A Touch of Persuasion. Janice Maynard

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СКАЧАТЬ from Europe. But that’s all it will be. All it will ever be. And if you break your word to me, I’ll take her away and never speak to you again.”

      His lips quirked in a half smile. “Mama Bear protecting her cub. I like seeing you in this maternal role, Olivia. It suits you.”

      She gathered her purse and the light sweater she’d brought with her. “No one and nothing in this world means more to me than Cammie. And you’d do well to remember that. Good night, Kieran. Pleasant dreams.”

      He followed her to the door, having the temerity to press another hard kiss to her lips before allowing her to leave. “I’ll dream,” he said, brushing her cheek with the back of a hand. “But I have a feeling that pleasant won’t be the right word for it.”

      Four

      Kieran had never liked waiting. The ten days that elapsed between his confrontation with Olivia and her arrival at Wolff Mountain were interminable. Every moment of every day he imagined a dozen excuses she could make to keep from showing up.

      As an adolescent he’d imagined the walls of the monstrous house closing in on him, as if he were trapped in a castle dungeon. Even now, his homecoming was tainted with confusion. Mostly he felt the agitation of being stuck in one place. He liked the freedom of the open road.

      But if he were honest with himself, he had to admit that Wolff Mountain drew him home time and again despite his conflicted feelings about its past… his past.

      Having his brothers close went a long way toward passing the time. They shared meals at the “big house,” and Kieran was introduced to Gracie, Gareth’s new wife. Kieran’s older brother was happier than Kieran had seen him in years, and it was clear that he adored his bride.

      In the mornings, Kieran hiked the mountain trails with Gareth, and after lunch every day, he helped Jacob add on a new room to the doc’s already state-of-the-art clinic. Kieran welcomed the physical exertion. Only by pushing himself to the point of exhaustion was he able to sleep at night. And even then he dreamed… God, he dreamed.

      Olivia… in his bed, beneath him, her fabulous mane of hair spread across the pillows like a river of molten chocolate shot with gold. Her honey smooth skin bare-ass naked, waiting for him to touch every inch of it with his lips, his tongue, his ragged breath… He’d dreamed of her before… At least in the beginning. When he first lost her. But the pain of doing so had ultimately led him to pretend she didn’t exist. It was the only way he had survived.

      But now, knowing that he and Olivia would soon be sharing a roof, the chains he’d used to bind up his memories shattered. He’d taken more cold showers in the past week than he had as a hormone-driven teen. And in the darkest hours of the night, he wondered with no small amount of guilt if he was using his own daughter as leverage to spend more time with the woman he’d never been able to forget.

      Olivia wasn’t coming here to be his lover. She’d made that crystal clear. Her single concession was to allow Cammie a visit. And that was only because Kieran threatened court proceedings.

      He still felt bad about that, but Olivia’s stubbornness infuriated him. Why couldn’t she just admit that in the short time they were together, they created a life? He knew the truth in his gut, but he needed Olivia to be honest… to tell him face-to-face. Until he heard her say the words out loud, he wouldn’t be satisfied.

      With Cammie as his child, everything changed. It meant that when he was laboring in some godforsaken corner of the world, he could dream about returning home to someone who was his, a child who would love him and hug his neck.

      Kieran’s family loved him, but coming home to Wolff Mountain was painful. So painful, in fact, that he made it back to the States only a couple of times a year. No matter how hard he tried, the memories of his mother, though vague and indistinct, permeated the air here. And those same memories reminded him of how helpless he had felt when she died.

      Seeing his father and uncle and brothers and cousins crying had left an indelible mark on an impressionable four-year-old. Until then, he’d believed that men never cried, especially not his big, gruff daddy. Kieran had been confused, and fearful, and so desperate to make everything better.

      The day of the funeral he pretended to take a nap while the adults were gone. While the nanny was on the phone with her boyfriend, Kieran slipped into his mother’s bedroom and ransacked the large walk-in closet that housed her clothes. He tugged at the hems of blouses and dresses and evening gowns, ripping them from the hangers and piling them up haphazardly until he had a small mountain.

      The fabrics smelled like her. With tears streaming down his face, he climbed atop his makeshift bed, curled into a ball of misery and fell asleep, his thumb tucked in his mouth.

      Kieran inhaled sharply, realizing that he had allowed himself the bittersweet, two-edged sword of memory. That’s why he came home so seldom. In another hemisphere he could pretend that his life was normal. That it had always been normal.

      Returning to Wolff Mountain always pulled the Band-Aid off a wound that had never healed cleanly. He remembered being discovered on that terrible funeral day and escorted out of his parents’ bedroom. No one chastised him. No one took him to task for what he had done. But three days later when he worked up the courage to once again sneak into his mother’s closet, every trace of her was gone… as if she had never existed. Even the hangers had been removed.

      That day he’d cried again, huddled in a ball in the corner of the bare closet. And this time, there was no comfort to be found. His world had shredded around him, leaving nothing but uncertainty and bleakness. He hated the stomach-hollowing feelings and the sensation of doom.

      No child should ever have to feel abandoned, and sadly, Kieran and his brothers had been emotional orphans when their father fell apart in the wake of Laura Wolff’s death. It took Victor Wolff literally years to recover, and by then, the damage was done. The boys loved their father, but they had become closed off to softer emotions.

      Kieran cursed and kicked at a pile of loose gravel in the driveway. Was Cammie his daughter? A tiny shred of doubt remained. He found it almost impossible to believe that Olivia had gone from his bed to another man’s so quickly. But he had hurt her badly… and she might have done it out of spite.

      The girl in the photograph at Olivia’s house looked like a Wolff, though that might be wishful thinking on Kieran’s part. And as for the Kevin Wade on the birth certificate, well… Olivia might have done that to preserve her privacy. Using the name of a man who didn’t exist to protect her rights as a mother.

      But God help him, if Olivia had lied… if she had kept him from his own flesh and blood, there was going to be hell to pay.

      His cell phone beeped with a text from the front gate guard at the foot of the mountain. Olivia’s car had arrived.

      She had flatly refused Wolff transportation, either the private jet or a ride from the airport. Her independence made a statement that said Kieran was unnecessary. It would be his pleasure to show her how wrong she was.

      When a modest rental vehicle pulled into sight, he felt his heart race, not only at the prospect of seeing Olivia, but at the realization that he might be, for the first time, coming face-to-face with his progeny.

      The car slid to a halt and Olivia stepped out. Before she could come around and help with the passenger door, it was flung open from the inside, and a small, slender girl hopped into view. She had brown hair pulled back into pigtails and wore a wary expression СКАЧАТЬ