the upper hand. She wasn’t afraid of the other woman anymore.

  Raising her chin, Lacy met Janelle’s gaze head on, knowing that to do anything less would be cowardly. Worse, it would let Janelle believe she still had power over Lacy. She didn’t. Those days were long gone. Along with the f
rightened, foolish girl she’d been, thinking that Janelle was her only friend when all along Janelle had been her only enemy. Plotting to steal her baby so she would have some sort of hold over the Maitlands.

  As if a baby could be used for something so awful. If she’d had any doubts about her condemnation of Janelle, they were wiped away when she realized the woman was not above using an innocent infant for her own gain. Janelle had kidnapped Chase; she had tried to steal him not once, but twice.

  The woman needed to be put away where she could never hurt Chase again. And Lacy intended to do whatever it took to see that it happened.

  “If you want to leave, just say the word.” Connor leaned over and whispered in her ear.

  Lacy didn’t look at him, afraid he might see the remnants of weakness in her eyes. Afraid he might see other things, as well. She slowly moved her head from side to side, indicating that there was no need to go. On the contrary, she was determined to stay to see this phase through, just as she was determined to see every phase through until the prison door finally slammed shut on Janelle.

  She clasped her hands in her lap, holding tightly onto herself. The one person she knew she could always count on, no matter what.

  In a way, Lacy was still rather surprised that Connor had volunteered to bring her to the courtroom. They had exchanged very few words since the night before last. She’d tried to pretend nothing had happened, knowing he preferred it that way. Knowing that for him, perhaps nothing had. It was only for her that the earth had moved a little, tilted on its axis and sent her spinning into the stratosphere.

  But she’d come to terms with that. If she was guilty of hanging onto a small hope that somehow she could make him want her so much that all the other barriers would forever melt away, she’d certainly known better in the morning when she’d found him gone, not just from his bed but from the ranch, as well. The foremen he’d hired had said he was away for the day on business.