The Fifth Season (13 page)

“I’m not the enemy.”

He touched his lips lightly to hers then backed away, leaving her wanting more. “Yes, Ms. O’Malley, you certainly are.” He winked removing the sting from his words, but it still hurt. She didn’t want to be the enemy. Smiling slightly, Emma turned and walked to her rooms.

Away from the heat of the fire and burning desire ignited by Stone, the cool air caused her to shiver. It reminded her of the lake, and she hurried to bury her frozen body beneath the warmth of her down comforter. She changed into sweats, armoring herself against Stone then slipped into bed.

Emma drifted to sleep, barely conscious when his weight shifted the mattress. He gathered her into his arms. She accepted his warmth, his protection and smiled dreamily when he whispered good night.

***

“I get the shower first, Stone.” Emma called racing ahead of him through the main part of River Run. Rounding the kitchen counter, her socks slid on the hardwood floor sending her flying backward.

“Easy girl,” he said, catching her before she hit her head on the ground. They collapsed on the floor laughing. It took her a moment to realize he hadn’t pulled away and continued cradling her against his chest, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist. They hadn’t been this close since the night of the river accident. He’d left her before morning and remained distant ever since.

“It’s nice to hear that.”

“What?” He inhaled, pulling her tighter. Her skin burned to be touched, she fought the desire to turn around and wrap her arms around his neck. Grabbing the counter for support, Stone hauled them both to their feet.

“Your laughter,” she said.

“Don’t get used to it. I just needed something to break the tension of having to tip-toe around Seamus Adams. I’m glad they’re gone.”

“Me too.” Emma reluctantly stepped from his arms and took off again for the bathroom. She laughed when he grabbed her shirt and yanked her back, against his chest. Battling for a foot hold on the slick floor, she tried to inch forward.

“You showered first yesterday, wench.”

“Don’t stoop to name-calling, jerk. It’s my bathroom, and I should get the shower first every night. Besides you’ll have yours back as soon as housekeeping is finished.”

“I’m not waiting for another two hours. I want a shower now, and I want it hot.” He wouldn’t release her so they penguin waddled into her private rooms. Emma reached for the bathroom doorknob but his hand closed over hers. Twisting around, it suddenly dawned on her how very close they were.

He didn’t step back but instead pushed closer. Every inch of him pressed against her. “I’m dirty,” she said.

“Really?”

Emma eyed him thoughtfully. He’d been different after the accident, more approachable. His hostility toward Seamus Adams escalated each day the vacationers remained. This morning, the Irish politician ran to the limo, tail tucked securely between his legs.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Stone, and let me have my shower in peace.”

“You know,” he spoke softly, lowering his head so their lips were nearly touching. “We have the house all to ourselves.”

“No we don’t,” she replied. Her lungs burned with the need for air.

“Well, except for housecleaning, we do.” He ran his tongue along the edge of her lips. She couldn’t help the little whimper that escaped, causing him to grin wickedly.

“House cleaning is very nosy.” Emma leaned into Stone, seeking him with her mouth. He inhaled and dove into her with the want of a hungry man, consuming, overpowering. Her knees buckled, and she clutched his neck climbing closer.

Head spinning, body humming, Emma remembered what’d happened last time they were this close. She pushed away and looked into his glazed expression. Passion, lust, and something else she didn’t recognize shone back.

“We can’t do this,” she said.

“Why not?”

The phone rang, breaking the awkward silence with its shrill echo. She broke free and answered. A deep female voice asked for Stone Connor, and her stomach dropped. This was why she needed to protect herself. Handing him the phone, she shrugged.

“Because there’s always something new…or someone.”

Stone listened to the voice on the other end of the receiver, then glanced up at her. The pain and hurt that crossed his eyes before he turned away crushed her heart. She wished she knew everything about him, could trust all of him.

Chapter Nine

Stone lifted the last pumpkin from the Jeep. He glanced up, noting the thick white clouds shrouding the sun and cooling the temperatures. The upper tips of the Tetons were hidden. A storm brewed, and he’d no doubt snow would fall before night settled. Surveying the collection of odd sized orange shapes, he wondered if Emma would help carve. Halloween loomed less than a week away, and the current guests of River Run had a parcel of little tots.

With a deep sigh, he sat on the porch steps and reviewed everything they’d gone through the past two weeks. He didn’t understand her adversity toward his therapist. If Emma hadn’t crawled beneath his skin, he wouldn’t have needed to call the damn woman in the first place.

He’d hated that.

That first call he’d placed after so many months of rejecting therapy. The night he sat in the tiny office, Emma sleeping less than ten strides away, her scent twirling all around making him crazed, he’d picked up the phone and dialed a number he’d sworn never to use again.

Psychobabble wouldn’t help him, he knew. But it was the fear that his emotions might possibly damage Emma that forced his hand. He’d never considered her reaction, that she’d hate his weakness.

“Mr. Connor?” Stone turned and smiled at Sally Haven. Her heart shaped face, too serious eyes, and outward demeanor of an old lady, snuck beneath the dangerous trip wire around his heart. This five year-old needed to be a child. But, her parents didn’t quite see that.

“What’s up Sally?”

“Um, I was wondering if I might be of some assistance in, um, carving the pumpkins.”

“Sure thing, kiddo. Which one do you want?”

“I can choose my own?”

“Of course. Just don’t make the face too hard for me to carve.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “I wouldn’t know how to make a face.”

Stone narrowed his eyes and absorbed the way she shuffled from foot to foot, her hands twisting in time to her words.

“Have you ever helped carve a pumpkin?”

“Well, no. But I’d like to try.”

“What about trick-or-treating?”

Little Sally hung her head and shook it slowly. “My parents don’t believe in candy.”

“Well then, little girl,” Stone stood and swung her up onto his shoulders, smiling at her shrieks of mock terror. “You’re on vacation which means you’re about to have the best darned Halloween ever.”

He performed a mad gallop around the driveway, through the barn and back to the porch. Settling her back on her feet, Stone nodded to the house. “Go put on some old clothes and let your Mom know you’ll be out here with me. We’ll carve these babies then light them up on Halloween.”

“Okay, Mr. Connor. I’ll be back.” Sally dashed into the resort, calling for her mother.

Stone turned back to the drive, walking thoughtfully around the Jeep. He’d seen Emma down by the gate arguing with Nate. Torn between ignoring his father and protecting the woman he loved, he didn’t know whether or not to interrupt them. Emma didn’t see the truth, didn’t know the animal that lurked beneath his father’s calm demeanor.

Making a decision, he walked slowly across the pasture. He’d be out of sight, but within a quick jog should she need his help.

***

“I can’t believe you’ve shut down Clover.” Nate’s face flushed crimson as he continued to scream the same thing over and over at her.

Once more, she attempted to reason with him. “It’s for the best. Why continue throwing good money after bad? The last report indicated no chance of survival.”

“You don’t know that.” His voice rang loudly, laced with an anger she’d never witnessed before.

“He’s
my
father, dammit.”

“And you’ve just sentenced him to death.”

Emma inhaled sharply. “How could you say that? The minute you brought that little speck of evidence to my attention, I’ve moved Heaven and Earth to discover the truth.”

“Why’re you suddenly giving up? I don’t understand this.”

“I’m not giving up. I’m being realistic. My father’s dead and nothing I can do will bring him back.”

“He’s not dead, and if the roles were reversed he’d go to his grave searching for you.” Nate stepped forward and pointed a shaking finger in her face. “No matter how much money it took.”

Emma blanched. Was he right? By doing as Stone asked and ending Clover’s overseas investigations, was she killing her father all over again. Nate pressed closer.

“You can’t shut down Clover.”

“I have to.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, and she stepped back, away from the angry accusation pouring from Nate’s eyes. It’s the right choice, she told herself silently. Stone’s flesh and blood. My father’s a ghost.

The evidence Nate brought her five years ago never panned out. Every tie leading back to that cryptic message went nowhere. The last report received from Clover indicated they’d discovered Hugh Gallagher’s grave, and it apparently contained his remains.

She shouldn’t be struggling with this decision.

It’s time to move on.

“It’s your conscience you’ll be dealing with, Emma. You’ll be the one responsible for burying your father down the line. How do you think that will feel? Knowing he’d been rotting in jail for years while you played mistress to my son?”

Emma bit her lip, struggling against the tears. His words knifed her heart, spurting forth guilt and anger all mixed together in a whirlpool of hurt. “That comment was uncalled for,” she said in a soft voice. “Don’t come here anymore until you’ve calmed down. You’ve no right to speak to me that way.”

“I owe him my life, Emma.”

“He’s gone, Nate. Accept it.” She softened her voice reached for the man who’d raised her. “You don’t owe him anymore. You’ve taken care of me and helped me be the person I am today.”

Nate backed away, his gaze burning fiercely. “All I’ve done is hide you and look at the damage that’s created.”

His words stinging, she turned and headed up the drive, her heart ripped and bleeding.

***

Stone stepped from the shadows and held an arm out to prevent his father from following Emma.

“Stone…” Nate said quietly, turning his attention from Emma’s retreating form.

“It’s time to leave.”

“You don’t understand…”

Stone shook his head. “If that isn’t a line I know well. I’m not a little boy anymore, and I damn well do understand. Get off my property.”

“You can’t let her do this.”

“Do what?”

“Shut down Clover.”

“What’s Clover to you?” Stone knew about Nate’s interest. It’d bothered him that Emma’s relationship with his father extended beyond River Run, beyond the fact that he’d been a surrogate father. An emotional tie of a phone call every now and then to check on one another seemed far less invasive to Stone than the fact they were in business together. He knew she’d never force Nate out of her life the same way he knew he’d never allow him in to his.

“It’s my chance for redemption.”

Stone laughed bitterly.

“Fine,” Nate said. “I don’t expect you to understand. Do this for Emma then. It’s everything to her. Damn it, Stone, don’t you see? Emma’s doing what she always does. She puts everyone else’s lives and loves before her own.”

“I’m not following you and, honestly, I don’t think I care. Now, leave.”

“She loves you.”

Stone glared at his father. “It’s no concern of yours.”

“It is when she’s sacrificing her life…her needs.”

“Maybe,” Stone spoke slowly, opening the gate and shoving his father through. “You’d better explain what you mean by that.”

“By protecting you and River Run, she’s committing her father to death.”

Stone frowned. “Nice try at attempting to invoke more self-doubt, Nate. Her father’s already dead.”

“No. He’s not. Ask Emma. She’ll explain all about Clover’s investigations. Then tell her you don’t care and let her find her father. Let her put her own needs above yours.”

“I’ve heard enough lies from you old man. You’re more delusional than I thought. Get off my land.”

Stone slammed the gate shut, locking it tightly. He didn’t glance at his father again, but jogged up the drive. Afternoon loomed ahead and pumpkins called. A few hours of innocent chatting with little kids and mindless carving of a holiday tradition sounded damn fine to him. He squashed the uncomfortable doubt that tugged at him.

Certainly Emma wouldn’t put the best interests of River Run over her father? Would she?

***

After calming her inner turmoil and washing away the remnants of tears, Emma headed to the picnic table out back. She paused and watched in amazement.

Stone sat between little Sally Haven and her older brother, Matthew. The two children chattered away, digging their small hands into the depths of the opened pumpkins. Piles of seeds and mush scattered the table, the children, and Stone.

She inhaled sharply as he turned his head to laugh at something Sally said. He appeared happy. Emma wanted him to act like that with her, unreserved, carefree…alive. The mixed signals drove her nuts. One second, he flirted and tossed her burning gazes full of want and desire…the next, his eyes iced over, pushing her away and declaring his distance.

It’s time, she thought. Time for honesty.

Emma smiled as she headed for the picnic table. She’d seen the results of Stone’s handiwork for the afternoon. The youngest children were finished with their pumpkins and now lay napping within their parent’s room. River Run’s guests lounged before crackling fires, shooting pool and thoroughly enjoying the respite granted them by the impromptu pumpkin carving project.

Stooping for a quick pat and quiet word with Pocahontas, she shivered as a chill breeze swooped across the pasture. Stone rose from the table, making room for her to sit between the last remaining children.