"Monday." She reached behind her, searching for his hand, and Jamie entwined his fingers with hers. But she resisted, clasping his hand to draw him forward, then letting him go. "Rose, this is Jamie Evans. He's doing the remodeling at my office. Jamie, this is my sister, Rose Donovan."
"Very nice to meet you," Jamie said, handing her the bottle of wine he'd brought.
"You too, Jamie." Rose studied him, as if she could tell what he and her sister had been doing, and he shifted his feet. Finally she smiled and took his hand. "Wonderful to have you here." It felt as if he'd passed a test of some sort.
"Are we the first ones here?" Helen asked. He thought she sounded hopeful.
"Of course not. They're all in the kitchen, fighting over the antipasto. Come in before it's all gone."
There were four men and a woman in the kitchen, drinking wine and eating olives, artichoke hearts and cheese from a large plate. He'd met Connor and Quinn and Mia. The other two men looked like their brothers – same blue eyes, same black hair. All five of them turned to watch as he stepped into the kitchen behind Helen.
"Hey," Quinn said, glancing at Helen. "You brought him." Holding out his hand, he said, "Good to see you, Evans." He grinned at Helen. "I think this is the first time you actually listened to me."
"No." Connor shook his head. "There was that other time when you were about twenty. You told her not to mix vodka with orange soda, and she promised she never would."
"I've been trying to forget that evening."
Connor shook his hand, then Mia. Then the brother who looked the most serious stuck out his hand. "I'm Mac. This is Brendan." He waited until Jamie had shaken Brendan's hand. "How'd you meet Helen?"
"I'm doing the repair work on her office," Jamie said easily. "We'd met once before, briefly. We're getting re-acquainted."
Mac studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Welcome."
Before he could say anything, Helen stepped up to Mac and pushed her index finger into his chest. "I know what you're thinking, Mr. FBI agent. There will be no background checks." She leaned in until her nose was inches from Mac's. "Are we clear on that?"
A muscle twitched in Mac's jaw, and he finally nodded once. "Yeah."
"I'll find out if you do, you know. And hell will rain down upon you."
"What are you going to do, kick me with that boot?"
Helen smiled. "Won't even have to do that. I just have to wait until you bring someone to dinner."
"Fine." Mac scowled. "I won't run him."
"Damn straight you won't." Mia shouldered in next to Helen. "Us women are outnumbered in this family, but we're more devious. So watch your step, Mac."
Brendan leaned against the counter, a faint smile on his mouth. Helen turned to him. "What?"
"I'm thinking I can torture the guy as much as I want. Because your threat doesn't mean anything to me. I won't be bringing anyone to dinner."
Rose patted her youngest son's face. "You just sealed your fate, Bren."
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Sorry, Ma. I'm a happy bachelor."
Jamie leaned into Helen as he watched the family interact. His family used to be this way, too – talking trash to each other, shifting allegiances, constant poking. Still were, when they got together. Which wasn't often enough.
Rose nudged him. "Doesn't look like they're scaring you away."
He wasn't about to tell her, but nothing could scare him away from Helen. "Reminds me of my family. There are four of us, and we're the same way when we get together."
"Good," Rose said happily. "You and my Helen have a lot in common, then."
He hoped they'd have a lot more in common in the future. Possibly even a last name. "We're still getting to know one another."
"I'm so happy she brought you to dinner." Without waiting for an answer, she herded everyone toward the dining room. "Let's eat before my manicotti dries out."
***
Helen was quiet as he drove toward her apartment. They'd been spending most nights there because his security system consisted of a lock. Probably a cheap one, at that. It was on the house when he'd bought it, and he'd never bothered to change it.
"I like your family a lot," he finally said.
She nodded without looking at him. "Yeah, they're great. They weren't even too hard on you."
"Except for Mac. He really wanted to do a background check on me."
That made her glance at him and smile. "He won't."
Jamie shrugged. "Wouldn't matter if he did. He wouldn't find anything."
"But wouldn't it bother you? It would piss me off if someone did that to me."
"I don't think I have to worry about it. You and Mia straightened him out."
"Yeah. The women stick up for each other."
"The two of you and your sister are kind of scary together. I'm looking forward to getting to know them better. All of the Donovans, actually."
If they hadn't been stopped at a red light, he wouldn't have been watching her. He wouldn't have seen the way her shoulders tensed.
She didn't say anything more until they turned onto her block. When he parked his truck as close to her building as he could, she swung around in the seat. "Jamie, we have to talk."
Chapter 9
Helen clung to his hand as they walked toward her building, but she kept her gaze on the sidewalk. It worried him. She wasn't a clingy woman.
And since the night of the fight, she'd been far more open with him. Comfortable. As if she was enjoying being with him as much as he loved being with her.
Almost as if she loved him, too.
He didn't know what was bothering her, but he tightened his grip, determined to reassure her. He'd thought the afternoon went well. He liked her family and after the first few minutes of chest thumping and alpha-male posturing, he and the Donovans had gotten along great.
Or so he'd thought.
She untangled her fingers from his to unlock her door, but didn't reclaim his hand as they ascended the stairs. That was new, too. In the past few days, they hadn't been able to keep their hands off each other.
He was pretty sure Helen wasn't leading him up to her apartment to have her wicked way with him. The words 'we have to talk' were never a sign of impending sex.
She unlocked her door and walked in without waiting for him to follow. He locked the door slowly, listening to the thump of her boot as she headed for the back door in the kitchen. That was their routine – walk in, check the locks, make sure everything was the way they'd left it.
Usually it was accompanied by talk and laughter.
Tonight's silence was unnerving.
She stayed in the kitchen longer than was necessary to check the door. When she headed back toward the living room, she walked slowly. As if she was dreading the coming conversation.
Her face was pale when she reached him, but at least she met his gaze. He couldn't read a thing in the blue depths of her eyes, but she reached out her hand for his. "Let's sit down, Jamie."
He settled himself on the couch, staying as close to her as possible. She tried to remove her hand from his grasp, but he tightened his grip. Whatever she was going to say, she would do it while connected to him.
"I'm not being fair to you," she finally said.
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I'm being selfish. I've loved the past week – spending time with you, getting to know you." She squeezed his hand. "I never knew sex could be like that. Like what we have together."
"Ditto, Helen. I feel the same way. So what's the problem?"
"I told myself I'd take a month. Enjoy you and what we have together. But the more time I spend with you, the more I don't want to let go. After a month, it'll be almost impossible."
"Why would you worry about letting me go? And what's with the month thing? I want to be with you for a lot more than a month."
"I know," she whispered, her hand tightening on his. "But you want things I can't give you."
"What things?" he asked, mystifi
ed. He had no idea where she was going with this.
"A family," she said, her voice so low he barely heard her. "Kids. You've told me more than once that you want kids. And you should have kids. You'll be a wonderful father."
"Why is that a problem?"
"I can't have kids."
His heart stopped for a moment. "What do you mean?" he finally asked.
She drew her hand away from his. "I got pregnant when I was sixteen." She swallowed. "That's when I moved in with Rose and Tom. I was a wild child, and I fought with my parents constantly." She shook her head. "Years of therapy made me realize I was trying to get my parents' attention, and I did it in all the wrong ways."
His heart ached for the pain he heard in her voice. "Everyone makes mistakes, Helen. I'm not going to judge you. I've made plenty of my own mistakes."
"Not like this one." A tear trailed down her cheek and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. "While I was trying to figure out what to do, I had a miscarriage."
"I'm sorry," he murmured.
She stared at their joined hands. "I wasn't sure if I was sad or relieved. Which made me realize I was completely not ready to become a mother."
"A miscarriage at sixteen doesn't mean you can't have children later."
"I know that." She let him go and clasped her hands together in her lap. Her fingertips were white where they pressed against her knuckles.
"Why do you think you can't have children, then?"
"It's what the doctor said," she whispered. "He'd been our family physician for years – he took care of Rose when she was a baby, then me. He examined me after the miscarriage, and told me he'd be surprised if I could ever have children." A single tear dripped onto her joined hands.
Oh, God. Poor Helen. "Why? What happened?"
"He thought I had the miscarriage because I had a weak cervix."
"You've had it checked since then, right?"
She shrugged one shoulder. "I told my OB-Gyn. She said it looked fine, but they couldn't tell until I was actually pregnant."
"So you're not sure if you can have kids or not," he said carefully.
She jumped up from the couch and paced to the window. "I probably can't. That's what's important."
He stood up and walked to where Helen stood, her arms wrapped around her waist. He slid his hands beneath her arms and drew her against him. "Aren't you jumping the gun a little?" he murmured into her ear. "We've known each other for a week, Helen. One week. And you're dumping me because you know I want kids and you think you can't have them." He pressed his mouth against her neck, tasted her salty-sweet skin.
"I like you, Jamie. I like spending time with you. I like having sex with you." She swallowed, and he felt her muscles ripple against his mouth. "But seeing you so comfortable with my family, so happy when you're talking about kids and big families – I can't let this go any farther. I can't take that dream away from you."
He couldn't tease her about this. Couldn't laugh at her. Helen was serious. She meant every word she was saying. "How old are you, Helen?"
"Thirty-four." She swallowed again.
"So it's been almost twenty years since you lost your baby. A lot has changed since then. I'm not going to let you dump me when neither of us has any idea whether you can have kids or not."
"Even if I can have kids – I'm thirty-four years old. I could have a couple. But not a houseful. That's what you said you wanted."
Yeah, he had. He adored kids and wanted a family. "So you think I'm going to dump you?" He was crazy about her. And if they found out she couldn't have kids, there were other options.
He didn't just want sex with Helen. He wanted a future with her. A future they would figure out together.
"I think it would be best if you left now," she said. But a tear streaked down her cheek.
"I don't," he said calmly. He turned her in his arms, held her shoulders as he studied her devastated expression. "Do you really want me to go? To walk away and never see you again?"
"It would be best."
"Not what I asked. Is that what you want?"
She bit her lip to hold back a sob. "Of course it's not what I want. But better now than a month or six months or a year from now. Better to make a clean break and move on."
"Better for who, Helen?"
"For you, of course."
"I don't get a say in this decision?"
"I'm trying to make it easy for you."
This wasn't the Helen he knew. There was something else going on. He pressed his fingers into her waist. "What aren't you telling me?"
"What?" She lifted her chin. "You don't think this is a big enough deal? That I might not be able to have kids?"
"I think that's lawyerly deflection." He cupped her cheek with one hand. "Tell me, Helen."
"There's nothing more." But she wouldn't meet his eyes.
"Okay." He brushed his mouth over hers. "I can wait. I'm not going anywhere."
Her shoulders sagged as if she'd been holding herself upright through the force of her will. "Better for you if you did," she said quietly.
"I don't think so." He drew her close and wrapped his arms around her. She nestled into him, and he wondered if she realized it. Realized how instinctively her body sought his. "I've waited a long time for you, Helen. If you think I'm going to run at the first sign of trouble, you don't know me very well."
"I know you well enough to know what you want."
"You have no idea what I want." He wanted her. And he was pretty sure she wanted him. He kissed her, deepening the kiss as she moved against him. When she moaned into his mouth, he swept her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. If his words couldn't convince her, he'd let his body persuade her.
He didn't want to let her go long enough to strip her clothes away, but he needed to get that sundress off her. It had fluttered around her legs all day, taunting him with the curves it revealed. Its low neck had hinted at her cleavage, the dark valley between her breasts that he needed to taste.
He managed to lower the top of the dress with one hand, ignoring the tiny tearing sound he heard as he slipped the strap over her shoulder. Beneath the dress, she wore a strapless bra that did nothing to hide the swell of her breasts.
"God, Helen," he groaned as he eased it down to expose her perfect breasts. When he put his mouth to her skin, she tasted like afternoon sunlight, as if she'd absorbed it through her skin and pores and held it inside until he released it in the dark.
His mouth followed the bodice of the dress as he slid it to her waist. When he couldn't tug it further, she sat up and yanked his shirt over his head. Buttons popped and hit the hardwood floors with soft plinks. As she tossed it away, she pressed her mouth to his skin, licking and sucking until he groaned again.
"Dress. Off," he managed to say.
She drew his hand to her back and he found the zipper. It hummed as he yanked it lower, until he could draw the filmy material of the dress over her hips.
She lay before him in a scrap of lace and her bra twisted beneath her breasts. He sucked in a breath, then fumbled over her back to release the bra. He felt like a clumsy teen, undressing a girl for the first time, but he couldn't get her clothes off fast enough. He needed to show her what she meant to him. How much he wanted her. That he was never going to let her go.
Before he could strip away her panties, she'd wrapped her legs around his waist, tugging him against her. "Jamie."
Her voice was high and reedy. Desperate. Almost as desperate as he was. He fumbled off his pants, ripped away her panties and surged into her.
There was no finesse to the way he made love to her. There was nothing but need, hot and brutal and demanding. She didn't seem to mind. When he thrust into her, she thrust back. Every stroke brought him closer and closer to release. Every stroke made her moan and hold on more tightly.
"Jamie," she gasped, her hips bucking wildly into him. "I'm so close. I need...aaah. Yes. Oh, God, Jamie."
She arched her back and gr
ipped him more tightly, then flung her head back and screamed as she came.
Her muscles clenched him so tightly that he followed her, unable to hold off, unable to let her ride out her climax.
Finally they collapsed together on her bed, legs twined together, his arms banded around her. She clung to him just as tightly.
"Not leaving, Helen," he panted into her ear. "Can't leave."
He felt her tense beneath him. "Don't leave," she whispered. "Stay the night."
Wasn't what he'd meant. But he didn't want to fight about it tonight. All he wanted was to hold her close as they slept and wake up next to her in the morning.
It was still dark when the ringing of a phone woke him. Helen slid off of him – he was pretty sure she'd been lying sprawled across him – and rolled over to reach for her phone. Propping herself on one elbow, she pushed the button.
Her hand gripped the sheet beside her as she said, "Melinda. What's wrong?"
Chapter 10
"He's driving past the house," her client whispered.
Helen shivered. She snatched the sheet and wrapped it around herself. "Have you called the police?"
"What if they don't believe me?"
Helen squeezed the phone so tightly she was afraid it would shatter. "Call the police, Melinda. You have to document this."
"What if I'm wrong?"
"Do you think you're wrong?"
There was a long pause. "No," she finally said. "I didn't recognize the car, but he's been past the house four times in the last hour. He slowed down every time."
"For God's sake, call the police!" She grabbed the paper and pen she kept next to her bed, scribbled down Melinda's name, address and phone number and handed it to Jamie. She mimed phoning as she listened to her client tell her why she didn't want to call the police, and Jamie nodded. He walked out of the bedroom, stark naked, and Helen caught herself watching him. She closed her eyes. Focus on your client.
"Are you going to hang up and call the police?" she demanded.
"I'll see if he comes by again," Melinda hedged.
Helen curled her fingers into the bed. "Melinda, I'm going to call them myself. It's my duty as an officer of the court – if I suspect someone is in danger, I have to act. Do you understand?"
Love Me (The Donovan Family Book 1) Page 7
