by Helen Lacey
“Would you like me to do that?” he asked. “You look like you’re having trouble.”
Fiona pushed the key in the lock. “No, it’s fine. Well, good night. Thank you for dinner.”
He watched her with burning intensity. “I’ll drop Cecily off tomorrow so you can spend the day together.”
“Okay. I appreciate your—”
“Good night, Fiona,” he said and dipped his head to kiss her cheek.
She shouldn’t have sucked in a sharp breath. She shouldn’t have felt as though her knees were going to give way. It’s just a kiss on the cheek, for heaven’s sake. But she did. And worse, a sound, half moan, half groan, rattled low in her throat. She knew he heard it because he smiled against her skin.
When he pulled back, he was still smiling. Like he knows I want him.
“Good night, Wyatt.”
He headed down the three steps and took a few strides. Before Fiona had a chance to push the front door on its hinges, he turned. “Hey,” he said quietly to get her attention.
Fiona drew in a breath. “Yes?”
He gave her such a sexy smile and she was quickly intoxicated. “You know, you look really good in a dress.”
As he drove off, Fiona slumped against the door.
I will not like him.
Too late.
Chapter Five
“Tell me about the kid.”
Fiona turned from her spot in Evie’s kitchen. It was day three. The past forty-eight hours had been wonderful. Even better, she hadn’t been in a position to spend any time alone with Wyatt. There had been no more questions, no more inquisitions. Cecily had asked about her father and for the moment had accepted Fiona’s brief acknowledgment of the young man who’d been a rodeo cowboy and had been killed in an accident. She didn’t mention the part about him being her mother’s much younger lover. Or how he’d forced sex without her consent. There was an ugly word for what happened, but Fiona didn’t like how it sounded on the edge of her tongue. Cecily didn’t need to know the violent details of her conception.
Fiona had arrived at Evie’s bed-and-breakfast at eleven o’clock and found Cecily and Evie’s son Trevor shooting hoops near the studio at the side of the house. Evie was in the main part of the house with her other guests, and Fiona had taken over making sandwiches in the kitchen.
And now Wyatt stood framed in the doorway, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, glaring at her.
“The kid?” She raised her brows, took her hands off the kettle and tried not to think about how her knees turned weak. She grabbed a tea towel and covered the plate of wrap-style sandwiches she’d made. “Trevor? He’s Evie’s son.”
He nodded. “He’s been monopolizing Cecily all morning. You know, I didn’t bring her here so she could get mixed up with some—”
“Relax,” Fiona insisted when she realized where the conversation was heading and that Wyatt looked ready to punch someone in the nose. “Trevor’s a nice boy. Sensible and trustworthy.”
“Like all teenage boys, right?”
She stiffened and gripped the countertop. “Like he’s been raised to be by his mother, who is my friend.” Fiona grabbed a mug and poured coffee into it. “Here, drink this and calm down.”
“I don’t want to calm down,” he said as he strode into the room. “I want to know that my niece is—”
“She’s perfectly fine,” Fiona said, taking no interest in his scowl or the fact he clearly didn’t like being interrupted or pacified with caffeine. “She’s shooting hoops, not smoking a crack pipe. And she’s having fun with someone her own age.”
“It’s the kind of fun that concerns me.”
Fiona suppressed a smile. “What, they don’t have teenage boys where you’re from?”
He didn’t like sarcasm, either. “You’re not helping.”
“What exactly do you think she’s going to get up to?” she asked and pointed to the coffee again. “She’s a sensible girl. She won’t do anything foolish.”
“Even sensible girls can get into trouble.”
She didn’t miss the meaning of his words. So there it was, out between them. And to his credit, Wyatt immediately looked as though he wished he hadn’t said it. But out was out. And Fiona had no intention of pretending otherwise.
Besides, being annoyed with him helped her stop imagining him naked. Which she’d done with alarming regularity over the past few days.
“She’s not me. And I’ve never claimed to be sensible.”
“I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t,” she insisted. It didn’t matter what he thought. She wouldn’t let it. One silly kiss on the cheek didn’t make them...anything. “I’d expect you to have an opinion. You’ve read the file. You know everything, right? The hopeless mother, the father who didn’t want me, the countless schools. I wasn’t exactly the poster child for a normal life.” Fiona crossed her arms and drew air deep into her lungs. “But when I look at Cecily, when I see what an incredible girl she has become, I could never regret any of it. If I did that would be like saying I wished she’d never been born...and imagining a world without Cecily in it would be impossible to bear.”
* * *
As speeches went, this was right up there. Right up there with making him feel like a complete jerk. Wyatt huffed out a breath and sat down. “I apologize. I’m not usually so clumsy.”
She actually laughed. “I’d bet you’ve never had a clumsy moment in your life.”
Except around you. He didn’t say it. And didn’t want to start thinking about why she affected him as she did. “I’m not about to start judging you, Fiona. If I’m acting like an overprotective parent, it’s because I have no idea what I’m doing.”
She came around the bench and settled her hips against the counter.
Wyatt tried to not think about how good her legs looked stretched out from the short skirt she wore. He had a hell of a time thinking about anything else when she was so close.
One brow came up. “You were surprised they granted you guardianship?”
“Yes,” he replied and wondered how she seemed to know what he was thinking. “My sister three years younger is married with her own children so I assumed Karen would believe that Ellen and Alessio would have been the better option.”
“I think they made the right choice,” she said quietly. “Cecily thinks you’ve hung the moon, so you’re off to a good start.”
“I don’t want to screw it up for her sake. She’s been through enough.”
“You won’t,” she assured him. “It’s been eighteen months since her parents passed away and she’s happy and healthy.”
Wyatt bit back a laugh. “I’m not sure if that has anything to do with me.”
“You’d be surprised. In my experience, as a teacher,” she qualified, “I see children from different backgrounds and situations, single parents, foster parents, grandparents, two-parent families, and they’re all doing the best they can. The thing is, Wyatt, no one gets it right every time.”
He knew she was right, and her words offered the kind of comfort he’d somehow forgotten existed. “Do you mean like thinking every teenage boy who so much as looks at her is after something?” Spoken out loud, it sounded ridiculously paranoid.
She nodded. “Exactly. I wouldn’t encourage her to be friends with Trevor if I thought he couldn’t be trusted. You didn’t expect Cecily to spend every minute of her holiday with either of us, did you?”
“I’m not sure what I expected,” he said candidly, suddenly wanting to kiss her so much his whole body was on high alert. “I didn’t expect...”
She stilled. “What?”
“I didn’t expect I’d be this...” Wyatt stopped, pausing to consider if admitting anything was wise at this point—when they both knew it couldn’t go anywhere.
But for the past few days, he’d been going quietly out of his mind thinking about her. “I didn’t expect I’d be this attracted to you.”
* * *
Fiona sucked in a breath. Okay...what now? “Me, either.”
Not the most sensible response. Not even close.
“Inconvenient, then?”
She nodded. “Very.”
“Is avoiding me helping any?”
Fiona rubbed her hands down her thighs and didn’t miss the way his eyes followed her every move. “Not so far.”
Something hot and seductive swept into the room. It toyed with them for a moment, tracing the edges of the building awareness, and she experienced a surge of longing so deep, so intense, her knees threatened to give way.
“Fiona...”
How he came to be in front of her she wasn’t sure. She vaguely heard the chair being scraped back. There were no other sounds. Only her heart beating madly. Only some faraway voice telling her to stop whatever was about to happen.
“Wyatt...we can’t... It’s not...”
“I know we can’t,” he said softly.
Fiona said his name again. Anything more wouldn’t come. When his arms moved to either side of her, trapping her against the counter, it merely intensified the desire scorching her skin, her blood and her very bones. She tilted her head back to look at him and recognized the raw hunger in his blue eyes.
She drew in a soft breath, waiting, feeling the heat between them rise like a coiled serpent. Her lips parted, anticipating his kiss. And wanting it. When he touched his mouth to hers, every ounce of lingering resistance disappeared. There was nothing else. Only feeling. Only his kiss. Only Wyatt.
She reached up and laid her hands on his shoulders. He was solid, strong, just as she’d expected. She’d been kissed before, had experienced desire before. But never like this. He leaned into her and continued to kiss her mouth, slanting his lips over hers with gentle provocation.
Whoosh...
She’d heard about it, read about it, secretly dreamed of one day finding someone who would make her feel so alive.
It’s only lust.
Powerful, heady and electrifying. Exactly what it should be. But the warning voice in her head prevailed.
It’s only sex.
And sex wasn’t enough to sustain anything other than a brief, forgettable relationship. She knew that. But as his tongue gently wound around hers, for one crazy moment it felt enough. The fact he wasn’t touching her in any way other than the kiss was incredibly erotic to her senses. Nothing rushed. No quick hands. No hasty gratification. No demands. This was slow and seductive and captivating, and he coaxed a response she gave willingly.
When the kiss was over and he lifted his head, Fiona kept her hands where they were. She looked up, met his gaze and knew her lips quivered, knew he’d see every scrap of desire brimming in her eyes.
“Not a good idea?”
She swallowed hard. “No.”
He pulled back and straightened. “You’re right. It won’t happen again.”
It seemed like a monumental promise. Too big. Too much. Something neither could hold to. He wanted her. She wanted him. But it wasn’t enough. Cecily was too important. “You’re right...it won’t.”
“I should back off.”
“Yes, you should.”
He stepped aside and put space between them. Luckily, because just then Cecily and Trevor bounced through the back door, laughing loudly as they bundled into the room.
The kiss was forgotten, and Fiona caught Wyatt’s sudden disapproving look when he saw Trevor and she frowned at him. He got the message and immediately switched to a smile so fake she almost laughed out loud. When the kids said they wanted to go to the beach, his pasted-on smile looked frozen onto his handsome face.
“Lily’s going to be there,” Cecily announced.
Lily was Callie’s stepdaughter and Trevor’s cousin. Fiona had introduced them the day before, and the girls, almost the same age, had hit it off immediately. The fact it was winter didn’t seem to put the kids off going swimming. The weather was mild and she knew the water would be bearable. “As long as your uncle says it’s okay.”
He didn’t waste any time saying, “We’ll go with you.”
Fiona didn’t miss the inclusive we, and Cecily’s startled expression stood out like a beacon. “You hate the beach.”
“We’ll all go,” he said, firmer this time, and Cecily clearly knew not to argue the point. Once the kids left to change into their swimsuits, Fiona turned to Wyatt. “Don’t like the beach, huh?”
“In the middle of winter? Not particularly.”
Fiona grinned. “City boy,” she teased. “So why are we going?”
“I like teenage boys even less.”
Fiona sighed heavily. The man was as stubborn as they came. “Trevor’s a good kid. Didn’t we already go over this stuff?”
He shrugged. “Humor me anyway.”
“Doesn’t look like I have a choice.” She moved around the bench and flicked the kettle switch. “I just have to get brunch into the front dining room for the guests and then I’m all yours.”
Probably not the best way to put it. The words smacked of innuendo. Wyatt raised a brow and got rid of the fake smile. “Can I help?”
“Are you good in the kitchen?”
He smiled in a sexy way. “I know my way around.”
She didn’t doubt it. If he was good in the kitchen, she didn’t dare imagine his skill in the bedroom. “I’ve got it,” she said and grabbed the sandwiches. “I’ll meet you outside in fifteen minutes.”
He nodded and left the room.
Fiona’s fifteen minutes turned into twenty-five. By the time she headed outside, Wyatt was pacing the front driveway.
“Sorry,” she said breathlessly. “Just had to let Evie know we’re heading off.” She looked around. “Where are the kids?”
“Five minutes ahead of us.”
He let them go unsupervised? “I’m impressed.”
“I’m trusting your judgment.”
“Smartest move you’ve made today.” She took a few steps and then turned back to face him. “Well, let’s go. Don’t want that five to turn into ten.”
She crossed the road and headed across the grassy stretch toward the pathway that led to the beach.
Wyatt caught up with her in mere seconds. “It’s what, a ten-minute walk?”
“About that,” she replied as he came beside her. “This path leads down toward the patrolled beach in front of the tourist park. You remember the beach, don’t you? You followed me down there once.”
“That first day—I remember.”
She grinned and forgot that she should be jumping out of her skin to avoid enjoying his company. “Stalker.”
Wyatt laughed and the sound vibrated through her. He was so easy to be with. Easy to like. The sound of waves crashing along the shoreline and the scent of wild jasmine in the air created a relaxed mood between them. That kiss would usually have put her on high alert. Strange that it didn’t. Strange that all she wanted to do was keep talking with him. And kiss him again. And kiss only him for the rest of my life.
“Why aren’t you married?”
His question quickly shoved her back into the moment. “I told you already.”
“Because you’re always the best friend. Yeah, right. What’s the real reason?”
She shrugged. What could she say? Men weren’t exactly lining up for her. The ones that had always found her lacking in some way. Of course, Fiona knew why. She had too many secrets. Too much baggage. Things she couldn’t tell.
“I’ve never been in love,” she said and felt the truth of her own words through to her bones. “So what about you?” she asked, determined to shake him off t
he subject of her loveless love life. “How come your engagement didn’t work out?”
He didn’t falter a step, although Fiona sensed his reticence. “We were incompatible.”
“That’s a good shot at avoiding the question without giving a real answer.”
He flicked sunglasses on. “I worked long hours. She didn’t like it.”
“Being committed to your job isn’t exactly a deal breaker. What’s the real reason?”
* * *
The woman was relentless, Wyatt thought and tried to not think about how much he longed to take her hand in his. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d wanted to do that. Maybe never. He felt ridiculous even thinking it. Stupid and foolish, he knew it was inappropriate. But as he walked with her beneath the late-morning sun and remembered how sweetly she’d kissed him, Wyatt experienced an odd tightening in his chest. Because it felt as if they were...what?
Courting.
He almost laughed out loud.
People didn’t do that anymore. He didn’t do that ever. Sappy, romantic notions had never been his thing. He was practical and pragmatic. He worked hard, played fair and believed a man was measured by his integrity and how he treated others. Pretty girls with nice smiles didn’t turn his head and make him forget he had a job to do. Reuniting Cecily successfully with her birth mother was his job, and he’d promised his niece he’d do everything he could to ensure it worked out. Karen and Jim were gone and he’d played his part in that. He’d suggested they take a break and work on their marriage. Little did he know that advice would send them to their deaths. He owed Cecily a chance to have a mother again, and he wasn’t about to screw it up for her.
“Wyatt?”
He glanced at Fiona and the truth tumbled out. “She slept with someone else.”
The pathway rounded a corner, and she stopped at a narrow bridge crossing just before the tourist park. “I’m sorry.”
