“I wanted to see this amazing studio you’ve been gushing about.” His dubious gaze scanned the clutter of construction tools. “I guess it’s a work in progress.”

  She followed his gaze to the back wall of the building and settled on Finn. She frowned slightly at the closed stare on his face where he crouched, sealing the threshold of the last door.

  “You should have seen it a couple of days ago. The new staircase is in, and we’re just finishing the French doors. Isn’t it fabulous?” Linking her arm through Evan’s, she pulled him toward the back of the room. “Come on. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  Finn rose as they approached.

  “Finn. This is my friend and agent, Evan Malone. Evan, Michael Finnegan.”

  Evan nodded and stuck out his hand. Finn wiped his palm across his dusty T-shirt before shaking Evan’s hand. A wrinkle of confusion marred Evan’s brow beneath his wheat colored hair.

  “Nice to meet you. I was at the Giants game five years ago when you drilled that pass into the end zone to steal the game, and our playoff hopes, with two seconds left.”

  “Mullen made a great catch.” Finn shrugged his broad shoulders and gave the credit to his favorite tight-end.

  Evan’s gaze flicked to Cara before returning to Finn. “I never would have expected to find an all-pro quarterback installing hardware, but then, when Cara is involved, nothing surprises me.”

  Cara rolled her eyes. “Finn is my contractor. The finished woodwork you see around here is his work.”

  Evan’s golden brown eyes passed over the woodwork. “I’m impressed.”

  “So was I.” Cara smiled softly at Finn. “I browbeat him until he agreed to help me get this place into shape.”

  He didn’t respond to her gentle teasing as she expected. Instead, he spoke in a clipped tone. “We’re about done for today.” He slipped the hammer into the belt at his waist, his focus dropping to her fingers, still wrapped around Evan’s arm, before his eyes rose to meet hers. “We’ll be back in the morning to clean up and finish. You’ll have your studio in working shape by the time the anniversary celebration begins, but the floors will still be tacky, so I wouldn’t suggest throwing open your doors to the mob.”

  “Anniversary celebration?” Evan glanced between them.

  “The town turns two hundred fifty tomorrow.” Distracted, she spoke to Evan without glancing away from Finn. He’d made it clear he didn’t want anything to do with tomorrow’s festivities, but she thought he had put his anger behind him. “This is my private studio, Finn. I hadn’t planned on opening it to the public, tomorrow or any other day.”

  He responded with a neutral grunt.

  Evan patted her hand resting on his arm and smiled down into her face. “If the pieces she’s already shipped to me are an indication of the type of work this place inspires, then I say any investment she’s made will be well worth it.”

  “We aim to please.” Finn bared his teeth in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Bob Burns called down to him from the landing above, interrupting them. Finn left to climb the stairs with a muttered, “Excuse me.”

  “You liked the canvases?” she asked Evan as she followed Finn’s progress up the stairs.

  “I’ve already had an offer on Unforeseen Consequences. Do you want to talk about it?”

  She knew he was talking about the painting, and not the offer, but she was still just as confused as she’d been that afternoon when she finally spoke to her father. Finn’s perplexing moodiness forgotten for the moment, she leaned her head against Evan’s shoulder. “No, I don’t. I’ve missed you, Evan.”

  Evan’s gaze lifted to Finn as he descended the stairs and began gathering up tools for the day. When he glanced back at her, his smile was dubious.

  “From the looks of things around here, you haven’t had time to miss me.”

  “I have been a little busy.” She cursed the blush heating her cheeks.

  “Have dinner with me,” he said suddenly. “I’m in town to meet with an artist in the Back Bay.” He twisted his wrist to check his watch. “I’ll be an hour, but free the rest of the evening.”

  “Seven sharp, tomorrow,” Finn called out as he and Bob passed by. “We’ll be resealing the hardwood first thing, so find somewhere to store your stuff.”

  He bent to heft a circular saw before heading for the door.

  “Cara.” Evan drew her attention though her eyes stayed on Finn. “Shall I wait, or will you meet me downtown?”

  “I’ll meet you. Where?”

  “I’m at the Four Seasons.” Curling a finger under her chin, he turned her until he could drop a kiss on her mouth. “Eight o’clock good for you?” She nodded. His gaze cut to the door and Finn. “It was good to meet you, Finn.”

  “Same here.” Finn shut the door behind him with a thud.

  Evan rounded on her. “Michael Finnegan is your contractor?”

  “It’s a long story.” She stared at the closed door with her heart pounding in her chest. He seemed so angry. Could he be jealous? Jealous of Evan? The possibility sent a tickling thrill up her spine.

  “I’m sure it is.” Evan checked his watch. “I’ve got a few minutes. Let’s hear it.”

  Her smile was wide with giddy excitement. Laughing, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed a smacking kiss to his cheek. “I really have missed you, Evan.”

  ****

  Finn yanked the saw from the bed of the pickup with restrained violence. He’d recognized that man’s type the moment Evan Malone stepped through the door. The thousand-dollar, oatmeal colored suit screamed money, while the lean build and patrician appearance whispered sophistication. He’d added predator to his mental list of adjectives describing Cara’s agent when he glared into Evan Malone’s golden brown eyes. The man was no harmless trust fund playboy.

  He now knew the identity of Cara’s one and only other lover. He hadn’t needed to see Cara throw herself into the man’s arms to know they shared more than simple friendship. Malone didn’t look at her with the eyes of a friend. His were the eyes of a man who had tasted her sweetness and thirsted for more. The vision of the handsome agent pressing a kiss to Cara’s mouth burned on the screen of Finn’s mind, and he did his best to ignore the surge of jealousy blasting through him.

  He had no business getting bent out of shape. He had no claim on her, and it was only a matter of time when he’d have no contact with her either, other than that of neighbor. They’d be living in the same town, and a woman who looked the way she did...Well, he’d better get used to seeing her with other men.

  The idea made him want to rip something apart, or someone. He fought the overwhelming urge to drive back over to her studio and snatch her away from her friend. He’d let Malone know in no uncertain terms that Cara O’Shea was his.

  Unfortunately, that was a lie. This relationship between them wouldn’t last. It was time he accepted that truth. He slammed the tailgate on the truck and carried the saw inside.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Cara climbed the steps of the library wearing a sappy smile. Jealous! A warm flame sparked in her belly. Finn had nothing to be jealous about, and she’d explain that to him, but in the meantime, she couldn’t help being thrilled at the possibility he might care more than he let on.

  He may not be in love with her, but he cared, and caring could develop into love, with a little time. She was no longer a shy kid, afraid to speak up and cause a scene. She loved Michael Finnegan with all her heart and she wanted more than just a short term affair. It was time she told him.

  And if hearing she loved him sent him running? Well, then...she’d just have to kill him.

  She hummed as she opened the library doors. The building would be closing for the night in just a few minutes, so she hurried to the romance section to select a book to replace the one she returned. Maybe she’d find something she could read aloud to Finn.

  She shook her head and grinned. A month with Finn the Fine and she had turned into a shameless hussy!

  Her grin faded when she recognized the quiet voice of a woman two rows away in the young adult aisle. Cara’s fingers gripped the binding of the paperback she pulled from the shelf. Meggy had mentioned Hannah volunteered at the library two afternoons a week, but Cara had forgotten.

  “Here it is,” she heard Hannah say. “It’s a true story. I think you’ll find it has some similarities with your own.”

  “Have you read it?” a young voice asked.

  “Yes, I have. It’s well written and covers some of the struggles and emotions that come with discovering you’re adopted.”

  “Were you adopted?”

  “No, I wasn’t.”

  The girl was quiet for a moment. “Were you a birth mother? I want to meet mine eventually.”

  Cara stood paralyzed between the shelves of books. She held her breath, waiting for Hannah to deny the question.

  “I gave up a child for adoption, yes. She was placed with a wonderful family, just as you were. I’m sure your birth mother would be thrilled to know how happy you are with your adoptive family.”

  Cara couldn’t breathe. Abandoning the book she’d selected, she slipped down the aisle between towering shelves and rushed passed the counter at the front of the library. She shoved open the double glass doors. Gulping air like a landed fish, she staggered out into the early evening sunlight, scrambling down the steps to the parking lot and her vehicle. Her hands shook, and she fumbled with the lock before climbing inside.

  Pulling the truck door closed behind her, she rested her forehead on the steering wheel. Horrifying possibilities thundered in her head. Hannah had given up a child for adoption? Oh God, Daddy! Had the child been his? Did he know about it?

  How long Cara sat there, running the possibilities through her head, she didn’t know. The beep of her cell phone, signaling a text message, interrupted the fury of questions scrambling her brain. She glanced through the window, ignoring the message. Her hands clenched on the steering wheel at seeing Hannah exiting the library to walk to her own car. Cara sat forward and fought with the keys until she found the right one. She shoved the key into the ignition and twisted. Shifting the Jeep into drive, she pulled from the parking lot.

  A block away, Hannah swung into a parking space in front of her father’s accounting agency and went inside. Cara searched for an empty spot, finding one three doors down. She parked, jumped from her vehicle, and on shaking legs, hurried through the front door of her father’s office.

  Tom sat at his big desk, visible through the open door. He glanced up when Cara entered, a surprised smile lighting his face. A moment later, the smile evaporated. He jumped to his feet and walked around his desk.

  “What’s happened? Is it Mary?”

  “Tom?” Hannah emerged from the back room with a stack of files in her arms. She stumbled to a stop when she spotted Cara.

  “What’s the matter, Cara?” Tom repeated, exiting his office.

  Cara only had eyes for Hannah. “You had a child?”

  Files flew and scattered on the floor at Hannah’s feet. Her hands flew to her mouth to cover the cry she didn’t quite prevent. Her frantic gaze jerked to Tom’s, whose face went as pale as his wife’s.

  “Let’s go in my office, Cara.”

  Cara ignored him, intent on getting an answer from Hannah. “You had a child you gave up for adoption? I was in the library. I heard you!”

  “That’s enough, Cara.” Tom reached for her arm. She stumbled back, avoiding his touch.

  “No, it’s not enough, Daddy. You wanted me to know what happened. Well, I’m asking for an explanation now. Did you…” She stopped to catch her sobbing breath. “Oh, God. Did you have a child you put up for adoption or not?”

  Tears dripped down Hannah’s cheeks. Cara’s knees buckled. She locked them tight as Tom slipped his arm around Hannah’s shoulders and hugged her protectively to his side. He turned haunted eyes on Cara. “Hannah was pregnant when her family sent her away.”

  Cara moaned at the affirmation and shuffled backward until the back of her knees made contact with the waiting room couch. She dropped onto it.

  Hannah slumped against the desk with her face in her hands while Tom crouched down in front of Cara.

  “They took Hannah away, Cara. And when the baby was born, they took her away, too. She was given to a private adoption lawyer to be placed with a family here in the states.”

  “Her?” Cara’s croak was barely audible.

  Unshed tears shimmered in his eyes. “We had a daughter, Cara. And they stole her from us.”

  She glanced over his shoulder. Hannah’s face was pale and damp with tears. “Why did you come to Palmerton, Hannah?”

  Hannah raised her chin. “I came to be near my daughter.”

  “She’s here?” Cara cried. “She’s here in Palmerton?” Her eyes flew to Tom. “Why didn’t you tell us? I have a sister? Shan and Erin.” She gulped. “We have a sister somewhere in Palmerton, and you didn’t think we would want to know?”

  “And what was I supposed to tell you? We assume she doesn’t know about us, much less you or your sisters. The situation was complicated enough without involving anyone else.”

  The adamancy of his claim brought Cara up short. He was right, of course. But, God, she had another sister.

  “How did you find her? There are laws surrounding adoption that make it almost impossible for birth parents to find children who haven’t initiated contact.”

  He straightened from his crouch and joined Hannah, who answered Cara’s question.

  “I never had anything to do with my family after what they did to your father and me. When I reached my twenty-fifth birthday I gained access to my trust fund. I used that money to buy the information.”

  “And you never contacted her? You just moved here and skulked around the edges of her life?”

  “That’s enough, Cara.” Tom frowned.

  Hannah placed a hand on his arm. “She was already seven years old by the time I tracked her down and settled here in Palmerton. Her adoptive parents are good people, and they have done nothing wrong to deserve our interference. There have been enough lives ripped apart because I was too much of a coward to fight my family. I’m content to be able to see her, and to know she’s happy.”

  “Who is she?”

  “She hasn’t tried to find us, Cara.” Tom shoved a weary hand through his hair. “Contacting her now would cause her and her adoptive parents heartache. Haven’t we all suffered enough already? Let it go.”

  The sadness in his voice made Cara’s stomach hurt. Her eyes stung with tears as he clutched Hannah’s hand as though it were a lifeline. Staggered by the revelations, she could only imagine what it must have been like for them to carry their grief for so many years. Suddenly, she was so tired she could barely move. She forced herself to stand. Walking to her father, she kissed his cheek.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

  He lifted his free hand to cup her cheekbone. “Cara, mine.”

  Her gaze moved to Hannah. Cara didn’t know what to say. So much of her unhappiness had been placed at Hannah’s feet, and while Cara couldn’t completely forgive either of them for what they had done, she also couldn’t blame them or hold on to her anger anymore.

  “I’m sorry, Hannah,” she whispered, before turning and leaving them alone in their grief.

  ****

  Finn tossed his keys onto the Queen Anne table in the spacious entryway of his Beacon Hill penthouse. The place smelled of emptiness, despite the efforts of the cleaning crew he knew would have been here this morning.

  He stopped at the wet bar and poured a tumbler full of whiskey before sliding open the glass door leading to the balcony. Leaning a hip against the wrought iron railing, he sipped at the burning liquid.

  Ten flights below, streetlights began to flicker on. Beyond the skyline in the distance, the sun dipped below the horizon, bringing night to Bean Town.

  Jamming his fingers through his hair, which should have been trimmed weeks ago, he tried to understand just when his life got so damned screwed up. The underlying despair and desperation he had been living with for far too long hadn’t begun with Cara O’Shea’s return. His life was a mess long before he walked into Maive’s parlor a month earlier. Nor had it begun with Andrea’s stunning pronouncement that she no longer loved him and was heading on to more exciting adventures.

  The DVD down the hall in the media room documented the exact moment when his life had gone to shit. He had watched the recording so often he could run the clip through his mind even now, without aid of modern technology. The moment he’d taken the freak hit to his knee in the second game of his sixth season in Tampa, his charmed life had come crashing down around him.

  He’d been a ball player his entire life, and the second he felt the hit, he knew he would never play again. The one thing he had been able to count on was ripped away in the blink of an eye. Without football, what was left?

  Not family. He watched his mother fade away while his father clung desperately to her slender fingers. He then watched his father follow her not long afterward. And certainly not marriage—Andrea proved their marriage a fleeting fantasy when she walked out without a backward glance.

  He swallowed another sip, welcoming the burning in his throat. If he was honest, he couldn’t even fault Andrea for skipping out the way she did. He’d been so crushed by the loss of his career, so mired in his own broken dreams, he had shut down. Restless, yet uninterested in what the future held, he simply stopped caring. He was surprised she stayed as long as she had.

  She’d probably done him a favor by beating him to the punch. The direct hit to his ego finally pulled him out of his lethargy, at least on a basic level. The only real relief he knew from the demon of restlessness that had taken over his charmed life, had been the constant flow of women, but even that faded over time.

  He’d filled his life with women, travel, and sponsorships, always moving on to the next challenge before the current one fell apart. He made more money than he could spend in two lifetimes, but he hadn’t been truly happy since the moment his opponent’s shoulder connected with his knee.

 

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