Keely drew a ragged breath, then turned for the door, willing herself to walk out without looking back. When she got outside, the sun was just coming up, the low rays glittering on fresh snow. The driveway was clear and Rafe's car had been cleaned off.
She walked toward it, each step more determined than the last. The car door was frozen shut and she tugged on the handle, tears welling up in her eyes. Maybe she wasn't supposed to leave. Maybe this was a sign. She gave it one more tug and it came open. Keely quickly crawled inside and slipped the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, but she clutched the steering wheel for a long moment before she put the car in gear.
As she steered up the driveway, she wondered why fate had thrown them together that night in front of the pub. If she believed in things like destiny and karma and kismet, then she was meant to meet Rafe. But maybe it hadn't been to love him. Maybe it was to show her how strong the bonds of family could be.
Whatever was going to happen in Boston, Keely was ready for it. She'd go back and tell her brothers what she knew. And then she'd introduce herself and get to know her family. And someday, when everything was back to normal, then maybe she would call Rafe…and they could have dinner…and talk.
But what the future might hold with Rafe would have to wait. Right now, there were things in her life more important than passion.
HE HAD KNOWN she was gone the moment he opened his eyes. The fire had crackled brightly beside him, but the cabin had been silent. He'd dressed, then used his cell phone to call for a car, finding a limo service that operated between Boston and the ski resorts at nearby Stowe.
All the way back home, Rafe had tried not to think about her, but memories of their night together filled his mind. He'd never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Keely. But it wasn't just about passion and release. He needed her in his life to give him balance and perspective. Keely had shown him what happiness was all about.
When he'd arrived at his apartment, his doorman had handed him the keys to his Mercedes, informing him that Keely had delivered his car safely to the parking garage just hours before. Rafe hadn't even bothered to go upstairs. Instead, he'd hopped in his car and driven directly to his office.
Rafe stared at the mess on his desk. He'd come to the office to get his mind off of Keely. But he'd picked up one project after another, then been distracted by lapses into fantasies. He had to admit, even his fantasies weren't as good as the reality of making love to Keely.
He cursed softly. "Focus, focus."
Digging through the papers, he picked up a prospectus for an office complex Kencor was planning in Portland, Maine. But as he stared at the columns of figures, he lost his concentration once again. Learning what had really happened to his father had consumed his thoughts before he met Keely. And now he wasn't even sure he cared anymore. His father was dead and nothing he found out was going to bring him back. But Keely was alive, she was part of the present, and he'd let her go.
"What the hell-oh. Hello. What are you doing here?" Rafe looked up from his report to find Sylvie standing at the door.
"Nice catch. That will be five dollars. Half a curse."
She shook her head. "It's New Year's Day. Shouldn't you be home watching football and thinking about how you're going to treat me better this year?"
"You know I don't celebrate the holidays."
"Then what were you doing up at the cabin with a woman on New Year's Eve?" Sylvie asked.
"Are we related? Because we should be, considering the amount of time you spend meddling in my life."
Sylvie walked into his office and flopped into one of Rafe's wing chairs. "I came to work because my children were driving me crazy and my husband is wallpapering the bathroom. If I didn't leave, I'd be forced to give him advice and then he'd get mad and we'd end up bickering for the rest of the day."
"So, is that what marriage is like?"
"Why, are you thinking of giving it a try?"
Rafe laughed. "Why would you think that?"
"I don't know. You've been acting a little weird lately. I thought maybe you'd met someone."
"Maybe I have."
A silence descended around them. Sylvie tapped her foot against his desk, always impatient. "Well," she finally said, "is that it?"
"How did you know you wanted to get married? What was it that sealed the deal? I mean, choosing to spend the rest of your life with one person is a big decision."
"It wasn't a difficult decision," Sylvie said. "I just knew I couldn't imagine my future without him in it. Whenever I thought of events in my life, he was always there in these photos I had in my head. For a while, I forced myself to remove him from the images, but he kept creeping back in. So that was it. Since he was already in the photos, I decided to keep him."
"It sounds so simple."
"It is, if you let it be."
Rafe leaned back in his chair and linked his hands behind his head. "And what about Tom? Did he feel the same way? Were you in his head photos, too?"
"No. Not at first. It took a little convincing. I think men are more leery about commitment than women. They always believe there's someone better waiting just around the bend. But then, sooner or later, you realize that even if the person around the bend is cuter or smarter or richer, that doesn't make a difference."
Rafe closed his eyes and tipped his head back. "It doesn't make a difference," he murmured.
"What doesn't?"
"Keely." He paused. "Her name is Keely Quinn. And I know I'll never find someone like her. Never."
Sylvie broke into a wide grin. "Then what's stopping you?"
"Problems. Big problems. Her family."
"If you love her, you can overcome anything."
"Didn't I read that on a greeting card somewhere?" Rafe straightened the papers on his desk and then stood up. "I'm going home. I'm not going to get anything done today. Maybe I'll watch a little football and do some wallpapering."
Sylvie laughed. "Seriously, if you need any advice, you can always come to me. Especially when it comes to fine jewelry, chocolates and flowers."
"I'll remember that." Rafe paused before he walked out of his office. "Go home, Sylvie. And count your lucky stars that you have what you have."
As Rafe rode the elevator down to the parking garage, he thought about his conversation with Sylvie. Besides his mother, she was about the closest thing he had to family. He valued her opinion. But he still couldn't believe that falling in love was simple. In truth, it was the most difficult, confusing, unbalancing thing he'd ever experienced.
"Give it up," Rafe murmured. "Walk away before Keely Quinn cuts the legs out from under you and you can't walk at all."
But he couldn't walk away from his memories, the images that flashed in his head every time he thought about Keely. No matter where he was, no matter what he was doing, she'd be with him. For how long? Months? Years? The rest of his life?
The elevator doors opened and Rafe strolled toward his car in the otherwise empty parking lot. He slipped inside and put the key in the ignition, then turned to back the car out of his parking spot. But as he did, he noticed a pair of gloves sitting on the front passenger seat. He stopped the car, then reached out and picked them up. They were Keely's.
Rafe brought them up to his nose. He could still smell her perfume in the cashmere lining. He closed his eyes and let the scent drift through his head. She probably missed these, especially in this cold weather. Rafe reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, ready to punch in the number for the bed-and-breakfast where she was staying.
But after entering only half the number, he snapped the phone closed. "Damn it," he muttered. He was looking for an excuse to see her again. It wasn't as if she couldn't afford a new pair of gloves. For now, he'd let her go. She could solve her problems with her family and stand behind her father.
Rafe flipped open his phone again and punched in a number on speed dial. The owner of one of Kencor's preferred contracting companies picked up after
two rings. "Rafe Kendrick here. I need a favor. I want you to find me an asbestos contractor that can do a small job very quickly. Within the next week. And I want to make some special arrangements for payment. I want them to reduce their rate and I'll pick up the difference. Call me back with a name."
Rafe closed the phone and smiled. So maybe he could repair a few of the bridges that he had burned. And perhaps, someday, he and Keely could meet in the middle.
CHAPTER NINE
KEELY SAT at the table near the front window of the bakery, her gaze fixed on the three sketches she'd laid out on the table. The bride and her mother had been discussing the merits of each design for nearly a half hour and she was starting to get a bit annoyed.
The last place she wanted to be right now was back in New York. But when she'd returned from Rafe's cabin, there had been a stack of messages waiting for her at the bed-and-breakfast. Her mother had been desperately trying to contact her. When she called home, Keely was stunned to learn that both Janelle and Kim had made a New Year's resolution-to open their own cake-decorating business. To that end, they'd both handed in their resignations before the clock struck midnight, leaving Keely with only one assistant, and a rookie at that.
So she'd rushed back home and over the past few days had been elbow deep in buttercream, working day and night to finish the jobs they'd been contracted for, and to meet with customers who had been waiting for over a month to discuss their ideas.
Keely sighed softly and glanced between the bride and her mother. What was so difficult about choosing? If it were her wedding, she'd know precisely what she wanted. She'd wear a simple silk shantung gown with an Irish lace overlay on the bodice and a fingertip-length veil. And her bridesmaids would wear deep blue if the wedding was in winter and pale peach if it were in summer. Her wedding cake would be alive with color, maybe a detailed basket-weave pattern with fresh berries cascading over the edges of the tiers, or gum paste roses with iridescent color. A small combo that played romantic dance standards would entertain at the reception and guests would dine on beef filet with a rich demiglace sauce and sauteed fingerling potatoes.
As for her groom, Rafe would be dressed in-Keely stopped herself. After all that had happened between them, how could she possibly believe that she and Rafe would ever walk down the aisle together? That was just a fantasy now, and it would probably remain a fantasy. She sighed inwardly. But he would have made a handsome groom, dressed in a morning coat and ascot with a single white rose in his lapel.
She could have been planning her wedding right now if she hadn't chosen her family over Rafe. If she had given him a chance, he might have asked her to marry him. She bit her bottom lip. What if she'd given up her only chance at true happiness? What if Rafe Kendrick was the last man who would ever tell her he loved her?
"What if I grow old alone, turn into a wretched old hag and everyone calls me the 'cake lady'?" Keely murmured.
"Miss McClain?"
Keely shook herself out of her daydream. "Yes? I'm sorry, what were you saying?"
The bride pointed to the tulip cake. "This is the one. It's perfect for our spring wedding. But I was wondering if we might change the color of the tulips to go with my colors."
"Of course," Keely said. "That would be no problem. Why don't you send me a small swatch of the color and I'll match it exactly? Then you'll also need to give me your final guest count so I can size the tiers accordingly." Keely smiled, then stood. She took the cake design and rolled it up, then handed it to the bride. "You can take this with you to show your bridesmaids."
The bride held out her hand and Keely took it. "Thank you so much for agreeing to do our cake. The first time I saw one of your designs, I knew I'd have to have you for my wedding."
"A Keely McClain cake is the best," the bride's mother said. "And our Lisa Ann deserves the best."
Keely watched as the bride and her mother walked out the front door of the bakery. "Keely Quinn," she murmured. "A Keely Quinn cake is the best."
She gathered up the rejected designs, then wandered back into the workroom. Fiona was there, piping a border around the top edge of another Keely Quinn design, this one for a wedding in the style of Louis XIV. "That's supposed to be fleur de lis," Keely said. "Not rope. Rope is too simple."
"If you don't like it, you can bloody well do it yourself," Fiona said, arching her eyebrow.
Keely sighed. She had only been back home for a few days and already she and her mother were on the edge of an argument. Fiona still couldn't accept her decision to go to Boston and find her father and brothers, and had never stopped trying to convince her to stop her "foolish" quest. Yet she also seemed desperate for any news Keely might provide about her sons. Add to that her worry over the bakery and the business and she snapped at everything Keely said.
Keely picked up a pastry bag filled with icing and began to pipe the fleur de lis onto the cake. "There's something I need to tell you, Ma."
Fiona looked up. "The only thing I want to hear is that you're home to stay."
"This is serious," Keely said softly.
"What is it?" Worry suffused Fiona's expression. "Is it one of the boys?"
"No, they're fine. At least they were the last time I saw them. It's Seamus. He's in trouble."
Her mother laughed harshly and shook her head. "Well, that's not news now, is it? He always had a fondness for pushing his limits with the law."
The border her mother was piping suddenly became uneven. Keely reached over and grabbed her arm, then slowly lowered the pastry bag to the table. "This is different, Ma. He's in real trouble. He's been accused of murder."
Fiona gasped and the bag slipped from her fingers. "Murder?"
"Do you remember anything about a crew member on my father's boat who died during a fishing run? His name was Sam Kendrick."
Keely saw the subtle shift in her mother's expression, as if she were surprised to hear the name after so many years. "No," she said. "I can't recall the name."
"You must know something. Ma, a man died on Seamus's boat. Surely he must have spoken of it."
"He might have mentioned it, but that was a long time ago." Fiona picked up the pastry bag. "I don't recall the particulars. Are you going to help me with this or are you going to stand there and chatter?"
"Try to remember. It's important."
"I hope you're not planning to go back to Boston anytime soon," Fiona said, changing the subject. "Your absence has put a terrible strain on the business. We haven't booked any new clients since you left and if you don't come back soon we won't have any business next spring. The clients want to meet with you. You're the one with the reputation, not me, and they won't book with us unless they get to talk to you about their weddings."
"This is my business," Keely muttered. "And if I choose to run it into the ground, that's also my business." She paused, realizing how harsh her words sounded. "I'm not going to run it into the ground. But maybe it would be better if we slowed things down a little bit."
"I'm beginning to think you prefer Boston to New York. Maybe we should just think about picking up and moving the business there."
Keely knew her mother was simply being sarcastic. But the idea wasn't a bad one. Boston was only three hours away with decent traffic. She'd have to buy a refrigerated truck and they'd have to make arrangements to deliver the cakes on Friday night rather than Saturday morning, and she would have to travel back into the city once or-
She drew her thoughts to a halt. This was crazy! She promised herself she wouldn't fall into this trap, of fantasizing about a life with a man she could never have. If she lived in Boston, in all practicality her business in New York would be seriously affected. She'd have to build a whole new clientele in a whole new town, where people might not be inclined to spend thousands of dollars on a silly cake.
"When are you planning to tell them?"
Keely grabbed a damp towel and wiped a bit of icing from her hand. "With everything that's going on with Seamus, it didn't seem
to be the right time. Just more confusion on top of what they already have. I just wish there was something I could do to help. It would make telling them so much easier."
"Lee Franklin," Fiona murmured as she continued piping.
"What?"
"Lee Franklin. He was a crew member on that run. He saw the whole thing. His wife and I were good friends and she told me what he said about the incident. Your father wasn't responsible for that man's death, Keely."
"Where is this Franklin guy?"
"I have no idea. I don't know if he's alive still." She stopped what she was doing and grabbed a pad and pencil from the table. After she'd scribbled something on the paper, she ripped the sheet off and handed it to Keely. "That's his social security number. I suppose you could track him through that."
"How could you possibly know his social security number?"
"I used to do the books for the Mighty Quinn," Fiona explained. "I made up little tricks to remember the numbers of the crewmen so I wouldn't have to look them up all the time. Lee Franklin's began with Conor's birthday and ended with our house number. His was the easiest to remember."
Keely couldn't believe what she'd been given. She jumped off the stool and threw her arms around her mother's neck, giving her a fierce hug. "Thank you, Ma. You don't know what this means to me."
"But I know what it means to me. You're going back to Boston now and you don't know when you'll be back."
"I'm going to give this to my brothers," Keely said, "and then I'm going to tell them who I am." She rushed out of the workroom then turned around and hurried back in to give her mother a kiss on each cheek. "I'll be home in a few days."
As she grabbed her jacket and tugged it on, Keely couldn't contain her excitement. With this proof, she could make a real contribution to Seamus's defense. If she helped to clear her father of a murder charge, her family would have to accept her. They'd probably welcome her with open arms.
But as she walked to her car, another thought occurred to her. If the truth was known, then Rafe would be forced to give up his vendetta against her father. And once he accepted the truth, then there would be nothing standing in their way. She could love him and he could love her.
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