Mending Fences

by Lucy Francis

  Victoria noted the glow in Curran’s eyes and wondered. In the last month, she had gotten no closer to knowing why he ended his highly public lifestyle. She didn’t know quite how to work the conversation around to it, and he didn’t volunteer anything.

  No matter his reasons, he had obviously missed it. It showed on his face, in his delight at seeing the Grant sisters. She heard the joy threaded through the rumble in his voice.

  Tonight, he’d taken himself back into his element. Curran Shaw had returned home, and claimed her as his own.

  Her insecurities ate at her self-confidence. The things she’d been told so many times and thought she’d pushed out of her system rose in her mind. She wasn’t pretty enough, smart enough, warm enough… anything enough.

  Not for a man like Curran. He was simply toying with her. How long could she possibly expect it to last? Especially when she wasn’t sleeping with him.

  Then he took her hand and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. His smile, the warmth and sparkle in his eyes when he looked at her helped her chase away those old, hurtful words.

  If she were truly that worthless, she wouldn’t be here, now would she?

  He leaned close and kissed her, his lips firm yet tender slanting against hers.

  Here and now. It was all she could ask for. It was all she could handle.

  It was enough.

  Chapter Five

  “I forgot to tell you, Mrs. Campbell called this morning.” Victoria dropped onto the couch in her great room after her first real night out with Curran. She pulled her knees up, giving him room to join her on the couch.

  “Confirming their plans to return next month?”

  “No, telling me they’re joining friends on a trip across Asia. Looks like I’m staying here until the middle of April.” And staying close to you. The comfort of knowing where she would live for the next two months bubbled into a froth with the anticipation shivering in her belly. They’d barely returned from the movie, and though he’d been a perfect gentleman all evening, a palpable tension filled the space between them.

  Curran set down a bottle of lotion he’d retrieved from the bathroom and closed his fingers around her left ankle. She raised an eyebrow at him. “What are you doing?”

  “Trust me.” He loosened the laces on her boot, slid it off, dropped it on the floor. He tugged her sock off.

  She leaned back against the arm of the couch, unable to suppress a moan of delight as his strong hands slathered lotion onto her foot.

  She knew what was coming. Every time she looked at him, the predatory darkness in his eyes singed her skin. He’d taken his time getting to it, but his intention was obvious. After a month of dating, he intended to change her status from merely girlfriend to lover.

  She sucked in a sharp breath when he worked her arch with his knuckles.

  “Does that hurt?”

  “Ohhh, but it’s a good hurt. Keep going, please.” She watched him as his hands traveled over her skin, her insides tingling in lazy circles, matching the path his hands massaged around her foot.

  He was clearly trying to seduce her, and damn, it was working. Her thoughts fast-forwarded past the obvious enjoyment of making love with him to the very distinct possibility of ending up alone again afterward. That dash of reality helped her focus outside the sensual stirrings in her belly.

  Curran continued the massage beyond her ankles, sliding her trouser leg up to work her calf. “Does that mean you’re canceling your apartment-hunting plans for the weekend?”

  “Yes. Does it bother you that I don’t keep my own place?”

  He reached for her other foot, discarding the second boot and sock, then filled his palm with lotion. “No, not at all. Why pay rent if you aren’t living there? Though I suggest you don’t tell your employers about some of the things that may go on between us in this house in the next few weeks.”

  He gave her a look that sent flames of desire licking over her skin then returned his attention to the foot rub. She sighed, part contentment, part resignation. She couldn’t give him what he wanted. What she wanted.

  She had to get her mind on something else. “Question.”

  “What?”

  “Why haven’t you ever gone back to Australia?”

  “I told you, not everyone wants to go home again.” He worked her arch, pulling a gasp from her.

  “Don’t you ever miss your mother?”

  Through half-closed eyes, she caught the way his jaw clenched. It was the only outward indication she’d hit a nerve.

  “I was hard on my mum. We talk on the phone occasionally. She’s even learned how to send email in the last couple of years.”

  She frowned. “I’m surprised she hasn’t flown over to see you, at least.”

  He paused, his jaw ticking, then rubbed his knuckles against the ball of her foot. “Mum doesn’t fly. She’s deathly afraid of aircraft. Doesn’t do boats, either, so if she can’t walk, drive, or take the train, she doesn’t go.”

  “Oh.” Heavens, getting information out of him was like herding cats sometimes.

  When he was in the public eye, Curran managed to keep his family private. Even with all her research, all she found at the time she wrote the article was that he had a sister, his mother lived in Australia, and his father died when Curran was twenty-five, leaving him DCS GlobalTech. Her curiosity piqued, she gently nudged for more satisfying answers. “You don’t speak of your family much, besides Kelli.”

  He blew out a breath, then glanced sideways at her. “What do you want to know?”

  “Anything you’re willing to tell me. If you don’t want to talk about it, don’t.”

  Curran lifted her feet, slid closer to her, then lowered her legs over his. “All right. Mum and David Shaw were never married. He met her on holiday in Gold Coast—do you know Australia?”

  “Uh, sort of.”

  He nodded and drew a map in the air. “It’s on the east coast in Queensland, just south of Brisbane, right? So, they met, spent three solid months together, then he went back to the States, and she was blessed with me.”

  Victoria shivered. The single-mom subject hit a little too close to home. “Did he know?”

  “She didn’t tell him until I was three or four years old. She wanted to see if he’d come back for her without knowing he had an obligation. He never came. She finally told him, hoping he’d help provide for me.”

  “And did he?” Nate wouldn’t have.

  “Yeah. He was neck-deep in building his business, so it wasn’t like he could pick up and move halfway around the world. He wanted us to come to him, but she refused to leave her family, her country, deal with that fear of flying. So, he sent funds, and she raised me with the help of my grandmother.”

  Victoria trailed her fingers along his arm, enjoying the feel of corded muscle under his soft sweater. “Where does Kelli come into the picture?”

  “Mum married Jack, Kelli’s dad, when I was nine. He’s a decent type, but he wasn’t my father. I wouldn’t let him be. By the time I was a teenager, I had raised enough hell to get kicked out of the house.”

  “Where did you go?”

  He leveled a look at her. “You know, this is not what I had in mind tonight, talking about my childhood.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

  Curran feathered his fingers into her hair, stroked his thumb down her cheek. “You didn’t, but it’s a conversation for another time.”

  Her heart tripped hard as he shifted her onto his lap and kissed her. The room faded away until nothing existed beyond the feel of him, the faint musky hint of aftershave on his skin, the heat of his mouth. Victoria lost herself in the pounding of his heart beneath her hand, the security of his arms, the fiery trail of kisses he imprinted on her jaw, her throat.

  He slipped an arm beneath her knees and lifted her, laying her down on the couch and stretching himself out full length beside her. He kissed her, his tongue flirting with hers, dipping into her mouth until her head sp
un. She gasped when he turned his attention to the hollow at the base of her throat. Nothing else in the world mattered. Nothing but his tongue tasting her skin, his teeth nipping at her collarbone.

  A hot throbbing grew between her thighs, achy and demanding. She became more aware of her own skin when he ran a hand down her side, barely touching the curve of her breast, following the path of her waist, along her hip. Down her leg until he tucked his fingers behind her knee, bringing her leg up and over his side as he shifted, resting his own leg between hers. It was so quick, so fluid, it left her no time to think. The throbbing intensified, pulsing against the weight of his thigh. It had been so long, and she didn’t recall the prelude ever being this good. It was all she could do to resist the urge to rock her hips and rub herself against him.

  She drew a ragged breath, wove her fingers into his thick hair and pulled his mouth back to hers. She tasted him, kissed him deeply. He eased back, his smoldering gaze locked onto hers as he reached his hand under the edge of her sweater, sliding the fine wool up to her breasts.

  A pinprick of cold opened inside her, snapping her out of the heat-induced haze. Think, Victoria, think! Her mind returned to the day she signed the adoption papers. That was all it took. The chill grew, washing over the throbbing, leaving only wisps of smoke curling in her stomach.

  Confusion flickered through his eyes. She hadn’t expected him to detect the change, but it saved her from having to work so hard to say no.

  She sighed and pressed a hand to his chest. He shifted, allowing her to sit up, then moved to sit behind her. His hand smoothed her hair, likely a wild mass by now. Oh, she wanted him so much. He was a gentle, wonderful man. He was also accustomed to getting whatever he wanted, so how could she expect him to abide by the boundaries she had to maintain? She knew he wouldn’t hurt her, but he wouldn’t stick around either.

  Even in her wildest dreams, she knew he wouldn’t want someone quite this messed up.

  “Curran, this is going to sound like a line, but I need you to know that it’s not you. It’s totally me.”

  He leaned against her back, ran his hands down her arms, pressed his lips to her nape, breathing against her skin and sending a shiver through her. “I want to make love with you.” The rumble in his quiet voice seemed more intense, infused with fire.

  He wanted her. The ice crystallizing inside her hurt, but it couldn’t be any other way. She stood up, took a step, but his fingers closed around her wrist.

  “Don’t walk away from me, Victoria.”

  She froze.

  “Don’t walk away from me, Victoria.” Nate’s fist slammed into her ribs—

  She shook her head, forcing the memory back to the depths it came from, but she was unable to lose the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, the panic chilling her. She couldn’t look at Curran. She felt him behind her, his hands grasping her shoulders.

  “Victoria.” His voice, low and quiet, still held a slight edge from the passion ebbing slowly away. He turned her to face him. “You’re dead white.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to control the shaking. “I, uh, I don’t feel very well, Curran. You should go.”

  “Actually, I think I should stay.” He ran his fingers along her jaw, nudging her chin up, urging her to look at him. “What happened?”

  She forced herself to meet his gaze. She found warmth in his eyes, his brow knitted with concern. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  He shook his head. “Wrong answer. You’re not a very good liar, Victoria. I frightened you, and I want to know why.”

  “You didn’t frighten me.”

  “Oh, really? One minute we’re loving up just fine, the next minute, you ice over in mid-step—” His eyes brightened with recognition, his jaw tensed. “I’ve seen that happen before. When we talked about Kelli’s past that first day, I saw a lesser version of this reaction.”

  She stepped away from him, unable to hold herself together under his gentle scrutiny. “I should have warned you I’m kind of temperamental.”

  She didn’t get far before she felt him behind her. “No, I don’t think you are.” His voice was low, soft. Dangerous. “I do think you have the occasional flashback from someone beating the hell out of you.”

  If she’d ever doubted Curran’s reputation for zeroing in on the source of problems, she doubted no longer. He didn’t touch her, but her skin tingled with the warmth of him standing close.

  “I’m sorry I’ve ruined the evening.” She could barely hear her own voice, and wondered briefly if he heard her. She felt so small inside, so cornered. She hated the fear Nate had instilled in her so long ago. Fear she might never completely rid herself of.

  Curran’s hands settled on her waist, he nuzzled the spot just below her ear. “I don’t want an apology, honey. Just tell me his name.”

  A shock jolted her heart, and she caught her breath as she turned to look at him. She recognized the expression in his green eyes. Anger. Protection.

  “Nathaniel Louis Fielder, Jr.”

  “Where is he?”

  Her heart lurched again at the tightness in his voice. He was ready to tear Nate apart. “Serving time in California, thank God.”

  His eyes closed for a moment and he blew out a deep breath. When he looked at her again, the anger had cooled slightly. He led her back to the couch, sat with her. “Tell me about it.”

  “Curran, I haven’t talked about it in a very long time.”

  Flickers of warmth skittered across the ice inside her as his fingers laced through hers. “Sometimes it helps to talk it out of your system.”

  She’d talked to counselors until her throat dried. It had helped as much as it was ever going to. The remainder, well, that she just had to learn to live with. To get past. “It only helps so much. Besides, I’m sure you don’t really want the gory details.”

  “It doesn’t help that I’m still practically a stranger, right?” He said it as a matter of fact, without emotion.

  “It isn’t that. I know you.”

  He smiled then, a little. “But it’s still new. That will change, given time.”

  Fluttering filled her insides. “I thought I totally ruined this.”

  “No, not at all. Promise me something, though.” He caressed her hair, bracketed her face in his hands. “Don’t push me away when I trigger a memory. Tell me. Work through it with me. Otherwise, he wins.”

  She nodded. He gently nudged the tip of her nose with his, then tilted his head and kissed her softly, carefully. When he pulled back, he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers.

  “I think the mood I was cultivating earlier is beyond hope of resurrection tonight.”

  She drew a fingertip along his jaw. “That’s hardly fair to you.”

  Curran laughed softly. “It is what it is.” He glanced at his watch. “And right now, it’s late. You all right?”

  “Yes. I still feel a little out of balance, but sleep is usually a good cure for that.”

  “I’ll check on you tomorrow, after I take Robby skiing.” He kissed her cheek, then retrieved his coat. She walked with him to the door, opened it for him, warmed by the brush of his lips across hers.

  She stood in the doorway, shivering as the truck engine roared to life, watching until the headlights disappeared up the lane. She sighed and pushed the door closed, leaning her forehead against it. This was hardly the first time she’d been thrown to the past by something someone said. A phrase on a TV show even did it once. Usually, she just shook the memories off and went back to what she was doing. Having such a sharp memory surface while she was with Curran messed with her mind.

  He really was wonderful. He made her laugh, he was intelligent, he could converse about anything. He even opened doors for her in a way that made her feel precious. And there was the physical side of things. She’d found a few men attractive in her life, but Curran ignited a heat she’d only felt flashes of before.

  Being afraid of him was stupid. The way he treat
ed his sister and nephew told her that much. He’d probably break her heart, but he would never physically hurt her.

  Fortified by that knowledge, Victoria settled into bed in the guest room. The more she thought about Curran, the more she wished he was there beside her, holding her.

  Then came the thought that snapped her wide awake and filled her with regret.

  If it had been Curran, instead of Nate, she wouldn’t have given up the baby.

  She pressed her face into her pillow and sobbed.

  Curran couldn’t sleep. After reading the same paragraph in his book four times, he knew he couldn’t read, either. By three-twenty, he gave up trying. He yanked on a pair of jeans, a thick sweatshirt, boots, a wool hat, and his sheepskin coat, then left the house.

  God must have a wicked sense of humor to make it this damn cold. His ears and cheeks burned with cold and his fingertips were freezing inside his gloves before he reached the barn.

  He slipped inside, felt along the wall for the light switch, then stopped himself. No sense in waking all the animals. He grabbed a torch from the tack room, clicked it on, then went to Peg-leg’s huge box and shone the beam on the bison. The animal stood with his eyes closed, dozing.

  “Peg, how’s those legs, mate?” He pitched his voice low, but a couple of the horses heard him and whickered. He walked slowly past the other stalls, rubbing velvet horse noses where the curious leaned out to see why he was there. Finally, he returned to the bison’s box and unlatched the door.

  Peg snorted and stepped back to give him room by the door. He patted Peg’s huge head and knelt, checking the scabbed wounds and new, pink skin for signs of oozing or infection. Nothing. The beast seemed to be healing just fine.

  He stood and leaned against Peg-leg’s massive side. “She’s going to be the death of me, Peggy. She took me from rock hard to desperate to defend her in about two minutes flat. What in the hell am I supposed to do with a woman like that?”

  Curran closed his eyes, propped up by the bison. His focus was usually so clear with women. With Victoria, it was everywhere at once. He wanted to kiss her, hold her, laugh with her, take care of her. He wanted to watch her face as he slid inside her and made her come, then wrap her in his arms as they slept.