Love to Believe: Fireflies ~ Book 2 (8 page)

BOOK: Love to Believe: Fireflies ~ Book 2
2.63Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“Hard not to. And for the record, he was wrong.” Sean leaned forward and rested his warm hand over hers. “You’re totally worth it, and he’s an idiot.” He squeezed her hand and then retreated. “You look beautiful.”

Rebecca’s lips curved in a crooked smile. “Thanks for that, but Nate’s not totally to blame. He overreacted for sure, but I’ve given him plenty of reason over the last few months.”

Sean regarded her but said nothing, and even through Rebecca’s slight alcohol haze, she understood one of the things that made him a successful lawyer. His attentive expression encouraged conversation and confidences without giving away anything of what thoughts brewed behind those Kinkaid blues.
Tell me everything
, those gorgeous peepers urged her. So she did.

“I made it clear when Nate and I started dating that I didn’t have the time or inclination for a serious relationship. My dad had a heart attack last summer, and Caleb and I had to step up to keep the business going. It was tough for Cal, because he still had his own business to run, so I took more responsibility. We both figured once Dad saw that I could handle it, he’d be on board, but that hasn’t happened.” She finished off her drink and exchanged the martini glass for her water goblet. “Is it true, what Nate said? That my dad told everyone I can’t cut it?”

“I didn’t get that impression, no. It’s more that he’s old school in his thinking. If you were a man, he wouldn’t think twice about your role in the company. Cal’s in your corner one hundred percent, and your father will come around eventually.”

“I used to think so. I’m not so sure now.” She thought back to that afternoon and her conversation with her father. No, she doubted he would change his mind about her abilities. Resigned, she shook her head and pushed an escaped curl from her face. “Anyway, Nate knew the job had to come first. He was okay with it in the beginning, but lately, not so much.”

“So what happened tonight?”

“I was three hours late.”

“So I heard. But what happened?”

“I knew tonight was important to Nate. But believe me, I had no idea why, and that proposal thing--” She blew out a long breath. “--where did that come from? I just told him again last night I don’t want a serious relationship. Anyway, when I got home my neighbor was hurt, so I took her to the ER. I was covered in blood, so I had to go home and change, which made me even later, and then my damn tire went flat.” At Sean’s raised brows she laughed and shook her head. “Not the same tire as last night. The driver’s side this time. I have to stop driving through construction sites. I’m picking up nails. Anyway, I had to wait for a cab. I must have left ten messages for Nate. He wouldn’t pick up. It was like he expected me to be late, waited for it, and of course I was, but what choice did I have? And as you may have figured out from his tirade, he didn’t believe me, anyway.”

“Why do you always meet instead of driving together?”

“It usually saves time and makes it easier for me.”

“So what will you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“To fix things.”

Rebecca’s cheeks heated, but she kept her eyes on Sean’s and shrugged. “Nothing. There isn’t anything to fix. He wants more than I can give. Getting married and having kids is nowhere on my immediate agenda. I’ve been telling him that. And I refuse to be with someone who thinks I’m a liar.” She picked up her water glass and took a few sips, something to shut herself up, but the martinis had loosened her tongue and the words bubbled out of her mouth. “All I asked for was a friends-with-bennies kind of thing. Like the movie, you know? No ties, no hassle, no--” She gestured to the area around them with her arms. “--no messy scenes in a public place.” She leaned forward, grabbed Sean’s silk tie and pulled him toward her until their noses were an inch apart. “Most bachelors in their thirties would love that, wouldn’t they? I think it makes me the perfect girlfriend, don’t you?”

Sean’s eyes crinkled at the corners and his lips curved upward in an amused grin. “I’d be a fool to disagree.”

She set him free and settled back in her seat before it struck her that he hadn’t answered the question.

Jonathan came by and Sean ordered cappuccinos for himself and Rebecca, a chocolate cannoli, and tiramisu as well, because he couldn’t decide which dessert he wanted and Rebecca, who agreed to share, had no preference. When Jonathan bustled out of earshot she leaned forward. “So, what’s your deal, Sean?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, with the exception of last night, whenever we have those big family get-togethers you always bring a date with you. And I don’t mean to be catty, but while you choose women with bodies to die for, none of them have much in the way of a personality. This is a conundrum to me. What’s your reasoning?”

Sean tapped his fingertips on the tabletop. Rebecca imagined the wheels turning inside that handsome head of his, wondered if he debated with himself about what and how much to say, or if he was just looking for an easy way out.

 

***

 

How to answer the question without making himself look like a shallow asshole? There was no way. Denying Rebecca’s assessment would be a lie, but the truth was too personal, so much so that he had never discussed it with anyone except his priest--and then only because he was Catholic enough to feel guilty as hell--much less a tipsy Rebecca Walker over an impromptu dessert.

He chose his words with care, sticking to the edges of the truth and knowing that he’d sound like an asshole anyway.

“I’m thirty-five and career driven with no interest in a relationship that ties up my time and energy. A wife and children are not in the cards for me. Ever. As in never, ever. That doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the benefits of a healthy adult relationship. I do, but I limit it to women who don’t want any more out of it than I do.”

“Women like Cynthia, from the Fourth of July last year.”

“Yes,” Sean nodded. “Cynthia is a perfect example. She’s a beautiful and brilliant corporate attorney, but not much of a people person. She’s a hard-ass and not well-liked by most, but she’s comfortable in her own skin and doesn’t care what anyone else thinks. I like that about her. I also like that for the duration of our arrangement she didn’t cling, didn’t complain when I canceled plans, and was happy to take up space at family functions when I needed a date to prevent my mother from fixing me up with God-knows-who.” Sean flashed a wry smile. “The last guy my mother played matchmaker for is about to get hitched.”

Rebecca laughed. “You mean Caleb. My mom aided and abetted that Fourth of July matchmaking scheme. So, what kind of arrangement?”

“What?”

“You didn’t say you were in a relationship with Cynthia. You used the word ‘arrangement.’ What did you mean exactly?” Rebecca rested her arms on the table and leaned in, her eyes homed in on Sean’s in a laser stare. “C’mon, handsome. Dish.”

Well, shit
. He hadn’t meant to use that terminology--
arrangement
--although it was accurate, and damn her for being discerning enough to strip it down to that. Sean shifted in the booth, uncomfortable. They were talking about Rebecca and Nate, weren’t they? How had she turned the tables on him? And did she have any idea that, in this light, her eyes were the color of Ireland, or that a single spiraling curl, bright as burnished copper, had escaped the clippy thing and lay against her cheek just begging for a tug? His eyes dipped to her generous mouth and he looked away.
Idiot. Don’t go there.

He received a brief respite when Jonathan delivered the coffee and desserts, but as soon as the waiter disappeared Rebecca pushed. “C’mon, Sean. What kind of arrangement?”

Sean stared at her for a moment and decided to dive in. He’d tell the truth, and if she thought him to be an asshole, well, she sure as hell wouldn’t be the first.

“It’s pretty cliché. Friends with benefits, no strings, no drama. And when the arrangement ends, it just ends, no discussion, no questions, just goodbye.” He dug his fork into the tiramisu. “Those are the rules and it works for me, so don’t judge.”

“No strings, no drama, no questions. Just goodbye. Hmm.” Rebecca took a bite of the chocolate cannoli and closed her eyes. “Amigo, this is like heaven, nectar of the gods or something.”

“I know. That’s why I couldn’t decide. Here, try the tiramisu.” He forked a piece and held it out so Rebecca could taste it.

“Mm. It melts in your mouth.” Her eyes caught Sean’s and held. “Sean, you know, we could--”

He shook his head in a firm refusal. “No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

He raised his brows and whatever was in his eyes brought the blush creeping back into her cheeks. He leaned forward and made a “come here” gesture with his fingers. She blew out a breath and leaned toward the center of the table until they were nose to nose as they had been earlier. His voice was a low rumble. “We both know exactly what you were going to say, and as much as I’d love to peel you out of that little black dress, it isn’t happening.”

“If we--”

“No.”

“--had an arrangement--”

“No.”

Rebecca sat back in her seat. “But it’s perfect. It’s exactly what I’m looking for. More to the point, it’s all I have time for right now. It’s what I tried to set up with Nate but he wouldn’t listen, and you saw how that turned out.” She huffed out a breath that sent her errant curl flying and reminded Sean that he wanted to give it a tug just to watch it spring back into place. “Maybe I can run a personal ad or something.”

“You’d better be joking.”

She grinned. “Alas, I’m too discerning to advertise in the
Truheart County Times
. But I have to ask what makes me unworthy? You’re turning me down without consideration. If my self-esteem were less, I’d be crying in my martini glass. Fortunately for both of us, I know I rock.” She batted her lashes and teased a smile from him. “So what gives? Is it because I’m not buxom and blonde? Too much personality and Freaking Awesome for you?”

I never date a woman I could fall in love with
. The truth formed in his brain, but he would set himself on fire before saying it out loud. Instead, he kept his tone as light as hers.

“Stop fishing for compliments. You know I dream about you naked. But thanks to Cal and Maddie’s engagement, our families are practically joined at the hip. Did you know our mothers have cooked up a whole Kinkaid-Walker Thanksgiving? They’re talking about pulling both families together to go to the Christmas light display at Lanier, and Christmas Eve and Christmas dinner together. They’re even planning a Super Bowl party already, if you can believe that. We’ve got a lifetime of family gatherings ahead of us, Rebecca. Do you really think it’s wise to create static so early on?”

“What static? We’re talking an arrangement here, remember? No strings, no drama--oh, how I love the sound of that, no drama--no questions. When we end it, we end it, right? Isn’t that what you said? No questions, just goodbye. Still friends. So what’s the big deal?”

“You’re assuming we won’t screw things up somehow. I don’t want to spend the next sixty years feeling awkward at every holiday party because our arrangement somehow went south.”

“How can it go south? Isn’t that the whole point of the arrangement? To avoid all that awkward stuff?” Rebecca shrugged one shoulder, an elegant move that drew Sean’s eyes from her face to the smooth column of her throat. “Sorry. I’m being pushy and you’re clearly not interested. I’ll be embarrassed about this conversation tomorrow, but tonight the martinis are hard at work on my inhibitions.” The smile she shot his way lit her eyes and warmed him to the point of discomfort. “No worries, Counselor. Hey, do you want that last bite of tiramisu?” she asked, but didn’t wait for his answer before finishing it off.

“You ready to go?” Sean asked after she set down her fork.

Her eyes widened. “You’re kicking me out?”

Sean laughed. “No, I’m driving you home.”

She reached for her purse. “We have to pay the check.”

“No,” Sean said. “This is my go-to restaurant when I’m meeting a client for dinner and I already signed off on the bill. They send a monthly statement and Mrs. M pays it from the office expense account. Works just like magic.”

“You have an
M
at your office? So you’re just like James Bond, huh?”

“Give me a British accent and we’re practically twins.”

He helped Rebecca with her coat, set a generous tip on the table, and laid his hand at the small of her back to lead her to the lobby. He left her sitting on a bench, while he went outside to the valet stand, and returned a few moments later to wait with her.

“You bought Dante’s car!” Rebecca squealed when the valet delivered the classic 1968 Shelby Mustang convertible, top up, to the front of the restaurant.

“I did. Like any good Southern boy, I love my truck, but I needed something else for clients, and everybody loves this thing.”

“Who wouldn’t? It took Dante forever to restore this baby.” She slid into the passenger seat, buckled up, and slid her hand over the dash cluster, ran her fingers around the circular frame of the clock. “She’s pristine. You’re keeping her beautiful.”

“Dante would kill me if I didn’t.” The engine growled to life. “So where do you live?”

“In town, on Magnolia Street.”

“You kidding? I live one street over, on Dogwood.”

“I covet the houses on Dogwood--the Victorians. Which one is yours?”

“Seven-fifty-two. It only takes me about ten minutes to walk to the office every day. After what I’ve been used to in the past, I have to say I love the commute.”

“Lucky. Our office isn’t in town, so I have to drive. I love living in town, though. It’s small enough not to be crowded, and it’s convenient to be able to walk everywhere.”

“We live a block apart. How have we never run into each other?”

“Different lives,” Rebecca said, and yawned behind her hand.

They shared a quiet thirty-minute ride into Bright Hills where Christmas decorations brightened the quaint downtown area. Ornamental snowflakes the size of basketballs hung on the streetlights and glowed from within. The streetlights themselves through the center of town sported garland and festive candy-cane bows, and the storefronts contained myriad holiday displays that ran the gamut from Rudolph and Frosty to Nativity reproductions.

Other books

Hoaley Ill-Manored by Declan Sands
The Unseen by Zilpha Keatley Snyder
The Kennedy Half-Century by Larry J. Sabato
The Memory Child by Steena Holmes
A Desirable Husband by Frances Vernon
Pass The Parcel by Rhian Cahill
A Cat Of Silvery Hue by Adams, Robert
ARC: Cracked by Eliza Crewe