Cara O'Shea's Return, page 2
part #1 of Small Town New England Series
“He loves the game and Doug is beside himself with pride,” she said of her husband. “He has dreams of watching him play in the big leagues.”
“Finn.” Maive bumped his thigh with an elbow. “Have you met Mary O’Shea’s middle daughter, Cara?”
Cobalt blue beams shifted to Cara, and she nearly cringed at the palpable memory shining in them. His smile easy, he spoke in a subtle rumble.
“We’ve had the pleasure. Hello, Cara.”
“Hello.” Fighting the flush of remembered humiliation heating her cheeks, she returned the greeting stiffly. She slid her gaze back to Maive, and relative safety. The old lady came to her rescue, craning her neck to aim a sly smile up at Finn.
“I just sold her the old book store.”
Finn’s head whipped around.
“You sold it?” He popped up from his slouched position, his back going poker straight. “I tried to buy it from you not two months ago. You said it wasn’t for sale.”
“It wasn’t, then.”
“But it is now?” Icy intenseness replaced his charming smile. “How much do you want for it?”
Maive cackled a laugh. “You’ll have to ask the O’Shea girl. She owns it now.”
Calculation hardened his features when he turned to study Cara.
She was at a complete loss. Technically, she hadn’t bought the place. She didn’t even know what she’d have to pay for it. Yet for some reason, known only to Maive Cataldo, the old lady was having the time of her life, denying Finn the property.
Far be it from her to contradict the dragon lady. A burst of satisfied excitement cooled the heated flush on Cara’s cheeks. The bookstore was hers and she’d be keeping it. She informed him of that fact before he could open his mouth. “It’s not for sale.”
Maive’s wrinkled face twisted into a satisfied smirk, and she nodded her approval.
“That’s just wrong, Maive.”
Maive dismissed his grumbled complaint with the wave of a gnarled hand. “You’d have it for a simple investment property. You have plenty of those. The girl needs a place to work and to lay her head. She’s a famous artist now, you know. She needs a good working space.”
Cara met his frown with a lift of her chin and a satisfied smile that said that’s right, pal.
Rising from the arm of the settee, he crossed tanned, well-muscled arms over his equally impressive chest. He settled into a cocky stance with his weight resting on one hip.
“Ryan said you were in town for his and Erin’s wedding. I’m his best man. We’ll be walking together.” The smile died on her lips. “He didn’t mention you’ve come back for good.” Trepidation tickled her spine when his smile widened and his blue laser eyes ran over her contemplatively. “Welcome back to Palmerton, neighbor.”
Chapter Three
Damn, she was beautiful.
Seeing her again verified what he’d noted at their chance meeting in Manhattan, several years earlier. Cara O’Shea had grown up, and maturity only increased the beauty with which she’d been blessed.
Even as a teenager, she had a certain something. A powerful, invisible force, like irresistible pheromones reaching out to grab a man by the libido. And it wasn’t just her looks, though damn...her height alone would draw attention. Six-foot beauties were hard to ignore, but beyond her height and sultry allure, she emitted a shy innocence that tugged at a man’s protective instincts, urging him to wrap her in his arms and keep her safe.
Her dark auburn hair, piled atop her head in a messy knot, made his fingers itch to plunge into the fiery curls. Her large eyes, as green as an antique pop bottle, could cause a man to forget what he was saying. They dominated her stunning face and the flash of dismay in them, when he told Maive they’d met, tugged at the memory of their first meeting, nearly a decade earlier.
Her eyes flashed with a similar panic that day as rivulets of pool water splashed to the deck from her nearly transparent dress. She’d been beautiful then, too. Beautiful and scared.
The idiot high school boys surrounding him hadn’t noticed the fear. Not that he could blame them. There wasn’t a man alive, young or old, who wouldn’t have been blinded by the magnificence of her tender young body, shivering in the late spring air.
Hell, he’d already been a man full grown, and she just a girl, and yet he hadn’t been able to look away from her bring-a-man-to-his-knees body. When his bewitched mind finally cleared enough to note the cruel taunts of the young men, he was disgusted, with them and himself. And when she met his gaze across the distance of the pool, the terror and humiliation in her eyes made him want to strangle someone.
Little more than a child, she faced an unbearable embarrassment with a quiet dignity he’d never forgotten. Married at the time, he wouldn’t have done anything about the instant attraction churning in his gut, even if he had been single. She was just a kid, after all. But, she wasn’t a kid now.
Though she’d all but stolen the bookstore right out from under his nose, he knew where to lay the blame. The building’s Central Street location made it ideal for a youth community center. If he had told Maive what he had in mind, she would have sold to him no questions asked. But, as usual, he’d been enjoying the cat and mouse maneuvering with his strong willed great-aunt. Selling to someone else was a move he never anticipated.
The girl who stared down a mob of idiotic teenage boys wouldn’t be an easy nut to crack, and from the satisfied gleam in her eyes, convincing the woman she’d become to give up the bookstore was a long shot.
Still, he welcomed the quickening of his pulse. Romancing the beautiful artist, with an eye toward winning back his building was a challenge he couldn’t resist.
****
“Did you know Michael Finnegan was Ryan Espizitto’s cousin and his best man?”
Across the booth, Meggy Calhoun paused with her slice of pizza midair. “Actually, I did.”
“Were you going to tell me, or were you just going to let me walk in blind to the fact that I am going to have to put up with him for several hours on Saturday?”
Her friend’s pixie like face contorted in a grimace. “Not to mention Friday night at the rehearsal dinner.”
Cara dropped her head into her hands.
Meggy leaned on her elbows. “By the way, I won’t be there Friday night. We’re short staffed. I have to work.”
Cara groaned.
“It won’t be that bad, Cara.”
“He was there that night, Meggy.” Cara glanced up, hoping the familiar haunting the memory delivered didn’t show in her eyes.
“There were a lot of people there. Besides, it was a long time ago. He probably doesn’t remember.”
She would like to believe that, but couldn’t. She never told Meggy about bumping into Finn shortly before his divorce, but like every other encounter she had with Palmerton’s football hero, the meeting left a lasting impression. She’d been too flustered to notice at the time, but he had greeted her by name that night.
And she knew exactly when he’d learned her name.
Without ever having met, never having spoken a word, she and Finn shared the second worst moment of her life. The worst moment happened only hours earlier, on the afternoon of her high school graduation, when she spotted her father slipping into the motel on the edge of town with his secretary, Hannah Dunn.
Heartsick, and wanting nothing more than to find a quiet place to cry out her broken heart, she let Meggy convince her to go ahead with their plans to visit several graduation parties that evening. Though she’d always avoided the drunken gatherings the other kids claimed were so much fun, she gulped down the first beer someone handed her and by the time they arrived at Brad Murphy’s back yard, she was more than a little tipsy.
At Meggy’s heels, she passed through the open gate, following her friend to one of the tables by the edge of the pool where several friends were seated. Meggy sat, immediately drawn into conversation. Swaying a bit, Cara stood to the side, her gaze roaming the raucous crowd. Her eyes immediately caught on a dark head of blue-black hair beyond the pool, rising above the surrounding group of teenage boys.
Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest, and a familiar flock of butterflies took flight in her belly. From the age of eleven, she’d lived for glimpses of Palmerton’s famous football hero. When he’d left town after graduation, she followed his college career and hadn’t missed a game or interview once he’d been drafted by Tampa and had gone pro, but three years had passed since she’d seen him in person.
The gray Boston College T-shirt stretched across his powerful chest and showcased the mouthwatering musculature of his tanned biceps. His long legs were encased in a pair of time-faded jeans and his face, when he turned her way, was still the most beautiful she’d ever seen.
Caught up in the sheer joy of soaking up the sight of a live and in person Finn, she jolted when a hand landed on her arm. Her balance impaired, she staggered. Big hands caught her, holding her steady. She blinked up into the eyes of Timmy Faulkner, the bane of her high school existence.
“Whoa there. Living up to your name tonight, Cara Cups?”
His sneering smile made her stomach churn, and her voice came out a husky whisper. “Leave me alone.”
His rough fingers, wrapped around her arms, made her skin crawl. She twisted in an effort to free herself. He let her struggle for a moment, leaning closer. Shuddering at the thought of bodily contact, she stumbled back a step. His eyes flashed with cruel intent as he released her with a quick shove.
Her arms cart-wheeled and the ground beneath her feet suddenly vanished. She landed with a cold splash. Moments later, she surfaced in the pool to find Timmy standing on the deck, bent at the waist, beside himself with laughter.
“Help her out!”
Meggy’s furious demand echoed through the now silent party. Two sets of male hands grasped Cara beneath the arms and wrenched her out of the water. Her rescuers set her on her feet, where she stood dripping and shivering.
“Are you okay, Cara?”
She couldn’t answer, despite the concern in Meggy’s voice. All around Brad Murphy’s back yard, avid faces stared at Cara. The party had come to a complete standstill. Even the music seemed to have quieted.
Horrified, her gaze flew to the corner of the patio where Finn stood. Sure enough, his blue laser eyes met hers as if he’d been waiting for her to turn his way.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t escape his steady stare until, through the buzz in her ears, the first snickering exclamation rocked her back on her heels.
“Now, those are tits!”
She tore her gaze from Finn’s to glance down, then wanted to vanish into the brick deck at her feet. The thin material of her pretty, yellow sundress stuck to her body like filmy, transparent skin. Her lacy silk bra and panties may as well have been invisible for all the modesty they provided.
A strangled cry escaped, despite her clenched teeth, and she plucked at the clinging material. Seconds later, she gave up the useless effort. Desperate, she attempted to cover strategic spots with her hands, even as her mind registered the mocking comments of Cara Cups and porn star.
Meggy snapped into action. Shoving passed the still laughing Timmy, she knocked him into the pool on her way to the closest football player to demand his player’s jacket. When Cara’s furious friend returned to bundle her into the coat, Cara couldn’t stop herself from looking back at Finn.
No expression showed on his face, but his blue eyes blazed with the same undisguised lust as the boys surrounding him. Still and unblinking, his eyes burned in the midst of laughter, the jabbing of elbows, and crude observations.
While Meggy zipped Cara into the warm jacket like a hovering mother, a chill washed over her, having nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the layer of ice forming around her battered dignity. No stranger to taunting insults from the boys at school, she steeled her heart against the humiliating remarks buzzing around her like angry bees. Chin held high, she refused to let any of them, including Finn, see her cringe with embarrassment.
Instead, she let her eyes go frigid, and welcomed the death of each and every one of those butterflies she’d carried within her for years. Dragging her gaze from Finn’s, she swept the rest of the crowd with a disdainful glance, before turning and walking away. She’d left town two days later, and with the exception of the occasional, quick, turnaround visit, she hadn’t looked back.
The events of that day destroyed her childhood self. She’d done her best to put the memories behind her, but she couldn’t ever forget, neither her father’s betrayal, nor her humiliation beside that pool. And from the shadows in Finn’s eyes in Maive’s parlor, he hadn’t forgotten either.
Not that it mattered. Some good came of the events of that long ago day and night. She emerged from the experience with a new to-hell-with-them-all attitude and while she occasionally mourned the trusting girl she left behind, she no longer tolerated anyone’s crap.
In the past eight years, she’d faced down bigger obstacles than Finn the Fine, and triumphed. No longer a shy seventeen-year-old in a transparent dress, she would survive sharing rubber chicken and toasts with the town stud, even if it killed her.
Chapter Four
“There’ll be swimming after the rehearsal. Don’t forget your suit.” Erin’s voice carried up the stairwell to Cara’s childhood bedroom in her mother’s house.
In a singsong voice, Cara called back. “I don’t think so.”
“But everyone will be swimming. You have to bring your suit.”
She leaned close to the mirror to attach a dangling earring, mumbling, “Not in this lifetime.” Makeup applied lightly, she wore her dark auburn hair down. It fell in riotous curls down her back. The long, floral, sheath dress was one of her favorites. She loved the dark green color, and the way the loose material muted the impact of her curves.
Grabbing her purse, she hurried downstairs.
Frustrated, yet gorgeous, Erin paced the hallway with her hands on her hips, her petite frame displayed to perfection in white linen drawstring pants and a fuchsia tank. A large tote hung from one shoulder. Her strawberry blonde hair was slicked back in a sophisticated knot, and her lips were pulled tight in a mulish frown.
“Don’t start.” Cara brushed by her.
Erin followed her outside, the heels of her sandals clicking on the walkway. “You always say that.”
“And you never listen. We’ll take my new car.” Cara stopped beside the dark Jeep Cherokee she’d purchased immediately upon landing back in Boston. She grinned across the hood and opened the door. “In case I need to escape.”
Erin slipped into the passenger seat with a huff. “I want you to have a good time tonight, Cara.”
With Daddy and Michael Finnegan in attendance? Fat chance! But she wasn’t about to ruin her sister’s night, so she tried to reassure her.
“I will. I promise. I just don’t have any interest in frolicking around in a pool with a bunch of strangers.”
“They’re not strangers.” Erin turned in her seat, her eyes pleading. “The town’s not that big. You’ll know most of them.”
“You’ll know most of them. I know many of the people in town by sight, not because we were friendly. I spent the majority of my childhood buried in the art department or with my nose in a book. Besides, I’ve been gone a long time.”
“Exactly,” Erin persisted. “But you’re back now and I want you to be happy so you’ll stay. You could make a few new friends tonight, if you let yourself.”
Cara laughed at Erin’s earnest expression. Her outgoing sister barreled through life, collecting people the way other women collected shoes, and whenever possible, took steps to see everyone else did the same. However, her tactics never worked with Cara.
“Relax, mommy. I have plenty of friends and I’m home to stay.”
Erin’s forehead wrinkled with a sheepish smile. “I’m hovering again, aren’t I?”
Cara patted her hand where it rested on top of her tote. “Yes, you are, but I love you anyway.”
Her sister chattered her excitement while Cara inhaled a deep breath to relax. Though wired from this morning’s meeting with Maive, she was also tired, and the idea of seeing Daddy tonight had her more anxious than she wanted to admit. And running into Finn in Maive’s parlor hadn’t helped.
What the hell was an ex-pro quarterback with a Super Bowl ring, a recurring spot on the Sunday morning sports shows, and a half dozen lucrative marketing contracts doing fixing an old lady’s steps? A tool belt, for crying out loud! The man looked like a six-foot five Mr. June in a hunk-of-the-month calendar.
His thick, black hair was longer than she ever remembered it being, finger-combed back from his broad forehead. The rough shadow of his chiseled jaw, darkened with a day’s growth of stubble, only increased the piercing blue of his eyes. Much to her chagrin, his body hadn’t gone to pot since he retired from professional sports. He still sported the superbly muscled form that had always made her heart flutter and throb.
And what was she doing, noticing how well his jeans fit his tight butt when he leaned to brush a kiss on Maive’s forehead? God, she must have some kind of hormonal imbalance when it came to Michael Finnegan. She was as bad as the countless women, hanging all over him on the covers of those rag magazines.
And damn it, she knew better. She hadn’t talked to Daddy in years for precisely the same reason she shouldn’t be noticing the breadth of Finn’s shoulders, straining the material of his T-shirt. She’d witnessed firsthand the kind of man he was and what he thought of his wedding vows that night she bumped into him in Manhattan.
Well, she had become a master at ignoring big, hunky men. Hadn’t Charles told her so on more than one occasion? All she had to do was make it through the rehearsal dinner tonight, and the wedding tomorrow, and then she’d be home free.
A group of men were tossing a football on the lawn of Ryan’s parent’s sprawling ranch house when they arrived. She heaved a relieved sigh that Finn wasn’t among them. Ryan broke away from the impromptu game to jog over and pull his fiancée from the passenger side.
