Conor

by Kate Hoffmann

  Until that moment, staring into Ford’s eyes, he hadn’t recognized his feelings for Olivia, hadn’t believed they could have a future together. But now he knew. He was in love with Olivia Farrell. He’d known her for three days and already he knew he wanted them to spend a lifetime together.

  But it wasn’t as easy as it all looked. Even if he wanted Olivia in his future, he didn’t know if he even had a future to offer her. Hell, he wasn’t sure how this would all turn out. Even if Ford made the deal, Conor was still facing some pretty serious accusations, so serious that they could cost him his job. And without a job, how could he possibly plan a future for them?

  “Quinn!”

  Conor spun around. Danny Wright was jogging down the sidewalk toward him. He waited for his partner, then pointed down the street where he’d parked his car.

  “What are you doing here?” Danny asked, breathless.

  “I was visiting Kevin Ford,” Conor admitted.

  Danny stopped short on the sidewalk and shook his head in disbelief. “You talked to Ford? Aw, man, this is bad. I don’t mean to question your procedures, but everyone at the station is talking. First, you disappear with a witness-a beautiful, female witness-and now, you’re sneaking around, talking to the perp.”

  Conor chuckled at Danny’s police slang. “How’d you know I was here?”

  “Mullaney called me at the station house. He told me to come down here and pick up my stuff. It took a while, but I figured that he meant you.”

  “Well, talk all you want,” Conor said. “Because right now I’m not listening. I’ve got other things on my mind.” Olivia. He had Olivia on his mind and all the things he had to do to make this work for them both.

  Conor turned to Danny. “Keenan has a guy on the inside. That’s how they keep getting to us. And Kevin Ford knows who he is. I told Ford you’d be visiting him. I want you to find out all you can, then take it to Internal Affairs. They’ll offer Ford a deal in exchange for the dirty cops. And Olivia won’t have to testify.”

  Danny frowned. “But what if-”

  “Just do it,” Conor said. “And watch your back.”

  Danny nodded, then Conor slapped him on the shoulder and smiled. “You’re a damn good detective, Wright.” A smile broke across his partner’s face and Conor took that as his cue to leave. He grabbed the car door, pulled it open, then hopped inside. And as he drove off down the street, he let out a tightly held breath.

  “This has to work,” he murmured to himself. It was the only way he could be sure that Olivia stayed safe for the rest of her life. And right now the only thing in the world he cared for-the only thing that made any difference in his life at all-was Olivia Farrell.

  As for their future together, he’d have to think about that later. “One step at a time,” he said softly.

  7

  SHE’D BEEN CAUGHT in the middle of a wonderful dream. Everything was so warm and comfortable, the sun, the water, like a little Jamaican vacation in her sleep. Olivia smiled and snuggled down beneath the quilt she’d pulled from the bed. The television glowed in the darkened living room, a travel show softly playing in the background.

  For a long time, she drifted in and out of the dream, spinning images in her brain of her and Conor, lying on the sand, swimming naked in the ocean, making love in a hammock. After this was all over and she was safe again, maybe she’d ask him to take a little vacation. She had some money saved and she probably wouldn’t have to worry about her business since there wouldn’t be much left to worry about.

  It would be fun, a chance to really get to know each other. She turned the notion around and around in her mind. But before she’d imagined the most perfect vacation with the perfect man, she heard the sound of the door opening. Olivia opened her eyes, then pushed up on her elbow and watched Conor slip into the condo. He’d been gone for most of the day and into the evening and, though she really hadn’t worried about him, she was curious about what had occupied his time.

  In truth, she was also a bit jealous that he could go out and walk around without worrying about his safety and she was stuck inside for the entire day playing the responsible witness. So she’d made the best of the situation and spent a lazy hour in the bathtub. After that, she lounged around the condo, watching soap operas and painting her toenails.

  “You’re home,” she murmured, running her fingers through her tangled hair.

  Startled, Conor turned and peered into the dim living room. Then he shrugged out of his jacket, tossed it on a chair and slowly walked over to her. “Were you sleeping?” he asked.

  Olivia smiled and stretched her arms over her head. “I’ve been a lazybones all day long. It felt good to finally relax. We’ve been kind of busy lately.”

  He sank down on the end of the sofa, far enough away from her that she couldn’t give him the hug she wanted to. In truth, he didn’t seem in a very huggable mood. He tipped his head back and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Yeah, we have. It takes a lot of energy to dodge those bullets.”

  Olivia scrambled to her knees, reminded again of his injury. She settled beside him. “How are you feeling? Does your side hurt?”

  Conor winced as he shifted his weight. “It’s not bad. Most times I don’t notice it.”

  “Why don’t you let me get you some dinner?” she said, crawling off the couch. She picked up his feet from the floor and swung them around. “You stretch out and rest. I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.”

  He groaned, then rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t get any groceries. I’m sorry. I had to take care of some police business and then I met Danny and I talked with him. Then I stopped over at Dylan’s place. I just lost track of time.”

  He made to get up, but she gently pushed him back down. “We don’t need groceries,” she said. “We have neighbors. Sadie from across the stairs brought us a tuna noodle casserole and an apple pie. Louise from downstairs, who is married to a retired Navy man, brought us a taco casserole and a fruit salad. And Geraldine, who used to be a Rockette, brought us a little honeymoon basket with candles and champagne and some chocolate. There are cookies from Doris-she’s so funny-and some fresh lemonade from Ruth Ann who looks a little like my landlady. And we’re invited to join the canasta club on Tuesday, the bocci ball couples’ tournament on Saturday, and the potluck supper on Sunday night.”

  “I see you’ve been as busy as I was,” Conor murmured.

  Olivia sighed. “We’ve lived here one day and I already know five of my neighbors. I’ve lived in my flat on St. Botolph Street for six years and I know two people-the woman who rents the downstairs apartment and my landlady who lives down the street.”

  “Don’t get too used to it,” Conor muttered. “We won’t be staying forever.”

  His tone had an edge to it that she’d never heard, not even when he was ordering her around. She tried to read his mood. So often over the past few days, he’d let his guard down. It just surprised her when those barriers suddenly appeared again, in the tone of his voice or in an impatient sigh. She didn’t need to be reminded that they’d only be together a finite time. She reminded herself of that same thing every day-every time she looked into his eyes or touched him, every time she remembered their time together on the boat.

  But Olivia had already decided that she wouldn’t think about the future, even if that future was only a week away. She wanted to live for the moment, to enjoy Conor while she had him, for she knew once his responsibility to her was through, he’d rebuild all those walls so he could walk out of her life.

  “Why don’t you put your feet back up,” she said. “I’ll get us some dinner and then we can have a quiet evening. No bullets flying, no car chases.”

  That brought a tiny smile to his lips. He stretched out on the sofa, not even bothering with his shoes and, in a few minutes, he’d fallen asleep. Olivia gently covered him with the quilt then wandered into the kitchen. She grabbed the tuna casserole from the refrigerator, then popped it into the oven.

&
nbsp; As she searched a drawer for serving utensils, her mind wandered to Conor. She found herself pretending that he’d just come home from a long day at work, that she’d met him at the door with a kiss, that they were married and living a happy life together. She’d never imagined an ordinary life for herself. When she’d imagined marriage, it was always so much more exciting and urbane.

  But then the excitement didn’t really come from a fancy apartment or a glittering social life. It came from moments like these, moments when she could make Conor’s life more comfortable, moments when she could walk in the other room and just touch him when she wanted to. Olivia smiled, then pushed up on her toes and retrieved two wineglasses from the top shelf in the kitchen cabinet. But halfway there, she froze.

  A soft sigh slipped from her lips. What was she doing? All these silly fantasies, tropical vacations, quiet evenings after work? “He’s a cop, you’re a witness,” she murmured. She’d have to remind herself of that more often. This wasn’t a fairy tale romance with a happy ending, this was a few stolen days with a handsome cop who’d been assigned to protect her.

  A half hour later, the tuna casserole was bubbling in the oven and she’d set the coffee table in the living room for an impromptu meal. She retrieved the champagne from the fridge, then lit the candles that Geraldine had tucked in the basket. It all looked perfect…romantic.

  Olivia frowned. Was she being too presumptuous thinking that Conor might want to share a romantic evening with her? Whether she acknowledged it or not, this whole meal was a prelude to seduction. She’d secretly hoped that the candlelight and the champagne would lead to a few fleeting kisses. That those kisses would lead to a few more. That they’d end up passing the night in a passionate interlude in her bed.

  She moaned softly, doubts assailing her. This was way too obvious. She had to play harder to get! Reaching out, she grabbed one of the candles. But the sharp movement caused the wax to drip onto the back of her hand and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. She dropped the burning candle and it tipped over on the table, landing on the pile of paper napkins that she’d set out.

  In an instant, the napkins ignited. Olivia grabbed the champagne bottle and with fumbling fingers, tried to remove the cork. But before she could, the smoke alarm on the ceiling went off, a shriek loud enough to pierce her eardrums.

  Conor bolted upright and reached for the gun in his shoulder holster, dazed and confused. He glanced around the room, then scrambled off the sofa when he saw the small fire on the coffee table. “What the-” He snatched the champagne bottle from her hand and popped the cork, then dumped half the bottle on the burning napkins. The flames sizzled and then went out.

  Finally, Conor’s eyes cleared and he gaped at the mess on the table. “What the hell were you doing?”

  Olivia opened her mouth to explain, then snapped it shut. With a soft cry, she spun on her heel and ran into the bedroom, then slammed the door behind her. She sat down on the bed and clutched her trembling hands in her lap. What was she thinking? Did she really believe that she could seduce him with a candlelit meal and a bottle of champagne?

  “Olivia?” A soft rap sounded on the door.

  “Go away,” she muttered, too embarrassed to even look at him. True, she’d never been good at seduction, but even a dope could turn a frozen tuna casserole into a nice meal without setting the apartment on fire.

  “Come on,” he said. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. The smoke detector just startled me, that’s all. Come on out and eat with me. The tuna casserole is getting cold.”

  Olivia drew her knees up under her chin. “I’m not hungry!”

  The door opened and Conor peeked inside. He slowly approached the bed, then reached down and grabbed her hand. “If you ignore the smouldering napkins, the table looks very nice. And the food looks great.” He gave her arm a tug and pulled her to her feet. “Come on.”

  He dragged her along to the living room, then settled her beside him on the floor. The smell of scorched paper mixed with the aroma of tuna casserole and spilled champagne. Conor picked up the candle and relit it with a soggy book of matches. “See, it looks good,” he said as he scooped a spoonful of casserole onto her plate.

  She ignored the food. “What are we doing here?”

  Conor chuckled. “Well, a few minutes ago, you were torching our hideout. Now we’re eating dinner.”

  “No,” she murmured. “I mean, what are we doing? You’re a cop and I’m a witness and all I can think about is plying you with tuna casserole and champagne so you’ll kiss me again.” She turned to him, meeting his eyes directly. “What’s going to happen to us when this is all over?”

  Conor’s gaze dropped to the table and he picked up his fork and pushed the casserole around on his plate. “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. We have this attraction to each other. We slept together last night. Are we supposed to just stop when this is over and go on with our lives?”

  Conor closed his eyes and released a tightly held breath. “I don’t know, Olivia. I didn’t expect this to happen. It just happened.”

  “And as far as you’re concerned, this is all wrong,” Olivia said.

  “It’s not right,” he muttered. “And I could probably lose my job because of it. But there’s no going back, so I guess we shouldn’t worry about it.”

  “There is a way to go back,” Olivia said.

  “And how is that?”

  “We just have to stop this right now. Pretend it never happened.” She stood up and smoothed her hands over her thighs, hating what she’d been forced to say, yet knowing in her heart it was the best thing for both of them. They couldn’t go on without one of them getting hurt. “We can do that. Before it gets out of control.”

  “I think that ship has already sailed,” he said.

  “No, it hasn’t,” she replied firmly. “From now on, we go back to the way it was supposed to be. I’m the witness and you’re the cop.” She clutched her hands in front of her to stop the trembling, then forced a smile. “I-I think I should probably get some sleep-in my room, alone.”

  She’d slept away most of the afternoon and wasn’t at all tired. But Olivia knew if she didn’t walk away from Conor, didn’t lock herself in her bedroom, then there would be no way to keep herself from wanting him. “I-I’ll just be going,” she said, taking a step back.

  Olivia waited, hoping that he’d try to stop her, try to explain all the reasons why her plan would never work. But he just stared up at her, a look of resignation set on his handsome face. She felt as if her heart had been torn in two. How could she want him so much, yet know how serious the consequences were for him? And how could he want her so little that he could let her walk away?

  “Good night,” she murmured. Drawing a deep breath and gathering her resolve, she turned and walked to the bedroom. She closed the door behind her, waited for him to call her name, waited for an invitation back into his arms. But Conor remained silent and his silence told her all she needed to know.

  He didn’t want her. Or if he did, he was strong enough to resist. Olivia sat on the edge of the bed and drew a long, shaky breath. Now, if only she could find the same strength, then maybe she could get through this without losing her mind.

  OLIVIA STOOD in the darkened living room for a long time, watching him sleep by the moonlight that filtered through the windows. It was nearly three o’clock in the morning and she hadn’t slept a wink. But Conor wasn’t having the same trouble. He was draped across the sofa, his arm thrown over his head and one foot resting on the floor. His naked chest rose and fell in an even rhythm and the quilt was twisted around his long legs.

  She wanted to touch him one last time, to run her hands over his broad chest and trace a finger along the soft line of hair that ran from his collarbone to his belly. She wanted to take his face in her hands and kiss him, just to lose herself in the taste of his mouth for a moment or two.

  But they’d made a decision and she had to stick to it. To
give in to her impulses now would be pure weakness. Besides, the prospect of being turned away by Conor was too humiliating to even consider. She’d see that look in his eyes, that vague indifference, and he’d draw away, as if her touch meant nothing, or worse, as if he found it repulsive. No, she wouldn’t subject herself to that.

  Olivia turned to walk away, but she didn’t see the coffee table in the dark. Her shin banged up against the heavy wood and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Tears of pain pressed at the corners of her eyes and she muttered a silent string of curse words. The pain gradually subsided and she tested her leg. Though it hurt, she managed to take a few mincing steps.

  “Olivia?”

  She froze, holding her breath and hoping that Conor couldn’t see her in the dark. He moved, the blankets rustling, and Olivia winced, knowing that she wouldn’t get away without speaking to him. She slowly turned and forced a smile.

  “What’s wrong?” he murmured, brushing the sleep from his eyes. “Are you all right?”

  “No,” Olivia said.

  He sat up. “What is it?”

  “I-I was thirsty. I needed some water.” It sounded like a good excuse, though the water was in the kitchen and not the living room.

  His pushed to his feet, casting aside the quilt, and Olivia noticed that he wore only his boxers. She groaned inwardly. Why couldn’t they have sent her a cop with a big belly and bowlegs, she wondered. Why had she been cursed with a man who had an impossibly muscular chest and a perfect narrow waist and legs that were almost nicer than hers?

  “There’s water in the kitchen,” he murmured. “Would you like me to get you a glass?”

  She drew a ragged breath and shook her head. “I don’t want water,” Olivia said, her voice trembling. “I-I want you.” The words barely registered. What if he refused? What if she had to walk back to her bedroom all alone? “I-I can’t sleep and I want you to come to bed with me.”