Sullivan (16 page)

"Don't tell me it doesn't matter," he said. "All my life I've watched families walk down the street, the kids looking and walking and talking like their parents, sometimes looking like little miniatures of their mother or father. And I always ask myself—Who will I be like? My father, the violent, drunken thief, or my mother, the crazy woman who killed herself when she couldn't stand to look at me anymore." He offered his arm to her, wrist up, pushing up the white cotton sleeve to bare his flesh for her. "See this blood?" he asked. "That's the blood that runs in these veins. I thought you should know."

Eden didn't even try to stop the silent tears as she rose from her seat and sat on Sin's knee, surprising him. She placed her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder, took a deep breath, and burrowed her nose against his warm neck. "I'm so sorry." She'd already said that once, and she hated to repeat herself, but what else could she say? She
was
sorry, she hated that the man she'd fallen in love with carried such a deep pain in his heart.

He remained stiff and unyielding. "I've told you where I come from, who I am. You should run like hell," he whispered, "not crawl into my lap."

She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. There was such unexpected comfort in being this close. She could only hope that somehow she gave him the same comfort, when he needed it most. "Sinclair Sullivan, how could I possibly run from you when I love you so much that whatever hurts you hurts me more?"

He didn't move or respond at all, so she lifted her head to look into his eyes, so she could see his hard and beautiful face. "I love you, Sin."

"Don't say that," he whispered. "You're supposed to walk away when you hear the truth. Hell, woman, you're supposed to run away."

She smiled and leaned forward to give him a gentle kiss, a brief peck on the lips. "In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't always do what I'm supposed to."

"No kidding," he muttered.

She made herself comfortable in his lap and placed her head on his shoulder again, and this time he wrapped his arms around her. At that moment, she knew she belonged right here. In Rock Creek, in this hotel, with Sin.

"I know with all my heart that you're a good man, Sinclair Sullivan. In spite of your parents and your past circumstances, you've become strong and decent and kind, and you should put those needless worries from your mind." She lifted his hand to her lips and laid her mouth against his wrist, there where the blood flowed. Then she pulled away slightly and traced the veins she'd kissed with her fingertip. "This is your blood and no one else's," she whispered. "And I love you," she added.

"Don't."

She lowered his hand but continued to hold it, as she settled herself more comfortably in his lap. "Too late." She sighed. "I'm much too far gone to change my feelings now. Why, I believe I fell in love with you the first time I looked into your... eye."

For a few moments all was silent, the room, the town, the world. If she tried, Eden could hear her heartbeat and Sin's, beating in a kind of soothing rhythm.

"Do you know how much I want you right now?" Sin finally asked, breaking the silence.

She adjusted herself just a little in his lap and smiled widely. "Why, yes, sir, I believe I do."

Chapter 10

"When the hotel is in good shape, I want to work in the gardens out back," Eden said as she polished the front desk. "Just think how lovely it will be to sit outside in the spring, with flowers blooming and birds singing, and benches that don't wobble back and forth when you sit on them." She smiled widely at Sin, who sat casually on the green sofa, his fine, denim-clad legs extended to their full length as he watched her intently. "We can sit out there at night, after a long day, and"—
and you can kiss me again
—"and relax."

"I may not even be here in the spring," Sin responded. "You know that."

She wasn't ready to accept the notion that Sin would leave her, no matter how often he mentioned doing just that. "I know no such thing," she said primly, and then she continued on. "The flower garden will be lovely, but just think of how useful the vegetable garden off the kitchen will be. I can't believe Grady let it all die away."

Her mind was not entirely on gardening. How could it be? If only Sin would let go of the pain of the past, of his fears of becoming like his father or his mother. The morning's revelation told her so much about Sin and why he was the way he was. No wonder he mistakenly thought he wanted to be alone.

She left her polishing rag on the front desk and joined Sin on the sofa, sitting beside him and laying her hand possessively on his forearm. "I truly hope you will be here in the spring," she said sincerely. "I cannot imagine what my days here would be like without you."

Sin hesitated just a moment before putting his arm around her. It was all the invitation she needed to snuggle against his side, settling herself there comfortably. "Besides, Rock Creek is your home. You belong here. I would feel terrible if you left on my account. You don't want to make me feel guilty, do you?"

"I have no home and I don't belong anywhere," he said crisply. "There's no need for you to feel guilty."

She turned her head, raised herself a little, and kissed Sin soundly on the lips, answering an irresistible urge; how could she be this close to Sin and
not
kiss him? Impossible.

He held her tight and kissed her back, his arms around her, his thumb lightly brushing against the side of her breast.

She leaned back slightly, tipping her head to deepen the kiss, and Sin came along with her. Bodies aligned, lips locked. They seemed to magically dissolve together, melting and then melding into each other, growing closer and closer with every passing heartbeat. She wondered if he felt the same strange compulsion to continue the kiss, as if to end it was unthinkable.

"I love you," she whispered when he took his mouth from hers to kiss her throat. She threaded her fingers through his hair and pushed the long strands back so she could see his face as he lifted his head slowly. She didn't mean to cause pain with her confession, but it looked as if that was what flickered in Sin's eyes, the pain he'd been too strong and stubborn to reveal that morning when he'd told her about his mother and father.

"No, you don't," he protested. "You can't."

"Don't tell me I can't love you," she insisted. "I know my own heart."

"Honey, trust me." He ran his hand along her side and cradled her hip. She shivered in response. "This is not your heart talking. It's not
love
that makes you quiver and shake and moan."

She smiled widely, even though he did not.

A new and unwanted voice intruded. "Excuse me."

They both turned their heads to see a relatively sober Nate standing over the couch. He stood taller than usual, even though his fine suit was rumpled. After a moment, he swayed just slightly.

"Jed's here." He gave them a wink. "I thought you might like to know."

Sin and Eden both jumped, moving up and apart, and Eden tried to straighten her hair. "Jedidiah's here? Already? Really?"

Nate grinned and turned to walk away. "No, not really. I just thought it was my duty to remind you two that you're headed for serious trouble, smooching in the lobby like that. Hell, Sullivan, this is a hotel. And you already have a room. Use it, if you must."

"Well," Eden said indignantly, her heartbeat slowly returning to normal. "That was rather rude."

"Maybe, but he's right," Sin said. "Damn it, Eden, why can't I keep my hands off of you?"

She stood, smiled, and offered him her hand. "There's no need to curse."

Sin took her hand and stood. "There's every reason in the world to curse, damn it."

She leaned into him. "Nate was, perhaps, right about one thing. The lobby is not the place to kiss. Why, anyone might walk in at any time."

"Yep." He took her in his arms and pulled her close. "So, how about we... clean the tub for a few minutes?" He glanced toward the wall near the foot of the stairs and the small room beyond that wall. Her heart leaped.

"Excellent idea."

* * *

Twenty-nine years old, and no one had ever told him they loved him before today. Sullivan didn't believe the words Eden said so easily, couldn't make himself believe that she felt that deeply. She simply didn't know how to express her newly discovered desire in any other way; she didn't know another way to explain away the heat they generated.

Any other possibility was too frightening to consider.

He'd stayed with her all day, moving furniture and opening windows that had been shut too long, and constantly keeping an eye out for any threat. Kissing her, holding and touching her in the tub behind closed doors. Reminding himself, when he wanted to reach for more, that this was all he could have.

The day had been a quiet one, and there had been no more mysterious notes. He had to consider the possibility that Cash had been right, that Eden had written the note herself to keep him from leaving town. He didn't think she had a devious bone in her gorgeous body, but he also knew she would do anything,
anything
, to keep the people she considered
hers
safe. The woman would do anything if she thought it would benefit one of her damned strays.

Eden was in the kitchen starting a pot of chicken stew for supper, and Sullivan stood alone in the center of the newly cleaned lobby. The front door was open to let in fresh air, and bright afternoon sunlight fell across a newly burnished floor. Eden had scrubbed and beaten and swept and polished until the room gleamed. The woman transformed everything she touched.

Teddy and Millie appeared in the doorway, holding hands as they often did these days. Eden had transformed the children as surely as she had this room, making their lives bright, giving them hope, offering them a future they hadn't dreamed of before meeting her. It would be easy to dismiss Eden Rourke as an interfering sanctimonious do-gooder but for one small detail: everything she did came from the heart.

Teddy's long hair fell across his face, and when he lifted it Sullivan's moment of peaceful reflection ended. Tear tracks were clear on the boy's face.

"What happened?" he asked gruffly.

Teddy shrugged his shoulders, dismissing the question, but Millie was quick to answer. "Frank and Jack Sutton made fun of Teddy's hair after school. They said he looked like a girl, and one mean boy, Billy Newton, said he was a freak because he can't talk." She lifted her chin haughtily. "I threw a rock at Billy, but I missed."

He'd never had the desire to go after a child before, but Billy Newton, the bully, deserved a good scare of his own. And those Sutton kids had never been anything but trouble. Words hurt as much as fists, as the tear tracks on Teddy's face proved.

Sullivan kept his voice calm. "I'm sure Eden will tell you it's not nice to throw rocks, but... I'm just sorry you missed."

Millie smiled widely, but Teddy remained visibly distressed. Hadn't the kid had enough problems in his short life without having to deal with the fact that he was different?

"Millie, Eden's in the kitchen. You go tell her you're home and that Teddy and I have an errand to run this afternoon."

"Okay," she said, skipping off to the dining room, winding past the tables toward the kitchen.

Sullivan joined Teddy in the doorway. "Come on," he said, placing a hand on the boy's thin shoulder and leading him onto the boardwalk.

He'd pretended to be this boy's father, when it had been necessary, but there was no real bond between them. No relation, no obligation. Still, he and Teddy had a lot in common, and he felt he owed the kid... something. A few words of advice, maybe. Words of wisdom from Sinclair Sullivan? What a joke.

"One thing you have to learn early on is that there are people out there who are just mean," he said, a hand on Teddy's shoulder and his eyes on the boardwalk ahead. Hell, he had to try. He had to do something. "Some are just born that way. They come into the world mean and stay that way until the day they die. There's not much we can do but put up with them, most of the time."

Teddy nodded, but kept his dejected head down.

"It would be easier if everyone were like Eden, don't you think?" Sullivan said.

Teddy looked up as he nodded in eager agreement.

"She's been good to you."

Teddy nodded again.

"She's a good woman," Sullivan said, meaning it.

He came to a halt and looked down at the kid. Teddy was small for his age, if Eden was right about him being nine. The kid had an almost delicate look, with his thin shoulders and arms and legs, and those big brown eyes in a narrow face. He looked like he would break, so easily. Black hair fell past his shoulders, as Sullivan's did, and he peeked warily past a strand that fell across his face.

"It's up to you," Sullivan said, nodding to the business behind them. "What do you say?"

Teddy looked through a dirty window, and then he nodded his head slowly. He reached up to nervously take Sullivan's hand as they entered the barber shop.