Liam's Perfect Woman

His mother had sequestered Liam and Colleen—her two youngest children—in Chicago after the crash, where the media clamor had been muted. He recalled few details from that gray, grief-filled time. They’d stayed in Chicago until Brigit had lost their family home in the lawsuit, and they’d relocated permanently to the vacation home in Harbor Town. By that time, the sensationalized reports in the news had tapered off, even if the memories and sometimes harsh judgments of the townspeople hadn’t.

“Liam?” Colleen prompted when he didn’t speak.

“I never saw any scars,” Liam replied hoarsely.

Colleen shook her head so that a portion of her long, thick hair fell from the twist on her head and coiled down her shoulder. “I’m not really sure what Natalie’s intentions were, but I do know it’s not uncommon for a trauma survivor to feel a need to make sense of what happened to them. Natalie Reyes was the only one who lived through that accident, after all,” Colleen said.

She sighed and kicked on the floor of the porch, sending the swing into squeaky motion. “If she struck you as cold, I’d imagine she comes by her aloofness honestly.”

The muscles in Natalie’s left eye began to twitch under the constant strain. She placed her hand over the scarred portion of the eyelid and pressed gently, trying to alleviate the familiar discomfort. Shutting the folder on the monthly financial reports for the Silver Dunes Country Club, she glanced at the clock. It was going on nine. She wasn’t tired, but her damn eye was, and that meant her work day was over whether she liked it or not.

A sigh of relief leaked between her lips when she flipped her desk lamp to the dimmest setting.

She started at the sudden sound of a knock on the door, her hand falling to the desk. When the loud rapping resumed after a pause, she stood.

Who in the world was knocking? It was about the time Erma often began her night cleaning, but Erma had her own keys. Perhaps she’d forgotten them?

She hurried through the dark, silent waiting room, seeing a tall figure through the frosted glass of the front door. The outline was definitely not that of her short, stout cleaning lady. She hesitated before she flipped the lock.

“Who is it?”

“Liam Kavanaugh.”

Her hand moved clumsily as she fumbled with the lock. Why had he come back? Over the past forty-eight hours, she’d come to terms with the fact that she’d handled their meeting the other night all wrong. Natalie was only used to dealing with people in the cut-and-dried language of business and numbers. She didn’t have much of a social life. Of course she had a few friends, like Mari Kavanaugh, and she and her brother, Eric, were very close.

But she wasn’t “good” with people. And she had little experience in dealing with a man like Liam Kavanaugh.

Strike that. She had no experience in dealing with a man like Liam.

“Hello,” she said breathlessly after she’d swung open the door. A distant streetlight allowed her to see him. He stood on the sidewalk wearing a dark blue T-shirt and pair of faded, worn jeans that looked as if they’d been tailor-made for his body. All the Kavanaugh children had been natural athletes, Natalie recalled. Something about Liam’s balanced stance and long, lean frame reminded her of that.

Twilight made it difficult for her to read his expression, but she saw the gleam of his eyes beneath his lowered brow.

“Can we talk for a minute?” he asked.

She nodded. Even if he’d come here to castigate her more for her request, he was here. She’d have the opportunity to explain herself better. Despite her desire to do just that, nervousness bound her throat as she led him to her office. She immediately darted behind the safe fortress of her desk but looked up in surprise when Liam blocked her by standing in her path. He stood closer than she’d expected.

She flinched and began to step away, but he stopped her by encircling her wrist in his hand. He’d lowered his head. Her upturned face was less than a foot away from his. She stared at his cotton-covered chest, not really seeing anything. Instead, panic started to rise in her as she inhaled his clean, male scent.

“You never really answered me the other day—about what you hoped to discover with an investigation of a crash that happened sixteen years ago,” he said quietly.

“You never really gave me the chance.”

She shut her eyes briefly in regret. She could tell by the increased tension in his gripping hand that he’d been offended by her quick, sharp response.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so defensive,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She went back to studying his chest, trying to gather herself. “Maybe…maybe it’s difficult for you to understand my reasons.”

“Try me.”

Why did he persist in holding her? His touch unnerved her, as did his nearness, and this confession was difficult enough as things stood.

“I think a lot about what was going through your father’s mind on that night of the crash. You might think that my…obsession about it would have eased over the years, but it hasn’t. It weighs on me.” She lowered her head, blocking herself even more from Liam’s laserlike stare. “Maybe you’ll think it’s foolish, but it’s like an unhealed wound. It bothers me, not knowing what motivated him on that night. What made a father of four children, a successful lawyer and businessman, get behind the wheel of his car with the equivalent of twenty drinks in him? I wasn’t trying to insinuate he purposely caused the crash the other night,” she assured in a pressured fashion. “But there had to be some reason he was in the state he was. If I knew…if I could at least understand, maybe I could finally let it go.”

“Knowing wouldn’t change anything, Natalie.”

She blinked. His tone had sounded warm…concerned, even? She forced herself to remain still, her head bowed, even though she longed to look up at him in that moment and try to discern if his expression matched his voice.

“Maybe you’re right. But I need to try. I’ve talked it over with Mari. She said she’s read that it’s not uncommon for survivors of trauma to need to know all the details that led up to the event. It’s necessary for the grieving process…to make sense of things.”

“My sister Colleen said something similar. Does that mean you’re still grieving?”

This time she did look up—slowly. Standing as close as they were, she could make out his features despite the shadows. His expression was currently completely sober, as if his features had been carved from rock. The veins in her wrist seemed to swell and throb beneath his fingers.

“I’m done grieving. But it’s as if a few crucial pieces are missing from my life. I can’t seem to stop thinking about filling in those gaps.”

“Why me, then?” he asked after a moment.

“Mari has spoken so highly of you,” she whispered through leaden lips.

“And?” he prodded.

“I thought…I thought perhaps you might share some of my desire. To know the truth,” she added quickly.

His mouth quirked sardonically. “And of course it wouldn’t hurt that as a Kavanaugh, I might have some inside information.”

Her spine stiffened. What he’d said had pricked her. Her curiosity about Derry Kavanaugh was so great that it had appealed to her, this idea of having access to someone who knew so much about him.

“I’d considered it,” she said honestly, “but not in the unflattering light you seem to be imagining. Think whatever you want. You will anyway.”

For a few tense seconds they just stared at one another in the dim office. Natalie became hyperaware of the steady movement of his chest as he breathed in and out.

“Okay. I’ll take the job.”

“You will? That’s…that’s—”

It happened so quickly that she never had warning. The fluorescent overhead lights flared on, and her eyelids shut automatically at the unexpected intrusion. Still stunned, Natalie struggled to blink as a spasm went through the muscles of her left eyelid. It drooped involuntarily.

“Ms. Reyes,” Erma called out in surprise. “I didn’t realize you were in here!”

“Turn out the light,” Liam barked.

Natalie caught a fleeting image of a shocked-looking Erma standing just inside the open door of her office. She glanced up. She clamped her eyes closed, but not before the image of Liam Kavanaugh’s hungry stare was stamped permanently in her mind.

The light switch clicked, and the room was suddenly dim again.

“Are you all right, Ms. Reyes?” Erma asked, sounding anxious and contrite at once.

“Yes. Yes, of course. I’m fine,” Natalie murmured, barely holding down a rising tide of emotion. “We’ll be out of here in just a moment, Erma.”

“No problem. Like I said, I’m sorry for interrupting. Are you sure you’re okay?” She felt regretful for the anxiety in Erma’s voice. Natalie’s mother had been a cleaning lady and she was always extra considerate and respectful of Erma, knowing from experience how exhausting and solitary the work could be.

“I’m fine, Erma,” she said, using all her effort to keep her voice even. She kept her face averted. “Really, I am.”

Natalie heard the door shut. She jerked her arm, suddenly wild to get away from Liam, all of her usual tight control evaporating to mist. A sound of misery escaped her throat when instead of releasing her, he embraced her.

Chapter Two

“Calm down,” he said near her ear. “It’s okay.”

The unexpected eruption of emotion that shuddered through her flesh mortified and bewildered her. Plenty of people had looked at her face before. Plastic surgeons and doctors had scrutinized it, photographed it and even written medical journal articles on it. Townspeople constantly cast curious, furtive glances her way at the grocery or drugstore.

Why was she crying just because Liam had seen her scars?

Maybe it was because none of those other people pinned her with such a piercing, honest gaze that made her feel so exposed.

“Just leave, please,” she muttered as she tried to pry herself out of his arms.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll go. But give me a second.”

Natalie paused in her struggling. Her breath seemed to burn in her lungs at the sensation of his long, jeans-covered thighs pressing against her own. It was a new experience for her, to be held against such a virile man. Her thoughts seemed to flit around her head like panicked moths trying to escape from her skull.

He cradled her jaw. She went entirely still when he brushed the pad of his thumb along her cheek. The movement mesmerized her, and she stared fixedly at his chest, afraid to raise her gaze, but never so aware of another human being in her life.

“The bright light hurts your eye?” Liam stated more than asked.

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me,” she blurted out angrily.

“I wasn’t feeling sorry for you,” he said, sounding slightly insulted. “I asked you a simple question. If we’re going to be working together, I want to know.”

“The muscles are weak in my left eye,” she murmured after a moment, contrite for her defensive reaction. “It tires easily. It’s sensitive to bright light.”

She sensed his nod of understanding. He resumed stroking her with his thumb.

“Is that why you prefer going to the beach in the moon-light?”

Her head jerked up, but she instantly regretted her move. His mouth was only inches from hers.

“What do you mean?”

“I saw you the other night. Dancing on the beach.”

She just stared at him. How could he have recognized her? The beach had been draped in shadow. She’d known him, but surely that was different. She had long practice in recognizing Liam, especially on a beach, where he seemed to belong.

“How…when did you realize it was me?” she whispered.

“Just now,” Liam said. She felt his warm breath mist her lips. “I knew you once I fully saw your beautiful face.”

What sort of a game was he playing?

She backed out of his embrace, experiencing an overwhelming longing to get back on track…to return to a place of control. Something told her it was downright dangerous to allow Liam the upper hand in this business endeavor…to get the upper hand, period. He probably didn’t think twice about saying she had a beautiful face or touching her as if it were as natural as breathing. Liam had always been a ladies’ man. The idea of him treating her in the same way he did other women panicked her.

This time when she attempted to put her large, solid desk between them, he didn’t stop her. She impatiently dried her tears with a tissue and pulled a checkbook from her desk drawer.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding bewildered and a little irritated.

“We haven’t yet discussed salary,” she said as she wrote rapidly. She ripped out the check and held it up for him to take. “This is your retainer. I’ll pay you twice that amount when the investigation is complete.”

It annoyed her that he didn’t take it because her hand shook slightly, making the check tremble in the air. Erma had taken her off her guard by switching on that light, but Liam had shocked her to the core by embracing her. She’d thought she knew what she was doing by making this proposal, but apparently Liam wasn’t something to be quantified and controlled.

“How will you know if I’ve investigated the matter fully or not?”

“I’ve heard about your work ethic from Mari. I’ve read about your career. You’ve been a champion for victims of crime…for discovering the truth. If there’s anything relevant to be found, you’ll do your best to uncover it once you take this check.”

“Chances are I won’t be able to uncover anything. I want you to know that up front.”

“I understand. I still want to try,” Natalie stated, her firm tone belying the fact that she couldn’t meet his eyes.

Liam stared at the check uncertainly.

He’d run the gamut of emotion in the past few minutes, and now Natalie had the nerve to make him feel even more. He’d leaped at the opportunity to see her face, then experienced a rush of guilt for his curiosity…his hunger. It wasn’t seeing her scars that made him feel guilty, it was her palpable vulnerability.

The bone structure of her face was as finely made as her body. Natalie’s wasn’t a run-of-the-mill beauty, but the haunting kind. There were several smaller scars near her temple, but the most prominent was a half-inch-thick one that ran all the way from her eyelid and disappeared below her hairline. It only seemed to highlight the perfection of everything else about her.

It saddened him, that scar—saddened him on a bone-deep level. It was a reminder of the months and probably years of pain that a young, innocent girl had endured.

But his sorrow didn’t blind him to the beauty of the woman beneath that scar. In fact it only added to it.

His father had caused this; he’d been responsible for making this exquisite woman shrink into herself like she’d thought her face would actually harm an onlooker.

Seeing that had hurt him in a way he couldn’t quite put into words.

For a few tension-filled seconds Liam considered telling her to keep her money. Natalie Reyes was far, far from being the devil, but somehow making this pact with her intimidated him.

Accepting that check sealed the deal.

For sixteen years, Liam had struggled to create a cohesive image of his father. He’d loved his dad like crazy. All four Kavanaugh children had. He’d been charismatic, fun…someone he’d always respected. It’d been a trial for Liam to come to terms with the drastically different pictures of his father that he’d received after the crash: the laughing, powerful patriarch…the selfish, heartless drunk…

Who the hell was Derry Kavanaugh?

Part of him had always been curious about what had happened that night. He shared that same internal pressure as Natalie Reyes. Problem was, he’d been disillusioned by his father once—when he was fifteen years old. Taking that check from Natalie would set him on a path where he might discover even uglier truths about his dad.

He hesitated on a knife’s edge. Why did he waver now when he’d dived headfirst into drastically more risky and dangerous situations in the past?

The image of Natalie sitting behind her desk, cloaked in shadow, penetrated his awareness. For some stupid, incomprehensible reason, he wanted to walk behind that desk and undo the knot at the back of her head. He wanted to fill his hands with that glorious spill of hair he’d seen on the beach and here in her office the other night.

It irritated him, this dichotomy of feelings she inspired in him. He wanted to shake her sometimes. He also wanted to protect her. Most of all, he wanted to tear through her facade so he could lay bare that woman he’d glimpsed on the beach.

He must be losing his mind.

He reached out and swiped the check.

“I’ll make a report to you when…if I get anything of substance. Which I doubt very seriously,” he said pointedly before he walked out of the office.

A few days later Natalie was putting some groceries in her trunk when her cell phone rang. Her heart leaped with a mixture of anxiety and excitement when she noticed the identity of the caller.

Ridiculous. She really needed to get past this girlhood crush she’d had on Liam Kavanaugh. She wasn’t that girl anymore. Children had a license to dream, and Natalie knew how dangerous dreaming could be for a grown woman.

“Hello?” she said as she got into her car. She’d planned to drop by her brother, Eric’s, place and maybe make him some dinner with the groceries she’d just purchased.

“It’s Liam. I was wondering if you want me to give you periodic reports on what I’ve found.”

“Oh…I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it. Have you found something important?”

“No. Well…maybe.” He made a sound of impatience. “Problem is, I don’t know what you’d think is worthwhile or not. What are you doing right now?”

“I’m in the Shop and Save parking lot. I just finished some errands.”

“Why don’t you swing by my place? I stained the hardwood floors earlier, but we could talk out on the terrace.” When she didn’t immediately respond, he added, “I won’t take more than twenty minutes of your time.”

She felt contrite. She was the one who had proposed a business arrangement between them. Why would she hesitate to meet with him? A voice inside her head taunted her, accusing her of being gun-shy because of that embrace the other day, but Natalie willfully ignored it.

“Of course. What’s your address?”

He gave it to her. Natalie had lived in Harbor Town her whole life, so she knew precisely which house he referred to.

“You bought the Myerson cottage?” she clarified.

“Yeah. I know what you’re thinking.”

“You do?” she asked in numb amazement.

“That I’m a sucker for buying a money pit like this? My mother keeps telling me I’m nuts,” he said, wry amusement in his tone.

“No…no that’s not what I was thinking at all.”

She told him she’d be there shortly and hung up the phone. Less than ten minutes later she pulled past an old mailbox—even that was rich in character and craftsmanship—and drove down the long, weedy gravel drive. It was late August, the time when nature was at her ripest. The Victorian-era cottage blended almost seamlessly into the overgrown landscape, thanks to the thick surrounding foliage and blooming vines that covered the stone exterior. Flowers were everywhere—bluebells, wisteria, daisies and roses.

It had stunned her to hear he’d bought the cottage, but understanding slowly started to mute her incredulity.

This place was as wild and untamed as Liam himself.

She heard the sound of the waves breaking in the distance as she got out of the car. Of course. She hadn’t been far from here that night when they encountered each other on the lake-front. The Myerson cottage was just south of White Sands, the public beach where Liam had come upon her in a private moment. Perhaps like her, he hadn’t been able to sleep that night.

She started toward the door but paused when Liam came around the corner of the house, poking his arms into a short-sleeved button-down shirt. She froze at the sight of him. He was far enough away that she was granted several seconds to study him through the lenses of her dark glasses. He wasn’t bulky muscular, but he was ripped. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on his torso, just lean muscle and smooth golden-brown skin. He wore a pair of casual cargo shorts that fastened low on his narrow hips. The omnipresent braid of leather encircled his wrist. The white shirt he threw on looked delicious next to his tan. His legs were long and well-shaped and dusted with light brown hair. From the light sheen of sweat on his abdomen and chest she guessed he’d just come from doing some physical labor.

“Hi,” he greeted as he approached, buttoning his shirt with fleet fingers.

“Hello,” she replied, mentally damning her breathlessness. She slammed the car door and walked toward him, glad that he closed the shirt over his bare chest. He was almost indecently gorgeous. She noticed a small smile pull at his mouth when he came to a halt.

“What?” she asked warily.

“I’m not used to seeing you in your civilian clothes.”

She glanced down at her attire—jean shorts, canvas tennis shoes and a blue-and-white-striped tank top.

“Strike that,” he said. She lifted her head. Her breasts tingled beneath his flickering gaze. “You weren’t in civilian clothes that night I saw you on the beach. You weren’t wearing much of anything, were you?”

Heat rushed into her cheeks. It confused her to the core, this tendency he had to say things and make it sound so warm…so intimate. It shouldn’t surprise her, of course. Liam Kavanaugh was a born flirt. He probably just didn’t know how to shut it off, even with an unlikely candidate.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone to see me on that night,” she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. It wouldn’t do to let him believe their chance meeting on the beach had meant anything to her.

“Obviously.”

She inhaled slowly. It certainly didn’t take him long to make her feel like she was floundering.

“Accountants deserve downtime as much as police officers,” she said stiffly.

“More so,” he agreed with a shrug. “If I had to wear a suit every day to work I’d go nuts. I’d dive into my jeans the second I walked out of the office.”

He looked surprised when she laughed, but she couldn’t seem to help it. “Or your board shorts, no doubt.”

His smile was like sex distilled. Her laughter faded at the sight of it.

“I think you might be getting the hang of me, Natalie.”

“Heaven forbid.”

He chuckled appreciatively as he waved for her to follow him on the ancient stone path that circled the cottage. “Is it all right if we sit out here?” he asked, waving to the shaded terrace at the back of the house. “The fumes from the stain are fading—I’ve got almost every window open in the house—but they might still bother you.”

“Of course, it’s lovely out here,” Natalie replied, meaning it. She followed Liam up some stairs, appreciating the view of a sparkling, light blue Lake Michigan.

“Something to drink?” he asked. “I have iced tea, soda—”

“No, I’m fine. Please get something for yourself, though,” she said as she sank down onto a cushioned deck chair.

“I’ll be right back.”

Natalie nodded and leaned back in the chair. It was hot today, but the humidity had dropped. The view was amazing from there on the stone terrace—the tall prairie grass and colorful flowers in the backyard swaying in the gentle breeze, the waves hitting the rocky beach. She envied Liam. It was two years ago that she’d almost bought the Myerson cottage. She’d fantasized once about taming these surroundings into a cottage garden. Well, not taming, really—who would want to cultivate such a wild, glorious place? Her brother had been very uneasy about the idea of Natalie living in such a secluded spot though, and Natalie hated the idea of him worrying about her. In the end, she’d bought her cozy town house instead.