Unguarded (19 page)

S
HAWN WALKED AROUND
his backyard, staring at all the carnival games set up and wondering if today was going to be the day he finally saw Rhiannon. It had been eleven days since she'd left him sleeping on the sofa in her apartment, six days since he'd seen or spoken to her.

He'd done everything he could to talk to her—had staked out her condo, had shown up at her workplace, had called and emailed and sent flowers. All to no avail. She'd cut him completely out of her life and without so much as an explanation.

Oh, he supposed the voicemail she'd left him on the third day counted, in her mind, as an explanation, but it sure as hell didn't count that way for him.
I'm sorry. I'm not ready to do this after all.
But ten words didn't exactly provide the means for a dialogue.

That was Rhiannon for you. Once she made up her mind, there was no changing it—or at least, that's what Logan had told him when he'd tried again and again to get into her office to see her.

He didn't believe that, couldn't believe it. He loved her too much to just give up on them because Rhiannon was scared. He'd find a way to fix things between them. He had to, because spending the rest of his life without her didn't bear thinking about.

He'd been waiting for this morning for what seemed like forever, had planned on cornering Rhiannon when she got here to oversee the set-up and make her talk to him. She must have known, because she'd sent Logan instead. Her boss had promised him that Rhiannon was going to be at the party later that afternoon, but the look on his face told Shawn all he needed—and didn't want—to know.

Rhiannon had closed herself off completely and Logan didn't think there was a chance in hell that Shawn could reach her.

He glanced at his watch. It was one-thirty—two hours before the first guests were set to arrive and fifteen minutes after Rhiannon was supposed to be there. There was still no sign of her. Not that he was surprised. It would be just like her to try to sweep in five minutes before the guests were due and then claim to be too busy to talk.

Well, he wasn't putting up with it any longer. He felt like he'd done nothing these past few weeks besides wait for Rhiannon. He'd waited for her to see him. Waited for her to want him. And now he was waiting again—for a chance to convince her to give them one more try.

Too bad he didn't have a clue how to go about doing that.

He picked up a beanbag, threw it as hard as he could into the giant shark's mouth in front of him. It hit with a satisfying thump and before he knew it, he'd picked up all of the remaining beanbags and was firing them at the shark, one right after the other. Some made it in the mouth, some hit outside, but it didn't matter. It was the act of throwing something—of doing something besides impotently waiting—that he'd been looking for.

“Shawn.”

At first, he thought he had imagined Rhiannon's voice, but when he turned toward it, there she was, dressed in a long-sleeved, scarlet blouse and a pair of skintight jeans that showed off her incredible legs. Her hair was up today, but the wind had coaxed a few strands into tumbling down around her face and shoulders. She looked beautiful and sexy and so good that he could barely believe she was real.

“The caterers are setting up in your kitchen,” she said. “I hope you don't mind that I let them in.”

He had a speech planned, one he'd worked on for days as he'd tried to figure out a way to get her to listen to him. He opened his mouth, prepared to start with it, but what came out instead was, “That's
it?
After eleven days of pretending I don't exist, all you have to say to me is that the caterers are in my kitchen? Have you lost your mind?”

“Can we talk about this later? I've got party details—”

“Screw the party.” He stormed across the lawn at her, grabbed her elbow in a none-too-gentle grip and all but dragged her into the house and down the hall to his bedroom.

“I guess there's no chance we can be reasonable about his, hmm?” She looked at him like he was a child in the middle of a temper tantrum. Her cool only ratcheted his anger up a notch.

“If I hadn't been reasonable, I would have stormed into your office and dragged you out by the hair days ago.”

“Logan—”

“Screw Logan.”

“That seems to be your answer to everything to day.”

“Damn it, Rhiannon. Why would you do that to me? To us?”

“It's for the best. Things were getting out of hand and I thought a clean break would make them easier.”

“Out of hand? I love you and you just cut me off at the knees like I was nothing. Like the way I feel about you is nothing.”

“That's not true. You don't—”

“Don't tell me how I feel. You seem to think that you can control everything here, that you get to make all the choices for both of us. But that's not how this is going to work. We're in a relationship whether you like it or not, and I am not going to be frozen out because you're too scared to try to make it work.”

“That's not what happened.” The words burst from her and he watched, fascinated, as her mask cracked right down the middle. Her face crumpled and she turned away.

He followed her, unwilling to let her get her composure back. “Well, if that's not how it was, tell me, please. How was it?”

When she turned to him this time, it was the Rhiannon he knew and loved staring back at him. “I'm bad for you.”

He waited for her to say more, and when she didn't, he asked, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You didn't see yourself after that night—you looked terrible. Exhausted, strung out, in pain. I couldn't stand it.”

“The woman I loved had just told me that she had
been brutally raped. How the hell was I supposed to look—I was devastated.”

“I dragged you into my problems, wrapped you up in them when we had promised to keep things casual. How could I ask you to stay with me when all I kept doing was hurting you?”

“I'm a big boy, Rhiannon. I could have left anytime I wanted.”

“But you wouldn't. You're too nice for your own good.”

He barked out a laugh. “Don't count on that, baby. I've spent years dodging around women and their issues, refusing to be drawn in beyond the most casual connection. I'll be the first to admit Cynthia did a number on me and I'm not proud of how I handled my subsequent relationships with women, but I'm not going to sugarcoat it, either. I never stuck around for the rough stuff.”

“Bull. You think I don't know you? You think I don't know what a decent person you are? You never once tried to duck out on me, no matter how freaked out I was.”

“You're not listening to me, Rhiannon. I stayed because I couldn't leave. I took one look at your crazy hair and that dimple of yours and I fell. Hard. I love you and your neuroses. You can push me as hard as you want and it won't matter. I'm not going anywhere.”

“I don't want to be another Cynthia. I don't want you having nightmares about me years from now because you couldn't help me. Because I couldn't be helped.”

“Cynthia was a manic-depressive who wouldn't stay on her medication and rejected everything the doctors and I did to help her. You are
nothing
like Cynthia.”

“You don't know what you're talking about—”

“No, you're the one who doesn't know what she's talking about. I loved Cynthia and I watched her self-destruct.”

“And now you say you love me and I'm about to do the very same thing.”

“Honey, you're so far from self-destruction that you wouldn't recognize it if it smacked you in the face. You're strong and you're such a fighter. You're on the brink of reclaiming everything—your life, your sexuality, your heart. Don't sell yourself short because you're afraid of hurting me.”

“But you can't love me!” she wailed.

“Why not?”

“Because I'm a mess. You saw what I did to you that last night—”

“What did you do to me, besides share the most personal, private side of you? What did you do except let me love you?”

“But I didn't.”

“You did.” He reached for her, pulled her into his arms. This time she didn't fight him. “And you may be a mess, but you're my mess. And I'm not letting you go. No matter how hard you push, I'm just going to push back until you're willing to accept how I feel about you.”

She buried her face in the curve of his neck. “God, Shawn, I love you so much. I don't want to hurt you anymore.”

“What did you say?” This time he was the one who pulled away so that he could get a good look at her face.

“I don't want to hurt you—”

“Not that. The other.”

There were tears rolling down her face, but she was smiling. “Oh, you mean the part about me loving you.”

“Say it,” he growled. “Look me in the eye and say it to me again.”

“I love you, Shawn. I think I've always loved you. But I'm scared.”

“Don't be scared, baby. I'm right here.”

“But that's what I'm scared of. I don't want to hurt you.”

“Rhiannon, sweetheart, the only thing you've done to hurt me is to cut me out of your life. As for the rest, I feel privileged to be along for the ride.”

It was her turn to study him, her turn to look deep into his eyes and see the truth. When she did, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his lips down to hers.

He kissed her, savoring the feel of her against him. Reveling in the fact that she was once again back where she belonged. When he could take the sensual tension between them no longer, however, he pulled away and slowly stripped off his T-shirt.

“Shawn?” She reached for him, the look in her eyes so sweetly uncertain that a part of him wanted to tell her they could wait forever. That he didn't need the physical side of their relationship until she was ready for it.

But he'd learned from the last time, knew now just how important it was for her to know that he was satisfied with her. Until he made love to her she would never feel secure, never feel like she could give him what he needed.

She was crazy, her thinking completely wrong, but he knew her well enough to know that on this, there would be no changing her mind.

But instead of explaining, he simply said, “Trust me, Rhiannon,” then brushed his lips over her forehead, her eyes. He slid them down the sharp angles of her cheeks to the smooth line of her jaw. Nibbled at that strong, delicious jaw for a while, delighting in the small, broken breaths that eased from her.

When he'd exhausted the possibilities on her glorious, giving face, he slipped lower. Using his lips and tongue softly—so softly—he traced the elegant curve of her neck. Skimmed slowly over the hollows of her collarbone. Nuzzled his way between breasts. Nudged her blouse up and over her head. Divested her of her bra. Then delivered one long, slow lick from her navel to her breastbone.

Rhiannon gasped, arched, while her hands moved restlessly over his shoulders and back. “Shh,” he whispered, unbuttoning her jeans and easing them down her legs.

She was wearing panties as soft and pink as she was. Cut high in the hips, they rode low over her flat belly and he grinned as he slipped his tongue under the waistband.

She jerked, trembled, clutching at his hair to hold him in place.

But he would have none of it. He drew back so that he could look up at her. “You're in control here, Rhiannon. You tell me what you want and how much. And no matter what's happening, if you want me to stop, you tell me and I'll stop.”

“I know it's you, Shawn, and I know you won't hurt me. Make love to me. Please.”

Moving out from beneath her grasping hands, he stood and stripped off his clothes in a few quick movements. Then he was sinking onto the bed with her, pulling her into the circle of his arms. Relishing the feel of this woman he loved more than he'd ever loved anyone pressed so tightly against him.

Rhiannon wrapped her arms around Shawn, holding him as tightly against her as she could manage. It felt so right to be here with him, to cradle his head against her breast as her body yearned for his. She prayed with everything inside of her that she wouldn't mess it up, that she wouldn't end up turning him away again.

“Shawn, I'm sor—”

He cut her words off with a kiss, so tender, so exquisite that it brought a new tightness to the lump at the back of her throat. “Don't,” he whispered, his wicked blue eyes calmer than she'd ever seen them.

Leaning her head to the side, eyes still locked with his, she offered him her mouth again. He took it and the sudden pressure of his lips on hers was like finding herself again—sweet, warm and so familiar that it brought tears to her eyes.

A groan rumbled low in his chest and she grinned—thrilled at how easily she could make this strong, powerful man want her. Equally excited about how quickly he could do the same to her.

His hands weren't steady as they shimmied her panties down her legs, but they were capable. Everywhere they touched ignited a small fire within her, every skim of his fingers was a little zing adding to the emotions already pulsing within her.

“You're beautiful,” he murmured as he caressed her ankle with tender lips, his lips running along her scars with a tenderness and appreciation that couldn't be faked.

She wanted to be. For him, she wanted to be everything. Sliding her hands down his spine, she toyed with the rigid muscles under her hands. So strong, so capable, so ready to take on her problems as his own. What had she ever done to deserve him?

She started to tell him how she felt, but he silenced the words with another kiss. And then he was rolling across the bed, spinning with her, lifting her above him as his mouth swept over the curve of her breast.

He settled her astride him gently, her knees on either side of his hips. “You're in control, Rhiannon. You take as much or as little of me as you want.”