Bottom Line: Callaghan Brothers, Book 8 (9 page)

“It is true, Lex,” he sighed.  Yeah, he knew she cared for him, and they had a history.  But things were different now.  She had a family, and responsibilities that no longer included him.  Maybe it was selfish of him, but he missed the fact he was no longer the one looking out for her.  Aidan needed that.  It was in his nature to dominate, to care for, to protect.  It was part of who he was, ingrained into every last fiber of his being.

“And I’m happy for you,” he continued when she opened her mouth to refute him.  “I really am.  This is the way things were meant to be, and not even I am arrogant enough to second-guess Fate.”

Lexi sat back, biting her bottom lip.  For years, he and Lexi were inseparable.  His father had paired them together, and Aidan had assumed the role of friend, caretaker, protector, and business partner.  While they remained close and still worked together, many of those other roles had been reassigned to her husband and in-laws. 

“I love you, Aidan.  I always will.”

He smiled at her and laced his fingers through hers.  “I know that, Lex.  And I love you.  My blood’s your blood, yeah?”

It was a running joke between them.  Prior to Michael Callaghan’s revolutionary treatment, Lexi’s rare blood disease had required many transfusions over the years, and Aidan had been the primary donor in all of them.

“Yeah,” she agreed, blowing out a breath.  “Now quit trying to distract me and get back to your woman.  Come on.  Dish.”

”She’s not my woman,” he corrected, but something deep inside him protested as he said the words.  His rational mind, the one that put his net worth in the nine-figure mark, said it wasn’t possible to make those kinds of assumptions on such limited data. 

“But she is something.  She lives in Birch Falls, has a big yellow Lab named Max that thinks he’s human, and works in a flower shop.  Conlan O’Leary thinks very highly of her, too,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

“He does, huh?” Lexi mused.  “Well, far be it from me to second-guess
Daideo
.  Ian said he’s known for sixth sense about those kinds of things.”

“What kind of things?”

“People.  Who’s meant for whom.  That kind of thing.  Keely says he’s the one who basically set her and Mick Connelly up.  Did
Daideo
say you should ask her out?”

Aidan thought back.  “Not exactly.  He did warn me not to hurt her, though.”

Lexi nodded.  “That’s good.  If he didn’t think there was something there he would have told you flat out to leave her alone.”

“You think?”

“I do.  So.  You’re bringing her here for your date, right?”

Aidan shook his head.  “No.  I’m helping her out with something at her place.  I said I’d bring dinner.  You’ll help me out, right?”

“Of course I will, you big goof.  But why not bring her here?  You know, dazzle her a little?  Impress her with some of that Aidan Harrison magic?”

“Because.  She doesn’t know about any of this,” he confessed, waving his hand in the air, symbolically encompassing the Goddess.  “She thinks I’m a regular guy.”

“You
are
a regular guy,” Lexi told him.  “You just happen to be an insanely wealthy, powerful one, too.”

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t need to know that yet.  It’s kind of nice thinking she likes me for just me, you know?”

Lexi’s eyes softened.  “Wow.  You really like this one, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“You think she might be The One?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.  It was too early for that, and to be truthful, he didn’t know if there even was such a thing.  On the surface, he wanted what every other man wanted - a loving, devoted woman who cared more for him than anything else.  But underneath, Aidan had a darkness that needed to be fed regularly.  He’d always hoped that if he could find a woman that satisfied everything else, he’d be strong enough to keep that other part of him in check, but he feared otherwise.  And as promising as Mary seemed, it was simply too much to hope that underneath her milk-and-honey exterior, she was a closet submissive who would not only be capable of satisfying his needs, but wanting and needing it every bit as much as he did.

“I do know that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her.  That she’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

“That’s a good start,” Lexi said, smiling.  “Now let’s see what we can do about keeping it going.  What are we making for her this weekend?”

* * *

M
ary rearranged the colorful planter.  Again.  She cast a critical eye into every last nook and crevice, but she already knew the place was immaculate.  She’d been cleaning like a fiend since about two minutes after Aidan had left, wanting everything to be absolutely perfect.

Assuming he showed up.

Pushing the niggling doubts to the back of her mind, she paced from one room to the next, making final inspections.  Everything glowed, shined, and smelled fresh.  The heat was at a comfortable seventy-two degrees.  The fridge and cupboards were packed with everything a man might want to snack on.  Every offbeat British comedy and parody she had in her possession was dusted and placed where it could be readily snagged.

With a heavy exhale, she realized there was nothing else she could do.  She looked at her watch.

Five a.m.

Only another eight hours to go.

Time to start getting herself ready.

On her way to the bathroom, she paused to pet Max, who’d been watching her from beneath half-closed lids since she gave up on the idea of sleep around three.  She briefly considered unplugging the phone, rationalizating that if he couldn’t reach her, he’d be less likely to cancel.  It was tempting, but she forced herself to do the mature thing and just cross her fingers and knock on whatever wooden surface was within reach.

She gave herself a facial.  Plucked her eyebrows.  Waxed her legs.  Used a hot oil treatment on her hair.  Gave herself a mani and a pedi, then soaked in a tub of jasmine and almond oils to soften her skin all over. 

By twelve thirty, she was as ready as she was ever going to be.

She only hoped it would be enough. 

At exactly twelve fifty-five, the doorbell chimed.  Mary nearly tripped as she beat feet to the door (she had forced herself to remain in the kitchen rather than sit in the bow window waiting lest she seemed too eager or too desperate), pausing only long enough to take a deep breath and calm her rattled nerves before opening the door.

“You came.” 

* * *

“Y
ou doubted me,” he smiled back at her, both hands weighted down with large bags of take-out.  It was probably a good thing, too, because his first impulse was to grab her and give her a
proper
kiss.  As it was, he would save that for later. 

“You might want to put these in the oven,” he said apologetically.  “I’m afraid they might have gotten cold.”

Hell, he knew they were cold.  That’s what happened when you arrived for a date two hours early and then spend the time driving around aimlessly so you didn’t appear quite so anxious.

“No problem,” she said, taking the bags so Aidan could hang up his coat.  “I’ll put them on warm, then we can eat a bit later, if that’s okay.”

“Perfect,” he said, but he wasn’t talking about the food.  Mary looked absolutely radiant, and damn, did she smell good.

Aidan played with every one of the seasonal novelty toys before dutifully removing the batteries for storage.  Mary seemed to find this amusing, telling him that his eyes lit up like a little boy’s when he laughed.  That was okay.  He’d go to far greater lengths to get her to keep smiling and looking at him like that.

She also appreciated his height, teasing that with him around to remove the higher decorations, she hadn’t even had to get out the step ladder.  The fact that it took so little to please her awed him. 

He asked about each of the ornaments as they were carefully removed and individually wrapped before being placed into boxes.  They were nothing like those that adorned the professionally decorated Christmas trees he’d had growing up.  Nearly every one was unique and had a meaning or a memory associated with it, and Aidan was very interested in learning more about Mary.

A perfect example was the set of thirty-two dated Swarovski crystal snowflakes.  Mary explained that her mother bought her one every year as a birthday present, shyly revealing that her birthday just happened to fall on Christmas Day, and that was the reasoning behind her name... Mary Christine.

Along with each snowflake, there was another ornament for each year, one that symbolized something of significance at that time.  Like the ceramic, glazed ice skate that came from the first time her dad had taken her ice skating, or the gold-plated silver note from the year of her first piano recital.  Each was a token reminder of the milestones in her life.  Some were big, some not-so-big, but all provided Aidan with insight into the woman that had so captured his interest.

She spoke fondly of each as she wrapped them in soft cotton, with only a few exceptions. Five, if he counted correctly.  Ornaments that she quietly packed away herself without a word.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that whatever memories were associated with those were painful ones, memories she was not ready to share with him yet.  He couldn’t fault her for that, not after she had shared so much with him, and especially not when he hadn’t been nearly as forthcoming. 

His conscience gnawed at him, but he pushed it back, rationalizing that he wasn’t withholding anything bad.  With Mary, he could simply be himself.  He was loathe to do or say anything that might change that. 

T
aking down her Christmas decorations was something Mary dreaded each year.  Normally, it took an entire weekend and was a rather depressing process.  Not so with Aidan helping.  He was easily amused, and she loved hearing him laugh as he played with the seasonal toys. 

He’d seemed fascinated by her collection of keepsake ornaments and the stories behind them, as well.  Certain that she must be boring him beyond belief, she tried unsuccessfully several times to turn the conversation back to him, but he was far more interested in listening than talking. 

Mary couldn’t remember the last time she’d shared so much with anyone, let alone someone she’d just met.  With anyone else, it might have felt awkward, but not with Aidan.  In spite of their slightly rocky beginning, an instant, comfortable connection had snapped into place between them. 

If pressed, she wouldn’t have been able to explain it.  Being with Aidan just felt right.

Time flew, and in only a few hours, the chore was complete.  Her treasured decorations were wrapped and boxed, ready to be packed away until next year.  Aidan helped with that, too.  Mary couldn’t help but admire Aidan’s broad shoulders and flexing muscles as he assumed the task of putting the boxes up in the attic above the garage.  Looking at his tight, sculpted behind while he was on the pull-down stairs was a nice bonus, too.

“Hungry?” he asked, descending the stairs one last time.

She licked her bottom lip as she forced her eyes from his powerful legs, over his lean hips, along his chest (she could see the T-shirt stretched tight where his flannel button-down gaped), and back to his face to find him looking at her. 

“Um, yeah.”  Mary broke free of the lust coiling itself around her like a boa, turning away before he spotted the guilty flush at being caught ogling him.  “Starving, actually.” 

It wasn’t a lie on either count.  She’d been too nervous to eat earlier that morning, and she hadn’t had sex in more than eight years.

Now that all the decorations had been taken care of, she felt free to concentrate on other things.  Like the lustful ache that had been building in her core over the past several hours.  There was something extremely sexy about a man who cared enough to listen to her prattle on for an entire afternoon and did the heavy lifting. 

“I’ll start taking things out of the oven.”

Mary scampered from the attached garage back into the kitchen.  She needed to get a grip.  Yes, Aidan was gorgeous.  Yes, he had the sculpted body of a Greek god and the facial features to match.  And yes, he had been helpful and charming and attentive all afternoon.  But that didn’t mean he felt the same powerful urges that she did.  After all, other than the chaste kiss at her door days ago, he hadn’t given her any indication that he wanted more.  (A few times, she thought she’d felt his eyes on her when she wasn’t looking, but she hadn’t actually caught him ogling.)

With her mind consumed by those thoughts, Mary opened the oven door and reached in.  A second later she yelped, jerking back her hand when the searing pain made her realize she’d neglected to put on mitts. 
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
she cursed inwardly. 

She ran over to the sink and put her hand under cold water, then reached up to tear a thick stalk from the aloe vera plant she kept on the window sill for just such a situation.  Slitting it open with her fingernail, she spread the viscous gel over the burn.

“Mary?  What happened?”  Aidan was suddenly there, his brows creased in concern.

“Nothing,” she lied, looking over her shoulder and offering what she hoped was a reassuring smile.  “Just me being clumsy.” 

She turned her back to him at the sink, hurriedly wrapping a towel around her hand.

“Mary.  Don’t hide from me.”  His words and the sharp, authoritative tone in which he spoke them were so different from the soft, polite manner he’d displayed all day.  They sent shivers down her spine; not frightening, exactly, but ripe with demand and authority. 

Turning off the water, she flicked the husk of the aloe off to the side.  She turned then, keeping her hand behind her. 

“Give me your hand.”  Golden brown eyes burned into her.  Fierce.  Commanding.  Relentless.  Mary felt their heat acutely, stoking the slow burn that had been building inside her.

“No.”  She stiffened her shoulders and lifted her chin, but there was no concealing the breathless quality imbued in that one word.

“Mary,” he warned.  One word, her name, filled with promise.  “Give me your hand.”