The Secret Son's Homecoming

Once he got home, Jonah ditched the suit, took a shower, changed into jeans, a sweater and lined jacket, pulled on his boots, made coffee and headed outside onto the small terrace. Tomorrow was Sunday and he planned on visiting his mother, but before that he had to drop by the hotel to catch up with Liam about the proposed extension plans for the local museum and art gallery. Kayla was the curator and Liam had provided most of the funding for the council-approved extension. Jonah knew he’d been offered the contract to solidify the family connection...but it was good business and he was no fool.

Once he finished the coffee, Jonah went back inside, grabbed a beer from the fridge and slumped onto the sofa. He grabbed the remote, flicked through a few channels and settled on a NASCAR event. The mindless drone of engines relaxed him and he settled back, perched his feet on the coffee table and dropped his head back and closed his eyes. He had the vague thought that he was done with weddings for a while. He’d never had any interest in getting married himself—at least, not yet. He’d never had a long-term relationship—no doubt a hang-up from his father’s lack of commitment to his wife and the double life he’d led for the past thirty years.

When he woke up it was two in the morning. He had a crick in his neck, the beer was untouched on the table and the neighbor’s cat was curled up on the sofa beside him. The damned feline often sneaked in and made himself comfortable on Jonah’s sofa, bed or lap. He belonged to the elderly woman in the downstairs apartment and was notorious for getting into trouble. Jonah had already rescued the cat twice when he’d gotten caught on top of the gazebo in the backyard.

Jonah got up, stretched out his limbs and then headed to bed. When he finally awoke it was past eight and he drank two cups of strong coffee to clear the fuzziness in his head, a feeling he blamed on the half a glass of celebratory wine he’d sipped at the reception and the resentment still churning in his gut. He dressed, made toast he didn’t eat and then headed into town.

Sunday mornings in Cedar River were quiet, except for the tourists milling at the few open coffeehouses and the bakery on Main Street. Of course, the hotel was open, and he pulled into a reserved space next to his brother’s recognizable Silverado. He drove a sedan when he was in town, mostly to annoy J.D., who insisted he needed an SUV and kept offering to buy him one to replace the Jeep Jonah had sold the minute he’d started college. Jonah headed for the main doors and the concierge greeted him by name. His connection to the O’Sullivan family was known around town and he couldn’t deny it at the hotel. Still, as he walked through the place, he experienced a familiar and acute sense of dishonor about who and what he was. It was J.D.’s shame, but in Cedar River, he always felt as though he wore it like a cattle brand.

The hotel was impressive and luxurious and as good as any found in a large city. It employed dozens of locals and the service was exemplary, no doubt due to Liam being at the helm. Apparently he’d turned the place around in the last five years, developing it into a true boutique destination, and it was hard not to admire his half brother’s business acumen.

Jonah strode across the lobby and caught the elevator to the third floor and the private suite of offices. He used his swipe card to reach the top floor. Liam’s office took up a significant section, plus there were several suites kept available for family and a few corporate offices and a conference room.

He walked through the front office and spotted Connie sitting at her desk, her head bent, her fingers flicking quickly over the computer keyboard.

“It’s Sunday,” he said and stopped. “Since when do you work on Sunday?”

She looked up, her face expressionless, and clearly expecting to see him. “Liam had to step out for a bit. He’ll be back in about twenty minutes.” She got up and came around the desk, a folder in her hands. “He asked if you could look over this while you wait. You can go into his office.”

Jonah stayed where he was. She wore jeans and a bright red shirt, tucked in at the waist, with a sparkly belt and bright blue cowboy boots. Her hair was down, moving over her shoulders as she walked, and it struck him that this was the first time he’d seen her with her hair that way. It was always up in a professional braid or like the fancy style she’d had at the wedding. And the clothes... He’d only ever seen her in her corporate suit and jacket or an evening dress. But today she looked casual and young and more beautiful than he’d ever seen her before. Her face was free of makeup and he spotted a row of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

Damn. Freckles. Something kerneled in his chest, a heavy feeling he didn’t like, and he realized what it was. Attraction. But since she was regarding him with contempt and undisguised impatience, Jonah also felt like a first-rate fool.

She’d made her thoughts abundantly clear that night ten months ago. He’d been at the bar downstairs, looking for solace and a way to purge the rage pounding through his blood. She’d been alone at a booth, staring into a club soda. He knew who she was. He’d met her that first time he’d accompanied his mother to Cedar River when she’d returned to see her family after thirty years away from the small town. Liam’s secret marriage to Kayla had been the catalyst for Kathleen’s return, and Jonah wasn’t about to allow her to face everyone without him. What he hadn’t bargained on was Connie Bedford. He had recognized an instant attraction.

Jonah knew enough about women to home in on sexual chemistry. So, that night, they’d talked for a while. And when the talking stopped and they both clearly knew where things were heading, he invited her to his room and she agreed. Outside, before he could pull the key card from his wallet, she’d leaned in toward him and he’d kissed her. Softly at first, because her lips had been so damned inviting he’d wanted to savor every moment. And then desire took over and he kissed her with so much passion it had almost dropped him to his knees. Within minutes they were in his room and on his bed. It had been hot and heavy, and he couldn’t remember a time when he’d wanted a woman so much—until she put the brakes on, which had acted like a bucket of ice water on his libido.

Of course, he’d stopped, immediately. But he’d also been wound up and frustrated by his inability to get her to confide in him when something was so obviously bothering her. He wasn’t usually that guy. Sure, his relationships had always been casual, but he always treated women with respect and restraint and courtesy.

Until Connie Bedford.

He’d been rude and unpleasant, stung less by her sudden rejection than the lack of explanation, and his manners hadn’t improved since. She was under his skin. Being around her pushed all his buttons...physical and emotional. He couldn’t explain or understand it, since they barely knew one another. But he knew she disapproved of his behavior and his feelings toward the O’Sullivans, and the fact that she kindled that spark of shame within him when even his mother couldn’t irritated him down to the very blood in his bones.

Jonah took the folder and noticed that Connie seemed...uncomfortable. Her gaze kept slipping toward the door, almost as though... “Am I making you nervous?”

Her gaze jerked upward. “Of course not.”

“You seem nervous being alone with me. You keep looking to see if your boss is coming.”

“Caffeine withdrawal,” she said and crossed her arms. “I’m trying to give up coffee, but I can smell it from the kitchen.” She was so clearly lying to him—and he was instantly compelled to try to put her at ease.

“Why would you want to do that?” he inquired. “Coffee is one of life’s guilty pleasures.”

“My goal is to give up all the things that are bad for me. Coffee is on the list.”

“What else is on your list?” he asked, picking up the scent of her flowery perfume and feeling it spike through his blood like wildfire.

“You.”

He laughed, both aroused and amused by her candor. “I don’t think I’ve ever been on a list before.”

“Ten bucks says you have.”

He laughed again and realized he did that a lot around Connie. She was so effortlessly attractive, and he pushed back the urge to reach out and touch her hair, her cheek. It wouldn’t be appropriate, considering their history. They might have chemistry, but it was so much more than that because something about her affected him on a primal level. He couldn’t work it out. Sure, she was pretty, but there was an earnestness about Connie that was refreshing and intoxicating and made him—foolishly—want to get to know her better. Somehow, she made him think that she’d be a good friend. Which was crazy, because he had several female friends back in Portland and he didn’t want to take any of them to bed.

“Why are you really working today?” he asked.

She shrugged and moved back around the desk. “Just catching up on a few things.”

“And you still don’t think they take advantage of you?”

Her mouth thinned. “Maybe I’m one of those people who like being needed. You should try it sometime...doing something for someone without a motive.”

Her dig had pinpoint accuracy. “I’m not completely selfish.”

“If you weren’t you’d know that every time you call your father J.D. it hurts his feelings terribly.”

Jonah stiffened. “I have my reasons.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Selfish ones.”

“You don’t know anything about it.”

“Actually,” she corrected, “I know quite a bit. We doormats tend to hear everyone’s tale of woe.”

Jonah’s stomach rolled. “I shouldn’t have called you that. I’m sorry.”

“Wow, an apology. I bet that makes your teeth hurt.”

“A bit,” he admitted. “But I generally don’t have to apologize for my behavior, since my behavior is usually very civilized.”

“Are you saying I bring out the worst in you?”

“You bring out something,” he admitted rawly. “But I’m not quite sure what it is. I think I find your complete and utter faith in the O’Sullivans a mystery. And damned irritating.”

“Haven’t you ever looked up to and admired someone?”

“Of course,” he replied. “My mom. My best friend from high school. My favorite professor in college. Your point?”

“That it’s not blind faith,” she replied. “It’s respect and admiration. It’s knowing someone has your back and you have theirs. It’s about friendship and loyalty.”

“And your loyalty lies with Liam and J.D.?” he probed. “Why?”

“Because they saved my life.”

Chapter Three

Connie wanted to snatch the words back the moment they left her mouth. Having a heart-to-heart with Jonah wasn’t in her Sunday plans. Or any plans. But somehow, he got her talking. She wasn’t sure why. Connie rarely talked about herself, to anyone. She’d endured enough talk a decade ago. Now she wanted obscurity. She wanted to stay in the shadows and avoid notoriety and gossip. And she certainly didn’t want Jonah knowing anything about her past.

“What does that mean?” he asked quickly, frowning.

She shrugged, pushed off the memory that threatened to climb over her skin and moved a few things around on her desk. They had saved her, but it wasn’t a story she wanted to tell. It was so long ago—rehashing the hurt and pain from those days was pointless. She’d made the commitment to move on with her life and not to look backward. “Nothing. I was just speaking metaphorically.”

One dark brow came up. “Really?”

“I had some family stuff going on when I was younger. My parents had left town again and—”

“Again?” he queried, interrupting her.

“It’s a long story,” she replied. “Anyway, my grandfather had passed away, but I wanted to stay with my grandmother and I needed a job, so your dad gave me a chance here at the hotel. I’m grateful for that because it meant I could stay here and look after her.”

“I thought you lived alone with your four dogs and your goldfish.”

“I do,” she replied, her uneasiness increasing, because she’d flown under the radar for so long it had been forever since she’d shared something personal about herself with anyone. And she’d never expected it to be with Jonah Rickard! And she was surprised that he remembered her comment about the dogs and goldfish. People didn’t generally remember things about her—it was Connie who did the remembering. “Nan passed away three years ago.”

His gaze darkened. “I’m sorry.”

Connie shrugged one shoulder. “She was ill for a while, so her passing was a blessing.”

“And your parents?”

“They don’t live in Cedar River,” she said as casually as she could, the usual ache she experienced when she thought of her parents quickly settling behind her rib cage. She’d stopped being angry with them a long time ago—now she felt only sadness and a heavy lingering regret that caught up with her on birthdays and around the holidays.

“I mean, why did they leave town?”

Connie shrugged. “For their work,” she said and didn’t elaborate.

“And you really like this town?” he asked. “I mean, that’s why you stayed when your parents left?”

“I love Cedar River. It’s my home.”

“So you’ll probably marry some local cowboy and settle down and have a bunch of kids?”

Connie looked at him. Damn, he was gorgeous. In dark jeans, a black shirt that stretched across his shoulders and a jacket she suspected had cost more than she made in a month, he was utterly and irrevocably the sexiest man she had ever met. And she wanted him. She wanted him so much that she’d almost had him...until the fear set in. Until her past rushed back to haunt her in ice-cold fashion. She wasn’t sure why it had happened with Jonah—since he had somehow pushed her libido into overdrive from the first moment she’d clapped eyes on him. She’d hoped that her desire and the crazy chemistry between them would be enough to push past the barriers she’d erected around herself. Hoped...and failed. Not even her aching need for him had been enough. Instead, she’d panicked and run, denying her body the experience and release it craved.

“I’m not sure if I’ll ever get married. But I believe in it,” she said and shrugged. “You?”

“From what I’ve seen, marriage generally ends in divorce. So why bother?”

“Not all marriages end up that way,” she offered. “Look at—”

“J.D. and Gwen?” he said, cutting her off. “Kieran and his ex-wife? Shall I go on?”

“They’re bad examples,” she said and rested her hips on the edge of her desk. “And J.D. and Gwen’s marriage wasn’t a complete disaster. They had thirty-five years together.”

“Based on a lie,” he said bitterly. “No, thanks.”

Connie’s heart rate increased. Talking about marriage got her thinking—because in her heart, she did want all that marriage offered: commitment, trust, the complete connection to another human being. But she often wondered if she’d ever have the courage for it. Or if she’d ever meet someone who would understand her fragile hold on trust and how achingly vulnerable she sometimes felt.

“Well, Kieran is happy now,” she insisted. “And Liam and Kayla are desperately in love with one another. So obviously marriage does work...you just have to pick the right person.”

“She’s right,” a deep voice said from across the room. “You do.”

Liam.

He’d been her rock for a decade. Her friend and confidant as well as her boss, and she trusted him completely. Seeing him happy with Kayla and their baby son, Jack, made her feel all fuzzy inside. Liam deserved to be happy, and she was honored to call him her friend. He was the big brother she’d never had—the family she’d needed at the most desperate time in her life. If it weren’t for Liam and J.D., Connie wasn’t sure she would be as emotionally healthy as she was.

“If marriage is so great, why are you working on a Sunday?” Jonah asked cynically.

Liam sauntered across the room and grinned. “Because my pain-in-the-ass little brother is heading back to Portland tomorrow and we have some plans to go over.”

Connie smiled and glanced toward Jonah. Even with his tightly clenched jaw and irritated expression, he was still the most handsome man she’d ever known. She looked for some level of affection between him and his brother but saw only disdain and impatience. And she felt sad for him, because the O’Sullivans had so much to offer and Jonah was too stubborn to see it.

She watched as the two men headed into Liam’s office and heard them talking about the plans for the museum extension, and then she relaxed a little. Jonah was highly regarded in his field. An award-winning architect who’d designed buildings right along the West Coast, he was the youngest person to have ever made partner at Walters, Orsini & Rickard, a prestigious firm in Portland. J.D. had bragged about his many achievements countless times in the previous ten months, like any proud father would.

Twenty minutes later they were back in the main office. Liam passed her the folder and his electronic tablet and gave her a few instructions.

“I’ll get Connie to email the details to you this week and you can start working up some plans,” Liam said and nodded. “Okay?”

“Sure,” Jonah replied. “No problem.”

“Ah, Connie,” Liam said and checked his watch. “If you can wait about half an hour, I’ll go and speak with the sous chef and then drop you at home.”

Before she had a chance to reply, Jonah spoke. “Don’t you have a car?”

“It’s in the shop,” she supplied. “I can’t pick it up until tomorrow. And Sean is using the hotel corporate car.”

She noticed Jonah frown and shake his head slightly.

“I’ll take her home,” he said quietly to his brother and then met her gaze. “That way you won’t have to hang around here.”

Doormat.

The unsaid word hung in the air between them. Irritation snaked up her spine and she smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You won’t be,” he said and pulled keys from his pocket. “Let’s go.”

Connie ignored Liam’s curious expression and quickly gathered her tote and laptop, aware that he was watching her movements and was probably wondering what was going on between them. To his credit, Liam didn’t say anything, but she suspected she’d be on the receiving end of a few questions the following day.

Five minutes later she was being driven from the parking area in Jonah’s stylish Lexus.

“Nice car,” she remarked, stroking the soft leather seat. “Very...understated.”

“What did you expect?” he asked, his mouth curved into a half smile.

“Oh, I don’t know...maybe a red Corvette.”

“Flashy isn’t my thing,” he remarked and pulled out onto Main Street. “I like things that are low-maintenance.”

Connie looked straight ahead. “Girls, too?”

“Girls, too,” he replied. “I guess that counts you out.”

“I’m not high-maintenance,” Connie stated, ignoring the heat suffusing her cheeks.

He chuckled. “Oh, you’re about as high as it gets.”

“Because I wouldn’t have sex with you?” she demanded. “That’s just your macho conditioning talking.”

He laughed and turned the car off Main Street, heading toward the bridge and over the river. “I have been turned down before, you know. Maybe not in such dramatic fashion. Or at such a...” His words trailed off for a moment. “Let’s call it a pivotal moment.”

Because your hand was up my skirt.

Like a camera speeding in reverse, Connie was suddenly back in his hotel room, feeling every touch, every kiss, every breath. And remembering how much she’d wanted him, how perfect his broad shoulders felt beneath her hands, how insanely erotic his kisses were. And then she remembered the rest—the fear clawing up her back, the feeling of suffocation, the sense that she was out of control...and that her body was someone else’s and not her own to command.

“I shouldn’t have gone to your room,” she said quietly. “You were right to be annoyed.”

“No, Connie,” he said, his voice just as quiet. “I wasn’t. It was your right to say no.”

“Thank you.”

“I am curious, though,” he said softly. “Did I do something to offend you? Was I too—”

“No,” she said quickly, eager to end the conversation. “It wasn’t you. It was me. I think I just panicked and—”

“You have nothing to fear from me, Connie,” he said, cutting her off. “Then or now.”

Heat burned her eyes. Because she knew that whatever else he was, Jonah Rickard was trustworthy and honorable. “I know that.” She looked around and blinked, forcing the heat away and realized they were nowhere near her street. “Um...where are we going?”

“If you don’t mind, I thought we could make a short detour,” he said casually and turned into a wide, leafy street.

“A detour?” she echoed, panic skirting along the edges of her spine for a moment. She dismissed the idea quickly. Jonah was not a threat. “To where?”

He pulled up outside a low-set, brick home with shuttered windows and a wide porch. “My mother’s.”

Connie had met Kathleen Rickard several times. Not quite fifty, she was a petite, attractive woman with pale hair and green eyes and was quite lovely. She hooked a thumb sideways. “This is your mom’s house?”

He nodded. “We can leave if you prefer.”

She saw the curtains move. “I think she knows we’re here.”

“So, we’ll go inside?”

Connie nodded warily. “I guess so.”

A minute later they were on the porch and the front door opened. Kathleen greeted her son with a warm embrace that was filled with love and devotion, and Connie experienced a sharp pang of envy. It wasn’t that her parents hadn’t loved her—she was sure they had, and still did, in their own way. But they were never very good at being parents. Kathleen, however, looked as though she would move heaven and earth to protect her only son. And in a way, she had. She’d left Cedar River when she’d gotten pregnant and made a new life for herself and her baby.

“Sweetie,” Kathleen said and touched Jonah’s face. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Mom,” he said with a groan and shook his head. “Don’t call me sweetie, okay?”

Kathleen laughed. “I’ll try not to. And Connie, it’s lovely to see you again. Jonah didn’t tell me he was bringing a...friend with him today.”

Heat crawled up her neck. “I’m just tagging along,” she explained. “I was working for a few hours today and my car is in the shop, so I needed a lift home from the hotel. I hope it’s okay that I’m here?”

“Of course,” Kathleen said, ushering them inside and down the hallway. “I’m delighted.”

The house was modest but tastefully decorated, and when they reached the living area, Connie noticed that one corner was filled with canvases and artist’s tools, including an assortment of easels and several small tables crammed with paints and charcoals.

“You’re an artist?” she asked.

Kathleen shrugged lightly. “I dabble. Though I’m not really very good. It’s more of a hobby than anything else.”

Connie noticed one of the largest easels was covered in a paint-splattered sheet. “Is that a secret project?”

Kathleen grinned. “More of a practice piece. I’m branching out into portraits. You know, you have lovely bone structure,” she commented and nodded and looked at her son. “She’d make a great model. Don’t you think, sweetie?”

“Mom,” Jonah chastised. “Enough with the sweetie thing.”

Connie wasn’t sure if he was genuinely embarrassed, but Kathleen took it in stride. They were clearly very close and a tight unit.

“Okay, I promise,” his mother said and shrugged. “Now, go and be useful and bring me some firewood,” she said and pointed to the empty crate near the hearth. “It’s going to get cold this week, and I’d like to be ready for the turn in the weather. It’s out by the back door.”

He lingered for a moment before leaving the room, his loose-limbed stride becoming so familiar to Connie that she suspected she could pick him out in a crowd at a hundred yards.