on.” She turned. He followed her through the great room to her cozy kitchen at the back of the house. “Sit down.” She gestured at the table.
He sat, hardly daring to believe he was actually here in her kitchen again, that not only had he come here in the middle of the night, she had answered the door. She had let him in.
Maybe it wasn’t over, after all.
He watched, dumbfounded, as she put water on for the tea she liked and loaded up the coffeemaker for him. She looked more beautiful than ever, he thought, with her hair a little wild, her face scrubbed clean of makeup, wearing a lightweight yellow robe that revealed a lot of sleek bare leg and adorable bare feet with toenails painted the color of a ripe plum.
She pushed the brew button on the coffeemaker and took the chair across from him. “What else?”
“Uh. Excuse me?”
“It seemed as though you had more to say.”
“I did. I do.”
She folded her hands on the tabletop. “I’m listening.”
He raked his fingers back through his hair. “It’s only … I’m sorry, but I can’t give you more than this summer. This, right now, that’s all I’m ready for. I’m not … cut out for anything more.”
Her red-kissed brows drew together and he knew he wasn’t making much sense.
He confessed, “I, well, I was a lousy husband, you know?”
“No. I didn’t know.”
“I was. Just lousy. All that really mattered to me was my work. I wanted to take what my father and grandfather had started and make it more. New, exciting locations, each one-of-a-kind, each a luxury boutique hotel with stylish rooms, signature restaurants, bars and destination spas. I considered marriage and children as no more than something that was expected of me, something I needed to get out of the way so I could focus on my work, on growing the McFarlane House brand. So I fulfilled what I saw as my obligation to acquire a spouse, to procreate. I found a beautiful woman with the right pedigree and I married her.”
“You … you didn’t care for her at all?”
He shrugged. “Looking back, I think I told myself I cared. But really, being brutally honest now, I didn’t care enough. Yes, I told my ex-wife I loved her, but it was just because I knew it was something I was supposed to say. And it’s only by necessity that I’m trying to figure out how to be a halfway decent dad for CJ.”
“But, Connor, you are trying. That’s what matters.”
“No. I’m doing what I have to do, fulfilling my responsibility to my son. Period. I live for my work, and I’m not husband material. I can’t see that changing. I’m just not a family man.”
She caught her lower lip between her even white teeth—and then let it go. “Clearly, it’s not going to do any good to tell you that you’re a better man than you think you are.”
He stuck with the truth, painful as it was to reveal. “I think you want me to be a better man.”
She gazed at him for a long time. And then, finally, she conceded, “Yes. That may be true, to an extent. I would like you to be the best you can be. Tonight, though, I see that you already are a good man. A man capable of honesty. Of trust. And I understand what you’re telling me. I already knew—or at least, I knew the part about how you’re not up for anything long-lasting. We talked about it before, remember?”
“Of course I remember. I remember everything. Every look. Every smile. Every word we said.” He swore low. “I sound like an idiot, some hopeless fool …”
“No. You don’t.” She reached out her hand to him. He met her halfway, in the middle of the table. Palm to palm, they wove their fingers together. “You don’t sound like a fool, not in the least.” Her soft mouth trembled on a smile. “I’m so glad that you’re here. That it’s not over, after all.”
He shoved back his chair and stood. She stood with him. And then, hands still joined, in unison they stepped toward each other around the table. Once she was close enough, he reeled her in. She felt like heaven in his arms.
“No, it’s not over,” he said, staring down into those beautiful misty eyes. “Not yet …”
“Not yet …” she echoed, lifting her mouth to him. He took it. Wrapping her tighter, closer, he kissed her deeply, learning all the sweet, wet surfaces behind her parted lips.
When he lifted his head, it was only to slant it the other way and claim her lips again. He could have stood there in her kitchen, holding her, kissing her, until the sun came up.
But then the kettle whistled and the coffeemaker beeped. He let her go so she could brew her tea and pour his coffee.
They sat across from each other again.
He stared at his untouched mug, at the fragrant curl of steam rising from it. “Jerilyn told CJ what happened Saturday, the crisis with Jerilyn’s father. He said your dad flew in from Denver to help. Jerilyn says she has hope now, that things will be all right.”
“CJ told you what Jerilyn told him?”
“He did.”
“I think I would call that actual communication—and the beginnings of trust, as well.”
“So would I. Due in large part to you, Tori. I’m trying, I really am, to take your advice, to let him know I’m on his side, that he can count on me. I think it just may be working—at least a little.”
“I’m so glad.”
“You haven’t touched your tea.”
She tipped her head to the side the way she always did when she was studying him. “And you aren’t drinking your coffee.”
He confessed, “I’m thinking about holding you in my arms again. And I’m also thinking that if I start kissing you, I won’t want to stop.”
“Would that be … so bad?” Her voice was shy, hesitant. Her eyes were anything but.
“Uh-uh. Not bad at all. It would be really, really good. But I don’t want to rush you into anything you might regret.”
Her smile was full of feminine intent. “How long do you plan to stay here in town?”
“I have to leave Wednesday, for meetings in Philadelphia. But I’ll be back by Friday afternoon.”
Steadily, she held his gaze. “I meant, how long are you planning to be living in town? When will you be leaving for good? “
“If the resort deal works out, I’ll be here into the winter, at least. But after CJ returns to school, I’ll make my home base back east, and only be in Thunder Canyon on and off.”
“And CJ starts school …?”
“At the end of August.”
“A little
