by Helen Lacey
“Stop?”
“Being in love with your son,” she said, her heart aching.
Gwen’s mouth curled into a gentle smile. “Perhaps you’re not meant to.”
She shrugged. “Maybe. But it hurts when the person you love doesn’t love you in return.”
“Are you so sure that he doesn’t?” Gwen asked.
Nicola nodded. “He’s not ready for this...for us...for the boys. And I can’t accept anything less than everything, not when I have two children to consider. If it was only me,” she said and shrugged, “who knows, maybe I’d take the risk. But the kids already have him earmarked to make a great husband and father, and—”
“They’re right,” Gwen said and regarded her seriously. “My son is an incredible man. He’s kind and compassionate and strong, and he was a good husband and a wonderful father. Losing all that broke something inside of him. But seeing you together...seeing him with your nephews and with you, it’s obvious that the four of you belong together.”
It was a nice, romantic idea, but Nicola wasn’t convinced. She knew the boys would relish the idea, but it was a fantasy. They’d agreed to keep it casual, to purge any lingering feelings they had for one another. But it had spectacularly backfired. He wanted no-strings sex. She wanted a lifetime commitment.
“Liam said I was Kieran’s Kryptonite,” Nicola said quietly. “But I think that perhaps that’s what we are to each other...it seems like a good idea but, for some reason, it just doesn’t work.”
“He’s been hurt in the past,” Gwen reminded her. “Badly. And he’s terrified of that happening again. Can you blame him?”
“No,” she replied. “But I don’t want to be his rebound affair, either. I’ve been there before, and it’s not a lot of fun.”
“No, it’s not,” Gwen agreed. “I was married to a man for thirty-five years who was in love with someone else for most of that time...but I don’t think that’s your fate. I think you’ll get the life you want.”
Nicola wasn’t so sure. “I want so many things. But right now, I’d settle for not feeling so unhappy.”
Gwen smiled. “Don’t give up on him, Nicola. He’s worth fighting for.”
“You’re biased,” she said and half shrugged.
“Of course. But you know I’m right.”
She did. Because Kieran was worth fighting for. But she was, too...and that was want she wanted. His fight. His belief that they were more than simply a chemical reaction to one another. More than an itch needing to be scratched for a few hours. More than a memory.
She wanted his love.
But he had a mountain of insecurities to scale before she would let him into her heart ever again.
Chapter Ten
“So, are you and your girlfriend in the middle of some sort of crisis?”
Kieran stared his brother, ignored the question and kept walking around the garden. Nicola’s garden. She was inside, working on the accounts for JoJo’s. But knowing her as he did, there had to be steam coming out of her ears—he was sure of it.
Jonah grinned. “She’s got spirit, that’s for sure.”
“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s not my anything,” he said pointedly and waved the plans in front of his brother’s face. “Can we get back to this?”
It was Friday afternoon and the second time he’d been at her house since Tuesday. The day before, he’d arrived to spend time with Marco, and she’d barely spared him a glance, muttering something about expecting him to bail. And he almost had. He’d almost pulled the plug on having anything to do with her, her nephews or the damned fishpond. But his conscience had given him grief and, in the end, he knew he didn’t have the heart to disappoint the boys. It wasn’t their fault that he and their aunt were having a...thing. And now they were happily shooting baskets through the new basketball hoop he’d fixed to the side of the shed the day before.
“Yeah...she’s not anything. That’s why you look as though you want to punch someone.”
“Are you volunteering?”
Jonah laughed, which was unexpected, since he rarely looked anything other than moody and resentful. “Keep me out of your romance problems.” He walked on ahead and then turned. “So, what did you do?”
“Do?”
There was another clang in the kitchen. “Yeah, do. You obviously screwed up.”
Kieran’s mouth twisted. “She’s impossible.”
“And you expected something different?” Jonah queried.
“I expect rational behavior. I expect to know what I’ve done wrong.”
“From the woman you’re in love with?” his brother said bluntly.
“I’m not in love with her,” he denied and strode around the yard, standing in front of the spot where the pond would go.
“Sure you are,” Jonah said and grinned for a second. “Not that it’s any of my business. But Liam thinks you never stopped loving her. And since she’s inside hating you, you should probably go in there and talk it out.”
Kieran scowled. “Stay out of it. You and Liam.”
“I’m out,” Jonah said. “Just a little brotherly concern.”
Kieran made an exasperated sound, shoved the plans into Jonah’s hands and trudged up to the house, making his way into the kitchen. She was at the dining table, tapping keys on the laptop. Her hair was up, and he caught a glimpse of one shoulder as her loose sweater dipped to the left. He swallowed hard, trying to think about anything other than her skin, her scent, or the way she moved. But it was impossible. Everything about her affected him on some primary, soul-reaching level. If he had any sense, he’d ignore her bad mood, stride directly toward her and haul her into his arms and kiss her beautiful neck.
“What do you want?” she asked, not looking at him, but clearly sensing his presence.
Kieran moved into the kitchen and placed a hand on the countertop. “Just letting you know there’ll be contractors here on Tuesday to dig out the hole for the pond.”
“I’ll write a check to cover it,” she said, still not looking at him.
“It was my idea,” he reminded her. “I’ll pay for it.”
“I’m not a charity case.”
“No,” he said, suddenly all out of patience. “At the moment you’re a head case.”
She jumped to her feet and jammed her hands onto her hips.
“Jerk.”
Kieran sucked in a breath. “Why are you so angry?”
“You know why.”
He shrugged. “If I did, I doubt we’d be having this conversation. You’re the one who bailed the other day.”
She glared at him. “I’m the one who bailed. I’m the one who chased you. I guess it’s all on me.”
“Let’s get this straight,” he said and moved closer toward her, crossing him arms. “You’re angry because I pointed out the obvious?”
“I’m angry at myself,” she shot back. “Not you.”
“Sure doesn’t seem like it.”
“Not everything is about you,” she said hotly. “I realized I made a mistake and shouldn’t have gotten involved, okay?”
“Is this because you think I’m still in love with my ex-wife?” he asked quickly. “Because I assure you, that’s not the case.”
“Then who are you in love with?”
Kieran rocked back on his heels, a rush of words surging through his blood, but none would come out. Suddenly he knew what she wanted...knew what she expected...but he couldn’t admit what he was feeling. It was too early. Too raw. Too risky. And he wasn’t ready for any declarations.
“Nic, I...”
“Exactly,” she said and shrugged. “You can’t. You’re not ready. You’re nowhere near ready. And as much as you want to deny it, you are still wrapped up in your ex-wife,” she said and then raised a hand when he went to protest. “And, yeah, maybe it
’s not love. Maybe it’s other feelings, other emotions...but they are still there. Still haunting you. Still making it impossible for you to move on.”
Resentment sparked in his chest, heating his blood. “Okay,” he said and waved an exasperated hand. “So, maybe I’m not ready for some huge commitment. But I’m ready to spend time with you and be with you and—”
“Sleep with me?” she added. “Yeah, I know. Just sex. No strings, remember.”
“They were your words,” he reminded her. “Not mine. You wanted to get me out of your system so you could move on. That’s what you said. You wanted to get past us. That’s why you came to my apartment. That’s why you asked me to make love to you. And now you want—what? Something else? Something more? Or what?” He laughed humorlessly. “Consider yourself moved on, I guess.”
She had tears in her eyes, but he wasn’t swayed. He was pissed. He felt manipulated and betrayed. He’d trusted her to be honest and upfront, and now she was asking for something he wasn’t ready to give. He’d had enough of this game.
“I’d like you to leave,” she said and turned away. “I’ll tell the boys you had to go. And take your brother with you.”
“That’s your answer? Kicking me out?”
She made a miffed sound. “I’m not going to waste any more time on you or us.”
Kieran didn’t hang around. What he wanted to do was go to O’Sullivan’s and throw down a few shots of bourbon to help ease the rage and confusion coursing through his blood. But, since he was on call for the next three days, he headed home, slumped in front of the television and drank a cola.
His cell pinged, and he stared at the number. Nicola. He looked at the message.
Flowers would be nice. N
Flowers? Was she serious? Didn’t they just break up? Not that they were together...but it sure felt like a breakup. He dumped the phone onto the sofa and stared at the television.
Damned if he’d be a part of anymore female manipulation. He’d spent too many years married to someone who had lied to his face over and over, pretending to want him, making him love a child who wasn’t his. He wasn’t going to be that stupid again. Or that gullible. His next relationship—if there was a next one—would be on his terms. And that meant he wasn’t about to get sucked in by Nicola’s hot-and-cold routine. She either wanted him or she didn’t.
It would be his way or the highway.
He wouldn’t be swayed. He couldn’t be. Because he wasn’t in love with her. Sure, he wanted her. And making love with her had been incredible. They had great chemistry.
And, of course, he liked her. They had a lot of history. A lot in common. He enjoyed being around her. He couldn’t get enough of her scent, her smile, the damned sexy way she swayed when she walked. Kissing her was like nothing he’d ever experienced.
And he liked being around the kids, too, even though it was the last thing he’d imagined he’d want to do. And maybe the hurt he’d felt over losing Christian had lessened some since he’d been spending time with Marco and Johnny.
And maybe, the more time he spent with Nicola, his heart didn’t feel like it was closed for business. Perhaps there were times over the past few weeks when he had stopped being afraid to actually feel something for someone, in case it was cruelly taken away.
He was conflicted. Because he wanted to be with her, but didn’t know how to on her terms. She wanted so much more than he was ready to give.
Kieran glanced at the text message again. Was she trying to meet him halfway? To let him know they weren’t as over as she had made out. It ignited something in his chest. Relief. Curiosity. Hope.
But I do not love her...
Still, that didn’t stop him from heading to a florist in town first thing Saturday morning.
* * *
“Um...there’s a big bunch on flowers on the bar with your name on them,” Connie said early Saturday afternoon. “So, spill?”
Nicola shrugged and continued filling the salt grinders. Her friend had stopped by the restaurant to drop off more flyers for the rodeo, which was the following weekend. It was one of the major events on the calendar, with competitors coming from around the state to compete for their share of the purse and trophies. There would be a band and dancing and a variety of food and drink vendors, a Ferris wheel and fireworks later in the evening. Of course, the boys wanted to go. And she’d agreed to attend with one of the other parents at school—a single dad who seemed nice and had two young boys of his own. His name was Alex, and she’d bumped into him on Thursday evening at a parent-teacher conference at the school. They’d started talking and, before she knew it, she was agreeing to a date.
Not that it was really a date. But it would be nice to have some new adult male company for a change.
And it would help erase a certain person from her thoughts.
Because she was tired of thinking about Kieran. Exhausted from too little sleep and too many dreams.
“Nicola?” Connie prompted. “The flowers?”
She shrugged. “O’Sullivan. He’s lost his mind.”
“What does the card say?”
She mulled over the words for a few seconds. “As requested. And then just his initial. And before you ask, I have no idea what it means.”
“Did you ask him?” Connie inquired, her eyes wide.
“Of course not,” she replied.
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve misplaced my cell phone and don’t know his number.” She wasn’t about to admit that she suspected she’d left her cell phone at his apartment.
Connie’s mouth curved. “I have his number. I can give it to you. And you could always call the hospital?” Connie suggested.
“I know I could,” she said. “But I don’t want to. I don’t want to see him. Talk to him. Touch him. Kiss him. Or anything. Ever again.”
Connie’s mouth twitched. “Those are some pretty specific things.”
“Precisely. And I don’t want his stupid flowers.”
Her friend grinned. “It’s kind of romantic.”
Nicola rolled her eyes. “I thought you were on my side. Even though I know you adore the O’Sullivans.”
“Not all of them,” Connie said pointedly. “But I do like Kieran, and he clearly likes you.”
Yeah, sure he does.
But that wasn’t enough. Nicola wasn’t going to be anyone’s second fiddle ever again. Or anyone’s consolation prize. He’d made it clear he wasn’t up for anything serious and, with the boys to consider, she wasn’t about to play roulette with their fragile emotions. Or her own.
“I hate him. End of story.”
“Sure you do,” Connie said, eyebrows angled. “You’re completely in hate with him.”
She scowled at her friend. “How about we talk about you and Jonah?”
Connie took about ten seconds to bail.
Nicola spent most of the weekend at the restaurant, other than Sunday afternoon watching a movie with Johnny. Her oldest nephew had opened up a lot in the past week and wasn’t as moody and sullen as he’d been in the past. She’d made him apologize to the owner of the bakery, and the older man had agreed to Johnny doing some chores around the place a couple of afternoons after school when the repairs were complete. His accomplice had been forced to do the same thing. His friend didn’t seem like a bad kid either, and she’d tentatively agreed to let the boys continue their friendship sometime in the future.
She took some time off on Monday and spent the morning doing a few errands. When she got home, there was a large basket on her doorstep filled with an assortment of candy and wrapped in clear cellophane. There was a card, and she recognized Kieran’s scrawl immediately.
For you... K.
Flowers and chocolate? What was he thinking?
She fought the overwhelming urge to confront him but decided the best defense w
as to ignore him completely. The boys were delighted by the candy, giggling their way through a bar of peppermint chocolate when they got home from school. The babysitter arrived. Mrs. Holden lived down the street, was a widow and had no problem staying with the boys until Nicola returned from the restaurant the few nights a week she worked. It meant her nephews weren’t constantly traveling back and forth between the restaurant and the house during school nights.
On Tuesday, the contractors arrived, and she knew Kieran had dropped by because he’d left a note taped to her door informing her of the contractor’s schedule. He’d also left a copy of the plans for her and said he’d stop by on Thursday to spend time with Marco and Johnny.
That meant she should make herself scarce. When she arrived home from the restaurant on Thursday night, Mrs. Holden’s green Ford sedan was nowhere to be seen. But Kieran’s Jeep was parked out by the curb. She stalked up the path, opened the door and found him in the living room, television on, feet up on the coffee table.
And asleep.
She pushed his shoulder to wake him, and he opened his eyes instantly and pulled his feet off the coffee table. “Hey, you’re back.”
“Where’s Mrs. Holden?”
“She had a bad headache, so I sent her home.”
Of course he did. “Where are the boys?”
“In bed and asleep. School night, remember?”
Nicola’s belly rolled over. He looked so gorgeous with his nut-brown tousled hair and whiskery shadow along his jaw. In jeans and a gray Henley shirt, he looked so hot he could have melted butter.
“You should have—”
“I tried to call your cell, but it went to voice mail,” he offered and clicked the TV volume down as he got to his feet.
“I misplaced my cell last week,” she explained. “I’m using my spare. I thought I might have left it at your apartment.”
He frowned. “You texted me Friday and Monday on that cell.”
“No,” she insisted and searched for her spare phone in her tote. “I didn’t.”
“The flowers...” His voice trailed off. “You told me you liked flowers. And then I received another one saying you liked candy.”
