Dawson's Fall (Welcome to Covendale #5) (8 page)

“Really. Because he had me pretty convinced he would, the night of that damned party.”

It was her turn to stare. “What are you talking about?”

“Your father came after me,” Mark said. “Right after I left. He was raving about how I’d assaulted you. If Jonah hadn’t found me, I’d be dead.”

“Jason,” she whispered. “Oh my God. He really did call.”

“Apparently.”

She shook herself and met his gaze. “I am so sorry,” she said. “He must’ve been terrible to you. But I swear, he wouldn’t have hurt—”

“He had a gun.”

Everything in her froze.

“So, I’ll say it again. You don’t know your father very well.” Mark’s jaw firmed. “Now do you understand why we can’t work together?”

Her heart dropped into her stomach. “There has to be an explanation,” she said. “It was a fake, or it wasn’t loaded. Something. I’ll talk to him.”

“Yeah, you do that. But we still can’t work together.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a Monroe, and I’m a Dawson.”

She shivered as she caught the pain in his voice again. “What if we could end this stupid feud?” she said. The idea of trying to talk to her father and brother about this scared the hell out of her, but maybe it was the only way. “It’s been such a long time, and it was never your fault in the first place. I really think I can get my family to see reason.”

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t tell me you can fix it,” he said in roughened tones. “I can’t stand—Christ, just don’t.”

He looked miserable enough to alarm her. “Mark, what’s wrong?”

“Five minutes are up,” he ground out. “You need to leave.”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Everything, damn it!” He stood so fast, the entire couch jolted. “Get out of my house. Before I do something you’ll regret.”

She rose slowly, confused and hurt. “Tell me why,” she said. “Why don’t you want me to fix it?”

“Never mind why. You’re about the stubbornest woman on the planet, sweetheart.”

“Fine.” She stepped closer to him. “While we’re at it, what’s wrong with my name?”

“Back off, princess.”

“That’s not it, either.” Another step brought her inches from him, and her heart hammered in her chest. “Tell me why.”

“Please,” he groaned. “I’m begging you. Stay away from me.”

The sudden change in him broke her heart and brought tears to her eyes. “Do you really hate me that much?” she whispered.

She could see him struggling to respond. Finally, he said, “No. I don’t hate you.”

“Then…why?”

He shuddered visibly. “Because I’m a Dawson.”

“Mark…”

“Just leave!” His voice broke on the words. “You’re killing me. Can’t you see that?” He narrowed his eyes. “Or is that what you’re trying to do?”

She grabbed his shirt, pulled him down, and kissed him.

He responded with a soft moan, his stiffness yielding instantly. For a moment she was drowning—but then he jerked back and glared at her. “All right,” he snarled. “You’ve had your fun. I get it, payback’s a bitch. Now leave.”

“Payback?” she echoed angrily. “If you think I did that for revenge, you’re an idiot.”

“Oh, right. You did it because you want me.”

“Yes! That’s exactly why I did it!”

“Come on, sweetheart. You got a bridge in Brooklyn you want to sell me, too?”

She kissed him again, fast and furious. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”

Whatever battle he was fighting, she watched his eyes darken as he lost it.

Then his hands were on her, his mouth on her lips. One minute she was in his arms, tugging at his shirt until he stripped it off with a growl and she could finally touch him. He was everything she’d imagined—hot, hard, perfect. The next she was on the couch, his lips at her throat and a hand up her shirt, stroking her skin until she shivered.

“Last chance,” he murmured against her.

“For what?”

“To leave.” He raised up to look at her, pain and longing etched on his face. “I won’t be able to stop.”

She smiled. “I don’t want you to stop.”

He made a desperate sound, almost a sob, and went back to kissing her.

The things he did to her, the feelings invoked by his touch, made her frantic. God, she wanted this. And she’d never admitted it before, not even to herself. He was a Dawson, and she was supposed to hate him.

But it was too late for second thoughts now. Too late for anything but surrender to the explosive passion building inside her.

He’d stripped her down to bra and panties, and she reached for his jeans. He shuddered as her fingers brushed the firm bulge of his cock, flinched when she popped the button free. With a snarl of impatience, he finished the job and covered her body with his. “Let me in,” he panted, his hand gripping the curve of her ass, easing her panties down. “I’ve waited too long for this.”

She couldn’t help a teasing smile. “Five minutes?”

“Years.”

The single word hit her hard. “Years?” she whispered.

“Eight of them.” She felt him tremble as he struggled to restrain himself. “That’s a long damned time to wait.”

“Yes, it is,” she managed, hardly able to believe what she was hearing. All this time she figured he’d forgotten her, and her coming back had triggered the old grudge match. She’d never really stopped thinking about him—but she didn’t even consider he might have felt the same.

If it was true, this changed everything.

“Aubrey, please,” he said hoarsely. “I can’t…”

Hearing him say her name shattered every doubt. “Then don’t,” she said. “No more waiting.”

He groaned, and slipped into her.

A gasp tore itself from her throat. She was already wet and throbbing, and his cock filling her was impossibly delicious. She arched against him, hungry for his thick, hot length, and he obliged by driving deeper.

She clung to his back as he rocked in and out. He seemed to savor every sensation—touching every part of her, his tongue tasting her mouth and tantalizing her nipples until she cried out with pleasure. And when she tightened around his cock, he let out a rasping shout and pumped faster.

She came just before he did, screaming his name and digging her nails into his heaving back. Eyes closed, teeth clenched, he thrust a final time and shivered into stillness.

She couldn’t move if she wanted to. Apparently she hadn’t really had orgasms before now, because she’d never felt anything like that. Her entire body tingled with aftershocks, and the warm weight of him against her kept the sensations alive.

Eventually he shifted and pushed himself up, leaving her shivering in the absence of his heat. He stared at her for a long time without a word. Finally, he sighed and moved away completely.

“Mark?”

Nothing.

The silence stung. She sat up slowly, willing him to look at her. “Please say something.”

His jaw twitched. “I can’t.”

“You can’t what?”

He faced her with a blazing expression. “I can’t do this. You and me? It can’t happen. Christ, why did I ever think—” His shoulders fell. “This was a mistake.”

He might as well have punched her in the gut.

“A mistake,” she said, trying to keep the tremor from her voice. “Whoops, I accidently had sex with you. Is that what this was?”

“Something like that.”

He looked away again, and sick fury welled in her gut. “You did this to make me quit,” she said. “Didn’t you?”

His eyes closed. After an eternity, he said, “Is it working?”

“You son of a bitch.”

He winced. “What did you expect?” he said in strained tones. “I’m a Dawson.”

“Remember earlier, when I said I don’t hate you? I lied.” She stood and dressed as fast as she could. “I’ve always hated you. And I was just horny, so thanks for scratching my itch. Your services are no longer required.”

He turned a dead stare on her. “Same here, sweetheart.”

“You know what? I don’t care if you lose your business. I was hired, and I’m not quitting.” God, why did this have to hurt so much? He obviously didn’t have any problems hurting her. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said. “So sleep on that, you bastard.”

She walked away fast, blinded by unshed tears, and nearly walked straight into the door before she managed to fumble it open and bolt for her car. Every word she’d spoken had been a lie. Even though she desperately wanted to hate him, she couldn’t—and that just made everything worse.

Her family was right. The Dawsons were bad news…especially Mark.

* * * *

Mark stayed where he was for a long time, staring at nothing in particular. He’d gotten into more fights than he could remember over the years, and more than once he’d come away bloodied, battered, and broken.

Right now he was completely unscathed—but he’d never been this hurt.

Idiot wasn’t a big enough word for what he’d done. He hadn’t fought the temptation hard enough. She’d showed up at his house, with his favorite whiskey, and said she wanted him. And he should have been stronger and said no.

But he didn’t. So he had to hurt her, in order to save her.

It killed him to do that.

Even if she really did want him, there was no way to make it work. Her family would never stand for it. If they found out she’d been with him, they’d cut her out. And that would hurt her a lot more than he ever could.

He had nothing to offer her. The Monroes had wealth, power, and respect—everything the Dawsons didn’t. Being with him on any level would ruin her life.

So it was better to close things off like this, instead of trying to pretend they had a chance in hell of being together. At least this way, she was only hurt once.

He was pretty sure he’d never stop hurting.

After a while, he made himself get up. The last thing he needed was for Jonah to find him half-naked on the couch and interrogate him into a confession. He dressed stiffly, carried the tumblers into the kitchen, rinsed and put them away. Then he brought the bottle up to his room and locked himself in.

He’d lost all desire to savor the Scotch. Now he only wanted oblivion, and he didn’t care how he got there.

It wouldn’t last long enough—but it was a start.

Chapter 8

Aubrey didn’t sleep at all that night.

She cried herself to exhaustion, but her thoughts wouldn’t stop churning. It had been hard enough trying to deal with every disaster in her life since she came back to Covendale. Now her attempt to fix just one thing had made everything a thousand times worse.

It was enough to make her consider quitting after all. Not just the job, but this town…right now, for good. She must’ve gotten up a dozen times, alternately determined to pack up and leave, or grow a spine and stick it out.

By morning she’d decided that she wasn’t going to work. At least, not right away.

She had a tentative plan. Aching and bleary-eyed, she sat at her kitchen table with a strong cup of coffee and tried to hash it out. First of all, she wouldn’t quit. Staying on the job was the only way she could get back at Mark for what he’d done to her.

But to do that, she had to confront her family.

She couldn’t spend the next two months dodging and evading while she worked with the enemy. The stress was already killing her, and it had only been a few days. Her father and brother would be pissed, but she knew how to diffuse the situation—Mrs. Joliet Vanderbright. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of that before.

Mrs. V. had hired the Dawsons, and she was a huge client for the bank. So they wouldn’t risk upsetting her. They’d have to accept the fact that she was working with Dawson Construction at Mrs. V.’s insistence. She’d just go to the bank, where they couldn’t make a scene, and tell them.

Then she’d head back to the job site and shove her continuing employment in Mark’s face.

Covendale Savings and Loan was a sprawling, well-landscaped brick building in the heart of downtown, at the corner of Main and Spring. Aubrey arrived a little after ten, just in case Jason had decided to go in late. Her nerves hummed and fluttered as she parked the car and went inside, but she reminded herself what was at stake here. Pride and peace of mind.

And revenge.

Much like the bar, the bank hadn’t changed in the past eight years. Her attention was drawn to the big, windowed corner office that was Jason’s now, and she saw her brother behind the desk—and her father standing in front of it, talking and laughing.

Perfect. Now if she could just get through this without puking her guts out.

She walked over and opened the door. Both of them turned with identical looks of annoyance that morphed into smiles. “Aubrey!” her father said. “I thought you’d be working right now.”

Jason smirked. “You totally blew me off last night, didn’t you?”

“No, I’m going to work. I just…” She entered the office, closing the door behind her. “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Sure we can.” Roger looked concerned. “Is everything okay? You’re not having trouble with that foreman, are you?”

Am I ever.
Aloud she said, “Not exactly. But let’s sit down a minute, all right?”

Frowning, Roger took the chair to the right of the desk, and Aubrey sat in the left-hand chair. “Listen, this is a long story,” she said. “So before either of you say anything, just let me finish.”

“Bree, you’re kind of scaring me,” Jason said.

She sighed. “Calm down. It’s not as bad as you think.” Drawing a deep breath, she plunged ahead. “The foreman’s name isn’t Martin,” she said. “It’s Mark. Mrs. Vanderbright hired Dawson Construction to build her house.”

Her father glared thunder. “She did
what?
”

“Dad, just listen.” Jason’s reaction worried her more. His expression was completely blank. “You said she’s new in town, right? So she wouldn’t have known about the…family feud. But they’d already been working on the place for weeks before I came in, and Mrs. V. says it’s a package deal. They have to work with me, and I have to work with them.”

“I won’t have you around them,” Roger said. “This is outrageous.”

“You’re the one who got me the job in the first place.” She glanced at Jason, whose features hadn’t changed. “I want to do this,” she said. “She’s paying me a lot, and I need to do a good job here. This is going to be my career.”