A Love Surrendered (31 page)

She hoisted her chin, blinking back her tears. “I not only think you can, I think you do, but you’re too stubborn to admit it.”

He gaped, shaking his head as he dropped back in the seat,
arm draped over the top. His lips parted in a hard smile meant to convey his disbelief. “You’re out of your mind, kid, you know that? Drink your coffee,” he ordered, “the alcohol’s still muddling your brain.”

She did what he said, eyes averted and manner calming as if every drink she took braced her for battle. When she finished, she carefully laid the mug down and folded her hands neatly on the table, looking for all her eighteen years and tear-splotched face as if she were the adult and he was the pie-eyed kid on a bender. “What are you afraid of, Steven?” she whispered.

That did it. “You want to know what I’m afraid of?” he demanded. “I’m afraid of this—some kid still wet behind the ears thinking it’s smart to fool around with a guy like me.”

“I have no intention of ‘fooling around’ with you,” she said quietly, the strength of her words belying the softness of her tone. “No matter how I feel about you.”

He stared openmouthed, heat scalding his neck at the audacity of her statement. His pride prickled. Who did she think she was? Women threw themselves at him all the time. For pity’s sake, her own
sister
threw herself at him! And she thought she’d be different? He folded his arms on the table and leaned in. “Don’t be so sure, little sister,” he said, a trace of anger in a voice that was husky and low. “You Kennedys don’t have the best track record, you know.”

He heard the sharp catch of her breath and took satisfaction in the blush that broiled her cheeks. And then she opened fire like one of Capone’s thugs, gunning him down with a flash of her eyes. “Well, this is a different Kennedy, Agent O’Connor,
and
a different sister, and you know what? I think you’re running scared. You can deny your feelings all you want, but the truth is, you kissed me—not once, but twice, not to mention interfering in my life at every turn—”

“
Interfering
in your life?” His voice rose along with his blood pressure.

She defied him with a hard thrust of her chin, eyes glitter
ing. “Yes, first with Billy Brubaker, then Joe and Dale Brannock, and now Eddie tonight when you dragged me away.”

“Dragged-you-away?”
He blinked, barely able to believe he was wasting good breath arguing with a kid who was obviously as thick as she was tipsy. “I should have let them throw your carcass in jail, you brainless brat, and then you’d be Aunt Eleanor’s problem, not mine.”

“Exactly,” she snapped, as if he’d just proven her point. “But you didn’t. You risked your job and your reputation to haul me out of there tonight, so if we’re going to talk ‘brainless,’ Agent O’Connor, then I suggest you look in the mirror, because unless I miss my guess, you are one dim-witted man with his head in the sand.”

Miss Perky chose that moment to light on the booth, as welcome as a plague of locusts. “Here you go—two burgers, two orders of French fried potatoes, a slab of peach pie, and a glass of milk.” She dazzled them with a grin. “Anything else?”

Steven forced a smile, jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached. “Just the check.”

“Sure thing.” She placed the bill on the table and patted it for good measure. “Enjoy!”

Grinding his jaw, he grabbed his burger and bit in hard, singeing Annie with a glare.

She didn’t seem to notice, annoying him to no end. Lips pursed, she carefully cut her burger in half and took a dainty bite while perusing the menu with apparent fascination.

Halfway through his sandwich, he expelled a noisy breath. “Why are we arguing?”

She turned, chin elevated and brows raised. “Because you’re dim-witted and scared?”

He hurled his half-eaten burger on the plate. “Don’t start with me, Annie.”

“All right, Steven, how ’bout I finish with you instead? Just because I’m in love with you doesn’t mean you can bully me around like some . . . some snot-nosed kid fresh off the farm.”

“You
are
some snot-nosed kid fresh off the farm,” he hissed.

“Fine. Have it your way. There are plenty of guys who see me otherwise.”

A harsh laugh erupted from his throat. “Oh yeah, I’ve seen the kind of jokers you attract. Like that clown tonight with his hands all over you.”

She pushed her burger away, the anger in her tone matching her eyes. “He-was-consoling-me, you dimwit, and at least he’s man enough to take a chance on a girl that he likes.”

Her statement barbed, discharging his temper with another stony smile. “Sure, why not when he knows he can get what he wants?”

Her breath hitched, and he regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, but it was too late. Her face sagged from anger into hurt. Chin trembling, she silently rose, hands shaking while she groped for her purse.

“Annie, look, I’m sorry—”

Taking a step forward, she hauled off and slapped him so fast he never saw it coming, bells clanging in his skull as loudly as those from the door when it slammed hard behind her.

Muttering under his breath, he hurled payment and tip down before striding outside, finally spotting her running a half block away. “Blast it, Annie . . .” He took after her in a sprint, ignoring the stares of the few people who passed him on the way. He was heaving when he finally caught up with her, her heels clicking just a few feet ahead. “Annie—stop! I’m sorry . . .”

“Leave me alone!” she screamed over her shoulder, almost tripping in her effort to flee.

“I can’t do that,” he said. Breathing hard, he grabbed her from behind, and his gut cramped when a cry wrenched from her throat. She twisted and kicked like a wildcat and he pinned her close, restraining her until she finally went limp in his arms. Crickets crooned and cars whooshed by while couples laughed and music drifted, filling the steamy night with the rhythm of the city. But all he could hear was the sound of her weeping as her body shuddered against his, and he closed his eyes, heartsick at hurting her like he had.

Head tucked to hers, he gently stroked her hair, breathing in the clean scent of her shampoo and the pull of perfume that triggered his pulse. “Annie, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m an idiot, and that was a rotten thing to say. Please forgive me.”

Her weeping slowed, and he kneaded her back, jaw clenching at the thought of Eddie doing the same. Shaking the thought off, he pressed a kiss to her hair and pulled back, hands grazing down her arms to hold her at bay. “Can’t we put this behind us and still be friends?”

———

Friends?
Annie’s gaze slowly rose to meet his, her eyes raw, but nothing compared to her heart. She stared, bleeding at the concern etched into every muscle of his chiseled face, the intensity in blue eyes that told her he was a man of integrity and passion. Her gaze followed the line of a hard-sculpted jaw that conveyed a quiet strength and iron will, full lips that made her ache for the want of them, and she knew “friends” would never be an option again. She stroked a hand to his face and felt the bristle of beard that now shadowed his skin, and her heart ached at the only choice she had. Shoring up with a deep breath, she released it again in one long, quivering sigh. “I forgive you, Steven, and yes, we can put this behind us . . .” She shook her head and stepped out of his hold. “But if it’s all the same to you, I don’t think I can be your friend right now. My feelings for you are—” her throat shifted—“deep, and I need some time and distance.”

Swallowing hard, he buried his hands in his pockets and she suddenly saw the shy, introspective boy he must have been so long ago. “I understand, Annie, but can I at least walk you home?”

She nodded and he slipped a gentle arm to her shoulders, drawing her close on the few blocks to Aunt Eleanor’s house. Neither spoke, and she was glad. She was tired of crying and there was really nothing more to say. Hand to the small of her back, he guided her through the iron gate to the half-moon brick portico where lush impatiens and ivy spilled
from graceful stone urns. A brass sconce overhead cast a pale glow softer than moonlight while the music of tree frogs and crickets welcomed her home.

Fitting the key into the lock, she opened the door, leaving it ajar as she lifted her gaze. “Thank you for rescuing me tonight, Steven—
again.
” A pitiful smile trembled on her lips. She pulled the handkerchief from her purse and dabbed at her nose, her smile giving way to a weepy grin. “I suppose you’re right—I
am
a snot-nosed kid fresh off the farm. I’ll get this back to you, I promise.”

“No hurry,” he whispered, grazing her cheek with his thumb. “Good night, Annie.”

“Good night, Steven.” Turning away, she pulled her key from the lock and quietly stepped inside, desperate to shut the door before more tears could slip from her eyes.

“Wait.” It was a whisper, urgent and husky.

Her heart stopped, afraid she’d only imagined it. But when he blocked the door with his hand, her breath heaved still in her throat. “W-what are you d-doing?” she stuttered.

With a heavy exhale of air, he pulled her back through and prodded her to the brick wall, looming so close she almost felt the nerve that pulsed in his jaw. His voice was strained. “The last thing I want to do is get mixed up with a sweet kid like you. I’m no good for you, don’t you get that?” He backed away, stabbing at his hair while he paced and mumbled under his breath, a stream of garbled words she couldn’t decipher. Turning to face her again, he gripped her arms and gave her a shake. “I don’t want this,” he rasped, “don’t you understand that?”

She shrank back with a shaky nod, not really sure what else to do.

“Blast it, Annie, you’ve got me so crazy, I’m about to lose my mind.” He stared at her hard, almost wild-eyed, and then with a mutter, he wrenched her close and kissed her so thoroughly, her knees went to jelly. Breaking away with a groan, he butted her shoulders to the wall with a pained look in his
eyes. “See? This is exactly what I mean. You’re this naïve and innocent kid, and I’m so crazy for you that if we ever got together, I wouldn’t be good for you, I swear. I know what I’m like. I’d push and push—”

“Crazy for me?” she whispered, heart thudding while a smile trembled.

He huffed out a loud blast of air, eyes fixed on her lips before rising to capture her gaze, lids heavy with a look that heated both her skin and the goose bumps on it. “Yeah,” he whispered, “and I have no earthly idea what I’m going to do about it.”

She didn’t dare breathe while he studied her intently for several moments, a muscle twittering in his cheek as if a battle waged in his mind.

His chest expanded and released with a slow, weary breath before he cupped her face in his hands. “But, God help me, kid, I think I’m about to find out.”

As soft as the summer breeze feathering her skin, he bent to nuzzle her lips, his touch so tender that it stole the breath in her lungs. “I want to start seeing you, Annie,” he whispered, his mouth warm against her ear, “but you have to promise me something.” Her breathing shallowed when he fondled her mouth with his own, so slow and deliberate that she had to stifle a moan. “Promise you’ll be strong, that you’ll stay innocent no matter what I say or do.”

Heart thundering, she tore herself away to lay her head on his chest. She could hear the wild beat of his heart, smell his familiar scent that never failed to trip her pulse, and joy pumped inside at the prospect he might someday belong to her. “I promise,” she said in a quiet tone that belied the frantic clip of her heart. “And not just you, Steven, but God too.”

His heavy sigh tickled her ear, and for the first time all evening, she sensed a peace had settled on his soul. “Good girl.” Pressing a kiss to her head, he reached behind and opened the door, nudging her through with a smile that fluttered her stomach. “Then I guess we’re officially dating now,” he
said with an off-center grin, cuffing the back of his neck. He released a quiet breath. “G’night, Annie—I’ll give you a call tomorrow.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned to go, wheeling halfway on the top step to shoot her a narrow gaze. He slipped a hand from his pocket to level a finger, his tone a playful threat. “Don’t make me regret it.”

She couldn’t help it—she slid him a sassy grin. “The only thing you’re going to regret, Steven O’Connor,” she said, brow arched while she eased the door closed in his face, “is that it took you so long to wise up.”

Okay, it was official—he was an idiot. Luke stripped his T-shirt off and tossed it on top of the hamper, ignoring it when it slid to the floor. He stepped out of his boxers and into the shower, turning the faucet all the way to the right till the water pelted, as hard and cold as he could get—he deserved it. Feeling dirty, he picked up the soap and scrubbed his hands with a vengeance, wishing he could do the same with this guilt that sullied his conscience.

Katie had been right. He should have been working alone, not with some starry-eyed coed who had the skill of flirting down to a fine art. He closed his eyes, letting the icy water freeze his body while her memory frosted his mind.

“Luke, I need your help,” she had said, smiling over her shoulder, tiptoe on a chair. In natural reflex, he’d scanned up mile-long legs, past the curve of her hips to the stretch of her torso as she tugged a heavy box of files off a top shelf.