THE TEMPTATION OF SEAN MCNEILL

by Virginia Kantra

  But later, as Sean carried plates to the dining room, Patrick stopped him with a hand on his arm.

  "I don't know what you're getting into here," his brother said. "Do you?"

  Sean scowled. "I'm not looking to hurt her, if that's what you mean."

  "No. I'm more concerned with whether she could hurt you. This mess that she's in—are you sure it's your fight?"

  The same thought had bothered Sean. He shook it away. Rachel and her kids needed him. "Since when did you start worrying about me getting into fights?"

  "Maybe now that you're grown up, I don't want to see anything happen to that pretty face of yours."

  Sean ran his hand over his face. He was the only MacNeill brother to survive adolescence with an unbroken nose. He shrugged. "So, if I'm grown up now, maybe I've got more important things to worry about."

  He went through to the dining room, where Rachel was setting forks around the table.

  She looked up, her pretty mouth compressed with concern. "I hope I didn't offend your family earlier, speaking out like that."

  Offend them? Con, at least, was delighted to watch him take the fall at last. "You didn't offend them."

  "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

  "You didn't embarrass me."

  She set her plates down on the table. "It just made me see red when you're so clearly qualified and committed to doing this, and they did their big-brother-knows-best routine."

  "Rachel." He was shaken by her faith in him. He backed her into the china cabinet and caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, enjoying the way her mahogany eyes went wide. "I don't need your support against my brothers. But I like having you in my corner. I like it a lot."

  He bent his head and laid his lips on hers. The kiss started smooth and soft and easy. A gesture of thanks. And then the hitch in her breath hooked him and her warm scent fled him in, and he wanted—needed—more. He kissed her again, urged her lips to part and her tongue to play with his.

  And cool-schoolteacher Rachel, let's-befriends Rachel, nothing's-going-to-change Rachel, put her arms around him and kissed him back.

  He took it deeper, savoring her quick shudder against him. Friends, my butt, he thought with delight.

  Her hands tightened in his hair and he stopped thinking at all. There was only Rachel, her smooth warm skin and her hot slick mouth and the hunger in her that woke a primitive need in him. He leaned into her, pushed against her with enough force to make the glasses inside the old pine breakfront chime together. The sound sang in his ears, recalled him to their surroundings.

  He couldn't take her in his brother's dining room with their families about to walk in any minute.

  Sean lifted his head.

  And saw Rachel's ten-year-old daughter watching them through the doorway to the living room.

  "Hell," he said.

  Lindsey turned and ran.

  "What?" Rachel's mouth was red from his kisses. Her eyes were wide and worried. "What is it?"

  "Nothing," he muttered. "I hope it's nothing. I'll be right back."

  * * *

  Sean found Lindsey in the barn, curled in the kittens' stall. She spared him one long, cool look when he showed up and then stared stubbornly down at the straw by her feet.

  That was all right, Sean told himself, trying to ignore the sympathetic lurch of his heart at the miserable set of her mouth. He'd had females mad at him before.

  He knew better than to ask if he could come in. He unlatched the stall, making the four black-and-white kittens inside scatter, and closed it behind him.

  "You want to talk?" he asked.

  "No."

  "Fine. I'll talk. You can listen." He looked around for a seat. Found it on the bin that held the pet food. It creaked under his weight. "You saw me with your mom."

  Her chin angled up. "You were kissing her."

  So much for not talking. "Yeah, I was."

  "She said you were 'friends.'" Scorn and betrayal vibrated in Lindsey's voice.

  "Yeah, I heard her." He studied her averted face. He wished he had Patrick's experience at fathering. He envied Con his smooth way of reasoning. All Sean had to go on was his knowledge of the female species and his affection for this one particular child. He hoped they would be enough. "So, are you mad because you think she lied to you, or mad because I kissed her?"

  Lindsey lifted one shoulder. "She never tells me what's going on."

  Sean sympathized with her frustration. "That's her way of trying to protect you."

  She looked at him directly for the first time. "Will you tell me?"

  "I can't tell you everything," Sean said cautiously. He'd come out here to make things right for Rachel. But meeting Lindsey's suspiciously shiny eyes, he realized he wanted to do right by her daughter as well. And that didn't include more lies. "If you ask me stuff I can answer, I will."

  Lindsey looked back at the kittens. One of them, a black-and-white puffball, was batting a leaf across the hard-packed floor. "Are you her boyfriend?"

  "I've got feelings for your mom," Sean said quietly. "And I'm hoping she's got feelings for me. I don't know if we've figured out what to do about all those feelings yet."

  "But you're grown-ups."

  Right. "And she's your mom. She loves you. She loves you and Chris more than anything. She's got to look at what it would mean to you before she gets mixed up with me."

  The child's gaze slid sideways again. "You're all right," she muttered.

  Warmth bloomed in his chest. He felt like she'd given him season tickets to the Celtics. Center court.

  "I like you, too," he said.

  "But I'm still mad at my mom."

  Well. Sean shifted on the pet food bin. "Sometimes," he said slowly, "it's easier to be mad at the parent who stays than the parent who goes away. My dad, he was a marine."

  Lindsey watched the black-and-white kitten corner the leaf and pounce. But he could tell she was listening. It was there, in the angle of her head, in the tension in her neck. "So?"

  "So, he was gone a lot when I was growing up. Overseas. I missed him, but I didn't talk about it much. I was afraid it would make my mom sad. And I didn't want my brothers to think I was a baby."

  "I miss my daddy," Lindsey said to the kitten.

  "I know you do, honey." Anger filled him at the man who had been her father, who had skipped out on his responsibilities and her love. But anger wouldn't help Lindsey. "It used to make me mad, too," Sean said. "When my dad went away. Like he didn't love us enough to stay and take care of us. I couldn't take it out on him, because he wasn't around. And maybe I worried he didn't want to be around."

  Lindsey bent her head. There was a tiny pleat between her brows, a pout to her lower lip. She looked so much like Rachel that Sean's heart turned over in his chest.

  "Sometimes I was a real jerk about it," he continued. "Really gave my mom a hard time, until my brother pounded on me some. Patrick," he explained, when her head came up in surprise. "I had to be a little older before I accepted that being away was part of our dad's job. That was how he took care of us."

  "My daddy killed himself," Lindsey whispered.

  "Yeah. I know. Only the way I figure it, maybe he was still taking care of you the best way he knew how, because he owed so many people money."

  Her face set. "I don't care about the money. He shouldn't have gone away."

  He stroked her hair. "I know."

  And before he had time to prepare, before he could shield his emotions, she ambushed him. His arms were full of little girl, bony knees and silky hair and streaming eyes. She cried as though she had a right to soak his shirt and break his heart.

  He was in for it now, Sean thought. He didn't want to do this, didn't want to fall for a kid he couldn't claim and couldn't protect. Panic almost made him bolt the barn. But he stuck, because this kid didn't have anywhere to run and no one else to turn to. He held her until her tears melted his last resistance and she was quiet in his arms, nestled in a corner of his hea
rt that had been empty for twelve restless years.

  "Better?" he asked.

  She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

  He lifted enough to dig his handkerchief out of his back pocket. "Here."

  She regarded it doubtfully. "Mom has tissues."

  "That's because she's a mom. Goes with the territory. My mother taught me to carry a handkerchief." When she still made no move to take it, he dried the tears from her flushed smooth cheeks himself.

  "But you've got to blow your own nose," he said, trying for stern, and got a watery chuckle in response.

  She blew her nose, hard, and then offered the handkerchief back.

  "Stick it in your pocket," he suggested.

  "I'm sorry," she said.

  "'S'all right."

  She sighed and relaxed against him. With the wailing done, the puffball kitten wobbled over to investigate. Lindsey almost—almost—smiled. And inspiration hit Sean over the head like a two-by-four.

  "Patrick's not going to want all these cats around in a couple of weeks," he said. "I was thinking I might take one off his hands."

  "You want a kitten?" Hope quavered in her voice.

  He'd never had responsibility for an animal in his life. He traveled too much, job site to job site. A pet required things, like being home at night and regular trips to the grocery store.

  "Yeah," he said firmly. "I do. You want to help me pick one out?"

  She leaned from his lap to stroke the black-and-white kitten with one finger. "Jack said they couldn't leave their mother yet."

  "They're too young now," Sean agreed. "But later, most of them will need another home. That's the way things are with cats."

  Very daring now, Fuzzball made a try for the girl's lap. Sean winced as kitty claws pricked through his jeans. Lindsey unhooked the animal from his knee and buried her nose in soft kitten fur.

  "It would miss its mom," she said, the words muffled.

  I miss my daddy.

  Sean nodded gravely. "Nobody could take the place of its real parent. But that doesn't mean somebody else, somebody lucky enough to take it home, couldn't love it. Maybe you could come by sometimes to visit. Give it attention. Do stuff with it, maybe—and then it wouldn't miss its real mom so much."

  She looked up at him, her nose still red from crying and her eyes vulnerable. "Do you think so?"

  There was an odd pressure in his chest. "Yeah, I think so. It might be tough at first, but I bet after a while it would be okay."

  She set the kitten down. It wandered around, its tail a fuzzy question mark, until one of its siblings jumped it. Lindsey laughed. After a while her hand crept into Sean's.

  "I think so, too," she said.

  Deep satisfaction filled him. Deep uneasiness. He was committed now to more than a kitten.

  They were still sitting hand in hand, watching the kittens play, when Rachel came to call them into dinner.

  * * *

  Chapter 13

  «^»

  The porch light was on. Her mother's house was dark and quiet, white curtains unmoving behind unbroken windows. No flames shot from the roof, no sirens disturbed the night Rachel got out of the car with a sense of relief so sharp it felt like disappointment.

  Sean's truck door slammed. He sauntered toward her with that gorgeous male walk of his, confident and aware inside his long-boned body.

  Desire dried her mouth. Not now, Rachel thought. She shouldn't be having these lustful, inappropriate thoughts now. Maybe when all this was over… No. Not then, either. The realization sunk in her stomach like a stone. Never again. She had her children to worry about, and her mother, and while Myra might have no judgment at all, Rachel wasn't going to do anything to compromise the safe and stable life her babies needed.

  "You didn't need to come back with me," she said. "I'm sure your brother would have liked you to spend the night."

  "My brother would kick my butt if he knew the kind of danger you were in and I didn't come back with you. You shouldn't be alone in the house. You're not safe."

  "And I'm so much safer with you sleeping in the garage?"

  He sent her a long, level look, and her heart gave a quick, undisciplined thump. "I'm not sleeping in the garage tonight."

  Heavens. Her face, her whole body, flushed and throbbed. She started clown the walk with short, quick steps. Remember the children, she instructed herself.

  "What were you and Lindsey talking about before dinner?" she asked when they reached the porch.

  He held out his hand for her keys. "Oh, I told her we could get a kitten."

  "A kitten?" Rachel didn't know whether she was amused or appalled.

  "Is that a problem? You don't like cats," he guessed.

  "I love cats," she said automatically. "Doug was the one who… Anyway, my mother doesn't want a pet. You should have discussed this with me first."

  He plucked the keys from her grasp. "Didn't have to. It's my cat. Mine and Lindsey's. It'll stay with me, in the garage."

  She could live with him taking her keys. But a pet for her children… He had no right to decide on something so important.

  Irritated, she said, "That's an awfully big commitment."

  "I can afford cat food, Rachel."

  "Not of money. Of your time."

  He unlocked the front door. "I don't mind. Lindsey needs a pet."

  "Lindsey needs a lot of things since her father died. She shouldn't expect you to provide them."

  "Why not, if I'm willing?"

  "Because you won't always be around."

  "That's your assumption."

  "I don't want to see her get hurt."

  He switched on a lamp and regarded her steadily in the yellow glow. "Are we still talking about Lindsey here?"

  She started to shake. He understood women too well. He saw her too clearly. Had he known she was falling in love with him before she realized it herself?

  "I don't want to see her hurt," she repeated stubbornly. "After my father died, there were too many men who came and went in my mother's life. In my life. I don't want that for my daughter."

  He tensed. "Any creeps?"

  She loved him for his immediate protective response. "Was I abused, do you mean?" She shook her head. "No. Once, when I was fifteen … but Mama sent him packing."

  He brushed his knuckle against her cheek. "I'm sorry."

  The tender gesture brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them away. "It was all right. I was all right. In a way, the nice guys were worse. You give away enough little pieces of your heart, you don't have much left. You start to wonder what makes the good ones all go away. Is there something the matter with your mother? Or is it your fault that none of them ever stay?"

  "Maybe they wanted to stay. Maybe they didn't have a choice."

  "Or maybe they just didn't care."

  "Bull. I cared."

  Cared. Past tense. Rachel frowned. "What are you talking about?"

  "Look, I'm not saying I'm Mr. Commitment. I've walked away from plenty of relationships. But the only time I ever walked out on a little girl it was because her mother took her away."

  Her heart stopped. "You have a little girl?"

  He raked his hair with his fingers. "I thought I did. For three months, twelve years ago."

  She closed her eyes to do the math. "The high school girlfriend."

  "Bingo."

  "She got pregnant?"

  "Right after we broke up. Only she shows up five months into it and tells me the baby's mine."

  "What did you do?"

  "What could I do? I quit school. Trina didn't want to get married. I pushed for it, but she said no."

  "But you supported her." Rachel was sure of it. "Hell, yes. I had to. Her parents kicked her out when they found out about the baby. We got a little apartment in Dorchester, and I got a job working construction with my cousin Ross."

  She thought of his strong, cohesive family, his solidly successful brothers. "That must have been hard," she
said softly.

  He shrugged. "It was no picnic. I had to be gone all day, and Trina cried all the time. Well, if we'd gotten along, we wouldn't have split up in the first place. But then Alyson was born, and it all seemed worthwhile."

  "Alyson?" she prompted.

  "My—Trina's daughter."

  "You loved her."

  "From the moment she was born. Trina had a rough time in delivery, so I took over getting up with the baby at night. She was so small." His voice was full of remembered wonder. "Small and perfect. She wasn't fussy. I'd go to pick her up and she'd look at me like I hung the moon, you know?"

  Rachel knew. "What happened?"

  "I came home from work one night—Alyson was three months old—and Trina tells me, all excited, that her baby's 'real father' has had a change of heart. Like all of a sudden, he wants them, so I'm supposed to disappear."

  "What did you do?"

  "Nothing," he said bleakly. "There wasn't a damn thing I could do. My name wasn't even on the birth certificate. Guess she was afraid she'd lose her meal ticket if she named the other guy, and she loved him enough not to name me. So instead of a father, Alyson had this big blank."

  Rachel admired his willingness to shoulder his teenage responsibilities. Ached for his loss. And understood so much more about his reluctance to give his heart away.

  "You were her father in every way that mattered."

  Sean wanted to believe her. But even he wasn't that big a chump. "Right. The kid will never remember me."

  "It's a child's first relationships that form the basis for the rest of her human attachments," she lectured in her best schoolteacher's voice. "It doesn't matter if she never knows your name. If you loved her, if you held her and talked to her and comforted her when she cried, you've given her a gift that will last the rest of her life."

  She was bright-eyed and earnest. Wonderful. Wrong. He hated to bust her bubble, but she had to know how things were. How he was.

  "I was just day labor, beautiful. That doesn't cut it, in construction or raising kids. In the long run, I wasn't there for her."

  "Not in the long rim," she acknowledged. "But sometimes being there at that moment is the best you can do. Sometimes it's enough."