by Helen Lacey
“I guess everyone did what they thought was right,” Connie said quietly, and Jonah realized he didn’t resent her opinion as much as he thought he would.
“Perhaps,” he agreed. “It’s all moot now, anyhow, since the cat is completely out of the bag. My mom is back in Cedar River and everyone knows the whole sordid story.”
“Still, it must be nice to be loved so much,” she said and smiled.
He found himself chuckling. “Is your glass always half-full?”
“Yes,” she replied. “And yours half-empty?”
He laughed. He liked that Connie didn’t back down. She wasn’t a pushover. Watching her bring that six-foot-something cowboy to his knees had made Jonah realize that even more. She was strong and resilient and not anyone’s doormat.
“You’re really something, you know that?”
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
Before he could respond, she asked him about the planned extension of the museum, and they talked about that for the remainder of the drive. When he pulled up outside her house, it was past ten. They got out, and as they headed through the gate, the sensor light on the porch flicked on. The dogs barked, then he heard the sound of paws rushing over floorboards.
“Sounds like quite the welcome-home committee,” he said and stood back while she took out her keys and opened the door.
Before the hounds had a chance to escape, she commanded them to sit. They obeyed immediately, and she stepped aside and ushered him in. The dogs stayed where they were, noses in the air, sniffing madly. The smallest of the pack had a rumble low in its throat, the kind that was more cautionary than real threat.
“This is Ruffalo,” she said and pointed to the tall wolfhound, then gestured to the smaller, shaggy white-and-gray pooch with one eye. “And this is Annabel. That’s Roger and the one growling is Mr. Jangles. But don’t take offense...he doesn’t generally like anyone except me.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
She smiled and Jonah’s chest tightened. There was something intoxicating about her smile. She dropped her bag on the hall table and asked him to follow. Jonah did as she requested, waiting a moment as the dogs followed in her wake, clearly delighted that she was home. He looked around as they headed down the long hall. The house was old, but the floorboards were polished, and as they passed the living room he noticed the mix of antique and new furniture pieces. There was a small television and a pair of matching sofas and a large fireplace. When they entered the kitchen, he glanced around and smiled to himself. Cedar countertops, shaker-style cabinets, copper pots suspended from a timber grid above the counter, planters containing herbs by the long window—it was exactly how he’d imagined it would be. Neat, but homey and welcoming.
Jonah watched as she instructed the dogs to go to their beds, which were all lined up by the back door, and then she moved around the counter and pulled a couple of mugs from one of the overhead cupboards. Like with everything she did, she was methodical and efficient as she made coffee for him and tea for herself.
“Black,” he said and perched on a stool on the opposite side of the countertop. “And sugar.”
She placed the mug on the counter, and for the first time he noticed that her hand was shaking slightly. He met her gaze, saw the tension in her expression and recognized something that looked a lot like fear in her eyes.
“Are you afraid of me?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Then why do you look as though you think I’m about to pounce?”
She exhaled heavily and did a vague shrug. “Habit.”
He frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” she replied quickly and came around the counter. “I’m probably still shaken up from what happened at the restaurant.”
Jonah wasn’t so sure, but he nodded. “You were safe, you know. I wouldn’t have allowed them to hurt you.”
She looked up sharply. “I know and thank you. But I can take care of myself.”
“So I noticed,” he said and sipped the coffee. “You’ve got quick reflexes.”
“Better watch out, Rickard,” she said and smiled a little, then her expression sobered. “Can I ask you something?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
“Why don’t you have your father’s name?”
It was about as personal as it got, and usually he’d shut down and refuse to reply. But he sensed that Connie wasn’t going to let him dodge the question. “You know why.”
“I can guess,” she said quietly. “It hurts him, you know. If that’s your intention.”
“It’s not about him,” he replied. “It’s about boundaries. Yes, J.D. is my biological father, but that’s all he is. I don’t care if it hurts him.”
“And I don’t believe you,” she said flatly. “If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t hate him as much as you do.”
“Reverse psychology?”
She shrugged. “Common sense. You’re an emotional person. I can see why hating him is the easy option.”
He sighed. Connie had a way of getting directly to the core of things. “I don’t want to talk about J.D.”
“Then what do you want to talk about?”
“Talking is overrated,” he said and placed his mug on the counter.
She took a deep breath. “Is this the kissing part now?”
“The what?”
“You said you wanted to kiss me,” she reminded him. “As part of the big date.”
Jonah’s gut did a leap. “I’m not going to swoop, if that’s what worrying you.”
“I’m not worried,” she said quietly. “You don’t seem the swooping type.”
His mouth twisted. “There’s a type?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not an expert on male behavior.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said and stepped toward her, keeping a foot between them, waiting for her to retreat, and when she didn’t, Jonah reached out and took her hand. “You’ve made your opinion of me abundantly clear since we first met.”
“Because you’ve acted like a jerk most of the time.”
“That’s true,” he said and turned her hand over, stroking her palm with his thumb. “But since we’ve already established that I’m growing on you...”
She smiled, and his insides clenched. She had a way of getting a reaction without doing anything overt, and it wreaked havoc with his common sense. Jonah didn’t do that sort of stuff. When it came to women, he was levelheaded and in control one hundred percent of the time. Except around Connie. He urged her a little closer, and when she didn’t resist, he felt his blood heat.
“You are,” she said softly. “Growing on me, I mean. But I want to be very clear about things, which means I’m not in the market for a broken heart, Jonah. So, before you make your move, just know that...okay?”
He swallowed hard, her honesty flooring him. “Okay... I hear you.”
She nodded and sighed as Jonah moved his hand to her neck, stroking her nape with his fingertips. Her lips were parted slightly, her eyes wide and curious...and something else. Nervous, maybe. Jonah stared at her, looking over every feature, every curve and angle of her beautiful face.
“If you want me to leave, I will,” he said quietly, keeping space between them.
“I know you will,” she replied, sighing deeply. “That’s what makes me want you to stay.”
Jonah reached out to grasp her chin, gently tilting her face upward. “Did someone break your heart once, Connie?”
“My heart,” she whispered, as though the memory hurt her down to her very core. “My spirit.”
Jonah’s insides crunched. “I understand caution when it comes to getting close to people,” he said, rubbing his thumb across her cheek. “Sometimes I think I invented it. But I’m not out to hurt yo
u or make empty promises. I just want—”
“Sex?” she said, cutting him off.
Heat smacked his cheeks, but he wasn’t about to lie to her. “I’m a guy,” he said and shrugged. “We’re kind of programmed that way.”
She laughed humorlessly. “At least you’re honest about it.”
“I don’t lie, Connie,” he said, more seriously. “I will always tell you the truth about my motives. It’s obvious that I’m attracted to you and I think that’s mutual...right?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“So, we’ll just see where it goes.”
“To bed, you mean?”
He shrugged again. “If that’s what you want.”
“And it’s completely my decision?”
“Of course,” he replied. “Always.”
She took a moment to respond, and then nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
She nodded again. “Maybe we will end up in bed. We’ll just have to see.”
He smiled. “Is everything usually so cut-and-dried with you?”
“Usually,” she replied. “We doormats are generally the boring, black-or-white type.”
“I thought you’d forgiven me for that remark.”
“I have,” she said softly and moved closer. “I’m making fun of you.” She looked up at him, meeting his gaze, her mouth slightly parted, her eyes wide. “You can kiss me now...I mean, if you still want to.”
Jonah’s entire body tensed. He wanted to. Very much. She was close, and when her breasts touched his chest it almost sent his libido into overdrive. Jonah took a breath, grasped her chin and hovered his mouth over hers. They’d kissed before, but somehow, being so close, hearing her breathe, inhaling the scent that was uniquely hers, Jonah experienced an acute sense of being in the moment, of feeling and sensing nothing else other than everything that was Connie. It should have set off alarm bells in his head. But instead, he felt the rightness of it through to his blood and then felt it seep deep into his bones. He was hooked. Totally at the mercy of his desire for her. With no foreseeable way out other than to make a run for it.
Which was out of the question.
* * *
Connie slipped her arms around his shoulders, feeling the muscles bunch beneath her fingers, feeling every part of him in a way that was impossibly intimate and breathtakingly scary. His eyes glittered brilliantly, meeting hers without blinking, holding her gaze with such burning intensity she could barely draw breath. They were breast to chest, thigh to thigh, and she waited for the usual panic to rise, for her old fears to make a comeback, for the memories to resurface and warn her off. But oddly, they didn’t. Because she wasn’t afraid of Jonah. She desired him. She liked him. She trusted him. And trust had always been in short supply in her life.
Strange, some faraway voice whispered to her, that she trusted Jonah without really knowing him very well. For Connie, trust was earned, and garnered by time and integrity and actions. She trusted Liam and J.D. because they had witnessed her at her most vulnerable and saved her from the worst moment in her life. She trusted her friends Annie and Nicola because they had never had a morbid curiosity about her past like some others had shown over the years. And that, she realized, was it.
Four people. A small circle of trust in any language.
And now, inexplicably, there was Jonah.
Crazy. Senseless. Potentially foolish, because he had so much emotional baggage that it was certainly going to end in disaster...or at the very least, her broken heart.
But when his mouth touched hers, she was gone. He softly coaxed her lips apart, gently anchoring her head with a steady palm at her nape. There was nothing rushed, nothing overpowering, nothing other than a gentle coax and a request for permission. She gave it instinctively, and when his tongue touched hers, Connie experienced a deep surge of desire spark through her veins. His kiss was something she would never get enough of. And there was no threat, no demand. He was asking for her to kiss him back, seeking her agreement to ensure that they were heading to the same place, a place that had always terrified her, because it meant absolute surrender.
And surrender meant vulnerability...something she’d vowed never to allow again.
Connie moaned, hearing the sound echo low in her chest, feeling the vibration through her blood and across every nerve ending. It’s just a kiss. But it was more. That’s what struck her the most. She’d been kissed before. She’d put herself out there and gone on several first dates...but never had a man’s kiss affected her on a such a deep, sensory level. The fact that it was Jonah who wreaked such havoc with her senses...Jonah, who was in constant conflict with everyone she cared about the most, was confusing and contradictory to everything she thought she believed in.
But when his mouth touched hers again, when he deepened the kiss and his tongue danced with hers, she was utterly and categorically undone. She pressed closer, feeling him aroused against her, but she sensed no threat and no need to run. That’s what shook her...that he wasn’t a threat. That he would never be a threat. That she’d found a man who made her feel safe.
And she wanted him.
She wanted him in ways she’d never wanted anyone before.
But, like a cold bucket of reality washing over her, Connie realized that surrender to Jonah put her in grave danger. Because if she allowed herself to feel, he would see her. He’d learn her secrets.
“Jonah,” she said against his mouth. “Please...stop.”
He did so immediately, pulling back and releasing her. “Too soon?” he asked quietly, the pulse in his cheek throbbing faster than usual. His hands were at his sides and he took another step back, putting space between them.
Connie shook her head. “It’s not that. You know I’m... You know that I like you. I’m just not good at—” she gestured between them “—this stuff.”
His mouth curled at the edges, and he watched her with blistering intensity for a moment before he spoke again. “Are you a virgin?”
Connie bit back a gasp. God, did she appear so naive? So clumsy? So out of her depth? “Ah...no.”
“How many lovers have you had?”
It was impossibly personal question. “Not as many as you, I’m sure.”
He laughed softly. “I shouldn’t have asked you that. But I’m trying to figure you out,” he admitted and shrugged. “And failing.”
“I don’t mean to be complicated,” she said quietly. “Or hot and cold. I am genuinely attracted to you. But I don’t want to rush into anything. I don’t rush...ever. Except that night with you at the hotel, I guess you could say I rushed...but it all happened so fast. And tonight... I had a nice time, which was unexpected and made me really confused. Because I like you and I’m not sure I can cope with it becoming anything more than that too quickly. Does that make sense?”
He nodded slowly. “It goes both ways, you know. You’re not the only one who sucks at relationships. Would it surprise you to know that I’ve never had a proper girlfriend... I mean, someone who moves in or has a drawer in the dresser or leaves her toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet. So, we’re both novices here. Do I want to make love to you? Absolutely,” he said candidly. “But that’s for you to decide. In the meantime, I’d also like to spend some more time with you. Just hanging out,” he reassured her. “Can we spend the day together tomorrow?”
Connie’s head reeled with shock at his bald honesty. He really didn’t sugarcoat anything.
“I can’t tomorrow.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
“I’m helping Kieran and Nicola move,” she explained. “You know they’re moving into the O’Sullivan ranch and Gwen has relocated into town, right?”
He nodded. “Sure. And you’ll be doing that all day?”
“I didn’t set a time limit. Nicola is my friend and I said I would help.” An idea formed. “Would you
like to join me?”
She could have asked him if he’d like to chew glass and probably would have gotten a less scowling expression. He looked at her for a moment, his handsome head tilted to the side, his gorgeous mouth curled up. Then he spoke. “Sure...why not.”
Connie raised both brows. “You do understand that it means spending the part of the day with the O’Sullivans? With your brothers? And possibly J.D.?”
He nodded. “How bad could it be?”
Connie laughed softly. “Knowing you... World War Three.”
He chuckled. “I promise to be on my best behavior.”
“Your best behavior,” she said, a little sterner. “I have your word?”
“Yes,” he promised.
“Even if Liam gets on your nerves or J.D. has the audacity to try to strike up a conversation?”
He didn’t flinch. “Even then.”
Connie smiled widely. “It’s a date.”
“Okay,” he said. “And now, I should probably get out of here. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He kissed her, briefly and on the cheek, and then she watched him leave with a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Tomorrow, she was going with him into O’Sullivan territory. It would be either her smartest move or the biggest mistake of her adult life.
Either way, Jonah Rickard had worked his way into her head.
And her heart.
Chapter Six
Jonah didn’t have any illusions about his behavior. He’d agreed to hang out with the O’Sullivans because he wanted to spend time with Connie.
Still, driving toward the O’Sullivan ranch felt weird. He’d been there a couple of times before—for Kieran and Nicola’s wedding and for Gwen O’Sullivan’s birthday celebration—but he still experienced an uneasy tightening around the collar as he drove up the long driveway. Connie sat beside him, looking achingly pretty in jeans, a bright orange shirt and matching boots, and a short fur-lined coat. Her hair was loose and hung around her shoulders, and her face was free of makeup.
It’s the freckles.
