Sean's Reckoning (13 page)

“Sean can come to dinner here,” she grumbled,
sending a scowl in Deanna’s direction. “I don’t know why you’re so anxious to move.”

“Because we’re in your way,” Deanna explained patiently.

“You are not. This has been fun.” She turned to Kevin. “Hasn’t it been fun?”

“Sure,” he said, apparently sensing the need not to hurt Ruby’s feelings.

Sean gave Ruby a sympathetic look. “You’re wasting your breath.”

“I know,” she admitted.

“If you’re going to be a sourpuss through all this, then don’t come with us,” Deanna told Ruby. “I want objective opinions on this new apartment, not self-serving criticism.”

When Sean started to say something, she scowled at him. “That goes for you, too.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, sharing a commiserating look with Ruby. “Where is this place?”

Deanna looked at a piece of paper on which an address had been written. She read it to him. “It’s only a few blocks from here.”

Sean winced. “And another world,” he said. “That area’s not that safe.”

“Would you stop with the grumbling before we even look,” she demanded. “Now, let’s go.”

Sean sighed and followed along as she and Kevin set out at a brisk pace. Ruby fell into step beside him.

“Can’t you stop her?” she asked in a low voice.

“You heard her. She doesn’t intend to listen to reason. She’ll only hear what she wants to hear. She’s in an independent frame of mind this morning.”

“No kidding,” Ruby muttered bleakly.

“Maybe the place will really be a dive, and she’ll
have to admit it’s a bad idea,” he suggested, even though he knew that unless it was tumbling down, Deanna wasn’t going to back out of making this deal. He and Ruby had pretty much backed her into a corner.

When they found the address, Sean was relieved to see that the building was an old brownstone. It wasn’t especially well kept, but from the outside at least, it didn’t look like a fire hazard. That was something in its favor.

Kevin, however, was regarding it with a doubtful expression. “Mom, it’s kinda ugly,” he said hesitantly, still clinging to Deanna’s hand.

“That’s cosmetic,” she said. “It doesn’t matter, as long as it’s clean and the pipes don’t leak.”

Sean frowned. “You might want to raise your standards just a little to include a lack of drafts. Boston winters can get pretty cold.”

She scowled right back at him. “The real estate agent said she’d meet us inside,” she said, entering the unsecured foyer and starting to climb the stairs. “The apartment’s on the top floor.”

“Great,” Sean said. “It’ll give us a chance to see if the roof leaks.”

Ruby barely managed to smother a chuckle as Deanna whirled around to glare at them. “You two want to wait outside?”

“Not a chance,” Sean said, staying right on her heels.

The door to one third-floor apartment was open, so they trooped inside. The real estate agent greeted them and began a spiel that would have sold Sean on the place had he not been standing in the middle of the dreary, cramped rooms. She assured them that the wa
ter stains were the result of now-corrected leaks. Ditto, the buckling wood floors near the windows. She didn’t seem to have an explanation for the grimy state of the ancient kitchen appliances, but Deanna dragged in her new favorite word—cosmetic—to dismiss the problem.

The two bedrooms were tiny, but they did have tall windows that might actually let in a fair amount of light once years of grime were washed away. The bathroom had a sink with rust stains and a claw-footed tub that had lost a good bit of its porcelain glaze.

It was, in Sean’s opinion, fairly awful, but Deanna was determined to see it with rose-colored glasses. The price was right and it would be hers.

“I’ll take it,” she said, even as the rest of them, Kevin included, choked back dismayed protests. She looked at each of them pointedly. “And I don’t want to hear one single negative word from any of you.”

Sean knew he and Ruby had no one to blame but themselves for kicking Deanna’s independent streak into high gear. Nothing short of the roof caving in on their heads before she signed the papers would have stopped her.

The real estate agent beamed as Deanna signed the lease and handed over a check. The agent’s day was obviously off to a rip-roaring start, if she could unload this dump before eight o’clock.

Seeing the defiant jut to Deanna’s chin as she paid the woman and accepted her copy of the one-year lease, Sean forced a smile. “So, darlin’, when do you want us over here to paint?”

She seemed completely flustered by the offer. “I don’t expect—”

“Name the time.” He’d taken just about as much
of her independence as he could handle for one morning.

“Saturday morning.”

He nodded. He might not be able to keep her from moving herself and her son into this dive, but he could make damn sure it was livable before she did.

“What color paint do you want?” he asked.

“I’ll get the paint,” she said.

His scowl deepened. “What color?”

Apparently she finally realized that she’d pushed him as far as she could push him. “Pale yellow for the living room walls, blue for the bedrooms. White woodwork.”

Sean nodded as he jotted it down. “Got it.”

“I think I should at least come with you,” she said. “In my experience men aren’t all that reliable when it comes to picking out paint colors.”

“Did you just insult my taste?” he inquired.

“Uh-oh,” Ruby said. “Kevin, I think you and I ought to wait outside.”

Kevin regarded her blankly. “How come?”

“Because your mother and Sean are about to have a discussion.”

The boy’s brow knit worriedly. “You mean a fight?”

Sean winked at him. “No big deal. Your mom just doesn’t seem to respect my eye for color.”

“Huh?”

“Go with Ruby. We’ll be down in a minute.” After they’d gone, he turned and faced Deanna. “You could accept my help graciously, you know.”

“It’s not your help I’m worried about. It’s the color scheme I’m likely to end up with. I’d feel better if I had a say.”

“You feel that way about a lot of things, don’t you?”

“Because, in my experience, men aren’t that reliable.”

“Are we talking paint now, or in general?”

She regarded him with an unflinching look. “In general.”

“Dee, have I ever let you down?” he asked, his tone softening.

“No, but—”

“But you haven’t given me a chance to let you down, is that what you were going to say?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

Sean wanted to defend not only his honor but the honor of all men, then decided not to. His father certainly hadn’t been that reliable. Maybe everybody generally sucked at relationships. Of course, his brother and Maggie seemed to be doing okay, but there were exceptions to every rule.

Deanna looked at him intently. “You’re not arguing.”

“No,” he said flatly. “I’m not arguing.”

That didn’t mean he didn’t want to kiss her and protect her and swear that he was different. He just didn’t have any solid proof that that was so.

T
he little set-to over paint at the new apartment was just one more example of Sean trying to control things, Deanna concluded after he’d left with Kevin and she and Ruby had gone on to work at the law office.

“If I don’t like the paint he chooses, I’m taking it back,” she muttered under her breath.

Ruby regarded her with amusement. “I’m pretty sure he understands that. Did either one of you ever consider the idea of compromise? Did you even suggest meeting him at the home-improvement store on your lunch break?”

“I said I wanted to take care of this myself,” Deanna said defensively. “It is my apartment, after all. I’m perfectly capable of selecting paint, brushes and whatever else I need to fix things up. I can also handle whatever work needs to be done. I haven’t had anyone to do things for me since I left home.”

“Knowing Sean, I imagine he thinks he’s just being helpful,” Ruby explained quietly. “He’s merely offering to take on something that would cut into your little bit of free time.”

Deanna tried to see it from Sean’s perspective. She was forced to admit that Ruby was probably right. That didn’t mean his presumption didn’t grate. Once she’d left home, she’d been forced to learn to rely on herself. She’d no longer been able to pick up the phone and hire someone to do whatever needed doing. She’d learned to be plumber, painter and basic mechanic. That necessity had only deepened after her divorce, when money was even tighter.

“If this is going to drive you nuts, call him,” Ruby suggested. “Errands are the third best use you can make of a lunch hour after sneaking off with your honey for a quickie or eating something totally decadent. Heck, Sean might even buy you lunch.” A grin spread across her face. “Or go with you to pick out a bed.”

He’d probably insist on it, Deanna thought irritably, then sighed. Why did she find it so annoying that Sean wanted to help? The answer was easy. It was precisely what she’d alluded to that morning. After Frankie—heck, even after her father’s rejection—she didn’t trust any man in her life to be reliable. Maybe it was even worse with Sean, because she wanted so badly to be proved wrong in his case.

She settled at her desk, handled the first few incoming calls, took a few messages, then when the phones were quiet, she called Sean.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said quietly. “I can get away from here for an hour at lunchtime. How about if I meet you to pick out the paint?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he said, clearly teasing, “is noon good for you?”

“Perfect.”

“I’ll pick you up in front of your office.”

“It’s only a few blocks. We can walk.”

“I know you think of me as a big, strong guy, but I am not hauling gallons of paint around. We need the car.”

He had her there. “I’ll meet you out front at noon,” she agreed.

Sean laughed. “See how easy that was?”

“Only because I agreed with you,” she retorted.

“That goes without saying. You should consider making it a practice. We’ll see how you do when it comes to picking out furniture.”

Even as Deanna deliberately hung up on him, she chuckled at his completely unrepentant attitude. She couldn’t deny, though, that she was looking forward to the trip to the hardware store as if it were a date for champagne and caviar. Heck, maybe more. Given her family background, she’d long ago discovered that she wasn’t really a champagne and caviar kind of woman. That was her mother’s domain.

Deanna could just imagine what Patricia Locklear Tindall would have to say if she knew her daughter was going on a date to pick out paint at a neighborhood hardware store. Truthfully, her mother probably wasn’t even aware such stores existed, and she surely wouldn’t have approved of Deanna dating any man whose idea of a good time was taking her to such a place. Add to that her mother’s opinion of any home that hadn’t been fully decorated by an interior designer before the move, and Deanna was pretty sure her actions would have her mother’s head spinning. And that
was even before she discovered that all Deanna’s furniture was likely to come from thrift stores.

Sean realized he’d made a mistake in agreeing to let Deanna accompany him when she spread ten different shades of yellow paint chips out on a counter and started pondering them, musing aloud about the advantages of one over the others. As far as he could tell, yellow was yellow. Maybe that was why she’d insisted on coming along.

She finally turned to him, a perplexed expression knitting her brow. “What do you think?”

“This one,” he said at once, choosing one at random.

“Really? Don’t you think it’s a little bright?”

He shrugged. “Looks fine to me, if cheerful’s what you want.”

“I want cheerful, but not overpowering.” She picked up a lighter shade. “How about this one?”

Eager to end the process, he nodded. “Fine. I’ll have ’em start mixing it.”

Before he could move, she picked up a second paint chip. “Then, again, this one is nice. It’s kind of soothing, like warm sunshine.”

Sean sighed and waited as a third chip was debated. “Could you at least rule out a couple?” he inquired. “You only have an hour for lunch, and we still have to look at all the blues.”

She frowned at him. “This is an important choice, one Kevin and I will have to live with for years and years.”

A knot formed in Sean’s stomach that had nothing to do with her disinclination to make a decision. It was the “years and years” comment that got to him.
She was making a commitment to paint, for heaven’s sake. Why should that bother him?

He answered the question himself. Because it implied that there was going to be no place for him in her life, not for “years and years.” She had more faith in the endurance of paint than she did in their relationship.

So what the hell was he supposed to do about it? Was he supposed to ask her to marry him just to keep her from choosing a paint? Of course not. The whole idea was ridiculous, but damned if he wasn’t tempted to do just that.

Because the temptation was so real and so disturbing, he fell completely silent and let her struggle on all alone with her debate over the new apartment’s color scheme. He wasn’t going to be a party to it, no matter how ridiculous that made him feel. It was better than admitting to her just how badly he wanted her to forget all about this whole move and stay with Ruby.

Or move in with him.
He was so stunned that such a thought had even crossed his mind, he had to clutch the edge of the counter to steady himself. That notion was even more absurd than marriage. She had a child. She had deeply held values. She wasn’t going to move in with him on a whim, not when she was gun-shy about relationships to begin with. Nope, with Deanna it was going to be permanence or nothing.

Sean sighed.

“Sean, what do you think?” she prodded, holding out what were apparently her two final choices.

Since one was right under his nose, while the other was barely in the air, he assumed there was a subliminal message there. “This one,” he said reluctantly, pointing to the closest choice.

Her expression brightened. “I think so, too. Now for the blues.” A frown puckered her brow. “Or do you think the bedrooms ought to be more neutral, maybe a soft cream color?”

He couldn’t do it. He could not debate the virtues of cream over blue, or vice-versa. Instead, he swooped in and kissed her to shut her up. He threw himself into the task, too, feeling the heat that spread through her almost at once, the way her knees buckled, so he practically had to hold her up. When he finally pulled away, she stared at him with dazed eyes.

“What was that for?”

He grinned and shrugged nonchalantly. “Just felt like it.”

“We don’t have time to go home and do anything about it,” she told him.

As if she’d even consider the notion in the first place, he thought, but encouraged by her teasing, he decided to push the point a little more. “We would if you’d finish picking out the paint.”

She laughed. “Nice try, but if you think I’m racing out of here to make love with you for the very first time with barely ten minutes to spare, you’re completely bonkers.”

“Fifteen minutes, if you let me come back and get the paint later,” he coaxed.

She patted his cheek. “Not a chance. I want lots and lots of time when we finally make love.”

When, not if. He made note of the distinction. Intrigued, he met her gaze. “Just out of curiosity, what do you intend to do with all that time?”

A blush crept into her cheeks. “Use your imagination.”

“Sweetheart, the way my imagination’s working
overtime, we wouldn’t have enough time if we locked ourselves away for a month.”

She grinned. “Precisely.”

Sean stared at her. The woman had a wicked streak he’d noticed only once before, way back when she’d taunted him with that ice-cream cone. It was now clear that hadn’t been an aberration. It was also evident that boredom would certainly never be a problem. Now if he could just shake this overall terror that the thought of marriage and forever instilled in him, he might actually work up the nerve to propose.

In the meantime, he’d just have to settle for getting her to decide on the paint before the store closed for the night.

Deanna was slamming pots and pans around in the kitchen when Ruby got home that night. Ruby stood in the doorway and watched her warily.

“You and Sean have a fight?”

“Nope.”

“You did go to pick out paint at lunchtime, right?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And nothing,” Deanna grumbled, then sank onto a chair. “The man is making me crazy. Out of the blue, right there in the middle of the hardware store, he kissed me as if there were no tomorrow.”

Ruby stared. “Oh, my. Were you embarrassed?”

“No, not really.”

“Mad?” Apparently, curiosity won out over wariness, because Ruby risked coming in and sitting down at the table.

“Only because there wasn’t time to finish what he’d started,” Deanna admitted. “I have never wanted a
man to make love to me so badly in my life. If he’d pushed just a little harder, I would have gone home with him then and there. Instead, he gave up.”

“You mean he took no for an answer,” Ruby teased. “Isn’t that what a gentleman’s supposed to do?”

“Well, of course it is,” Deanna conceded impatiently. “But it was annoying just the same. He should have figured out what I really wanted.”

“Men who think they know what a woman wants when she’s saying no tend to get themselves in a whole lot of trouble,” Ruby pointed out. “I’m sure Sean knows that. I think you’d better be a little more specific if you really want him to make love to you. Maybe set the scene, light some candles, put some flowers on the table, cook him a fabulous meal, kiss him till he can’t breathe.”

Deanna sighed at the suggestion. “Oh, yeah, that’s easy for you. You date all the time. You have confidence in yourself. I’ve been dumped by the only man I ever made love with. Maybe I’m really lousy at sex. Maybe I send out hands-off vibes.”

She knew that wasn’t entirely true. She had evidence that Sean wanted her, verbal evidence and solid proof, so to speak. His arousal today—and on other occasions, for that matter—had been unmistakable.

“Oh, please,” Ruby said. “Frankie Blackwell was a selfish, inconsiderate rat. He left because he was an irresponsible, immature idiot who thought you were going to be his meal ticket, not because you weren’t good in bed. He and Sean Devaney are nothing alike.” She regarded Deanna intently. “Is it really about being scared you’re not sexy, or is it about the fact that you’re terrified because you have feelings for Sean,
the kind of feelings you’d told yourself you would never have again?”

“I don’t have feelings for him, not the way you mean,” Deanna insisted heatedly. “I just want to make love with him. He’s gorgeous. He’s sexy. It’s all about lust, nothing more.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “If you were the type to go in for uncomplicated sex, I’d be the first to tell you to go for it, but you’re not. You’re the happily-ever-after type. You want romance and commitment. You’ve got a kid. You’re not going to indulge your hormones on a whim. If you were, you’d have done it long ago. You’ve had chances.”

“None worth considering,” Deanna said defensively. “And I could have uncomplicated sex. I’m not opposed to it.”

“Oh, please,” Ruby said dismissively. “How many times have you told me that you don’t even like to date because it might be confusing for Kevin? Now you’re willing to go to bed with a guy because you’re in lust with him? I don’t think so. It’s more than that. You’re completely crazy about Sean. You’re at least half in love with him, if not head over heels. Why not admit it and go from there? Men like Sean Devaney don’t come along every day, you know.”

Deanna flatly refused to consider that possibility. She didn’t want to be in love, therefore she wasn’t. Period. “I’m not going to admit to anything, because you’re wrong,” she said emphatically.

“I have one word for you—
denial.
”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Deanna insisted. But the sad truth was, Ruby had pegged it.

And that was the crux of the problem. Deep down,
buried in a part of her heart she hadn’t listened to for years, were feelings she wasn’t ready to acknowledge, not aloud, not even to herself. Deep down she knew she wanted more from Sean than sex. A tiny untested part of her wanted the one thing he’d vowed never to do. She wanted to get married, have a family with him and live happily ever after.

Those were the kind of feelings, hopes and dreams that led to heartache. It was far better—safer—to pretend they didn’t exist. It was far wiser to accept that there were limits to the relationship. Sean certainly thought there were. His reasons were valid. So were hers.

Deanna might believe with all her heart that Sean was capable of making that kind of commitment to a future, that he was steady and dependable and would never abandon his family the way his father and mother had abandoned him—the way Frankie had abandoned her.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t the one who needed to have faith in him. Sean had to have faith in himself. Without that, it didn’t matter what she wanted or what she needed. Thinking she could control Sean’s emotions—could heal old hurts for him—was a surefire way to get her own heart broken.