The Secret Son's Homecoming

by Helen Lacey

  “I figured you’d be a cat person.”

  She relaxed a fraction. “Nope. Four dogs. And a goldfish.”

  “No boyfriend?”

  “No,” she replied, stunned that he’d asked her something so personal. “You?”

  His mouth twisted. “I like girls.”

  Connie chuckled. “I meant, no girlfriend?”

  “Haven’t we already established that I came to this wedding stag? Remember how I forgot to RSVP?”

  “I thought you did that simply to stick it to the O’Sullivans,” she suggested. “You know, to prove that they don’t own you.”

  His mouth curled at the edges. “I really do have a bad reputation.”

  “Yes,” she said. “You do.”

  “You know, Connie, I’m not all bad.”

  The way he unexpectedly said her name again made her toes curl. He had seduction imprinted in his DNA, she was certain. “Time will tell, I suppose. And I really need to get back to the party.”

  “Hoping to catch the bouquet?”

  Her breath hiked up. “No. Have to give the band their final payment.”

  “So, doing O’Sullivan bidding right until the end?”

  Her temper quickly returned. “Doing my job. See you later. Or not at all. Either would suit me just fine.”

  By the time she made it back down the hallway, Connie had slowed down her breathing and calmed her nerves. Other than that crazy night, it was the longest and most in-depth conversation she’d had with him in ten months. He tried so hard not to fit in with his family, when the truth was that he was actually more like them than he’d ever admit. Particularly Liam and J.D., who were both confident and self-assured and strong. Jonah possessed those qualities in spades. And something else...an aura of don’t mess with me arrogance that, rather than having her running for hills, was sexy and thrilling and somehow a powerful turn-on. She secretly liked that about him, that he didn’t roll over and do what was expected. While her allegiance would always be with the O’Sullivans, she admired his determination not to take the easy route and try to fit in without complaint. Of course, her feelings were illogical. He openly resisted getting close to his family and her loyalty to them made it impossible for her to excuse his behavior.

  But her dreams were a different story. In them, she could want him without explanation. She could watch as he slew dragons with his indifference and determination to remain aloof and apart from the people with whom he shared blood and birthright.

  I’ve read way too many romantic novels.

  But didn’t every woman have the right to fall for a Heathcliff every now and then?

  It wasn’t as though he was marriage material. It was a fantasy. A secret longing for a man who possessed brooding sexiness in abundance, and probably had ice water in his veins. And Connie tended to doubt she’d ever get married, anyhow. Maybe marriage wasn’t in her makeup. She’d become a career woman through necessity and felt safe in her cocoon of work, home, friends...and the O’Sullivans. Working at the hotel since she was sixteen had shaped her path; being Liam’s assistant for the past five years and working for J.D. before that had given her purpose and strength and empowerment—everything she’d so desperately needed. Jonah was wrong—she wasn’t a doormat. She did everything with a measure of control and commitment, obliging others because that was her choice.

  My choice to say yes.

  My choice to say no.

  Survivor’s code, ingrained into the very fiber of her soul. Without it, she would have frayed at the seams until there was nothing left of who she’d been before that terrible day when her life had irrevocably changed.

  “What are you doing, hiding out in here?”

  Connie swiveled on her heels, realizing she’d ended up in the kitchen and that J. D. O’Sullivan was hanging out behind the countertop, drinking what appeared to be antacid. A lot of people considered him to be loud and blustery and arrogant—and perhaps he was—but Connie also knew he was compassionate and generous and kind, even if he didn’t always allow the world to see it. He had a reputation for speaking his mind and had no tolerance for fools. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Yes, Jonah Rickard was more like his father than he would ever willingly admit.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” she said and winked.

  “Damn ulcer is acting up,” he admitted and held up the glass. “I thought this might help.”

  It occurred to her that it probably wasn’t something he’d openly acknowledge, but Connie had arranged for more than one specialist appointment for J.D. over the years.

  “Spicy food, stress and alcohol,” she reminded him. “You know the drill...they’re all off the menu.”

  He shrugged his giant shoulders. “Well, the food and booze I can easily give up. The stress is the hard one.”

  “I don’t imagine being back in this house is helping,” she offered gently, recalling how he’d been kicked out of the ranch by his very angry wife over ten months earlier. Now he lived permanently at the hotel, despite both Liam and Kieran offering to have him come live with them. But Connie knew J.D. was too proud and stubborn to hang on to the fringes of his son’s lives. “I know Kieran is happy you are here today.”

  “I wouldn’t let my son down,” he said and then smiled ruefully. “I’ve done enough of that lately.”

  “Kieran has a big capacity for forgiveness. So does Liam,” she added gently.

  “But not Sean and Jonah,” he said. “Right?”

  Connie half shrugged. “I don’t know either of them as well,” she replied and figured it was the truth. Sean had lived in Los Angeles for over a decade, and Jonah was, well...Jonah. “But I’m sure they’ll all come around.”

  “Maybe Sean,” he said hopefully. “Jonah, however, is another story altogether.”

  “I’m sure he’s not as difficult as he makes out.”

  J.D. laughed and it crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Ha, you’ve met my youngest son, right?”

  Met him. Touched him. Kissed him. Dreamed of him.

  Connie swallowed hard. “Sometimes people say and do things they don’t mean to cover up how they really feel, and so they don’t appear vulnerable. Perhaps that’s it. Maybe he’s afraid to show you how he really feels.”

  “I know how he really feels,” J.D. said and winced. “He hates me.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t.”

  “He does,” J.D. said. “And there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  Jonah.

  Connie turned her head and saw him standing in the doorway. She noticed that J.D.’s broad shoulders sagged slightly and saw sadness in the older man’s expression. There was nothing but resentment and bitterness emanating from Jonah, and it was aimed directly at his father.

  And at her.

  * * *

  Jonah was so furious he couldn’t stand being in his own skin. J.D. and Connie, talking about him in hushed voices behind his back as though it was everyday conversation. And maybe it was. Maybe he was the usual topic of conversation for the whole damned family, or the whole damned town!

  But that didn’t mean he had to like it, or allow it. J.D. had done enough damage over the years.

  “Have you both finished dissecting me?” he demanded.

  “We were just—”

  “I know what you were doing,” he shot back, glaring at the other man, not daring to look toward Connie. “And I want it to stop.”

  The silence was suddenly deafening. Every time he was near J.D., his resentment fired up; every time he thought about the man who’d so recklessly become involved with his mother, Jonah experienced an acute sense of loathing and rage. It never abated, not in all the years since he was old enough to understand the situation. Kathleen had left Cedar River—left her family—so she could have her baby i
n secret and not blow the O’Sullivan empire apart. He understood his mother’s motives, and he respected them, but he hated J.D. and everything he stood for—his dishonesty, his betrayal, his lack of integrity and honor—and vowed he would never demonstrate those qualities. Vowed to become a better man than J. D. O’Sullivan.

  “Jonah, I think your dad just meant that—”

  “Don’t call him that,” he growled, meeting her gaze for the first time since he’d entered the room. She blanched, and he registered a sharp feeling of guilt somewhere through the haze that was his rage. “This situation has nothing to do with you... It’s about him and me and my mother. Please stay out of it.”

  “I can’t do that,” she said and he watched as her throat rolled over convulsively. “I care too much about your family and I won’t see them hurt...not by anyone.”

  “Connie,” J.D. said quickly. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

  “That’s good advice,” Jonah shot back and glared at Connie, suddenly mesmerized by the way she glared back, not giving an inch. “You should take it.”

  She took a long breath. “You know something,” she said quietly, her chin held at a tight angle. “You really don’t deserve them.”

  It was a deliberate and cutting remark. Then she said goodbye to J.D. and left the room, ignoring Jonah completely. But he felt damned by the trace of her perfume that floated past him as she disappeared through the doorway. Jonah cursed his own stupidity before turning to glare at the other man in the room.

  “She’s quite a girl,” J.D. said and half smiled. “Don’t you think?”

  “I’d rather not speculate.”

  “That’s reassuring,” he replied. “She’s a nice young woman and shouldn’t be messed with.”

  Jonah almost laughed out loud. “I have no intention of messing with Miss Bedford,” he said, ignoring the twitch in his stomach. “She’s way too invested in your family. Actually, I’m not sure if it’s you or Liam that she’s infatuated with.”

  J.D. laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Liam’s happily married and I’m old enough to be her father.”

  “We all know your weakness for younger women.”

  The older man’s smile disappeared. “I was thirty-one when I fell in love with your mother. She was eighteen. That’s not exactly a lifetime between us.”

  Jonah wanted to cover his ears. He’d heard the story countless times. J.D. had fallen for Kathleen. They had an affair. She got pregnant. J.D. wanted to come clean and admit to his adultery, but Kathleen had persuaded him to remain in Cedar River and stay with his family while she gave up everything...for him.

  Yeah, he knew the story...knew his mother, too, had made her choices over the years. But he still blamed J.D. entirely for taking advantage of a much younger woman.

  “I don’t want to have this conversation again,” Jonah said quietly, harnessing his emotions as best he could.

  “At this stage, I’ll take any conversation I can get.”

  Jonah scowled. “Why the hell would you want to?”

  “Because you’re my son.”

  He winced. “You know I’m not interested in being anything to you.”

  J.D. nodded. “I know.”

  “But you still keep coming back for more of the same?” He shook his head. “I don’t understand it.”

  J.D. placed his big hands on the counter. “Well, I’m hoping that one day, you just might.”

  Jonah ignored the odd sensation suddenly seeping through his blood. He didn’t want to spend time with J.D. He didn’t want to waste time listening to platitudes about fathers and sons.

  “I’ve gotta go,” he said and fished his car keys from his pocket, thinking he’d had just about enough wedding nonsense and happy family time for one day. He needed the solitude of his apartment. Well, technically it was Kieran’s apartment, but he’d been bunking there off and on since his mother had moved back to Cedar River. Sometimes he stayed at the hotel, but with J.D. now in residence there, the less time he spent at O’Sullivans, the better.

  Jonah left the room and headed outside. He offered a quick goodbye to the bride and groom, knowing it was bad form to leave the ceremony before they did, and tried to shake off the guilt he felt as he drove home. The huge Victorian house, which had been split into several apartments, greeted him with the kind of quiet, uncomplicated seclusion he favored. Okay...so maybe that was a stretch. It wasn’t as though he longed for his own company. He’d always had a circle of friends and coworkers and socialized as much as the next person. In Portland he still had a few close friends from college and enjoyed their company. But regularly visiting South Dakota had been a no-brainer. He wasn’t about to let his mother wade through her past without him close at hand. She needed him. He had a spacious and modern apartment in Portland, a vast contrast with the old-fashioned Victorian, with its shuttered windows and mix of old and new furnishings. Before Kieran had leased the place, it had been Kayla’s home. Sometimes he felt stifled by the familial connection to the apartment, but it was convenient and the rent was reasonable.

  Once he got home, Jonah ditched the suit, took a shower, changed into jeans, a sweater and lined jacket, pulled on his boots, made coffee and headed outside onto the small terrace. Tomorrow was Sunday and he planned on visiting his mother, but before that he had to drop by the hotel to catch up with Liam about the proposed extension plans for the local museum and art gallery. Kayla was the curator and Liam had provided most of the funding for the council-approved extension. Jonah knew he’d been offered the contract to solidify the family connection...but it was good business and he was no fool.

  Once he finished the coffee, Jonah went back inside, grabbed a beer from the fridge and slumped onto the sofa. He grabbed the remote, flicked through a few channels and settled on a NASCAR event. The mindless drone of engines relaxed him and he settled back, perched his feet on the coffee table and dropped his head back and closed his eyes. He had the vague thought that he was done with weddings for a while. He’d never had any interest in getting married himself—at least, not yet. He’d never had a long-term relationship—no doubt a hang-up from his father’s lack of commitment to his wife and the double life he’d led for the past thirty years.

  When he woke up it was two in the morning. He had a crick in his neck, the beer was untouched on the table and the neighbor’s cat was curled up on the sofa beside him. The damned feline often sneaked in and made himself comfortable on Jonah’s sofa, bed or lap. He belonged to the elderly woman in the downstairs apartment and was notorious for getting into trouble. Jonah had already rescued the cat twice when he’d gotten caught on top of the gazebo in the backyard.

  Jonah got up, stretched out his limbs and then headed to bed. When he finally awoke it was past eight and he drank two cups of strong coffee to clear the fuzziness in his head, a feeling he blamed on the half a glass of celebratory wine he’d sipped at the reception and the resentment still churning in his gut. He dressed, made toast he didn’t eat and then headed into town.

  Sunday mornings in Cedar River were quiet, except for the tourists milling at the few open coffeehouses and the bakery on Main Street. Of course, the hotel was open, and he pulled into a reserved space next to his brother’s recognizable Silverado. He drove a sedan when he was in town, mostly to annoy J.D., who insisted he needed an SUV and kept offering to buy him one to replace the Jeep Jonah had sold the minute he’d started college. Jonah headed for the main doors and the concierge greeted him by name. His connection to the O’Sullivan family was known around town and he couldn’t deny it at the hotel. Still, as he walked through the place, he experienced a familiar and acute sense of dishonor about who and what he was. It was J.D.’s shame, but in Cedar River, he always felt as though he wore it like a cattle brand.

  The hotel was impressive and luxurious and as good as any found in a large city. It employed dozens of locals and the servi
ce was exemplary, no doubt due to Liam being at the helm. Apparently he’d turned the place around in the last five years, developing it into a true boutique destination, and it was hard not to admire his half brother’s business acumen.

  Jonah strode across the lobby and caught the elevator to the third floor and the private suite of offices. He used his swipe card to reach the top floor. Liam’s office took up a significant section, plus there were several suites kept available for family and a few corporate offices and a conference room.

  He walked through the front office and spotted Connie sitting at her desk, her head bent, her fingers flicking quickly over the computer keyboard.

  “It’s Sunday,” he said and stopped. “Since when do you work on Sunday?”

  She looked up, her face expressionless, and clearly expecting to see him. “Liam had to step out for a bit. He’ll be back in about twenty minutes.” She got up and came around the desk, a folder in her hands. “He asked if you could look over this while you wait. You can go into his office.”

  Jonah stayed where he was. She wore jeans and a bright red shirt, tucked in at the waist, with a sparkly belt and bright blue cowboy boots. Her hair was down, moving over her shoulders as she walked, and it struck him that this was the first time he’d seen her with her hair that way. It was always up in a professional braid or like the fancy style she’d had at the wedding. And the clothes... He’d only ever seen her in her corporate suit and jacket or an evening dress. But today she looked casual and young and more beautiful than he’d ever seen her before. Her face was free of makeup and he spotted a row of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

  Damn. Freckles. Something kerneled in his chest, a heavy feeling he didn’t like, and he realized what it was. Attraction. But since she was regarding him with contempt and undisguised impatience, Jonah also felt like a first-rate fool.

  She’d made her thoughts abundantly clear that night ten months ago. He’d been at the bar downstairs, looking for solace and a way to purge the rage pounding through his blood. She’d been alone at a booth, staring into a club soda. He knew who she was. He’d met her that first time he’d accompanied his mother to Cedar River when she’d returned to see her family after thirty years away from the small town. Liam’s secret marriage to Kayla had been the catalyst for Kathleen’s return, and Jonah wasn’t about to allow her to face everyone without him. What he hadn’t bargained on was Connie Bedford. He had recognized an instant attraction.