Читать книгу The Secret Son's Homecoming - Helen Lacey - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Connie wanted to snatch the words back the moment they left her mouth. Having a heart-to-heart with Jonah wasn’t in her Sunday plans. Or any plans. But somehow, he got her talking. She wasn’t sure why. Connie rarely talked about herself, to anyone. She’d endured enough talk a decade ago. Now she wanted obscurity. She wanted to stay in the shadows and avoid notoriety and gossip. And she certainly didn’t want Jonah knowing anything about her past.

“What does that mean?” he asked quickly, frowning.

She shrugged, pushed off the memory that threatened to climb over her skin and moved a few things around on her desk. They had saved her, but it wasn’t a story she wanted to tell. It was so long ago—rehashing the hurt and pain from those days was pointless. She’d made the commitment to move on with her life and not to look backward. “Nothing. I was just speaking metaphorically.”

One dark brow came up. “Really?”

“I had some family stuff going on when I was younger. My parents had left town again and—”

“Again?” he queried, interrupting her.

“It’s a long story,” she replied. “Anyway, my grandfather had passed away, but I wanted to stay with my grandmother and I needed a job, so your dad gave me a chance here at the hotel. I’m grateful for that because it meant I could stay here and look after her.”

“I thought you lived alone with your four dogs and your goldfish.”

“I do,” she replied, her uneasiness increasing, because she’d flown under the radar for so long it had been forever since she’d shared something personal about herself with anyone. And she’d never expected it to be with Jonah Rickard! And she was surprised that he remembered her comment about the dogs and goldfish. People didn’t generally remember things about her—it was Connie who did the remembering. “Nan passed away three years ago.”

His gaze darkened. “I’m sorry.”

Connie shrugged one shoulder. “She was ill for a while, so her passing was a blessing.”

“And your parents?”

“They don’t live in Cedar River,” she said as casually as she could, the usual ache she experienced when she thought of her parents quickly settling behind her rib cage. She’d stopped being angry with them a long time ago—now she felt only sadness and a heavy lingering regret that caught up with her on birthdays and around the holidays.

“I mean, why did they leave town?”

Connie shrugged. “For their work,” she said and didn’t elaborate.

“And you really like this town?” he asked. “I mean, that’s why you stayed when your parents left?”

“I love Cedar River. It’s my home.”

“So you’ll probably marry some local cowboy and settle down and have a bunch of kids?”

Connie looked at him. Damn, he was gorgeous. In dark jeans, a black shirt that stretched across his shoulders and a jacket she suspected had cost more than she made in a month, he was utterly and irrevocably the sexiest man she had ever met. And she wanted him. She wanted him so much that she’d almost had him...until the fear set in. Until her past rushed back to haunt her in ice-cold fashion. She wasn’t sure why it had happened with Jonah—since he had somehow pushed her libido into overdrive from the first moment she’d clapped eyes on him. She’d hoped that her desire and the crazy chemistry between them would be enough to push past the barriers she’d erected around herself. Hoped...and failed. Not even her aching need for him had been enough. Instead, she’d panicked and run, denying her body the experience and release it craved.

“I’m not sure if I’ll ever get married. But I believe in it,” she said and shrugged. “You?”

“From what I’ve seen, marriage generally ends in divorce. So why bother?”

“Not all marriages end up that way,” she offered. “Look at—”

“J.D. and Gwen?” he said, cutting her off. “Kieran and his ex-wife? Shall I go on?”

“They’re bad examples,” she said and rested her hips on the edge of her desk. “And J.D. and Gwen’s marriage wasn’t a complete disaster. They had thirty-five years together.”

“Based on a lie,” he said bitterly. “No, thanks.”

Connie’s heart rate increased. Talking about marriage got her thinking—because in her heart, she did want all that marriage offered: commitment, trust, the complete connection to another human being. But she often wondered if she’d ever have the courage for it. Or if she’d ever meet someone who would understand her fragile hold on trust and how achingly vulnerable she sometimes felt.

“Well, Kieran is happy now,” she insisted. “And Liam and Kayla are desperately in love with one another. So obviously marriage does work...you just have to pick the right person.”

“She’s right,” a deep voice said from across the room. “You do.”

Liam.

He’d been her rock for a decade. Her friend and confidant as well as her boss, and she trusted him completely. Seeing him happy with Kayla and their baby son, Jack, made her feel all fuzzy inside. Liam deserved to be happy, and she was honored to call him her friend. He was the big brother she’d never had—the family she’d needed at the most desperate time in her life. If it weren’t for Liam and J.D., Connie wasn’t sure she would be as emotionally healthy as she was.

“If marriage is so great, why are you working on a Sunday?” Jonah asked cynically.

Liam sauntered across the room and grinned. “Because my pain-in-the-ass little brother is heading back to Portland tomorrow and we have some plans to go over.”

Connie smiled and glanced toward Jonah. Even with his tightly clenched jaw and irritated expression, he was still the most handsome man she’d ever known. She looked for some level of affection between him and his brother but saw only disdain and impatience. And she felt sad for him, because the O’Sullivans had so much to offer and Jonah was too stubborn to see it.

She watched as the two men headed into Liam’s office and heard them talking about the plans for the museum extension, and then she relaxed a little. Jonah was highly regarded in his field. An award-winning architect who’d designed buildings right along the West Coast, he was the youngest person to have ever made partner at Walters, Orsini & Rickard, a prestigious firm in Portland. J.D. had bragged about his many achievements countless times in the previous ten months, like any proud father would.

Twenty minutes later they were back in the main office. Liam passed her the folder and his electronic tablet and gave her a few instructions.

“I’ll get Connie to email the details to you this week and you can start working up some plans,” Liam said and nodded. “Okay?”

“Sure,” Jonah replied. “No problem.”

“Ah, Connie,” Liam said and checked his watch. “If you can wait about half an hour, I’ll go and speak with the sous chef and then drop you at home.”

Before she had a chance to reply, Jonah spoke. “Don’t you have a car?”

“It’s in the shop,” she supplied. “I can’t pick it up until tomorrow. And Sean is using the hotel corporate car.”

She noticed Jonah frown and shake his head slightly.

“I’ll take her home,” he said quietly to his brother and then met her gaze. “That way you won’t have to hang around here.”

Doormat.

The unsaid word hung in the air between them. Irritation snaked up her spine and she smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You won’t be,” he said and pulled keys from his pocket. “Let’s go.”

Connie ignored Liam’s curious expression and quickly gathered her tote and laptop, aware that he was watching her movements and was probably wondering what was going on between them. To his credit, Liam didn’t say anything, but she suspected she’d be on the receiving end of a few questions the following day.

Five minutes later she was being driven from the parking area in Jonah’s stylish Lexus.

“Nice car,” she remarked, stroking the soft leather seat. “Very...understated.”

“What did you expect?” he asked, his mouth curved into a half smile.

“Oh, I don’t know...maybe a red Corvette.”

“Flashy isn’t my thing,” he remarked and pulled out onto Main Street. “I like things that are low-maintenance.”

Connie looked straight ahead. “Girls, too?”

“Girls, too,” he replied. “I guess that counts you out.”

“I’m not high-maintenance,” Connie stated, ignoring the heat suffusing her cheeks.

He chuckled. “Oh, you’re about as high as it gets.”

“Because I wouldn’t have sex with you?” she demanded. “That’s just your macho conditioning talking.”

He laughed and turned the car off Main Street, heading toward the bridge and over the river. “I have been turned down before, you know. Maybe not in such dramatic fashion. Or at such a...” His words trailed off for a moment. “Let’s call it a pivotal moment.”

Because your hand was up my skirt.

Like a camera speeding in reverse, Connie was suddenly back in his hotel room, feeling every touch, every kiss, every breath. And remembering how much she’d wanted him, how perfect his broad shoulders felt beneath her hands, how insanely erotic his kisses were. And then she remembered the rest—the fear clawing up her back, the feeling of suffocation, the sense that she was out of control...and that her body was someone else’s and not her own to command.

“I shouldn’t have gone to your room,” she said quietly. “You were right to be annoyed.”

“No, Connie,” he said, his voice just as quiet. “I wasn’t. It was your right to say no.”

“Thank you.”

“I am curious, though,” he said softly. “Did I do something to offend you? Was I too—”

“No,” she said quickly, eager to end the conversation. “It wasn’t you. It was me. I think I just panicked and—”

“You have nothing to fear from me, Connie,” he said, cutting her off. “Then or now.”

Heat burned her eyes. Because she knew that whatever else he was, Jonah Rickard was trustworthy and honorable. “I know that.” She looked around and blinked, forcing the heat away and realized they were nowhere near her street. “Um...where are we going?”

“If you don’t mind, I thought we could make a short detour,” he said casually and turned into a wide, leafy street.

“A detour?” she echoed, panic skirting along the edges of her spine for a moment. She dismissed the idea quickly. Jonah was not a threat. “To where?”

He pulled up outside a low-set, brick home with shuttered windows and a wide porch. “My mother’s.”

Connie had met Kathleen Rickard several times. Not quite fifty, she was a petite, attractive woman with pale hair and green eyes and was quite lovely. She hooked a thumb sideways. “This is your mom’s house?”

He nodded. “We can leave if you prefer.”

She saw the curtains move. “I think she knows we’re here.”

“So, we’ll go inside?”

Connie nodded warily. “I guess so.”

A minute later they were on the porch and the front door opened. Kathleen greeted her son with a warm embrace that was filled with love and devotion, and Connie experienced a sharp pang of envy. It wasn’t that her parents hadn’t loved her—she was sure they had, and still did, in their own way. But they were never very good at being parents. Kathleen, however, looked as though she would move heaven and earth to protect her only son. And in a way, she had. She’d left Cedar River when she’d gotten pregnant and made a new life for herself and her baby.

“Sweetie,” Kathleen said and touched Jonah’s face. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Mom,” he said with a groan and shook his head. “Don’t call me sweetie, okay?”

Kathleen laughed. “I’ll try not to. And Connie, it’s lovely to see you again. Jonah didn’t tell me he was bringing a...friend with him today.”

Heat crawled up her neck. “I’m just tagging along,” she explained. “I was working for a few hours today and my car is in the shop, so I needed a lift home from the hotel. I hope it’s okay that I’m here?”

“Of course,” Kathleen said, ushering them inside and down the hallway. “I’m delighted.”

The house was modest but tastefully decorated, and when they reached the living area, Connie noticed that one corner was filled with canvases and artist’s tools, including an assortment of easels and several small tables crammed with paints and charcoals.

“You’re an artist?” she asked.

Kathleen shrugged lightly. “I dabble. Though I’m not really very good. It’s more of a hobby than anything else.”

Connie noticed one of the largest easels was covered in a paint-splattered sheet. “Is that a secret project?”

Kathleen grinned. “More of a practice piece. I’m branching out into portraits. You know, you have lovely bone structure,” she commented and nodded and looked at her son. “She’d make a great model. Don’t you think, sweetie?”

“Mom,” Jonah chastised. “Enough with the sweetie thing.”

Connie wasn’t sure if he was genuinely embarrassed, but Kathleen took it in stride. They were clearly very close and a tight unit.

“Okay, I promise,” his mother said and shrugged. “Now, go and be useful and bring me some firewood,” she said and pointed to the empty crate near the hearth. “It’s going to get cold this week, and I’d like to be ready for the turn in the weather. It’s out by the back door.”

He lingered for a moment before leaving the room, his loose-limbed stride becoming so familiar to Connie that she suspected she could pick him out in a crowd at a hundred yards.

“So,” Kathleen said once he was out of sight. “Tell me, Connie...how long have you been dating my son?”

* * *

By the time he had the second hunk of firewood in his arms, Jonah figured that bringing Connie to his mother’s home was up there with some of the stupidest things he’d ever done. Because he knew from the look in his mom’s eyes that she was imagining all kinds of things—most of them focused on Connie being the first girl he’d brought home in nearly five years. Of course, like any mother, she had the matchmaking bug. And she wanted grandchildren...she’d made that clear on countless occasions. And yeah, maybe one day he’d find someone and raise a family. Maybe. One thing was for sure—he’d do a damned better job being a father than J.D. ever had.

By the time he returned to the living room, Connie was alone.

“Did you get the third degree?” he asked and dumped the firewood.

“Yes,” she replied. “It took several minutes of fast talking to convince her that I am not your girlfriend.”

He grinned. “That’s better than I expected. But in her defense, I don’t make a habit of bringing girls home to meet my mother.”

Something flashed in her eyes—something that had everything to do with the attraction that pulsed undeniably between them.

“So, why did you bring me?” she asked, brows up.

Jonah managed a shrug. “I don’t really know.”

She smiled. “I figured you’d be the kind of man who knows exactly what he’s doing at every moment. Or at least, that’s what you want people to think.”

Jonah’s mouth curled at the edges. “That sounds like more criticism.”

“It’s an observation,” she said, still smiling. “I see you, Jonah. I see what’s underneath your arrogance and resentment. You’re actually a lot nicer than you make out.”

Jonah grimaced. “Nah... I’m not.”

She chuckled. “It’s not a flaw, you know. Or a weakness.”

“It just feels like one, right?” he offered and shrugged a little. “Anyway, I’m sorry if my mom gave you the third degree.”

“She thinks you’re afraid of commitment.”

“Wary,” he corrected. “There’s a difference. I guess she’s in the kitchen making tea?”

She nodded. “She loves you a lot.”

“I know,” he said. “It’s mutual.”

“You’re lucky. No everyone gets that.”

There was pain in her voice, and it gave him an odd ache inside. “Didn’t you?”

“Not in the way you did,” she replied. “My parents were...are...hard to get close to. They’re career focused. Archaeologists,” she explained when he frowned. “The truth is, I spent most of my early childhood living on one excavation site after another, but when I was eight they sent me back here to live permanently with my grandparents. They parented me the best they could when they came back in between trips, but since they’d never planned on having kids, most of the time they were a train wreck. At the moment they’re in South America somewhere, but I don’t hear from them very often. I’m very grateful that I had my grandparents.” She sighed, then took a breath, and when she met his gaze, her eyes were brighter than usual. “I don’t know why I told you that.”

“I’m not judging. Just listening.”

“I know,” she said and dropped onto the sofa. “You’re good at it. It’s very annoying.”

Jonah laughed softly. “Some people think it’s charming.”

“Some women, you mean?” she suggested. “You’ve probably had women standing in line for you since you hit puberty.”

“Not quite,” he admitted. “I was something of a geek in high school. And puny. And I had braces.”

“That paints quite a picture. I imagined you were the quarterback with cheerleaders hanging off your every word.”

“No. A computer geek. I didn’t really discover girls until college.”

“Did you make up for lost time?”

Jonah’s blood quickened. “I did my best. What about you? Were you the most popular girl in high school?”

She shook her head. “Not by a long mile. Book nerd.”

“No high school boyfriend to take you to prom?”

“I didn’t go to prom. I left high school at end of my sophomore year.”

Surprised, he asked the obvious question. “You didn’t graduate?”

“I was homeschooled by my grandmother. She used to be a teacher. I started working at the hotel before graduation and J.D. offered me a full-time job when I got my diploma, but he insisted I get a college degree no matter what. So I achieved my BA through online courses.”

“Why didn’t you go to school and college the usual way?” he asked quietly.

She shrugged casually. Too casually, he thought. But she replied. “I just didn’t fit in at school. But I was determined to get an education.”

Admiration settled behind his ribs. It was a harder road than he’d had, that was for sure. Jonah had spent his elementary years at private school and high school years at the best educational facility Portland had to offer. J.D. hadn’t neglected his financial support on his secret family. It was everywhere else that he’d failed in the parenting department.

His mother returned a few moments later, carrying a tray and looking delighted, and he knew he was in for a load of questions the next time he visited alone. As he looked around the room, he realized how much change had occurred in the house since she’d moved in a few months earlier. There were pictures on the walls now, and a large framed landscape above the fireplace. And a few plants were scattered around the room in heavy ceramic pots.