Holiday in Your Heart (19 page)

“The most beautiful breasts I've ever seen,” he said, his rough-edged voice caressing her senses. “The most beautiful body. I swear you're like a fantasy come true, Maribeth.”

“I know the feeling.” She pushed backward to mold the bare cheeks of her butt to his pelvis. His erection pressed against her through his underwear, and her sex moistened with the desire to have him fill her.

He pumped his hips, thrusting against her, and then to her surprise stepped away. Ah, he was peeling off his boxers. She started to turn, but he caught her by the hips and held her in place, and then her thong was sliding down her legs.

Bending forward, he pressed his lips to the spot where neck met shoulder and, to her surprise, bit her. It was only a gentle nip, but she'd anticipated a kiss, so it startled her. He sucked the tender spot, and she shuddered at the delicious sensation. “Mo, why don't we—” She was about to suggest they climb into the bath, but he interrupted.

“Action. I promised I'd act, not think.” He caught her hips again, tugging her backward. “Brace yourself on the counter.”

Oh, so that's what he was up to! She could definitely get into that. She leaned forward with her forearms on the vanity, her legs spread, and her butt cocked in his direction.

His finger followed the crease between her buttocks, all the way down to where she was hot and damp. He slicked moisture over her, sliding his finger back and forth but never quite touching her clit. Another finger joined in, and then he thrust both fingers inside her, making her gasp with pleasure.

He pumped and circled, exploring her secret places, dragging whimpers of need from her.

She stared into the mirror at her hectically flushed cheeks and dazzle-bright eyes. “Now,” she told him. “Please, Mo, I want you inside me.”

His fingers withdrew and she waited, aching with anticipation.

She heard a rustle; knew he was opening a condom and sheathing himself. Her body tensed and she quivered with the waiting.

And then he caught her waist in one hand, urging her to tilt her hips a bit more, and then—

“Oh God,” she cried as he thrust deep and hard, all the way into her core. Her body, so primed and on edge, convulsed and a sharp orgasm ripped through her.

She was so caught up in it that Mo's voice barely registered and she didn't catch his words.

“Open your eyes, Maribeth,” he said more sharply.

She hadn't realized she'd closed them, but now she obeyed his command and saw their reflections, the creamy-skinned woman and the coffee-brown man, joined together as sultry sandalwood steam drifted around them. One of his arms circled her waist, holding her firmly as he pumped in and out. His head rose above her left shoulder, color riding his cheekbones. As his gaze met and held hers, his eyes, too, were glittery with passion.

This man. He was everything she wanted.

Or at least he could be if he managed to move beyond the shackles of his past and let himself dream of a full, rich future. If he could let himself be the man who she was positive dwelt deep inside him.

Chapter Ten

The next Monday evening, Mo forced down a few bites of a ham sandwich. He had worked at the garage that day. Though it was supposed to be his day off, Hank had been feeling under the weather and Mo'd been happy to fill in. It kept him busy and took his mind off worrying about that night. He'd closed up late after having to tow in a minivan that had broken down as the owner drove home from work. Still, he'd made it back to his apartment with enough time to shower and fix a snack.

He crumbled the rest of his sandwich into Caruso's bowl. “Yeah, I'm nervous,” he told the dog. “If Evan's wife doesn't like me, I don't think there's a hope in hell that he will agree to see me.” Maribeth had arranged for Jess and Brooke to come over to her place tonight and talk to Mo.

For a man who had, over the past ten years, reduced his life to the basic elements, things sure had become complicated.

After checking his watch for the dozenth time, he pulled his denim jacket on over the good shirt and pants he'd worn when he went out with Maribeth. “However this goes, it'll be a relief to get it over with.” He wrapped the red scarf around his neck and stepped outside.

Caruso came with him, falling in step at his left heel. Having taken Maribeth's suggestion, Mo pulled a leash from his pocket and dangled it. Caruso ignored it.

At a brisk pace, they set out for Maribeth's house. Mo went over it all again in his head, the details Maribeth had conveyed to him. Tonight, Evan was scheduled to give a talk on financial management at the community center. Brooke's husband, the RCMP officer, was on duty. Jess's daughter from her first marriage, Robin, was staying with her father and his wife, Dave and Cassidy. Jess and Evan's little boy, who'd be two in December, was there, too, being babysat, as was Brooke and Jake's slightly younger daughter. Brooke and Jess would pick up the toddlers after they left Maribeth's.

All these people were, to varying degrees, related to Mo. How was that possible, from one teenage screwup with birth control?

“I am so out of my depth,” he muttered to Caruso.

The dog nudged his gloved hand as if he understood and was offering support.

Mo stroked the animal's head. “Life would be a whole lot simpler if it was just us guys.” Now how had that happened, that he'd not only accepted Caruso into his life, but saw the two of them as a team?

When they reached Maribeth's, an SUV was parked in her driveway. It had a logo with riding boots and the words “Riders Boot Camp.” Maribeth and Brooke had both mentioned that Jess and Evan owned a residential riding school.

Mo's son, the boy who'd been a klutz when it came to any physical activity, the kid who'd refused to even consider mounting a horse, was now helping his horse-crazy wife run a riding school. It boggled the mind.

At Maribeth's door, Mo took a deep breath, then rang the bell. A moment later she opened the door, looking soft and feminine in a pink sweater and, for the first time, a skirt. A skirt patterned in bright pink and charcoal gray that brushed the tops of her feet. Instead of her usual puppy-dog slippers, she wore pink flats with sparkly stones. They emphasized how small and cute her feet were.

“Hi, Mo,” she said, and then raised up to brush a kiss across his lips.

“Hey, Maribeth. You sure look nice.”

“Thanks. Jess and Brooke are both here.”

He nodded. Maribeth had suggested that they time things so the women arrived first and got settled and comfortable. Before going inside, he squatted and said to Caruso, “If you want to be inside where it's warm and dry, you can go around back. Okay?” Over the weekend, Mo had installed a pet door, and Caruso had quickly become comfortable with it.

Caruso gave a short warble and then ran off to chase a robin.

Mo stuck the leash in his jacket pocket, squared his shoulders, and stepped through the front door.

“You look nice, too,” Maribeth said, taking his coat and scarf. “It's good that you dressed up. It shows this is important to you.”

He followed her into the living room. A fire was burning, instrumental music played quietly in the background, and Brooke and a younger woman sat side by side on the sofa.

Evan's wife. Mo's daughter-in-law. He'd met her before, but only a couple of times, and that was decades back. Though Jess Bly had been Evan's best and only friend when they were kids, Evan—smart boy that he was—had avoided bringing her to his dysfunctional home. The friendship hadn't made sense to Mo. Evan had been all about schoolwork and Jess was totally into horses. But something had drawn them together as kids and, according to Brooke, when Evan had returned to Caribou Crossing as an adult, their paths had crossed again and friendship had bloomed into romance.

As Mo seated himself in one of the chairs, Brooke said unnecessarily, “Mo, this is Jess.”

Jess was the slimmest of the three women, and her jeans and flannel shirt made a statement that she wasn't dressing up for him. She was attractive in a natural way, and there was one thing about her that he recognized. “You still have a ponytail.”

“And I still look out for the people I care about,” she said, chin lifted and a challenge in her voice.

“That's a good quality,” he responded.

Her brown eyes, a shade darker than her chestnut hair, narrowed, and he could sense a host of snide comments hovering in her mind.

Before she could decide which one to utter, Maribeth intervened. “What can I get everyone to drink? I have a pot of decaf coffee brewing, and the kettle's on so I can make tea. There's also fruit drinks and soda in the fridge. And beer, Jess, if you'd like one.”

“Coffee's good,” Jess said. Brooke asked for herbal tea. Mo, feeling a little sweaty from anxiety, asked for a cold drink.

When Maribeth had gone to the kitchen, Mo said, “Jess, thank you for coming and giving me a chance.”

“I'm here because I respect Brooke's and Maribeth's judgment.” Her expression was troubled. “And because I think that if you've actually turned into a decent guy, it would be good for Evan to know you. But that's a big
if
.”

“I understand. Like I've told Brooke and Maribeth, I was a total shit back then. And I had no excuse, not like Brooke with her bipolar disorder and alcoholism.”

“We were both, uh, shits,” Brooke said firmly. Clad in a pretty blue blouse and navy pants, she sat upright with her hands folded in her lap and a solemn expression on her face. “My illnesses are no excuse. I should have acknowledged that I had problems and sought help. I just thank God that Evan was so smart and independent, and that he had Jess and her parents to support him.”

Mo recalled how, more often than not, Evan had been over at Bly Ranch, doing homework with Jess and staying for dinner. One of her parents would pick the kids up from school and drop Evan back home near bedtime. “Yes, Jess, that was a good thing you and your folks did. And, Brooke, don't be too hard on yourself. At least you stuck by Evan rather than abandoning him.”

She gave him a wobbly smile.

“Mo, you should know—” Jess started, then she stopped as Maribeth returned carrying a tray.

They were all silent as Maribeth organized everything. A mug of coffee for Jess; a teapot and mugs of tea for Brooke and herself; a glass of sparkling orange drink for Mo; a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the coffee table. She seated herself in a chair.

Mo took a long swallow of the orange beverage. “What were you going to say, Jess?”

Her chin was up again. “It was my parents who reported you to the RCMP.”

He absorbed that information. “I always wondered. I thought it might have been a teacher.” He swallowed. “I'm grateful to them.”

“What?” she said, clearly taken by surprise. Then she carried on. “You mean because it gave you an excuse to skip town, right?”

He thought back. “To be honest, yeah, I guess partly so. But it also brought it home to me, what I was doing to Evan. And to Brooke. A slap, a shove, those things didn't seem so bad to me when I was drinking and pissed off with them and the world.”

“I did the same things,” Brooke said quickly. “It wasn't all Mo.”

He gave her a grateful nod. “But when the police officer said I'd been reported for suspected child abuse, I realized that's exactly what it was: abuse. A criminal act and a, well, an immoral, inexcusable act.”

“But you didn't face the consequences, admit it, and take your punishment,” Jess said. “You didn't change.”

“No, I didn't stay and take my punishment. And for years after, I still drank and got riled up sometimes, but I swear, I never again hit a woman or a child.”

Brooke's eyes—blue green but a different shade than his, a color that had always made him think of a tropical ocean on a travel poster—were fixed on his face and he thought he read compassion in them. “The police at the door was my wake-up call, too,” she said quietly. “I was still a terrible mother, but I never again hit Evan. He was uncoordinated, bumped into things and tripped over his own feet, but from that point on, none of his bruises came from me.”

There was a long silence. Near Mo, Maribeth sat back in her chair, sipping from a mug of tea, listening but not intervening. Jess pressed her fingers to her temples as if she was fighting a headache.

Mo took a breath and then addressed Jess again. “Yeah, I ran away, abandoning my wife and son. I had a history of running when things got too tough for me to handle. When I didn't want to face consequences. Did Brooke tell you about the army?”

“Yes. So did her parents and sister, who've been here to visit. You deserted. You skipped the country, you and Brooke had to cut all ties with your families, and you can never return to the States.” Jess didn't sound the least bit sympathetic, and there was no reason she should.

Mo found himself quite liking this young woman who was willing to listen to him but wouldn't cut him any slack.

“Actually, I did go back,” he said, and told her about the lawyer who'd represented him and how he'd been given an administrative discharge.

Brooke leaned forward. “Mo, I didn't know that.”

“Sorry. Guess I should've got in touch and told you. But I figured so much time had passed, and we were divorced, so my, uh, legal status wouldn't really affect yours.”

“No, that's not what I meant. Just that . . . well, I'm glad you did it. That you faced up to what you'd done.” She took a breath and then said hesitantly, “I asked my parents about your family, but they said they lost touch right after we left.”

“I tracked down my sister on the Internet,” he told her. “She's married with two children and is co-owner of a catering business. Our mother died fifteen or so years back. Dad remarried—a divorced woman with a couple of kids. He's retired now. I e-mail with my sister now and then, and my dad maybe once a year.”

He glanced at Jess and Maribeth. “Sorry for the sidetrack.” And then back to Brooke. “I'm glad you've made things up with your family.”

“Me, too. Say hi to your sister and dad from me, the next time you're in touch.”

“Mo.” The firm voice was Jess's, and he turned to look at her.

“A sidetrack?” she said. “Not exactly. Do you realize you're talking about Evan's aunt and grandfather?”

His mouth fell open. “Uh, I hadn't thought about it that way.”

“Obviously.” Her eyes narrowed again.

Mo didn't think she'd even picked up her coffee mug, she'd been so intent on watching him and listening to him. Now he waited with trepidation to see what she'd say next.

“You ran away from two families,” Jess said, “and from the army. Now you've sort of come back. The army discharged you, so you're done with them. You have occasional e-mail contact with your family, and that's it. And now here you are in Caribou Crossing, wanting what? Absolution or something? To turn yourself in, like with the army, and say you're sorry, and then get some official ‘it's okay, it's in the past' discharge kind of thing? So you can go away again?”

“Uh . . .” That had been a lot of words, a lot to take in and process. A lot to think about. But those clear brown eyes were fixed on him, expecting an answer. Now.

“You haven't thought it through,” Jess said.

The army had been easier to deal with than this one slender woman.

“No, I guess I haven't. What's been in my mind these past years is how badly I treated Evan and Brooke. I didn't—don't—want to mess up their lives any more than I've already done. But I do want them to know that I realize how bad I behaved and that I am truly sorry.”

“And I appreciate that,” Brooke said, her voice so soft and compassionate after Jess's judgmental tone. “You and I were immature and screwed up and we had an unhealthy dynamic. It's good for me to be able to talk to you about those days and the mistakes we both made, and to know that you've shouldered your share of the blame.”

“But Evan doesn't deserve any of the blame,” Jess said implacably. “So it's a different situation. How will it help him to talk to you?”

“Maybe it'll give him a chance to vent some anger,” Mo said. “And to know how rotten I feel.”

Maribeth spoke quietly. “Perhaps Evan would like to know that his father cares about him.”

Mo shot her a surprised look. She'd been so quiet up until now. Her understanding smile was a small shaft of warmth and comfort that soothed his frazzled nerves.

Brooke spoke next. “Evan had many things to blame me for, too, Jess. But look how close the two of us are now. And you know that it's largely due to you. You believed in me, and you helped open Evan's mind to giving me a second chance.”