The Seduction of Shamus O'Rourke j-4

by N. J. Walters

  Patrick's hand dropped onto Shamus’ shoulder. “Look. I don't want to fight with you. I'm just worried about you."

  "I'm not the one who needs your concern."

  "Damn it, Shamus.” He dropped his hand and began to pace. “The department has investigated, but there are no solid leads. We have the bullets and some more physical evidence, but unless we can find someone to link them too, they're useless. The woman has too many possible enemies in this town."

  "I know you've done what you can.” That much Shamus did trust. His brother was a good cop and, no matter his personal feelings, he would do everything in his power to solve this crime.

  Patrick halted and rubbed the back of his neck. “All I'm saying is be careful.” Shamus could see the concern in his brother's eyes. “I'm worried and so is Dani."

  "I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."

  Patrick nodded, but Shamus could see the muscles in his jaw clenching as if he were keeping himself from saying anything more. Finally, his brother heaved a sigh. “Shannon wanted me to ask you to come to supper."

  Shamus felt his stomach grumble. He'd barely eaten any lunch. “Tell her thanks, but I've already got plans."

  Patrick's lips thinned into a scowl, but he said nothing for a long moment. “I'm not going to ask, because then I can honestly tell her and Dani that I don't know what you're doing."

  "Dani?"

  "Yeah, she, Burke and Shane are coming over."

  "There is another alternative you know.” It was obvious, but Shamus knew his brother wouldn't go for it.

  He held up his hand, shaking his head. “You know what kind of atmosphere her presence would create, Shamus. It's asking too much."

  A vein in his temple began to throb as Shamus stared at his brother. “Fine.” He deliberately turned his back and resumed the task of packing away his tools.

  He could hear his brother swearing under his breath, but ignored him. “Breakfast. Meet me for breakfast at Jessie's tomorrow morning. We'll talk more then."

  Knowing his brother was trying, Shamus met him halfway. “Okay.” He closed his toolbox and hefted it off the floor. “How about seven?"

  "Seven works for me.” He hesitated. “I'm sorry, man."

  "Yeah.” The tension in his neck and shoulders was giving him a headache. All Shamus wanted to do was go home, have a nice, hot shower and then head over to Cyndi's place. “Me too.” Time, he told himself. His family just needed time to put the past in perspective, and get used to the idea of him and Cyndi together.

  In silence, the two men left the building. Shamus paused to lock the place behind him before storing his gear in his truck. Patrick climbed into his official vehicle and pulled away, waving and tooting his horn as he did. Suddenly very tired, Shamus climbed aboard his truck and drove home to shower and change.

  Cyndi was nervous and excited as she checked the oven one more time. Not knowing exactly when Shamus would arrive, she'd baked some chicken breasts that she'd found in the freezer. She'd tossed some potatoes in the oven and opened cans of carrots and corn. Everything was ready. A quick glance at the clock told her that it was six o'clock.

  With nothing else to do but wait, she wandered into the library. Like every other room in the place, it was dark and oppressive, but that would change. She could envision this being a cozy reading room, the shelves filled with paperback novels that folks might like to curl up with on a rainy day. She could also carry books on the area—flora, fauna, and history. People staying at a B & B always liked that sort of thing.

  Walking over to the shelf, she plucked a thick, leather volume off and opened it. It was a collection of Washington Irving's short stories. She'd bet good money that it was an original copy. Closing the cover, she stuck it back into its space on the shelf. The staff had been instructed to keep the drapes pulled tight so the sunlight couldn't harm the bindings.

  Cyndi had nothing against the books, but she hated what they represented. She'd been forbidden to touch any of them growing up. They, like everything else in the house, including her, had been strictly for show.

  Luckily for her, the auction house she'd contacted had given her the name of a reputable, rare-book dealer who was so excited she was coming the day after tomorrow. Amanda Barrington couldn't wait to get her hands on the library. Cyndi smiled as she recalled her conversation with the woman earlier today. Her enthusiasm had been contagious.

  The representative from the auction house, Linda Fletcher, was coming the same day. Cyndi had to stop and think for a moment. That would be Saturday. Today was Thursday. It was so easy for the days to slip by now that she was no longer working and bound to the clock and the calendar. Still, she had work to do. She'd have to clean two rooms, as both women would be staying overnight.

  She also had a heck of a lot of work to do tomorrow. She really needed to get up in the attic and see what was there before she made her final decision on furniture. She'd also been considering getting rid of most of the formal china and crystal. There was nothing wrong with it, per se, but again, it was the memories attached to it that she needed to purge from the house if she was going to live here.

  The roar of a truck pulling up outside the house had her heart leaping.

  Shamus.

  Hurrying from the room, she left her dark thoughts behind her, her earlier enthusiasm returning. She had so many thoughts and plans and wanted to share them with him.

  Pulling open the front door, she watched him climbed out of his truck. Just the sight of him made something inside her relax, as if everything was how it should be now that he'd arrived. She grabbed the edge of the doorframe to keep from running out to meet him. She bit her bottom lip, realizing she felt like a wife meeting her husband at the end of a long day.

  Stop that, she admonished herself. They were friends, nothing more. Okay, so maybe there was a bit more too it, but it wasn't serious. They were adults on the verge of having an affair. And she'd better stop thinking now. Each thought was more ridiculous than the last.

  Her cheeks heated as the memory of what happened at lunch flitted through her mind. She took a deep breath and slowly released it. She was almost forty years old, a mature woman who'd been married, for heaven's sake. She could handle this.

  Shamus reached back inside his truck and pulled something out before shutting the door. As he got closer, he tucked the bag under one arm and reached for her with the other. Leaning down, he kissed her, looping one arm around her waist and pulled her closer. He smelled of sandalwood soap and clean male, with a tinge of leather from the jacket he wore. Cyndi inhaled deeply, letting his scent seep into her.

  When he pulled away, he smiled down at her. “I needed that."

  Cyndi noticed immediately that he looked tired and the smile was missing from his eyes. “What's wrong?” she asked, ushering him into the house. Closing the door, she shut the world outside.

  "Nothing.” He laid the bag on the table just inside the foyer and shucked his leather jacket, hanging it on the coat rack.

  She could tell that something was bothering him, but maybe it was none of her business. She ignored the pang in the vicinity of her heart and tried to put on a cheerful face. They were adults on the verge of an affair, not a real couple or anything. “I hope you like chicken because that's what I made for supper.” She turned to head toward the kitchen, needing a moment to compose herself. “I better check on the vegetables."

  Shamus's large hand fell onto her shoulder, stopping her. Slowly, he tugged her into his arms, wrapping them around her from behind. “I didn't mean to shut you out.” She felt his lips against her hair. “It's just been a bitch of an afternoon."

  She covered his hands were they rested on her stomach. “It's okay. I understand.” She paused. “But if you need to talk..."

  "Thanks. Maybe later."

  Cyndi knew she'd have to be satisfied with that. For now. “Come and eat. You didn't get much lunch."

  "I had plenty for lunch,” he growled playfully in her ear be
fore releasing her, grabbing the bag and following her to the kitchen.

  She went to work immediately, pulling on the oven mitts, and removing the chicken from the oven. Shamus opened the bag and withdrew a container. “I brought dessert.” He held it out to her like an offering.

  Laying the hot dish aside, she tugged off the oven mitts and took the box. The label was from the Jamesville bakery, Delicious Delights. Intrigued, she peeled off the lid, almost moaning when she saw what was inside. “Cheesecake."

  "Not just any cheesecake,” he informed her, waggling his eyebrows at her. “Tunnel of fudge cheesecake."

  Two generous pieces of the cheesecake were nestled inside the box and when she looked closer, she could indeed see the rich, chocolaty filling wrapped within the vanilla layer. Going up on her toes, she kissed his cheek. “Thank you."

  His hands came around her to rest on her bottom, squeezing gently. “You're welcome.” He gave her behind a final pat before releasing her. “Food first."

  "Food. Right.” Flustered, she laid the decadent cheesecake aside and took up supper, filling their plates with baked chicken, potatoes, carrots, and corn. She'd made two individual garden salads earlier and pulled them out of the refrigerator.

  Instead of sitting at the counter, Cyndi had set the table in the cozy breakfast nook adjacent to the kitchen. A large, picture window framed the backyard and made an inviting place to eat. There was no way she'd eat in the formal dining room.

  Shamus picked up the two plates and carried them over to the table. She followed with the salads and then returned to get their drinks. She'd filled the coffee maker earlier and flicked it on as she passed so it could brew while they ate.

  Instead of sitting down and digging into his supper, Shamus was standing by the table, waiting for her. Pleasure filled her as he seated her first. “I hope you like it.” They'd shared lunch before, but this felt different, more intimate somehow.

  "It looks and smells great. Thanks for cooking for me.” Picking up his fork and knife, he cut a piece of the chicken and popped it into his mouth. As he chewed, he laid his utensils aside, and added dressing to his salad. Cutting his potato, he added a generous dollop of the sour cream she'd set out. She watched the strong column of his neck move as he swallowed. “You not eating?"

  Cyndi started and ducked her head, embarrassed to be caught staring at him. Grabbing the French dressing, she drizzled some over her salad and began to eat.

  The atmosphere relaxed as they ate in silence. They were about halfway through their meal when Shamus finally spoke. “So, what did you do this afternoon? Make any more plans?"

  She glanced up, wondering if he was humoring her, but saw only genuine interest. “I called the auction house, and they're sending someone out on Saturday to look at the furniture. I also contacted a rare book dealer to help clear out the library. It'll probably take a couple of days for them to go through everything, so both of them will be staying overnight."

  Shamus scooped up a forkful of potato, chewed and swallowed before commenting. “You sure you want to do that? Some of this stuff has been in your family for forever."

  "Yes.” She nodded emphatically. “I'm sure. I won't get rid of everything, but probably about seventy-five percent of what's here. I know there is a ton of stuff in the attic too. I need to get up there tomorrow and have a look."

  "I can take off the afternoon tomorrow and help you.” He picked up his glass and drank down half of the iced tea in one gulp.

  Cyndi laid her fork aside. “I can't let you do that. That's too much trouble.” Part of her would love to have the company while digging through the past, but she didn't want to interfere with his work.

  "It's no trouble.” He plunked the glass back on the table, reached across and took her hand. “I want to."

  "But what about your work?"

  Shamus laughed. “I work ten hours or more a day, Cyndi, and rarely take time off. I haven't had a vacation in over two years. If I want to take an afternoon off, no one can complain. Besides, what good is it being the boss if you can't take a half day off when you want to?"

  She really didn't want to say it, but felt she had to ask. “What about Burke? What will he say?"

  Shamus's smile disappeared. “It's none of his damn business what I do on my personal time."

  "But he's your partner.” She chewed on her bottom lip as worry threatened to consume her.

  "Exactly. He's my partner, not my father, or my keeper.” He squeezed her fingers. “Stop worrying, Cyndi. I'm not doing anything I don't want to."

  "I just don't want to cause any problems, and I know that your being here with me is causing them.” A telltale flicker in his eye alerted her and her stomach clenched. “What happened this afternoon?"

  Shamus dropped her hand, sat back, and rubbed his hands over his face. Again, she was reminded of how tired he'd looked when he first arrived. “It was nothing."

  Cyndi got up abruptly from the table. “If it's nothing, then you shouldn't mind telling me.” Grabbing her plate, she stalked to the counter.

  "Cyndi,” he began.

  "No.” She cut him off as she stalked back to the table and began to clear the remains of their meal. “I'm causing problems for you.” She stomped back to the counter and dumped the dishes onto it. The anger seeped out of her as quickly as it had arrived. Grabbing the edge of the counter for support, she spoke the words that she knew needed to be said. “You need to leave."

  The legs of his chair scraped back, but instead of leaving, she heard his footsteps getting closer to her. She gripped the edge of the marble to keep from turning toward him.

  "Cyndi."

  She shook her head.

  His sigh ruffled her hair as he leaned down, placing his hands on either side of hers, boxing her in. “Patrick came to apologize for his behavior the other night."

  "I don't understand.” She wanted to face Shamus, but resisted. If she saw him, her resolve would probably crumble.

  "He wasn't as concerned about you as he should have been and he knows it."

  Now she was totally confused. “I still don't understand. He came and investigated. Without a suspect, I know there's not much he can do."

  "I'm not talking about that. I know he did his job.” Shamus brushed his lips over the back of her neck. “But his first concern should have been getting you to a hospital, not taking your statement."

  "But I wasn't seriously hurt.” The bandage was gone from her hand and the scar was beginning to fade. All her other cuts had been superficial and were already healed.

  "Doesn't matter.” Before she could protest or question him further, he continued. “Anyway, then he asked me to supper. I told him I had plans. He warned me away from you again, and I told him to mind his own business."

  Cyndi's stomach lurched. She'd known this was going to happen. She'd warned him repeatedly that his family wouldn't approve. “I knew our being together would cause problems. We need to stop seeing each other, Shamus."

  "No,” he whispered as he nibbled on the sensitive shell of her ear. “I want to be with you, Cyndi. You're a very special lady."

  She'd waited her whole life for someone to make her feel the way Shamus did, but she knew being with her was going to ruin his life. Releasing her death grip on the counter, she turned. Shamus didn't give an inch, so she was practically plastered against him. She had to tilt her head back to see his face. “You have to leave and not come back."

  "Tell me that you don't want me."

  Cyndi swallowed hard and looked down at his chest. “I don't want you.” It was a wonder she didn't choke on the lie.

  His finger hooked under her chin and he tipped it up until she was looking at him. “Now tell me."

  She opened her mouth to do just that, but the words wouldn't come out. His rough-hewn face was serious, his blue-gray eyes sad. “I...I can't.” She felt defeated. She couldn't even lie to him to protect him. Not when he looked so sad.

  He lowered his forehead until it w
as touching hers. “I'm glad."

  "Shamus,” she began.

  "No.” He placed a finger over her lips. “Give my family some time. They're good people. They'll come around. But tonight the rest of the world doesn't exist. Tonight there's only us."

  He lowered his finger and replaced it with his lips. Cyndi sighed, knowing she should protest, but knowing she wouldn't. She wanted Shamus in a way she'd never wanted any other man. He made her feel special and important. He didn't care about her money or her family's power in the community. He was one of the few people in town who wanted to know the real her, who did know the real her.

  Their lips parted and he reached across the counter and turned off the coffee pot. “We'll finish our meal later, but first I want dessert.” He placed one arm behind her back and the other under her knees and scooped her into his arms.

  Cyndi looped her arms around his neck, burying her face against his chest. He walked steadily through the hallway and up the stairs. She could hear his heart beating heavily against her cheek. Her entire body was alive with anticipation of what was to come. This time there would be no stopping.

  His boots were heavy as he started down the upstairs hallway. He turned left and paused too soon. She raised her head. “No, don't.” But before she finished uttering the words, he'd managed to grab the knob and open the door.

  "What the hell?” Cyndi tried to squirm out of his arms, but he tightened them around her. “What is this room?"

  Sighing, Cyndi gave up trying to make him release her, but she didn't look into the room. She wasn't ready. Not yet. “This was my room."

  "Why does it look as if a tornado went off inside?"

  She plucked at one of the buttons of his blue shirt, knowing she'd have to answer. In the short time she'd known Shamus, she'd learned he was stubborn and determined, plus he had patience in spades. The man would stand here all night if that was what it took to get answers.

  "This is how I left it when I fled Jamesville fourteen years ago. Apparently, my father simply closed the door and never opened it again. I found it this way when I returned."