The Temptation of Sean MacNeill (16 page)

She looked up at him, her nose still red from crying and her eyes vulnerable. "Do you think so?"

There was an odd pressure in his chest. "Yeah, I think so. It might be tough at first, but I bet after a while it would be okay."

She set the kitten down. It wandered around, its tail a fuzzy question mark, until one of its siblings jumped it. Lindsey laughed. After a while her hand crept into Sean's.

"I think so, too," she said.

Deep satisfaction filled him. Deep uneasiness. He was committed now to more than a kitten.

They were still sitting hand in hand, watching the kittens play, when Rachel came to call them into dinner.

Chapter 13

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T
he porch light was on. Her mother's house was dark and quiet, white curtains unmoving behind unbroken windows. No flames shot from the roof, no sirens disturbed the night Rachel got out of the car with a sense of relief so sharp it felt like disappointment.

Sean's truck door slammed. He sauntered toward her with that gorgeous male walk of his, confident and aware inside his long-boned body.

Desire dried her mouth. Not now, Rachel thought. She shouldn't be having these lustful, inappropriate thoughts now. Maybe when all this was over… No. Not then, either. The realization sunk in her stomach like a stone. Never again. She had her children to worry about, and her mother, and while
Myra
might have no judgment at all, Rachel wasn't going to do anything to compromise the safe and stable life her babies needed.

"You didn't need to come back with me," she said. "I'm sure your brother would have liked you to spend the night."

"My brother would kick my butt if he knew the kind of danger you were in and I didn't come back with you. You shouldn't be alone in the house. You're not safe."

"And I'm so much safer with you sleeping in the garage?"

He sent her a long, level look, and her heart gave a quick, undisciplined thump. "I'm not sleeping in the garage tonight."

Heavens. Her face, her whole body, flushed and throbbed. She started clown the walk with short, quick steps. Remember the children, she instructed herself.

"What were you and Lindsey talking about before dinner?" she asked when they reached the porch.

He held out his hand for her keys. "Oh, I told her we could get a kitten."

"A kitten?" Rachel didn't know whether she was amused or appalled.

"Is that a problem? You don't like cats," he guessed.

"I love cats," she said automatically. "Doug was the one who… Anyway, my mother doesn't want a pet. You should have discussed this with me first."

He plucked the keys from her grasp. "Didn't have to. It's my cat. Mine and Lindsey's. It'll stay with me, in the garage."

She could live with him taking her keys. But a pet for her children… He had no right to decide on something so important.

Irritated, she said, "That's an awfully big commitment."

"I can afford cat food, Rachel."

"Not of money. Of your time."

He unlocked the front door. "I don't mind. Lindsey needs a pet."

"Lindsey needs a lot of things since her father died. She shouldn't expect you to provide them."

"Why not, if I'm willing?"

"Because you won't always be around."

"That's your assumption."

"I don't want to see her get hurt."

He switched on a lamp and regarded her steadily in the yellow glow. "Are we still talking about Lindsey here?"

She started to shake. He understood women too well. He saw her too clearly. Had he known she was falling in love with him before she realized it herself?

"I don't want to see her hurt," she repeated stubbornly. "After my father died, there were too many men who came and went in my mother's life. In my life. I don't want that for my daughter."

He tensed. "Any creeps?"

She loved him for his immediate protective response. "Was I abused, do you mean?" She shook her head. "No. Once, when I was fifteen … but Mama sent him packing."

He brushed his knuckle against her cheek. "I'm sorry."

The tender gesture brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them away. "It was all right. I was all right. In a way, the nice guys were worse. You give away enough little pieces of your heart, you don't have much left. You start to wonder what makes the good ones all go away. Is there something the matter with your mother? Or is it your fault that none of them ever stay?"

"Maybe they wanted to stay. Maybe they didn't have a choice."

"Or maybe they just didn't care."

"Bull. I cared."

Cared
. Past tense. Rachel frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Look, I'm not saying I'm Mr. Commitment. I've walked away from plenty of relationships. But the only time I ever walked out on a little girl it was because her mother took her away."

Her heart stopped. "You have a little girl?"

He raked his hair with his fingers. "I thought I did. For three months, twelve years ago."

She closed her eyes to do the math. "The high school girlfriend."

"Bingo."

"She got pregnant?"

"Right after we broke up. Only she shows up five months into it and tells me the baby's mine."

"What did you do?"

"What could I do? I quit school. Trina didn't want to get married. I pushed for it, but she said no."

"But you supported her." Rachel was sure of it. "Hell, yes. I had to. Her parents kicked her out when they found out about the baby. We got a little apartment in
Dorchester
, and I got a job working construction with my cousin Ross."

She thought of his strong, cohesive family, his solidly successful brothers. "That must have been hard," she said softly.

He shrugged. "It was no picnic. I had to be gone all day, and Trina cried all the time. Well, if we'd gotten along, we wouldn't have split up in the first place. But then Alyson was born, and it all seemed worthwhile."

"Alyson?" she prompted.

"My—Trina's daughter."

"You loved her."

"From the moment she was born. Trina had a rough time in delivery, so I took over getting up with the baby at night. She was so small." His voice was full of remembered wonder. "Small and perfect. She wasn't fussy. I'd go to pick her up and she'd look at me like I hung the moon, you know?"

Rachel knew. "What happened?"

"I came home from work one night—Alyson was three months old—and Trina tells me, all excited, that her baby's 'real father' has had a change of heart. Like all of a sudden, he wants them, so I'm supposed to disappear."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing," he said bleakly. "There wasn't a damn thing I could do. My name wasn't even on the birth certificate. Guess she was afraid she'd lose her meal ticket if she named the other guy, and she loved him enough not to name me. So instead of a father, Alyson had this big blank."

Rachel admired his willingness to shoulder his teenage responsibilities. Ached for his loss. And understood so much more about his reluctance to give his heart away.

"You were her father in every way that mattered."

Sean wanted to believe her. But even he wasn't that big a chump. "Right. The kid will never remember me."

"It's a child's first relationships that form the basis for the rest of her human attachments," she lectured in her best schoolteacher's voice. "It doesn't matter if she never knows your name. If you loved her, if you held her and talked to her and comforted her when she cried, you've given her a gift that will last the rest of her life."

She was bright-eyed and earnest. Wonderful. Wrong. He hated to bust her bubble, but she had to know how things were. How
he
was.

"I was just day labor, beautiful. That doesn't cut it, in construction or raising kids. In the long run, I wasn't there for her."

"Not in the long rim," she acknowledged. "But sometimes being there at that moment is the best you can do. Sometimes it's enough."

"Yeah?" He hitched his thumbs in his belt loops. "Was it enough for you?"

Her pretty mouth hung open. He wanted to kiss her.

"I…"

He smiled wryly. "I didn't think so."

She flushed. "Uncle Jed," she said suddenly.

"What?"

"Uncle Jed. He hung around the summer after Daddy died. I didn't want to like him. I wasn't liking anybody much that year. But when he and Mama were sitting on the porch, he used to get up and throw a softball with me. I only went along because I figured if he was busy with me he couldn't make eyes at Mama. But I made the softball team my freshman year because of Uncle Jed." Rachel smiled at him then, with her lips and her eyes, and her warmth stole his breath.

"Thank you," she said simply. "I'd forgotten that. So you see—" she caught his big hand, and cradled it in her slim, fine ones, and kissed his scarred knuckle "—temporary relationships can have their own advantages."

He couldn't concentrate with her mouth warm against his fingers. He turned his hand, cupping her jaw. "You think?" he asked hoarsely.

She smiled against his thumb. "I'm almost sure of it."

He rubbed the pad of his thumb across her soft bottom lip. Her eyes were wide. Her lip was slick. Her breath hitched. He leaned in slowly, enjoying the signs of her arousal, following the path of his thumb with his tongue before dipping inside. She was so damn fine: earnest, stubborn, loyal, real. All day long, watching her with her kids, his family, he'd admired and wanted her. He wanted her again. He wanted her now.

He wanted her for always.

He pushed the thought away as her hands, soft and urgent, skid up his back and closed on his shoulders. He didn't want to think. They were alone, and she was willing. They'd wasted enough time dissecting the past. Analyzing his feelings, for crying out loud. And tomorrow… No, he definitely didn't want to think about what she faced tomorrow.

He kissed her again, deeper, longer. Beguiled by each part of her, he kissed the curve of her jaw and the fragrant hollow below her ear and the slope of her breast through her sensible cotton shirt.

She gasped and wriggled against him. "I just want you to know that I'll understand when it's time for you to move on."

He pulled at the hem of her shirt. She was talking crazy talk. "I'm not going anywhere."

Beneath her cotton bra, her dark nipples were plainly visible. Expertly, he dispensed with hooks and slid the bra straps down her shoulders.

The doorbell rang. Rachel stiffened.

Sean swore. "Don't answer it."

She looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "What if it's—?"

"Bilotti? You think he's going to ring the doorbell before he torches the place?"

But she was already fumbling with the straps of her bra, grabbing for her shirt. Frustrated, Sean tucked his hands into his jeans' pockets and stood back while she opened the door.

Gowan. It figured.

The blond agent stood at attention in the circle of yellow porch light, a wide flat box in one hand.

"Anyone order a pizza?"

"Agent Gowan!" Rachel's hands went to her waist as if to make sure she was all tucked in. "Won't you come in?"

His poster-boy smile flickered. Phony. "Lee. Thanks. I tried calling earlier, but no one was home. So I thought I'd come over, make sure you were all right."

"Thank you. I—"

"We're fine," Sean said.

Gowan acknowledged him with a curt nod. "MacNeill." He turned back to Rachel. "Kids get off okay?"

"Yes. They're staying with my mother at Sean's brother's." Like a good hostess, she stepped back to admit him farther into the house. "Can I get you something? Coffee? Did you really bring a pizza?"

He lifted the box in his hands. "This? No. This is just a blind, in case Bilotti's watching the house. I wouldn't say no to coffee, though."

"Of course. Sean?"

At least she hadn't told him to get lost. "I'll have a cup. Thanks."

With quick, firm steps, she headed for the kitchen, leaving the two men facing off in the living room like gunslingers in a disputed town.

"What exactly are you doing here, MacNeill?" Sean bared his teeth in a smile that didn't fool either of them. "Moral support."

"You know she's vulnerable right now."

"That's why I'm here." To protect her, he meant, but he didn't say so. He wasn't explaining himself or his motives to this stuffed shirt.

Rachel came back with a steaming mug in each hand. She was too pale, Sean thought angrily, and the skin under her eyes looked bruised. "Coffee?"

"Thanks." Gowan took it and set it down,
untasted
, on
Myra
's walnut-veneer coffee table. "I have something for you, too."

He shifted a pile of ladies' magazines to accommodate the pizza box and then lifted the top.

Rachel covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, my goodness."

"That's a lot of money," Sean said.

The agent took out a folded brown Food Lion bag and snapped it open. The pop made her jump. He started to load the bills inside.

"It's all fake. Sixty-four thousand, you said?"

Rachel nodded. It looked real to her. Except that she'd never seen so much money in her life, not even in a Monopoly set. Fake. Funny money. Like in the movies, when the bad guys blew open the bank vault or handed over a suitcase of drug money. She shivered. Only for her, the amount was smaller and the danger was real.