Her Summer with the Marine: A Donovan Brothers Novel (Entangled Bliss) (7 page)

And with the exception of her dad, she hadn’t let herself feel anything in three years. Not since her longtime boyfriend, Nick, a man who said he wasn’t quite ready to commit permanently, left her and then got married twelve short months later.

She was not going to snap her winning streak of not getting her heart broken with Finn Donovan. Especially since they were enemies. What kind of crazy woman had sex with her enemy?

A woman who wanted it?

Which was sleazy. Or wanton.

Or normal?

She was a twenty-seven-year-old woman who hadn’t slept with anybody since she’d stopped trying to replace Nick. Was it any wonder Finn tempted her? The man was gorgeous. The one time they were together had been fantastic. And she was needy.

Plus, she no longer believed in forever love. Happily ever after didn’t exist. After all, look what had happened to her parents.

Signing in at the front desk of Harmony Hills Hideaway, she remembered the day her mom had died, the note on the kitchen table saying she was leaving her marriage, the visit from the chief of police when he’d told her dad his wife had been killed in an accident driving out of town—with another man.

The shock of a crumbled marriage combined with grief over his dead wife had just about destroyed her dad that night. But the next day, he’d behaved as if Ellie’s mom hadn’t left him. She’d simply been in the car with a fellow townsperson. He didn’t talk about why she’d been with Bill Jenkins. He’d simply mourned her like a true widower, and reminded Ellie she had been her mom’s precious little girl and she should focus on that, not the gossip roaring through town.

Even at twelve, Ellie didn’t quite buy into the story, but her dad did, and the older she got, the more she realized that was how he’d coped.

She stepped into the sitting room of her dad’s suite. When he didn’t recognize her, she reverted to responding the way the doctors and nurses had told her. Don’t argue with him. Don’t press facts. Don’t be upset if he behaves like a totally different person. It’s all part of his disease.

She sat on the sofa beside the chair, and waited an hour, as he watched TV, not even glancing in her direction. Still, she sat there, hoping something would jog his memory, but knowing nothing was going to.

Emptiness eased into hopelessness. But she refused to give in. She kissed his cheek, said good-bye, walked out of the facility, and slid into her car. The doctor had told her he was going downhill fast, that he’d probably been hiding symptoms for years, that he could even be entering the final stages, but she’d held out hope that with care he’d improve.

Today, she had to face the fact that maybe he wouldn’t.

When the phone rang, and Dan’s number appeared in caller ID, she bounced on it, grateful for the distraction. Had the success of Old Man Berkey’s funeral gotten her more business?

“Dan! What’s up?”

“Margaret Wojak died.”

“Sandy Wojak’s sister-in-law?”

“Yeah. And Finn got the funeral.”

“Oh.” She squeezed her eyes shut and started her car. “Okay. We should just wish him well, and hope the next one comes to us.”

“Your dad used to say that.”

“I know.” She took two breaths. Funny how now that he wasn’t always available to talk to her, she could remember so many things he’d said. So many wonderful things. “We’ll be fine.”

Before she could pull her gearshift out of park, her phone rang again. This time the Great Expectations number flashed on caller ID.

She turned off her car’s engine and answered the phone. “Ellie McDermott.”

“Hey, sweetie,” Nicole replied. “How’s it going?”

“Well, I had my first funeral today and McDermott’s did great.”

“Even the crazy blond chick?”

“She was perfect.”
Thank God.

“Everybody on staff needs to talk to you, but I asked to go first because I have some…sort of bad news.”

Ellie closed her eyes and sucked in a breath. What else was new? Her life seemed to be peppered with nothing but bad news.

“The way the payments from the Tidy Whitiez account are structured, your bonus won’t come through until the account is complete.”

She popped her eyes open. “What?”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t even get you an advance.”

“Damn it! I need that money.”

“I know you do.”

She combed her fingers through her curls. “It’s okay. My savings is equal to about three months’ worth of Harmony Hills Hideaway payments. And I got an income-generating idea from my competitor this morning.”

“The good-looking guy?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t even try to deny it. Finn was good-looking and sexy and smart. And, yeah, his being smart turned her on almost as much as that scruffy beard and the way he’d pinned her to his car’s fender as though he was ready to take her right then and there. “He’s selling prepaid funeral packages.”

Nicole said, “I have one of those.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I’m fifty. Not married. No kids. I didn’t want to end up in some dump cemetery with no headstone.”

Ellie laughed. “No kidding.”

“No kidding.”

“Well, I’ve got to figure out how to sell them. Especially if this bonus isn’t coming through until next year.”

“I completely agree, but we have to cut this short. Your staff is standing outside my door, staring at me like lost puppies because they need to talk to you. But if you want help coming up with a campaign for those funeral packages, we could probably give you a few hours this week. Set you up with brochures or ads to put in the paper or something.”

“That would be great, thanks.”

“Okay. Call me tonight. I’ll have time to talk then.”

Nicole put Marvin Brisbin on the phone, and Ellie walked him through a problem before he passed her off to Janine Rummel.

Sitting in the parking lot, talking to her staff, advising them on things that were elementary to her, her mind drifted back to Finn. She should be laughing, eager to see his reaction to whatever campaign her staff would put together to steal all the prepaid funeral package business, but all she could think about was the look in those shiny blue eyes when he’d trapped her against his car. The way he seemed to be pushing her, daring her to admit she found him attractive. The way something inside her bubbled up and longed to push back.

And wouldn’t he be surprised if she did? Now that she was older, she’d just love a long, lingering afternoon of sex with him. Or even a quick one. To show him she wasn’t a schoolgirl anymore.

She groaned. Damn. What she was she doing? Thinking about Finn?

No. Thinking about
sex
with Finn. And that was just wrong…

Or was it?

Really. She was a woman attracted to a very sexy man. That was normal. If they weren’t competitors, she probably would have acted on these feelings already. Of course, if they weren’t competitors their attraction might not be as much fun.

Fun.

She sighed with understanding. No wonder she reacted to him. She had no fun in her life. No distraction from all her pain and troubles. No way to work off some stress…

Damn. Now what was she doing? Justifying sex with Finn? Making an affair with him seem like the right thing to do, when it wasn’t?

She drew in a breath and put her attention on her staff. But her mind strayed back to gloating Finn, whose blue eyes seemed to look right through her clothes. Whose short, spiky hair was always sexily mussed. Whose muscles bulged when he moved his arms. Whose tattoos made her want to rip his clothes off.

Yeah. This was not good.

Chapter Eight

On the way back from the hospital, where he’d retrieved Margaret Wojak, Finn passed Ellie’s ugly red car sitting in the Harmony Hills Hideaway parking lot.

Damn, but she got his engines revved when she was all mad and snarky, and so damned sophisticated-looking in that sleek black dress. Aside from his brothers, she was the only person he was ever completely honest with. The only other person in town who knew about his dad. The only other person in town with troubles that seemed equal to his. Which was probably why they were drawn to each other. Misery didn’t necessarily love company, but it did appreciate knowing somebody understood.

He should stay away from her or they were going to end up in bed and, great as that sounded, she was still the enemy. Since she refused to sell McDermott’s to him, he had ramped up his efforts selling funeral packages, which would ultimately destroy her business.

When she’d left him in that parking lot this morning, he’d finally figured out that as fun as it was to tease her, as sweet as it was to think about sleeping with her, they weren’t getting out of this as friends. Acting on their red-hot attraction would only complicate things.

But, boy, would it be fun.

An hour later, he and his livery wheeled Margaret into the embalming room. Wanting to check in with his mom before getting to work, he climbed the stairs and walked past the ultramodern viewing areas, but when he reached the big window that allowed him to see the street, he stopped dead in his tracks.

There stood his dad, talking to Jeff Franklin, one of the town’s two attorneys. Bile rose in Finn’s throat. He told himself not to be paranoid that his dad was in front of his building. He and Jeff could have just run into each other and stopped to talk. But the way Jeff smiled at his dad sent disgust to Finn’s gut. His dad kept up such a wonderful charade, making everybody believe he was kind and compassionate, when the truth was so far from kind and compassionate that it sickened his stomach.

Jeff and his dad shook hands, then Jeff shuffled away, and to Finn’s horror, his dad turned and walked up the steps to his building. Before he could scramble to the front of the funeral home, his dad was already inside, sitting on the chair in front of his mother’s desk.

“Finn.”

“What are you doing here, Dad?”

Dressed in his trademark charcoal-gray suit, colored shirt, and tie that complemented it—in this case, a green shirt with green print tie—his father looked professional, yet approachable.

What a bunch of crap.

“I came to talk with you.” He rose and held out his hand to shake, as if there were nothing wrong. No years of beatings. No threats to his mother’s life. “See if the bank can’t help you through this rough time you’re having because of…” He paused to smile at Finn’s mom, who remained stony, silent. “Well, competition.”

Anger roared through Finn. Righteous indignation that heated his blood and punched his fury upward like hot lava. His father hadn’t come to help him. He’d made it look that way, so he could lure his wife into believing he’d changed. But he wasn’t here to help. He was never anywhere to help.

“Get out.”

“Finn.” His dad’s voice was tired but patient. “Can we all just stop here for a second and breathe? Your mother and I have been married a long time. You trying to break us up is wrong. I know we’ve had some issues in the past—”

“Issues? You beat the hell out of her.”

His dad smiled patiently and tugged on his earlobe. “I think your memories are a bit exaggerated.”

“Oh, really?” He caught his mom’s arm and rolled up her shirtsleeve, revealing a long, jagged scar. “Twenty-four stitches. How you got the ER to believe she slipped and fell through a sliding glass door, I’ll never know. But I saw you stab her.”

His mother’s face flushed as his dad ran his hand over his mouth. “That was years ago. Things have been better recently. Once you hellion boys moved out, we were fine.”

Just like his dad to always blame somebody else for his problems.

Still, at the moment, that wasn’t the issue. “Were things fine at home, Mom?”

She pressed her lips together. The reminder of the trip to the ER, after being stabbed, had clearly brought back a horrific memory. She shook her head and rose to stand beside Finn.

And that was all the confirmation he needed. His dad might be working to charm her, but she wasn’t buying it.

“Get out.”

Jeb marched to the door but stopped suddenly and pivoted around. “With that little McDermott girl stealing all your business, do you really want another enemy?”

“You say that as if you’re not already on my enemy list.”

With a growl, his dad walked out. When the front door of the funeral home opened and slammed shut, Finn’s mother collapsed against him.

“Thank you.”

He held her an arm’s distance away. “You don’t have to be nice to him. You don’t have to let him in here. If you tell him to leave and he won’t, you can call the police.”

Her breath hissed out. “It would ruin his reputation.”

“That’s actually the point, Mom. He’s gotten away with this because we’ve never gone public. Maybe it’s time we do?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want that. I just want to be left alone.”

He hugged her. “You’re going to have to face all this sometime.” Then, knowing he needed to change the mood and get her mind anywhere else but on his dad, he stepped out of her hold. “Hey, good news. Margaret Wojak died, and we got the funeral.”

Her eyes lit. “That is great.”

He felt a bit sleazy being glad someone had died, but Margaret had lived a long, happy life. As the Dinner Belles would say, she’d moved on to her reward.

Now it was time for him to make sure she looked good for her family and friends.

He turned to leave the room, but realized his hands were shaky fists. He stopped. He could always pretend his father didn’t affect him. That was the best way to deal with a bully. But his dad
did
affect him. Pinpricks of yearning danced along his skin, tightened his muscles, kept his hands tightly balled, reminding him that he might not have acted on his base instincts this time, but someday he was going to fight back. Probably with a punch.

And then he’d be no better than his father.

He ran his hand down his face. He couldn’t work on Margaret until he calmed down.

He sucked in a breath and faced his mom again. “Tell everybody I’ll be back in an hour.”

…

As Ellie pulled her little car in front of the funeral home, she saw Finn sitting on one of the two wide wicker rockers on the front porch.

Her face reddened, and she took her time shutting down her engine, collecting the thirty scraps of paper covered with notes from her Tidy Whitiez conversations, and getting out of her car.

What was it with this guy? Did he have radar? Did he somehow scoop her thoughts from the air and know that she’d been thinking about him?

About having sex with him?

She climbed up the porch steps. “What do you want?”

He sat forward on the big wicker chair. His short hair stuck up in all the right places, as if he’d combed his fingers through it in frustration, but that only gave it a sexy, bedroom look. He’d ditched his suit in favor of jeans and a gray T-shirt that showed off his broad shoulders and those gloriously sexy tattoos.

Her breath stumbled. Or maybe she sighed with disgust at her own weakness. Sure, he was great-looking. But did her artist’s eye have to notice every detail? Especially after her thoughts while talking to her Tidy Whitiez crew?

“Is that any way to treat a guest?”

The smart move would be to get away from him. Yes, an affair seemed logical, given how attracted she was to him and how much she needed a distraction right now. But there were other issues to consider. Particularly the fact that they were enemies, fighting for the same customers.

“You’re not a guest. You’re the competition. You stole the Wojak funeral.”

“I’d sold her a package months ago.” He glanced at the glob of sticky notes in her hands. “What’s all that?”

“The results of hours of conversation.”

“With?”

“Staffers for my adult diapers campaign.”

“You’re trying to get adult diapers elected to public office?”

Damn it. It was the struggle of a lifetime not to laugh. And maybe that was the biggest temptation of all. He didn’t just turn her on. He made her laugh.

“It’s an
ad
campaign.”

“So you’re hawking adult diapers?”

She grimaced. “Yes.”

“This is exactly why I came here.” He chuckled.

“To make fun of me?”

He shook his head. “No. To hear something that would make me laugh.”

It was one thing to joke around. It was another to insult her. “You’re laughing at my job?”

“No. I’m just laughing at the absurdity of life.”

“Great.”

No matter how he prettied it up, he was laughing at her. Despite her very rational arguments for having an affair with him, that brought her back to planet earth. She unlocked the door to McDermott’s and went inside.

He followed her. “Hey, come on. Don’t be mad.”

“Just shut up. Go home.” How had she ever thought sleeping with him would be a stress reliever, when he was the biggest producer of her stress? Especially when she’d told him to go home but he was still following her up to her apartment.

She tossed her purse on the old glass table, her gaze colliding with his broad shoulders beneath his gray shirt, and she almost groaned. He had the trimmed, toned body of a warrior. The sexily mussed hair of a man who liked to take life easy. The strong, chiseled face of a Greek god. And a voice that could melt butter. She had to forgive herself for being attracted to him. But that didn’t mean she would let him stay.

She raised her gaze to meet his. “I’m not mad. I just want you to go away.”

“After the way you just sized me up?” He grabbed her arm, spun her to him. “I think you lie.”

His lips were on hers before she could even form a reply. At first she stiffened, but the reality of her life closed in on her. It had finally sunk in that her dad wasn’t getting any better. And Finn was offering a way to forget, if only for a few minutes.

He rolled his tongue along her bottom lip and everything inside her went nuclear. Heat exploded low in her body and roared through her. This was what she wanted from him. The heat. The intensity. She didn’t just need to forget her troubles. She wanted
him
. And he wanted her.

And if only for a few minutes, she was taking what she could get. Even if that was only one long, delicious kiss. She caught the back of his neck and pulled him closer.

As if she’d taunted him or challenged him, he deepened the kiss. Gliding his tongue along her lips again, opening her mouth so he could dive inside. Sweet sensation exploded in her mouth. The scratch of his tongue. The taste of peppermint.

Desperate, needy, she pressed closer, feasting on his mouth, cruising her hands down his neck, shoulders, and arms, feeling the strength in the corded muscles, taking what she craved. Any minute now, he’d break away or she’d push away, and he’d leave in a huff…or maybe teasing her. She would be fine.
They
would be fine. She just wanted two minutes of pure pleasure.

His hands slid from her shoulders down her back, pressing in when they reached the swell of her bottom. Heat shot through her, scorching her, ramping up the needs swelling inside her.

His hands roamed up again, tracing her spine, filling her with liquid heat, but instead of stopping at her shoulders, they raced around and found her breasts. Her nipples pebbled to aching life, straining to get into his hands, but meeting the soft lace of her bra.

She groaned.

“I love this dress. Let’s take it off.”

That woke her up. Instead of stopping they were going further?

He stepped back, swiveled her around, and unzipped her dress. Before she had a chance to say stop, he turned her back to him and slid his hands under the shoulders of her simple black sheath. With one quick shove from him, it puddled to the floor.

In what felt like the blink of an eye, she stood before him in a black bra and panties, exposed, vulnerable.

He chuckled as he whipped off his T-shirt. “You’re a closet underwear junkie. I like that about you—you’re never what I expect. You’re always better.”

The word “stop” died on her tongue. “Every girl likes to be pretty.” She said the words slowly, finally understanding why he tempted her so much. He wasn’t just gorgeous. He had a way of making
her
feel beautiful. Even when they were arguing.

He put both hands on her waist and nudged her to him again. “You are the prettiest.”

“Oh, now you’re just lying.”

He skimmed his lips along her neck. “Never.”

That made her laugh out loud, then his lips nibbled behind her ear, and her laughter died. Heat flooded her and became an ache at the apex of her thighs.

Were they really going to do this?

His mouth moved from her neck to her collarbone, down the sensitive flesh above her breasts. She took one sharp breath, fully intending to push him away when his mouth closed over the lace of her bra.

Her back arched. He tugged once, then twice. Liquid warmth replaced the ache. Her knees weakened.

“I sort of like you in undies and high heels. In fact, I might start calling you High Heels just to keep the memory alive.”

Oh, Lord. Seriously. They had to stop. “There isn’t going to be a memory.”

“Oh, High Heels, that just sounds like a challenge.” With that he scooped her up and carried her down the hall. Before she could protest, he put his mouth on hers again. Deep, wet kisses took them to the door of her bedroom. He laid her on the satin bedspread she’d chosen in eleventh grade and crawled on top of her, bringing his mouth back to hers while his hands worked her bra.