Time for Love , The McCarthys of Gansett Island, Book 9 (43 page)

He’d worked up quite a head of steam when he pulled into the driveway and came to a skidding stop. He was out of the truck and into the house so fast he nearly knocked over his mum as she bustled around the kitchen making dinner.
 

“You missed quite a day,” she said.

“Caro… Is she okay?”

“Go see for yourself.”

He bolted for the bedroom, where she was sitting up in bed, bright-eyed and smiling. Seeing her looking happy and healthy was such a relief that he stopped short in the doorway to collect himself.

“Well, come here, will you?” She held out a gauze-covered hand to him.

Not wanting to hurt her hand with the power of the emotions running through him, he went around her outstretched arm and sat gingerly on the side of the bed. “What the hell is going on?”

She rested her hand on his leg. “We’re grandparents! Janey had the baby.”

“Wait, what? Isn’t it too soon?”

Carolina tearfully told him the story of Janey’s emergency C-section and the dramatic arrival of P.J. Cantrell as she showed him the pictures Joe had sent her. “They named him after Pete,” she said softly. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Aye, it ’tis, love. A wonderful tribute indeed.” He leaned forward and kissed her.

She curled her hand around his neck and held him there, looking into his eyes.
 

“You’re the sexiest granny I’ve ever met,” he whispered.

Laughing, she said, “Sure I am. All scratched and gouged and bloody.
Sexy
.”

“Always. Congratulations, Carolina. Your son has made you very proud today.”

“So very proud. I just wish I could be there with them.”

“The second you feel up to traveling, love, I’ll get you there. I’ll get you to your boy and his family.”

“Our family. Yours and mine.”

Damn if his heart didn’t stop beating for a second when she said that. “Aye?”

“Aye.”

He pulled back from her so he could see her better. “What’re you saying, Caro?”

“You asked me to marry you some time ago, and I wasn’t able to give you the answer you wanted, but now…”

“What about now?” Filled with irrational hope, he barely dared to breathe as he waited to hear what she had to say.

“I was worried about what Joe would say about us, and he seems to have come around to the idea. I was worried about what your mother would think, but we had a good talk today. She said she’s sad that you’ll never be a father, but when I told her you’d be a hands-on grandfather to Joe and Janey’s baby… You will be, right?”

He swallowed a huge lump in his throat. “God, yes. I can’t wait to meet the little guy and spoil him rotten.”

“She and I agreed you’ll be an excellent grandfather. What would you like him to call you?”

Clearing his throat, he said, “My sisters’ kids call my father Da.”

“Grammy and Da,” she said, trying it on for size. “What do you think?”

Nodding, he said, “Works for me.”

“It’d probably make things easier to explain to P.J. if his Grammy and Da were married, don’t you think?”

“I suppose it would set the right example for the boy,” he said, loving the glimmer of humor in her beautiful eyes as she led him to where he’d wanted to be all along.
 

“So…”

“Oh, no way. This one’s
all
on you. I’ve asked and asked and been turned down over and over and over again. A man’s fragile ego can only take so much rejection.”

“All right, then.” As he watched her screw up her courage to ask a question that was a sure thing, he had never loved her more. “Seamus Padric O’Grady, would you please, for the love of God and all that’s holy, marry me and make an honest woman—”

He kissed her hard and long and deep.

“—out of me?”

“Yes, love. ’Twould be my honor to marry you and make an honest woman out of you, as long as it’s still okay for me to sneak up on you in the middle of the day and have you on the kitchen table once in a while.”

Her face flushed with color as it always did when he talked dirty to her. “We might be able to work something out where the kitchen table is concerned.”

“I love you, Caro. I love you, I love Joe and Janey, and I’ll love P.J. as if he were my own flesh and blood.”

“I know you will. Why do you think I asked you to be his grandpa?” She held out her arms to him, and he moved slowly and carefully to rest his head against her chest.

When she wrapped her arms around him, he let out a deep sigh of contentment.
 

“Thanks for waiting for me to work it all out in my mind.”

“You’re certainly worth all the pain and agony you put me through.”

She tugged hard on a handful of his hair.

“Aw, love, you don’t want a bald, old grandpa chasing you around the kitchen table, now do you?”

“I just want you chasing me around the kitchen table.”

“You got it. Once a day and twice on Sunday, but only if you’re good.”

Her laughter filled his heart to overflowing as one word cycled through his mind again and again: finally, finally,
finally
.
 

*

Ned dropped Tiffany and Blaine at her house and tooted the horn as he took off in the Rolls Royce. Arm in arm they started down the long driveway that led to the house.

“He’s going to get a ticket if he drives like that on my island.”

Tiffany had her high-heeled sandals looped around her fingers and her bridal bouquet—returned by Grace after she caught it—hanging from the same hand. “His new son-in-law will square it away for him.”

He put his arm around her. “Is that why you married me? To keep your family out of trouble?”

She rested her head against him. “Someone’s gotta do it.”

“I knew it. You’re only after the uniform.”

“It does make me hot for you.”

“Mmm, remind me to never retire.”

“One hell of a day, huh?”

“One hell of a day. Thank goodness Janey and the baby are okay, and we still managed to eke out a bit of a celebration despite the drama.”

“I can’t believe we pulled this off with only two days’ notice.”

“That’ll learn you to never underestimate your new husband.”

“As if I ever would. I learned that lesson early on with you. Hello? Ceiling fans?”

That drew a deep rumble of laughter from him. “Speaking of ceiling fans…” The words died on his lips when they rounded the corner to the back deck and found Jim Sturgil sitting on the stairs.

With his hair standing on end and his dress shirttails pulled from his pants, he hardly resembled the pressed and polished attorney he’d become since they returned to the island.

“Jim?” Tiffany stopped walking and felt Blaine’s body go tense next to her. “What’re you doing here?”

“This is my house. Remember?”

“Do we really have to go over this again?”

“What do you want, Sturgil?” Blaine asked.

“I’d like to speak to my wife, if it’s just the same to you.”

Tiffany and Blaine exchanged glances, and she nodded, letting him know it was okay to answer Jim any way he wished to.

“Actually, she’s not your wife anymore. She’s mine, as of about two thirty today. So you can see you really have no business here anymore. This is her house, not yours. And she’s my wife, not yours. You got everything you wanted, and now so do we. Unless you want trouble—and I mean really big trouble—you need to head home.”

Jim stared up at them, the glow of the porch light highlighting the shock on his face. “You’re married.”

“You heard him, Jim. We’re both asking you—as nicely as possible—to please leave.”

He stood slowly, and Tiffany held her breath waiting to see what he would do and hoping it wouldn’t be something awful.
 

“You didn’t waste any time.”

“I’m done wasting time,” Tiffany said.

“Well, I suppose I deserved that.”

Tiffany decided to take advantage of the weak moment. “I don’t want to fight with you about Ashleigh. It’s not what’s best for her. It’s time to stop fighting and move on, Jim. Enough is enough.”

After a long, pregnant pause, he turned and walked down the driveway, hands in pockets, shoulders hunched.

“Oh hey, Sturgil,” Blaine called after him. “Great job getting Truck Henry out of jail on a technicality. You’ll probably be hearing from him tonight.”

“What for?”

“He’s already gone after Daisy Babson again. We’ve got him in custody. Not even twelve hours out of jail and he’s locked up again. You sure can pick ’em, Counselor. You might want to give some thought to what your daughter will think of you someday when she finds out you’re making a living from defending guys who beat up on women.”

“Screw you. Don’t talk to me about my daughter.”

“Someone’s gotta.”

Luckily, Jim decided to give Blaine the last word. He turned and took off, probably heading to deal with his wayward client. Tiffany blew out a deep breath, relieved that he was gone.

“You’re trembling, honey. I hate how he does that to you.”

“Let’s hope that’s the last time.” She forced a smile for his sake. “Now, where were we before we were rudely interrupted?”

“I believe,” he said, pressing kisses strategically against her neck, “we were talking about ceiling fans.”

“Ohhh, I love ceiling fans.”

“So I’ve noticed.” They went up the stairs to the back door, and when she started to go in ahead of him, he pulled her back. Lifting her into his arms, he twirled her around and made her laugh. “We’ve gotta do this right, baby.” As her arms encircled his neck, he kissed her passionately, possessing her the way only he could, the way only he ever would.

His lips still fused to hers, he carried her over the threshold, kicked the door shut behind them and headed straight upstairs, laying her on the bed and coming down on top of her.

“
That
was quite sexy,” she said when he finally broke the kiss and turned his attention to her neck.

“You think so?”

“Mmm. I think just about everything you do is sexy, including the way you talked me into a wedding two whole days ago.”

“That was one of my better ideas, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was.”

“So from now on, whenever I come up with a harebrained scheme, you’re going to just roll with it because I’ve proven I’m always right.”

“Wait a minute…”

He laughed as he kissed her. His hands were everywhere, tugging at the zipper that ran down the side of her dress and then starting at the hem to push it up and over her head, leaving her only in the ivory lace teddy she’d worn under it.

“Oh, damn, Tiffany. You take my breath away. You’re so beautiful. And now you’re my beautiful wife, and I’m so happy.”

His words sparked an urgent need in her. “Get this off,” she said, pulling on his suit coat and the buttons on his dress shirt.

“Easy, honey. We’ve got all night. And all day tomorrow. And tomorrow night.”

Ashleigh was spending the weekend with Mac and Maddie so they could have some time alone. “I’d like you to perform your husbandly duties immediately.”

Taken aback by her directive, he stared at her as his grin unfolded slowly across his face. “So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?”

“Yep. Now get moving before I get cranky.”

“We wouldn’t want that to happen.” He got up, lit the candles they kept on the bedside table and went to set the ceiling fan to their favorite setting—high. “Spread your legs,” he said gruffly as he shed the suit coat and began slowly—too slowly, if you asked her—to unbutton his shirt.

Tiffany moved her feet apart.

With his shirt hanging open, he leaned over the bed and took her by the hips, positioning her on the bed to maximize the impact of the fan. He slid his fingers over the silk that covered her until he found the snaps between her legs and tugged them open.

The rush of the air against her sensitive flesh had the usual effect, making her squirm on the bed as he continued to slowly disrobe.

“I know what you’re doing,” she said through gritted teeth.

“What am I doing?”

“You’re letting the fan do all the hard work for you so you can come in at the end and steal all the glory.”

He laughed and wrapped his hand around his erection, stroking himself as he watched her intently. “Is that so? Seems to me like all the
hard
work is always on my shoulders.”

“It’s not on your shoulders, dummy. It’s between your legs. Now get over here and make love to your wife.”

Shaking his head at her audacity, he came down on top of her. “You wait until now, after you get a ring on my finger, to show me this side of you?”

Tiffany smiled, more in love with him than she’d ever imagined possible. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want me if I let you know you’re not the only one who can be bossy and demanding in bed.”