Seven-Year Seduction (7 page)

Growing up, he'd been her hero. If she were being honest with herself, she'd have to admit he still was. An imperfect one, true, but still her hero.

Everybody was entitled to a few mistakes in their lifetime, weren't they?

Hmm.
Taking another slow sip of wine, she let her head fall back against the couch, balancing the glass on her upper thigh. She must really be feeling relaxed if she was thinking about forgiving him.

But she didn't know if she was ready to be
that
charitable just yet. It was enough that she was even allowing it as an option. She considered that growth—and quite enough growth for one night. After all, Rome wasn't built in a day, and seven-year-old emotional wounds couldn't be healed that quickly, either.

“Do you ever wonder,” Connor said in a low murmur, breaking into her thoughts, “what might have happened if we hadn't grown up together? If we'd met each other back then as complete strangers?”

She didn't need him to identify what he meant by “back then.” He was talking about that night again.

Surprisingly, her stomach didn't clutch and her temperature didn't begin to rise. Her muscles did tense, but she took another small drink of wine and mentally forced herself to relax.

He obviously needed to talk about it—he'd certainly
cornered her often enough—but she had never been in a frame of mind to listen before. She wasn't sure how long she could listen now, either, but at least she was willing to give it a shot.

“I'm not sure I know what you mean,” she said softly, rolling her head on the sofa cushion to look at him.

“I've always thought of you as my sister, Beth. You were Nick's sister by blood, but we grew up together, your family practically adopted me, so it felt like you were my sister, too.”

His brandy brown eyes darkened, the corners crinkling slightly as he offered a tight smile. “But we both know I didn't treat you like a sister that night after the football game, in the cab of my truck. I've been wanting to apologize for that for years.”

Her heart squeezed for a moment and the old anger and pain tried to break through. She tamped it down, determined not to backslide into her previous attitude and mind-set.

“Why would you apologize? You weren't in the truck by yourself.”

“I took advantage of you,” he pushed on, glossing over any responsibility she might take for her own actions. “You were young and confused…and a virgin. I was older and more experienced, I should have stopped things before they got out of hand.”

With a harsh laugh, she said, “You can get down off the cross now, Connor, no one's blaming you for taking my virginity. I wouldn't have been in your truck if I hadn't wanted to be, and I wouldn't have had sex with you if I hadn't wanted to, either.”

From the corner of her eyes, she saw his thumb rubbing absently up and down the stem of his wineglass.

“That still doesn't make it right,” he told her. “Your parents have always treated me like one of their own. They trusted me to take care of you, protect you…not to take advantage of you.”

“For the last time, you didn't take advantage of me.”

With all the negative thoughts she'd had toward him over the years, that had never been one of them.

“Connor,” she said in a near whisper, “from the time I turned thirteen, I had a huge crush on you.”

It cost her to admit it, but if he'd been living with this guilt for seven years, he deserved to know the truth. Granted, a part of her wanted him to feel guilty, but about other things. About not calling her after their night together. About not making a point of finding out if there were repercussions—such as an unplanned pregnancy—involved.

But this conversation, this delicate peace they seemed to have developed, wasn't about that, it was about setting him straight on what he
was
feeling guilty over.

“I don't know how you could have missed it,” she continued with a light laugh. “I was positively cow-eyed over you. I followed you and Nick around like a puppy, wrote ‘Mrs. Connor Riordan' in my notebooks a thousand times and did everything I could think of to catch your attention. I
wanted
to be with you that night. If anything, I orchestrated it so that the situation would play out exactly as it did.”

He was sitting up on the sofa now, his arms resting
on his denim-clad thighs, staring at her. She straightened under his intense gaze, resisting the need to squirm with embarrassment at her admission.

At least he wasn't laughing at her. She wasn't sure she'd have been able to bear that.

But Connor looked anything but amused by her confession. His eyes were blazing, warming her from head to toe with something other than the flush of humiliation.

“I never knew,” he said finally, his voice rasping like velvet over sandpaper.

Blowing out a breath, he ran the splayed fingers of one hand through his short, dirty-blond hair. “And I wish to hell I had, because I felt the same damn way.”

Shock and disbelief slammed into her like a bolt of lightning. For a moment, she felt dizzy, almost as though she were floating outside of her body.

This wasn't happening, not really. She was still asleep in the tub upstairs, and her dream had segued from memories of the past into some sordid mix of her juvenile hopes and her present circumstances with Connor.

But then he started speaking again, and even though the words roared in her ears, she could hear them, make out what he was saying.

“I watched you grow up and kept telling myself that you were as much as my sister. Your family was my family…I had no business being attracted to you.” He paused to take a deep breath. “But I was. God knows I fought it, and I never would have admitted to it, not even under penalty of death, but there it was. Every
time you walked down the hall at school or into a classroom. Every time I came over to see your brother and you were bopping around in sweatpants and a skimpy little tank top, I just about swallowed my tongue.

“And then that night after the football game, I couldn't seem to help myself. You were so beautiful, and I'd been wanting you for so long.”

All these years, she thought she'd thrown herself at him and he'd only slept with her because…well, he was a man and she'd been available. But the whole time she had a crush on him, he'd been interested in her, too? It was too much to absorb all at once.

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind and her vision. “I can't believe this,” she murmured.

He shifted closer to her on the sofa. Their legs touched, the denim of his jeans brushing against her bare skin. He reached out with one hand and covered her thigh just below the hem of her nightie, his thumb drawing circles on the smooth, sensitive flesh of her inner knee.

“I know. All this time we've felt the same way about each other without even realizing it.”

He paused for a moment, his gaze zeroing in on her lips, which suddenly felt so dry, she darted her tongue out to moisten them.

“You know what else?” he asked in a low tone that slid down her spine like warm honey as he leaned in even closer. “I still do…want you.”

A
s soon as their mouths touched, the years melted away and every fantasy he'd ever had that revolved around Beth flooded his mind.

Her lips were warm beneath his, closed at first, and then parting until their tongues touched. She tasted of the claret they'd been drinking—and something else, something uniquely Beth.

His fingertips slid beneath the hem of her short, sexy nightgown, caressing the silken smoothness of her legs and traveling higher. She seemed as involved in the kiss as he was, her hands cupping the back of his head, tangling in his hair.

With a groan, he pressed her back against the sofa,
one arm around her waist to keep her flush with his chest and lower body.

She smelled so good. Fresh from her bath, with her hair still damp in places and falling down her back in a loose, carefree tangle. He could feel the budding of her nipples through the layers of fabric separating their bodies, and he wanted them in his mouth, against his palms.

He abandoned her mouth, only to pay homage to her chin, her jawline, the pouty little lobe of her ear. She arched into him, a purr of pleasure rumbling low in her throat. And then she lifted one leg to hug his hips and the desire already pumping through his veins like a drug shot straight to his groin.

He ground against her, wishing they were naked already so he could be inside her at that very moment. His lips dragged down the column of her neck, the tip of his tongue darting out to trace the line of her collarbone.

From there, he kissed his way to her breast, licking the pearled tip through the slinky material covering her. A wet patch began to grow and he fed it, opening his mouth wider, suckling her until she moaned and held his head in place.

Power surged, lust arcing between them so strongly, he felt almost light-headed. He wanted her—more than he could remember ever wanting another woman. Possibly more than he'd wanted her even back in high school.

Reaching down, he tugged at the bottom of her nightie and dragged the yellow fabric to her waist. His knuckles brushed the sides of her high-cut panties and he started to sweat.

He had to have her. Now, before she changed her
mind or he admitted all the reasons they shouldn't be together.

Their hands went for the waistband of his jeans at the same time. Eyes meeting, chests heaving, they both gave a breathless chuckle.

His pants opened with a snap and her hand was on the zipper covering his straining erection when the doorbell rang.

His heart stuttered to a stop and then sank as her fingers stilled at their task. For a split second, he considered grabbing her up and kissing her silly, until she forgot about the door, forgot about being interrupted, forgot even her own name.

But already the passion was clearing from her gaze, replaced by stark reality. She didn't look horrified, exactly, but she also didn't look ready to roll to the floor and finish what they'd started.

The doorbell buzzed again.

“I think that's the pizza,” she said finally, her voice husky with unspent desire.

“Yeah.” He held her gaze for another minute, concentrating on his breathing and trying to get some of the blood that had taken up residence south of the border back to his brain.

His chin dropped to his chest when the delivery guy switched from leaning on the bell to pounding on the door frame.

“Coming,” he barked, pushing to his feet and crossing the living room. He tugged at the front of his jeans, attempting to alleviate the pressure behind his fly and then dug in his hip pocket for his wallet.

As soon as he opened the door, a gangly teenage boy in a Pizza Palace T-shirt shoved the flat white box at him and snapped out the price. Connor threw in an extra five for the kid's trouble before kicking the door closed with the toe of his boot.

When he turned, Beth was off the couch, arranging her short, shimmery robe to cover the wet spots his mouth had made on her bodice. The memory slugged him in the gut and sent the air from his lungs with a whoosh.

If he had his way, he'd toss the pizza on the kitchen table, stalk back across the living room and sweep her off her feet so they could pick up where they'd left off. He wouldn't give her time to think or breathe or protest.

But Beth didn't look as if she was ready or willing to return to that place of passion where they'd just been.

He sighed. Too bad. He'd thought they were making progress.

“Pizza smells good,” he said, hoping to break the tension growing between them. “Wanna get some plates?”

“Sure.” The arms that had been hugging her waist fell to her sides as she headed for the kitchen from the opposite direction.

He wasn't offended by her decision to avoid brushing past him. He understood her need for distance, even if he didn't particularly like it.

Crossing back to the sofa, he set the box on the long rectangular coffee table and took a seat to pop open the
lid. A second later, Beth sat down beside him, two dinner plates and a stack of napkins in hand.

He served up two slices on each plate, then refilled their wineglasses. Beth accepted the pizza he offered, balancing it on her knees while her eyes remained downcast.

“Maybe I should take mine up to my room,” she murmured, brushing a lock of hair behind one ear. “You could finish watching your television show or whatever.”

She wouldn't look at him, and Connor nearly cursed.

Where had the hot, frantic woman from only moments ago gone? Or even the prickly, sharp-tongued one from earlier in the day?

“No, don't do that,” he said, brushing his hand down the length of her arm. His touch didn't linger, and he was relieved that she didn't stiffen up on him. “Stay here. We'll stick in a DVD and stuff ourselves silly.”

At first, she didn't answer him. Then she raised her head, met his eyes and curled her lips in a small smile. “All right. But I get to pick the film.”

He threw himself against the back of the couch, clutching his chest and giving an exaggerated groan. “Oh, no. Not some girlie movie.”

Her grin widened. “Maybe.”

She took a bite off the tip of her pizza slice, then got up and sauntered to the entertainment center on the other side of the room.

Connor watched her go, admiring the sway of her bottom and the long, pale line of her legs. She looked like a million bucks, and in that sunny-colored night
gown, good enough to eat. Next to her, the pizza he'd been so hungry for only an hour before might as well have been cardboard.

After shuffling around in the cupboard, she placed a disc in the player on top of the television, then made her way back to the sofa. She kept her distance this time, leaving one full cushion between them before retrieving her glass of wine and pressing Play on the remote control.

“Should I be worried?” he asked around a mouthful of cheese and crust and assorted toppings.

Her shoulder lifted and fell, but her eyes never left the television screen. “Depends.”

The opening credits began to play, along with music he recognized. He grinned as he realized she'd chosen one of his favorites…Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock trying to stay alive on a speeding bus. It was an action/adventure flick, but could probably also be categorized as a romance.

“A woman after my own heart,” he told her, taking an even bigger bite of pizza.

“I'm a Curtis,” she retorted, “so of course I have exceptional taste.”

“Uh-huh. I'm just glad I didn't let you order the pizza. We might have ended up with some horrible tofu-and-pineapple concoction.”

“Don't scoff. Tofu is good for you.”

“I'll stick with my meat and vegetables, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” She picked at a green pepper melted into the cheese of what was left of her first slice. “You know, I'm going to have to run ten miles tomorrow to burn this off.”

Even as she said it, she lifted the crust to her lips, so he knew she must not be too concerned.

“Maybe I'll go with you.” He blurted it out before he had a chance to rethink the idea, but when she shot him a look of pure disbelief, he almost wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

So he didn't make a habit of jogging. He worked hard on a daily basis, building and renovating houses—carrying lumber, shingles, climbing ladders… And he stopped at the gym once in a while, though probably not as often as he should. No, he didn't tend to put on shorts and sneakers and go running around the neighborhood—but for Beth, he'd be willing to give it a try.

“What?” he asked, feigning insult. “You don't think I can run?”

“Oh, I'm sure you can run. Away from a bear. Toward a cold beer. But for exercise?” She laughed, and then covered her mouth with a napkin when she started to choke. “No, I'm sorry, I can't picture that.”

He quirked a brow, staring hard until her gaze faltered. “Fine. I'll just have to prove it to you. What time do you want to go in the morning?”

“Six.”

That wasn't even particularly early for him. He was up before that lots of mornings in order to get to job sites on time.

“Six it is.”

She eyed him warily over the rim of her wineglass. “You're really going through with this, huh?”

“Just see if you can keep up.”

 

Beth was trying hard not to laugh. She concentrated on her pace and her breathing, struggling not to burst a lung with the effort to hide her amusement.

He was hanging in there, she'd give him that.

He'd been up bright and early this morning, already dressed in shorts and a T-shirt when she'd come downstairs. The sneakers were Nick's, found in a hall closet, he told her, but they seemed to fit well enough. Connor and Nick had always been about the same size, sharing clothes and shoes and everything else.

They'd grabbed bottles of water before heading out, then started at a slow trot from the curb. It was still dusky outside, with just a hint of sunrise peeking through on the bluish purple horizon.

And it was chilly. That odd time of year when true winter has passed, but spring hadn't quite made its birds-and-flowers appearance yet. The ground was wet, the air chilly, the sky studded with clouds.

At first, Connor did great. He even seemed to be doing better than she was, since she was used to running on a state-of-the-art treadmill at the gym with her headset to keep her company instead of an unswept, leaf- and gravel-strewn sidewalk with the sounds of dogs barking and car doors slamming as neighbors left for work.

Jogging side by side, they chatted about the weather—typical for central Ohio at this time of year, but a far cry from the sunny California she was used to—and some of the items they needed to pick up at the hardware store later that day to start work on the nursery.

Then she'd kicked it up a notch, increasing her pace and working her arms for the added burn. She gave him credit for his effort, but it wasn't long before he fell behind and started heaving for breath.

Not that he was out of shape. Far from it, judging by his firm thighs and calves, and the rippling muscles outlined beneath his sweat-dampened T-shirt. He was simply used to a different kind of exercise—hauling and sawing and hammering.

She pictured him in his usual uniform of faded jeans and open flannel shirt, doing what he did best amidst sawhorses and power tools, and nearly lost her footing.

Righting herself, she glanced at Connor from her peripheral vision and decided he'd had enough. They'd been out for at least an hour, and stubborn as he was, he would probably keep running until it killed him, just to prove a point.

She slowed a bit, waiting for him to catch up as the house came into view. It was lighter now, though still overcast, with a hint of rain in the air. Likely that storm the lady at the airline had warned her about…though she still thought she should have been able to get a flight out before it hit.

“You doing okay?” she asked, knowing full well what his answer would be.

“Oh, yeah,” he huffed, beads of sweat rolling down his face. “I could keep running like this all day.”

Sure he could.
She turned her head so he wouldn't see her grin.

“That's great,” she said, “but I think we've had enough for today. With any luck, we've burned off at
least one slice of pizza and one glass of wine from last night.”

They stopped at the walk to her brother's house. She continued to jog in place until her heart rate slowed while Connor bent at the waist, hands on his knees as he fought to fill his lungs with oxygen.

Her breathing was labored, too, but she was used to it. She loved it, actually, found it exhilarating.

“I say we get cleaned up and go into town.”

Part of the reason she'd wanted to go running was to offset some of her anxiety about not only spending the day shopping and working with Connor, but about buying baby things and concentrating on designing a nursery.

She knew it would be difficult, was already bracing herself for the pain. Surprisingly, though, she now felt more prepared for the task. Not exactly looking forward to it, but stronger and better able to handle whatever emotions the day stirred up.

“Sounds good. Do you want first dibs on the shower?”

He straightened, wiping his forehead with the tail of his shirt, giving her a clear glimpse of those tight, well-defined abdominals she'd fantasized about earlier. It was enough to make a girl drool.

She took a long swig of water to wet her parched throat, wiping the corners of her mouth afterward, just in case.

“No, you go ahead.”

He looked as if he needed it more. And besides, she could use a few minutes alone before getting undressed
and stepping into the shower. If she went upstairs now, she would have to turn the spray to full cold, but if she waited a while, she might be able to go with moderate to lukewarm.

“You sure?”

She nodded, starting up the front steps and fitting the key in the lock.