by Debbie Mason
“Because I’d have to tell them I’ve lost everything. My wife, my home, and my professional reputation.”
“Pride goeth before a fall.” Caine Elliot’s movements were contained as he went to take his leave, yet she sensed his barely leashed power beneath the polished facade. He’d own any situation, any room he entered. She didn’t know what had possessed her grandson to make…Ah, but she did know, didn’t she? Desperation, guilt, shame, that’s why he’d made a bargain with the devil. It was as clear as day. As clear as his play for Maura. He envied his brother. Sean had everything Daniel wanted: success, wealth, respect, and the love of his children.
It was nothing new. Daniel had always wanted what Sean had. They were born eleven months apart and had waged a continuous battle for their parents’ attention almost from the womb. Colin, the youngest son and the peacemaker, had escaped their jealousy and fights.
“Wait, please. Give me another chance.”
“I’ll cover your expenses until the end of the campaign, Daniel. Nothing more.” Caine went to duck beneath the low opening, then stopped and glanced back. “You let your emotions, your jealousy, get the better of you. If you hadn’t alienated your brother and his sons by making a move on his wife, they would have supported you. You would have presented a united front to the town. And because you’re right and your family’s name does carry weight in this town, you would have won.”
Daniel stared after him. Colleen could practically hear the wheels turning in her grandson’s head. And if his mind went where hers had, they were in bigger trouble than before.
“That’s it,” Daniel whispered, and then went to chase the devil down.
Colleen followed close behind, praying she was wrong.
“Hold up.” He grabbed Caine’s cape, taking a step back and holding up both hands when the bigger man whipped around. “Sorry. It’s just that I have a plan. I promise, it’ll work.”
“I’m listening.”
Colleen wondered at the younger man’s self-possession. He had to be almost half Daniel’s age, yet no one would know it from his demeanor.
“You know how Old Lady Fairchild started the write-in campaign for her granddaughter? I’ll do the same.”
“It won’t work. People identified with Helen. They were sympathetic to her plight. And just a thought—you might want to stop calling her Old Lady Fairchild.”
“Right, but you didn’t let me finish. I’ll fake a heart attack, and I’ll beg my nephew Connor to take my place. I have an in on the town council. Actually, two for sure, with a possible third. I’m sure we can find a way around the election rules. They’ll let him take my place. If they don’t, my brother will make it happen. There’s nothing he wants more than to have one of his sons fill his shoes. Maura even more so than him.”
“You’re grasping, Daniel. Your nephew will never take your place. As I understand it, he’s in a relationship with Arianna Bell.”
Colleen wished the devil were right, but he wasn’t. Daniel knew it. Just like he knew he’d twigged Caine’s interest.
“Yes, he will. My nephew is the middle son, and for whatever reason, my brother and sister-in-law overlooked him in their bid for Sean’s successor. They shouldn’t have. He wants it. His brothers don’t. As far as Arianna goes, he knows she’s in the race only for her grandmother’s sake, but it’s too late to get her out of it now. Unless he runs. Then she has an excuse to bow out gracefully, and he can give her grandmother some work at the town hall to keep her busy. Everybody’s happy.”
“I’m still not sure that it’s enough.”
“Don’t you worry. It will be. I’ve told Maura I’ll hire her as my personal assistant if I become mayor. I’ll tell Connor he’s the only one I trust to take my place. If he won’t do it, I’ll just have to run. That alone will be incentive enough. Those boys want their parents back together. They’ll see this as a way to do that.” He shifted in his boots. “So, are we good? Agreement’s back on?”
“If your nephew wins and you ensure he clears the way for my developments, then yes, I’ll honor our deal.”
“Great. That’s great, Caine. Thank you.” They shook hands.
“I suggest you move ahead with your plan sooner rather than later, Daniel. The election is six days away.”
“Funny you should mention it. I’m not feeling so well.”
“You’d be feeling a lot worse if you could see me, boyo,” Colleen said, and strode through him, wondering what she could do to stop this. At that moment, all she could think was to get Connor and Arianna away from the manor and hopefully buy herself some time.
Daniel shuddered. “Whoa, that was weird. It felt like someone walked over my grave.”
Chapter Thirteen
You should have let me call a cab like I wanted to, Connor. It’s your brother’s wedding,” Arianna said from the passenger side of the Porsche. She was sitting on towels so as not to ruin the leather upholstery. “It was bad enough I made a fool of myself overturning a tray of drinks. Now your family will be upset with me for dragging you from the party.”
He took his eyes off the road to glance her way. “Are you done feeling sorry for yourself?”
“I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I feel like an idiot. I still can’t believe I did it. I can’t even remember bumping the tray.” She looked down at the grape-colored splotch that marred the front of the beautiful costume Jenna had rented for her. “I don’t know if I can get the stain out.”
“If you can’t, you can’t. I’ll cover the cost of the costume,” he said as he turned slowly onto her street, keeping an eye out for older trick-or-treaters.
Carved pumpkins glowed from the neighbors’ front porches. Their house was the only one on the street not decorated for the holiday. The campaign had taken its toll on both of them. Glamma had been too tired to come to the manor tonight, for which Arianna was secretly glad. She’d been worried about what she’d say to Daniel. Arianna had been a little leery about going herself. Only she’d thought it would be her interaction with Daniel that would be the problem, not her clumsiness.
She drew her gaze from the skeleton hanging on the neighbor’s tree to look at Connor. “Of course it’s easy for you to be blasé about it. You’re not the one who made a fool of himself. And I don’t need you to cover the cost of the costume, thanks. I have money.” The insurance settlement hadn’t come in yet, but Connor had managed to get them a decent advance.
He pulled alongside the curb in front of their house and turned off the engine before shifting in the seat. He reached out and gently twisted a strand of her hair around his finger. “You’re beautiful. When you walked into the ballroom tonight, I’m pretty sure my heart stopped. And just when it started beating again and I’d recovered enough to trust my legs to go get you, Olaf beat me to it. Old Man O’Malley is lucky he’s cute and about half my size or I might have kicked his snowman’s ass.”
She snorted a laugh, which didn’t sound nearly as cynical as she’d intended. Probably because he’d called her beautiful and meant it. She could tell by the warmth in his eyes that he did. It also didn’t hurt that he’d looked seriously gorgeous and sexy tonight playing his sax onstage, and she was still feeling a little like a girl who’d left the concert with the lead in a boy band. If she hadn’t ruined the evening, she had a sneaking suspicion their date wouldn’t have ended with just a kiss at the door. She took a page from his blasé book. “I’m sure. And I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work.”
“You need to channel Elsa and let it go, babe.” He grinned and got out of the car, humming the song as he came around to her side. He opened the door and reached across her to undo her seat belt, turning his head to lightly touch his mouth to hers before backing out. “People barely noticed when the tray fell. They were too busy listening to me kill ‘I Will Always Love You.’”
She laughed, a real laugh this time. The man was ridiculously self-confident, and it was just one of the many things she loved about…Her laugh
ter got stuck in her throat, and she stared up at the familiar and gorgeous face of the man she apparently loved. Not just a man she liked, felt comfortable with, leaned on, desired, but a man she Loved with a capital L. She didn’t know why she was surprised. Less than an hour before, her sister had told her they were meant to be. Arianna had tried to play it cool, but inside she’d been ridiculously happy and hopeful.
Two emotions she hadn’t felt in a very long time, well before the Nightmare on Main Street. But within seconds she tucked the feelings away, afraid to let herself hope, afraid to let herself feel, afraid to open herself up to more pain. It felt like by acknowledging her feelings for him, if only to herself, she’d crossed an invisible line and couldn’t go back.
“Where did you just go?” he asked quietly, a note of concern in his voice.
Someplace scary. Really scary. She smiled and moved to get out of the car. “Back to the manor and Cinderella and Prince Charming’s dance. They looked happy, didn’t they?” she said, referring to her sister and Logan.
“They did. They are.” Connor slid an arm around her waist. “I don’t want to put a damper on the night, but how are you feeling about Jenna moving to DC?”
“I think I already put a damper on the night,” Arianna said wryly, pulling the sopping fabric from her stomach.
He opened the gate. “Honey, I promise, once we get you out of that dress, we can heat things right back up.”
Her brain and body both seemed on board with that plan, warming up at just the thought of him helping her out of the dress. “I, ah, thought you were going back to the manor,” she said. Her tongue felt thick and the words slightly garbled.
He stopped to take her purse. In the shadow of the dark house, she couldn’t see his eyes or read the expression on his face. “Do you want me to go back to the manor?”
He probably had no idea how difficult his question was for her to answer. How much he was asking of her. It was a huge risk, one she wasn’t sure she was willing to take. She’d no longer be able to pretend this wasn’t real, a romantic, intimate relationship and all the feelings and possibilities for hurt that came with it if they made love. “It’s your brother’s wedding. I didn’t think you had a choice.”
“Everyone always has a choice. Me. You.” He dug her key from her purse. “I can kiss you good night at the door, undo your zipper if you need me to, or I can come inside. If I come inside, I won’t be leaving until morning. Your choice.”
She leaned into him as he put the key in the lock. “Decide for me.”
“Not a good idea,” he said. “I made up my mind about us weeks ago. I’ve just been waiting for you to get on board.”
“It’s not that easy. Maybe it is for you, but it isn’t for me. I don’t have a good track record. If we don’t—”
He pressed his finger to her lips and then replaced it with his mouth. His kiss was soft and tender at first, as if he knew her heart was in fight-or-flight mode. He pulled her closer, and she went to warn him she’d ruin his tux but didn’t get a chance because his tongue slipped past her parted lips and the thinking part of her brain immediately shut down. All she could do now was feel. His hand at her waist holding her in place, his body heat, his desire, hers. The kiss deepened, and she clutched at his shoulder, straining against him, wanting more, needing more. She broke the kiss. “Come…come inside,” she said breathlessly.
He groaned and then lifted his head, his eyes heavy-lidded as he stared at her for a couple of beats. “We’re going to my place. We’ll grab—”
“I can’t leave Glamma alone all night. If you’re thinking we’ll…she’ll…She takes her hearing aid out to sleep.”
She’d barely stepped across the threshold when he had her back in his arms. The house was dark and quiet. He tossed her purse and keys on the entryway table, closed the door with his foot, then reached back to lock it.
Reluctantly, she stepped away from him. “I need to check on Glamma.”
He seemed just as reluctant to let her go, leaning in to kiss her again before doing so. “Do you want anything to eat, drink?”
She was tempted to say yes to stall. So much could go wrong; so much could go right. A bundle of nerves, she shook her head and went directly to her grandmother’s door. She leaned against it in an attempt to regain her composure.
“Are you okay?” he whispered, barely a foot away.
She pressed a finger to her lips, losing any chance of keeping her feelings from her grandmother when she turned to face him. The light they’d left on in the hall at night shone down on Connor, his white shirt damp from where she’d pressed against him, his desire clearly evident in his black pants.
He followed her gaze. “I’ll, ah, wait for you in your room.”
She touched her cheek. It was hot, and she imagined flushed. Fanning herself, she fought to keep her gaze off Connor opening her bedroom door. He glanced at her before he closed it behind him, mouthing, Hurry up. I’m dying.
It wasn’t a surprise he wanted her. He hadn’t tried to rush her, but he’d made it known in the way he touched her and looked at her. She wanted him too. She just had so much more to lose. She pressed her good hand to her stomach, wondering if he’d recognize the scar from the caesarean, wondering if she owed him the truth.
It wouldn’t make any difference. Their son was lost to them both. Like her, Connor would be tortured by the what ifs. They’d broken her in the beginning. Her heart hadn’t fully recovered. It never would. It would be better for Connor if he never knew what he’d lost. She wouldn’t unburden herself at his expense. Afraid Connor would come looking for her and read the guilt and turmoil on her face, she carefully opened her grandmother’s door.
Propped up on two pillows, Helen snored softly. Her bedside lamp was on, a book resting on top of the duvet. Arianna carefully picked it up so as not to disturb her. She smiled at the title, The Campaign Manager by Catherine Shaw, and placed it on the bedside table before turning off the light. Bending down, she kissed her grandmother’s cheek.
In many ways, the campaign had been good for Glamma, but it would soon be over. In six days, they’d either be winners or losers. Arianna still didn’t know which she’d prefer. Although, as her grandmother had recently pointed out, a steady income would be a blessing. At eighty-five thousand dollars a year, the mayor’s salary was nothing to sniff at. Even better, people would stop asking when she planned to rebuild Tie the Knot. But after today and the episode with the tray, the idea of losing held more appeal. She wasn’t prepared to deal with the attention or the demands of the job. Not yet.
She tiptoed out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her. Looking down the hall at her closed bedroom door, she wondered if she should have been a little louder and woken up her grandmother. Nerves and doubts threatened to overwhelm her. As though Connor sensed something was wrong, the door to her room creaked open. Down the length of the hall, his eyes met hers. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He hadn’t taken off his shirt. Part of her wished he had; part of her was glad he hadn’t.
“Change of heart?” he asked, his voice deep and sexy.
No. She didn’t think her heart would ever be swayed. It had loved him before, and it loved him now. Her mind was something else entirely. It listened to the voices her heart ignored, like the voice of experience, the voice of reason.
He pushed off the doorjamb and walked toward her. “It’s okay if you have. I’m not mad. But let’s get you out of that wet dress, okay? Your lips are turning blue.” His voice was low, calm, and steady. He wasn’t angry. Concerned, maybe.
She took the hand he held out to her. “My lips aren’t blue from the cold. They’re blue from the drink.”
“You sure? Maybe I should check,” he said as they reached her bedroom.
She dropped her gaze to his mouth and nodded. “I think you should.”
He pressed his lips to her mouth, a chaste kiss with no tongue or heat. She curved her arm around his n
eck. “You need to really kiss me to be able to tell,” she murmured against his lips, reaching out to push the bedroom door closed. He needed no more encouragement than that; nor did she. She arched her back, dragging him with her. He lifted his mouth from hers and then dipped his head to feather kisses along her collarbone, along the neckline of her dress.
Mesmerized at the feel of his warm mouth on her skin, she barely noticed that he’d removed her costume’s sheer overcoat and his fingers were now on the zipper at her back. Above their heavy breathing, she heard the sound of it sliding open. Slowly, inch by inch. Soon his hands would be on her. She ached with need, the desire to rip off her clothing and his building. Somehow the thought penetrated the erotic thoughts. Within seconds she’d be naked, exposed, vulnerable. She stretched out her arm, her fingers reaching the light switch. The room went dark. Connor’s head came up.
“I want to see you. I need to see you.” His voice rasped against her skin.
It was as much a sacrifice for her as it was for him. She was desperate to see him. “Not yet. Not tonight.”
“Okay,” he agreed, but she could tell it was a struggle for him not to argue. As good as he was, this was one argument he wouldn’t win. “Is there anything I need to know? Do I have to be careful?”
“Just of my arm.”
He didn’t ask if she wanted to remove the glove, and she was grateful. In the dark, she could pretend she was whole. His fingers caressed her skin as he lowered the dress from her shoulders, his mouth following the path lower and lower while his lips danced over her skin. She gasped and squirmed. He smiled against her thigh, then said, “Step out,” before kissing his way back up her body and starting all over again with her bra and then her panties.
Much later, boneless and sated, they lay entwined on her bed, breathing heavily. Her room was dark, but her eyes had adjusted enough to make out the angles and contours of his body. He was big and beautiful, and…She felt him stiffen and swear under his breath. “What’s wrong?”
