He shook his head, his eyes hot. “I am not your mother,” he said, his voice shot with fire. “And I am neither of your brothers and I am sure as hell not Eric.” His hands gripped her arms. “Did you hear me? I love you. You.” He flung out his hand, indicating the lace and the bed. “I love this ridiculous room. I love you as the prison warden and the ice princess and the sexy librarian. I love you as a mother and a granddaughter. I love you for your perfect skin and beautiful face and your body that makes me crazy.” His hands cupped her head, his fingers pulling the fine hairs at the nape of her neck, the pain so sweet. “I love you for your giant brain.”
God, hope was so painful. It was as though her flesh was ice and it was breaking, cold and sharp.
“I love you for your daughter and all your contradictions and complications. But, most of all I love you for your fierce heart.”
She closed her eyes, overcome. Every gate had been stormed, every defense in ruins.
He started to pull at her clothes, unzipping zippers, undoing buttons and she let him. She would take his body, his sex and his love, she’d take it all because she really didn’t believe that once he left he’d ever cross her threshold again. She would hoard those memories for all the lonely days ahead. “I want that fierce heart to love me back,” he said.
It does, she thought but wasn’t foolish enough to say it.
“And I know,” he continued, kissing her collarbone as he undid her bra, her breasts spilling into his hands. “I know that you love me and I’ll be back so you can say it to me.”
She pressed her lips to his, sealing her mouth, preventing herself from saying all the things she shouldn’t.
HOURS LATER, the kitchen was dark and hushed as they sat side by side on the counter, sweat cooling on their bruised and sated bodies.
Matt had no clue what she was thinking. What was happening behind that still and lovely face.
He took another bite of his ham sandwich and wondered why love had to be so hard, why he felt the pull of her body and the push of her heart and why it all had to hurt so much.
His soul lay between them, a naked offering cold and shivering in all this silence.
“Okay,” she said, holding her uneaten sandwich in her lap. She picked at the crust.
“Okay, what?”
Her eyes were damp, tears and moonlight pooling in the corners. Her smile was shaky and nervous, but still the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. “Come back to me.”
It wasn’t love, but it was trust, and maybe that was better. From a woman like Savannah, maybe that was the key to her kingdom.
“Savannah,” he whispered, joy pumping into his body like fuel. “You have—”
The violent shattering of glass destroyed the quiet of the night.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MATT LEAPED OFF THE counter as though it was on fire. Savannah was right beside him, her hand a talon on his arm.
“What—”
“The sleeping porch,” Matt said, turning toward where the crash had come from, adrenaline hammering his system. “Stay here.”
“Like hell,” she muttered and followed him down the dark hallway to the gloomy half-light of the sleeping porch. “So help me,” she whispered, “if it’s Garrett or Owen—”
A small figure, dressed in black from head to toe, crossed the doorway of the sleeping porch, between them and the moonlight.
A ski mask. A flashlight no bigger than a pin.
This was no high-schooler.
He felt the sudden blast of fear roll off of Savannah.
Matt shoved his hand out, pressing her against the wall. She nodded when he looked at her. She’d be quiet. She’d be still.
His fingers traced her cheek for a split second, then he snuck through the shadows of the hallway and stepped into the sleeping porch. The thief was short and thin like a kid—maybe it was a teenager after all. One who’d seen a few too many movies about thieves and knew the costume requirements.
He grabbed the kid’s arm, hauling him close and the kid turned. Matt got the impression of narrowed blue eyes just before the kid hoofed him—hard—right in the crotch.
Matt gasped and hit the floor.
“Savannah.” He tried to gasp in warning, but the thief leaped over him toward the door before he could get out the breath, much less the words.
Forcing himself to swallow the nausea and crushing pain in his groin, he crawled toward the door, pulling himself to his feet in time to see Savannah tackle the thief to the hardwood floor of the hallway.
The thief fought, but Savannah ducked her head to keep her nose and eyes safe and held on tight, her whole body taut with effort.
Fierce wasn’t the half of it.
“Good catch,” Matt said, hauling the thief off Savannah. He wrapped his arm around the kid’s neck to keep him in place then yanked off the ski mask.
Long blond hair fell out around a beautiful and terribly familiar face.
“Mom?” Savannah breathed.
SAVANNAH FELL BACK against the wall, her legs nonexistent. Her whole body eviscerated. She’d stepped down some rabbit hole or something, because looking at her mother was like looking into a mirror. Or into the past. She was unchanged. Her mother stood there, as lovely as the day she left.
As lovely and as cold.
How could this be happening?
Savannah had to shut her eyes and pretend this was a dream. Or that she’d finally lost her mind because there was no way, no way in hell, her mother was back.
And breaking into my home?
Yeah, I hit my head or something. This can’t be happening.
“Hello, Savannah,” Vanessa said. And the voice was real, carved right out of Savannah’s memories. The voice that had read her bedtime stories when she was little. The voice that had sung her songs and scolded her brothers for picking on her.
The voice that had said goodbye and lied.
This was real. This was now.
Rage, bitter and hot, a thousand times stronger than grief, pounded through her.
“Get out of here,” Savannah snapped.
“Whoa!” Matt cried. “Wait a second, let’s get some answers here. Your mother just broke into your house.”
Savannah looked at Matt. She saw the nobility of him and all that love he had for her and wanted to howl. That love was a dream, an illusion.
Her mother was real, standing here after a twenty-year absence.
“She’s not my mother,” Savannah said, nasty and cold. “She’s no one.”
“I’m your daughter’s grandmother,” Vanessa said, such a vicious low blow that Savannah jerked into action, stepping right into her mother’s face.
“You stay away from Katie,” she hissed. Then understanding dawned. “That was you?” she whispered. “That second break-in through Katie’s room?”
“I didn’t even know you had a daughter,” Vanessa said, her eyes suddenly full. “I’m a grandmother and I didn’t know. She’s so beautiful, Savvy. So—”
Savannah reeled back. What was this? Grief? Regret? A thousand strings attached to her stomach yanked and she thought she might be sick.
“You left me,” she stammered. “You walked away. Twenty years ago! You don’t get to cry. You don’t get—”
“I missed you,” Vanessa said. “Every minute of all of those years, I missed you.”
Savannah put her hand to her head, a sudden headache. A sudden desire to scream clawing its way up her throat.
“Then you probably shouldn’t have left,” Matt said. “You probably shouldn’t have abandoned your children.”
“What the hell do you know about it?” Vanessa said, pushing at him, a little snarl replacing those tears.
“I know you don’t leave behind your kids,” Matt said, pushing back. “And then break into their home and make them feel unsafe.”
“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” Vanessa said, her eyes pleading in Savannah’s direction and Savannah wanted to burn down the building with ever
ything she felt. Fires raged inside of her, questions and anger and hurt. Every single thing she thought she’d gotten over was right here as she stared into her mother’s lovely face.
Why did you leave me?
What is wrong with me?
Why does everyone go?
“Savannah,” Vanessa said. “You have to listen to me. There is a fortune in gems hidden in this house. We could find them. You and I. We could—”
“Where have you been?” Savannah interrupted. “All these years?”
Vanessa’s eyes grew colder, harder, the charade of the loving absentee mother falling apart. “Here and there,” Vanessa said, rushing on to add, “But I was always thinking of you. I tried to come back, I tried—”
Savannah felt hollow. Lies. All she’d get from her own mother were lies.
“Why are you here now?” Matt asked.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Vanessa answered.
“My father is Joel Woods,” he said and Vanessa’s eyes flared, her face growing older, uglier every minute.
“Did you steal those gems from Joel and hide them here?” Savannah asked
Vanessa jaw clenched. “No—”
“You’re lying.”
“I swear—”
“Get out!” Savannah yelled. “Get out of here. That man is in jail and he’s twice the person you are. He stayed with his son. Taught him how to play cards and music. Made him macaroni and cheese when he was hungry. What did you do, Mom? Twenty years I waited for you!”
“I swear to you, Savannah. I didn’t steal those gems.”
“I can’t believe a word you say.”
“Fine. Maybe we should wake Margot up and ask her if she knows about the gems,” Vanessa said.
“I’m already awake,” Margot said, in the doorway, cinching the belt on her robe. “And I’ve called the police.”
Vanessa jerked at that, but Matt held on tight.
“I told you, you weren’t welcome in my home,” Margot said. “Twenty years ago I said if you left these children here, you weren’t to come back.”
“They’re my kids!” Vanessa cried.
“Stop pretending you’re here for me!” Savannah yelled. “Stop pretending you care. If you cared, you’d have never left.”
“I had things I had to do, honey,” Vanessa said, looking like every con man that ever was.
As suddenly as it arrived, the rage left Savannah, taking all of her strength, leaving her weak and sad and small. There was no point to this. None at all.
“Matt,” Savannah sighed. “Can you throw her out of my house?”
“Ask her about the gems, Savvy,” Vanessa cried. “Ask Margot about Richard—”
“Richard?” Savannah asked and Matt cleared his throat.
“My father’s partner was Richard Bonavie,” he said quietly.
“My dad?” Savannah cried. “My dad was involved in this and you’re just telling me now?”
Matt’s eyes flickered to Margot and Savannah spun to face her grandmother. “You knew?” she whispered.
“I didn’t think it was relevant,” Margot said.
Savannah’s head nearly exploded.
“You see, Savannah?” Vanessa whispered. “You see how she manipulates? How she lies and turns everything around? Ask her about the gems.” Vanessa laughed. “Better yet, ask your dear grandmother why I never came back. Really. Ask her about the money.”
“Money?” Savannah whispered.
“Ten thousand dollars a year to stay away from my own kids.”
Savannah turned to her grandmother.
“She would have been back every year,” Margot said, fierce, like a too-bright light and Savannah hurt looking at her. “She’d be back and play house with you children. She’d toy with you and then vanish again. It’s what she’d done her whole life. She wasn’t about to change.”
“You didn’t give me a chance,” Vanessa said.
Savannah stared at her grandmother, those familiar eyes. That face she loved so much.
“I did what I thought was best,” Margot said. “And I’d do it again.”
Savannah felt the walls pressing in on her. A thousand pounds on her head, stopping her heart. She could barely breathe. It was impossible to think.
Everyone had betrayed her. Everyone.
“Now,” Vanessa said, “let’s ask her about where she’s hidden the gems.”
“Do you know anything about the gems?” Savannah asked, so weary, so tired she could barely stand.
“Are you honestly going to believe her?” Margot asked.
“And you’re so trustworthy?” she asked. Margot swallowed, shrinking a little and looking more and more her age, which heaped more pain on Savannah’s shoulders.
“I’m so sorry, Savannah,” Margot whispered. “I have always done what I thought was best.”
“So, no gems?” Savannah asked and Margot shook her head.
“She’s lying!” Vanessa cried. “Again! Savannah, listen to me, baby—”
“Matt,” Savannah whispered, “please get my…mother out of here.”
“Out of your house?” he asked. “She broke in looking for those gems. She knows something about the night my father—”
He stopped, blinked. And he grew, right in front of her. Changed. His shoulders suddenly seemed wider, his back straighter and his love for her practically blazed out of his eyes.
She realized what he was doing—curbing his want, his desire for information. He was putting himself on hold, this single-minded man who put his vision aside for no one.
He was putting it aside for her.
She wanted to believe in it, but couldn’t. Couldn’t find the faith.
Don’t, she wanted to say. I can’t repay that. I can’t match that sacrifice. I have nothing to give you.
“You want her gone, she’s gone,” he said.
“Thank you,” she whispered, unable to turn down what he offered so easily when she knew she should.
“Those gems are here, Savannah!” Vanessa yelled as Matt led her out to the front lawn where the cops would soon arrive. “Margot knows something!”
Margot spread her fingers across her belly as if she had a pain. “That woman would have ruined your life.”
“Ruined?” A bubble of hysteria built in Savannah. “And how would that be any different than it is now.”
“I love you,” Margot said. “Every day I’ve loved you more. You’re the daughter—” Margot stopped, tears flooding her eyes, her voice thick. “You’re my daughter.”
Savannah thought about Matt and his father—those weeks of macaroni and cheese and the forgiveness that Matt gave him. Maybe tomorrow she’d find that forgiveness, somewhere. Somehow. But right now she was empty. Nothing but echoes and hurt.
Savannah stepped past Margot without a word.
She climbed up the stairs to her daughter’s room and pressed her hand to the door as if she could feel Katie through the wood. And she could. In her mind she could feel her daughter anywhere.
There was no doubt in her mind that her own mother had never felt that connection. Not once.
But Margot did. Savannah knew, because she felt the same connection to Margot.
Savannah braced her head against the door, exhausted and sore.
The door slid open soundlessly and she crept in, easing herself into Katie’s bed, curling her body around Katie’s body, her own tiny heart.
MATT GAVE HIS STATEMENT to the cops and watched them put Vanessa, snarling like a rabid dog, into the back of a cruiser.
“Thanks, Matt,” Juliette said, stepping beside him so the car could leave. “Tell Savannah I’ll be by tomorrow morning.”
Matt nodded and waited for her to drive away, then he nearly ran to the house, desperate to stop what he saw in Savannah’s eyes.
It was like watching a person bleeding out right in front of you and not being able to stop it. Every second he spent away from her he knew he was losing her. He knew it. He
saw it.
He needed to get to her, to get close, to show her that he was here. That no matter where he went—St. Louis, the North Pole, the moon, he was here for her. His heart was right beside hers. If she’d let him in.
The sleeping porch was empty. The kitchen dark. The light was on under Margot’s door, but he doubted Savannah was there.
His compass told him she was upstairs. Instead of going to her room he went to Katie’s—somehow sensing her need to be close to her baby.
He knocked softly on the door and after a few moments it cracked open, revealing Savannah and her haunted empty eyes.
Speechless in front of all that pain, he reached for her fingers where they curled against the door. One touch and she shifted away, her fingers twitching.
Worry crowded his throat.
“Are you okay?” he asked, hating the stupidity of that question but not knowing where else to start.
She blinked and licked her lips. “Sure,” she lied.
“Savannah. You don’t have to pretend—”
“I’m tired,” she whispered and glanced behind her. “And I don’t want to wake up Katie.”
“Okay.” He wondered how he could even see her, she was so far away.
He waited until she shut the door in his face before hanging his head and retreating to the sleeping porch.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“IT’S STUNNING,” Margot said the next afternoon, her face radiant with a bright smile. Matt felt an insane amount of pride. He was overwhelmed with it, actually. Humbled by it. “It’s so…”
“Totally perfect!” Katie cried, spinning around in a circle, taking in what, Matt had to admit, was a totally perfect courtyard.
The flowers were planted, small hills and valleys of pinks and greens. Roses and hostas. Forget-me-nots, bougainvillaea and birds of paradise. Wisteria, lilac, honeysuckle. It was fragrant to the extreme, and he would never smell another flower without thinking of these women.
The cypress was trimmed and magnificent, the cobblestones replaced by a stunning carpet of green. The wall, barely visible in the back, was strong and would stay that way for a hundred years. The new greenhouse, a kit he’d ordered and modified, gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight.
The Temptation of Savannah O’Neill Page 19
