“You export cellular phones to Cairo?”
“I’m considering the possibility.”
“You’re going to Cairo, for three months, to consider selling phones there? And you never mentioned this to me?”
Ian shifted uncomfortably under Cara’s narrowed gaze. If this went any further, it would look like a lovers’ spat. Hell, it already did, he thought with irritation.
But nobody here knew who Cara really was, or why she was here. And this most certainly wasn’t the time to tell everyone. He hadn’t even decided yet if he was going to tell them at all. Let them assume she was upset he was leaving because she cared about him, he decided. What difference did it make, anyway?
He smiled at Cara, a slow, knowing smile that only lovers share, then leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Will you miss me, darling?”
Green flames shot from her eyes, but she forced a smile. “I was looking forward to showing you a few sights in Philadelphia. One in particular, that won’t always be there.”
“I think we should all go,” Drew said around a mouthful of potatoes. “Families are supposed to take trips and be together.”
Cara’s smile widened, and she held his steady gaze. “From the mouths of babes,” she said softly.
It’s a conspiracy, he thought with a sigh, deciding to keep silent while everyone chatted about the wedding plans tomorrow. Hell, every time he opened his mouth, it got him into trouble, anyway.
When they finished eating, Lucas suggested cigars on the patio, but Julianna shook her head.
“Later, sweetheart. Maggie and I are taking Cara upstairs, and you boys have dish duty. We’ll have coffee and dessert when we come back down.”
Dish duty? Ian grinned at Lucas, who seemed to take Julianna’s order in stride. He was already stacking dirty plates. And damn if Nick wasn’t helping.
Not this boy, Ian thought, and started to back out of the dining room.
“Ian.”
Julianna stopped him. She’d scooped up one tiny pink bundle in one arm, and a blue bundle in the other. “You’ve got baby detail.”
Before he could get a word out, she’d deposited one baby in each of his arms, kissed his cheek and ushered the women upstairs. Lucas and Nick grinned at him, then hustled out of the dining room, their arms full.
Alone. They’d left him alone. With two babies.
Panic slammed into his ribs. He couldn’t breathe. Not this, anything but this. He’d disarmed a terrorist’s bomb in Sudan, jumped from airplanes at thirty thousand feet into enemy territory, been shot at too many times to remember. And that all seemed like a piece of cake next to holding these little bundles in his arms.
Desperate, he looked up and saw Cara watching him from the doorway.
“You look a little pale, Shawnessy.” A smile touched her pink lips. “Something wrong?”
“I—” He had to clear his throat. “I don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Babies,” he croaked.
“But you are,” she said sweetly. “ And a fine job you’re doing.”
“Couldn’t you…can’t you…” He was too scared to move, but his look implored.
“Sorry. My hands are full. Unless, of course…”
“Anything,” he pleaded. “Just name it.”
“Anything?”
Knowing exactly where this was headed, he frowned fiercely. “You’re a wicked woman, Sinclair.”
She laughed at that. “Compliments will get you everywhere, darling. See you for dessert.”
When she turned on her pretty heels and walked away, he almost caved in and told her he’d go to Philadelphia with her.
Damn woman!
Sweat dampened his brow as he stared at the babies in his arms. They couldn’t weigh more than a feather each, their bodies were hardly bigger than his hands. The blue bundle was sleeping, but the pink one was wide awake. Her eyes, surrounded by thick, dark lashes, were big and blue, her skin the palest pink. She smelled brand-new, clean and freshly dusted with powder. She yawned a tiny perfect little O with her tiny perfect little lips, then looked right at him with her great big eyes and smiled.
His chest felt strange, like he’d swallowed a balloon. The baby smiled again, this time adding a soft little cooing sound, and the balloon inside him swelled.
He blinked several times, then glanced around. When he was certain he was alone and no one was watching, he looked back at the fragile little bundle in his arms and surprised himself by smiling back.
This time she not only smiled, she laughed.
God help me, he thought miserably, and sank down on a dining room chair. For the first time in his life he envied another man.
Eight
When the phone rang the next morning, Cara fumbled blindly for the receiver on the table beside the sofa. She’d argued with Ian the night before over where she would sleep—on the bed or the couch. But despite his desire to always have his own way, she’d held her ground until he’d finally stomped off to bed. It was a small victory, but when it came to Ian, her pride needed every stroke it could get.
She heard the sound of the shower running as she picked up the receiver on the third ring.
“Hello?” she mumbled, then buried her head under her pillow to block out the light.
“Who is this?” The question was clipped, the voice distinctly feminine.
Cara started to ask the same, then realized she was in Ian’s cabin, answering his phone. And the woman at the other end of the phone sounded extremely irritated.
“Ah, this is Cara Sinclair.” She sat, dragged a hair through her hair. “I’m a friend of Ian’s.”
“Tell Ian that Kelly Jordan is on the phone and I need to speak with him right away.”
Well, she certainly was bossy, Cara thought, and made a rude face at the phone. Somebody certainly needed to teach this woman a few manners.
She glanced at the bathroom door, heard the squeak of the shower faucet as it was turned off. Definitely bad timing.
“I’m afraid he can’t come to the phone right now, Miss Jordan,” Cara said in her most secretary-efficient tone. “But I can take a message, or have him call you back when he’s free.”
There was a muffled oath at the other end of the line. “You tell Killian Shawnessy that he better call me back immediately or I’ll—’
The phone was suddenly wrenched from her hand. Ian stood beside her, wearing nothing but a towel around his lean hips.
“Dammit, Jordan, I told you I’d call,” he barked into the phone, then softened his voice as he glanced at Cara. “I’ll explain later, but I can’t talk now.”
Cara told herself it was the surprise of Ian’s sudden appearance that prevented her from tearing her eyes away. But for goodness sake, where was a girl to look when a man like Ian was standing two feet away, practically naked?
Certainly not at the floor.
Water still dripped from his hair onto his powerful shoulders, then down his broad chest until it disappeared into the edge of the white towel slung low around his lean hips. His legs were long and muscled, sprinkled with the same dark hair that covered his chest and dropped like a V over his flat stomach.
Her heart lurched, and though propriety dictated she look away, she couldn’t. Besides, she wasn’t shy about the male physique. She had four brothers, and had also spent two years on her high school swim team where Speedos left little to the imagination. She considered herself an expert judge on the configuration of the male anatomy.
And Killian Shawnessy was one fine configuration.
He spoke briskly into the phone, then hung up and turned to her. “That was Jordan,” he said hesitantly. “One of my…business associates.”
Jordan. Cara remembered the name now. When she’d phoned Ian two nights ago, after she heard someone at her front door, he’d called her Jordan. Her heart sank. Business associates didn’t call at 2:00 a.m.
“It’s none of my business who she is.” She didn’t dare look anywhere bu
t at his face. “I apologize if my being here causes any problems for you.”
“It’s not like that. Jordan is, well, Jordan is just Jordan.” He dragged a hand through his wet hair, then took a step toward her. When her eyes widened at his approach, he glanced down at his attire, or more accurately, lack of attire, and stopped. “Look, Cara, it’s not what you’re thinking.”
“I’m not thinking anything.”
But she was. She was thinking plenty. About the clean masculine scent of his body, about the towel draped loosely around his hips, if that towel just happened to slip away…
“Umm, if you’re finished with the bathroom,” she said a little too breathlessly, “could I get in there for a few minutes?”
But she didn’t move.
“Sure.”
He didn’t move, either.
The annoyance that had been in his eyes only a moment before quickly turned to something else. Something deeply erotic and incredibly electric.
They stared at each other; the tension in the air tightened around them. Her entire body responded to his closeness. Her heart pounded, her breathing turned shallow, her skin felt tight.
When he reached out to her, Cara knew she should run, but it was impossible to move. He touched her face, skimmed her cheek with his hand, then brushed his thumb over her lips. With a will of their own, her eyes slowly closed, and she leaned into his touch.
“Is there anything you need?” he asked softly. “For the shower…?”
He moved closer still, so close she could feel the heat of his body…
The phone rang again.
She jumped. On an oath Ian pulled his hand back and snatched the receiver. Cara took the opportunity to scramble off the couch and head for the bathroom.
“No problem, Nick, it’s fine,” she heard Ian say tightly. “You didn’t catch me at a bad time.”
She paused at the bathroom door, slowly looked back over her shoulder. Ian turned at the same time, and their eyes met, held for one long, heart-stopping minute.
Before her knees gave out, before her pride completely disintegrated, she quickly shut the door and locked it.
Ian stood at the front of the small church beside Nick and watched Maggie float down the aisle on her father’s arm. The wedding march poured from the church organ, and huge bouquets of flowers scented the warm lateafternoon air. Several ladies dabbed at their eyes, while Madge, clutching a tissue to her generous breasts, sobbed loudly. Beside her, Walt stretched his thick neck and pulled at his tie.
He knew exactly how Walt felt, Ian thought. His own collar felt three sizes too small. The only thing that made him break into a sweat faster than babies were weddings.
But hey, he’d take a bullet for Nick or Lucas, just as they would for him. If Nick wanted him to stand up here looking trussed-up like a turkey on Thanksgiving, then that’s what he’d do. Still, Ian thought as he shifted his weight and twisted his neck, a bullet somehow seemed easier.
Maggie was halfway down the aisle, a vision in white lace, when another vision sitting in the center of the church on the end of a pew caught his eye.
Cara?
He’d dropped her off at Julianna’s house before coming to the church with Nick and Lucas. She’d been wearing faded jeans and a white, V-necked sweatshirt. Now…good Lord, now…He had to swallow the lump in his throat so he could breathe.
Staggering was the word that came to mind. The dress, a slim-fitting, spaghetti-strapped number in deep, smoky green was a perfect match for her eyes. She’d swept her hair up into a mass of loose, tousled curls, revealing her long, slender neck. She wore a pearl choker, and he had a sudden image of her naked, wearing only that damn choker.
As if she could read his thoughts, Cara suddenly glanced at him. He could see the color rise on her cheeks, but she kept her gaze steady with his. Even as Nick took Maggie’s hand and turned to the minister, Ian couldn’t look away from Cara.
When the minister said, “Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here…” Ian forced his attention back to the ceremony, listened as Nick and Maggie exchanged vows, smiled when Nick’s voice shook slightly.
When Nick and Maggie shared their first kiss as man and wife, the church broke into applause and whistles. Ian couldn’t help but grin at the happy couple.
And as he watched them walk back down the aisle, he did his best to ignore the odd sense of foreboding that tingled at the base of his neck.
The reception was in the formal ballroom of the Four Winds Hotel, Wolf River’s biggest and most elegant hotel, owned by none other than Lucas Blackhawk. White linens, tied with bows of tule and pink ribbon, draped the dozens of round tables, and the tall centerpieces were bursting with sprays of tiny white flowers and deep pink roses. Music drifted from the dance floor, a slow song dedicated to Nick and Maggie, and a deejay droned on about all lovers joining them on the dance floor.
Ian stayed close to the bar.
“That’s one mighty-fine-looking woman you got there, Shawnessy.” Lucas grabbed two bottles of beer from the bartender and handed one to Ian. “Mighty fine.”
Ian took a long, deep swig from the bottle, then leaned back against the bar and frowned as he watched Cara glide around the dance floor in the arms of Brett Rivers. From the way she’d danced every dance since the music had started, it seemed that every eligible man here tonight—and a few not-so-eligible—agreed with Lucas.
He hadn’t realized just how incredibly long her legs were until he’d seen her in that dress. How narrow her waist was—just the right size for a man’s hands. Or how graceful the curve of her shoulders and back. How sexy.
Ian’s hand tightened around his beer as Brett slid his hand lower on Cara’s slim, smooth back. When the man said something close to her ear, she laughed. Ian clenched his jaw.
Lucas took a swig of his beer. “That Brett’s a good dancer, don’t you think?”
Ian knew that Lucas was goading him, but he refused to rise to the bait. He’d never been the jealous type, and he had no reason to be now, he told himself. He and Cara weren’t involved. He just felt a certain…responsibility, that was all.
They were both leaving tomorrow, going their separate ways, and he couldn’t rest until she was safely on a plane to Philadelphia. Once she was back home, he was certain he’d have nothing to worry about. She’d be fine. Absolutely fine.
When Brett pulled her closer, Ian thought he heard the bottle crack in his hand.
“Smile!”
A light flashed in his face, blinding him for a moment. Julianna grinned at him over the top of a throw-away camera. In spite of himself, Ian did smile, even if it was a little late.
“Good thing you married this gorgeous woman, Blackhawk, or I’d find it my bachelor duty to hit on her.”
“Try it and you’re a dead man,” Lucas snarled goodnaturedly. “She’s all mine.”
Ian watched with amusement as Lucas pulled Julianna into his arms and gave her a kiss. They shared a look that had Ian tugging at his bow tie. There it was again, that strange prickling at the back of his neck. If he believed in them, he’d say it was a premonition of something coming.
But that was ridiculous.
“Cara looks wonderful in that dress, don’t you think so, Ian?” Julianna took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
“It’s nice,” he said blandly, watched with irritation as Kirk Jensen, another single male, cut in on Brett when the deejay switched to a disco song. He felt some satisfaction that Kirk wasn’t holding her close, but the way Cara moved her body was enough to make a man’s brain melt.
“Nice?” Julianna raised a brow at Ian, then looked at Lucas. “He thinks she looks nice?”
“He’s got it bad.” Lucas gave his wife a knowing nod. “Real bad.”
“Shut up, Blackhawk,” Ian snapped. “You don’t know sh—anything,” he finished politely for Julianna’s sake.
“Who’s got it bad?” Nick came up from behind, signaled the bartender for a beer, then grinned at Luca
s. “Oh, you must be talking about Ian.”
Ian glared at Nick. “Just because it’s your wedding, Santos, don’t think I won’t punch you out. Both of you.”
Nick and Ian looked at each other and grinned. “Real bad,” they both said at the same time.
That did it. Ian slammed his beer down, and since Lucas started it, reached for him first.
“Hey,” Julianna said sharply, “isn’t that Gerckee dancing with Cara? Nick, did you invite him?”
“We invited his parents,” Nick said with a sigh. “He just showed up with them.”
Gerckee? Ian’s head snapped up. Roger Gerckee? And he was dancing with Cara?
A muscle jumped in Ian’s jaw. Not in this lifetime, he thought, narrowing his eyes as he made his way to the dance floor.
“You must be new to Wolf River,” the blond man said to Cara as he pulled her into his arms. “I would have noticed a woman who looks like you.”
Cara wished that the dance had been fast instead of slow. This guy’s hands left her cold, just like his pickup line.
Until now, she’d enjoyed dancing, though the one man she’d wanted to ask her hadn’t come within a mile of her. And though her mind knew that was for the best, her heart didn’t much seem to care.
“My name’s Roger.” Roger cocked his head and gave her a half smile, a look he’d obviously spent a great deal of time perfecting in the mirror, Cara decided. “Roger Gerckee. I’m a lawyer with Milton, Mead and Burns.”
“How nice.” She gave him a polite smile. “Are you friends with the bride or groom?”
“Both, actually.” He spun her awkwardly, and Cara stumbled into him, another move he’d obviously practiced, she thought irritably. “We’re school chums, though Maggie was a couple of years younger. We all hung out together. How about you?” he asked, bringing his face close to hers. “You here with someone, or do I have you all to myself?”
“She’s with me, Gerckee. Hands off.”
Cara had been so focused on avoiding Roger’s sudden moves, and his hand that had dropped so close to her rear end, that she hadn’t seen Ian come up. His heated stare drilled into Roger, who immediately dropped his hands as if he’d been burned.
Killian's Passion Page 10
