Cavanaugh’s Woman (16 page)

Didn’t want to see her.

Didn’t want her.

Eventually, she told herself, closing her eyes to keep the tears from coming again, that was going to sink in. But not now.

Moira opened her eyes and sighed. She couldn’t go on moping like this, like one half of some tragic star-crossed lovers’ duo. It had to stop, here and now. Before she lost any more weight and became a walking advertisement for matches.

What she needed, she decided, was a long, hot soothing bath. And a sandwich.

The doorbell rang just as she’d finally mustered enough oomph to dig herself out of the soft, enfolding leather of her sofa and get to her feet.

It was almost eleven. Nobody ever called or visited her around this time when she was filming. Something had to be wrong. Thinking of all sorts of scenarios, none of them good, she was at the door in a second, adrenaline making short work of her lack of energy. “Who is it?”

“Open the door, Moira. It’s me.”

With adrenaline rushing through her, Moira managed to stand absolutely still. Wishful thinking was playing tricks on her mind. On her ears. “Shaw?” she uttered uncertainly.

“Yes.”

She didn’t remember the code to disarm the alarm. Didn’t remember disarming it. Somehow, her fingers followed the pattern they had to hit to keep the siren from going off even as she was yanking on the handle, opening the door.

She stared at him in complete silence, unable to believe he wasn’t some figment of her imagination. She’d spent two weeks seeing him everywhere. Her mind had finally gone into overdrive.

Moira was afraid of being disappointed. Again. “What are you doing here?” She waited for him to disappear, to turn into thin air. His molecules didn’t rearrange. He was still there.

She wasn’t stepping back, wasn’t letting him in. After arriving at LAX, he’d spent the better part of the day gathering his nerve together. It had taken him this long to finally come to her house.

Was this a mistake? Had he blown it?

Fear galvanized his spine. He wasn’t leaving until he made this right. “A simple ‘Hello, good to see you’ would be nice.”

“Hello, good to see you,” she parroted, still absolutely stunned, still expecting him to vanish. But just in case he was real, she stepped back, opening the door wider. “What are you doing here?” she repeated.

He crossed the threshold. Expecting to see opulence, he saw a tastefully decorated living room instead. This could have been anyone’s house.

It was
her
house and every nerve ending in his body made him aware of that.

“Seems my family thinks I need to see you.” He turned around to face her as she closed the door. “Said they’d be forced to kill me if I didn’t.”

For the first time since before she’d left Aurora, she felt a smile entering her being. “And why would they do that?”

“Because, according to them, I’ve been a pain in the butt to live with.”

She had a feeling that it had been more strongly voiced than that. “Oh?”

He felt irritated. Irritated that he was here, irritated that his emotions wouldn’t allow him just to back away and be a man. Irritated that he needed her more than he needed air. And every ounce of irritation was evident in his voice.

“Yes, ‘oh.’ Look, I know this doesn’t have a chance in hell of working out—”

Oh, but it does. And you took the first step. You’re here.
“And why is that?”

He blew out a breath. Was she going to make him draw her a picture? “Because you’re a movie star.”

Moira cocked her head as if she was fascinated by his reasoning. “And you’re prejudiced?”

He couldn’t begin to compete, to give her the kind of lifestyle that she was accustomed to. “No, it’s just that you’re used to better things—”

Shaking her head, she cut him off. “You know, if you’ve come all this way to try to convince me that you don’t want to see me, you could have saved yourself the airfare.”

“No, that’s just it. I know all the reasons against it, but I still want to see you.”

He saw her grinning at him. That grin that promised to undo him and bring him to his knees. “Well, then, I’d say you were going about making your case very badly.”

He’d be the first one to agree about that. Talking had never been his best form of communication. “What should I say?”

She laced her fingers through his. “You could start by telling me how you feel.”

“Like a damn fool.”

Moira laughed. At least he was honest. “Something a little more romantic than that.”

His tone softened as he caressed her cheek. “A damn fool who’s in love with you.”

Wonderful things were coming in to displace the sadness she’d been forced to live with these past two weeks. “Better.”

What the hell, he might as well make a clean sweep of it and tell her everything. “And since you’ve been gone, I can’t seem to concentrate.”

She drew close to him, drawn by the look in his eyes. “Keep going.”

He wanted her. Not just for now, but forever. Although this second would be nice, too. “And you’ll probably tell me I’m crazy—”

She quickly shook her head, stopping him. “You’re veering off the track again.”

He went for broke, because he couldn’t stand tiptoeing around it anymore. If she turned him down, he’d take it like a man and leave.

The hell he would, he realized, looking into her eyes. He was going to wage a campaign, a war, until she gave in. And took him as her willing prisoner.

“Would you tell me I was completely insane if I told you that I wanted to marry you?”

“No.”

The word stood alone, without any embellishments. She was paying him back, he thought. “Is that an answer to my proposal?”

“You haven’t proposed yet,” she replied simply, struggling to keep her emotions in check when all she wanted to do was throw her arms around his neck and scream, “Yes.” “That’s an answer to your question about whether or not I thought you were insane.” And then she grinned so broadly, she was sure her face was going to crack. “You know, for a man of few words, you’re really, really not using them very well.”

He slipped his arms around her. The look in her eyes told him he had nothing to fear anymore. “Which ones should I use?”

“Guess.”

He said the ones that he’d been carrying around in his heart since she’d left. “Will you marry me?”

“Bingo.”

“Is that your answer?”

He couldn’t carry off the deadpan. She laughed at the attempt. “No, my answer is yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

And then, because he’d been raised to be the cautious one, he had to give her a way out. “But there’s so much to work out.”

She knew that. She also knew that they had the most important thing down pat. They loved each other and he’d come to tell her that.

“And we will,” she promised. “One detail at a time. Everything’s possible with love.” Suddenly, she felt lighter than air, even as her body was heating. She rose up on her toes, her body swaying into his. “Let’s start out with the honeymoon.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“See, I knew we were of like minds. Everything else is just secondary.”

And as he kissed her, Shaw knew she was right.

ISBN: 978-1-4268-7039-2

CAVANAUGH’S WOMAN

Copyright © 2004 by Marie Rydzynski-Ferrarella

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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