The possibility that she would strangle Connor grew stronger with every passing moment. When Abby had suckered them into concession-stand detail for her Saturday soccer game, Nora had had no idea that he would become such a tyrant. Give a man a barbecue fork and he ruled the world.
“Nora, this dog’s getting cold.”
She whipped out a wrapper, grabbed a bun and held it out. Connor slid the hot dog between its covers.
“That’ll be a dollar.” After she placed the money in the till, she turned to glare at Connor, which was about all the movement she could muster. With the grill, ice bin and soda fountain, the stand barely had room for two people. His hip brushed hers, sending a shower of tingling pulses through her system.
“You’re in my space, Connor.”
He jerked his head. “Customer.”
A young boy stood on his tiptoes, two dollars crushed in his fist. “A Coke, please.”
She scooped a cup of ice.
“Less ice. The boy looks thirsty.”
She gritted her teeth, dumped out a few cubes and then pulled the soda spigot. “Here, you go, honey.” The child grinned and walked away, carefully carrying his cup.
Connor’s arm grazed Nora’s abdomen as he wiped away the one droplet of water she’d splashed on the surface of the fountain. A pulse of pleasure shot through her from the brief contact. Her late-night resolutions were no match for daylight and cramped quarters. She wrestled her control into place.
“Back off.”
“You’re good with kids.” The man didn’t play fair, delivering a compliment like that, along with a caress across her cheek.
She jerked her face away and leaned against the ice bin. A good chill would do wonders for her racing blood.
“I like them.” She rubbed her arms and looked out at the field. She could see the teams gathered in circles on the sidelines. Almost game time.
“Abby will be fine.”
“Her knee isn’t.”
“Doc Sims cleared her, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but—”
“No ‘buts.’ Stop fretting.”
Nora shot up. “I’ll fret about my daughter whenever I want to, Connor Devlin. I’ve been doing it for eleven years.”
“Customers. And she’s our daughter.”
Two giggling teenage girls wanted a diet soda, a bag of chips and a long look at Connor. Nora ripped the bags free from the display stand, while Connor pumped the sodas and accepted their money.
“Well, our daughter is playing with a bad knee on a field with more potholes than the freeway after a long, icy winter.”
Connor braced his elbows on the counter and nodded. “Can’t argue with that. This is where we used to play touch football every Sunday afternoon. The field was dilapidated then and it’s a wreck now.”
“It hasn’t been resurfaced in ages. The school’s budget doesn’t extend to the practice lots. The school spends what it has on maintaining the stadium field and makes do with patching this lot. But some of those quickie patches may hide deep holes. I worry every game that Abby or one of her friends is going to hurt herself.”
The crowd rose on the rickety stands and cheered as the girls ran out. Despite her worry, Nora smiled as she watched Abby’s ponytail sway while she lined up with her teammates.
Connor elbowed her. “Their uniforms aren’t very uniform.”
She nodded. “The team hasn’t had a corporate sponsor this season, so new members weren’t equipped with shirts. It’s all I can do to keep Abby’s old one clean from game to game.”
“Why isn’t something being done, like a fund-raiser? God knows, we did enough car washes in our day.” He winked. “I remember one drive was to raise money for some very nice cheerleading outfits.”
“You mean those glorified leotards.”
“All the better to show off the girls’ tremendous athletic ability.” Connor waggled his brows.
“Humph,” Nora sniffed before she smiled at the frazzled mother approaching with a baby kicking up a fuss and a red-faced boy dragging at her hand.
“Hi, Nora. One hot dog, please.”
She almost didn’t pry open the roll in time for Connor’s fork steaming wiener.
“Here you go, Margaret. That’ll be one dollar. Condiments are on the side.”
The woman blew a strand of hair out of her face. “Nora, can you grab my purse and take out the money?”
Connor nudged her for the hundredth time in thirty minutes. “Nora, she’s got her hands full. Put the toppings on for her. You’ve got plenty in those bottles.”
Margaret beamed. “Why, how sweet of you. No ketchup, very little mustard and relish.”
Connor waved his fork like a scepter. “It’s nothing. What are neighbors for?
Nora, make that light on the mustard and relish.”
“I’ve got an even better idea.”
She smiled sweetly. “Why don’t you give Margaret a break and hold the baby for her a while?”
“If you wouldn’t mind. Her name’s Kelly.”
“Not at all.” Nora reached over the counter, gently lifted the infant over the counter and then thrust him into Connor’s arms. His stunned expression as he stared at the squirming baby was a Kodak moment. For once he had nothing to say.
Nora hummed as she squirted on the toppings and spread them with a knife. “Here you go.”
“Thank you. Margaret handed the hot dog to her older son.
“Nora,” Connor leaned close to her ear.
“Yes?” She expected him to plead with her to take the baby.
“That was our song you were singing just now.” Nora’s mouth snapped shut.
“Connor, I can take Kelly now,” Margaret said.
He handed the baby over, but not before planting a kiss on top of the child’s fuzzy hair. A sense of loss swept over Nora at the sight of him being tender with the baby. He would have been like that with Abby.
“By the way, Nora—” Margaret expertly secured the baby “—I never got a chance to thank you for fighting the annexation. Our house property value would have shot sky-high, along with the taxes. Joe and I worried about having to move.”
Connor rested his elbows on the counter and leaned forward. “That’s why I’m writing Nora’s name in for school board on election day. We need more people who are concerned about the future of our children.”
Margaret looked uncomfortable, but her bright gaze was curious. “I’ve heard a rumor about you two.”
“That I’m Abby’s father?” Connor’s posture was so relaxed Nora could have sworn he was swapping baseball scores rather than facing the community grapevine. Three new customers now circled the stand, and they weren’t impatient to be served. “You heard correct. As the father of a terrific girl, I want the best for her education, and I think her mother will fight for all the kids.”
“Why isn’t your name on the ballot?” Margaret asked Nora.
Flashing Connor a glance that could shred bark at twenty paces, Nora muttered, “Oh, Margaret. It was something I mentioned in passing. It’s too late to file.”
The man standing behind Margaret stepped forward. Nora recognized him as one of the recent migrant suburbanites from Columbus; Howard something or other, she recalled. “Why not do as Connor said, Nora? Be a write-in candidate. It’s about time we had fresh blood on the board.”
“Nora’s pledging to lead a fund-raiser for a new field and uniforms,” Connor drawled.
If the man didn’t shut up in two seconds, he was going to have a hot dog stuffed in his mouth, Nora decided.
“About time! Count me in.” Howard pushed his baseball cap back on his head. “How much do you figure it would cost to replace the field?”
“I haven’t had a chance to investigate it,” she admitted.
Howard rubbed his chin, his eyes thoughtful. “Connor, you’re in the business. Can you give us an estimate?”
“My husband is a salesman for Sinclair’s Used Cars,” Margaret broke in. “I could have him ask about sponsoring the team’s uniforms.” She looked expectantly at Nora.
Biting her lip, Nora gazed at her daughter, who was hand in hand with her teammates for the pre-game huddle The improvements should be done, could be done. Someone only had to organize the drive.
Why not her?
“We’ll need a series of fund-raisers. With such a small property base, the school district doesn’t have a penny to spare,” she mused aloud.
“What’s this?” The glacial tones parted the crowd. Pastor Devlin, along with her faithful shadow, Wilbur Ames, appeared before the stand.
“Pastor.” This time Nora didn’t mind the sudden press of Connor’s body against hers. His warmth enveloped her, protected her. “We were talking about organizing fund-raisers for a new playing field.”
Sheila’s brow arched. “Oh, really. Truly commendable thought, but the school has needs much greater than a field. However, I’ll convey your concern to the board.” She turned, dismissing Nora as if she was a nuisance.
Connor’s arm circled Nora’s waist, and she leaned into the comfort he offered.
“Sounds more like you plan to bury the project, Mother.”
Sheila swung around. A faint flush crept across her face, but her condescending smile sharpened as she studied the pair. “The school board’s annual agenda is already set, but I’m sure Nora’s suggestion can be squeezed onto next year’s.”
Wilbur hooked his thumbs under his yellow suspenders and spoke in a raised voice to the throng, which had increased in size. “Folks, Pastor Devlin’s right. We would all like to have better facilities for our teams, but we simply don’t have the money.”
“Now, Wilbur, it’s not as bad as you think. I’ll get the sod at cost and donate the labor to lay it.” Connor winked at Nora.
Both Pastor Devlin and Ames looked thunderstruck. An elderly man who owned the local hardware store cupped his hands and hollered, “Connor, I’ll donate the paint for the lines.”
Another woman called out, “Nora, we could have a bake sale.”
The din grew as person after person volunteered. Pride flowed through Nora. She reached down and gripped Connor’s hand. He linked his fingers with hers.
They were going to build a new field for their daughter.
Late that afternoon, Nora worked at the desk tucked in the corner of her bedroom. She had at least one hour of peace and quiet before Abby was due home from her victory celebration at the local ice-cream parlor. Spread across the top of her desk was the Miller/Devlin file. If she was going to handle the account, she needed to know the extent of any potential problems.
The sound of a door slamming on the second floor startled her. Both Christina and Eve were at the pottery shop, which didn’t close until five. Nora rose, crossed to her doorway and checked the corridor. Abby’s door was shut.
What on earth? She walked down the hallway and knocked. “Abby?”
No response. Alarmed, she opened the door and entered. “Abby, are you all right?”
Her daughter lay sprawled across her candy-pink comforter, her face buried in a white eyelet pillow. Nora sat on the bed and stroked the back of Abby’s head. “Is your knee hurting?”
“No.”
“Have a fight with one of your friends?”
“No.”
Nora’s hand paused in midstroke. “Did one of the kids tease you?”
“No.”
“Want to tell me why you’re inhaling that pillow?”
This time Abby’s no was half-strangled.
“Are you going to make me play twenty questions all night?”
“Are you going to play lawyer all night?”
“Abigail McCall, that’s enough. Get your face out of the pillow before it becomes permanently imprinted and tell me what’s wrong.”
Abby rolled over, but away from Nora. Tears filled her red puffy eyes. “He can’t come.”
Nora prayed for patience. “Who can’t come?”
“Connor.”
A small knot of anger formed in her chest. He had made her daughter cry. “What can’t he come to?”
“This Thursday is Parents’ Day so I invited him to come.”
The knot turned and twisted. Nora had always accompanied her child on Parents’ Day.
“I thought the two of you could come together.” Nora’s tinge of jealousy eased. “But Connor said he had to be out of town. Something about a closing.”
Closing. Nora recalled the folders on her desk. A real estate closing. She pulled a tissue from the bedside container and mopped Abby’s face. “I won’t promise you anything, but I’ll talk to Connor. We’ll see if we can’t work something out.”
Abby sniffed. “Okay.”
She rose. “Honey, take it easy and rest that knee for a while. I’ll see you later.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Back inside her room, Nora sat at her desk and pawed through the files. There it was, with its neatly printed green-and-white label: Illinois Franchise Contract. She flipped open the folder and scanned the first page. Her temples began to throb. She tossed it aside and picked up another folder. She thumbed through contract after contract. Methodically she lined up the documents and slapped the file shut.
Rising, she pulled off her red shawl-collar sweater and snatched her jacket. She grabbed her briefcase and shoved the real-estate folder inside.
After all, a prosecutor needed evidence to present her case before revoking the privileges of the condemned man.
Connor whistled as he unloaded a new shipment. After an hour spent on the phone rearranging his schedule, he could relax. His right-hand man in Florida agreed to cover the formalities in Illinois this Thursday, leaving Connor free to attend Abby’s school event.
His first as a father.
He opened another bundle. To his delight, a few of the Century Two roses shipped from his Florida operation were budding. He touched the tightly folded petals, which only hinted at the rich pink blossom to come. He would plant them in attractive containers at the front of the greenhouse.
Connor’s breath caught as he tore free the packaging on the next batch. Deep-red ruffled blossoms sprung clear on one bush, along with an alluring lavish scent. God, he loved the classics, and nothing was more tried-and-true than Mister Lincoln—the finest red hybrid tea ever developed. Reverently he touched one of the glossy dark-green leaves.
The impromptu fund-raising committee was meeting tomorrow afternoon at the pottery shop. This bloom would look good in Nora’s lapel. He lowered his head and inhaled deeply. Magnificent.
Just as breathtaking as Nora.
Thoughtfully he stroked the velvety petals. It was a shame that he would be in a room full of people. Otherwise, he could find some interesting things to do with Nora and the rose. Even thinking about their kiss the other night caused a swift tightening in his groin. He had awakened that morning aching for Nora, only to spend the afternoon alone in a space no bigger than a tin can. At this rate, he was going to spend the rest of his life in a semi-aroused state.
He needed to figure out ways to alleviate the problem…and soon. The trick was to get past all the thorns shielding Nora.
“Connor! Are you out here?” Nora’s yell echoed through the vast greenhouse.
He sighed. Sounded as if she’d grown a few more thorns since he’d left her an hour ago. He put down his clippers and rose from his stool. “Back here,” he called, wiping his hands on a rag. He lost any attempt at a welcoming expression when he spotted her face. The temper glittering in her eyes could spark a fire. Clearly she was on the attack and he was the intended bull’s-eye.
Since she didn’t appear to be in a touching mood, he slid his hands into his jean pockets. Connor forced a casual smile. “This is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you until—”
Nora marched across the remaining distance between them and jabbed her finger into his chest. In her other hand she brandished a folder. “It wasn’t enough for you to return as the ‘Bad Boy Made Good.’ You had to make your comeback complete by hooking up with the old flame, enthralling her daughter and then dumping them both. You only told Abby a half-truth about being out of town. When did you plan to tell her you were leaving for good?”
Connor freed his hands and snared hers before she could gouge a hole in his chest. He wrapped her arm behind her back and jerked her body against his. “What are you talking about?”
“It doesn’t matter about me. I survived your leaving me before and I can do it again. But what about Abby? She’s just a kid. The kittens, the farm, the outings—they’re all links in a bond you’ve forged with her. She’s starting to accept you as her father.” With sweat beading on her brow, Nora struggled to break his grip. “How could you reject her like that? She invited you to Parents’ Day and you brushed her gesture aside like a gnat.”
Connor tightened his hold. Her eyes were fierce and bright. The blaze of her saccharine smile was all the forewarning he needed. As her foot raised to crush his, he tried to sidestep, but his legs tangled with hers. Both lost their balance. Twisting to take the brunt of the fall, he grunted from the force of the impact.
Immediately he rolled over, lying on top of her. With one hand, he cuffed her wrists above her head. Battling back his temper, he lowered his face toward hers. “What the hell is wrong with you, Nora? What brought on this tirade?”
She struggled to throw him off. “I saw the documents, Connor. I know.”
Ed Miller had taught him to count to ten to keep control; he needed every number before he could speak without yelling. “You know what?” he bit out.
“That you’re planning to open a business in Illinois, and the closing is Thursday.”
Bewilderment tempered his anger. “So? I’m also expanding Primal Rose to three other states. I would think the news would make you happy. It sure made Barnett delirious with the vision of legal fees dancing through his head.”
Nora lay motionless. “You’re not moving to Illinois?”
The storm within him dissipated. Suddenly her tantrum made sense. She thought he was going to leave town again. He studied her face and saw the raw pain in her eyes. What would it take for her to believe in him once more? How could he win back her trust?
He brushed his lips gently across hers. “No. The CEO of a national chain can basically live wherever he wants to. And I’ve decided to sink my roots here.”
Nora took a quick sharp breath. “You have?”
Connor trailed a few more kisses across her cheek. Into the void left by anger, desire surged thick and hot. He shifted until her hips cradled his arousal. Her body shivered in response, and lust speared through his system. He found her earlobe and bit it gently.
Tension eased from her body. She made a sound, half sigh, half whimper. “You’re not leaving.”
“I’m not leaving either you or Abby.”
At the restless movement of her hips, raw need whipped through him, driving him to the flash point. The primal smell of the conservatory only fueled his desire.
He struggled to find the slippery leash on his control. Harsh handling could bruise the delicate blossom of trust. He leveraged his upper body away, intending to roll off her.
Her arms circled his neck, yanked him down. “Oh, really? Sure feels like you’re in hurry to go somewhere.”
Connor looked into her eyes, misty with passion, and heard the snap of his chain.
His mouth crushed hers, powerfully, possessively. His tongue probed, penetrated her mouth. Deeper and deeper, he kissed her as if he wanted to fuse her to him forever. In the perimeter of his fogged vision, he spied a splash of red. He reached out and grabbed the rose.
With a single-handed grip on Nora’s wrists, Connor laid the blossom on her chest. Nora raised her head to look at the flower. “What are you doing?”
Connor merely lowered his mouth to sip at the sweet expanse of skin along the line of her neck. She trembled. Smiling, he continued to the first button of her blouse. Her jacket had fallen open during their tussle. He released her hands long enough to shuck it off. When she tried to put her arms around his neck, he again stretched them above her head.
Nora stirred restlessly. “Connor, you’re making me nervous.”
“Hush,” he ordered. “Trust me.” If he could get her to believe in him on this one level, maybe she would be able to trust him on others.
He opened the first button, exposing the first hint of the swell of her breasts. Slowly he stroked her skin with the tips of the rose petals. The corner of his mouth turned up when he saw goose bumps rise. His mouth replaced the rose, caressing every inch. Nora shuddered, her eyes drifting closed.
Clamping down on his own raging need, Connor tackled the next button, and the next. First the rose, and then his mouth. “Your skin is softer than any petal,” he whispered against the smooth valley between her breasts.
When there were no more buttons, he slid the shirt from her shoulders. This time, she made no effort to move her arms. Her upper body was a quivering bow of damp flesh.
“You’re so damn beautiful.”
He held the rose over one breast and fanned the bud back and forth across the nipple until it puckered and turned pink. When he finally began to suckle, the need began to burn inside him. Still, he moved to her other breast, tormenting it with the blossom and then drawing the nipple deep into his mouth.
Nora writhed. “Connor, please. I can’t take this!”
He surged up to kiss her again, nipping her lower lip. “Oh, no, honey. You’re going to stand a lot more before we’re done.”
Quickly he shed his clothes and removed the rest of Nora’s. After settling once more over her, he resumed his gentle torture with the rose. He trailed the petals through the valley between her breasts, along her trembling abdomen, across the soft curls at the juncture of her thighs, stroking until he touched her intimately with the flower. When she cried out, he laid his palm on her stomach to hold her still. He drew the rose across her sensitive folds once more and then held it to his nose.
The essence of Nora, all hot and womanly.
“Connor, please.”
He looked up and saw her holding her arms out to him. His control fractured, and he rose to brace his body on his arms. Although his need was raging, he wanted one more thing.
“Nora, look at me,” he commanded. Her eyes, smoky with passion, slowly opened. He ripped a petal from the rose and lowered his mouth to hers. In silent invitation he waited. She parted her lips, and he slid the petal into the warm recess. Her eyes widened, and he knew that she tasted herself on the petal. She swallowed heavily. Connor held her face between his hands and kissed deeply, drinking the erotic sweetness of Nora and the rose. He broke off, his gaze holding hers.
“You belong to me.” He drove in with one long thrust. She lifted herself, wrapping her legs around him. Together they moved in a timeless rhythm. When she began to climax, he finally yielded to his searing need.