If I Can't Have You (If You Come Back To Me #3) Read online

  “She’ll need you at her side the most then,” Mari said, taking an empty club-soda bottle from Colleen and throwing it in the recycle bin. She glanced at Colleen sadly. “And Deidre still refuses to speak to Brigit?”

  She nodded. “She’s adamant about not seeing Mom. You know Deidre. She’s a force of nature when she makes up her mind about something. She blames Mom for everything. I try to talk to her about starting slowly with reconciliation—testing the waters—but Deidre is so hurt, you know? She’s even refusing to attend the wedding, because she doesn’t want to see Mom.”

  Mari opened her mouth to reply, compassion in her eyes, but was interrupted by the kitchen door swinging open and the sound of energetic Latin music filtering into the kitchen.

  “The natives are getting restless for those drinks after some impromptu rumbaing,” Marc Kavanaugh told his wife, an amused look on his handsome face. Mari snorted and grabbed the drink tray.

  “I’m sorry I missed you doing the rumba,” she told her husband as she walked toward the door. “I hope you didn’t throw a hip out or anything.”

  “My hips are in perfect working order,” Marc murmured, stroking his wife’s lower back. “I keep them well-tuned, in deference to you.”

  “They’re well-tuned because of me,” Mari replied very softly, laughter in her voice. They kissed briefly and walked out of the kitchen.

  Colleen wasn’t supposed to overhear their teasing, intimate little exchange, but she had. She also didn’t miss Marc’s special grin meant just for his wife or the way he caressed Mari’s hip in such an appreciative manner.

  A strange feeling went through her. Was it envy? Longing for the kind of relationship Marc and Mari had?

  All this wedding planning is making you miss Darin, that’s all, she told herself as she screwed the cap on a soda bottle.

  Deep down, she knew that mental reassurance wasn’t entirely correct. Darin’s death had left an empty hole in her life, but this current feeling of longing, while not wholly unfamiliar, was not something she associated to her late husband. Darin and she had been the best of friends, entirely comfortable with one another. Their sex life had been good. They’d both been young and healthy and eager to express their love for each other physically.

  But still, what she’d experienced with Darin had felt…controllable. There was no sense of tumbling dangerously head over heels or potentially sacrificing too much. She knew he would leave her while he was on duty for extended periods of time. She knew how dangerous his work was as an Army Ranger. She’d mentally prepared herself for periods apart from him, although who could totally prepare themselves for that final, most difficult separation?

  Darin’s death had been hard—beyond hard—but she’d endured.

  She hated to admit it to herself, but since his death, part of her had been glad she hadn’t been in that wild, fevered, impassioned kind of love with Darin. How could she have survived after his death if she’d surrendered every last shred of herself?

  Following her father’s death, Colleen had been desperate for stability and certainty. The known world of her family life had suddenly crumbled. Her once respected and adored father was dead, maligned by the press and townspeople. Her sister, Deidre, left Harbor Town, never to return.

  When she’d met Darin at nineteen, she’d immediately been attracted to his easy charm, amiable personality, and desire and ability to care for her unconditionally. She’d loved Darin. Part of her always would. But they hadn’t shared the deep, passionate connection she observed between Marc and Mari or Liam and Natalie.

  But you’d thought your parents shared that same respect and passion, the niggling voice in her head said. Look what was hiding in the dusty, dark corners of that seemingly ideal relationship: infidelity, lies, secrets…

  She slammed the cupboard door closed with a bang, willing the troublemaking voice in her head to shut up.

  Around midnight Colleen said her goodbyes to the last guests and shut the front door. Eric, Mari and Marc insisted they wanted to help her clean up, but she protested, shooing them out the door. She’d prefer to attack things in the morning. Colleen couldn’t keep her mother from staying, though. Fortunately, the babysitter watching Brendan, Jenny, and Marc and Mari’s daughter, Riley, at her mother’s house had been hired to stay overnight and well into the morning. Together they made a good dent in the cleanup.

  When Brigit finally left at close to 1:00 a.m., Colleen breathed a sigh of relief. She rubbed her neck as she walked down the dim hallway, feeling exhausted but happy. The party had been a success. It’d been a long day, and it was late. The thought of getting out of her heels and diving into bed was enticing.

  She started and paused when she heard a tap on the front door. She hurried back and flipped on the front porch light.

  “Did you forget something,” she asked as she opened the door, halting when she saw it wasn’t her mother, but Eric. He’d changed out of his suit. He stood on her small front porch, hands in his front pockets. He looked just as appealing in jeans, T-shirt and a casual jacket than he had in his well-cut, expensive suit. She shoved the thought aside.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, stunned.

  “I started to feel bad about leaving when there was still stuff to be done.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she admonished. “Everything is all cleaned up. There’s nothing left to do but go to bed.”

  The silence seemed to swell and press on her eardrums in the seconds that followed. Colleen mentally replayed what she’d just said and blushed.

  “I really didn’t come over to help you clean up,” he suddenly said.

  She crossed her arms under her breasts, trepidation causing her backbone to straighten. “You didn’t?”

  He shook his head, holding her stare. “I wanted to talk to you about something. Do you mind?” he asked, nodding toward her family room.

  She sighed and opened the door all the way. She minded all right, but not because she was tired. Her fatigue had melted out of her during some point while Eric and she regarded each other silently, only to be replaced by a nervous sort of anticipation. He followed her down the hallway into her family room. She paused in front of the fireplace and turned to face him. “What is it?” she asked.

  He nodded toward the couch. “Why don’t you sit down? You must be tired. You were on the move all night, and those heels don’t look very foot friendly.” She shifted self-consciously when she noticed his appreciative glance at her stiletto-clad feet.

  “I’m fine standing,” she said, even though her feet ached like crazy. “What did you need to talk to me about?” she asked, not at all sure she wanted to hear his answer.

  Eric studied her before he answered. Colleen was always beautiful, but tonight she looked sinful in an emerald-green dress and a pair of sexy, strappy black leather heels. He hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her legs all night. Or the bounce of her lush, golden hair…or her pink lips…or the way the clinging fabric of her dress emphasized the shape of her breasts, her hips, her…

  He cleared his throat and took a step toward her, resting one of his hands on the mantel.

  “I’m getting the impression our plan isn’t going to work,” he said.

  “You’re not going to start lecturing me about Janice Tejada, are you? I’m not going to apologize for what I said to her. I’m a therapist. I have to rely on instinct, and my instinct told me at that moment I should say what I said.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “But your instinct also tells you Liam and Natalie are rushing into things,” he pointed out.

  “Your scheme isn’t going to work. Not because I disagree about Natalie and Liam being rash, but because—”

  “It’s none of our business,” Eric finished for her, already having come to the same conclusion.

  �
��Exactly.”

  “Well, you can’t blame a big brother for trying,” he mused. His gaze skittered across a framed photo of a man with dark gold, close-clipped hair in military uniform.

  “Darin?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You miss him a lot, don’t you?”

  “Did you come over here to ask me about Darin?” she asked, a trifle impatiently.

  “Maybe,” he admitted.

  She gave him an exasperated glance, and he grinned. He’d grown accustomed to her irritation with him over the past week and a half. Maybe he’d grown used to it because her bouts of annoyance seemed increasingly just for show, and they both knew it. His attraction for her grew every second he spent with her. Colleen was like a drug. The more she let down her guard and showed him her vibrant spirit, the more he wanted to drown in it.

  The truth was, they were getting used to each other. The truth was, Colleen liked him. It was time for him to push her, just a tad, into admitting that fact.

  “Is Darin the reason you refuse to go out with me?”

  Her expression flattened. Her clear, bluish-green eyes went huge in her face. Apparently he’d taken her by surprise.

  Good.

  “I wasn’t aware of the fact that you’d ever asked me out,” she blurted.

  He glanced up at the ceiling, pretending to consider. “You’re right. Maybe I haven’t ever officially. I would have thought my intentions were clear, though.”

  She made an incredulous sound.

  “No?” he asked.

  “If you’re talking about your insinuation that you wanted to sleep with me while we were dancing tonight, then you definitely were not clear. Wanting to go to bed with someone and asking them on a date are two completely different things.” She pushed a tendril of hair behind her shoulder in a nervous gesture. He noticed the rapid throb of her pulse at her throat. He wanted to touch her. Whether to soothe her or excite her, he didn’t know, but the desire to feel his skin against hers felt so powerful it was like a stab of pain.

  “Okay. If you say so. Will you go out on a date with me, then?” he asked quietly.

  Her eyes flashed. “No.”

  “Then that takes me back to my original question. Is it because you’re still mourning your late husband?”

  “No.”

  “Then I was right earlier—it is about me. Haven’t I proven to you at this point that I’m not the SOB you were always making me out to be?”

  “Eric,” she began in a pressured manner and then halted. “I don’t think you’re an SOB.”

  “You used to. You never made a secret of that.”

  Color stained her cheeks. He glanced down and saw that the small triangle of skin exposed at her chest had deepened in color, as well. Her breasts rose in agitation. He dragged his gaze back up to her face with an effort.

  “I know it. And I’m sorry. I haven’t really thought that for a while now. You’re…you’re okay.”

  “High praise indeed, coming from you. Was that a proposal?”

  “Ha,” she scoffed. Still, her defenses were wavering. She looked more uncertain than annoyed. Vulnerability made her even more beautiful, impossible though that seemed. “My point is, I like you fine. You’re nowhere near as arrogant as I thought you were. That doesn’t mean I want to…” She paused. Eric watched through a narrowed gaze as she bit at her lower lip. His body responded like she’d just reached out and stroked him where it counted. He moved a few inches closer to her, his actions directed by pure instinct.

  “…go out with you,” she finished in a tremulous voice.

  “I promise I’ll be patient, Colleen. I’ll go slow, if that’s what you want. I’ll go fast, if that’s what you prefer. Whatever you want. Just know that I’ll take very, very good care of you,” he murmured, dropping his head nearer to hers. She didn’t move away, just looked up at him with a big-eyed stare that made him feel one part tender and one part like the big bad wolf.

  “Will you please stop looking at me like that?” she whispered.

  “I can’t seem to help it. Can’t seem to stop this, either,” he admitted before he cradled the side her neck in his hand and kissed her. She made a sound in her throat like a desperate whimper and returned the kiss.

  He’d kept himself on a tight leash ever since that day in his office, but his restraint tank was now officially on empty. Spending time with her this past week, seeing the way her eyes lit up when she laughed, watching her move gracefully amongst the guests all evening, holding her in his arms while they danced—all of it had worn him thin. A man could only take so much, no matter how rational that man was.

  Besides, all it took was touching Colleen once, and he became the polar opposite of rational. Losing himself in pure feeling had never felt so good.

  He reacquainted himself with the shape of her mouth, gloried in how responsive she was, how soft. The heat just behind her lips beckoned him. He stroked her with his tongue, and she opened for him. He groaned and put his hands on her hips, pulling her against him. The feeling of her curving flesh covered by clinging knit fabric made everything go red for a moment. He leaned over her, trying to slake himself on her taste. The more he drank of her, the more he touched, the more he wanted. His hands moved hungrily, detailing her back, the ridge of her spine.

  He molded her hips in his palms before he traced the curve that led to her narrow waist. So soft. So feminine. Her rib cage felt narrow and delicate in his cradling palms. He could feel her heart beating rapidly inside of it. When he touched the side of her breast and felt firm, luscious flesh, they each moaned into the other’s mouth.

  He lifted his head and studied her face as he shaped her breast to his palm. A shudder of excitement went through her. Her eyelids opened a crack. Her eyes looked glassy, her lips pink and slightly puffy from his ravening kiss.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he muttered through a tight jaw. “Have I told you that?”

  “Yes,” she mumbled. “While we danced.”

  “It wasn’t enough. I want to tell you more. I want to show you.”

  His thumb found her nipple, and he stroked her. He stayed immobile, but it was as if his entire body leapt in arousal. Even through her bra, he felt how she stiffened in response to his caress. He cradled the weight of her breast and molded her flesh against his hand, teasing the nipple into further pronouncement with his thumb and forefinger.

  She closed her eyes and gasped, arching her spine slightly and pressing their hips together tightly. He winced in pleasure at the sensation. Unable to resist the lure of her parted lips, he plucked at her mouth, consuming her…coaxing her.

  His hand traveled down the length of her body, exploring her hip and the taut, delicious curve of a buttock. He’d wanted to touch her so much over the past several days. Being able to do so now—feeling her firm, feminine flesh, hearing her little moans of excitement—felt like the height of sensual gratification.

  Having her touch him was just as intoxicating. Her hands caressed his lower back, and then his hips. She stroked his outer thigh as though she was trying to feel the shape of the muscle through his clothing. Her enthusiastic caresses drove him a little nuts. If their bodies pressed any closer, he was going to be inside—

  She bit at him gently, dragging his lower lip between her front teeth. A shudder of pleasure went through him. His eyes sprang wide.

  Enough already.

  He sealed their torrid kiss with a low growl of arousal. His hands on her waist, he urged her to follow him. She gave a little shriek of surprise when he fell back on her couch, bringing her with him until she partially sprawled on top of him. He shifted his hands beneath the fabric of her dress, relishing the sensation of long, silk-clad legs. He grabbed just above her knees and pulled, sliding her along his legs a
nd firmly into his lap. His jaw clamped tight at the sensation of her breasts crushed against his chest, their bellies pressed tight…the heat from their arousal mingling.

  Her lips were still parted in surprise at their sudden transfer of position. He laced his fingers through her long hair and cradled her head, kissing her hard before she had a chance to speak. His other hand opened along the length of a silky thigh. She shifted subtly in his lap as she kissed him, making it harder and harder for him to control himself.

  One hand trailed up her back and found the tab of her dress zipper. The sound of it lowering was like a hiss of arousal. Her skin was warm and satin-soft between the parting fabric. He poked his hand beneath the dress and spread his hand over the back of her ribs, greedy to absorb the sensation of her.

  He groaned and broke their heated kiss. How was it that a small patch of skin on a woman’s back could make him so desperate?

  “I’m taking you to bed,” he proclaimed gruffly.

  “What?” she mumbled.

  He paused in the action of preparing to shift her in his lap so he could lift her in his arms. He shouldn’t have paused, but he did. She hadn’t sounded uncertain, necessarily, just dazed.

  “To bed,” he repeated. He gave a small smile when he saw how befuddled she looked…how gorgeous. Unable to refrain, he nipped at her bee-stung lower lip. “You do have one of those, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do,” she mouthed, even though no sound came out of her mouth as she stared at his face as if she’d never seen him before.

  “Mari told me earlier the kids were at your mother’s. We’re all alone, Colleen. It’s just you and me.”

  Her beautiful, desire-glazed eyes went wide.

  Abruptly, she pushed herself out of his arms. She stood clumsily. One moment, he held a sex-softened, eager female; the next, two feet of air separated them.