Season for Love (21 page)

Ridiculously flattered, Carolina linked her hands around his neck. “Is that so?”

Nodding, he lowered his head for another soft, seductive kiss.
 

“Seamus?”

“Hmmm?” He was sprinkling kisses on her face with immaculate attention to detail.

“If we do…
this
…”

That drew a chuckle from him.

“I want you to know…”

“What, love?”

“It can’t be anything more.”

He stopped short and stared down at her, his eyes heated and intense. “Why do you say that?”

“You’re so young,” she said, sliding her hands over his shoulders. “Your whole life is in front of you. You’ll want a family and children—”

He stopped her with another kiss, this one deep and hot. “Don’t tell me what I want,” he said softly but firmly. “I’m a grown man who knows himself as well as it’s possible to know oneself.”

Surprised by the kiss as much as what he’d said, she fumbled to find the words.

Before she could say anything, though, he was kissing her neck and she was squirming beneath him, needing more. Much, much more.
 

“And what I want,” he said, the sweep of his breath on her sensitive skin causing goose bumps to erupt on her arms and legs, “what I’ve wanted since the first time I saw you, is this.” He settled between her legs, pushing the hard column of his substantial erection into her heated core.

Carolina gasped and arched into him.

Suddenly, he stopped, pulled away from her and stood. He extended his hand to help her up. “There’s a nice, soft bed in the other room. Will you come with me, lovely Carolina?”

She stared at that outstretched hand as all the many reasons this might be a very bad idea fled from her mind. Linking her fingers with his, she let him lead her from the room. When he took her past her son’s bedroom and into the guest room, the gesture had Carolina realizing with crystal clarity that she could very easily fall in love with this kind, thoughtful, charming,
sexy
Irishman—and that would probably be a disaster for both of them.
 

Evan woke to relentless banging on the door. Grace was long gone to work, and he was in no rush to get up, so he snuggled in deeper to the pillow, hoping whoever it was would take the hint and go away.

More pounding. “I know you’re in there, boy. Open up!”

Ned? What the hell?

Evan dragged himself out of bed, pulled on a pair of boxers and ran his fingers through his unruly hair as he made his way to the door and tugged it open to face his father’s best friend.

Ned scowled at him. “Waddaya doin’ still in bed at ten o’clock?” He wore a ratty old sweater over faded jeans and boat shoes held together with duct tape. To look at him, you’d never know he was one of the wealthiest men on the island. His mane of white hair had been somewhat tamed, and his blue eyes were sharp as he took in Evan’s disheveled appearance.

“I was up late last night.” Evan decided it was better not to think about what he’d been doing with Grace until the wee hours, or he might embarrass himself. “What’re you doing here?”

“I wanna talk to ya.” Carrying a tray with two cups of coffee and a white bag, Ned pushed past him into the loft. “Put some pants on, fer Christ’s sake.”

“Come in, why doncha?” Evan said, annoyed and amused at the same time.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Evan closed the door, reached for a pair of discarded jeans on the floor and put them on, leaving the button undone. He gratefully accepted the coffee Ned handed him and took a sip. “Mmm, that’s good.”

“Cream and two sugars, right?”

“You got it.” His stomach growled. “What’s in the bag?”

“Blueberry muffins. I sure do miss my marina donuts in the off-season.”

“I’m sure your heart doesn’t miss them.”

“My heart is in perfect working order.”

“Is that Francine’s doing?” Evan asked with a grin.

Ned blushed like a schoolboy. “That ain’t none a yer damned business.”

Evan hooted with laughter at Ned’s embarrassment. “When are you two going to make it official?”

At that, Ned’s expression darkened. “We can’t get rid of her dirtbag ex-husband. He’s demanding to spend time with the girls. Tiffany did it, but Maddie ain’t up fer it, and we got no intention of forcing her. Far as we’re concerned, it’s already official.”

“Sorry to hear that about the ex. He sounds like a real winner.”

“Don’t get me started.”

Evan broke the top off the still-warm muffin and devoured it in two big bites. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

“I got a business proposition fer ya.”

“Is that right?”

“Yep. I’m gettin’ sick of watchin’ ya mope around waitin’ fer news from Nashville.”

Evan sat up straighter. “Now, wait a second—”

“Hear me out, boy,” Ned said in a gentler tone. “It’s hard on all of us watchin’ ya suffer. Yer mama and daddy are worried aboutcha, yer brothers, Grace.”

“I don’t want anyone worried about me,” Evan said, losing interest in the muffin.

“Too late.” Ned put down his coffee and leaned in, elbows propped on knees. “Here’s what I think we oughta do about it. I think we oughta open our own recording studio right here on the island.”

Flabbergasted, Evan stared at the older man who’d been like a second father to him. “You wanna run that by me one more time?”

“You and Owen, ya know a lotta people in the business, people like the two of ya who’ve been performing for years but never caught a break. I’ve been readin’ about a coupla singers who got real lucky posting their stuff to that iMusic and You Movie and found an audience.”

Evan held back a laugh as Ned butchered the names of the sites.
 

“So I gets to thinkin’, why can’t the boys do that right here? We set up the studio, you guys bring in the talent, record yer own stuff and post it out there fer people ta buy.”

Evan continued to stare at the older man as if he’d lost his mind. “Do you have any idea how much it costs to set up a recording studio?”

“About two hundred fifty grand or so, if my research is correct.”

“And where do you propose I get two hundred fifty grand to open this so-called recording studio?”

“I’ll give it to ya.”

“
What?
Have you totally lost what’s left of your mind? You can’t give me a quarter of a million bucks like it’s lunch money.”

“Why not? Yer gonna get it after I’m gone, so why can’t I give it to ya now, when ya need some direction in yer life, and I can watcha make somethin’ of it?”

“Get it when you’re gone? What does that mean?”

“Who do ya think my heirs are, ya nitwit? I ain’t got no kids of my own. So you, yer brothers, yer sister and now Francine, Maddie and Tiffany will get it all. And there’s a lot to get.” He shrugged self-consciously. “This is somethin’ I wanna do. It’s somethin’ I think you and Owen can make a go of. It’d keep ya here on the island with yer lady—where I think ya wanna be—and it would keep ya off the stage, where ya don’t wanna be.”

Evan had no idea what to say. How did Ned have this all figured out when Evan couldn’t even get himself out of bed in the morning? And how the hell did he know about the stage fright? Evan had told only Grace about that, and she’d never repeat it. He and his siblings had long suspected the guy was psychic or something, and this was further proof. “I, um, have no idea what’s involved with recording music. I do the singing.”

“Doncha know people who do? Couldn’t ya get ’em out here to teach ya?”

Running his fingers through his hair, Evan got up to pace the small kitchen.
 

“Well, doncha?”

“Yeah, I suppose I do.”

“And doncha know all kinds of singers and musicians who never got a break who might be interested in tryin’ something new?”

Evan nodded as a spark of interest and excitement began to take root inside him.
 

“Y’all could create one of them”—Ned waved his hand as he searched for the term—“artist communities right here on the island.”

“I don’t know, Ned. You’re talking about a huge investment of time.”

“And do ya got so many better things to do at the moment?”

Hands on his hips, Evan met Ned’s challenging gaze.

“Well, do ya?”

“No.”

“All right, then.”

“I can’t take that kind of money from you.”

“Ya ain’t
takin’
it. Think of it as an investment. We’ll be partners. I’ll be silent, of course.”

Evan raised an eyebrow.

“What? I
will
be silent.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“Believe whatcha want. If yer interested in this, I’ll finance it. If you ain’t interested, no harm, no foul.”

“I’ll need to talk to Owen.”

“I’d expect ya would.”

“Can I get back to you?”

“I ain’t going nowhere.” Ned got up and put his empty coffee cup in the trash.

“Ned?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. I’m truly overwhelmed that you would’ve given this so much thought and come up with such an…
intriguing
…idea.”

Ned patted Evan’s face affectionately. “I wanna see ya back on track, boy. It ain’t nothin’.”

“Yes, it is.”

Ned shrugged off the praise. “Let me know whatcha decide.”

Evan walked him to the door. “I will.” He watched Ned bound down the stairs with the pep of a man half his age. He drove off in his cab with a toot and a wave.

Evan closed the door and leaned back against it, his heart racing with adrenaline and excitement and a healthy dose of skepticism that kept him from getting too far ahead of himself. Could they really make something like this work?

Pushing off the door, he headed for the shower, anxious to get cleaned up and go find Grace. He needed to know what she thought of the idea before he did anything else.
 

Laura awoke with a start. She’d been dreaming about falling, spinning through space with nothing to break her fall. All at once, she became aware that she was sleeping in Owen’s arms. His familiar scent and the steady beat of his heart under her ear calmed and soothed her. Then she remembered what had happened the night before, and she started to pull away from him.

“Stay,” he whispered. “Just for a minute.”

Reluctantly, Laura returned her head to his chest but couldn’t seem to relax into his embrace the way she usually did. At what point during the night had she moved across the bed to him? Justin was right. She couldn’t do anything by herself. Even sleep. The thought disgusted her.

Owen ran his hand over her back in a soothing rhythm. “What’re you thinking about, Princess?”

The nickname she’d once loved now rankled. “Nothing.”

“Come on. I know better than that. You’re always thinking about something.”

Laura wished that wasn’t the case. She wanted to turn off her brain and forget about the ugly encounter with Justin. The desire to unsubscribe from her thoughts reminded her of the weeks after her mother died when she’d been desperate to stop the merry-go-round of painful memories. She’d learned then that there was no way around these things, only straight through them to the other side, as painful as that might be.

“I’m sorry about last night,” she finally said. “I totally punched out on you.”

“Don’t be sorry, honey. I don’t want you to worry about me. Let’s focus on what you need right now, okay?”

“You’re too good to me.”

“We’re good to each other. That’s what it’s all about.”

His kind words brought tears to her eyes. She closed them, trying to contain the flood.
 

“Whatever he said to you,” Owen continued in a soft, soothing tone, “it doesn’t matter.
He
doesn’t matter and neither do his opinions. If you let him get to you, he wins.”

“I know.” She brushed at the dampness on her face. “I need to call my dad. He’ll be wondering what happened.”

He nudged her hand out of the way and finished the cleanup job for her. “I talked to him last night. He said to tell you to call whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you for thinking of that.”

“No problem.” Owen’s lips were soft against her forehead. “Do you want to talk about it? Maybe if you let it out, you can let it go.”

Laura didn’t want to talk about it—now or ever—but Owen had been so good and so patient. She couldn’t allow her mess to cause him unnecessary pain. “He… He implied the baby wasn’t his.”

Owen’s entire body went rigid. “
What?
I hope that’s when you smacked him.”

Laura couldn’t help but laugh. “You saw that, huh?”

“Um, the whole place saw it—and heard it.”

“Good. It was the least of what he deserved.”

“What an awful thing to say. I’m sorry you had to hear that, honey.”