What Mattered Most (19 page)

Guilt chilled the warmth. She couldn’t imagine losing these moments, and part of her regretted telling John he couldn’t come by every evening. She hated it, but even so, her sense of self-preservation was stronger than the regret.

A soft rustle of beads signaled Caitlin’s presence. Lanie glanced up to find her cousin watching her from the doorway. A tense smile curved Caitlin’s mouth. “Tristan’s here. Ready to go?”

Lanie brushed a fingertip over her son’s wispy hair. “Leaving him is harder than I thought it would be.”

Caitlin crossed her arms over her midriff, her dress’s silver beading clicking with the movement. “It will do you good to get out. Tristan has your cell phone number, and mine, if anything happens. We’ll even call it an early night.”

Lanie smiled. “You convinced me.”

They went downstairs, Lanie wondering if the scandalous heels she’d chosen were really a good idea. When was the last time she’d worn high heels anyway? Probably that first, and only, Valentine’s Day with John, just weeks before she discovered she was pregnant. His eyes had flared when he’d glimpsed the strappy, stiletto sandals, and she’d ended up leaving them on while he made love to her.

Putting his reaction to those dangerously high heels out of her mind, she enjoyed the feel of her new red dress. The silk shifted like caressing fingers over her skin, the asymmetrical hem fluttering about her legs. Knowing the scarlet hue set off her hair and skin, she felt attractive for the first time in what seemed like forever. With an artfully messy updo covering the incision site on her scalp, she could even let herself forget the scar and still-bare spot.

Dennis lounged against the banister, and his playful, appreciative whistle boosted her spirits further. He wrapped an arm around Caitlin’s shoulder and grinned. “Ladies, I am going to be the envy of every guy at this shindig.”

Excitement tingled under her skin. Music and dancing were old loves, and she felt their call tonight. With Tristan’s reassurances relieving her last remnants of maternal guilt, she followed Dennis and Caitlin to the car.

The historic Seaview Hotel rose above the beach with restored twenties splendor. Images of crystal chandeliers and a polished ballroom floor danced in Lanie’s head as Dennis handed his car off to a valet. In the spacious lobby, small groups congregated, talking, laughing, and sipping drinks. Surrounded by friends and acquaintances, Lanie relaxed further.

Moving through the lobby, they stopped several times as Lanie fielded hugs, handshakes, questions about her health and congratulations on her baby’s birth.

When they walked away from the last group, Dennis glanced at his watch. “We’ve got a while before dinner. How about if I go to the bar and get us something to drink?”

Grateful, Lanie smiled. “A white wine would be wonderful.”

Dennis nodded. “What about you, Cait?”

“Make it two.”

“Be right back.” Dennis disappeared into the chattering, laughing crowd.

“Are you tired?” Caitlin fingered the fringe of beads at the hem of her dress. “Do you need to sit down?”

Lanie shook her head, the noise of countless conversations pressing in on her. A slight ache began at her temples. “But when Dennis gets back, I wouldn’t mind stepping out for some air.”

“Hey, gorgeous, fancy meeting you here.” Casey’s enthusiastic voice brought a smile to her face, and she turned to greet him. The smile froze on her face, her breath strangling in her throat. Standing with Casey, hand tucked through his elbow, was Beth.

Lanie stopped herself from taking a step back. Beth’s split lip had healed, and wearing a dark blue dress that hugged her curvy, petite figure, she radiated beauty and confidence. She stared at Lanie, a smile on her lips and something like anger crackling in her bright blue eyes. Lanie’s gaze darted away, seeking John. Acid bitterness curled in her. He wouldn’t be far away.

The impressions jumbled through Lanie’s mind in seconds. If Casey noticed anything amiss in her reaction, he didn’t show it. He wrapped her in a quick, hard hug and stepped back, whistling. “That is some dress, Lanie. You look awesome.”

Pride forced her to widen her smile. She curved her fingers around his forearm, a teasing, flirtatious gesture. “You don’t look so bad yourself, McInvale. Where’s Lisa?”

Casey grinned. “She had to work, so I’m making the extreme sacrifice of escorting Beth tonight. It’s a hard job, but—”

“Oh, stop,” Beth commanded. She smiled at Lanie again. “You’re looking very well, Lanie.”

“Thank you.” Lanie struggled to keep her voice even. Beth wasn’t to blame for the mess Lanie’s life was in. She couldn’t help the way John felt about her. “You look great.”

“We sound like a mutual admiration society.” Casey’s lighthearted enthusiasm did little to alleviate the tension. He glanced at Caitlin. “Gorgeous, you want to introduce me?”

Her mind whirling, Lanie made the introductions automatically, including Dennis as he returned. Sipping her white wine, she scanned the crowd again. No John.

“John should be along in a little while,” Casey said, as though reading her mind. “He didn’t want to come, but Beth worked her magic on him. He was in the shower when we left.”

Anger washed Lanie’s vision with a haze, and she swallowed past the lump of jealousy in her throat. Of course, he’d show up. Beth was here. She turned to Caitlin. “You know, I am a little tired.” She winced at the brittle tone of her own voice. “Let’s see if a table is available yet.”

Casey glanced around at the crowd. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard yet. Tell you what—we’ll find Hank and Alison and join you.”

Her only reply a tight smile, Lanie spun and walked away.

Dinner turned out to be a miserable affair. The Seaview cuisine, famous throughout Texas, tasted like dust and ashes in Lanie’s mouth. She pushed baby salad greens around her plate, unable to eat more than a bite of the spiced cornbread croutons. Conversation bounced around the large table, Casey kept the air lighthearted, but Lanie couldn’t forget the empty chair between Hank and Casey.

Finding Beth’s narrowed gaze on her every time she looked up didn’t help either. Beth reminded her of a cat, waiting to pounce on it prey. Spearing a cob of baby corn and dipping it in the light house dressing, Lanie swore not to give her the opportunity. As soon as dinner was over, she was out of there. She would use Sonny Buck as an excuse and catch a cab.

The escape route made her feel marginally better. Commanding her stomach to settle down, she took a long sip of ice water.

A server approached to remove their salad course. He eyed the untouched plate in front of the empty chair. “Is your other party not joining you?”

“The other party is here.” John’s deep voice turned every bite Lanie had eaten into a lump of ice in the pit of her stomach. She glanced up to find him standing behind Hank’s chair, his unreadable gaze steady on her. He clapped Hank on the shoulder. “Shove over, would you, Starling?”

With good-natured grumbling, Hank shifted to the empty chair, which left John seated at Lanie’s right. Along with his woodsy scent, his warmth enveloped her, and the muscles low in her stomach trembled. Aware of his gaze on her face, she lowered her eyes and fiddled with her napkin, wondering why he hadn’t asked Casey to move so he could sit next to Beth.

The interrupted conversation picked up again. The waiter began to place the main course, and John shook out his napkin, his elbow brushing Lanie’s bare arm as he spread the linen square in his lap. He tilted his head toward her. “Who’s with Sonny Buck?”

She didn’t look at him, his voice doing crazy things to her nerve endings. “Tristan. He was asleep when I left.” She lifted her goblet again, wetting her dry throat. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

He leaned back to give the server more room, his arm around the back of her chair. When he spoke, his breath stirred the hair at her temple. “I didn’t know until this afternoon.”

“Beth convinced you, huh?” She picked up her fork, using the action as an excuse to scoot away from his enticing heat.

“In a way.” He straightened and reached for his own fork, but didn’t drop his arm from her chair. “But I’m not here because of Beth.”

With his torturous presence, there was no way she could eat. Lanie choked down a few bites of grilled seafood and vegetables, his every movement filling her with tingling awareness. Hoping to be distracted from his appeal, she tried to focus on the current topic of discussion at the table.

Casey laughed and waved his fork in John’s direction. “This is how spoiled the kid is going to be—it’s March, and O’Reilly is already hiding Christmas presents in the closet.”

John grinned. “One. I have one gift for him stashed up there, McInvale. Stop exaggerating.”

Through lowered lashes, Lanie shot a glance at John. He was already Christmas shopping for Sonny Buck. Thinking ahead. Planning to be a father for the long haul.

Turning his head, he caught her looking at him and grinned. He leaned closer. “Wondering what’s in that closet for you?”

Ignoring the warmth pooling in her stomach, she pushed pure ice into her voice. “Save your money, O’Reilly. I don’t want anything from you.”

He straightened, the skin around his mouth taut and pale. “You’re not going to give an inch, are you, Falconetti?”

She shot him a look. “Do you expect me to?” Folding her napkin and laying it by her plate, she rose. “Excuse me a minute. I’m going to call and check on the baby.”

The hotel had a large stone patio off the lobby, and she drank in grateful breaths of the cool sea breeze. A quick call to Tristan confirmed that Sonny Buck still slept peacefully. Tucking the cell phone back in her small bag, she walked to the balustrade and stared out over the waves.

“You know, Lanie, he’s not going to hang around and let you kick him in the gut forever.” Beth joined her at the railing. “Don’t you think he’s been punished enough?”

Startled, Lanie shot her a wary glance. “What are you talking about?”

Beth matched her glare for glare. “He was a shallow jerk, and he followed his libido into your bed. I don’t remember you asking for hearts and flowers at the time. When the condom broke and you got pregnant, he took responsibility. He avoided the emotional involvement, but a lot of guys would have just walked away and left you to handle it on your own. He didn’t.”

Nerves trembling under her skin, Lanie feigned a bored air. “And how is this any of your business?”

Looking unimpressed, Beth folded her arms over her chest. “Because he’s probably the best friend I’ve ever had and you’re ripping him apart. He loves that baby, and for some unknown reason, he loves you. And instead of thanking your lucky stars that he does, you’re still punishing him for what Doug did.”

Anger sparked to life, burning away the nerves. “You think this is about Mitchell? This is about—”

“Me,” Beth finished for her. “Or what you think John feels for me. About him not telling you about our past. Then why aren’t you blaming me? I’m the one who wouldn’t let him, who made him keep my secrets, even when he didn’t want to.”

“I can’t—”

“Blame me because I’m a victim, too?” Beth’s laugh was harsh, ugly. “Yeah, it’s not real PC to blame a victim. But don’t you see, Lanie? John was Doug’s victim, too. He robbed me of my life, Nicole of hers. He stole your baby’s birth from you. And he stole John’s chance to sort his feelings out in his own time. You know, he would have figured out that I wasn’t the woman he really loved, probably about the time he helped you bring his son into the world. Doug robbed you both of that experience.”

Lanie didn’t want to listen, didn’t want to think about the weird kind of sense Beth’s words made. She locked trembling hands onto the carved stone railing. “I can’t believe you’re making excuses for him. He should have told me.”

Beth pinned her with another look. “And what secrets do you keep from him? Does he know everything about you? He has his share of ghosts, Lanie, and they kept him from confiding in you. You just never bothered to find out what they were.”

Speechless, Lanie stared at the other woman, confused thoughts tumbling in her head. What kind of ghosts? Like his mother? Had she been that wrong about him?

“One more thing,” Beth said, rubbing at her arms. “You’re going to drive him away, and some other woman will welcome him with open arms. Can you live with that? Think about it, Falconetti. That stubbornness of yours isn’t going to keep you warm at night when he’s in someone else’s bed.”

Hands tucked in his pockets, John leaned against the wall and watched the couples on the dance floor. His own future stretched before him, grim and empty. He could give Lanie all the time from here to infinity or tell her how he felt every second of that period, but none of it would matter a damn. She wasn’t coming back to him.

Head tilted back, he closed his eyes, not able to handle watching the happiness of others any longer. Beth had thrown that crack about eating his gun at him, but he didn’t even have that option. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, do that to Sonny Buck.

A light, familiar touch on his arm snapped his eyes open. Lanie stood beside him, her golden eyes shadowed. He straightened, nerves thundering in his stomach. “What’s wrong? Is it Sonny—”

“He’s fine.” She swallowed, and he watched the fine muscles in her neck work. Her collarbones stood out above the deep neckline of the red dress, the line of her cleavage inviting his touch. In his pockets, his hands clenched tighter. “I’m ready to leave, and I thought… I thought you might like to come with me.”

He wanted to read something into her invitation, to believe some miracle he didn’t deserve had occurred to change her mind. Instead, he glanced at his watch. Ten o’clock. The baby would wake for a feeding around eleven. He hadn’t seen his son in four days, and he couldn’t miss this opportunity.

“Yeah, I would.” He gestured toward the dance floor. “I’ll drive you. Do you need to let them know you’re leaving?”

She nodded, still gazing at him with that unreadable expression in her eyes. “I’ll meet you out front.”

The valet pulled his car around, and John leaned against the passenger door. A couple of minutes later, Lanie walked out, and the breeze molded the silk of her dress to her body. John stared, his hungry gaze following the curves and planes of her form. Eyeing the line of her thighs, he felt the familiar heaviness settle in his groin.

Forget it, O’Reilly. She invited you home to see the baby. She’s not interested in anything else
.

He straightened and opened the door as she approached. She smiled, her hand grazing his upper arm. “Thank you.”

His body jumped under the brief touch, heat zinging from the point of contact to his groin. Dragging in a deep breath, he crossed to the driver’s side and slid behind the wheel. Lanie twisted to fasten her seatbelt, the skirt of her dress riding high on her thighs, knees angled toward the gear shift.

When he shifted gears, his wrist brushed the bare skin of her legs. The brief drive to what had been their home was torturous. Surrounded by the evocative scents of cinnamon and vanilla, John was bombarded by memories of other journeys, when he’d been free to stroke a hand up her thigh, or her hands had roved over him, making him crazy.

The Clapton CD changed tracks, the distinctive strains of “Wonderful Tonight” filling the car, and Lanie sighed.

“I love this song.” She leaned forward to turn up the volume. Her breast brushed against his hand on the gearshift, and he sucked in a harsh breath, the tightening in his groin growing. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was deliberately trying to drive him crazy.

He turned into her driveway and jumped from the car, coming around to open the door for her. She walked ahead of him up the walk and stairs, and he found it impossible to keep his gaze from the sway of her hips under red silk. Sonny Buck better wake early, or he risked having an insane father.

Once inside, Lanie greeted Tristan, and John listened in disbelief as the young woman told them Sonny Buck had indeed woken early, taken his bottle and gone back to sleep. Irritation jerked under John’s skin. He’d endured the torture of her seductive presence for nothing.

He stood in the living room, glaring out at the waves, while Lanie walked Tristan to the door. When she returned, he watched her reflection in the glass, his chest aching. God, he wished she still wanted him.

He wanted her to love him.

Jerking a hand through his hair, he turned. “I should go.”

A nervous expression flitted across her face. She walked toward him. “We need to talk.”

That was never a good phrase to hear from a woman. He had a sickening premonition that she was going to ask that his visitation hours be changed, shortened, and he prepared himself for a fight. He’d lost her. Damned if he was giving up any more time with his son.

She didn’t stop until she stood directly in front of him, so close he could see the tiny pulse in her throat. He stared down at her, his heart pounding, knowing that if she got any closer, she’d be able to feel exactly what she did to him. “Lanie, can’t this wait? We’re both tired—”

Leaning up, she covered his mouth with hers.