“I have fond memories of this place,” she said softly, taking in every feature of the beautiful hotel. “Your mother used to let us do our homework in one of the empty guest rooms. We thought that was so cool.”
“She’d be hard-pressed to do that now. There’s rarely a vacancy anymore.”
Sweeping steps led to imposing doors. Though the hotel was impressive on any given day, tonight it was even more so. Two huge Fraser firs, draped in twinkly lights and iridescent stars, stood like sentinels to greet guests as they arrived.
Conor and Ellie joined the snaking line of people and climbed the stairs. The festive air should have been incongruous given the blazing temperatures, but once inside, it was clear that everyone was prepared to get into the holiday spirit.
A uniformed employee stood in the lobby with a silver bucket, receiving donations for Maeve Kavanagh’s favorite charity. Above and across the reception area, a large gold-and-cream banner proclaimed: Christmas in August...’Tis the Season for Giving.
Everywhere, clusters of mistletoe dangled from red velvet ropes, and plaid bows decorated the chandeliers.
Conor took her arm and steered her toward the spot where Maeve Kavanagh held court, welcoming guests and dispensing warmth and cheer. Conor kissed his mother’s cheek. “You’ve got a great crowd,” he said. “Congratulations.” His mother looked beautiful and confident in a burgundy gown that took ten years off her age.
Maeve nodded. “Thank you, dear. I’m delighted my little event has been received so well.”
Conor urged Ellie forward. “You remember Ellie Porter...right?”
Six
Conor watched his mother sum up his date in one all-encompassing glance. “Of course I do. And Kirby, also. I was so sorry to hear about your brother’s accident, Ellie. I hope you’ll give him my regards.”
“I will, Mrs. Kavanagh. Thank you.”
“How is he doing?”
“Better every day. Especially now that he and Conor have reconnected. The two of them are making up for lost time.”
Conor could almost see the wheels turning in his mother’s brain. She considered it a personal triumph that she had successfully married off four sons. Never mind that all of them were grown men with minds of their own. Maeve liked to think she had a hand in their romances.
Conor decided to nip any Cupid-like ideas in the bud. “Ellie and Kirby are only back in Silver Glen until the late spring. Her parents plan to retire and will be coming home at that time to take care of Mr. Porter. After which Ellie and Kirby will be moving on.”
“I see...” Maeve’s expression was one-part curiosity and two-parts Machiavellian intent.
“Mother...”
She lifted an eyebrow, trying to look innocent and failing. “What?”
Ellie seemed confused at the byplay. And guests were stacking up behind them waiting to speak to their hostess.
Conor took Ellie’s arm. “Let’s head on into the ballroom. We’ll catch you later, Mom.”
As they walked away, Ellie stared up at him with long-lashed eyes. “What was that about?”
“My mother feels the need to meddle in my love life.”
“Didn’t you tell her that you have no interest at all in me as a potential romantic liaison? That I’m a grieving widow who needs to be protected from her own dangerous impulses? That you’re noble and stuffy and totally beyond temptation?”
Taking a detour at the last minute, Conor pulled his date into a narrow hallway and glared at her. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m not laughing.” She took a step toward him, close enough now that he could see the tiny freckle on her right cheek. And the fact that her eyes sparkled with hints of green amidst the blue. She put a hand flat on his chest...right over his heart. “You’re a gorgeous, sexy, wonderful man, Conor Kavanagh. The boy I remember has turned into a pretty special human being. I’m happy to be with you tonight.”
Without warning, she went up on tiptoe and kissed him smack on the mouth. Somehow, his hands were around her waist and he was kissing her back. So many emotions. So many nuances.
He recognized the sexual need, a healthy man’s response to having an attractive woman near. He also acknowledged the sweet sensation of holding his teenage fantasy in his arms. But what was more alarming was the sense of homecoming. Of rightness. As if every woman he’d ever known had simply been a placeholder...marking time until the real thing showed up.
The intense, unexpected feelings scared the crap out of him. He wasn’t going to change for any woman. He released her and stepped back, breathing harshly. “I told you this wasn’t going to happen.”
Ellie crossed her arms beneath her breasts, lifting them into mouthwatering prominence, though he was sure she didn’t realize it. “You’re not the boss of me, Conor. We aren’t kids. And I don’t have to take orders from you. I’ve been running my own life just fine.”
“Quit flirting with me,” he demanded, already undressing her in his head. Two things held him back. First, the knowledge of her dead husband. A year and a half wasn’t long enough to work through that kind of grief. And secondly, the memory of how a younger Ellie had judged him and found him wanting.
“Fine,” she said. “You’re my other brother. I get the message. Can we go to the party now?”
She turned her back on him and headed for the ballroom, leaving him to trail in her wake. He was accustomed to being in control of his life. Of charting his own course. But Ellie challenged his preconceptions of her at every turn.
The view from the back didn’t help his resolve. Her long tanned legs and narrow waist showcased a curvy bottom. That red dress had been created by some designer to drive a man insane.
So far, it was working.
He had assumed the ballroom would be neutral territory. Too many people to make any rash decisions based on creamy shoulders and a feminine smile that made him ache.
Ellie’s face lit up when she heard the band. “Oh, this is wonderful,” she said. “I love this song.”
It was a Bing Crosby classic about dreaming and Christmas and yearning for the past. Unfortunately for Conor, it was also a slow dance. He took Ellie in his arms with a sense of fatalism. She fit against him perfectly. Her light perfume teased his nose. But it was the slide of her hair against his hand that did him in. Silky. Thick. Like warm cider on a cold night.
It was a really bad idea to bring Ellie this evening. Too much romance in the air. Too many echoes of auld lang syne.
What did she want from him? If they had talked about Kevin before now, Conor might be more inclined to open up to her. But the fact that her dead husband was carefully sectioned off in a place labeled No Trespassing told him that Ellie had a long way to go before she would be ready to love again. Love didn’t die in a mountain-climbing accident.
Maybe she was secretly furious with her husband for risking his life. And maybe that anger was manifesting itself in a flirtation with Conor.
He didn’t like being used any more than the next man, but it was going to be difficult to say no, even if he really wanted to. Which he didn’t.
Ellie Porter pushed all his buttons. She always had. Which meant that Conor was in a hell of a predicament.
The Bing song ended and another crooner took center stage, again singing a slow, haunting melody. Conor and Ellie hadn’t exchanged a single word since he took her in his arms. If he were a whimsical man, he’d have said they were bound together by the magic of the past...by the years of playing together, studying together, growing up together.
They had so many shared experiences, so much in common when it came to their roots. But beyond that was an entire decade when they’d been on opposite sides of the equator...when life had taken them in each on radically different paths.
Ellie made a small noise, and he pulled back, in
credulous. “Are you crying?” he asked, aghast.
“Of course not.” She frowned at him, but her cheeks were damp.
Before Conor could deal with that information, the first of his brothers cut in. It was a half hour or more before he had a chance to dance with his date again. First came Liam and Dylan. They both remembered Ellie in passing. But they were older and not as familiar with her as Aidan and Gavin, who were closer in school.
Patrick, sixth in the lineup of Kavanagh brothers, also took a turn around the dance floor with Ellie. Only James, the youngest, was not in attendance tonight.
By the time Conor reclaimed Ellie, she professed herself tired and ready to hit the buffet. “I’m starving,” she said. Her cheeks were flushed with color and her eyes sparkled. “That was so much fun. Your brothers are wonderful.”
While Ellie was occupied with the Kavanagh men, Conor had passed the time by dancing with his sisters-in-law, each of whom was very dear to him. Zoe and Mia. Emma and Cassidy. The new additions to the Kavanagh clan were smart, sexy, beautiful women. His brothers were damn lucky.
It irked him that dancing with his siblings had made Ellie happy, while Conor’s greatest achievement was to make her cry. But he kept his disgruntlement to himself.
Over hors d’oeuvres and wine, he studied Ellie when he thought she wasn’t watching. Though she smiled and spoke to a number of people who remembered the Porter family, there was an aura of sadness around her. Conor wondered if he was the only person who noticed.
He sensed in her a fatigue that was more than physical. Perhaps he was seeing evidence of the mental toll she had endured. Some people in her shoes might have experienced a total breakdown. After months of worry and grief and unrelenting work, it was understandable if Ellie was fragile emotionally. And yet, she impressed him as one of the strongest women he had ever known.
He stole a large boiled shrimp from her plate and dipped it in cocktail sauce. “So tell me about life in the jungle,” he said. “It must have been strange and exotic at the same time. Did you eat the local food? Speak the lingo?” Keeping the conversation light and impersonal was his way of coping with the evening.
Ellie nodded, licking a crumb from her lower lip. “Oh, yes. Aside from the fact that provisions were hard to come by, Mom and Dad wanted us to acclimate to the local culture. We became fluent in Spanish and Quechua. We learned how to build a hut out of banana leaves. We knew exactly which insects were harmless and which ones could kill us.”
“I’m impressed. Maybe I should start calling you Jane of the Jungle.”
“Does that mean you can picture me in a leopard-print bikini?” She swallowed a sip of wine and stared him down.
His temper fired along with his libido. “I’m trying damned hard to be a gentleman, Ellie. You’re hurting. I get that. But having a fling with me is only going to make you feel worse.”
She stared at him, spine erect, chin tilted upward the tiniest bit. “It must be lovely to be omniscient. Do you and God triage the world’s problems every morning?”
“You’re a piece of work, do you know that?”
She shrugged. “My husband is gone, Conor. I’m pretty clear about that. And I’ll be gone from Silver Glen in no time at all. I have a baby who will never know his father and a brother who’s struggling as much as I am. Is it so wrong for me to want you?”
Conor felt helpless and confused. The last time he’d felt this level of anxiety was in the aftermath of his horrific accident. Even now he could remember the moment he heard a dreadful pop in his knee and ended up facedown in the snow with one leg bent at an inhuman angle.
Surviving that moment in his life had been no small achievement. He’d hung on, because the alternative had been unthinkable. And he’d known he was right to let Ellie go, because he was not able to change the basic core of who he was. For years as a kid he’d watched his mother try to keep tabs on her gadabout husband.
The end of that struggle had meant heartbreak for everyone. Conor had learned a valuable lesson. He had to be who he was.
Now, here with Ellie, he felt a similar torture. Did he want her? Hell yes. But he couldn’t get past the fact that she was acting out of desperation. He owed it to her to be the smart one this time. To make wise decisions.
He took one of her hands in his, not caring that they might have witnesses. “Will you tell me about Kevin?” he asked softly, trying in every way he knew how to communicate his compassion and his concern for her.
Ellie jerked free and wiped her hands on a snowy linen napkin. “No,” she said. “I won’t. This is a Christmas party, Conor. Your timing leaves a lot to be desired.”
“It’s August, not December. And you’re putting a wall between us. I don’t like it.”
“Is that a requirement? You have to like everything I do?”
She was stubborn and angry and totally adorable. He chose his words carefully. “Maybe it’s petty of me, but I’m not crazy about the idea of standing in for a dead man.”
The shock on her face was almost instantly replaced by another expression. He saw in that moment she had never considered the possibility his mind might go in another direction.
She swallowed hard. Her hand trembled when she carefully pushed her plate aside. They were seated at a table in an out-of-the-way corner. It was doubtful they could be overheard. But she lowered her voice and leaned forward. “I’m embarrassed, Conor, that you would even think that. If we end up in bed together, I’ll know exactly who I’m with. I’m lonely and sad and it’s been so long since I’ve been touched sexually that I probably won’t remember what to do, but I’ll know you. It’s you I want.”
“Why?” he asked bluntly.
She shook her head, her eyes bleak. “I’m a single mom. I have no desire to go out and cruise bars. The chance of any man wanting to marry me knowing it’s a package deal with Emory is slim. But I’m young and healthy and I have needs like any other woman. You’re very special to me. I care about you. And I trust you. I think being with you in that way would be...well...”
She stumbled to a halt, the color in her cheeks rivaling her dress.
Conor bowed his head. When he finally looked up at her, he caught a flicker in her eyes that made his heart race. “Are you sure, Ellie? I don’t want to hurt you. Things ended badly between us the last time.”
This time it was her small hand that closed on his bigger one. Though her touch was light, he felt it all the way to his gut. His sex stirred even as his breath hitched in his chest.
“I’m sure, Conor. Very sure. But if you’re not, we won’t take this any further.” She glanced around the room, restlessness in her body language. “Why don’t we dance again?”
It seemed like a good idea. A socially acceptable way for him to be close to her while he sorted through the pitfalls he could see in front of them.
The room was crowded and loud. Despite what the calendar said, a holiday air permeated the assembly. The massive fireplaces at either end of the large salon were filled with pots of foil-wrapped poinsettias instead of roaring flames. Conor hadn’t the slightest idea how his mother had managed to pull that off in the midst of summer.
Everyone seemed to be dancing—young and old...talented and awkward. Maeve Kavanagh had always possessed the gift of hospitality. Whether she threw a kid’s birthday or a fancy affair, it was guaranteed to be a success.
The crush of partygoers made it necessary for Conor to hold Ellie close or risk having someone step on her. If he closed his eyes, this might have been many years ago. Kirby and Ellie had often attended special occasions at Silver Beeches. The first time Conor had ever danced with her, he had been fourteen years old. Having a girl in his arms, any girl, would have been plenty of stimulation for an adolescent boy. But since the girl was Ellie, well...he could be excused for fantasizing about that night for weeks to come.
&
nbsp; And now here they were.
For a lot of men, this would be the perfect setup. Two adults indulging in a mutually satisfying sexual relationship. No expectations. No strings. No future. Conor had participated in a few such liaisons over the years. And never with repercussions.
But Ellie came with a whole laundry list of repercussions. Kirby’s reaction, for one. For the first time in over a decade, Conor had his old friends back in his life. And it was pretty damn great. What would happen to their triangle if Conor took Ellie to his bed?
Then there was little Emory. Ellie needed to be on the lookout for a man who wanted an instant family...a man who would look forward to coaching Little League and shepherding Boy Scouts. Conor knew next to nothing about babies. He was learning from the additions to his brothers’ families, but that didn’t mean he was a fit parent.
In the end, though, his approach to life was what took him out of the running. Shouldn’t Ellie wait for the one? Having sex with Conor would only postpone her chances to rebuild a life for her and her son.
Ellie rested her head on his shoulder, disarming him completely. All of his mental gyrations were nothing more than a smokescreen easily blown away. If Ellie wanted to be wild and irresponsible, was he really going to stop her?
She felt right in his arms, despite what his brain told him. He needed to have this time with her, even if he was still the same kind of man she hadn’t wanted in the past.
Ellie curled a hand behind his shoulder and touched the place where his hair met his neck. His barber had done a good job. “I can almost hear you thinking,” she said. “Chill out. Relax. It’s Christmas.” Her fingertips on his skin were like fire.
He laughed, but he wasn’t really amused. It was easy to pretend for one night. Christmas was about dreams and special wishes and sharing love.
But tonight wasn’t December 25, and he and Ellie weren’t talking about love. That was something she had shared with her husband, marked by a wedding ring and vows. ’Til death do us part. Never had that phrase seemed so starkly real.
Second Chance with the Billionaire Page 6
