Saved by the Bride (21 page)

She snuggled into him. “If we’d moved back to here I might have
been okay.”

He laughed. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. Lesson learned. It’s
terra firma for us from now on.”

He kissed her again, only this time instead of heat, lust and
demanding desire, his touch was infused with something very different from every
other kiss they’d shared. Something akin to tenderness.

It circled her heart like a warm glow and she realized with a
jolt that if she wasn’t very careful, she was at great risk of falling in love
with him.

Chapter Twelve

Kissing Annika was up there with the buzz of nailing a
multimillion-dollar contract, and Finn slowly kissed away every drop of cold
water on her cheek before turning his attention to her ear.

“Finn?”

“Hmmm.” His tongue dawdled on her lobe because he knew she
loved it and she usually responded by seeking his mouth with a moan of
wonder.

“What happened this morning?”

His tongue stalled and he slowly lifted his head to find
determined sky-blue eyes fixed on his face. He stared down at her.
“Nothing.”

Her eyes widened with skepticism. “You rowed to Whitetail to
find me.”

He trailed his finger down her cheek and gave her a long, lazy
smile, hoping he could distract her. “Sleeping with Logan’s elbow in my head
reminded me of how much I missed sleeping with you.”

Her eyelids drifted down for a moment and then snapped open. “I
don’t believe you.”

“Suit yourself.” He tried to return his attentions to her ear
but her hands pressed against his upper arms.

“I am.” She shifted slightly and a zip of air darted between
them, cooling the heat. “Something upset you.”

He hated the way she could read him. “I don’t want to talk
about it.”

She nibbled her plump bottom lip the way she always did
whenever she was thinking. “In that case I know it’s nothing to do with
AKP.”

His chest tightened at the truth of her words. “You don’t know
enough about me or the business to know any such thing.”

She didn’t deny it but the tilt of her head and the look of
sympathy in her eyes made his stomach churn.

She rested her forehead against his. “I think whatever it was
that upset you is connected to your family.”

This time he was the one to break contact. “Sorry, sweetheart,
but you’re way off course.”

“I’m betting it’s to do with your father.”

“Good for you.” He
so
wasn’t going
down this road or having this conversation with Annika. He’d found a way to deal
with his father which had worked for him for years—right up until today’s lapse
and that was all today was. A lapse. He stood up, vaulted into the front section
of the boat and brought up the anchor. “We need to get back. You need a hot
shower.”

She stayed seated. “It must be exhausting for you.”

He stowed the anchor. “It doesn’t weigh much.”

Her voice sounded behind him. “Not the anchor. I meant your
constant running away.”

His hand stilled on the ignition as her words tore into
him—their target the barely sealed lid he’d forced shut over the meltdown he’d
had at the beach with Sean. Forced tightly shut over feelings he’d only just got
back into their holding bay where he thought they’d not only been safely stored
for years, but that they’d lost their potency. No way was he allowing any of
them back out again to see the light of day. His life was exactly as he liked
it. It had taken him years but he’d found a way of dealing with Sean and he
wouldn’t allow anything to change that, least of all talking.

“We’re
all
running from something,
Annika. Care to share?”

Her sharp intake of breath sounded loud against the silence of
the cove.

He started the engine. “Didn’t think so.”

* * *

Annika slopped a base coat of paint over the warehouse
door, preparing it for the mural she’d promised Nicole she’d paint. Using broad
brush strokes, she quickly covered the surface. She wanted to find her Zen and
get into the spirit of the painting but Finn’s inference that her living in
Whitetail was running away kept eating into her like acid on paper. She wasn’t
running away. She was the acting mayor and her job was to find the town an
industry that offered full employment.

She flicked her brush over the edges of the door. She would
have told him all of that out on the boat except he’d deliberately cut her off
with the noise of the engine. By the time they’d got back to the cabin she was
shivering so much she’d raced straight to the shower and when she’d finished
drying her hair, she’d walked out to find the cabin empty and a note on the
table.

At
the
office
.
Nothing
for
you
to
do
so
enjoy
the
afternoon
. She wasn’t at all surprised that Finn had
run to the safety of the office. He’d gone to the one place he felt most
comfortable and she could picture him surrounded by the protective force field
of work.

As she waited for the base to dry, she stared at the wedding
photo of Jennifer and Carl sitting in Al’s carriage. Both of them were smiling
and waving and Main Street, with its colorful profusion of flowering hanging
baskets and fluttering flags, formed the backdrop behind them. They looked happy
and so very much in love. A blurry image of a man in a tuxedo with dark, dark
eyes wafted through her mind and, with a start, she realized she was biting her
lip.

She tasted blood.
This
is
crazy
.

With a zealous push she pinned the photo to the door frame so
she could see it while she painted. She didn’t want to get married. The last
time she’d toyed with that idea she’d been so badly betrayed it had taken her a
long time to recover. Now she was well and truly over Ryan and content with her
life—almost content. When Whitetail got a new industry,
then
she could relax and enjoy her life living where she truly
belonged.

Two years ago, she’d packed up one very different life and an
unworn wedding dress, and she was never going to do something that painful
again. Ever. She didn’t need a man in her life to be happy. This affair with
Finn was exactly what she needed to keep unwanted sentimental thoughts at bay.
She blew out a breath and picked up her pallet. It was time to bring Main Street
to the warehouse door.

* * *

Finn stood watching Annika paint. Given that he could
barely sketch out a stick figure, he’d been enjoying watching her for the past
five minutes, and he marveled at how she made it look effortlessly easy. Under
her talented hand what had looked to be brown blobs of paint one minute were
suddenly hanging baskets with flowers tumbling out of them.

He’d spent the last couple of hours in the office and as he’d
checked figures and cross-referenced projections, he’d finally found the calm
that had eluded him all day. Once it had arrived, seeped in and soothed, he’d
wanted to see Annika. Not sure of his reception, he hadn’t called but had
arrived unannounced. He was shifting his weight so he could see around her
shoulder, when a stick cracked under his foot. She turned around, surprise clear
in the depths of her eyes. Her cheek had a streak of cerise, the hair on her
left temple looked faintly blue and her misshapen T-shirt looked like a Jackson
Pollock painting. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she
sagged against him all soft and warm.

She put down her pallet and wiped her hands on an old rag. “I
didn’t hear you drive up.”

He shrugged. “I walked.”

Her chestnut brows rose. “You
are
getting a lot of exercise today.”

He stepped in close and brushed stray strands of her hair
behind her ear. “I guess that means I’ll sleep well tonight.”

Disappointment raced across her expressive face. “I suppose you
will.”

He laughed, loving the way she enjoyed sex as much as he did.
“I’ll need an early night which means you and I have to eat at the cabin, and
we’re not inviting anyone to sleep over.”

“Sounds like a great idea to me.” She slid her arms around his
waist, rose up on her toes and kissed him.

As her lips touched his, relief slid in. He wrapped his arms
around her and kissed her back.

A couple of minutes later Annika used every grain of her
self-control and pulled back from the kiss before she ruined the painting by
pushing the door open and dragging him inside to one of the couches. “I’ll
finish this tomorrow. Just give me five minutes to clean my brushes and then we
can go.”

Finn kissed her gently on the cheek and spun her out of his
arms. “It’s looking good.”

“Hmmm.” She wasn’t so sure, which was mostly because her heart
wasn’t in it, although she’d enjoyed the process. “I saw it differently.”

He tilted his head. “It looks exactly like Main Street.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s supposed to.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I had a different painting in mind but Nicole and Melissa want
to promote the idea of the town being the bride’s for the day.”

“That sounds like a good business plan.”

She swished her paint brushes briskly in the turpentine. “What
if a bride is scared of horses or doesn’t want to get married in summer? She’s
hardly going to relate to this scene then, is she?”

“So what would you have painted?” he asked mildly.

If she was truthful with herself she would probably have said
“nothing” because soon the warehouses would be filled with a business that
employed a lot of people.
Soon
,
please
,
soon
. When that happened, Nicole
would have to find another space for Weddings That WOW—that’s if it lasted
beyond the two bookings they had. But right now Finn was looking at her as if he
expected an answer. “I would have painted something that creates atmosphere.
Something that announces to the brides-to-be that they’re entering an enchanted
world.”

He shrugged. “But that isn’t specific to the town. I think
Nicole and Melissa are on to something with their branding.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. First the town was
running wild with the idea weddings would save them and now Finn was saying it
wasn’t totally off the mark. Her worries about the whole endeavor spilled over.
“There’s no business or branding plan. This all came from an off-the-cuff
comment on a post-wedding high. Sure, they have two weddings booked but that
happened only because of a tiny TV news story linked with the Callahan
name.”

“Successful businesses have started with less.” He raised a
knowing brow. “And you’ve got work from it.”

She sighed at the dilemma that put her in. “I know, and I
appreciate it but I just can’t see Weddings That WOW as a viable business that
will provide employment for more than a few. I sometimes feel like I’m the only
person who really understands how serious things will be if we don’t replace
Reggies. Everyone’s energies should be focused on a sustainable industry rather
than running off on a tangent.”

“A wedding business can be sustainable because people will
always be getting married. Don’t ask me why they keep getting married, but they
do.” He shook his head, sending curls bouncing, and sarcasm leeched out of him.
“And more than once as my father has so admirably demonstrated.”

She saw the tic of a muscle in his cheek and it reinforced all
her beliefs about Finn and Sean’s relationship and again she wished she could
help. “Twice?”

He shook his head. “Dana is wife number three. Between creating
an empire, getting married and getting divorced, it didn’t leave Sean with a lot
of time for much else, especially parenting. I was fourteen years old at wedding
number two, which lasted a solid twenty-four months. Given all that, I have no
clue why Bridey wants to even try. I sure as hell won’t be.”

“She’s in love.”

His bark of laughter whipped her. “Love destroys more than it
ever builds.”

And there is was—another reminder that what they had was very
temporary. She stacked it up as part of the wall she was building to protect her
heart.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “So why are you painting
the mural if you’re not happy about it?”

She folded up her drop sheet. “Because I paint and they
don’t.”

“I thought your painting was a passing phase?” He picked up her
paint box and gave her a look that said, “I think you’re hiding something.” “But
that’s not strictly true, is it?”

Her heart rate kicked up and she wondered what he knew. The
town had always been very protective of her, which was another reason she loved
living here. “I dabbled but I’m busy being acting mayor. You know how much time
that takes up seeing as you’re sponsoring my correspondence with most of
America’s manufacturing sector.”

“You did more than just dabble, Annika.”

His quietly spoken words made her fingers fumble as she
searched for the truck’s keys in her backpack. “I think I know how much I did or
didn’t paint.”

“I did an internet search on you.”

A chill shot through her and her voice squeaked. “You’ve been
spying on me?”

He shook his head slowly. “No. I just typed your name into the
browser in the exact same way you did with mine.”

Guilt pricked her indignation. He was right, she’d done that
many times, trying to learn more about him other than Finn Callahan the
businessman. She hadn’t found out much at all except one article that mentioned
him rescuing baby birds when he was a kid. She took a deep breath and decided it
was easier to face this head-on. “So what did you find out?”

“That you majored in fine arts and you had a promising career.”
He smiled and his eyes filled with encouragement. “I saw the photographs of your
series of lighthouses on the Great Lakes. They’re an interesting fusion of the
past and the present.”

She bit her lip, instantly recalling Ryan’s bitter words about
those paintings. “That’s
not
how the critics
described them.”

He shrugged. “Art’s subjective. What’s one person’s pleasure is
another’s poison.”

But she knew what she knew and she crossed her arms over her
chest to stop herself from shaking. “So you would have read about how my show
brought about the financial collapse of the Raybould Gallery?”