by Beth Andrews
That she was still Tim Sullivan’s daughter.
The tube of lipstick fell from her fingers, slid into the sink leaving a red smear. Her fingers trembled as she picked it up, put the lid back on and slid it into her clutch as someone tapped on the door.
Rolling her shoulders back, she unlocked the door, sent a smile at the middle-aged woman waiting in the hall then headed back to the party.
She turned the corner and stopped to see Griffin standing just inside the doorway, all rough edges and sex appeal in a pair of khakis and a blue, button-down shirt. He was here. He came.
She shut her eyes against the sudden relief that turned her legs to jelly, to the sting of tears behind her eyelids. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, press her face against his neck and weep. Wanted to hold on to him and never let go.
Hurrying toward him, she got stuck behind a large man holding a small infant and could only watch as Uncle Ken stormed up to Griffin.
“This is a private event,” Uncle Ken said, his oh-so-polite tone unable to hide the thread of steel underneath it. “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”
“Must be you didn’t get the memo,” Griffin said, “but I was invited.”
Uncle Ken bristled. “By whom?”
“Me,” she said as she reached them. She slid between the two men facing off amidst the gaiety of free food and, even better, an open bar. “Griffin. Hi. Glad you could make it.”
He inclined his head. “Angel.”
Behind her, Uncle Ken stiffened even more. “What’s going on here, Nora?”
“Griffin is my plus one. Is that a problem?”
Ken’s eyebrows drew together at her harsh tone. “Of course not,” he said, slowly. He leaned in close, touched her arm. “Honey, are you all right? Can I get you a soda?”
All right? She held back a hysterical laugh. No, she wasn’t all right. She was miserable and heartbroken and so angry she wanted to slap him, to rail at him. How could he have done that? How could he have slept with his brother’s wife?
How could he be her father?
“I’m fine,” she said with difficulty, easing back so that his hand fell to his side. She pressed against Griffin’s side. “I’m just fine.”
Ken looked hurt and confused and she was torn, torn between guilt and resentment. Between the love she felt for him, had always felt for him, and her disappointment in him.
“Well, then, I’d better get back to the party,” he said. “I hope you two enjoy yourselves.” He sounded as if he could almost mean it. Almost. But she knew it was just as big of an act as hers because there was no way he wanted the son of the man who was blackmailing him at his daughter’s engagement party. No way he wanted Nora around Griffin.
“We will,” Nora assured him, as firmly as she’d told him she was fine, determined to make both statements true.
Behind them, a twentysomething couple entered the restaurant and Ken greeted them with a politician’s smile. Nora tugged Griffin farther into the restaurant.
She led him to the table in the corner her family had claimed as their own. Tori’s purse was on the table next to Celeste’s camera bag. Her father had already taken off his suit jacket and it hung over the back of his vacant chair. Nora glanced around and saw her sisters having what looked like an animated—and quite humorous—conversation with a woman they’d gone to school with. Her father and Celeste stood with their arms around each other’s waists, Celeste’s camera hanging from her neck. Erin and Collin stood by his grandparents’ table while Astor and Ken worked the room like the social pros they were, handing out greetings and smiles, handshakes and welcomes with ease.
Everyone she loved would be hurt by the truth, their lives forever altered. She didn’t think she could do that to them, couldn’t hurt them that way.
But she was afraid she wasn’t strong enough to hold this secret inside of her. It was already ripping her apart. She’d never be the same. Would never look at her life, her family the same.
“Can I get you a drink?” she asked Griffin, ignoring his scowl, how his expression seemed to get darker and darker the farther they made it into the restaurant. She had enough on her mind. “Or something to eat? They’ve set up a buffet in the back, the pot stickers are to die for.” Nothing. He didn’t even look at her, just kept glowering at the crowd, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his khakis, his hair neat, his face clean-shaven. “I think they stuffed them with crack,” she added.
His head swung up, his eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Just seeing if you’re paying attention.”
“I’ll have a beer,” he said, looking defensive as if he expected her to make some quip about his drink of choice.
“Okay,” she said slowly, wondering if her calling and asking him to come there had been a mistake. “I’ll be right back but feel free to mingle.”
When she walked away she heard him mutter, “That’ll be a cold day in hell.”
Charming as always. She could be grateful that, at least, hadn’t changed.
At the bar, she ordered his beer and herself a glass of Merlot and noticed Anthony hunched over a glass of whiskey in the corner. Thought about how, before she’d known the possibility that she wasn’t just his cousin, but his sister, she would’ve gone over to him, nudged his shoulder. Now she kept her distance.
But then he tossed half his drink back and stared across the room.
Frowning, she followed his gaze. Her eyebrows rose at the sight of Jess leading Tanner over to her uncle and Layne. Nora couldn’t stay away. She went up to Anthony and laid a hand on his arm. “You okay?” she asked quietly.
He raised his glass. “Never better.” Then he drained it and held up his finger for the bartender to bring him another one.
Her drinks arrived and she bit her lower lip, glanced between her obviously miserable, quickly becoming inebriated cousin and her miserable, looked-ready-to-rip-out-the-throat-of-anyone-who-so-much-as-looked-at-him date.
And to think, she’d invited Griffin to get her mind off of her worries, to help her through a tough time.
Figuring she owed it to society at large to worry more about her date than Anthony, she picked up her drinks. “Take it easy on those,” she told her young cousin softly.
He met her eyes and took a long gulp.
“Very mature,” she told him. “But just remember this is your sister’s night.” She leaned closer so she could speak into his ear. “And if you do anything to spoil it, you will have to deal with me.”
Glaring at her, he deliberately pushed his drink aside and then got to his feet and walked away.
At least that was one problem dealt with. She went back to her table. Griffin sat alone, his legs stretched out in front of him as he took in the room.
“Here you go,” she said, handing him his beer as she sat next to him. She sipped her wine. A DJ played music in the other room where a small dance floor had been set up. The song selection was good and from what she’d heard, the food was even better. The place was packed as just about everyone Erin and Collin cared for was there to celebrate their engagement.
She only wished she could enjoy it.
“This what you’re looking for?” Griffin asked, his voice startling her out of her thoughts.
She picked up a napkin from the table and blotted at the drop of wine that had spilled on her dress. “Excuse me?”
His gaze never wavered from hers. “This is an engagement party, right? To celebrate the perfect couple before they have the perfect wedding and live the perfect life? Isn’t that what you want?”
She set her wineglass on the table, feeling as if there was more to his question “Not at the moment, no,” she said slowly. But she couldn’t deny she’d dreamed of having that perfect life with someone who loved her. “Right now I’d just be happy to
get through this evening.”
“This isn’t exactly my scene,” he said, sounding like a teenager.
She glanced around at her aunt and uncle’s polished friends, the expensive decor and fancy dresses. “Yes, well, I don’t think it’s anyone’s usual scene, at least, not for us normal folk.”
“You look right here,” he said gruffly. “In that dress and those heels…your hair. You fit right in.”
“Is that a compliment?” she asked, refusing to raise her hand to her heat ironed hair or adjust the thin strap of her sage colored dress. “Or an insult?”
“Can it be both?”
“No.”
His lips twitched and for the first time since Dale had told her about her mother and uncle’s affair, the knot in her stomach eased.
“You look good,” Griffin said. “And you know it.”
“Thank you so much for that heartfelt declaration,” she said, telling herself it was stupid to feel disappointed. What did she want from him? A sonnet written to her beauty, grace and charm? He liked her. Enjoyed spending time with her. Hadn’t he taken her on a frightening—and yes, exhilarating—ride on his motorcycle?
She sipped her wine and noticed Griffin watching her with interest and attraction and something close to caution. She didn’t care, couldn’t worry about trying to figure him out. She needed him tonight. Needed his strong, steady presence to help her navigate the rough seas threatening to drown her.
He was real, maybe the only real thing she had left in her life. And she was going to hold on to him for as long as she could.
* * *
TANNER FELT LIKE a complete dork.
His damn tie was crooked. He kept tugging at it, trying to straighten it but it felt like it was strangling him so he finally let his hand drop. The restaurant was packed, so packed that he hadn’t even realized his brother was here until fifteen minutes ago when he’d spotted Griffin sitting alone at the bar. When he’d gone over to talk to him, it’d been clear Griffin hadn’t wanted Tanner hanging around.
But he didn’t know anyone else here except Jess and she was acting weird.
Weirder than usual, anyway.
For one thing, she kept smiling at him. And she touched him, like, all night long. His arm, his hand, his back. She’d even pulled him onto the dance floor when a slow song—one of those ones that sounded like it should be playing at someone’s wedding—came on. Pressed up against him, her hips against his, her arms twined around his neck, her fingers playing with the hair at his nape.
He’d broken out into a sweat and was glad his mom had insisted he wear a suit coat to this thing.
Yeah, he thought, watching her from their table as she made her way back to him, a small plate of food in her hand, she was acting totally un-Jess-like.
And he thought he knew why.
“You should get up there,” she said as she joined him, setting her food on the table. “They’re almost out of those stuffed mushrooms you were inhaling.”
“I’m not hungry.” He winced to realize he sounded like a two-year-old. Cleared his throat. “The line must’ve been long.”
She dragged a large shrimp through the cocktail sauce on her plate. “Not really.”
“You were gone a long time.”
“Aw, did you miss me?” she asked with a look from under her lashes that he couldn’t help think seemed practiced. And contrived.
And a far cry from the way she’d looked at him the last few times they’d hung out—once at his house, twice at her uncle’s. She hadn’t touched him those times, either, hadn’t flirted with him or hung on his every word like she’d done tonight.
“What’s going on?” he asked quietly, ignoring the voice in his head telling him to quit being such a pussy and just enjoy whatever game she was playing. That maybe it would lead to him finally getting laid.
“An engagement party,” she said, her silent duh implied.
He scooted his chair closer to her. “No. I mean what’s going on with you? You’re acting like…”
“Like…?”
He raised a shoulder. Glanced pointedly at the guy standing with a group of thirtysomethings. “Like the only reason you asked me to this party was so you could make that guy jealous.”
She stiffened. “What guy?”
The same guy who’d been in the diner that day Jess finally agreed to hang out with Tanner. The same guy she kept looking at. The one who kept looking back.
“The one with the curly hair,” he said, inclining his head.
She didn’t follow his gaze, just bit into a shrimp. “Anthony and I went out a few times,” she said after she chewed. “It ended.”
“Yeah,” Tanner said softly, watching her carefully, “but is it over?”
She smiled but it was so sad, it felt like he’d just taken an elbow to the gut. “Anthony says it is.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Since when should it matter what I want?” she asked with a harsh laugh. “Look, I’m used to not getting everything I wish for. It’s no big deal. He’s just another guy.”
Tanner wanted to believe that. Wanted to so badly, maybe more than he’d ever wanted anything.
“Besides,” she said, sounding unlike herself again as she leaned toward him and trailed her fingers across his cheek, “I’m with you tonight.”
She slid her hand behind his neck, gently pulled his face toward hers. His heart pounded. She was going to kiss him. Their first kiss, the event he’d been thinking about, hoping for over the past week was finally going to happen in a matter of moments, right there in front of a bunch of people he didn’t know, his brother and very possibly her uncle.
Not to mention Anthony, the guy she wasn’t even close to being over.
“Wait,” he said, leaning back. Her hand fell from his neck and he immediately missed the feel of her warm fingers on her skin, could’ve kicked his own ass for stopping her. “I’m not doing this. Not like this, anyway.”
Her eyes flashed, a hint of color entered her cheeks and she sat back, crossing her arms. “What is your problem?”
Really? Could she be that clueless? “My problem is I don’t like being used.”
She smirked. “Funny but that’s not what you said the other day when I told you we could hang out. Now you’ve what? Changed your mind?”
He stood, looked from her to Anthony—who was watching them, his brows lowered, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his suit pants—and back to her again.
“Yeah,” he said slowly, not sure if choosing his pride over a pretty girl was the smartest choice he’d ever made but unable to do otherwise. “I guess I have changed my mind.” He held her gaze. “About a couple of things.”
And he walked away.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“DUDE,” Tanner said, walking up to Griffin as he shook his mom’s car keys in his hand, “I’m taking off.”
Griffin narrowed his eyes, looked behind the kid to the table where Jess sat by herself, a scowl on her face, her eyes shooting daggers at his brother’s back. “You okay?”
“What do you care?” the kid asked.
Griffin sipped his beer. “I care if you wrap Mom’s minivan around a tree because you’re pissed off at some girl.”
Tanner flushed. “Sorry,” he said, man enough to look Griffin in the eye as he apologized. “I’m fine. I’ve just…had enough, you know?”
Yeah, Griffin thought as Tanner walked away, he did know. He’d had enough, too. Enough of being unable to take his eyes off Nora for more than a minute. Enough of sitting there feeling out of place, of having people send him curious, sidelong glances as if they knew he didn’t belong there.
But he hadn’t left yet, hadn’t wanted to, not when watching Nora
on the dance floor with her sisters kept him entranced. That damn dress of hers floated around her legs like fairies’ wings. She wasn’t the best dancer but there was no discounting how much he enjoyed watching her as she moved to the music, her hips swaying, her arms lifting above her head. Her smile, though not quite as bright as usual, still lit up the room.
He wanted to storm onto the dance floor, toss her over his shoulder and take her to his bed where she could smile at him, and only him. Where he could surround himself with her body, her sense of humor and her kindness and patience. Where he could take whatever she was willing to give.
But he was afraid whatever that was, it wouldn’t be enough for him. Not nearly enough.
“Whew,” she said, when she rejoined him, her hair sticking to the side of her neck, her face flushed, “it’s hot in there.”
In there being the room with the dance floor, the one that opened to the larger dining room. She sipped the ice water she’d switched to over two hours ago when her family had joined them at the table. The same time Griffin had gone to the bar for another beer and had decided to stay there instead of hanging out with a table full of Sullivans.
But she hadn’t said a word, hadn’t begged him to join her family. Had just made herself comfortable on the stool next to his, chattering away about this guest or that, pointing out some of the bigwigs her aunt’s family knew who’d come in from Boston and Martha’s Vineyard and Cape Cod, names he’d heard mentioned in the news or read about in the paper.
Christ, he really didn’t belong here.
The song ended and another started, this one slower and melodic. Nora set her water down and sighed dreamily. “I love this song.” She slid to her feet, smiled and held out her hand. “Come on. Dance with me.”
He ground his back teeth together as he looked at her. “No.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Why not?”
Because he couldn’t be responsible for what he’d do if he touched her, if he held her in his arms, if she pressed those lush curves up against him. Because he was angry and embarrassed and resentful to be around these people with their perfect lives and their perfect pasts.
