The Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke

by N. J. Walters

  “No problem. I’ve got it narrowed down to two possibilities.”

  “If you want I can pick up a couple of sample tins and we can try both of them.”

  She liked the way Shamus thought. “That would be perfect.”

  “We aim to please.” He gave her a look that almost melted her socks. One of the men cleared his throat, while the others shuffled their feet.

  “Well,” she said, feeling more idiotic at the moment just standing there staring at Shamus like a lovesick fool. “I’ll be in the office if you need me.”

  “No problem.” Shamus ignored her discomfort and dropped a quick kiss on her lips. It was obvious that he was letting the men know how things stood between them. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but it was too late to protest now. It was done and Shamus was already moving away.

  “We’ll measure for the door and the counter here in the foyer and figure out how much paint we’ll need. In the meantime, we’ve got several buckets of primer, wood filler, and sanders. We can get the walls ready for the paint.”

  “I leave it in your capable hands.” She nodded to the men. “Gentlemen.” She could see the speculation in their eyes, but it was more curious than malicious. There were no sly glances. Not quite sure what that meant, she left them and headed to the office. If renovations were going to start this fast, she needed to get working on the draperies.

  The sound of male voices hummed in the background as she picked up the phone and dialed.

  It was answered on the third ring. “Hello.”

  “Aunt Verna, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Cyndi wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Her aunt knew her too well. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  She’d been in contact with her aunt every other day, but hadn’t told her about the shooting incident or what she’d found in her father’s papers. The older woman was worried enough about her as it was.

  “I don’t believe you. If you won’t tell me, I’ll have to come out there.”

  Cyndi shook her head, knowing she had to tell her aunt something. She curled up in one of the large wingback chairs that flanked her father’s desk. These, she planned to keep and recover.

  “Nothing’s really wrong. Someone slashed all my tires this morning.”

  “What!”

  “It’s probably nothing, just some kid’s prank.”

  “Kid’s prank, my patootie.” Closing her eyes, Cyndi could picture her aunt’s scowl.

  “No, really,” she rushed to reassure the older woman. “The authorities are looking into it.”

  “I don’t like the idea of you being there alone.”

  “I’m not alone,” she blurted out before she could stop herself. She could practically hear the wheels in Verna’s brain spinning.

  “Do tell.”

  Cyndi laughed at her aunt’s dry comment. “I mentioned him before.” She curled her legs over the side of the chair and swung her feet. “Shamus O’Rourke.”

  “The same O’Rourkes you had trouble with years ago?” Sometimes she wished Aunt Verna didn’t know every detail about her past.

  “Yeah, but he’s different.” She hesitated. “He makes me feel…special.”

  “Now I really have to come for a visit.”

  “Don’t pack your bags just yet,” Cyndi laughed. “Most of the furniture is gone, and I’m about to start tearing up the rest of the place.”

  “Good. That old mausoleum needed it.”

  “That’s why I called.” Cyndi swung her legs back to the floor and ambled over to her father’s desk where she’d left her renovation notes. “I need fabric samples. There’s no store in town that has what I need. Do you think Janine would overnight me some sample books? Tell her I promise to only keep them for a few days and it will be worth her while. I’ve got a heck of a lot of windows to cover and furniture to reupholster.” Janine Evans was a friend of Aunt Verna’s who owned a fabric and sewing shop.

  “I don’t think that would be any problem. Let me call her and get back to you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Her aunt cleared her throat. “If you need me, you know I’d be there in a second.”

  Cyndi’s throat tightened with emotion. “I know,” she whispered. “I love you too.”

  Her aunt sniffed. “Enough of this maudlin sentiment. I’ll call you as soon as I talk to Janine.”

  Cyndi shook her head as she said goodbye to her aunt and hung up the phone. For all her gruff, no-nonsense exterior, Verna Marks had a heart of gold and was as tough as a marshmallow with those she loved.

  Reenergized, Cyndi grabbed an empty box and yanked open the first drawer of her father’s desk.

  —

  Shamus was feeling better than he’d felt in days as he let himself back into Cyndi’s home.

  His family was thawing slightly toward his relationship with Cyndi and that meant the world to him. The fact that Burke had sent a crew to her house spoke volumes.

  Carrying the mail in one hand and a bag with a couple of sample cans of paint in the other, he headed to the office. He was certain Cyndi would still be working. When he’d stopped in earlier to let her know he was running into town, she’d been knee deep in boxes and excited about books of fabric swatches her aunt’s friend was sending by courier. Women got excited over the strangest things. But he didn’t care. It had put a smile on her face and that was all that mattered to him. It was better than the worry that had been there earlier.

  Shamus had dropped into the sheriff’s office long enough to talk to Patrick. There were no leads on the tire slashing, but they were still interviewing neighbors. He could tell that his brother was getting more concerned about Cyndi’s safety. One incident could be written off as a horrible prank. Two showed a pattern. He just hoped there wouldn’t be a third.

  Pushing open the office door, he peered into the room. It certainly looked different than it had this morning. Boxes were piled neatly against one wall, two chairs and several small tables had been moved to the far side of the room, and the rest of it was stacked in front of the desk.

  Shamus assumed the few items on the far end of the room were staying and the rest were going. He also noted the painting in front of the safe had been replaced by one with flowers on it.

  Linda had taken the one Cyndi didn’t like when she’d left.

  Cyndi was currently measuring windows, muttering under her breath and jotting figures down in her notebook, which always seemed to be at hand these days.

  “Hey.” She jerked at the sound of his voice, but when she turned around, she was smiling.

  He could see the strain in her face no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

  “Hey yourself. You weren’t gone long. Were you?” She pushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes as she walked toward him.

  “Long enough.” He dropped a kiss on her very kissable mouth and handed her the mail. “I picked up eight sample cans of paint. I figured we might as well look at the choices for the library and the office as well.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Cyndi dropped her notebook on an antique side table and began to rifle through the mail. “Bills, bills, junk, junk.” She tossed the envelopes into two separate piles.

  “I saw Patrick while I was in town.”

  Cyndi stopped, envelope poised in the air. “Any news?”

  The tension gripping her was palpable. She’d done a very good job of hiding it, but he knew she was worried. And why wouldn’t she be? She’d been threatened, not once, but twice, in two separate acts of violence.

  Shamus was just grateful she hadn’t run at the first sign of trouble. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she had, but then they never would have had the opportunity to be together.

  He shook his head. “No. But they’re still talking to the neighbors.”

  She nodded and went back to examining the mail. He could see the resignation in her face and knew she didn’t expect answers. Frustration tore at him that there
was nothing he could do or say to change things. He deposited the bag of paint samples on a nearby chair. He needed to hold Cyndi in his arms, if only for a moment.

  She was staring at a plain manila envelope, frowning as he reached for her. “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  He leaned over her shoulder, wrapping his arm around her waist. It was addressed to her, but there was no return address. He got a bad feeling in his gut as she ripped it open. “Maybe you should leave this until later?”

  “Why?” She glanced up at him and reached inside.

  He couldn’t come up with a reason fast enough and she withdrew a sheet of paper. Block letters that someone had obviously cut from a newspaper or magazine covered the page. The message was simple. LEAVE TOWN BEFORE YOU GET HURT. NEXT TIME IT WON’T BE YOUR TIRES THAT GET SLASHED.

  Cyndi swayed and he tightened his grip on her, easing her down into a chair. “Son of a bitch,” he swore. He yanked out his phone and placed a quick call to his brother. Cyndi was sitting there, staring at the letter, her face devoid of any color or expression.

  When he ended the call, he crouched down in front of her and gently eased the sheet of paper out of her tightly clenched fingers. Such a small item, but it had done incredible damage. Anger at the unknown coward threatening his woman coursed through his veins. No one would hurt her.

  He wouldn’t allow it.

  “Everything will be okay,” he promised. “Patrick is on the way.”

  “The sheriff is going to be sick of coming to this house. I’ve caused him nothing but trouble since I got here.”

  Shamus wanted to swear again and kick something. The soft smile that had graced her face when he’d walked into the room a few minutes ago was gone. Now, she looked tired and worn.

  He observed faint, dark circles under her eyes and damned himself for not noticing them earlier.

  Cyndi was worn out with worry and late nights.

  “None of this is your fault.”

  “Isn’t it?” She straightened her shoulders and, once again, he was reminded of her backbone of steel. “All of this is because of who I am and who my family is.”

  “No,” he disagreed. “All of this is because of some nutcase with a need for revenge, who was too afraid to face your father, but isn’t afraid to taunt and torment a woman.”

  Cyndi shook her head and turned away from him. He caught her chin in his hand and drew her face back to him. “None of this is your fault.” His gut clenched. He could almost hear her contemplating her options, one of which was leaving town. He couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving Jamesville. Leaving him.

  He could tell she didn’t believe him and there was no time for him to say more. Cars were pulling up outside. It was obvious Patrick was back with some of his deputies. Sighing in frustration, he eased himself back up and stared down at the woman who owned his heart. She didn’t even look at him.

  There was a loud thump on the front door, followed quickly by a ring of the doorbell. “I’m coming!” he yelled as he turned and stalked toward the front door.

  He practically ripped the door open to find his brother with two deputies standing behind him. “Come on in.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Cyndi sat through yet another interview with the sheriff’s deputies. There were no more clues this time than there had been with the shooting or the tire-slashing incident. The sheriff promised to talk to the staff at the post office, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. The postmark was local, but it could have been dropped into any mailbox around town. There was no way of knowing where it originated.

  There was still the possibility of fingerprints, but that too wasn’t likely. Several people at the post office, as well as she and Shamus had handled the envelope. If there were any prints, they’d probably be smudged. Still, it was a slim lead.

  Shamus ushered the deputies out when they were done. They’d actually come across another envelope in the pile of mail. It seems the person had sent two. Cyndi just hadn’t been picking up her mail regularly. There was a bigger chance of finding a useful fingerprint on that letter, but she didn’t hold out much hope. If it was the same person making the threats, they’d been smart up to now.

  She heard male voices in the background, but ignored them. Her mind was whirling with the fact that someone truly wanted to hurt her. The shooting incident had been scary, but somehow the letters were more personal. She shivered, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. Having all that venom and anger directed at her was disconcerting, to say the least.

  “Hey.” Shamus reached down and took her hands in his. Warmth. Shamus was always so warm.

  She didn’t know what to say to him, so she said nothing. What did you say to a man at a time like this? Sorry to involve you? There was no way to apologize for what their association had put him through. His life had been running along quite smoothly before he’d met her.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.” He pulled her out of the chair and into his arms. “I know you think this is your fault, but it’s not.” His voice was a deep rumble as she rested her face against his solid chest. “If you want to leave, do it for yourself, not because you think it will make my life better. But I can assure you that not having you here certainly won’t improve the quality of my life.”

  “How can you say that?” Although she wanted to do nothing more than burrow into his warmth, she forced herself to push away from him and stand on her own two feet.

  “Because it’s true.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and arched an eyebrow at him.

  He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair, dislodging the tie that held it back. His long hair fell around his face and he cursed and shoved it aside. “Look, my life was fine before I met you. I had a great job I loved, good friends and family, and dated whenever I wanted. I had my own home and truck and a place in the community.”

  It made her stomach tighten to listen to him, especially the part about dating when he wanted. Probably with younger, prettier women, who didn’t come with two tons of emotional baggage and a crazed stalker. “That’s my point,” she whispered.

  He shook his head and took a step toward her. They were standing toe-to-toe now, his work boots touching her sneakers, his face mere inches from hers. “It was great, but there was a void in my life that’s been getting bigger the past few months. I had no one special in my life to share it with.”

  “I’m sure any of the many women you dated would be glad to fill that void for you,” she almost snarled. The thought of him with another woman made her want to do violence.

  Shamus lowered his head until their foreheads were touching. “None of them sparked any interest inside me. Not until I met you.” He nuzzled her temple and brushed a kiss against her cheek. “There was something about you from the moment I saw you. I knew you were special and I knew you were meant for me.”

  “How can you be so sure?” She desperately wanted to believe his words. She’d felt the same way about him. It was as if they’d already known one another, the connection was so immediate and so deep. It was almost frightening how fast she’d fallen for Shamus.

  “I know myself.” His lips hovered over hers, not quite touching. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her mouth. “I’ve always known that there was one special woman for me and that I’d know her the moment I laid eyes on her. It was like that with my parents.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup. My mom used to tell me the story of how she and dad met.” Shamus kissed her bottom lip, tugging gently on it with his teeth. She gasped, her lips parting. “My mom was working at the old general store when he stopped in to buy some cigarettes. He was a trucker and on a whim pulled into this store on the edge of town. One look, she said, was all it took.”

  Shamus’s large hands rubbed up and down her back, urging her closer.

  “Then what happened?” Her voice was low, almost breathless as Shamus traced his tongue over her top lip.
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  “Hmmm…my father started stopping at the store every time he passed through town. One time when he came through, he had an engagement ring. They got married, settled down and had a family. My mom cried the day they tore down the old general store.”

  Her eyes welled with tears. “That’s so beautiful and yet so sad.”

  “It is,” he agreed. “Yet, they had almost seventeen years together before he died. I asked my mom once, before she died, if she regretted marrying my dad. That if she’d known he would die so young, would she still have done it.”

  “What did she say?” Cyndi knew Shamus was sharing something very special with her, sharing part of himself. In spite of her resolve to gain some distance, she slid her hands up his chest, wrapping them around his neck.

  “She was appalled that I’d even say such a thing. She told me every day together was a gift. That no one knew what the future held and all you could do was take one day at a time. If two people loved one another, then that was enough. That was everything.” His eyes darkened to a stormy gray as he stared at her. “She was right. Any time I get with you is a gift, no matter what happens.”

  “Oh, Shamus.” Her fingers tightened around his neck, tangling in his hair. This man meant everything to her. He filled up an empty spot inside her that she hadn’t even realized was there.

  So she told him so.

  “I don’t know how it happened, but you’re incredibly important to me. I don’t know what the future will bring. Someone is trying very hard to drive me away and, to be honest, they’re getting close to succeeding. I’m scared.” His arms tightened around her. “But I’m no coward, not anymore, and no bully is going to drive me away.”

  “I’m selfish,” he whispered into her ear. “I want you to stay with me, but I don’t want you to get hurt. If Patrick thinks you should leave, then I’m going to put you in your car myself. Nothing is worth your safety. If I have to pack up and move to Vermont, I will.”

  Cyndi was dumbstruck. “You’d do that?”

  Shamus shook his head. “Of course I would. What do you think I’ve been trying to tell you here? I love you.”