Sean's Reckoning Part 22

Sean had been in an odd mood all day. Deanna glanced at him now and found that he was still wearing the same brooding expression she'd found troubling the second he'd shown up with his brother in tow.

The fact that he hadn't reacted at all to the discovery that she'd already managed to find a few pieces of furniture was especially telling. She'd expected a scathing glance at the sofa, maybe a remark about the bed, but there'd been nothing at all.

Maybe it was because his brother was with him, she concluded. She'd liked Ryan Devaney at once, even when she'd realized that he was subtly sizing her up. In fact, a part of her liked him even more for that. She thought it was great that he was looking out for his kid brother, even after all the years they'd been separated. Though the byplay between them was awkward at times, there was an unmistakable undercurrent of love and a bond that was growing stronger as time went on.

Apparently she'd won Ryan's wholehearted approval, because he'd kissed her cheek when he'd left and whispered, "Hang in there."

She still wasn't entirely certain what that had been about, but she suspected it had something to do with Sean's weird mood. He'd offered to give his brother a lift, but Ryan had turned him down flat, hitching a ride with Hank and Ruby instead.

Kevin was spending the weekend with a friend, so he hadn't been underfoot during the painting, which meant Deanna was now all alone in her new apartment with Sean.

"Thanks for helping today," she said as she gathered up empty pizza boxes and hauled them off to the trash can in the kitchen. "You want a beer or soda or something?"

"Nothing."

She came back into the living room and studied him intently. He was sprawled in an easy chair she'd found in a thrift store the day before. Even with paint spattered on his T-shirt, jeans and even on the tip of his nose and eyelashes, he made quite an enticing picture.

If only there weren't that dark scowl on his face, she thought, barely containing a sigh.

"Okay, that's it," she announced, standing over him, hands on hips. "What's going on with you? You've been acting weird all day."

He seemed vaguely startled that she was calling him on it. He straightened up and looked as if he might claim that everything was just fine, but she cut him off.

"Did something happen before you and Ryan got here?" she demanded. "I know he's been searching for Michael. Has there been some news?"

"He has a lead," he admitted.

Deanna frowned. He'd answered a little too quickly, almost as if he were relieved that she'd asked about the search for his family. "That's good news, right?"

"Yeah, of course it is," he said, though without much enthusiasm. "I'm going to see if a friend in the department can help us follow up on it."

"So it's not that," she concluded. "Come on, Sean. Talk to me. I thought we were friends."

To her shock, his expression turned even darker. "Yeah, that was the plan, all right."

Her heart began to thud dully. She ran a mental movie of everything that had gone on while they were painting, but nothing out of the ordinary struck her. "And something's happened today to change that?" she probed. "Did I do something to upset you?"

The corners of his mouth twitched. "You could say that, though probably not in the way you mean."

"Tell me."

He faced her with an anguished expression. "Okay, since you asked and I don't want to lie to you, here it is. I'm in love with you."

Something that felt a whole lot like heady exhilaration swept through her. Still, she noticed that he didn't look all that happy about the discovery that his feelings ran that deep.

"But?" she asked cautiously.

His gaze held hers. "That's it. I know you aren't interested in having a relationship, and I'm not convinced I'm any good at them, and here I go changing the rules."

Despite his somber tone, she couldn't contain the rush of pure joy. Until she'd heard the words leave his lips, she hadn't realized just how desperately she'd been wanting to hear them. She laughed and launched herself into his arms. "It's about time, Sean Devaney. The wait was getting on my nerves."

He caught her and clasped her to his chest, then leaned back to scan her face. "You're not furious?"

She was almost as stunned by that as he seemed to be, but there it was. She was ecstatic, not angry.

"Furious?" she echoed, not even attempting to disguise her own amazement. "I guess not." To prove it, she kissed him, not pulling back until their breathing was ragged.

A grin tugged at his lips. "Do you have any idea how much I want to make love to you, Deanna Blackwell?"

She wriggled against him. "As a matter of fact I think I do," she teased.

"Well?"

"The bed's made. There's n.o.body around to interrupt. I'd say we have all the time in the world."

Sean's expression turned serious. He reached out with fingers that trembled slightly and brushed a stray curl away from her cheek. "You're absolutely certain this is something you want?"

She touched a finger to his lips. "Not if you intend to talk it to death."

He laughed. "No more talking?"

"Nope. I think all the important stuff has already been said."

"Not all of it," he said. "You haven't said how you feel about me, about us."

"Haven't I? I thought I had," she said, kissing him thoroughly. "Not clear enough? I love you, Sean Devaney. I never thought I would say that to another person, but it's true. Not even I I could be stubborn enough to go on denying it, when it's staring me in the face. I love you." could be stubborn enough to go on denying it, when it's staring me in the face. I love you."

His expression brightened. Before she could guess what he had in mind, he rose to his feet, still holding her in his arms, and headed for the freshly painted bedroom. At the doorway he hesitated.

"Shower first," he said. "Of course, I won't have any fresh clothes to change into afterward."

Deanna grinned. "I don't think clothes are going to be a necessity for the rest of the night."

"You going to join me in the shower? Or do you want to go first?"

Normally she would have wanted to go first, maybe use the time to steady her nerves before she took this next step, but right this moment she couldn't imagine being separated from him even for a second. Despite his claim to love her, there was still a chance he could change his mind about making love. Obviously, he knew, as she did, that they were about to cross a line from which there would be no turning back.

"I'll scrub your back if you'll scrub mine," she said lightly.

His eyes darkened. "Deal," he said, his voice suddenly hoa.r.s.e.

The bathroom was fairly large, with an old-fashioned claw-footed tub with a showerhead installed above. The tile floor was cool beneath her bare feet. Deanna suddenly shivered, overcome with an attack of jitters.

Sean studied her. "Change your mind?"

"No," she said staunchly. But the transition from fully clothed to buck naked intimidated her.

Sean seemed to guess what was going on in her head. Eyes locked with hers, he reached for the faucets and turned on the water, then faced her and reached for the hem of her T-shirt. Ever so slowly, his gaze never leaving her face, he lifted it over her head.

Then he skimmed his knuckles across her bare skin, avoiding her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, on his way to releasing the snap on her cutoff jeans. A leisurely push had the shorts skimming over her hips and sliding down her legs.

Then she was standing before him in bra and panties, watching the desire darken his eyes. He kicked off his sneakers, then shucked his T-shirt and jeans and stood before her in briefs that did nothing to conceal the full state of his arousal. A smile played across his mouth.

"If it would help, we could jump in like this, pretend we're going swimming," he suggested.

One tiny part of Deanna wanted to do just that. In fact, there was something amazingly provocative about imagining how they would look with damp cloth clinging to her curves and the evidence of his desire. Another part of her cried out at being a coward. If this was what she wanted-and it was-then there shouldn't be anything halfway about it. And there shouldn't be any hesitation or embarra.s.sment.

Because she couldn't seem to summon a single word, instead she reached down and unclasped the hook on her bra and let it fall away. Sean sucked in a sharp breath as his gaze fell to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He reached out and with one finger, slowly circled first one tip, then the other. The gesture was enough to send heat spiraling through her.

Then his hands slipped past the elastic waistband of her panties and slid them off. It was no more than a quick, skimming touch and yet she was shuddering with need somewhere deep inside.

Sean saw her reaction and when she reached for his briefs, he caught her hands. "Something tells me I'd better do this myself if we're actually going to get a shower."

She grinned at the admission that he was as close to the edge as she was. It made her feel something she hadn't felt in a very long time. It made her feel desirable. For too many years now, she'd concentrated on being a mother. She'd forgotten how to be a woman.

Finally undressed, Sean held out his hand and helped her into the tub, then stepped in to face her. Keeping his gaze focused on hers, he picked up the soap and began to lather it all over her with quick, slippery pa.s.ses that tried to avoid being provocative. Deanna almost laughed at the concentration knitting his brow. She could have told him all that restraint was wasted. Every place he touched was on fire. Her heart was pounding as if she'd just run a marathon.

"My turn," she said, stealing the soap and using it to work up a creamy lather which she spread slowly across his solid chest. The white foam against bronzed skin made her want to linger there, but there was so much more of him to explore-broad shoulders, muscled legs, a powerful back and tight b.u.t.t. She could feel his skin heat beneath her touch, felt the tension in his muscles.

"Enough," he whispered, his voice tight.

He turned around and drew her against him, slick skin against slippery heat. His arms loosely circling her waist, he moved slightly until the shower was cascading over them, the water in the old pipes turning cool, but not cold enough to temper the fire burning inside them both.

When they'd been rinsed clean, he shut off the water, reached for a towel and rubbed her skin until it glowed. He barely made a pa.s.s with a towel to dry himself before scooping her into his arms and heading for the bedroom.

By then Deanna was restless with wanting, desperate to feel him deep inside her.

Sean apparently felt the same urgency, because he hesitated above her for no more than a heartbeat, gazing deep into her eyes as he slowly entered her, stilled and sighed with obvious contentment.

But being together wasn't enough, not for long. Sean began to move, the strokes slow and leisurely at first, then deeper and more intense. Deanna's hips rose off the bed to meet him, desperately seeking a release that remained just beyond reach. The rhythm teased and tormented, promising so much but holding back until Deanna was about to scream.

Just then Sean's fingers glided intimately over her, sending shock waves ripping through her. The scream came then, but Sean's mouth covered hers, capturing the sound as he held her tight. Then he was moving again, carrying her beyond where she'd thought she was capable of going, until together they fell off the ends of the earth.

Chapter Fifteen.

In Sean's past, the morning after making love with a woman had always meant a hurried escape to safer emotional waters. Even on those rare occasions when he'd lingered for breakfast, he'd been careful to retreat to more neutral turf. He'd done his best not to give confusing signals that might suggest that the night before had been a prelude to forever.

This morning he awoke to the discovery that he was exactly where he wanted to be, where he intended intended to be, for the rest of his life-in bed with Deanna curled next to him, her breath fanning across his bare chest. to be, for the rest of his life-in bed with Deanna curled next to him, her breath fanning across his bare chest.

Even as he made that mental admission, he waited for the panic to follow. He expected some sort of fight-or-flight instinct to kick in that would have him bolting for the door. Instead, there was...an unbelievable sense of inner peace. Genuine contentment stole through him.

Gazing down at soft-as-satin cheeks still flushed from the last time they'd made love, he felt a smile curving his lips. He could do this. With Deanna he could face the future with the kind of faith that commitment required. He couldn't imagine a time when he wouldn't want to wake up next to her, when he wouldn't want to play ball with Kevin, maybe even hold a baby of their own.

There it was, he thought, as the first hint of antic.i.p.ated panic crept in at the thought of babies. That That was the image destined to send a little tremor of fear racing through him. His pulse raced and his stomach knotted. was the image destined to send a little tremor of fear racing through him. His pulse raced and his stomach knotted.

A baby, for heaven's sake. What was he thinking? What did he know about babies? The last time he'd spent any extended time around babies, he'd been a kid himself. He remembered the twins' homecoming from the hospital, how he and Ryan had held them as if they might break, excited by the prospect of having two more brothers.

Unfortunately, that thrill hadn't lasted. He remembered that the twins had cried more, been more difficult to pacify than Michael. One cranky baby would have been stressful enough. Two caused sleepless nights and frayed tempers. He remembered the strain on his mother's face, the impatient complaints from his father that escalated into shouting matches that often sent him, Ryan and Michael running from the house to hide until the furor was over. He remembered feeling scared and, worse, resentful of the two tiny beings who'd come into their midst and ruined everything.

What the h.e.l.l was he doing, thinking about having a baby with Deanna or with anyone else? How many times had he wished back then that the twins had never been born? Now guilt and anguish welled up inside him at the hateful thoughts he'd once harbored for those two innocent boys. How could he have been so selfish? he reproached himself.

With the long-forgotten memories flooding in, he wondered how he could have buried all of that for so long. Obviously he'd buried it as deep as the fear that those childish wishes had been the cause of his parents taking the twins and leaving.

He wasn't aware that tears were sliding down his cheeks until he felt Deanna hesitantly touch the dampness, her expression worried.

"Sean, what is it? What's wrong?"

He shoved her hand aside and swiped impatiently at the telling tears, embarra.s.sed at having been caught crying. "Nothing," he said brusquely.

She laid her hand over his. "Don't try to tell me that. I don't believe you."

Her steady look told him she had no intention of letting him off the hook. He took a deep breath and forced himself to admit at least part of what had reduced him to tears. "I just slammed headfirst into a slew of old memories."

"Not very pleasant ones, I gather."

He shook his head.

She smoothed her hand over the stubble on his cheek. "Tell me."

Her tone was gentle, but it was a command. He knew her well enough to see that. She wasn't going to rest until he'd spilled his guts to her. What would she think of him then? Maybe, despite what she'd said last night, she would be the one who'd flee from the relationship.

With a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, he began slowly, describing the upheaval the twins' arrival had caused in his family. As he described how the situation had worsened month by month, Deanna nodded, her expression filled with understanding and compa.s.sion, not the disgust he'd feared.

"I wanted them to go away," he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he admitted the shameful sentiment.

"Oh, Sean." She didn't seem shocked or appalled, just very sad. "Don't you imagine that's exactly how every sibling feels when a new baby brother or sister comes home from the hospital? You had two brothers thrust on you all at once. Worse, they weren't easy babies."

"But Ryan didn't resent me. Neither of us felt that way about Michael."

"Do you really remember that clearly? You were only two when Michael was born," she reminded him.

"I remember..." he insisted, not ready to let himself off the hook "...as clearly as I remember the tension that began the second Patrick and Daniel came home from the hospital."

Deanna didn't seem entirely convinced, but she said, "You mentioned the twins were difficult babies, and they caused problems between your parents. It was natural for you to be afraid that your world was about to be disrupted. Just look at what happened-your family was torn apart. Maybe that was because of the twins or maybe it was something else, but the bottom line is, your fears had some basis in reality."

"That's no excuse," he said, refusing to let himself off the hook. "They were babies. What kind of man blames a baby for anything?"

She laughed then and pressed a kiss against his lips. He was so surprised by the reaction, he didn't move, didn't even automatically deepen the kiss as he might have another time.

"Sean, you weren't a man," she reminded him. "You were a six-year-old boy, younger than that when they first came into your life. I'm sure there are plenty of other things you did at that age that you would never consider doing now."

He started to argue, then slowly grasped the wisdom in her words. She was right. He was blaming himself for things that had been far beyond his control. Whatever had happened back then, it was because of decisions the adults had made, not anything he or Ryan or even Michael or the twins had done. The blame, if there was any, belonged with their parents. It had been up to them to cope with the disruptions, to rea.s.sure their sons, not to simply take off when things got to be too difficult.