He came over to sit next to her. “And sometimes those surprises are good.”
She held his gaze. “This one is,” she said simply, reaching up to pull one of the flowers out of her hair and giving him a sly, sweet, sexy smile. “And I’ll take the champagne now.”
He popped the cork and poured while watching her take one clip after another out of her hair, setting each on the coffee table, along with the tiny roses. When she finished, she shook her head and let the wheat-toned strands fall over her shoulders, the shiny mane glinting in the candlelight.
“You’re staring,” she said softly.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, holding a glass out to her. “Like the day I met you at Waterford. It was your hair I saw first and noticed it matched your little boy’s.”
“And what did you think?”
“I thought…” He took a moment to dig into his memory for the real truth of his first thought. “Well, I thought, shoot, a kid. Someone beat me to her.”
She took the champagne he offered. “But you came over to talk to us anyway.”
“Christian liked the dog I had.”
She angled her head and lifted her glass. “Here’s to Christian liking dogs that bring us together.”
The glasses dinged, and Liam took a sip, not usually a fan of the sweet bubbly flavor, but this drink was perfect.
“Would you like to know my first thought when you came over with your big dog that day we met?”
“I don’t know, do I?”
She bit her lip and leaned back. “It was sex. Just plain and simple lust. I wanted you.”
He raised both his eyebrows, not expecting that.
“The first time I saw you, I thought…that man belongs in my bed.”
He pointed over her shoulder. “It’s ten feet away.”
Sipping her champagne, she didn’t answer.
“Unless you changed your mind,” he added.
“I have.”
He almost choked on the drink, setting it on the table. “Oookay.”
“Because that was all I wanted that afternoon. And, again, a few months ago when I saw you at Bushrod’s.”
He nodded slowly. “I remember you were, uh, focused.”
“Now I want more.”
Taking a slow breath, he felt his pulse quicken. “More,” he repeated. “How much more?”
“I don’t know.” She sipped slowly, her gaze on his over the rim of the champagne flute. “But for the first time in my life, I’m willing to find out.”
“The first time?”
“I didn’t love Jeff, Liam,” she said softly. “We liked each other a lot when we were in school, and when we worked together, I was intrigued by him, but then he left. When he came back, he was different, and the only real connection we had was Christian. None of that is love.”
“And yet you hang on to all his stuff.”
She searched his face, gnawing on her lower lip. “I told you…” She shook her head. “Yeah, I guess I’m hanging on to it. Never said goodbye, never had closure, never even got to see his grave.” She looked down for a moment, then up at him. “I’ll put it in storage. Would that make you feel better?”
“What would make me feel better is not talking about him on our wedding night.”
She smiled. “Our wedding night. Can you believe it?”
“Yeah.” He stroked her cheek, curling a strand of hair over his finger. “You were worth the wait,” he admitted softly.
“A week? Hardly a wait.”
“Andi.” Did she really think that this week was the extent of his feelings for her? “I would have waited until Christian grew up and went to college.”
She inhaled softly as if the words stunned her. “Liam. Really?”
Sliding his hand down her arm, he turned her to face him. “You see, you have issues with certainty, but I don’t. I was certain about you pretty much from the day I met you. I knew we were meant for each other.”
“But what if I hadn’t come around?”
“You still haven’t come around,” he said on a soft laugh.
She looked for a long time right into his eyes. “I’m on my way,” she whispered. “I’m just not sure where we’re going.”
“No problem.” He took her glass and put it on the table next to his, then stood and took her hand. “I know exactly where we’re going.”
She came up to him, reaching both arms around his neck. “I have to ask you a question, Liam.”
“Anything.”
“Anything, really? You mean that? Because this is a tough one.”
“You can ask me anything, Andi, and I will answer one hundred percent honestly.”
She swallowed and looked into his eyes. “Do you love me?”
He looked at her, a little stunned by the question. And speechless. She really didn’t know?
He sighed in response, making her frown slightly, as if that little bit of an answer surprised or saddened her. How could he possibly answer that?
Silently, he glided his hand up her arm, over her shoulder, and around her neck. Pulling her closer, he kissed her lips lightly, then peppered more kisses over her jaw and down her throat.
She responded instantly, her chest rising and falling under every touch and every kiss, moaning in anticipation as he walked her back to the great big bed. He turned her around and slowly unzipped her dress, the single sexy sound punctuating his unspoken feelings.
Letting the lace rustle to the floor, he took a few seconds to admire her body and choice of a heart-wrecking white lace bra and a sliver of silk that barely covered exactly where he wanted to be.
Blood coursed through him as he eased her back onto the bed and loosened his tie, then unbuttoned his shirt. When he shook it off, she reached for him, grabbing his hand, pulling him down, kissing him with the pent-up need they both felt.
He still hadn’t said a word, undressing in the same silence, except for a soft groan of delight as they started to explore each other.
Do you love me?
The echo of her question played in his brain like the refrain of a song he couldn’t stop humming. He let the words roll around his head and heart as his fingers and lips found their way to her breasts, rocking and rolling when he eased himself on top of her.
He still didn’t say a word, not even her name, not a single endearment as her legs curled around him and her hands dragged over his body and down his abs. Every move was made in complete silence except for the swish of sheets, the caress of skin, the tear of the condom wrapper as he opened it.
He didn’t utter a single sound as he positioned himself over her and locked his gaze with hers, easing back before he entered her in one long, slow, perfect move. They both gasped when he filled her, though, and he fought the overwhelming need to move faster and harder and deeper.
He let her get used to him, watched her turn her head from side to side as pleasure took control, and finally held her gaze as they found the rhythm of this union.
The beat matched the thumping of his pulse and the short, shallow breaths they both fought for. His lower half twisted in a knot that had to be unraveled, but each second only made the ecstasy deeper and stronger. He watched her unfurl first, gritting his teeth, squinting at the sweat that trickled into his eyes, grinding harder until he lost the fight and let go, completely and totally satisfied.
Do you love me?
He slowly relaxed his whole body and pressed his cheek against hers to whisper one word in her ear. The only word. The truth.
“Yes.”
Chapter Twenty
Andi still hadn’t come down off her cloud by Monday afternoon, which was Labor Day, and meant no work or school. Liam had to go to Waterford to work with Zelda and Fritz for a while, then promised to be back for a little barbecue they’d planned. The minute he left, Andi made a decision.
It was time to let go of Jeff, the past, the fears, and the uncertainty. For the time being, Liam would be living here, which was fine. Wonder
ful, in fact. Of course, he’d sleep in her bed, as he had last night and would again tonight. She wanted to purge Jeff’s stuff without Liam, but with Christian. She wanted to do everything in her power to make sure that Christian knew Jeff would always be his father, but feel free to move on.
Christian, however, was not as interested in the dusty boxes spread out in the office as he was in the toy toolbox Gramma Finnie had found for him in some secret space in her third-floor suite. It was old enough to have belonged to Liam or his brothers, containing small but very real and functioning tools, like a hammer with a metal head and pliers that actually worked.
No wonder he was bored by old, dusty boxes.
With Jag resting in the doorway, Christian unpacked his little tools, hammered and screwed everything he could find, and could not have been more bored by the process of going through Daddy’s belongings.
She’d done this once, after she learned of his death and accepted the fact that his family didn’t want contact with her or Christian, so obviously they didn’t want Jeff’s things. She’d given his clothes to Goodwill, and stored the rest of his things in a few cartons. And there were some packages he’d shipped from Europe and had never opened that had been tucked in the back of the spare-room closet since the month he’d come back.
It was time to go through those, too, she thought, pulling out a box with a shipping label from Trier, Germany. She knew why she hadn’t examined these particular items when Jeff died, and now she could admit it to herself.
He’d gutted her when he’d gone to Europe to take the transfer they had both applied for and gotten together. She’d cried for the loss of her baby’s father and for the loss of her dreams of studying under some European masters.
She and Jeff were both building an expertise in the restoration of medieval landmarks, an arcane but wonderfully challenging area of architecture that would have surely led to the academic career she’d once thought she craved.
All that was lost when Christian was conceived.
“I can fix that!” he muttered from the corner, taking his hammer to a row of paper clips he’d taken from her desk to tap them on the rug. “I’m a carpenter now.”
She smiled at him, looking at the sun making his blond hair glisten, listening to his little-boy voice, and admiring every angle of his face and the way his childish body moved.
No, nothing was lost when Christian was conceived, she reminded herself. Everything was gained.
Turning back to the package, she found a pair of scissors to slice the tape.
She hadn’t even known he’d gone to Trier, she thought as she pulled it open, a little pang of jealousy tweaking. No doubt to work on the cathedral there. She’d written a paper on the massive church her last year of school, for a class in Roman-influenced design, a few facts slipping from her memory banks.
The Cathedral of Saint Peter, as it was known, was the oldest in Germany. They had something big there, as she recalled, that drew tourists in droves. Tons of art, too, all housed in a magnificent twelfth-century Romanesque structure that could have been a fortress as easily as a church.
Her paper had debunked the veracity of most of the relics they claimed to have, except a seamless robe that Christian tourists believed to have been worn by Jesus. There were other important pieces in the church, too, but they hadn’t been stored in her memory banks.
Some answers came as she peeked in the box and spied some tourism brochures from the cathedral, along with some rough sketches she recognized as Jeff’s distinct drawing style that must have been for a restoration project. Oh, how she’d have loved to have worked on that.
“Let’s put all the screws in this part, Jag.”
She looked up from the papers to gaze at Christian again. Instead, she worked on that. And that was better.
Deeper in the container was yet another wrapped package, covered with plain brown paper and no shipping label. She turned it over and opened the wrapping, taking it off as if opening a gift.
As the last piece came off, she let out a soft gasp of disbelief.
“What is it, Mommy?”
She blinked at the box, which was about ten inches square at the bottom but topped by a tall angular lid with four sides. Automatically lifting her hands as if she knew she shouldn’t be touching it, the possibility of what this was hit hard.
A reliquary?
No, that wasn’t possible. Although it certainly looked like an ancient container that was used to house beloved and blessed relics in ancient churches all over Europe, this had to be a knock-off Jeff had purchased at the gift shop.
Mother of pearl stones lined the top with gold embossing on an intricate carving. The box was wooden, but heavy, as if it had iron inside. And it sure felt…real.
Was this from the Cathedral of Trier? She dug deeper into those dormant memories again, coming up with nothing that looked quite like this. But she couldn’t be sure.
“That’s pretty, Mommy.” Christian had come closer, intrigued by the box. “Open it.”
She shook her head, instinctively knowing its value. “I need to figure out what it is first.”
And a reliquary missing from the Cathedral of Trier would be on the Internet. She pushed up to go get her laptop, which she’d left with her bag in the entryway. “Be right back, Christian. Don’t touch that.”
“Not even with my hammer?” he teased.
“Not funny.” She shot him a look from the doorway, where Jag was instantly up and focused as one of his charges was on the move. She signaled for him to stay, which he did, as she trotted down the stairs and remembered she’d left her dang laptop at the office because she was getting married this weekend and didn’t dream she’d do any work.
She could do a quick Google search on her phone, and she still might have a textbook from her Roman architecture class on the shelves in the living room. Perusing a row of titles, she dug around her memory for what that book had looked like, but had no recollection.
She pulled out one massive tome on the churches in the Constantine era, checking the index for a mention of Trier, but it hadn’t been included. Her phone was up in the office, so she could search online at least. And maybe the Vestal Valley College library would have some books on Trier. The collection was small, but this church was well known and included in many different classes on art history, world religions, and architecture. She might find something tomorrow before her class started.
“Mommy? Where did you go?”
“Coming!” She’d look on her phone and check the school library tomorrow.
Back in her office, she noticed that Christian had lost interest in her find, having returned his attention to the row of paper clips and tools. So she picked up the box very carefully and set it on a high shelf, and then grabbed her phone to open up a search on the relics of the Cathedral of Trier.
“Mommy, I’m bored.”
Of course he was. “Honey, look I’ve found some pictures of churches your daddy worked on,” she said. “Do you want to see? He was a very talented architect, and he helped rebuild these—”
“Can we take Jag to the square?”
She bit back a sigh, tapping her phone when an image of the cathedral came up, and dozens of relics, the pictures too small on this screen to really study. “Later. This is important, Christian. I want you to know who your father was.”
“I do know. Jefferson John Scott.” He stuffed his last tool into the metal box Gramma Finnie had given him. “I want to go to the square. With Jag.”
“After you look at these things and I get them ready for storage.”
His shoulders dropped in disappointment. “Mommy, please. You’re on your phone.”
“But I…” Oh, why push him? He was too young to care about Jeff’s work, but maybe he’d have an interest later in life. She’d go to the college early tomorrow and put in a few good hours of research on this box. “All right. It’s too nice to sit in here today anyway.” She pushed up and ruffled his blond hair. “Let’
s go, schmoe.”
He grinned, all bright and happy again. “Let’s go, schmoe!” he fired back, on his feet, holding his little toolbox, snapping for Jag.
As Jag and Christian bounded down the stairs, Andi turned and took one last look at the box she’d discovered, sitting on a shelf over her drafting table, questions plaguing her.
Why would he have that? Why would he not show it to her? How could she tell Christian about him when there was so much about Jeff Scott she actually didn’t know?
Downstairs, Jag’s barking rose to a crescendo, stealing her attention.
“Liam is here!” Christian called out, the excitement in his voice at this news impossible to ignore.
So why was she trying so hard to tell him about Jeff when a new man—a good, real, alive man who truly cared about them—made Christian so happy? A man who, judging by the way her heart soared as she hurried down to the front door, made her happy, too?
“What are you doing back so early?” she asked as she opened the door, stepping aside so Jag could greet him and Christian could jump up and down and show him the toolbox.
“Hey, I recognize that!” Liam lifted it into the air. “That’s my toolbox.”
“It’s mine!” Christian yelled. “Gramma Finnie gave it to me.”
Liam held it out, too far for Christian to reach. “I bet you a million dollars there’s an Amazing Spider-Man sticker on the bottom with his left hand missing three fingers.”
Christian’s jaw dropped, proving he’d already looked at the bottom. Liam turned the box and, sure enough, there was a slightly defaced Spider-Man sticker, circa early eighties. “But you can have it,” Liam said, handing him the box. “Hammer in good health, boyo.”
“I want to fix the pirate ship now!”
“With that?” Liam shot Andi a look of amused incredulity.
Leader of the Pack (The Dogfather Book 3) Page 21
