She’d kept herself from going to that club, looking for him, for months. They’d reconnected anyway, though. Surely that had to be a sign.
A month, she decided. She’d give them a month, then she’d let him go.
She stood abruptly and grabbed the empty beer bottles, rinsing them and tossing them into the recycling. Jamie stood to hand her the pizza box, and she shoved it into the trash.
He leaned against the wall, a half-smile on his face. “You in a hurry or something?”
“Or something.” She leaned into him, nuzzling his neck. “I have plans for you.”
“What a coincidence.” His arms surrounded her and held her tightly. “I have some things in mind for you, too.”
***
Four days later, Jamie followed her up the steps of a brown brick bungalow on a street that looked like the one where he’d grown up. Kids’ toys on the sidewalk, bikes lying on their sides in the tiny patches of front lawn, a baseball game going on in the street.
“This where you grew up?” he asked.
“Sort of.” She turned to look at him, and the sundress she wore fluttered around her legs. It reminded him of the way those legs had been wrapped around his waist a couple of hours earlier.
The way she’d moaned his name as she came.
He needed his hands on her again, but they were on the front porch of her family’s house. Dial it down, Evans.
He wasn’t sure that was possible.
Ever since their fight, they’d spent every night together and most of every day, as well. He’d set up a card table in her office, complete with a stool to elevate her ankle, and she’d worked while he hammered and sawed in the outer room.
Focus. He couldn’t think about what they’d done on that card table two days ago. He’d had to re-attach one of its legs afterward.
“What do you mean by ‘sort of’?”
“I thought I told you. This is my sister’s house.” Her eyes softened as she glanced at the door. “She and her husband pretty much raised me – I even moved in with them when I was a teen-ager.” Her eyes clouded. “I was my mother’s surprise when she was in her forties, and she didn’t have the patience or the energy to deal with me by the time I was sixteen. Rose is almost twenty years older than me, and her oldest kid is only a few years younger.”
“And you guys do this every month?”
“Yeah. Sunday dinner.” She hesitated, and he thought she looked nervous. “I’ve never brought anyone before. I’m a little nervous.”
His chest tightened. Wow. “Are they…” He cleared his throat. “Are they going to give you a hard time?”
“I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you. Five cops giving you the once-over at the same time? Might send you running.”
“Not going to happen, Helen.” Hadn’t she figured that out by now? Helen was it for him. “Let the cops do their worst. I’m sticking.”
As she reached for the door, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him, kissing her. Before either of them could get carried away, he let her go. “I like being your first.”
She rolled her eyes, the reaction he’d been aiming for, and opened the door. He stepped into a house that smelled of garlic and butter and spaghetti sauce, and an older woman who looked remarkably like Helen hurried forward.
“Helen. It’s been so long.”
Helen hugged her tightly. “It’s been a month, Rosie.”
“Way too long.” She glanced down at Helen’s foot, still encased in the boot. “How much longer until you get rid of that?”
“Monday.” She reached behind her, searching for his hand, and Jamie entwined his fingers with hers. But she resisted, clasping his hand to draw him forward, then letting him go. “Rose, this is Jamie Evans. He’s doing the remodeling at my office. Jamie, this is my sister, Rose Donovan.”
“Very nice to meet you,” Jamie said, handing her the bottle of wine he’d brought.
“You too, Jamie.” Rose studied him, as if she could tell what he and her sister had been doing, and he shifted his feet. Finally she smiled and took his hand. “Wonderful to have you here.” It felt as if he’d passed a test of some sort.
“Are we the first ones here?” Helen asked. He thought she sounded hopeful.
“Of course not. They’re all in the kitchen, fighting over the antipasto. Come in before it’s all gone.”
There were four men and a woman in the kitchen, drinking wine and eating olives, artichoke hearts and cheese from a large plate. He’d met Connor and Quinn and Mia. The other two men looked like their brothers – same blue eyes, same black hair. All five of them turned to watch as he stepped into the kitchen behind Helen.
“Hey,” Quinn said, glancing at Helen. “You brought him.” Holding out his hand, he said, “Good to see you, Evans.” He grinned at Helen. “I think this is the first time you actually listened to me.”
“No.” Connor shook his head. “There was that other time when you were about twenty. You told her not to mix vodka with orange soda, and she promised she never would.”
“I’ve been trying to forget that evening.”
Connor shook his hand, then Mia. Then the brother who looked the most serious stuck out his hand. “I’m Mac. This is Brendan.” He waited until Jamie had shaken Brendan’s hand. “How’d you meet Helen?”
“I’m doing the repair work on her office,” Jamie said easily. “We’d met once before, briefly. We’re getting re-acquainted.”
Mac studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Welcome.”
Before he could say anything, Helen stepped up to Mac and pushed her index finger into his chest. “I know what you’re thinking, Mr. FBI agent. There will be no background checks.” She leaned in until her nose was inches from Mac’s. “Are we clear on that?”
A muscle twitched in Mac’s jaw, and he finally nodded once. “Yeah.”
“I’ll find out if you do, you know. And hell will rain down upon you.”
“What are you going to do, kick me with that boot?”
Helen smiled. “Won’t even have to do that. I just have to wait until you bring someone to dinner.”
“Fine.” Mac scowled. “I won’t run him.”
“Damn straight you won’t.” Mia shouldered in next to Helen. “Us women are outnumbered in this family, but we’re more devious. So watch your step, Mac.”
Brendan leaned against the counter, a faint smile on his mouth. Helen turned to him. “What?”
“I’m thinking I can torture the guy as much as I want. Because your threat doesn’t mean anything to me. I won’t be bringing anyone to dinner.”
Rose patted her youngest son’s face. “You just sealed your fate, Bren.”
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Sorry, Ma. I’m a happy bachelor.”
Jamie leaned into Helen as he watched the family interact. His family used to be this way, too – talking trash to each other, shifting allegiances, constant poking. Still were, when they got together. Which wasn’t often enough.
Rose nudged him. “Doesn’t look like they’re scaring you away.”
He wasn’t about to tell her, but nothing could scare him away from Helen. “Reminds me of my family. There are four of us, and we’re the same way when we get together.”
“Good,” Rose said happily. “You and my Helen have a lot in common, then.”
He hoped they’d have a lot more in common in the future. Possibly even a last name. “We’re still getting to know one another.”
“I’m so happy she brought you to dinner.” Without waiting for an answer, she herded everyone toward the dining room. “Let’s eat before my manicotti dries out.”
***
Helen was quiet as he drove toward her apartment. They’d been spending most nights there because his security system consisted of a lock. Probably a cheap one, at that. It was on the house when he’d bought it, and he’d never bothered to change it.
“I like your family a lot,” he finally said.
She nodded without looking at him. “Yeah, they’re great. They weren’t even too hard on you.”
“Except for Mac. He really wanted to do a background check on me.”
That made her glance at him and smile. “He won’t.”
Jamie shrugged. “Wouldn’t matter if he did. He wouldn’t find anything.”
“But wouldn’t it bother you? It would piss me off if someone did that to me.”
“I don’t think I have to worry about it. You and Mia straightened him out.”
“Yeah. The women stick up for each other.”
“The two of you and your sister are kind of scary together. I’m looking forward to getting to know them better. All of the Donovans, actually.”
If they hadn’t been stopped at a red light, he wouldn’t have been watching her. He wouldn’t have seen the way her shoulders tensed.
She didn’t say anything more until they turned onto her block. When he parked his truck as close to her building as he could, she swung around in the seat. “Jamie, we have to talk.”
Chapter 9
Helen clung to his hand as they walked toward her building, but she kept her gaze on the sidewalk. It worried him. She wasn’t a clingy woman.
And since the night of the fight, she’d been far more open with him. Comfortable. As if she was enjoying being with him as much as he loved being with her.
Almost as if she loved him, too.
He didn’t know what was bothering her, but he tightened his grip, determined to reassure her. He’d thought the afternoon went well. He liked her family and after the first few minutes of chest thumping and alpha-male posturing, he and the Donovans had gotten along great.
Or so he’d thought.
She untangled her fingers from his to unlock her door, but didn’t reclaim his hand as they ascended the stairs. That was new, too. In the past few days, they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other.
He was pretty sure Helen wasn’t leading him up to her apartment to have her wicked way with him. The words ‘we have to talk’ were never a sign of impending sex.
She unlocked her door and walked in without waiting for him to follow. He locked the door slowly, listening to the thump of her boot as she headed for the back door in the kitchen. That was their routine – walk in, check the locks, make sure everything was the way they’d left it.
Usually it was accompanied by talk and laughter.
Tonight’s silence was unnerving.
She stayed in the kitchen longer than was necessary to check the door. When she headed back toward the living room, she walked slowly. As if she was dreading the coming conversation.
Her face was pale when she reached him, but at least she met his gaze. He couldn’t read a thing in the blue depths of her eyes, but she reached out her hand for his. “Let’s sit down, Jamie.”
He settled himself on the couch, staying as close to her as possible. She tried to remove her hand from his grasp, but he tightened his grip. Whatever she was going to say, she would do it while connected to him.
“I’m not being fair to you,” she finally said.
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I’m being selfish. I’ve loved the past week – spending time with you, getting to know you.” She squeezed his hand. “I never knew sex could be like that. Like what we have together.”
“Ditto, Helen. I feel the same way. So what’s the problem?”
“I told myself I’d take a month. Enjoy you and what we have together. But the more time I spend with you, the more I don’t want to let go. After a month, it’ll be almost impossible.”
“Why would you worry about letting me go? And what’s with the month thing? I want to be with you for a lot more than a month.”
“I know,” she whispered, her hand tightening on his. “But you want things I can’t give you.”
“What things?” he asked, mystified. He had no idea where she was going with this.
“A family,” she said, her voice so low he barely heard her. “Kids. You’ve told me more than once that you want kids. And you should have kids. You’ll be a wonderful father.”
“Why is that a problem?”
“I can’t have kids.”
His heart stopped for a moment. “What do you mean?” he finally asked.
She drew her hand away from his. “I got pregnant when I was sixteen.” She swallowed. “That’s when I moved in with Rose and Tom. I was a wild child, and I fought with my parents constantly.” She shook her head. “Years of therapy made me realize I was trying to get my parents’ attention, and I did it in all the wrong ways.”
His heart ached for the pain he heard in her voice. “Everyone makes mistakes, Helen. I’m not going to judge you. I’ve made plenty of my own mistakes.”
“Not like this one.” A tear trailed down her cheek and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. “While I was trying to figure out what to do, I had a miscarriage.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
She stared at their joined hands. “I wasn’t sure if I was sad or relieved. Which made me realize I was completely not ready to become a mother.”
“A miscarriage at sixteen doesn’t mean you can’t have children later.”
“I know that.” She let him go and clasped her hands together in her lap. Her fingertips were white where they pressed against her knuckles.
“Why do you think you can’t have children, then?”
“It’s what the doctor said,” she whispered. “He’d been our family physician for years – he took care of Rose when she was a baby, then me. He examined me after the miscarriage, and told me he’d be surprised if I could ever have children.” A single tear dripped onto her joined hands.
Oh, God. Poor Helen. “Why? What happened?”
“He thought I had the miscarriage because I had a weak cervix.”
“You’ve had it checked since then, right?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I told my OB-Gyn. She said it looked fine, but they couldn’t tell until I was actually pregnant.”
“So you’re not sure if you can have kids or not,” he said carefully.
She jumped up from the couch and paced to the window. “I probably can’t. That’s what’s important.”
He stood up and walked to where Helen stood, her arms wrapped around her waist. He slid his hands beneath her arms and drew her against him. “Aren’t you jumping the gun a little?” he murmured into her ear. “We’ve known each other for a week, Helen. One week. And you’re dumping me because you know I want kids and you think you can’t have them.” He pressed his mouth against her neck, tasted her salty-sweet skin.
“I like you, Jamie. I like spending time with you. I like having sex with you.” She swallowed, and he felt her muscles ripple against his mouth. “But seeing you so comfortable with my family, so happy when you’re talking about kids and big families – I can’t let this go any farther. I can’t take that dream away from you.”
He couldn’t tease her about this. Couldn’t laugh at her. Helen was serious. She meant every word she was saying. “How old are you, Helen?”
“Thirty-four.” She swallowed again.
“So it’s been almost twenty years since you lost your baby. A lot has changed since then. I’m not going to let you dump me when neither of us has any idea whether you can have kids or not.”
“Even if I can have kids – I’m thirty-four years old. I could have a couple. But not a houseful. That’s what you said you wanted.”
Yeah, he had. He adored kids and wanted a family. “So you think I’m going to dump you?” He was crazy about her. And if they found out she couldn’t have kids, there were other options.
He didn’t just want sex with Helen. He wanted a future with her. A future they would figure out together.
“I think it would be best if you left now,” she said. But a tear streaked down her cheek.
“I don’t,” he said calmly. He turned her in his arms, held her shoulders as
he studied her devastated expression. “Do you really want me to go? To walk away and never see you again?”
“It would be best.”
“Not what I asked. Is that what you want?”
She bit her lip to hold back a sob. “Of course it’s not what I want. But better now than a month or six months or a year from now. Better to make a clean break and move on.”
“Better for who, Helen?”
“For you, of course.”
“I don’t get a say in this decision?”
“I’m trying to make it easy for you.”
This wasn’t the Helen he knew. There was something else going on. He pressed his fingers into her waist. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“What?” She lifted her chin. “You don’t think this is a big enough deal? That I might not be able to have kids?”
“I think that’s lawyerly deflection.” He cupped her cheek with one hand. “Tell me, Helen.”
“There’s nothing more.” But she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Okay.” He brushed his mouth over hers. “I can wait. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her shoulders sagged as if she’d been holding herself upright through the force of her will. “Better for you if you did,” she said quietly.
“I don’t think so.” He drew her close and wrapped his arms around her. She nestled into him, and he wondered if she realized it. Realized how instinctively her body sought his. “I’ve waited a long time for you, Helen. If you think I’m going to run at the first sign of trouble, you don’t know me very well.”
“I know you well enough to know what you want.”
“You have no idea what I want.” He wanted her. And he was pretty sure she wanted him. He kissed her, deepening the kiss as she moved against him. When she moaned into his mouth, he swept her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. If his words couldn’t convince her, he’d let his body persuade her.
He didn’t want to let her go long enough to strip her clothes away, but he needed to get that sundress off her. It had fluttered around her legs all day, taunting him with the curves it revealed. Its low neck had hinted at her cleavage, the dark valley between her breasts that he needed to taste.
He managed to lower the top of the dress with one hand, ignoring the tiny tearing sound he heard as he slipped the strap over her shoulder. Beneath the dress, she wore a strapless bra that did nothing to hide the swell of her breasts.
Love Me Page 7
