by Helen Lacey
Connie looked at the offer letter. More money. Way more. More responsibility. Kudos and reward for her years of loyal service. Tears sprang to her eyes and she managed a shaky smile.
“No tears,” Liam warned and held up his hand. “Is that a yes?”
“Can I think about it overnight?”
He frowned for a second. “Of course. And you would also need to find your replacement here. Someone who can put up with me as well as you do.”
She thought about how proud she was to have earned the promotion, and how excited she was to share the news with Jonah. Silly, she supposed. She had closer friends, people she’d known longer. But it felt right to tell him her good news.
As for why she wanted to think about it—she wasn’t quite sure. But something was holding her back. She shrugged off the feeling and went about her day, looking forward to talking to Jonah.
* * *
Jonah’s Monday morning meeting with J.D. started exactly as he expected—with enough tension between them to put them both in a bad mood. But he held back his resentment long enough to take a quick tour of the old building and offer his advice.
“The place has been vacant for years,” J.D. explained. “But most of the commercial real estate on this side of the river is new and tenanted. This used to be a steel fabrication factory and I’d like to see something here that could be used for manufacturing. It would be good for the town, you know. For employment and the local economy.”
“It wouldn’t do your bank balance any harm, either,” Jonah said as they walked through the ground floor and then back out into the abandoned parking area.
J.D. shrugged. “Real estate is my thing. Just like running the hotel is Liam’s thing, or medicine is Kieran’s thing and designing buildings is yours. We all have our purpose and our passion.”
Jonah wasn’t about to disagree. “It’s certainly not worth a renovation,” he said as he looked around. “Knock it down and build something new.”
J.D. nodded. “Would you design it?”
Jonah’s back twitched. “I can recommend someone else who lives closer to—”
“I don’t want someone else,” J.D. said quickly. “I want you.”
“Why?”
“You know why. To be a part of something together. To help us heal our relationship.”
He stared at his father, ignoring the way his chest constricted. “We don’t really have a relationship.”
“Yes, we do,” J.D. refuted. “A bad one. I want to try to fix that.”
“You’re trying too hard.”
“One of us has to,” J.D. said quietly. “Otherwise, we’ll keep going around in circles. I don’t want that for us, Jonah. I want us to get along. And I want you to have a real relationship with your brothers.”
“It doesn’t matter what you want,” Jonah said, remembering that he’d promised Connie he wouldn’t argue with J.D., and the memory of that promise kept him from losing his cool. “And I’ll work out my relationship with my brothers in my own way, and my own time.”
“And us?”
He sighed heavily. “I’ll think about it.”
J.D. looked surprised and then smiled. “Okay...great. Maybe we could—”
“One step at a time,” Jonah said quickly. “Don’t push me. And don’t expect too much.”
“I can’t help it,” J.D. admitted. “My children are the most important things in the world to me.”
“Is that how you make it right with yourself?” Jonah asked, his chest tightening. “By thinking about how important your kids are to you? If that was really the case, you wouldn’t have had an affair with my mother, when you already had a devoted wife, three young kids and another on the way.”
J.D. raised his hands. “I made a mistake and I—”
“Yeah,” Jonah shot back. “I know. I’m right here.”
“I didn’t mean that you were the mistake,” J.D. said wearily.
“Save it,” Jonah snapped and waved a dismissive hand. “I have to go. See you around.”
But J.D. clearly wasn’t done with him as he followed him to his car. “Please...let’s talk about this.”
“About what?” Jonah shot back. “About how you were never there? About how I got the leftovers of your real life as a father?”
“I tried to be there when I could,” J.D. insisted. “But it was hard. I was...torn.”
“Hard?” Jonah echoed the word incredulously. “Seriously? Do you want to know what’s hard? Knowing my very existence is your mistake. And knowing there’s not a damned thing I can do about it.”
Having had more conversation than he wanted, Jonah left then and arrived in Portland a few hours later. He drove straight home from the airport and managed to get some work done before calling it a day around five o’clock. He unpacked his suitcase, threw on a load of laundry, then showered and changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. He searched through the refrigerator for something he could throw together for dinner, and when he found nothing, ordered a pizza. He really did need to work out where he wanted to be, since the constant commuting between Cedar River and Portland was starting to take a toll on his life, both socially and professionally. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone out for drinks with his friends and he had a couple of work projects that were hovering on the edge of deadlines.
Cedar River was taking over his life. Not just Connie. But J.D. He was sick of listening to the other man tell him how hard it was for him.
I made a mistake...
There it was...in a nutshell.
He called Connie that night and was instantly put at ease when he heard her voice on the other end of the line. She told him about the job offer from Liam, asking his opinion, and he talked her through the pros and cons, and finally she decided she truly was ready to step up and take on the challenge.
“I’m a little overwhelmed,” she admitted. “It’s more than I expected.”
“But what you deserve,” he added. “And Liam knows that. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly, and Jonah felt foolish for missing her as much as he did, knowing she was so many miles away. “How did things go with your dad?”
“J.D. was his usual wonderful self,” he said wryly, not embellishing too much. He didn’t want Connie to be in the middle of his argument with his father. “And I mostly behaved myself, as I promised you I would.”
“I’m glad. To be honest,” she said, her voice lowering, “I’m a little worried about him.”
Jonah’s insides contracted. “Why is that?”
She sighed. “I don’t know...he just doesn’t seem like himself. He hardly spends any time at the hotel these days. I’m not sure what he does with himself.”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Jonah said, dismissing the uneasiness in his chest.
The conversation set the tempo for the next evening. He called around nine o’clock and they chatted for an hour about nothing in particular. By the time the call was ending, he was torn between happiness and a deep-rooted longing that defied anything he’d ever felt before.
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow night?” he inquired, his voice a husky rasp.
“Yes. Absolutely. It’s my turn to cook for you.”
“Do you have more of those cookies?”
“I made you a special batch,” she said and laughed. “And I made some for your mom.”
“I can’t wait to see you,” he admitted.
“Me, too.”
“Goodnight, Connie. Sweet dreams.”
He ended the call, his head consumed with images of the woman who had somehow invaded his thoughts, and his heart.
* * *
By Wednesday evening, Connie was a bag of nerves. She put on her favorite green dress, brushed her hair until it shone and applied a hint of makeup. She knew Jonah liked her fr
eckles, and she wanted them to show. He arrived at six thirty, a bottle of wine in one hand and a bouquet of miniature pink roses in the other. He kissed her forehead and patted the dogs, who had all accepted his appearance as though it was the most normal thing in the world.
Dinner was quiet. They ate, drank some wine and talked about their respective weeks. Connie asked him about his plans for Christmas.
“I was going to spend the holiday with my mom, as usual,” he said, watching her over the rim of his glass, and Connie saw the way his eyes darkened. “And you, I hope.”
“What about the O’Sullivans?” she asked, fighting the butterflies racing through her belly at the way he watched her. “They’ll want to see you.”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“You promised to make an effort, remember?”
“I know,” he said and reached across the table to grasp her hand. He ran his middle finger down her palm, and the caress was incredibly erotic. She met his gaze, saw the heat in his eyes and swallowed hard. The mood between them had shifted, going from companionable and friendly to something else...something more.
“Are you going to make love to me?” she asked softly.
Jonah turned her hand over, got to his feet and gently pulled her to stand. “Actually,” he said quietly, drawing her close, “I was thinking that maybe you’d like to make love to me.”
“Oh,” she said and sighed. “Okay.”
“Where’s your bedroom?”
Connie led him down the hallway and into her bedroom. The lilac coverlet, pale mauve walls and paisley prints had remained unchanged for years, and she spotted a smile on his face as she flicked on the bedside light.
“It’s nice,” he said and released her. “Very...you.”
Connie stood still, knees knocking, her breath shallow. “So, here we are.”
He smiled, slipped off his shoes and took his wallet from his khakis. She watched as he extracted a couple of small foil packets and placed them on the bedside table.
Protection. Right. Suddenly the room seemed much smaller.
“This is really happening,” she said softly.
“Only if that’s what you want,” he said and moved around the bed. “If you want to go back into the living room, that’s what we’ll do.”
She shook her head. “No...I want to stay. I want this.” She paused, taking a breath. “I want you.”
His mouth curved into a smile. He looked so sexy it took her breath away. “Okay...then come here.”
She took a step, and then another, until she was in front of him. “I don’t know how—”
“Shh,” he whispered and grabbed her hands, holding them against his chest. “Undress me.”
Connie met his gaze, trembling from head to toe as her fingers traveled up his chest and reached the top button on his shirt. It came undone easily. And then the next. And the next, until she was at the waistband and she pulled the shirt free. His chest was smooth and tanned and perfectly sculpted. She took a moment, remembering how much she wanted him, thinking of his kisses, his touch and how it was exactly what she yearned for. Connie pressed her palms against his skin and moved downward until she reached his belt. He sucked in a sharp breath as her fingers touched his belly, and she smiled.
“Tickles,” he said softly, grinning.
Connie undid the belt and slipped it from the loops, tossing it to the floor, and then, with her bravado building, she pushed the shirt off his shoulders and pulled his arms through the sleeves. He really was gorgeous. All lean muscle and sinew, with a trail of hair running from his navel downward. She swallowed hard as her fingers fumbled with the snap on his khakis. She’d never really seen a man completely naked before—only on television and in her dreams of Jonah since their brief night together all those months ago—and being so close to him, inhaling the scent of his cologne, feeling his muscles tense beneath her inexperienced hands, was suddenly a powerful turn-on. She was nervous but not afraid. For the first time in her life, she felt free and whole and knew that being with him was going to be amazing. His arms were at his sides and he didn’t move as she touched him.
She took a long breath and then pulled down the zipper. He was hard against her hand, but he still didn’t move, didn’t make a grab for her and scare her witless. He was in complete control of himself. Connie’s entire body shook, and he reached up and grasped her chin, tilting her head toward him.
“You’re okay,” he assured her gently. “There’s no rush.”
She nodded. “Help me with the rest.”
He grinned and quickly ditched the remainder of his clothes. She drank in the sight of him, and then, when looking wasn’t nearly enough, she touched him tentatively, stroking his chest. His arms. His back. And still he didn’t move, didn’t flinch, didn’t take anything from her. He was giving her what she needed. He was giving her trust. And honor. And everything that had been taken from her so long ago.
She went to undo the top button on her dress, but his hand came up and clasped around hers.
“Not yet,” he whispered. “Not until you are one hundred percent sure. I want you to feel safe with me,” he said. “I want you to know that I will never take anything from you that you are not giving me willingly. That’s what making love is, Connie. Or at least, that’s what it should be. Two people who trust one another,” he said with deliberate emphasis. “But I know that your trust needs to be earned. So you touch me all you want. And when you’re ready to trust me, that’s when I’ll kiss you. That’s when I’ll touch you.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”
He chuckled and wiped the tears from her eyes with his thumb. “You’re so beautiful, Connie. And very sexy. I know you don’t really believe that—but it’s true. That’s what I see when I look at you. And,” he said, his voice cracking, “I can never give back what was taken from you. I can never make it right. But here, tonight, there’s just you and me. Just two people who have an intense connection and want to be together. You could never disappoint me.” He touched her face, cradling her cheek. “Simply being here with you makes me happy.”
He dropped his hand and moved toward the bed, sitting up against the headboard, legs stretched out, unmistakably aroused and completely uninhibited. And Connie felt more alive and more powerful than she ever had in her life. She stripped off her dress with a confidence she didn’t know she possessed and stood by the bed wearing only her bra and panties. Neither were particularly sexy, but beneath Jonah’s visual appraisal, the stretchy black lace made her feel sensual and exotic, but still, her uncertainty lingered.
Connie shook her head. “I don’t know what to do.”
He grinned. “Whatever you want. You have my permission.”
“I’m nervous,” she admitted.
“I know. But you’re perfectly safe,” he insisted softly. “I won’t hurt you. You won’t hurt me.”
He was right. She would never hurt him. And he would never hurt her—Connie knew that deep in her soul. And she understood what he was giving her—his complete surrender.
For Connie, the following hour was like a sensual awakening, a journey of self-discovery she’d never imagined she would take. She touched him, stroked him, ran her trembling fingertips along every angle and sinew. And he allowed her the freedom to take what she wanted...what she needed. She kissed him. She met his lips with her own and felt the erotic slide of his tongue around hers. She roamed over him with her mouth, her tongue, her hands, and in the back of her mind she was waiting for the panic to set in. But it never came. Instead she experienced freedom, as though she was finally throwing off the shackles of that awful day ten years ago. And this man everyone told her was cold and unfriendly and who didn’t try to fit in, who didn’t care about anyone, had given her the opportunity to grab that freedom. She made him moan, she made him writhe, and he could have easily taken co
ntrol...but he didn’t. He allowed her to take the lead, because he knew it was what she needed to rid herself of her fear and, for the first time in her life, take charge of her sensuality.
“Connie,” he said raggedly as she kissed him. “You’re killing me.”
She knew that. And she loved him for it.
I love this man.
Admitting it to herself strengthened her resolve. And her desire.
And just like that, Connie felt real freedom for the first time in her adult life. Freedom from fear. From anger. From blame. She stripped off her underwear and knelt beside him, grabbing the condom off the bedside table.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She nodded. “Never surer.”
“Tell me what you want,” he urged gently. “What you need.”
“You,” she said simply. “Just you.”
“Okay,” he said and took the condom, quickly sheathing himself. “But if at any time you want to stop and—”
“Jonah,” she said and placed a fingertip against his mouth. “Stop talking.”
She rolled and lay back, holding out her hands, feeling powerful and completely in control. She smiled and invited him closer and he obliged immediately, moving over her, his weight resting on his arms.
“Is this okay?” he asked, placing one leg between hers.
Connie nodded and rested her hands on his shoulders. “Perfect.”
“You’re not...afraid?”
She shook her head. “Not at all.”
He kissed her hotly, plunging his tongue into her mouth in an erotic onslaught. She kissed him back, every sense she possessed heightened. He touched her, asking first, whispering his intent as his hand moved along her body, down her rib cage and lower still. Connie waited for the fear to resurface, but none came. She felt only desire and complete and utter surrender to her senses. His touch was gentle, but firm, his caress erotic and achingly tender. He took her up, driving her crazy, making her want him in ways she hadn’t imagined possible. And then, once she was at the brink of complete surrender, they were together, joined in the most intimate way possible. There was no discomfort. No pain. No threat. It was breathtaking, joyous, overwhelming. When he moved, she moved. When he kissed her, she kissed him back, matching the slow and seductive rhythm he created that suited them both, and suddenly she was moving her hips in a way that came to her as naturally as breathing. And then she was gone, swept up in a vortex of pleasure so intense it sucked the breath from her lungs. She said his name over and over, felt him meet her in that same place, as release, white-hot and earth-shattering, sent them both over the edge.
