That Night on Thistle Lane (35 page)

“We were teenagers, Brandon. I wasn’t going to hold you to what you said when you were seventeen.”

“Or twenty-five? Thirty? And there you were, still filled with such dreams yourself. I felt like mine had only caused trouble for you and the boys, dug us a deeper hole. I put myself and my pride before you.”

“You put words in my mouth, especially about money.”

“They were what I was telling myself.”

“I didn’t know what to do. You’ve always been there for me, Brandon. Then you weren’t. Or you were, but you didn’t believe that you were. I never saw you as a screwup. You always had such hope and optimism. I didn’t realize how much that meant to me until they weren’t there.”

“We went through a hard year.”

“Maybe, but I’m stronger because of it. I’d never lived on my own. I’m not saying I needed to, but it worked out.”

“I know it did. I can see it in you. The confidence.” He shifted, his eyes lost in the shadows. “I never wanted you to trim your dreams to make me look good. I’m not that kind of guy. In fact, I think that kind of guy’s a jerk.”

She smiled, even as she wanted to cry. “I don’t want you to give up on your dreams. I couldn’t stand it.”

“I haven’t. This adventure travel gig’s right up my alley.” He leaned back on his outstretched arms. “We’ll see what happens. I know now that the only dream that matters is being with you and the boys.”

“I know,” Maggie said, up on her knees now, at eye level with him as she touched his dark hair. “Deep down, I’ve always known.”

He flicked a mosquito off her shoulder. “The bugs have found us.”

“What do you say we could go into your tent now?”

“I thought you hated camping.”

“It’s not the camping part I’m thinking about.”

“We worry about Phoebe,” he said, “but it’s Noah we should worry about. The guy has no idea what he’s in for getting involved with an O’Dunn.”

Twenty-Three

Phoebe was alone in a room dedicated to Noah’s collection of antique swords. The lighting and climate controls were set to protect the contents of the room. It was at the back of the house, on the second floor above the pool. She’d already dipped her feet into its warm, silky water. Noah had watched her from the patio. She’d smiled at him, mumbled something about the Southern California sun and her freckles. He’d smiled back and said nothing.

He was letting her get acquainted with his world, she thought as she leaned in close and studied the ornate handle—or whatever it was called—of another sword, an eighteenth-century French rapier.

“Note the shape of the blade,” he said, coming into the small room. “It’s specifically designed for thrusting.”

She stood straight. “Thrusting as in…”

“Just what it sounds like.” He pointed at another sword next to it. “This blade has a double edge. It’s a bit longer. It can be used for thrusting but it can also slash.”

“It’s a fascinating subject.”

“There are a lot of technical terms but it’s not as complicated as it might seem,” He nodded to the sharp tip of the first rapier. “One touch in the right place is all it takes to kill one’s opponent.”

“Are you a thruster or a slasher, or is that too simplistic?” She smiled. “I’m sure I have a lot to learn.”

His eyes held hers. “I’d like to teach you.”

Phoebe tried to ignore a flutter in the pit of her stomach as she moved to another display. “You have quite a collection here. One antique sword led to another antique sword?”

“It was something to do on quiet nights after work,” he said. “What do you do?”

“Lately I’ve been fixing up my house.”

“You have your family and friends, too.”

“Don’t you?”

“I have a small family and a few good friends. I know and like a lot of people, mostly from work, fencing, karate.”

“Hollywood,” Phoebe added.

He shrugged. “Some.” He walked over to her. “This one is nineteenth-century Persian. Eventually I’ll donate most of this collection to charity, to help young martial art athletes.”

“You’ll still fence and do karate.”

It wasn’t really a question but he nodded.

“And NAK?”

“We’ll see.”

Phoebe pretended to study the ornate sword but was intensely aware of his presence. They were alone, unlikely to be interrupted. They’d flown overnight. Now…she had to consider where she’d sleep.

She cleared her throat. “Olivia and I were talking on the way to the airport. I mentioned that I’ve been reading about intensive seminars in entrepreneurship. New entrepreneurs spend a long weekend or even two or three months immersed in how to set up their own company. She said you and Dylan would be naturals. You could use the adventure travel barn for classes. People could stay at Carriage Hill. It’s a thought, anyway.”

Noah was so close now she could almost feel his breath. “It’s a good thought,” he said. “It would give me another reason to be in Knights Bridge.”

She shifted her attention back to the sword but couldn’t focus on the details. She saw Noah in Knights Bridge. Saw him in winter, skating with her on the little homemade outdoor rink on the common. Saw him careening down a snow-covered hill in a toboggan with her and her nephews.

It all felt so right when just a short time ago she couldn’t have pictured him in her small town at all.

Or herself in San Diego, with him, and yet here she was.

“Phoebe.” He stood next to her and took her hands, kissed her lightly on the lips. “Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the upstairs.”

He explained that the house was new. He’d only moved in six months ago. It wasn’t massive, certainly not as massive as he could afford. He’d hired a decorator because he hadn’t had the time or the inclination to figure out what to do with each room, never mind what furnishings to use. He’d been satisfied with the results, but Phoebe realized that he didn’t care that much about the specifics—things like whether a refrigerator was stainless-steel or avocado-green. He’d wanted comfort, soothing colors, space where he could move, relax, think and entertain.

“Not that I entertain that much,” he said as they came to the master bedroom. “You’re the first person I’ve had in here except for the decorators. I gave Olivia the grand tour when she was here with Dylan but we skipped this room.”

“It’s beautiful,” Phoebe said, trying to ignore the catch in her throat. The room was all grayed neutrals and sleek lines. She walked to the windows that looked out at the bay. “The view is breathtaking.”

“That’s San Diego for you.”

He sat on the king-size bed. It was simply made up, the sheets pulled back, white-cased pillows piled at the headboard. Phoebe felt a tingle of awareness as she looked at him. He leaned back on one arm, his eyes a deeper blue than the sky and ocean outside the windows. A nighttime blue. A blue as intense and enigmatic as he was.

There were several guestrooms. She had only to pick one. He’d told her so in that steady manner he had. But as he watched her from his bed, she knew what his preference was.

She walked over to him and sat next to him, not quite touching. “Noah, there’s something you need to know about me.”

“I want to know everything about you.”

She turned to him, placing one knee on the bed. “Everyone thinks I’ve given up on love and romance. I thought I had, too.” She realized she felt comfortable talking to him, and the tension went out of her. She smiled. “Then I found Daphne Stewart’s sewing room in the library attic, and I started to see that I hadn’t given up. I argued with myself.”

“You didn’t want to expose yourself to being hurt again,” he said. “Or expose your family to your pain.”

“And I didn’t want things to change. I liked my life.” She put her hand on his upper arm. “I’ve been torn ever since I saw those dresses, felt the presence—the dreams and hopes—of the woman who created them. They connected with me on the deepest level. I didn’t see that at first.”

“Sneaking into the ball in your Edwardian gown was part of the war with yourself,” he said, brushing a curl off her face. “I think I saw that. It’s part of why I noticed you.” He smiled, letting his hand drift along the line of her jaw. “Also because you were so damn beautiful.”

She laughed. “It was the black wig.”

His eyes sparked with amusement, and something else. Awareness, she thought. Desire. He leaned closer to her. “It wasn’t the black wig,” he said softly. “Trust me.”

“I do trust you. The moment you swept me onto that ballroom dance floor, I knew I could trust you.”

“Sure that’s not just jet lag talking?”

She smiled. “Very sure.”

“I love you, Phoebe. I don’t know if I’ve ever known what love could be until I spotted you in your princess dress. It got even better when I ran into you hunting slugs, making pesto, warding off a chilly morning in an old sweater at the library.”

“I’m not what you’re used to—”

“I love you, Phoebe. Not some idea of you.”

His hand eased over her shoulder. She had on a sleeveless top, could feel the warmth of his skin on hers.

“Daphne has invited us to lunch at her home in Hollywood Hills,” Noah said. “Julius Hartley and Loretta will join us. That’s on Thursday. Then I thought we could drive up the coast to my winery. When do you have to be back at work?”

“Whenever I want.” She placed her hand on his, on her shoulder. “If I want to go back. My future’s wide open, too.”

They were lost then. She could see it in his eyes, feel it as he withdrew his hand from hers and skimmed it down her bare arm. He was so close to her. So impossibly sexy. She reeled with a desire that was scarily intense and unrelenting. It made her feel vulnerable and open, as if she couldn’t hide anything from Noah even if she wanted to—even if she tried.

He was deliberate, as smooth and centered as he had been when he’d taken her into his arms in Boston, when he’d helped her pick basil and mint and she’d watched him chase after Buster.

When he’d pushed his way through the debris from the storm and found her and her nephews in the library attic.

He was careful of her cuts, asked her if she was okay. She knew what he meant. Her heart skipped as she looked at him in the milky light. Their clothes were already scattered. She took in the ripples of lean muscle on his chest and arms. Damn, she thought. She could have stitches and she still wouldn’t want to stop now.

She nodded. “Don’t worry.” She draped her arms over his shoulders, heard the raggedness in her voice. How was she supposed to talk when she could hardly breathe? When her body was tingling, quaking for him to touch her. She managed a smile. “No holding back.”

He responded immediately, lowering her onto the bed, easing on top of her. Every touch, every caress, every kiss made her ache with wanting him. He left no inch of her, no part of her, untouched. As tender as he was, he was hard all over. She touched him everywhere, explored his body, touching, tasting. He was so controlled, so focused…until he wasn’t.

When he sank into her, she cried out, felt him try to ease up, to slow down, but it didn’t work—and she didn’t want it to. She grabbed hold of his hips and gave herself up to him and the sensations taking over her.

“Phoebe,” he breathed. “Phoebe…”

She heard the concern in his voice even as he didn’t slacken his pace, didn’t stop. “I’m okay.” She clutched him. “I love you, Noah.”

She barely got the words out before they both lost control. She’d never experienced anything like it before. Time seemed suspended. It was as if they were the only two people in the universe. She cried out with abandon, wrapped her legs around him as he drove into her one last time.

They collapsed together. She could feel his heart racing, his skin warm under her palms. She’d dreamed of mind-blowing sex with a man she loved but had convinced herself it would never happen.

And yet here she was, with Noah.

He turned onto his side and locked his eyes with hers. After a moment, he touched the curve of one finger to her cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me that you’d never—”

“Because it doesn’t matter.” She caught her breath. “Didn’t matter.”

He kissed her softly. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

She took his hand into hers and smiled. “I hope not.”

*

Noah enjoyed showing Phoebe the NAK offices. She wanted to see everything and talk to everyone, and she was interested in every detail of NAK’s work. He’d already met with his executive team and set up a formal meeting to redefine his role with the company.

Things were changing, because—well, things always changed.

And because of Phoebe. He loved talking to her. He loved listening to her, and making love to her. After two days together, he was as certain as ever that they belonged together. She was kind, intelligent, courageous and so damn beautiful.

She was also still at least a little afraid of what the changes loving him meant for her.

“I thought I could predict my future,” she said as she looked out at the view from his office windows. “But then you decided to dog sit Buster.”

“I knew Olivia had an idea of who my princess was.”

“If you hadn’t stayed in Knights Bridge, my swashbuckler would have remained a mirage.” She smiled at him. “But you’re no mirage.”

He expected he’d proved that over the past two days. He winked at her. “You’ve got that right, princess.” He stood next to her, slipping an arm around her waist. “My best friend is marrying one of your best friends. We’d have found each other.”

Phoebe leaned against his arm. “I can’t wait for Olivia and Dylan’s wedding. I love a happy ending.”

Noah kissed her on the top of her head. They’d showered together that morning, and he could still smell the shampoo she’d used on her hair. “Phoebe…” For the first time since she’d arrived in San Diego, he found himself struggling for the right words. He’d had an engagement ring delivered to his house at the winery. The timing didn’t feel too soon. It felt just right. Perfect, even. Finally smiled at her. “We’ll write our own happy ending.”

Her smile reached her eyes. “We already are.”

They headed down to the lobby together. They didn’t want to keep Daphne Stewart waiting. They’d take their time driving up the coast to his winery and enjoying their stay there.