Cara O'Shea's Return (3 page)

Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest, and a familiar flock of butterflies took flight in her belly. From the age of eleven, she’d lived for glimpses of Palmerton’s famous football hero. When he’d left town after graduation, she followed his college career and hadn’t missed a game or interview once he’d been drafted by Tampa and had gone pro, but three years had passed since she’d seen him in person.

The gray Boston College T-shirt stretched across his powerful chest and showcased the mouthwatering musculature of his tanned biceps. His long legs were encased in a pair of time-faded jeans and his face, when he turned her way, was still the most beautiful she’d ever seen.

Caught up in the sheer joy of soaking up the sight of a live and in person Finn, she jolted when a hand landed on her arm. Her balance impaired, she staggered. Big hands caught her, holding her steady. She blinked up into the eyes of Timmy Faulkner, the bane of her high school existence.

“Whoa there. Living up to your name tonight, Cara Cups?”

His sneering smile made her stomach churn, and her voice came out a husky whisper. “Leave me alone.”

His rough fingers, wrapped around her arms, made her skin crawl. She twisted in an effort to free herself. He let her struggle for a moment, leaning closer. Shuddering at the thought of bodily contact, she stumbled back a step. His eyes flashed with cruel intent as he released her with a quick shove.

Her arms cart-wheeled and the ground beneath her feet suddenly vanished. She landed with a cold splash. Moments later, she surfaced in the pool to find Timmy standing on the deck, bent at the waist, beside himself with laughter.

“Help her out!”

Meggy’s furious demand echoed through the now silent party. Two sets of male hands grasped Cara beneath the arms and wrenched her out of the water. Her rescuers set her on her feet, where she stood dripping and shivering.

“Are you okay, Cara?”

She couldn’t answer, despite the concern in Meggy’s voice. All around Brad Murphy’s back yard, avid faces stared at Cara. The party had come to a complete standstill. Even the music seemed to have quieted.

Horrified, her gaze flew to the corner of the patio where Finn stood. Sure enough, his blue laser eyes met hers as if he’d been waiting for her to turn his way.

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t escape his steady stare until, through the buzz in her ears, the first snickering exclamation rocked her back on her heels.

“Now, those are tits!”

She tore her gaze from Finn’s to glance down, then wanted to vanish into the brick deck at her feet. The thin material of her pretty, yellow sundress stuck to her body like filmy, transparent skin. Her lacy silk bra and panties may as well have been invisible for all the modesty they provided.

A strangled cry escaped, despite her clenched teeth, and she plucked at the clinging material. Seconds later, she gave up the useless effort. Desperate, she attempted to cover strategic spots with her hands, even as her mind registered the mocking comments of
Cara Cups
and
porn star
.

Meggy snapped into action. Shoving passed the still laughing Timmy, she knocked him into the pool on her way to the closest football player to demand his player’s jacket. When Cara’s furious friend returned to bundle her into the coat, Cara couldn’t stop herself from looking back at Finn.

No expression showed on his face, but his blue eyes blazed with the same undisguised lust as the boys surrounding him. Still and unblinking, his eyes burned in the midst of laughter, the jabbing of elbows, and crude observations.

While Meggy zipped Cara into the warm jacket like a hovering mother, a chill washed over her, having nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the layer of ice forming around her battered dignity. No stranger to taunting insults from the boys at school, she steeled her heart against the humiliating remarks buzzing around her like angry bees. Chin held high, she refused to let any of them, including Finn, see her cringe with embarrassment.

Instead, she let her eyes go frigid, and welcomed the death of each and every one of those butterflies she’d carried within her for years. Dragging her gaze from Finn’s, she swept the rest of the crowd with a disdainful glance, before turning and walking away. She’d left town two days later, and with the exception of the occasional, quick, turnaround visit, she hadn’t looked back.

The events of that day destroyed her childhood self. She’d done her best to put the memories behind her, but she couldn’t ever forget, neither her father’s betrayal,
nor
her humiliation beside that pool. And from the shadows in Finn’s eyes in Maive’s parlor, he hadn’t forgotten either.

Not that it mattered.
Some
good came of the events of that long ago day and night. She emerged from the experience with a new to-hell-with-them-all attitude and while she occasionally mourned the trusting girl she left behind, she no longer tolerated anyone’s crap.

In the past eight years, she’d faced down bigger obstacles than Finn the Fine, and triumphed. No longer a shy seventeen-year-old in a transparent dress, she would survive sharing rubber chicken and toasts with the town stud, even if it killed her.

“There’ll be swimming after the rehearsal. Don’t forget your suit.” Erin’s voice carried up the stairwell to Cara’s childhood bedroom in her mother’s house.

In a singsong voice, Cara called back. “I don’t think so.”

“But everyone will be swimming. You
have
to bring your suit.”

She leaned close to the mirror to attach a dangling earring, mumbling, “Not in this lifetime.” Makeup applied lightly, she wore her dark auburn hair down. It fell in riotous curls down her back. The long, floral, sheath dress was one of her favorites. She loved the dark green color, and the way the loose material muted the impact of her curves.

Grabbing her purse, she hurried downstairs.

Frustrated, yet gorgeous, Erin paced the hallway with her hands on her hips, her petite frame displayed to perfection in white linen drawstring pants and a fuchsia tank. A large tote hung from one shoulder. Her strawberry blonde hair was slicked back in a sophisticated knot, and her lips were pulled tight in a mulish frown.

“Don’t start.” Cara brushed by her.

Erin followed her outside, the heels of her sandals clicking on the walkway. “You always say that.”

“And you never listen. We’ll take my new car.” Cara stopped beside the dark Jeep Cherokee she’d purchased immediately upon landing back in Boston. She grinned across the hood and opened the door. “In case I need to escape.”

Erin slipped into the passenger seat with a huff. “I want you to have a good time tonight, Cara.”

With Daddy
and
Michael Finnegan in attendance? Fat chance!
But she wasn’t about to ruin her sister’s night, so she tried to reassure her.

“I will. I promise. I just don’t have any interest in frolicking around in a pool with a bunch of strangers.”

“They’re not strangers.” Erin turned in her seat, her eyes pleading. “The town’s not that big. You’ll know most of them.”

“
You’ll
know most of them. I know many of the people in town by sight, not because we were friendly. I spent the majority of my childhood buried in the art department or with my nose in a book. Besides, I’ve been gone a long time.”

“Exactly,” Erin persisted. “But you’re back now and I want you to be happy so you’ll stay. You could make a few new friends tonight, if you let yourself.”

Cara laughed at Erin’s earnest expression. Her outgoing sister barreled through life, collecting people the way other women collected shoes, and whenever possible, took steps to see everyone else did the same. However, her tactics never worked with Cara.

“Relax, mommy. I have plenty of friends and I’m home to stay.”

Erin’s forehead wrinkled with a sheepish smile. “I’m hovering again, aren’t I?”

Cara patted her hand where it rested on top of her tote. “Yes, you are, but I love you anyway.”

Her sister chattered her excitement while Cara inhaled a deep breath to relax. Though wired from this morning’s meeting with Maive, she was also tired, and the idea of seeing Daddy tonight had her more anxious than she wanted to admit. And running into Finn in Maive’s parlor hadn’t helped.

What the hell was an ex-pro quarterback with a Super Bowl ring, a recurring spot on the Sunday morning sports shows, and a half dozen lucrative marketing contracts doing fixing an old lady’s steps? A tool belt, for crying out loud! The man looked like a six-foot five Mr. June in a hunk-of-the-month calendar.

His thick, black hair was longer than she ever remembered it being, finger-combed back from his broad forehead. The rough shadow of his chiseled jaw, darkened with a day’s growth of stubble, only increased the piercing blue of his eyes. Much to her chagrin, his body hadn’t gone to pot since he retired from professional sports. He still sported the superbly muscled form that had always made her heart flutter and throb.

And what was she doing, noticing how well his jeans fit his tight butt when he leaned to brush a kiss on Maive’s forehead? God, she must have some kind of hormonal imbalance when it came to Michael Finnegan. She was as bad as the countless women, hanging all over him on the covers of those rag magazines.

And damn it, she knew better. She hadn’t talked to Daddy in years for precisely the same reason she shouldn’t be noticing the breadth of Finn’s shoulders, straining the material of his T-shirt. She’d witnessed firsthand the kind of man he was
and
what he thought of his wedding vows that night she bumped into him in Manhattan.

Well, she had become a master at ignoring big, hunky men. Hadn’t Charles told her so on more than one occasion? All she had to do was make it through the rehearsal dinner tonight, and the wedding tomorrow, and then she’d be home free.

A group of men were tossing a football on the lawn of Ryan’s parent’s sprawling ranch house when they arrived. She heaved a relieved sigh that Finn wasn’t among them. Ryan broke away from the impromptu game to jog over and pull his fiancée from the passenger side.

His light blond hair glinted in the afternoon sunlight and his hazel eyes gleamed with love as he smiled down into Erin’s beaming face. Sweeping her into his arms, he kissed her hungrily to the hoots and whistles of the other men.

Cara grabbed Erin’s bag and climbed from the vehicle as the men wandered over. Ducking her head, she busied herself by tucking her keys inside her purse. God, she hated this kind of thing, but remaining invisible in the face of strange men had never been possible and the need to do so was a behavior she’d fought long and hard to overcome. A few days back in Palmerton and she was reverting to form. That wouldn’t do. With a deep breath, she lifted her chin and rounded the hood of the Jeep.

Ryan dropped his arm from Erin’s shoulders to hug Cara in greeting. She’d worn her flats tonight and looked her sister’s six-foot fiancé in the eye. A wide grin spread across his handsome face.

“Welcome to the family.”

“Isn’t that my line?” Cara teased with a small smile.

A towering wall of males suddenly surrounded Erin, passing her from one to the next for sloppy kisses. When they began to pass her around for seconds, Ryan snatched her to his side.

“Get your own,” he growled in false affront.

Cara couldn’t help but smile, even as four sets of laughing male eyes turned to her. There was a time when, faced with looming males, she would have frozen in awkward fear. Instead, the smile remained on her face as Ryan made the introductions.

“This is Erin’s sister, Cara. Cara, my cousins. Mathew, Austin, Tony.” He jerked his thumb toward the youngest of the men. “And the shrimp there is Paul.”

“Hello.” Cara’s eyes moved over the group without pausing on anyone in particular. She’d been right. She knew all but the youngest by sight.

“I think I may
have
just found my own.” The tallest of the group captured her hand. Sandy blond hair capped a handsome face with faded blue eyes. The family resemblance was evident in his crooked smile.

“Get in line, Matt.”

Cara jumped and didn’t need to spin around to know who had spoken. Finn’s deep voice set off a ripple of goose flesh that caused the fine hair on her arms to stand on end, and several sensitive body parts to pucker.

Forget hormonal imbalance. Michael Finnegan was more like a virus. She tugged her hand, but Matt held her fingers firm.

“I saw her first.” Matt frowned.

“No, you didn’t.” Humor permeated Finn’s easy response.

Matt’s frown flattened into a scowl, and she took advantage of his loosening fingers to free her hand. She shot an annoyed frown at Erin.

“Quit it, you two. You’re embarrassing my sister.” Erin tucked her arm through Cara’s, tugging her toward the front door. “Sorry.” She rolled her eyes at Cara then glanced back at the group of men following them up the front lawn. “I’d forgotten the effect you have on the weaker sex.”

Cara laughed. “Lighten up, little sister. I’ve learned a thing or two over the years. They don’t bother me.” And they didn’t. Well, except for the viral Finn. Her laughter died.

Maybe she should begin taking antibiotics.

The mouthwatering smell of roasting beef scented the air of the back yard. Cries of greeting rose for the arriving bride. Erin introduced Cara to Ryan’s parents. A handsome couple, the Espizittos’ affection for her baby sister gained them Cara’s undying appreciation.

Erin then pointed out various Espizitto family members. Cara was surprised to find Maive holding court at one of the linen covered tables scattered about the expanse of lawn. Great Aunt Maive nodded in greeting.

Cara shook her head. Small towns. Nearly everyone was related somehow. And that explained why Finn was fixing Maive’s back step.

Mary O’Shea and Shan, Cara and Erin’s older sister, sat at a table beyond the patio with Shan’s two young boys. Cara wiggled her fingers at her nephews, taking the glass of wine someone handed her while Erin jabbered on about wedding details to one of the female guests.

As though sensing his presence, Cara turned to find Finn several feet away. He ambled by with a football tucked under one arm and a group of teen boys at his heels. His deep blue gaze swept from the top of her head to her painted toenails.