Forbidden Love

“I said there’s no one.” Amy eased from his grip, fighting the urge to cover the spot where the heat of his hand still lingered. “I’m staying alone at the house.”

She thought he might look relieved by the assurance. If anything, the furrows in his brow only deepened as he stepped back. The muscle in his jaw wasn’t jerking anymore, though. It had simply gone rigid.

He must have decided he had no choice but to believe her. His guard firmly in place, he turned toward the nearly empty parking lot. “Do you have a car here?”

“It’s right over there.” Reaching into her tote for her sunglasses and her keys, she nodded toward the crayon-yellow Volkswagen sitting alone by the tree-lined curb. Her mother thought the thing looked like a windup toy. Her students loved it.

“I’ll follow you,” he muttered.

Nick could have sworn he saw relief flash in her eyes an instant before she slipped on the dark glasses and told him that would be fine. She was clearly no crazier than he was with the idea of having to make small talk if they took the same vehicle. But he didn’t want to think about his ex-fiancée’s little sister. Amy was just doing what her grandmother had asked her to do. It seemed far more prudent to consider the motives of the elderly woman inside the long, low building they’d just left.

He hadn’t seen Bea Gardner since the night before he’d left town after breaking up with her older granddaughter. That had been ten years ago. The decade had taken its toll on her, too, put more wear on a face that had probably once been quite beautiful, made her aging body that much more fragile. She wasn’t a big woman. He doubted she’d ever been taller than Amy’s five-three. But she’d always had a presence that more than made up for her diminutive size.

That presence had never been more impressive than when she’d come across him on the highway that long-ago evening and stopped to give him a ride. He’d had way too much to drink after he’d left Paige’s house, but he’d had enough sense left to walk home rather than risk plowing the first new car he’d ever owned into a pole. Somewhere out on the highway between the Twin Pine Tavern and his uncle’s house on the opposite side of town, Bea had come sailing by in the old boat of a Cadillac she’d driven since 1966.

She’d opened her window, told him he should be ashamed of himself and to get in before he wound up like the deer that crossed the highway to the lake and some sleepy trucker turned him into roadkill. Beyond that, what he remembered most was that she’d mercilessly prodded him with questions about why he’d broken up with her granddaughter—and that after he’d wound up spilling his guts to her, she had agreed that he’d had no choice but to do what he’d done, and to leave.

As uneasy as he’d felt facing the old woman again, his caution had doubled the instant he’d laid eyes on the slender young woman with the doe-soft brown eyes and the short dark hair. Amy had been the polar opposite of her bubbly blond older sister. She’d possessed a natural vitality, but it had been more innocent, more unassuming. He’d recognized her instantly, though. He just hadn’t been prepared for how truly lovely she’d become.

Chapter Two

A rain shower, so typical to the area in summer, had moved through that morning. The quick, heavy cloudburst had left the air heavy with the scents of damp earth and blooming wildflowers. Amy normally would have taken pleasure in the way the wetness intensified the deep green of pines, the shimmering sage of aspen, the emerald of oak and maple. She loved the nuances of shade and color. But she barely noticed any of what surrounded her. As she pulled off the narrow road that looped around one of the area’s secluded lakes and headed down the shaded lane that led to her grandmother’s house, her only thoughts were of the man turning onto the lane behind her.

Nick was nothing at all like her memory of him. The man who’d endeared himself to her family had possessed a congenial manner, a quick smile and a kind of charm that put everyone around him at ease. He seemed far more imposing now, more dominant and infinitely more disturbing. Never in her life had she met a man like him whose tension knotted her own nerves, or who stole the breath from her lungs simply by touching her.

Remembering how she’d responded to him had her hands tightening on the wheel. Nick Culhane was the last man on earth who should elicit such reactions from her. She could still recall her sister sobbing in her room the night he’d broken up with her and the frantic dash over the next couple of days to undo plans that had been taking shape for months. While Paige had remained behind her locked door, their mom and Grandma Bea had canceled the church, the reception hall and the caterers. They’d called the florist, the photographer, the bakery and Marleen’s Hair Affair, where they’d all had appointments for shampoos, blow-drys and manicures the morning of the big event.

Grandma Bea had been the only person gutsy enough to defend the enemy by pointing out that Nick had at least possessed the decency to call everything off the day before the invitations had gone into the mail. He and Paige were to have taken them to the post office together the next morning. But right after that, she’d said she was glad he was gone because he’d just have hurt Paige more if he’d stayed. Then she’d taken the billowing gown of satin and pearls from where Paige had hung it outside her bedroom door and given it to Amy to hang in the attic.

The fabulous creation had stayed there until her sister had sold it at a consignment shop a few years later, and when Paige had married Dr. Darren Hunt six years ago, the gown she’d worn, along with the ceremony and reception, had been simplicity itself. Even years after the fact, she’d obviously wanted no reminders of the elaborate affair she and Nick had once planned.

Amy pulled the car to a stop under the sweeping arms of an ancient maple and glanced at the rearview mirror. As she watched the dark blue truck rumble to a stop behind her, she wondered if Paige knew Nick was back.

The slam of his door reverberated like a gunshot in the stillness surrounding her grandmother’s venerable old house. Her own door echoed the sound a second later, birds scattering from the high pitch of the gabled cedar roof to settle in the trees and along the telephone line running in from the road.

Wishing she could bolt, too, she watched him walk toward her in the dappled sunlight. Pine needles and gravel crunched heavily beneath his boots as he looked from the pristine white house with its butterscotch-yellow trim to the rippling blue water of the deep glacial lake.

A wooden dock, its boards weathered to silver gray and edged with lichen, jutted alongside a boathouse painted with the same cheery trim as the main house. Except for the broad expanse of lawn carpeting the land to the bare earth near the water’s edge, the property was surrounded by woods.

The set of Nick’s guarded features never changed when his glance shifted to her.

“I can think of worse places to spend the summer.”

It really was lovely there. Quiet, peaceful. The nearest neighbor was on the other side of the little lake, too far away to be seen, much less heard.

“It’s probably the best part about being here,” she conceded, hoisting her bag over her shoulder as she headed past the wide side porch to the back where the porch was enclosed. She had truly loved every moment she’d spent there as a child, swimming in the cool, clear water, sunning on the dock with her friends while they listened to the radio and giggled over bags of chips and Seventeen magazines.

“I don’t know if you remember much about the house from before,” she continued, determined to stick to business, “but Grandma wants her new bedroom to be the same size as her old one. The back porch is a little bigger, but I think it would work.”

“I don’t remember anything about this place. I was never here.”

“You weren’t?”

The genuine surprise in her eyes faded the instant she looked up at him. She’d thought for certain that Paige would have brought him out here when they’d been together. This house was like the cornerstone of their family. But the way he was watching her, studying her as if he might be trying to figure out what he recalled about her, short-circuited the thoughts.

Doubting he remembered much about her at all, she glanced from the compelling blue of his eyes and focused on climbing the back steps.

He was right behind her, the wooden stairs groaning at his greater weight.

“When did you move to Eau Claire?” he asked over the squeak of a loose board.

As soon as I could, she thought. “About seven years ago.”

“I take it that the rest of your family has moved away, too.”

Not sure why he would assume such a thing, she opened the screen door, holding it back for him. “Everyone is still right here in town.”

“Your parents and Paige still live in Cedar Lake?”

“You sound surprised that they’re still here.”

“I am.”

Truly puzzled, she glanced behind her as he grabbed the door. “Why?”

“Because it doesn’t make any sense.”

“That they’d still be here?”

His tone went as flat as the lake. “It doesn’t make any sense that you came from two hours away to take care of this for your grandmother when your mom, dad and sister live within ten minutes of the place.”

He stood with one arm stretched out as he held the door, his broad chest blocking her view of the overgrown garden, his carved features knitted in a frown. She was aware of his nearness, his size and his obvious incomprehension. Mostly, she was aware that she wasn’t moving.

She stepped onto the enclosed porch, ignoring for now the chairs and chaises that needed to be wiped down and the potted plants she’d watered when she’d arrived yesterday but still needed to trim. Her mother simply hadn’t had time to give them their usual care while Bea had been convalescing. After three months of hit-and-miss tending, Amy figured they were lucky to still be alive.

“My family is busy,” she defended, on her way to the middle of the expansive, screened-in area. “Summer is Mom’s busiest time of year for house sales. Dad has been spending a lot of time out of town on a big audit. And Paige has a husband, two little girls, a big house and her Junior League committees to keep up with. No one else has the time except me.”

She’d thought for certain that mention of Paige and her family would give him pause. At the very least, the mention of her being married should raise an eyebrow, providing, of course, that he didn’t already know.

All he did when she stopped to face him was give her a slow, disbelieving blink.

“So they go on with their lives while you put yours on hold.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” she replied, not caring for the way the thought made her feel.

“I would.”

She already felt disquieted by him. The feeling only increased with his flatly delivered statement. “My only plans this summer were to take a course I need to keep my teaching certificate current and to spend a month in Europe prowling museums. I can take the class in the fall and do the museum tour next year. I’ve already postponed it twice, anyway.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that Junior League was more important than classes and a vacation.”

“Junior League does charity work,” she informed him, determined to maintain her position. “Being involved in the community is important, too.”

Nick’s brow furrowed as he watched her glance slide from his. A person would have to possess the sensitivity of a stone not to notice how completely she’d minimized and dismissed her own plans, or how staunchly she stood up for the more self-focused members of her family. Especially Paige. His ex-fiancée had probably been the first to come up with a list of excuses about why she couldn’t handle the responsibility Amy had so willingly taken on.

“Why do I have the feeling you’re the only one who thinks your grandmother doesn’t belong where she is?”

Because you’re incredibly astute, she thought. “I don’t know,” she replied, preferring not to discuss family disagreements with him, or be impressed by his insight. “Why do you?”

“For one thing, you’re the only one willing to be inconvenienced.”

“I told you—”

“Yeah. I know. They’re busy,” he muttered. “You don’t need to defend your family to me, Amy. I was just trying to make conversation.”

He wasn’t sure what annoyed him the most. Her coolness, or the fact that he was letting her get to him. That coolness didn’t even suit her. There was too much generosity in her spirit, too much warmth in her soul. Or there had been, anyway. It took amazingly little effort for him to recall how she’d befriended nearly every small child and animal in her neighborhood, or how easily her shy smile could come once she’d gotten to know someone. Her warmth was still there, toward her grandmother, anyway, and her generous spirit still thrived, but she’d clearly choke before he’d get a smile out of her.

“Look,” he muttered, knowing no way around the problem but to address it. “I know I’m not your family’s favorite person, but what happened between me and Paige happened a long time ago. It sounds like she’s moved on. So have I. There’s no reason—”

“You don’t need to defend yourself to me.”

“I’m not defending myself,” he shot back, not caring for how neatly she’d turned around what he’d said to her moments ago. “I’m just stating facts. And one of those facts is that it was your grandmother who asked me to come here, so I’d appreciate it if you’d drop the chill.”

He looked about as flexible as a granite post with his eyes boring into hers and his hands jammed on his hips. Amy didn’t doubt for a moment that he expected her to back down and, if not drop her guard, then at least be a little more hospitable.

As a woman who went out of her way to avoid confrontations, who made her students apologize and play nice whenever there was a difference of opinion, she normally would have found his expectation to be the more diplomatic course of action. Especially since he looked a little short on patience at the moment. But she didn’t feel diplomatic. What she felt was unnerved. His glance had slipped to her mouth, lingering there long enough to heat the knot of nerves in her stomach. If she was feeling anything at all at the moment, it was a strong and distinct need for distance.

“I realize Grandma called you. And as long as we’re stating facts,” she echoed politely, “I’m not totally convinced that her doing that is rational behavior. It makes no sense that she would do something that could bring back bad memories for a member of her family. She can be a little unconventional at times, and she’s certainly outspoken, but she’s not inconsiderate.

“You hurt her granddaughter,” she reminded him.

“Which reminds me,” she continued, loyalty to her sibling melding with a heavy dose of feminine self-defense, “did you ever marry the woman who stole you from my sister?”

She got the distance she was after. In the space of a heartbeat, Nick’s expression closed like a windblown shutter.

“No. I didn’t marry her. I have no intention of ever marrying anyone,” he informed her, his voice low and certain. “And just for the record, no one can steal someone from another person. If a man doesn’t care enough to stick around and make a relationship work, there were fundamental problems to begin with.”

The tension in his big body was almost palpable as his glance shifted over her face, his eyes revealing nothing as his gaze penetrated hers. That gaze was disturbing, intimate, and whatever it was he saw in her face caused the telltale muscle in his jaw to jerk before he turned away.

With his back to her, he drew a breath that stretched the fabric of his shirt against his wide shoulders.

“Where does your grandmother want the ramp?”

Amy swallowed, her heart hammering.

“We thought putting it by the back steps would be best.” There was no escaping his irritation. It seemed to follow her even as she stepped back. “It’s closer to the driveway and the path to the lake.”

“That won’t work if you want this area converted.” He pointed beyond her, turning his head enough for her to catch his strong profile. “What’s that door on the side porch? The one we passed coming in.”

There had been an edge to his manner before. Now, having dispensed with any conversation other than the absolutely necessary, that edge felt sharp enough to slice steel.

“It leads from the dining room,” she replied.

“The ramp will have to be either there or by the front steps.”

“I suppose the dining room would be more convenient.”

He gave a nod, the confirmation to himself, not to her. “I’ll need to look around out here for a minute and get some measurements. This is the size of room she wants? This space here?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He took a step away. “Thanks.”

He didn’t need to say another word for her to know her presence was no longer required. With his back still to her, he pulled a pencil and paper from his shirt pocket and unclipped a silver measuring tape from his belt. Even as she headed for the door that led into the kitchen, she could hear his heavy footfall moving away from her.

The door opened with a squeak. Nick practically sighed with relief when it closed with a quiet click. It was as clear as the collection of crystal obelisks lining his office credenza, design awards bestowed on his work over the past ten years, that Amy wanted as little as possible to do with him. That was fine with him. He wanted as little as possible to do with her, too. Seeing her again only brought back memories of a time that had forced him to face a few hard truths about himself. Life-altering truths that had affected everything from how he’d planned his future to what he thought of himself as a man. Though he’d learned to live with his flaws, he could hardly blame her for her disapproval of him.

He pulled out the tape, running it along the far edge of the wide space. He couldn’t fault the way she felt, but that didn’t mean he had to like her attitude. He didn’t have to like much of anything about being there.

He especially didn’t appreciate his physical responses to her.

The thoughts had come into his mind unbidden, unwanted. Just noticing the gentle curve of her mouth, the taunting fullness of her lower lip, had been enough to put a distinct ache low in his gut. But the thought of how it would feel to taste that fullness, to taste her, had him feeling as tight as his tape when it snapped back into its coil.

He made short work of measuring the other wall and headed outside to study the foundation. He really didn’t want to be there. From Amy’s response about this place being the best part about being in Cedar Lake, he strongly suspected she didn’t want to be there, either. But she was clearly going to do what she had to do for her grandmother. And despite the fact that he was still wary of Bea Gardner’s motives for giving him her business, he’d do what he had to do, too. His uncle Mike’s construction company was deeply in debt. He couldn’t afford not to bid on the job.

“Triple A Renovators wants me to sign all this before they’ll even give me an estimate?” Amy’s grandmother frowned at the three-page agreement Amy had just given her and promptly pushed it aside. “I don’t think so. Did Cedar Lake Construction come this morning?”

“Their estimator called yesterday to reschedule. He’s coming at two this afternoon.” Paper rustled as she pulled from the sack the People magazine her grandma had requested and set it on her tray table. So far, she’d been to the grocery store, the library and the plant nursery. As soon as she stopped by the hardware store, she could take another stab at cleaning up the paint that had splattered all over her grandmother’s kitchen. It had dried before anyone could clean it up after Bea’s fall. “I haven’t heard back from Culhane Contracting.”

“I have. Nick’s uncle called last evening.”

Amy’s motions slowed as she folded the sack and glanced toward the woman in the purple plaid bed jacket. Bea was already flipping through her magazine.

“Either he or Nick will be out in a couple of days to start on the ramp,” she added.

Disquieted by the announcement, trying not to look it, Amy stuffed the sack into her tote to recycle. “You don’t want to wait for the other bid?”

“The only estimate he gave me was for the ramp. And that’s all I’ve agreed to for now. How are you doing with the paint? Is it coming off?” she asked, seeming perfectly oblivious to her granddaughter’s consternation.

“Sort of,” Amy murmured absently, tucking the sack a little deeper.

This really isn’t a problem, she hastily assured herself. The fact that Nick’s uncle had called Bea told her that Nick wanted as little to do with her and her family as possible. He’d obviously worked up the bid, given it to his uncle and bowed out. No doubt he’d do the same when it came to the job itself. She couldn’t imagine him doing anything else. By the time he’d left the lake house, conversation had been reduced to only the polite and the necessary.

That had been roughly forty-eight hours ago. And in that forty-eight hours she’d tried everything short of self-hypnosis to put the encounter out of her mind. Yet, try as she might, she couldn’t shake her unwanted but undeniable curiosity over why he’d sounded so adamant about his lack of interest in marriage, something that made no sense at all to her and shouldn’t matter even if it had.

“Amy?”

Her brow was still furrowed when she glanced up from her tote.

“I asked what ‘sort of’ means.”

“Oh, sorry,” she murmured, distractedly running her fingers through her hair. “It means the remover I bought yesterday will work on the appliances, but I need something different for the floor and cabinets.”

“I told you I can hire that work done, dear.”

“There’s no need for that. I want to do it. I need to do something while I’m here.” Other than pace, she thought, feeling the urge to do just that. It had to be the weather. She always got restless when the heat and humidity rose.

“Unsettled” her grandmother had called it. Until a couple of days ago, Amy honestly hadn’t felt anything she couldn’t attribute to simply being in a place she didn’t really want to be. She hadn’t felt unsettled until she’d had to deal with Nick.

She glanced at her watch and promptly grimaced. “I’m late,” she announced, refusing to tell her dear grandmother that she’d only added to the restlessness she’d been so concerned about. “I was going to go to the hardware store on the way to the house, but I don’t have time now. The guy from Cedar Lake Construction is supposed to be there in ten minutes.”

The man was late, too. “J.T. from CLC,” as he identified himself, left a message on the answering machine her sister had bought her grandmother two Christmases ago saying he was still running behind and that he’d be there later that afternoon.

J.T. had underestimated his delay. He hadn’t shown up by the time Amy had trimmed and fertilized all thirty-one of her grandmother’s potted plants. Nor had he arrived by the time she’d given the forgotten African violets in the upstairs bathroom a decent burial, washed out their little ceramic containers and repotted them with the fresh plants she’d purchased at the nursery. When five o’clock came and went, she wondered if the man possessed the manners to even call again. Then she heard the doorbell ring as she was positioning the last plant on the upstairs windowsill at six-fifteen, and figured he’d decided to show up after all.

Shoving her hair out of her eyes, she hurried down the open staircase to the little foyer with its faded Aubusson rug and mahogany entry table. A quick glance in the mirror above the table drew an immediate frown. Plucking a leaf from the shoulder of her nondescript white cotton tank top, she shoved it into the pocket of her denim shorts and kept going. Her hair looked as if it had been combed with her fingers, which, in fact, it had. She had a streak of dirt on her shirt, and she had abandoned her sneakers hours ago. Knowing her mother would be appalled that she was answering the door looking like an urchin, certain “J.T.” wasn’t going to care, she pulled open the door—and felt her heart slide neatly to her throat.