A Love Surrendered (33 page)

“Really.” She scrunched her nose. “Of course, your thick head and caveman mentality does cancel a lot of that out, you know.”

His grin faded to soft as he caressed her cheek, weaving his hand into her hair. “I love you, Katie Rose,” he whispered, a prick of wetness in his eyes. “Thank you for loving me.”

“You’re welcome, Luke,” she said softly, grazing his jaw with the tips of her fingers. The barest hint of a twinkle lit in her eye. “It’s not too hard, you know—
most
of the time.”

He zeroed in on her lips, and his mouth went dry. “Dangerously handsome? Caveman mentality?” Prodding her back on the couch, he gave her a grin that had trouble written all over it. “You’re putting ideas into my head, Sass,” he whispered, taking his time to suckle her ear.

“Wouldn’t take much, McGee,” she said, voice breathless. “You tend to have a one-track mind when it comes to your wife.”

The grin ramped up to perilous. “Glad you noticed. I’d be in a sorry state if you hadn’t.” In one seamless move, he eased her legs up on the couch and stretched out beside her, playfully tugging her lip before delving into a kiss that made them both groan. “I wonder,” he whispered, her skin warm against his mouth, “should I utilize my caveman skills and carry you to bed over my shoulder or . . . ,” he nuzzled his way down the curve of her throat, “just make love to you right here?” His ragged breathing matched hers to a heartbeat as he placed wispy kisses along the delicate line of her collarbone. His hungry hand swept the length of her, pausing to play with the button of her skirt. He looked up with a half-lidded smile. “Any suggestions?”

“Just one,” she said, voice hoarse and breathing even worse.
She lassoed his neck and pulled him down hard. “Shut up and kiss me.”

Cabinets clattered in Marcy’s kitchen as Steven whistled up a storm, luring a smile to Faith’s lips while she and her mother and sisters sewed on the back porch. The earthy smell of cut grass and fresh mulch drifted on a warm summer breeze, along with the chatter of a mockingbird and children’s laughter. Sprawled on the lawn, Gabe and the cousins were harmonious for once, enjoying Popsicles from the Good Humor truck in a backyard manicured by Uncle Steven.

Charity leaned toward Faith, muffling her whisper with a hand to her mouth as she nodded toward the kitchen. “Saints almighty, what’s going on? Did Steven take a job as the Good Humor man . . . or do my matchmaking instincts detect Annie’s involved?”

Peeking at the kitchen window, Faith grinned when Steven broke into a chorus of “I’m in the Mood for Love.” “Close,” she said softly, ready to break into song herself. “Annie told me Thursday night our boy has finally asked her out for a movie tonight.”

The shirt Marcy was mending dropped along with her mouth. “Oh, I knew it!” she whispered. “Of course Steven’s been as tight-lipped as a tomb, but I suspected something with all his humming and whistling this week, kissing me every time he comes in the room and even laughing when your father humiliated him at chess.” She shook her head, a grin curving her lips. “I tell you what, the boy’s been downright giddy, and now I know why.” Her sigh was pure contentment. “Oh, I do hope Annie can reel him in—I like her.”

“Me too,” Emma said softly, gray eyes twinkling. “After all, it’s not often we see the buttoned-down Agent O’Connor off-kilter over a girl.”

Lizzie all but glowed, absently caressing the increasingly
cumbersome mound beneath her blue maternity shift. “And soooo romantic . . .”

Charity assessed the skirt she was sewing, face in a squint. “Oh, she’ll reel him in, all right, if I have anything to say about it,” she said with grunt.

Katie leaned in, her voice a whisper. “Not if he catches wind we’re pushing it. Growing up, all I had to do was let the little brat know I wanted him to do something, and he did the exact opposite. And frankly, I like Annie too much to risk that.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Charity said with an air of confidence. “Steven may be a brick wall when it comes to emotional involvement, but with all of us praying and my superior matchmaking skills, the man has no choice but to fall in love.” She held up a hem she’d just basted, eyeing it for accuracy. “Mark my words—the boy’s a goner.”

“Who’s a goner?” Steven asked, ambling through the screen door with a glass of lemonade. He upended it, then wiped his wet forehead with the side of his arm while he perched on the wood railing. Drenched with sweat and riddled with grass stains, his sleeveless T-shirt revealed tan, muscled arms, and a smooth, solid chest.

“Henry,” Charity said without missing a beat, “who else?”

Steven chuckled, white teeth gleaming in a face dark from outside sports and lawn work. He ruffled fingers through damp hair that was such a deep chestnut, it almost looked black. “What’s the boy done now?” he asked, taking another drink.

“Oh, you know, the usual—smoking Father’s pipe, worms in his sister’s bed, building an armory with rocks, mud balls, and persimmons for a game of Civil War.”

“That’s not so bad.” Steven set his glass on the railing. “All boys like to play war.”

Charity’s brow spiked. “In their father’s brand-new Ford Model A Roadster?”

“Ouch.” Steven grinned, biceps taut as he folded his arms. “Poor Mitch. Bet that hurt.”

“Not as much as it hurt Henry. Mitch went off like a rocket’s red glare. Haven’t seen the love of my life lose it like that since . . .” She paused to think, head cocked and hand to mouth. “Well, I guess since yesterday when he cut his face with the razor I used on the neighbor’s dog.” She scrunched her nose and shivered. “Beggar’s lice and skunk. Don’t ask—it’s not pretty.”

Faith laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll tell you what, sis, I swear Henry is God’s comeuppance for all the trouble you gave me growing up, and now Mitch.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Charity said with a thin gaze. “The good Lord said, ‘I will be merciful to their iniquities, and their sins will I remember no more.’ Trust me, I’m hanging my hat on that one.” She chewed the edge of her lip, eyes in a squint. “Although it is awfully suspicious I live with both Mitch and Henry.” She waved her hand. “Oh well, it’s not important. All that matters is Henry is punished for what he did to Kelsey Raber.”

Steven tipped his glass for a piece of ice. “Uh-oh, what’d he do to Kelsey Raber?”

Charity arched a brow. “The worms-in-the-bed stunt?” She nodded, mouth in a wry slant. “Kelsey Raber spent the night with Hope. Poor kid crawled into bed and screamed, giving a whole new meaning to the term ‘night crawlers.’ ”

“No!” Emma put a hand to her mouth, a smile peeking through while her sisters chuckled, shaking their heads. Steven just laughed and popped more ice while Emma threaded a needle, brows in a crimp. “But I thought you said Henry had a crush on Kelsey.”

“He does,” Charity said with a scowl. “And that’s his way of showing it. Completely ignores her except for stunts like that.” She glanced up at Steven, mouth kinked. “Maybe you can tell me, Steven—why do men ignore a woman they obviously like?”

Mid-drink, a spray of lemonade misted the air as Steven choked.

Faith jumped up to pat him on the back while he hacked, his cheeks as red as the kids’ cherry Popsicles. “You okay?” She bit back a smile.
Goodness, Annie, what have you done to the boy?

Steven nodded hard, palm in the air.

“Personal experience?” Charity asked with a devilish smile.

He shot up, waving Faith away. “No!” he said with a hoarse clear of his throat. He bolted for the door. “See ya. Just remembered something I need to do.”

The screen door slammed, and Marcy quirked a brow. “See what I mean? A tomb, and one buried six feet under at that. Lips and pride sealed tight and scared to death somebody’s going to break in.”

“Well, don’t you worry, Mother, I’ll get the scoop from Annie come Thursday.” Faith tugged a torn pair of trousers into her lap, lips squirming into a mischievous smile. “Because Steven’s lips may be sealed tighter than a tomb, but trust me—it’s his pride we’re gonna bury.”

12

C
ards exploded in the air while Annie dove for a spoon a split second after Steven snatched the last from the pile. Teeth clenched as tight as her fist, she yanked with all her might, ignoring Steven’s grin as they played tug-of-war on Aunt Eleanor’s parlor floor. With Glory cheering him on, he gave Annie a slow wink before easily jerking the spoon from her grip, leaving her with bright red fingers and cheeks that were even worse.

“Whoop-eee! Annie has S-P-O-O-N and we win!!” Glory bounced up and down on Steven’s lap, her giggles ricocheting off the walls when his fingers became “Tickle Monster.”

He slid Annie a lazy grin over the little girl’s wild blonde curls. “Sorry, kid,” he teased, “but face it—you’re just not that fast.”

She collected her cards with a smirk, reaching around Mr. Grump to retrieve a few strays. The basset lay oblivious, surrounded by a sea of board games. “Not that fast . . . mmm. I suppose that might be considered a good thing if dating you, wouldn’t you say, Agent O’Connor?”

His grin broadened considerably. “Oh yeah,” he said, warming her with a smoky look.

She lowered her head, hoping to hide the blush she felt by focusing on collecting more cards, well aware Steven O’Connor
had a disastrous effect on her.
Particularly
now after dating two months. One look, one kiss was all it took to send her pulse into overdrive, and Annie was grateful he appeared to be taking it slow. He’d been the perfect gentleman so far, no lingering in the car and nothing more than a safe kiss at the door.

Safe?
Annie gulped, watching him horse around with Glory, biceps bulging while pumping her up and down in the air. Who was she kidding? Every moment spent with him just meant she fell a little more in love, and although the kisses at the door started out gentle and tame, Annie sensed a change that felt anything but “safe.” The last time he’d said good night, he’d butted her to the portico wall with an urgency in his kiss that both excited and alarmed her. A warm shiver skittered as he wrestled with Glory, and she couldn’t help but worry that sometime soon, she might be doing some wrestling of her own.

“Let’s play dominoes,” Glory shouted, plopping down on Steven’s back.

“Sorry, dear.” Aunt Eleanor looked up, needlepoint in hand. “It’s almost eight, and after traipsing through the zoo with Steven and your sister all day, you’ll need a bath before bed.”

“But I’m not tired,” Glory moaned over Steven’s shoulder, “and Steven’s still here.”

“But leaving soon, Glory Girl,” he said emphatically, flipping her little body over his head before laying her down flat.

She squealed and scampered back up, hanging onto his legs after he jumped to his feet. “But why do you have to leave so soon?” she asked, blue eyes peering up.

He hoisted her up in his arms to deposit a kiss on her nose, lips curving into a soft smile. “Gotta go to work, little girl. Special assignment.”

“But when are you coming back?”

He gave Annie a lidded smile that doubled her pulse. “That’s up to your sister.”

“Soon,” Annie promised. She tugged Glory from his arms.

“Not soon enough,” he whispered, his wayward fingers straying down her arms.

“Come on, squirt,” Annie said, “I’ll let you use my honeysuckle bubble bath.”

“And wear one of your silky nightgowns too?” she asked, the glow of hope in her eyes.

Something bittersweet plucked at Annie’s heart at Glory wanting to follow in the path of her big sister.
Just like I used to with Maggie.
Fighting a stab of melancholy, she nuzzled Glory’s nose. “Absolutely.” She slipped Steven a smile. “Do you have time to wait till I get her in the tub, Steven, or do I need to say goodbye now?”

“I’ll wait,” he said, the look in his eyes doing funny things to her stomach.

Aunt Eleanor removed her reading glasses and placed them on the table. “No, Annie, I’ll take care of Glory tonight.” She put her needlepoint aside and rose. “Steven’ll be leaving soon, dear, so I’ll let you see him out.” She bent to rumple Mr. Grump’s ears before tugging a yawning Glory away from Annie. “Come on, Mr. Grump, you can finish your nap upstairs.” Her smile was warm. “Good night, Steven, thank you for giving my girls such a wonderful day.”

My girls.
Annie’s throat thickened as she gave Glory to her aunt with a grateful smile.

“My pleasure, Miss Martin,” Steven said, squatting to gather the games from the floor.

Annie ruffled Glory’s hair before they left the room with Mr. Grump toddling behind. “Thanks, Aunt Eleanor, I’ll be up shortly to take over. And don’t overdo it with my bubble bath, you stinkpot,” she called with a playful threat, “or I just may join you in that tub and give you some dunks.”

“Now there’s a mental picture I’m pretty sure you don’t want me to have.”

Annie spun around, cheeks aflame at the implication. She knelt to help put away the games, avoiding his eyes. “Uh, no, I’d rather you strike it from memory, if you don’t mind.”

“Done,” he said with a chuckle, stretching out on his side to stack dominoes in a box a few inches away. His smile turned rogue. “Although not without repercussions, I’m afraid.”

She peeked up. “Repercussions,” she repeated, battling a smile. “Such as?”

“Such as thoughts of you in nothing but bubbles,” he whispered, voice husky as he reached to tug her close, nudging her back on the carpet with a hazardous smile.

“Steven!” Her whisper was hoarse as he lay beside her, head propped in one hand while his muscled arm pinned her with the other. She wiggled to get back up, to no avail. “Stop it. What if Aunt Eleanor were to walk back in?” she whispered, voice frantic.

The blue of his eyes deepened. “Come on, Annie,” he said softly, inching close. His tease faded to a whisper. “You can’t expect us to spend the day together without a single kiss and then taunt me with that image of you in the tub.”

“Steven, I—”

Her bones melted into warm honey when he kissed her right there on the carpet, and for several mind-numbing moments, nothing mattered but Steven’s mouth exploring hers or the warmth of his hand gliding her hips. A silent moan trapped in her throat when he pressed in close, lips skimming her jaw to nip at her ear. “Oh, Annie, I never met a girl like you . . .”

“Oh, babe, I never met a girl like you . . .”

She froze, Brubaker’s words hot in her ear. Heart racing, she pushed him away hard, her breathing as ragged as his when she stumbled to her knees. She suddenly felt cheap, and her anger flared. “No, I suspect you haven’t if you think I’m going to fall for a line like that, Steven O’Connor . . . or should I say, Billy Brubaker?”

He stared, shallow breaths heaving from parted lips. The smoky glaze in his eyes glinted into anger. “I’m not Billy Brubaker,” he said, his whisper more than harsh.

“Then don’t act like it,” she snapped, repeating the very words he’d once said to her.

She’d never seen Steven blush before, but he did so now, a dangerous shade that bled all the way up his neck. His jaw was like rock as he rose to his feet, and his blue eyes were almost black. “I have to go, but please thank your aunt for dinner.” He strode toward the door and turned, tone clipped and gaze hard, displaying a temper she didn’t even know he had. “If I get a chance, I’ll give you a call, but don’t hold your breath, kid.” He turned to go.

“Steven!” She jutted her chin, incensed he was turning the tables on her, making this her fault instead of his. “Just so you know,” she called, stopping him at the door as he glared over his shoulder, “don’t bother calling if you plan to pull this again. Because if you do—it’s over.”

“
If
I call.” He jerked the front door open and slid her a granite gaze, a muscle flickering in his cheek. “Get this and get it good, little girl—no woman, much less a kid barely eighteen, is going to dictate to me, ya got that?” The door slammed hard, both on its hinges and in her heart, and she winced, praying the bathwater was running and Aunt Eleanor couldn’t hear.

———

Steven stormed to his father’s car and hurled the door open, heaving it closed again with a deafening bang before grinding the ignition. The engine roared to life, rivaling the fury in his gut, and he was sorely tempted to squeal away from the curb. He punched the dash with his fist before slumping over the wheel with a hand to his eyes, desperate to control a temper he seldom lost. Every nerve in his body was on edge, tight, and ready to snap. Who the devil did she think she was? She was just some kid still wet behind the ears who thought she was going to tell him how it was going to be. Well, he had news for Miss Susannah Grace Kennedy, there were plenty of women who would accommodate him with a few kisses and more, and they certainly wouldn’t be naïve enough to compare him to vermin like Brubaker.

“Oh, babe, I never met a girl like you . . .”

The words suddenly stabbed in his brain, and his eyelids
sank shut, all air heaving still in his chest. Like the shift of a kaleidoscope, the pieces fell into place and he suddenly saw just what Annie had seen—Brubaker pressuring a woman to get what he wants.

“He doesn’t care like I do,” he hissed, but even as he said it, he could see the old Steven coercing his way, looking for pleasure with a woman he cared for until she gave him her all. Pushing, teasing, breaking her down . . . just like he’d done with Maggie.

“Oh, Annie, I never met a girl like you . . .”

But the truth was, he had, and he’d ruined her—just like he was trying to do to Annie.

Sagging back against the seat, shame burned all anger away while bile climbed in his throat. Because deep down inside, he realized he wasn’t much different than Brubaker, and somehow he couldn’t live with that thought.
God, help me, I am such a jerk . . .

He flung the car door open, then slammed it again and loped up to the porch, pressing the buzzer so hard that his thumb ached. Peering through the thick, beveled glass, he thought he saw Frailey in the foyer, but his heart thudded to a stop at the approach of a woman instead.

“Steven?” Eleanor Martin blinked, hand on the knob. “Did you forget something?”

“Yes, Miss Martin, I did. I . . . forgot to tell Annie something.” Striving for nonchalance, he plunged his hands in his pockets and smiled, his voice calmer than he felt. “Is she still up?”

“Certainly.” Eleanor stepped back. “Why don’t you come in, and I’ll get her.”

“No,” he said too quickly, palm raised in the air. “I mean, I can’t stay. I just forgot to tell her something, so if it’s all the same to you, I’ll just wait right here.”

“All right.” A furrow wrinkled her brow. “She’ll be right down.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He exhaled his relief when she closed
the door. Minutes later, Annie descended the steps, and when it wheeled open again, his heart climbed in his throat.

“You have something to say?” Her voice was cool and her eyes, cautious.

He swallowed hard, painfully aware that for the first time in his life, a girl had him by the throat.
No, not a girl
, he decided with a shaky exhale,
a woman
. A strong, beautiful woman who at eighteen was more mature and steady and smart than he could ever hope to be at twenty-five, and the realization humbled him considerably. And, he thought with a hard shift of his throat, diminished the years between them as well. He sucked in a fortifying breath, determined to squash his pride and do the right thing.

“Yeah, I . . .” His hands began to sweat, making him feel all of ten again. “Well, I wanted to apologize, Annie, for losing my temper and for . . . ,” he licked his lips, tongue so thick, he thought he would choke, “trying to . . . push you . . .” His voice trailed off as he stared at her, scared to death he was falling in love. Those pale green eyes and that fresh-scrubbed face dusted with freckles bewitched him like no other woman ever had, even Maggie. Beautiful inside and out, a gentle spirit and innocence he could drown in . . . and a body that could threaten it all.

Annie, please—give me another chance.

Taking a risk, he quietly hooked her fingers with his own, gently tugging her out on the porch. He closed the door till it was ajar, then released her and shoved his hands in his pockets with a tentative smile. “So, what do you say, kid—can you forgive me for being a jerk?”

He waited, unable to breathe while she assessed him through pensive eyes, lips pursed as if she couldn’t decide. And then he saw it, the barest tilt of assent flickering at the corners of her beautiful mouth, and with a boyish smile, the air slowly seeped from his lungs. He took her hand in his and grazed her knuckles with his thumb. “Please tell me that’s a ‘yes.’ ”

She nodded, and he inhaled deeply, releasing it again as he slowly drew her into his arms.

“I’m really sorry, Annie, for losing my temper, but the bottom line is I’m so darned attracted to you, I have trouble keeping my hands to myself.”

She pulled back to search his face, a tinge of sadness lining her smile. “It’s not easy for me either, Steven, because it’s no secret I’m in love with you, and when you kiss me like that . . . touch me like that . . .” Moisture glazed her eyes while her voice softened to a whisper. “I want to give you my all, but I can’t, because it doesn’t belong to you. My body may crave your touch and I may want to give you mine, but that’s not love, even if it seems like it at the time. True love always wants the best for the other, and although you may not agree, the best is only available through the hand of God.” She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “Which means, if you want a relationship with me, we’ll be doing things God’s way, not ours.” She cupped his bristled jaw with a soft smile, reeling him in with every breath that she took. “Because,
my
bottom line is I care about you too much to hurt you that way . . .”