A Love Surrendered (34 page)

He exhaled loudly, one edge of his lip crooking up. “His way or the highway, huh?”

She patted his cheek. “His way
is
the ‘high’ way, Agent O’Connor,” she said softly, lips sliding into an imp of a smile. “And as a federal agent who prides himself on toeing the line, I suggest when you’re with me, you keep all toes
and
hands from inching over, okay?”

“I can’t help but notice there was no mention of lips,” he said, a bit of the rake in his tone while his mouth hovered over hers. “Something for which I am
most
grateful.” Before she could respond, he bent to kiss her, a tender wisp of his lips against hers—gentle, soft, innocent—like Susannah Kennedy herself, and so chaste it almost felt reverent. Eyes closed, he reveled in the taste of her, the scent of honeysuckle and Tabu creating a magical moment unlike any he’d ever known. He wanted to tell her he loved her, but he refrained, because the truth was, he wasn’t sure. Not sure it wasn’t lust like with Maggie, and unsure he could trust himself with a love as tender
as the girl he held in his arms. Breaking the connection, he stepped away and exhaled, mouth crooking into a smile. “Well, you haven’t stomped on my toes yet, so I guess that was okay.”

“More than okay,” she whispered, the sweet blush in her cheeks making him want to kiss her all over again. Her lips trembled into a smile. “I love you, Steven.”

He stared, throat muscles working hard to fight a similar response. He cupped a palm to her cheek. “Have a good night, Annie,” he whispered. “At least, as good as you made mine.” Slipping his hands in his pockets, he sprinted to the street, grinning all the way to the car. Because
his
bottom line was—“good” didn’t even come close.

Exhausted, Steven glanced at his watch before veering his father’s Model T onto Worth Street, where except for the buzz of locusts and the glow of streetlights, silence and darkness prevailed at one o’clock in the morning. Shifting gears, he sagged over the wheel as he drove, the cross from St. Stephen’s spire catching his eye, reminding him of Annie. His smile sloped sideways. But then everything reminded him of Annie these days, it seemed.

He rubbed his bristled jaw as he coasted to a stop at the stop sign, wondering how on earth an innocent kid of barely eighteen could disarm a twenty-five-year-old federal agent who raided speakeasies for a living, tangled with disgruntled bouncers, and carried a gun. But disarm him she had, reducing him to a stammering sixteen-year-old with overactive hormones all over again. He blasted out a weary sigh. And to be painfully honest, he wasn’t all that sure he liked it.

Oh, he liked Annie all right, and heaven knows he liked the attraction she stirred—a little too much according to her—but he had to admit a part of him felt uncomfortable with the control she wielded. Since senior year in high school, he’d always called the shots with women, held the reins, gotten
his way, but not this time apparently. Even as free-spirited as Maggie had been, Steven had always known she’d go to any lengths to keep him around. And she had. His gut tightened. But, that wasn’t what he wanted from Annie.

Was it?

A familiar guilt crawled in his chest, thinning his air, and he knew it wasn’t, not deep down. But on the surface? Oh yeah . . . desire waged a war Steven had fought too many times before . . . and lost. But Annie was different, he argued, and a part of him was desperate to keep her that way. Unfortunately, it was at war with the part of him that didn’t want to. The part of him that wanted to hold her, kiss her, express his love in a way that seemed to control him as much as he wanted to control her. A way that felt so right and good at the time, but then ate away, both at his gut and the relationship he longed to have. Annie’s innocence and purity had captured him from the start, a glimmering oasis in a parched and thirsty wasteland littered with his own mistakes. From the very beginning, all he’d wanted was to protect her from men who would taint her, marring the very beauty that drew them. Steven downshifted at another stop sign, guilt stabbing anew.
But who’s going to protect her from me?

Exhaling heavily, he glanced at St. Stephen’s church, squinting over at the dimly lit school yard where a group of guys were involved in a game of moonlight basketball. A grin tugged and he pulled the Model T to the curb, arms draped over his door to hail his older brother. “Hey, O’Connor!”

Sean turned, a flash of white teeth in a tan face gleaming with sweat. He jogged over to the car with a basketball under his arm, muscles slick from exertion on a September night far too steamy for basketball. Leaning in, he rested damp arms on the open window, thick blond brows arched high as he assessed Steven’s loosened tie and rolled-up sleeves. “The graveyard shift again? I thought you’d be out tonight with Annie or Joe.”

“Special assignment,” Steven said with a twist of his lips, remembering how much he’d enjoyed Saturday night detail
before Annie. “Spent the day at the zoo with Annie and her sister, then dinner and games at her aunt’s before duty called.”

An easy grin tipped his brother’s lips. “Mmm . . . zoo with the kid sister and dinner with the family—sounds serious.”

Steven’s mouth quirked, his brother’s probing statement prickling more than expected. The last thing he wanted was his family knowing how he felt about Annie. “Yeah, well, what it sounds like and what it is are two different things,” he said, tone defensive. “I like the kid and we have fun together, but don’t read any more into it than that.” He paused, gaze flicking to the group of guys on the court. “But talk about serious—you guys are way over the top if you’re tossing a ball around in this steam bath.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Sean swatted at a mosquito. “Yeah, the guys are pretty crazed when it comes to midnight basketball games.” Sean turned back with a grin. “But then they’re single and don’t have to raid speakeasies on Saturday nights, so the poor slobs have to burn excess energy off some way, I guess.”

Steven shook his head, his smile flat. “I’ll tell you what, Sean, you sure lucked out with Emma. Can’t imagine many women who’d stand for midnight basketball with the guys.”

“She’s one in a million all right, but then luck didn’t have a whole lot to do with it.”

Somehow the statement nettled, and Steven fought off a scowl. All of his life, Sean had been the older brother he’d looked up to, the man he respected, and the bachelor he wanted to emulate. But when he’d abandoned his buddies and bachelorhood to fall in love with Emma last year, Steven suddenly felt alienated from the brother who’d always commiserated with him on religion and relationships. Overnight, Sean had gone from avoiding both like the plague to an all-out allegiance to God and marriage, happily committed to a woman and a faith that had transformed him into a new man. A weary sigh seeped through Steven’s lips. A man who obviously wouldn’t understand the struggles Steven now faced with Annie.

Or would he?

“Hey, you need a ride home?” Steven squinted, a sudden urge to talk to his brother.

A slow grin worked its way across Sean’s face. “Sure.” He tossed his basketball onto the seat and called over his shoulder, “Hey, guys, I’m calling it a night. See you next week.” Rounding the car, he slipped in on the other side and slammed the door, gingerly rolling his neck with a groan. “Man, I’m getting too old for this.”

Steven eyed the ball on the seat. “So you can take your ball and go home, just like that?”

“Why not?” Another grin creased his lips. “I’ve got someone to go home to—these poor clowns don’t. Besides, Joe brought his, so they’ll be another hour or so.” He tapped the roof over his door. “Fifteen thirteen Dorchester, and take the scenic route.” Positioning an arm over the back of the seat, his easy grin faded enough for Steven to notice. “So . . . what’s on your mind?”

Steven shook his head, wondering how his older brother did it. From childhood on, it seemed as if Sean had always been able to read his thoughts, hone in when Steven was in turmoil, know when he needed to talk.
A bloomin’ mind reader,
he thought with a quirk of his lips
.
He slid him a sideways smile, nervous about revealing his weakness with Annie. “What makes you think something’s on my mind?”

Another gleam of teeth put Steven at ease, his brother’s easy manner taking the edge off an awkward subject. “Well, if the knuckled grip isn’t a dead giveaway, the tic in your jaw is.”

Steven glimpsed in the rearview mirror, shaking his head as he headed down the street. “I swear, you always did have a sixth sense.”

Sean hiked a well-worn Ked to the dash, leg jiggling along with the vehicle. “How do you think I managed to stay single so long? I could smell trouble a mile away, especially the female kind.”

“Yeah, well, me too,” Steven said, taking a corner with a zag of his lips, “which is why I’m looking for advice.”

The jiggling stopped. “This about Annie?”

Heat ringed Steven’s collar as he veered onto Sean’s street before coasting to a stop in front of his house. “Yeah,” he said, shifting the vehicle into park. He turned off the ignition and exhaled a noisy breath, sagging over the wheel. “I guess I like the kid more than I’m letting on, Sean, but I sure in the blazes don’t want anybody else to know,
especially
our mother or sisters.” He shook his head, gaze straight ahead. “That would be a living nightmare.”

“Well, they won’t hear it from me, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Sean paused. “But when you say you don’t want anybody to know . . . does that include Annie?”

Leaning back to rest his head on the seat, Steven closed his eyes. “Yeah, it includes Annie, but I think it may be a little late for that, especially after tonight. The kid may be naïve, but she’s smart. I’m pretty sure she can spot a sucker in love when she sees one.”

“Are you?” Sean studied him while he idly tossed the ball from hand to hand.

Steven slid him a sideways glance, hackles prickling again. “A sucker in love? Heck, no,” he emphasized with a press of lips, unwilling to admit Annie controlled the relationship. “Or at least I don’t want to be. I mean, I like Annie a lot . . .” He rested his arm on the open window, thumb tracing the leather casing. “But I’m not a guy who likes the girl to call the shots.”

“When you say ‘call the shots’ . . . ,” Sean said slowly, “what do you mean, exactly?”

Steven stared out his window, his comfort level sinking along with his stomach. “I mean controlling the relationship, telling me what I can and cannot do, you know—things.”

Sean’s pause was too long to suit. “You mean sexual things, like keeping you in line?”

“Yeah,” Steven said, suddenly feeling as big a jerk in front of Sean as he had in front of Annie. He peered at his brother. “Look, Sean, I’m not talking about going too far or anything
like that, but the kid about had a conniption tonight when I kissed her, telling me if it happened again, we were through.”

A low whistle parted from Sean’s lips. “Over a kiss? That must have been some kiss. You don’t find many women like that around anymore. Did you cross the line or something?”

Fire singed the back of his neck. “Are you kidding? In her aunt’s house? Not on your life. It was just an innocent kiss on the floor, nothing more.”

The ball froze midair. “On the floor?” Sean’s voice climbed an octave. “As in stretched out . . . the two of you . . . side by side?” He whistled again. “Gotta tell you, Steven, that’s asking for trouble.”

“Yeah, well, apparently she thought so too, ’cause she read me the riot act, tripping my temper so fast, I wanted to wash my hands altogether.”

“Why?”

Steven stared, jaw gaping. “Why? Because I’m a grown man, that’s why. An adult who doesn’t like some kid telling me how it’s going to be.”

“Wait—aren’t you the one always complaining how loose the women are today?” Sean asked, the ball back in action. “I would think a girl like Annie would be a breath of fresh air.” He hesitated, the ball slowing again. “Unless, of course, that’s not really what you’re looking for . . .”

“I’m not looking for anything,” Steven said too quickly, “except spending time with a girl I like and maybe having a little fun—period. I’ll tell you one thing I’m
not
looking for, though, is getting serious now or anytime soon.”

“Sounds like your idea of ‘fun’ might conflict with Annie’s, then.” Sean quietly placed the ball on the seat between them. “And God’s.”

Steven slid his brother a narrow gaze. “Come on, Sean, you’re not going to sit there and tell me that you didn’t do your fair share of necking before Emma, because I know better. And that’s all I’m talking about here, nothing more.”

Sean released a weighty sigh. “No, I’m not going to tell
you I didn’t get off track a few times, because I did, which is something I’m not proud of. But . . . that’s exactly why I know your idea of ‘fun’ could lead to way more than you bargain for, Steven. You should know that better than anyone after your relationship with Maggie.”

Steven pinched the bridge of his nose, his tone defeated. “I know,” he said quietly, “which is why I’m worried. I like the kid a lot and the last thing I want to do is mess this up.”