That night, I turned on the big-screen TV. Settling into the corner of the couch with my glass of whiskey, I tucked myself in with an afghan Aunt May had crocheted. My notebook of lists and plans for the inn’s renovation slid between me and the couch. I smiled at the roaring fire I’d managed to get going before focusing on CNN, which was covering a bombing in Kuwait.
Not a shooting in Miami.
I hadn’t eaten all day, but that was okay because I wasn’t really hungry. I didn’t need food, just some whiskey to help me survive the night ahead. Anything to help me sleep, without knocking me out so deeply I couldn’t hear danger approaching.
Even an hour of shut-eye would be nice.
Rubbing my face, I yawned and set my drink down. I froze when someone knocked. The only person who knew I was here was Paul, and he was in Bangor taking care of my identity crisis.
Heart pounding, I stood on the scratched hardwood floors, slowly creeping forward. A floorboard squeaked under my foot and I half expected to hear gunshots, but only silence followed. I opened the drawer I’d slid my gun into, resting my fingers on the cool barrel of the Glock.
Pulling the curtains back hesitantly, I peeked outside. And damned if I didn’t want to use that gun even more than before. Gritting my teeth, I let the doorknob go, glowering out the tiny slit of the curtain opening. Fricking Jeremy Holland. He stood underneath the flickering light on the porch, holding food and a bottle of wine, the soft amber glow making him look too hot for my liking.
There was no way in hell I was letting him in.
He rocked back on his heels and knocked again. When I didn’t move, he grinned and leaned in close to the door. “I can hear you breathing.”
I winced, covering my mouth, which was stupid, because unless he’d become a superhero over the years, he was lying.
“I know you’re in there, Chelsea O’Kane. Open up.”
Announce my identity to the whole world, why don’t ya?
I hesitated, pressing my hand against the door. What were the chances of him giving up and going away? Slim to none. Jeremy would never give up on anything so long as the slightest shred of hope remained.
“I have your favorite Chinese food. General Tso’s chicken, rice, egg rolls, and red wine.” He waited, and when I didn’t unlock the door, he sighed. “If you don’t let me in, I’m going to have to assume it’s not you in there. And if it’s not you, it’s a trespasser, so I’ll have to call the police.”
I closed my eyes, counting to three. Such a damn idiot. The best way to get yourself shot was to inform a possible criminal that you were going to report him. How had he survived all these years without me around to beat some sense into him?
Oh. Right. With his pretty blond wife.
Mary Walker—no, Mary Holland.
“All right.” He looked the door up and down before stepping back. I hoped he wasn’t about to kick it down. The damn thing wouldn’t stand a chance. “Suit yourself.” I saw him fish his phone out of his pocket.
Fricking Jeremy Holland. Pressing my forehead against the metal, I called out, “Call the cops and I’ll shoot you myself, asshole.”
He laughed, his finger hovering over the screen. “There’s the Chelsea I knew and loved.”
“You didn’t love me,” I replied coolly, resting my hand on the knob. “How’s Mary?”
He didn’t say anything to that. “Let me in.”
“No.” I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. My heart raced and my blood rushed. Knowing he was just inches away, on the other side of this door, made me feel more alive than I’d felt in…years. “Go home. Forget all about me.”
“Not happening. Why did you lie about who you were?”
“I didn’t,” I said quickly. “I’m not Chelsea O’Kane anymore.” I took a deep breath and focused on my story. It was imperative I convince him. “I was married, but he’s gone now. I kept his last name, though. Wanted to leave my ties to the O’Kanes in the past. You know the family motto, keep looking forward.”
“You got married? To who?” he asked, his voice hard.
“No one you knew.”
“Try me.” He jiggled the knob. I sucked in a breath. “Don’t make me break down the pretty pink door your aunt special-ordered all those years ago because it reminded you of a fairy palace. I just want to talk.”
I tightened my grip on the knob. “I’m talking to you now.”
“Doesn’t count.” He sighed. “Open up. Prove it’s you.”
Rolling my eyes, I turned the lock, because there was no way he was going to leave unless I told him to, and I’d promised Paul I’d contain Jeremy. Yanking it open, I glowered at him, breathing heavily because, God, he looked good. He’d changed into a flannel shirt, which was unbuttoned and hanging loosely over a tight gray T-shirt. And those jeans—God, those jeans—left nothing to the imagination. “Happy now?”
His gaze raked over me, and I swore he somehow closed the distance between us without moving, because I could feel it. When he finally met my eyes again, there was a heat that set me on fire. “No.”
“Too bad. Go home to your wife,” I said, stepping back, wrapping my arms around myself, holding on tightly. Being this close to him shook me off my axis. “I’m sure she wouldn’t be happy if she knew you were hanging around over here.”
He entered the house, shutting himself in with me. I could feel the power radiating off him, and damned if he didn’t smell exactly the same as he used to—like male, cologne, and fresh aftershave. I wanted to bury my face in his neck and breathe him in until his lips met mine like I’d fantasized about for years. Everything else faded away, but I didn’t move. That had been a onetime deal.
After sliding the lock home, he set the food and wine down on the table—the same one that held my gun. I quickly glanced at the slightly opened drawer but focused on the real threat.
Him.
He crossed the room and grabbed my chin, clearly ignoring the back the hell off vibes I was throwing his way. The second his fingers touched my skin, sparks of desire laced through my blood like heroin, as he stared at me like he had every intention of picking up where we left off all those years ago. “You’re blond.”
“Yeah,” I breathed. “So is your wife.”
His grip on me tightened. “You honestly think I would still marry Mary after you and I slept together the night before my wedding?”