The ceremony was soon over, and Matt heaved a sigh of relief. Nothing like a wedding to remind him of his own shortcomings in the husband department. In failing Karen, he’d failed himself.
He and Karen had once been as much in love as Lanni and Charles. In fact, he’d still loved her when she left him and filed for divorce. And despite everything, he loved her now.
His jaw tightened as he remembered the night he’d come home to find she’d packed her bags and moved out—and then had him served with divorce papers. It rankled to this day that she hadn’t so much as talked to him first.
He’d asked her about that once, and she’d shrugged as if it was of little concern. She had warned him, she’d said. Besides, he’d never talked to her about quitting his jobs. Now it was his turn to see how it felt.
In all these months his bitterness hadn’t faded. It would be best if they didn’t talk to each other, Matt decided. Nothing would be served by dredging up the past, especially when that was all they had to discuss.
Music crescendoed, filling the church as Lanni and Charles turned to greet their guests. His sister’s face radiated happiness. Arm in arm, the couple strolled down the aisle.
Karen followed with Sawyer O’Halloran, one of Charles’s younger brothers. It didn’t escape Matt’s notice that his ex-wife did everything humanly possible not to look in his direction.
So she didn’t want any eye contact? Well, he wasn’t too keen on it himself. This whole affair was difficult enough without their having to confront each other. He’d managed to get through the wedding; now all he needed to do was survive the reception. That shouldn’t be so difficult.
It took Matt all of ten minutes to retract those words.
He delayed going to the school gymnasium, where the reception was being held, as long as he could. By the time he arrived, the music had started and a half-dozen couples were already in the area cleared for dancing.
The first person Matt saw was Karen—dancing with Duke Porter, one of the pilots for Midnight Sons, the Arctic flight service owned and run by the O’Hallorans. The sight of another man with his arms around Karen made Matt so damn mad he walked directly over to the bar and downed a glass of champagne. He knew that getting drunk wouldn’t serve any useful purpose, but it might help cut the pain—or so he told himself. This probably wasn’t the first time a man had held her since their divorce, but it was the only time he’d been around to witness. He didn’t like the experience one bit.
“Where were you?” The question came from his mother, Kate. “I was beginning to get worried.”
“I’m fine.” It was another moment or two before he could force himself to stop looking at Karen and Duke. “I, uh, was making sure everything was ready at the lodge.”
“Your aunt Louise is looking for you.”
Matt didn’t bother to disguise a groan. “Mother, please, anyone but Aunt Louise.” The first thing his meddling aunt would do was quiz him about his divorce. Matt figured he’d need more than one glass of champagne if he was going to be trapped in a conversation with his father’s oldest sister. He doubted an entire bottle would fortify him for Aunt Louise and her shamelessly prying questions.
His rescue came from the most unlikely source. Chrissie Harris, eight-year-old daughter of Mitch, the town’s public safety officer.
“Will you dance with me?” the child pleaded, widening her dark, seal-pup eyes.
“Sure thing, kiddo.” He grinned. The kid’s timing couldn’t have been better.
“Dad’s dancing with Bethany,” Chrissie explained, sounding a little disappointed. “Dad and Bethany are getting married this summer.”
Great, another wedding. “I know.”
“I think Scott would like to ask me, but he’s afraid.” Scott was Sawyer O’Halloran’s adopted ten-year-old son—one of his wife’s two children by a previous marriage.
Matt held out his arms. “Well, we can’t let the prettiest girl here be a wallflower,” he said. Mitch’s daughter slipped off her patent-leather Mary Janes and stepped onto the tops of his shoes. He waltzed her from one end of the dance floor to the other. For a whole minute, perhaps longer, he was able to enjoy the dance without thinking of Karen.
However, his pleasure was short-lived. The next time he happened to catch sight of her, Karen was with Christian O’Halloran, Charles and Sawyer’s younger brother. At the end of the dance, Matt thanked Chrissie and refilled his glass.
The second glass of champagne gave him enough courage to approach his ex-wife. It was ridiculous to pretend they weren’t aware of each other.
Karen was sitting, no doubt for the first time since the music had started. He picked up two full champagne glasses and walked over to her. Although she wasn’t looking in his direction, she knew he was coming. Matt could tell by the way her body stiffened.
“Hello, Karen,” he said evenly.
“Matt.”
He handed her one of the glasses and took the empty seat beside her. “You look like you could use a drink.”
“Thanks.”
Neither seemed to have anything more to say. Matt struggled to find some safe, neutral topic.
“How’s California?” he finally asked.
She stared into the champagne as if she expected to see her response written in the bottom of the glass. “Wonderful.”
“You look good.” It was best to begin with a compliment, he figured; besides, it was the truth. She looked fantastic.
“You, too.”
It was nice of her to lie. He’d lost fifteen pounds because he’d been working his butt off for months. He rarely got enough sleep and wasn’t eating properly.
She took a sip of champagne, then asked, “Why’d you mail me a valentine card?” He thought her voice shook ever so slightly.
He’d regretted sending that stupid thing the moment he slipped it in the mailbox. If there’d been a way to retrieve it, he would have.
“We were married for four years,” she said, “and not once in all that time did you buy me a card.”
He didn’t have an argument, so he said nothing.
“You claimed cards were silly commercial sentiments, remember?”
He wasn’t likely to forget.
“Why this year?” she demanded, and the tremble in her voice was more apparent than ever.
“Maybe I was trying to make up for the years I didn’t give you one.” It wasn’t much of an explanation, but the only one he had to offer. When he hadn’t heard back from her—not that he’d expected to—Matt knew she hadn’t appreciated the gesture.
“Don’t mail me any more…sentiments, Matt. It’s too little and it’s much too late.”
He frowned. “Fine, I won’t.”
They both stood up, eager to escape each other. Unfortunately they came face to face with his aunt Louise. Karen looked to Matt to rescue her, but he was fresh out of ideas.
“Dance, you two.”
Aunt Louise issued the order like a drill sergeant. The woman always did enjoy meddling in other people’s affairs. It was either obey her dictates or be trapped in a thirty-minute question-and-answer ordeal.
Karen glanced at Matt; he shrugged. “Shall we?” he asked, motioning toward the dance floor. Judging by the look she gave him, Karen had weighed her choices and decided that dancing with him was the lesser of two evils.
Matt had often observed that when one thing went wrong, others were sure to follow. The music, which to this point had been fast and lively, abruptly changed to something slow and soft. Matt couldn’t avoid touching Karen, nor could he avoid holding her close.
He slipped his arm around her waist and she held herself stiffly in his embrace. Matt did his utmost to concentrate on the music and not on the woman in his arms.
He could feel her reluctance with every step.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered, “I promise not to bite.”
“Your bites don’t worry me.”
“What does?” he asked.
“Every
thing else.”
He smiled to himself and unconsciously moved his head closer to hers until his jaw pressed against her temple. Matt never had been light on his feet, but when he danced with Karen he somehow managed to look as though he knew what he was doing. It was as though they were born partners.
Neither spoke for the rest of the dance. The second the music stopped he released her and stepped back. The ache in his chest intensified, and he wondered how much longer he’d have to stay at the reception. He didn’t want to slight his sister and brother-in-law, but being with Karen was pure agony. Pretending he didn’t still love her was becoming impossible.
“Lanni and Charles are getting ready to leave,” Karen said quickly. He sensed that she felt as awkward as he did. “I’d better see if she needs my help.”
“Thanks for the dance.”
Her eyes briefly met his and filled with an unmistakable sadness. “It was good to see you again, Matt,” she mumbled, then hurried away.
Much as he longed to escape, Matt observed the proprieties—he kissed his sister and shook hands with Charles. They were honeymooning in the Virgin Islands for two weeks. He wished them a great trip, made the rounds to say his farewells and returned to the lodge.
Because he felt about as low as he ever had since his divorce, he brought out a dusty bottle of whiskey and poured himself a stiff drink. He didn’t drink a lot, but there were times when little else would do.
This was one of those times.
He sat on the leather sofa in front of the massive stone fireplace, his feet propped up on the raised hearth. He held the glass in one hand and the bottle in the other.
Soon his guests began to arrive. His parents came in first. It had been a long, exhausting day, and after a few words of greeting, they wandered up the stairs. The two bridesmaids followed and then another couple, married friends of Lanni’s.
Karen was the last to show up. Matt didn’t ask who’d escorted her to the lodge. Probably Duke, but he didn’t want to hear that.
She paused in the large hall and looked around. Plenty of work remained to be done, but it was a pleasant, inviting room. Besides the sofa, Matt had set a couple of big overstuffed chairs close to the fireplace. The other half of the room was set up with hardwood tables and chairs.
“This is very nice,” Karen said, sounding surprised.
“Thanks.” He’d worked hard, getting this place in presentable shape. For just a moment he wondered what she’d thought when she heard he’d purchased the lodge. Years before, a fire had destroyed much of the kitchen, plus a number of rooms upstairs.
After the fire, the O’Hallorans had boarded up the place, unable to decide what to do with it. So the lodge had sat vacant and deteriorating for years. None of the brothers was interested in running a tourist business, and repairs would’ve been costly and time-consuming.
“Your room’s at the top of the stairs. The farthest one down on the left-hand side.” He gestured with the shot glass, afraid that if he stood, he might fall over.
“You’ve been drinking.” Karen moved closer to the fireplace.
“Nothing gets past you, does it?” he muttered sarcastically.
“You hardly ever drink.” The problem was, she knew him too well.
“That’s true, but sometimes the occasion calls for it.” He raised his glass to her with a sardonic smile and gulped down the last of the whiskey. It burned its way down his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his teeth and shook his head like a wet dog.
When he opened his eyes Karen sat on the other end of the sofa. “What’s wrong?” she asked—as if she didn’t know.
“Nothing,” he answered cheerfully. “What could possibly be wrong?”
She didn’t make the obvious reply. “I think I must’ve had a little more to drink than usual myself.” Her eyes seemed unnaturally bright.
She got up and headed toward the stairs, and Matt realized he didn’t want her to leave. “Do you want to see what I’ve spent the last few months doing?” he asked.
“Sure.” Her eager response surprised him.
He gave her a quick tour of the downstairs area, pointing out the renovations as he did. He was pleased with them and didn’t conceal his pride. “The kitchen should be ready soon,” he explained when he’d finished showing her around. “The stove’s what’s holding me up, but I expect delivery in the next month or so.”
“Who’s going to do the cooking?” she asked.
“Right now, me.” Matt shrugged. “I don’t have the budget to hire anyone else. At least not yet. I need to bring in paying guests first.”
“Well, you’re certainly qualified to cook.”
She was referring to his stint as a chef. He’d enjoyed cooking school well enough, but had lost interest during his first restaurant job. He’d gone on to commercial fishing shortly after that, abandoning his sketchy plans to open a restaurant of his own.
“I wish you the very best with this venture, Matt.”
“Thanks.” He knew he sounded flippant.
“I mean that,” she insisted.
He’d probably offended her, and he hadn’t meant to. “But you don’t believe it’ll last, do you?”
“No.” She didn’t so much as hesitate. “You’ll get bored with the lodge just like you did with everything else.”
“Maybe.” He wasn’t going to argue with her. Time would prove her wrong. He’d worked harder on this than anything he’d done in his life. Now, finally, he had something that was entirely his. The business would sink or succeed by his own efforts, no one else’s.
“I’ll show you to your room,” he said without emotion, then led her to the staircase.
He hadn’t gone more than a few steps when she stopped him. “Matt.” His arm tingled where her fingers touched him. “I apologize—I didn’t mean to discourage you. I can tell you’ve put a lot of thought and effort into this lodge. I hope it succeeds. I really do.”
He turned to face her. “Do you, Karen?”
Her eyes had never been more intent. In them he found a reflection of the loneliness he’d felt these past eighteen months. He hadn’t wanted to admit, even to himself, how much he’d missed her. For months he’d worked himself into a state of exhaustion, rather than face a night without her.
This evening, for the first time since their divorce, he was forced to admit how good it was to hold her. He couldn’t deny how empty his arms felt without her. How empty his life felt.
Her face was slightly flushed. She still wore the rose-colored dress.
“I’ve missed you, Karen.” She must know what it had cost him to admit that.
Her eyes drifted shut, and when she spoke her voice was so low the words were hardly discernible. “I’ve missed you, too.”
His breath caught in his throat, and Matt figured if he didn’t touch her soon he’d die. He raised his hand and cradled her cheek with his callused palm. She was so smooth, so soft.
Karen moistened her lips.
It was the invitation Matt had been waiting for. He drew her toward him, and to his surprise, to his delight, she came without resistance.
He was almost afraid to kiss her, fearing she’d pull away from him, fearing she’d throw the past in his face. Karen did neither. When she brought her arms up to circle his neck, Matt nearly shouted for joy.
He didn’t give her time to object. His kiss was raw with need. He’d intended to be gentle, to coax her, but it wasn’t what either of them wanted. He possessed her mouth. No other word described their kiss. His lips slanted over hers, twisting, seeking, urgent.
Controlling the kiss was beyond him. Matt didn’t know how long it went on. Too long. Much too long. When he did find the strength to ease his mouth from hers, they were both breathless.
He held her and waited for her to say something. Like telling him he shouldn’t have done that. Perhaps she expected an apology. If so, she wouldn’t be getting one.
He felt her shift, and afraid that she was about to mov
e out of his arms, he tightened his grip. She snuggled close to him, creating a new kind of torture. They’d been intimate too many years for him not to be affected by the sensation of her body against his.
When she ran her tongue along the underside of his jaw Matt finally stepped back. They stared at each other. Neither spoke, and he suspected it was because they each feared what the other would say. Her lips were moist and slightly swollen; her breath came in soft, disjointed gasps, as if she was struggling not to weep. His own was ragged and made a light hissing sound through his clenched teeth.
He kissed her again and this time forced himself to keep it slow and gentle. But when he ended the kiss the sensual impact had stripped him of all his painfully gathered control. He pulled her close against him.
“I never was much good at these games,” he said, his eyes holding hers.
“Games?”
“You know what I mean.”
She lowered her lashes and her face filled with color.
“Don’t expect me to silently lead you into my bedroom,” he said. “If we’re going to make love, I need to know you want me as much as I want you.”
Still she said nothing.
“What’s it going to be, Karen? You can share my bed or go upstairs alone.” The temptation to kiss her again was strong, but he resisted.
Tears brightened her eyes, and she bit her lower lip. “I don’t want to be alone,” she whispered.
He shook his head. “That’s not good enough. Tell me you want me.”
“Yes,” she said stiffly, “I want you, Matt. I’ve missed you.”
Chapter
2
Karen awoke with Matt’s arm securely tucked around her waist. In the carefree state between sleep and complete wakefulness, she reveled in the comfort of being held in her husband’s arms.
Husband.
It took her far longer than it should have to remember that he wasn’t her husband. Not anymore. Her eyes flew open as her brain started putting together the events of the night before.
Midnight Sons Volume 2 Page 17
