Once More From the Top (The Women of Willow Bay) (8 page)

BOOK: Once More From the Top (The Women of Willow Bay)
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NINE

 

 

Carrie wandered to the table, obviously dawdling over a sip of water before she spoke. “You’re gone after the benefit, right? This boat sails out of Willow Bay, and you go back on tour. Back to
your
life. Then what?”

Breathing heavily, Liam leaned against the rail, struggling to keep a lid on his feelings, which were caught somewhere between dazed and belligerent.

She started again. “Look, we’re two reasonable adults—”


There’s
an arguable point,” Liam interrupted, his heart still hammering.

Barely twelve hours, and she’s already driving me insane.

His groin ached, and her red dress and lovely round breasts distracted him from her words, yet he fought the urge to shake her silly. Turning away, he focused on the water lapping against the
Allegro
, trying to force the heat to subside while getting the anger under control.

“I don’t see why we can’t make this work,” she said, clearly ignoring his snarky comment. “Thousands of separated parents do it all the time.”

Her words were like ice water dumped over his head. Shoving away from the rail, he crossed the deck in two strides. “Are you suggesting we think of ourselves as… as
divorced
?” Grabbing the bottle of wine, he splashed some into his glass and swallowed it in one gulp.

“I think that would be best.” Her eyes darted away before meeting his glare head on. “That way you can have time with Jack while you’re here. When you leave, we can both go on with our own lives. Later, if you want to see Jack, we’ll work that out.”

“And we come to some amicable arrangement about visitation and child support?”

“Well... okay, yeah.” She squared her shoulders. “I can call my attorney in the morning. He can draw up whatever papers we need to sign about visitation, and as far as child support goes, no thanks. We don’t need your money.”

Liam watched her for a long moment, hardly believing what he was hearing. He walked away, pacing the length of the deck and back again. Conflicting emotions boiled up in him as he stared across the moonlit lake. He should hate her for keeping Jack from him. He should hate her for dumping him. He should hate himself for still wanting her so desperately.

But he didn’t have any hate inside him. Only anger and confusion and a longing to discover what the future might bring—with both Carrie and Jack.

As a mist rose over the bay, he counted to ten... and then to twenty. Finally, he took a deep breath, and without turning, spoke quietly and in measured phrases.

“Listen to me. No lawyers. No papers to sign. No talk about visitation rights. Because I don’t intend to give up my son before I even meet him.” He spun around, heading for her with purpose. “What’s more, I have no intention of giving
you
up, either. We’re going to find out what could have happened if you hadn’t run away.” He took her shoulders in his hands, struggling to be gentle.

“Rehashing the past isn’t going to accomplish anything.” The conviction in her words made him tug her around to face him. “We’ve both changed so much. We’re older, wiser—”

“Wiser?” Liam would have laughed had she not been so absurd. “You’re not one single moment wiser, Carrie. The naïve girl I met in Montreal has become a damn recluse—closed up in a box. Where’s all that glorious passion and curiosity I fell in love with?”

Trembling, she twisted away from him, anger flashing copper glints in her eyes. She stood there trembling
, silent.

“Once upon a time, you were brave—brave enough to audition for the Ecklund Competition. Brave enough to agree to come to Europe with me. But you lost it somewhere. How? Hell, you couldn’t even work up the courage to tell me I had a son. You made all the choices for both of us.” His laugh was harsh and guttural to his own ears, but he’d stopped caring how he sounded to her. “Well, baby, guess what? I’m back and it’s my turn. I’m opening up the box.”

“You self-righteous son of a bitch.” Carrie’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “How dare you make judgments about my life? About
my
choices? You have no idea who I am or what I’ve become.” Her rage must have calmed the trembling. Now she seemed just plain infuriated. “Frankly, I think this is all about your ego. You’re pissed because
I
left.
I
wasn’t there drooling all over you.
I
wasn’t hanging around backstage, waiting for you to grace me with ten minutes of your very expensive time before the next performance. Excuse me if I haven’t lived the glamorous, exciting life you have all these years, Maestro. I had a child to raise!”

“You made the choice to do that alone,” he retorted. Shock and hurt filled Liam as she
continued mercilessly, clearly unable to stop the flow of angry words.

“Jack and I were
never
going to fit into the image you and Marty spent so much energy creating. And I knew it. I wasn’t as stupid and naïve as you seem to think I was. I did what I
had
to do given the circumstances and—” She stopped suddenly, then drew a deep breath. “I’m willing to let you get to know Jack. But you and me? Not happening. We need to stay separate because I
still
won’t fit into your world.”

“Jesus!” He grabbed the wine bottle with unsteady fingers. Liquid sloshed in the bottom as he pulled his arm back and threw it furiously over the rail where it fell with an unsatisfactory plop into the bay.

Swallowing hard, he smacked his hand on the table. “Good God, woman. This morning, I only wanted to get to know
you
again, that was all.” He pointed an accusing finger. “Jack had no part in it. I didn’t even know he existed. This is
not
about my ego—at least not the way you think. I guess I needed know what happened to us. And because you
”
he lowered his voic
e
“you never left my mind—not once in all those years. And trust me, I tried
damn hard
to get rid of you.” He picked up her wineglass, drained it, and wiped his hand across his mouth. Shoving his fingers into his hair, he dropped heavily onto the bench by the rail.

 

* * * *

 

Too emotionally exhausted to speak or move, Carrie stared at him in disbelief. Had she truly been on his mind all this time?

Damn him for saying that!

Now how was she ever going to tell him about Marty and the money? If he’d known, he would’ve forgotten her in a heartbeat. Dear God, had they really had the same fantasies? Somehow being angry at him was easier than wanting him so desperately. She was afraid to say anything. Afraid everything—the whole truth—would come pouring out and then he’d truly hate her. Afraid she’d throw herself into his arms. Afraid she’d never have another clear thought again.

Liam sighed. “Okay, Carrie, maybe I
don’t
know you now. But you have to give me that same point. You
think
you know who I am because you’ve watched PBS or read
People
magazine or some saw some website or heard a backstage interview on NPR.” He exhaled a short angry laugh. “Everything moved so fast in Montreal, we never knew what hit us. Come on. Let’s give it a shot. Maybe we’ll work out, maybe we won’t, but we’ll never know if we don’t try.”

Despite her resistance, his heated gaze drew her in, and his words kept her from tripping over the lines to flee the boat.

He pressed on. “Don’t think for moment that I won’t be seeing Jack as often as I can, no matter what happens between us. But you and I can’t possibly stay
separate
. That boy binds us together as surely as if we’d figured everything out years ago.”

“How do we go back, Liam?” She whispered the question, her face hidden in the shadows.

“I’ll give you your five days.” He moved closer—so close she could feel the heat of his body and smell the crisp masculine scent of him, although he didn’t touch her. “I don’t want to, but we have to figure this out. I’ll wait until Sunday to see Jack on one condition. You agree to–to
dating
, for lack of a better term. And I’m
not
going to beg. You have to meet me halfway. Can you do that?”

His endearing little smile sent a frisson of desire zinging through her. The deep cadence of his voice caressed her as he continued. “We don’t go back. We go forward.”

Crossing her arms, she walked slowly to the other side of the boat, watching the lights at the bait shop flicker between the swaying branches of the ancient pines. Uncle Noah was up there, probably sorting through the box of new lures and laughing with Will and Tony. A few days ago, Jack would have been with them, his gray eyes—so like Liam’s—sparkling as he unpacked new fishing gear. Nothing would ever be that simple again.

But Liam was Jack’s father, and didn’t she owe it to her son to at least try?

A noble concept.

She glanced over her shoulder. Just thinking of his kisses turned her insides to mush and made heat build low in her body.

Who am I kidding?

Boundaries. I need to set some boundaries.

“Okay,” she agreed warily, still not facing him. “But we have to lay down some ground rules. I can’t think straight when you—when your hands are—”

Liam’s seductive chuckle stopped her stammering as he pulled her back against him. “Don’t ask me not to touch you. I can’t promise that.” His voice was soft and sensual. “I’d be a liar if I
did.” His lips caressed the sensitive skin behind her ear and then found her throat. She felt his warm breath against her skin when he whispered, “And you’d be
so
disappointed if I never touched you.”

Carrie gave up. Turning, she slid her arms around his waist, settling into his embrace. He was right. Incredibly, wonderfully right. She
longed
for him to touch her everywhere, to kiss her, to stroke and suckle her. She wanted his hands on her. His mouth on her. “Oh God, Liam,” she murmured. “What am I going to do with—”

His lips hushed whatever she was about to say. She returned the deep kiss, loving the urgency of his hands on her back. Finally he lifted his head, his mouth hovering over hers.
“Tell you what,” he said, his warm, wine-sweet breath mingling with hers. “I promise we won’t do anything you don’t want to do. How’s that?” Even in the dim light of the deck, his eyes gleamed.

“And
I
get to decide what it is
I
want, right?” she asked before she pulled his mouth to hers in a searing kiss.

Liam’s eyes were smoky when he broke contact. “Oh yeah, your choice all the way, sweetheart.”

Chuckling, he took her lips again.

 

 

 

TEN

 

 

“These were on the bench by your door.” Eliot handed Carrie a bouquet as he and Aunt Margie sauntered into her apartment the next morning. Depositing a basket of scones on the granite bar by the kitchen, he dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Have you forgiven me yet?” His tone was grave, but Carrie noted the gleam in his eye.

“You’ve opened up a very large can of worms, Eliot.” She frowned before turning to Margie for a hug. “Hey, Aunt Margie.” Then she tugged the florist’s paper from the bouquet to reveal pink roses bound up with a white ribbon.

“My goodness.” Margie fingered the delicate blooms. “How gorgeous.” She gave them a sniff. “Don’t they smell heavenly?”

Carrie pulled a card from the center of the bouquet. No message, simply a bold black scrawl,
Liam
. That signature sent pinwheels and rockets ripping through her veins. How did he know she loved she loved pink roses? As she buried her nose in the flowers, the scent propelled her thoughts back to the previous night.

Thank God, Tony and Will had come strolling down the dock, or she’d have had Liam flat on his back on the deck of the
Allegro—
or he’d have had her there.

Who knew?

When she raised her head, Margie and Eliot were smiling at one another. Sighing, she took the flowers into the kitchen to find a vase.

“I saw Perry at the farm stand this morning, so I’ve heard some of the story.” Margie sat down at the table, eyeing the piles of albums and pictures covering the surface. “And Eliot was kind enough to tell me what he knows. I think he may have brought me along for protection.” She winked at Eliot who was at the kitchen counter gathering napkins, butter, and plates.

Carrie rolled her eyes as she set the flowers on the chest in front of the sofa. Perry owned the local coffee shop, which also happened to be the best place in town to catch up on the latest news. “Jeez, Perry’s in gossip heaven, isn’t he? Well, there’s nothing like being the topic of the day.” At the table, she closed her laptop and set it aside, stacking up pictures and albums to make room for the impromptu breakfast. “The jury is still out on whether or not I’ve forgiven you, Eliot. But I love you too much to stop speaking to you. Besides your scones are to die for, and I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee.”

He smiled and patted her shoulder. “I consider it a fortuitous merging of necessary events. I needed him and frankly, it was time you dealt with all the baggage. A win for both of us.”

Carrie rolled her eyes. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

With a flourish, Eliot buttered a scone and set the plate in front of Margie. “Here you go, Margie, enjoy.” Buttering another one, he offered it to Carrie. “Tell us everything.”

They nibbled on scones and sipped coffee as she shared the events of the last twenty-four hours. She couldn’t stop smiling, although she kept the details of the intimate encounter on the boat to a minimum.

“So where do you go from here?” Margie leaned back in her chair. “What happens next?”

“I don’t know. He wants to
date
.” Carrie scrunched up her face. “It all feels backward.
Dating?
After all this time?” She gestured at the albums and photos on the table. “Anyway… he agreed to wait until Sunday to actually meet Jack, so I’m putting together a quick photo album for him.” Handing a black leather album to Margie, she chuckled at the first page. “Look at this one. Jack’s like two minutes old. Oh, and here’s one with Eliot and Uncle Noah right after he was born.”

Margie turned the pages slowly, examining the chronicle of Jack’s young life as Carrie followed along. After the first few pages, almost every one included shots of Jack at a piano. Jack playing in a recital at Lawson Music Camp. Jack at Eliot’s beautiful Steinway with Eliot standing over him. Jack at the piano in their apartment, intent on a sheet of music.

The last page was an eight-by-ten, black-and-white photo taken last winter. Carrie had been experimenting with duotone film, and the light in the apartment had caught her eye. In that instant, Jack sat at his Grandmother Beth’s old baby grand, his head thrown back, his eyes closed, long lashes touching his cheeks, and his fingers stretched over the keys.

Margie gasped. “That’s beautiful. He looks like Beth Anne, doesn’t he? So dramatic. Liam will love this one.”

“That looks like a publicity shot.” Eliot peered over Margie’s shoulder.

Carrie gave him a scowl. “Not deliberately.” She yanked the photo out of its plastic sleeve
and tossed it down on the table. “Don’t say that, Eliot. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t even tell Liam that Jack plays.”

“Why on earth would you not tell his father that the child plays piano like an angel? ’Specially considering who his father is?” Margie rose to take dishes to the sink.

Carrie handed her a mug and plate. “That’s
exactly
the reason. Who knows what he’ll do with the information? What if he wants to take him out on tour or something?”

“And what if he does?” Eliot piped in. “Why would that have to be a bad thing?”

Carrie shook her finger at him crossly. “He’s not taking Jack anywhere. I don’t want that kind of life for my son. I won’t allow it.” Reaching for another photo of Jack—one of him with several friends playing basketball in the yard behind the marina—she replaced the one she’d pulled earlier. Expelling a breath, she started shoving pictures in envelopes, moving quickly to clean up the table.

“You’re not the only one in this anymore,” Eliot’s tone was sober. “The sooner you recognize that, the better off you’ll be.”

“What’s
that
supposed to mean?” Carrie stacked the albums back in the bookcase beneath the stairs, glancing up as Eliot and Margie exchanged a meaningful look.

“He means that you can’t allow Liam into Jack’s life and yet refuse to let him participate in decisions about him.” Margie arranged framed photos on the baby grand in the corner.

“You know what? I can’t think about that right now.” Carrie strode across the room and grabbed more photo albums. “My life’s completely upside down. I don’t know where things are going with Liam. One minute he’s furious, the next he’s all, well… never mind.” Heat suffused her cheeks. “And I still have to tell Jack and pray the kid doesn’t hate me.” Tears started to form, but she blinked them back, refusing to let her tumbling emotions take control.

“You knew you’d have to tell Jack about Liam sometime,” Eliot said. “It’s not like you’re handing him some worthless bum for a father. My God, why would he hate you?”

“I don’t know, maybe–maybe because I kept him from Liam for such a long time.”

“Now you’re borrowing trouble.” Gathering up his basket, Eliot headed for the door. “Have a little faith in your son and in his father. Things are going to be
different,
but that doesn’t automatically mean they’re going to be
bad
.” He elbowed open the screen door. “Margie, walk up with me? I want to steal a couple of your tomatoes if you have some to spare.”

“Sure, I have plenty.” Margie gave Carrie a quick squeeze. “He’s right, you know, sweetie.
Change often turns out to be a very good thing.”

“I guess.” Carrie walked them out to the deck, unable to keep her eyes from the massive boat in berth thirty-eight. “Or I could get my heart broken again, couldn’t I?”

“Maybe,” Eliot nodded. “But better a
broken
heart than a
frozen
one.”

“A little fortune cookie wisdom, old friend?” Carrie offered him a wry grin. Resting her elbows on the deck rail, she tracked Margie and Eliot’s progress to the docks below. The sound of their laughter drifted back up the stairs.

It was early—not even nine yet.

Where did he find those beautiful flowers?

Their delicate scent filled the room, intoxicating her senses as she came back into the apartment. Suddenly, calm, peaceful, orderly Carrie was a morass of feelings. Tears threatened and yet she couldn’t stop smiling. Her heart ached one moment, then sang in the next. A twinge of—
okay, Carrie, let’s call it what it is
,
lust—
weighed heavy.

That particular sensation had been buried so deep for so long she barely recognized it. Oh, she’d handled the feeling readily enough when it surfaced through the years, but the memories of Liam were nothing compared to this new reality. Now her lust simmered, clouding her thoughts with its intensity. She’d barely gotten off that boat last night without dragging him down on the deck and making love to him until they both ached.

Can we build a relationship—a family—on the basis of heat?

That
was the big question.

Carrie’s immediate reaction was
no way
. Heat had no staying power. Heat cooled quickly when the dishwasher broke down, the toilet backed up, or the car doors froze in winter. Heat faded when a teenager grew sullen and sulky because he couldn’t stay out past eleven on a Friday night. Heat disappeared when a husband and father traveled far and wide, away from home for weeks at a time.

But the heat is still there, even after sixteen years
.

And oh, God, she was so ready for some heat. So ready for Liam’s arms, his hands, his mouth. So ready for the fulfillment of years of fantasizing and waiting, even though she’d never realized she
had
been waiting. She hadn’t dared believe she would ever see him again, let alone touch him, kiss him. Shivering, she pressed her hands against her belly, almost as if to hold that feeling in.

Her cell phone sang “Maggie May” on the bar. A check of the caller ID revealed a number she didn’t know, an area code she didn’t recognize. But there was no name. “Hello?”

“Are you hungry? Would you like to have breakfast with me?” asked a deep, sexy voice.

Her stomach did a crazy flip. “How did you get my cell number?” Moving to the window, she glanced down at the boat, where Liam sat in a canvas deck chair, his feet resting on the stainless steel rail. He waved up at her.

She backed away from the window, embarrassed that he saw her looking for him.

“It’s on your business card. I picked one up yesterday when Will and I were in your studio.”

“Oh–oh–um, well…,” she stammered, tongue-tied and foolish.

He chuckled, almost as if he knew the effect he had on her.

Closing her eyes for a second, she took a deep breath. “Actually, Liam, I have coffee and blueberry scones. Why don’t you give me thirty minutes and come on up?”

“Do you have eggs?”

“Yep,” she said. “Thirty minutes. Okay?”

So it begins.

Change begins today
,
and I can open my mind and heart, or I can kick and scream.

Either way, life
is
going to change.

BOOK: Once More From the Top (The Women of Willow Bay)
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