“No, mi hija.” Her father pulled her into a fierce hug. “It’s not like that.”
“But you told him I’d go. You promised that man I’d go to college in America. It sounds an awful lot like sending me away.”
“That man is your brother, and he’s offering you the chance at a better life than I could ever give.”
“He’s not my brother. I don’t know him.”Karise nestled closer to her father, taking in the fragrance that was distinctly him. “You give me a good life, Papá.”
“Saying he’s not your brother won’t make it true. And he’s tried to get to know you. He loves you.”
“How can he love me? The only thing we have in common is her.” Karise spit the word out; even the pronoun alluding to her mother was distasteful.
“Don’t say no just yet. Think about it. And remember, college is only four years. You can come home when you’re finished, but you might just find that living in America isn’t so bad. Maybe you’ll want to stay.”
Karise awoke from the dream with a start. It took a moment for reality to settle over her, though. She wasn’t a heartbroken 17-year-old girl begging her father not to send her away. She was a grown woman who’d worked hard to carve out a good life away from the reach of the McAlister name, or at least as far as possible.
At the time, Karise hadn’t been able to fathom wanting to stay so far away from the only home she’d ever known. Their little village wasn’t much, but it was home and Karise loved it deeply. All of that changed when Devon moved to Ecuador to build a rose plantation. Her father and stepmother went to work for him, so even if Karise had chosen not to go to college in America, her childhood home would be no more.
She hadn’t been able to bear the thought of living in Devon’s home, no matter how many times he told her she was welcome. She didn’t want to feel like the poor, beholden relative whose only bond with Devon was their crazy biological mother.
She’d left her father that day with the promise she would think about Devon’s offer. As she’d wandered down her favorite path, Karise turned the options over in her mind. The rational part of her had known her choices were limited if she stayed in Ecuador. Her father’s family had no money. The best she could hope for would be to get a job working on Devon’s plantation.
On the other hand, if she took him up on his offer, she could use the education to find a job, a good job. Then she could pay Devon back and maybe even have money to send her father. Even then, despite her lack of knowledge when it came to the ways of the world, Karise had known enough to understand not many men would have lived up to the responsibility the way Pablo had when Victoria McAlister dropped a young Karise off on his doorstep with a note saying the child was his. Never once had he treated her like a burden. Instead, he and his new wife treated her life a gift from heaven.
It was out of gratitude for that love, that life, that Karise finally accepted Devon’s offer. There was a time in her life when Karise would sit and doodle in her sketchpad, drawing up houses that were more art than building. At the time, she envisioned being the Frank Lloyd Wright of her day. She wanted to make homes that meant something, that combined form and function while existing seamlessly with their surrounding environment.
But once she graduated, she realized she could chase down a fanciful dream or she could accept the very real job offer cranking out office buildings. Her mother had been the kind of woman to chase down a dream no matter the cost. Determined not to follow in those particular footsteps, Karise had taken the job and set about making the kind of life for herself that made her father happy and proud. She still doodled, just not often and only to clear her mind.
When she’d tried to pay Devon back, he’d refused. They finally compromised by putting the money into an education fund for the workers on his plantation.
Karise rubbed her face. It was obvious she wasn’t going back to sleep anytime soon, even though the clock told her it was just after midnight. Her unexpected walk down memory lane left her homesick, but whenever she tried to shift her thoughts in a new direction, they stubbornly landed on a man who’d apparently mastered the lost art of smoldering.
Wanting to avoid yet another tedious conversation about the state of their relationship, she was careful not to wake William as she slid out of their king-sized bed. Karise tried watching TV, but it just irritated her. She tried answering emails, but they irritated her, too. Everything irritated her. Even the air in the apartment felt oppressive. On a whim, she pulled her sketchpad out of her bedside table drawer before quietly dressing in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, pulling on her jacket as she slid out the door. Cold air washed over her the instant she stepped out of their building, reminding her winter had yet to completely relinquish its grip to spring. She turned to head back in for a more substantial coat, only to realize she’d left her keys sitting on the kitchen island.
After blowing out a sigh of frustration, Karise shrugged deeper into her jacket and set off on her walk. There was no way she was waking William up now to admit her predicament. She’d figure something out later. For now, she could only hope cold air worked as well as a cold shower. Well, that and she also kinda hoped she didn’t get mugged in the process of clearing her head.
Bars were emptying out for the night, pouring their patrons onto the streets and interrupting Karise’s train of thought. She clutched her sketchpad to her chest, unsure why she brought it but oddly comforted by its presence nonetheless. She could kick herself for getting into this mess. Since she at least had her wallet with her, Karise debated getting a hotel room or hailing a taxi to take her to an all-night diner. Whatever she did, she couldn’t bring herself to go home just yet. The bright, cheerful apartment she’d worked so hard to achieve suddenly felt more like a cage than a home.
A deep voice broke her reverie. “Karise?”
“Aidan.” Karise smiled while inwardly cursing her luck. “What are the odds of running into you here?”
“Maybe it really is a small world.”
“Were you at an after party?” Karise mentally congratulated herself for her improved conversation skills.
“Nah. Couldn’t sleep.”
Was there something in his expression? Karise dismissed it as shadows playing tricks and answered, “Me either. Weird dreams made me homesick.”
She wasn’t sure why she’d admitted that. He nodded in acknowledgement. A long moment passed before either spoke.
“Since we’re both walking, do you want to walk in the same direction?”
Karise hesitated. Walking with Aidan greatly reduced her chances of being pillaged, but it also increased her chances of doing or saying something stupid. Safety won out and she gave a slight nod of agreement, falling easily in line beside him as he ambled down the sidewalk.
“I feel like I should apologize for not mentioning William sooner.”
“No worries. You were pretty busy insulting me. And that rock on your hand did the job for you.”
Karise glanced down at her engagement ring with a certain amount of embarrassment. It was bigger than what she would have chosen, but William had insisted on the best. “I wasn’t insulting you. Not on purpose anyway. And it’s rude to remind me of it now.”
“Sorry. I have to admit to being curious about the source of your derision for artists.”
“Life experience.”
“Ex-boyfriend? Is that why you wound up with the amadan?
“He’s not an amadan.” Karise scowled. “What’s an amadan?”
Aidan merely grinned in response. Karise let it go, allowing silence to once again reign for several blocks.
“It wasn’t a boyfriend,” Karise admitted softly. “It was my mother.”
He stopped, turning toward Karise to eye her speculatively for a moment. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged, not sure what to say.
“Why does someone who dislikes artists carry a sketchpad?”
“It’s not art.” Karise stopped and looked around, unsure where she w
as headed.
“Do you want me to walk you home?” Aidan offered.
“No.” Karise shook her head. “I mean, I locked myself out and can’t quite bring myself to wake William. I’ve had enough lectures for one evening.”
“Does he lecture you often?” Aidan arched an eyebrow.
“I hadn’t noticed before, but yes, he kind of does.” Admitting as much bothered Karise. Her brow crinkled as she tried to process just how her life had gotten to that point.
“Oh.” Aidan cocked his head, studying her. “Are you planning on walking the streets of Boston all night, then?”
“To be honest, I hadn’t figured that part out yet.”
“I can’t imagine you being anything other than honest.”
“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” he nodded. “Do you want to go back to my room with me?”
Karise laughed out loud at that. “I’m not that confused.”
“Ouch. Too honest.”
“Oh no, I mean, that sounds amazing, and if I were a different kind of girl, I would love to.” She couldn’t help casting an appreciative look his way. “But I can’t. I’m engaged and I don’t even know you. I’m engaged.”
He held up a hand to stop her before the dam burst and she was in a full-scale babble. “I wasn’t propositioning you, just giving you a place to be while you figured out what was next.”
“Oh,” she chirped. “You weren’t propositioning me?”
He shook his head, making a valiant attempt at not laughing.
“It seems my ability to make an ass of myself knows no bounds.”
“If you weren’t engaged, I probably would have,” he assured her.
“That’s very nice of you to say.” Karise wanted to die.
“Do you want me to get us a cab? I’ve been wandering for a while; I think it’s a pretty hefty walk back,” he prompted when no answer was forthcoming.
Despite the logical piece of her brain telling her it was ludicrous to get into a cab with a stranger, she found herself nodding affirmation.
The ride seemed to take forever with his presence filling the small space. Karise couldn’t help fidgeting with her hands. They wanted so badly to touch him. The damn things had a mind of their own, it seemed. Both occupants were quiet as each openly studied the other. Karise wondered what was behind those eyes. Her own thoughts were a tumult as she followed him up to his room.
Once inside, he offered Karise a seat and a drink, both of which she gratefully accepted. As he set about pulling the wine cork, he broke the silence. “I’m probably going to regret asking this, but why are you with the amadan?”
“You seriously have to stop calling him that, or at least tell me what it means.” Karise took the glass of wine from his hands and thought about her answer for a moment. “He’s a very nice man.”
“I’m sure he is, but I’ve known you for two seconds and I can tell the two of you don’t fit.”
Karise opened her mouth to argue before closing it again. There was truth to his words. How had she not seen that before? “Maybe he fits who I was trying to be.”
“That doesn’t sound very fair to either of you.”
“I think that’s enough insight into my love life for now.” Karise shifted uncomfortably under the weight of this new knowledge. “How about you? Is there a Mrs… whatever your last name is?”
“Donnelly, and no, not anymore. She left four years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Turns out that wasn’t such a great fit, either.”
Karise’s hand started to reach out, to trace her fingers along his jaw to draw away the sadness that lingered there. She caught herself in the nick of time and tucked an errant tendril of hair behind her ear instead.
“Enough of that.” Aidan’s face brightened. “I have to know – what’s in the sketchbook?”
“Don’t laugh,” Karise commanded as she grudgingly relinquished her hold on the book. “It’s just silly drawings of houses.”
He flipped through the book, slowing occasionally to linger over a particular page. “I thought you said it wasn’t art. These are beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Karise flushed with pleasure.
He offered the book back to her. “If you can create something like this, why do you build office buildings you hate instead?”
Their fingers grazed each other as the book exchanged hands. Karise’s breath caught; their eyes locked. “I guess because somebody offered me a job building offices. It didn’t seem practical to turn it down for houses nobody would want.”
“I can’t imagine nobody would want these.”
Karise swallowed.
“Are you always practical?” His eyes held hers captive.
“I try to be.” Her voice sounded small in her own ears.
“Why?”
“Fighting genetics, I guess.”
“Interesting.” This time it was his turn to lift his hand, pause, and then run his fingers through his hair.
“Why am I telling you all of this?” Karise posed the question to herself more than to him.
He leaned back in his chair, breaking the spell between them. “I’m a stranger. It’s safe.”
“I hardly think you’re safe.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”
Aidan chuckled, but took pity on her and moved on to the next topic. Maybe it was the wine pouring generously, maybe it was the passage of time, but the conversation got easier and they moved freely from topic to topic. She soaked up his every word, every syllable, like a sponge. She learned the accent was indeed Irish, a remnant from his childhood. She knew he had two younger sisters and an older brother. His parents were divorced and living on separate continents, his siblings scattered throughout the States.
More telling was the moment when she found herself admitting to him her mother was Victoria McAlister, the woman whose affair with an Ecuadorian peasant made the news when it destroyed her marriage to corporate mogul Dane McAlister. That was a dirty little secret she preferred to keep tucked away. Aidan listened to that part of the tale without comment, although he did reach out to brush her cheek with his thumb when her voice faltered. That sent a wave of electricity streaking out from the one contact point, causing her brain to skip to an altogether different train of thought. After stammering for a few sentences, she finally got back to a safer topic.
Aidan was fascinated by her half-siblings. While she couldn’t blame him – they led incredible lives – she wasn’t thrilled when the conversation settled on the two people she’d spent most of her life pretending didn’t exist. She preferred to spend her time on warm, happy memories, like the ones of her father.
After emptying their second bottle of wine, Aidan settled onto the couch next to Karise. “Why architecture?” he wondered aloud.
“When I was seventeen, my father gave me a leather-bound journal. I think he intended it to be a diary or something, but I found myself filling it up with pictures of my dream house. And then Devon showed up to build his rose plantation. I remember watching the workers turn blueprints into a breathtaking home and being enthralled by the entire process. Papa used to tease me that I was just hanging around for the workers, but it really was the house.”
He watched her long enough for her cheeks to heat back up before he cracked a mischievous grin and teased, “Come on, admit it. It was the construction workers.”
“You really are obnoxious. You know that?”
“I prefer to think of it as charming.”
“Huh.”
“In a devilish sort of way, maybe?”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” A smile still played on her lips as she settled back into the couch. She didn’t intend to fall asleep, but its haze claimed her before the next thought could formulate itself. Karise couldn’t be sure if she dreamt. All she was really aware of was warmth. It wasn’t until sunlight crept through the cu
rtains that her eyelids fluttered open. She fought through the fog clinging to the recesses of her mind, trying to make sense of the arms wrapped around her and the solid chest she was using as a pillow.
Judging from his ragged breath, Aidan was awake and in the midst of the same struggle for control Karise now found herself in. His hands were on either side of her face, tilting her head toward his. Karise forgot to breathe for a heartbeat. She really wanted to lean into him, to soak up more of all of it, all of him. The weight of the ring on her finger kept her from acting on that desire, though. Instead, she scrambled up, apologizing repeatedly as she did.
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in that position.”
Karise stopped her flustered rush to gather her shoes, looking him in the eye at last. “It’s okay. I don’t think either of us meant any harm. It just kind of happened. Right?”
“Right.” His voice lacked assurance.
Karise knew she should put her shoes on and call for a cab. She should at very least break eye contact. Instead she found herself leaning in, close enough to feel the heat of his skin. Whether he made the first move or she did wasn’t clear, but somehow they wound up in each other’s arms. The kiss was hungry, though she couldn’t say if it was his hunger or her own she sensed. The moment was a decadent assault on the senses: the crisp, clean scent that was both unidentifiable and distinctly masculine; the pleasant sandpaper of his unshaven jaw; his solid presence encompassing her…she couldn’t get enough. Heaven help her, she might have even tugged his lower lip with her teeth. Everything in her wanted more – and it was that wave of urgency that woke her up.
The embrace ended as quickly as it began. Karise and Aidan stood blinking at each other. Without thinking, Karise ran her fingers across her lips, still staring at his. Horror washed over her as she realized what she’d done. She’d acted just like her mother; she’d been unfaithful to a perfectly good man who didn’t deserve this.
“I… I’d better go.” She backed away from him. “Thanks again. It was nice meeting you.”
With that she ran from the room, thankful for the line of taxis waiting at the stand outside.
Waiting for You Page 2
