The Temptation of Sean MacNeill (20 page)

Uncle Jed and her mother. Rachel struggled with the might-have-
beens
and then gave up. She couldn't blame her mother for her decisions.

But she could reexamine her own.

* * *

If he couldn't have Rachel, he should at least be allowed to drink.

Sean sat on the front porch swing, his shoulder trussed and aching. He watched his brothers tip back long-necked bottles of beer, and his sense of unfairness grew.

Val intercepted his brooding look and smiled. "Get you one?" she offered.

Kate shook her head. "Not with the
Vicodin
he's taking."

Con reached out a long arm to pull his wife down beside him. "She's pregnant, anyway. She shouldn't be fetching for you. Get your own woman to wait on you."

"I tried," Sean said shortly. "She wasn't interested."

Con raised his eyebrows. "Uh-oh."

Kate asked quietly, "How is Rachel?"

Patrick set down his bottle with a decisive clink. "She's fine. He's the one who got shot."

Val addressed the porch in general. "I just love it when he does the protective big brother routine, don't you?"

Sean ignored her. "Rachel's doing all right."

"Did they arrest the other man? The one in
Philadelphia
?" Kate pressed.

"They got him. According to Gowan, Frank's busy talking himself out of the extortion charge, and Carmine's trying to convince the feds shooting at us was all his nephew's idea. They should have enough to put both Bilottis away for a long time."

"How are the kids?" Patrick asked.

"The kids are fine. Rachel is fine. Her life is back in its safe little rut, and she has everything she ever wanted." Sean glared around belligerently. "Which, since you all are so interested in my private life, does not include me."

Not unsympathetically, Con asked, "Feeling sorry for yourself, are you?"

"Hell, no. Who needs her? Who needs any of it? She used me." Just like Trina had.

"Used you, how?"

"Like some stupid bodyguard." It hurt.

"But you said she told you not to follow her," Con argued logically. "The feds told you not to follow her. That Bureau guy, that Gowan, he sounded ticked that you were there at all."

He was right. Sean hunched his one good shoulder. "Yeah, well, she doesn't want anything to do with me now."

Kate frowned. "She wouldn't leave your side at the hospital. That certainly suggests that she cares about you."

The memory of Rachel's soothing touch dug into Sean like a knife. "Well, she doesn't," he muttered.

"Yeah, I could tell all along she was just interested in your body," Con drawled.

"It was more than that," Sean snarled. "I thought she had faith in me. That's what bites. That after everything, she didn't—doesn't—trust me not to let her down."

"Because you asked her to marry you and she refused," Val probed delicately.

"Yeah, I… That is, I didn't exactly propose." Con raised his eyebrows. "But you told her you loved her."

Sean tried to remember. "I think I did."

"Oh, brother."

The two women exchanged glances.

"Let me get this straight," said Patrick. "You want this woman to trust you with her future and her kids, but you didn't tell her you love her or that you want to marry her."

Put like that, it sounded bad. Fear touched him. "That wasn't how it was," Sean protested.

"He blew it," Con decided. "Mr. Fast-Talk-Fast-Hands blew it."

"I think it's sweet," Val said.

Sean panicked. Had he really screwed up? "Sweet, my—"

"Watch it," Patrick said mildly.

Sean hauled himself up. The swing banged against the wall. He was a turnip head. An idiot. With all the disappointments in her past, Rachel needed reassurance more than most women. How could he have been so blind? "I've got to go to her. I've got to tell her—"

"You may not have to go anywhere," Kate said. "Look."

He didn't recognize the car nosing up the long drive, but he thought he knew that cautious turn, the law-abiding speed.

His heart slammed into his chest in sudden, awful hope.

In a rented late-model Ford, Rachel Fuller was lurching back into his life. He could only pray she'd give him the chance to be a part of hers.

* * *

Rachel surveyed the assembled MacNeills, her courage crawling into her shoes. They were all there on the porch to welcome Sean home: cool Con and his beautiful, pregnant wife; Patrick, stiff with protective pride; Kate, with worry in her eyes. Their unstated message was clear.

To get to him, she had to go through them.

She wanted to tell them she was no threat to their solid family circle. She was here to make her case and go. Whatever happened after that was up to Sean.

She hitched up her resolution. She'd brought reinforcements of her own, hadn't she? Or at least, she thought with a twist of bleak humor, her own camp followers.

"Okay, troops." She shifted into park. "Let's get out of the car."

"Where's Sean?" Lindsey asked.

"I see him!" Chris shouted.

There. Standing tall in the shelter of the porch, in the shadow of the swing. He hadn't shaved, and his arm was held tight to his chest by the blue contraption he'd worn in the hospital. He looked tired, Rachel thought with concern, and so handsome her breath caught.

"We were worried about you," Chris said, running up the porch steps. "Mom said the doctor had to take a bullet out of your shoulder. Did they let you keep it? Can I see?"

Sean caught and hugged him with one arm. "The police wanted the bullet, sport. But I'll let you count my staples later."

The boy grinned, reassured. "Cool."

Lindsey stood back, biting her lip. "Are you going to be okay?"

Rachel's throat ached at the tableau they made, the big dark-haired man with the boy at his side, the dark-haired girl anxious and apart.

Sean hunkered down so that he could look Lindsey in the eyes. "Yeah," he said with absolute certainty. "I am."

She nodded once, accepting his honesty. Rachel loved that, that he'd always been straight with her daughter. Lindsey could trust him. "Then why aren't you coming home?"

Rachel sucked in her breath. Well, that was honest. Sean looked over Lindsey's head at Rachel as if she had the answer.

Damn. She hadn't counted on quite so many witnesses to her surrender. But neither could she put it off any longer.

"Con," Kate said suddenly. "Why don't you and Val take the children to the barn to check on Fluffy."

"Fuzzball," Sean corrected, never taking his eyes off Rachel. Her heart pounded.

Lindsey giggled.

"We can do that," Con said in an amused voice. He offered a hand to his pregnant wife. They strolled off arm in arm, the children running ahead.

"Patrick, can you give me a hand in the kitchen?" Kate continued.

"You want me to help you in the kitchen?" Patrick repeated carefully. Rachel remembered Kate couldn't—didn't—cook.

She gave him a significant look. "In the house. Now. Please?"

Her husband shrugged. The two of them disappeared inside, but not before Rachel heard Patrick growl. "I suppose you think he's old enough to take care of himself."

Kate's laugh floated back to the porch. "Old enough to know what he wants."

Rachel was alone with Sean. The air was thick with silence. Her palms were damp. She was no gambler, and the stakes were so incredibly high.

She cleared her throat. "I like your sister-in-law."

Sean watched her gravely. "I like her myself."

She wanted to yell at him to come down off that porch and kiss her, to say something outrageous or suggestive, to hold her hard or make her laugh.

She wanted him to make the next step easy for her. But that wasn't what they both needed, Rachel realized. Some other time, maybe, but not now. Sean needed her to offer herself without strings or qualifications. And she needed to take the risk.

I want us to be together, he'd said, but he wasn't going to make it happen. She would have to take what she wanted, the way she had out on the old logging road, not for one night, but for forever.

Or for however long he was willing to give her.

Oh, help. She put one foot on the steps.

And he came down three.

"Wait a minute," she said. "I'm coming to you."

He stopped, and gave her his slow, sexy pirate's smile, the one that scrambled her brain and liquefied her insides. "So hurry up."

She couldn't stop her answering smile, but she said seriously, "I have something to say first."

He hitched the thumb of his good hand in his pocket. "I'm listening."

"These last couple of days… It's been like this great big weight dropped off my shoulders. No phone threats. No payments. No worrying that some maniac was going to break into my house or stalk my kids." Her smile flickered. "I'm even having heart-to-hearts with my mother."

He waited silently for her to finish her say. She couldn't read his expression, not through the tears that suddenly blurred her eyes.

"But you were right," she told him. "It's not enough. I never had it so good as I did with you. I want you to come back, Sean."

"To the garage."

She moistened her dry lips. "If that's what you want. I meant, to all of us. Tome."

"Taking a chance on me, beautiful?" he asked wryly.

"Taking a chance on myself."

He moved then, taking the final step that put them on a level. His right hand lifted and touched her hair in a gesture so sweet she had to close her eyes to keep the tears from spilling.

"You aren't the only one afraid of taking risks, you know."

She opened her eyes. His face swam in her vision, dark and close and tender. "Excuse me?"

"I was holding back on you, too. I didn't want to give you the chance to say no. But I never gave you the words you needed to trust me, either."

She shook her head. He was being kind. She couldn't let herself off the hook so easily. "I should have known—I do know—what kind of a man you are. You don't have to say the words."

"Well, I'm saying them now, damn it." He knelt carefully, stiffly, because of his shoulder. "I love you, Rachel. Will you marry me?"

She stared at the top of his dark head, taken aback by the old-fashioned courtliness of his gesture. It was totally unexpected. Completely right. She felt giddy.

"You're on your knees," she said. Awed. Overcome. And more in love than she ever would have believed.

"That's how we do it in our family," he explained.

Sean was appalled when she started to cry, great gasping sobs that tore his heart. He lumbered back to his feet. "Rachel … sweetheart… It's okay if you don't feel—"

"No! Oh, no." She shook her head vehemently, her eyes shining. "I love you."

Joy sluiced through him. He put his one good arm around her and held her as tightly as he dared. Her hands curled into his shoulders. He kissed her brow, her cheek, her lips. Her cheeks were wet. He could taste the salt of her tears. Confused, he asked, "Then … is it the kids? Is it too soon? Do you need time to adjust?"

She nestled, trying to get closer despite his sling. "We don't need time. We don't need anything but you."

Powerful words, for a man who'd struggled most of his life to measure up. She knocked him off his feet. But he still didn't understand her.

"Then … what is it?"

"I never thought you would do that," she confessed simply. "I never expected anybody ever to do anything so sweet for me."

He was touched. Amused. And shaken to the heart by her declaration. "Mother in Heaven," he muttered. "What are you going to do when I give you the ring?"

Her smile shone brighter than the gold at the end of the rainbow.

"Wear it," she said. "And tell everyone I won it betting on a sure thing."

Epilogue

«
^

T
here was a man in Rachel's hotel room, in Rachel's bed. A naked man, she guessed, by the hard curve of shoulder that showed in the light from the bathroom. In the dim room, his earring winked like a promise.

Anticipation thrilled through her. She smoothed her palms down white silk, a gift from her sisters-in-law.

She cleared her throat. "It was a nice wedding."

The man in her bed opened his eyes. His dark gaze jolted her heartbeat A slow smile curved his wide mouth.

"You looked beautiful."

Rachel flushed with pleasure. She'd worn her mother's wedding veil and his grandmother's ring and carried red and white roses. Perfect for a Christmas wedding, Val announced with satisfaction.

Everything had been perfect, Rachel thought. Her bridesmaids—Kate and Val with her new son watching from her husband's arms—wore dark green velvet Lindsey, as maid of honor, trembled with pride as she walked in front of her mother up the aisle. Best man Chris had charge of the rings up until the moment Sean had said, Take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit…

Sean held his hand out to her now, and her own ring gleamed on his finger.

Without hesitation, she joined her hand with his. With a tug, he brought her down beside him on the mattress. His warm breath skated across her mouth. He smelled like toothpaste, like soap and sex and man. Her heart was so full of joy she thought she might burst with it, or weep. She smiled instead.

"Welcome home, Rachel MacNeill," Sean said, and folded her into his arms.

* * * *