Reunited (12 page)

He didn't give her a chance to answer. Instead, he hooked her legs over his shoulders, bent lower and took his first taste. The touch of his tongue sent shock waves through her body, causing her to cry out in surprise. Keely was sure anyone looking in the window would know what they were doing. But she didn't care. The sensation of his mouth on her sex was devastating, crumbling the last of her inhibitions.

Again and again he penetrated her with his tongue, then withdrew to tease and suck. She wasn't sure when she lost the ability to think clearly, or when reason was replaced by desperate gasps and soft moans. But suddenly the sensations intensified and her mind cleared. Her need for release grew more acute, the tension setting her nerves on edge, every flick of his tongue nearly unbearable. Keely wanted to make it last, but the only way to do that was to make Rafe stop. And making him stop was beyond her capability. She was so close...he was so good...so--

It hit her quickly, the tension snapping like a taut rubber band. One moment, she was on her way there, and then her need exploded in a powerful orgasm. Keely cried out, her arms collapsing beneath her. Spasms rocked her body, but he didn't stop. He took the last ounce of her release, bringing her down slowly, giving her a chance to recover.

Rafe was ready to begin all over again, but Keely sat up, then raked her hands through his hair and drew him away. He knew what she wanted the moment he looked up at her. He straightened and, without a word, pulled her off the counter and wrapped her legs around his waist, carrying her toward the door.

As they passed the window they both looked out and noticed a few figures in the apartments across the street watching them. Keely felt a blush warm her cheeks and she buried her face in the curve of his neck.

Rafe chuckled softly. "I think we gave them a good show, don't you?"

He took her to the bedroom and slowly undressed her in front of windows that overlooked the harbor. When he'd stripped off his own clothes, he joined her in bed and they made love, slowly, gently, until they both shared their release, two bodies arching against each other, two strangers giving in to an attraction that couldn't be denied anymore.

H
OURS LATER
, they were still awake, talking softly across a pillow. Rafe toyed with the necklace she always wore, rubbing the pendant between his fingers as he stared into her golden-green eyes. He was surprised at how easy it was to open his soul to her. They talked about everything and nothing, the subject of their conversation of no consequence. It was enough just to listen to the sound of her voice, to see her smile at a joke or to hear her laugh. "So tell me, Keely McClain. What's the real reason you came to Boston?"

She pushed up on her elbow, reaching over to brush a lock of hair from his eyes. "I told you. I wanted a new start."

"Is that all?"

"No," Keely said. "There is another reason, but I'm not sure I should talk about it."

"Secrets should be nothing after what we just shared," Rafe teased.

She hesitated for a moment. "Well, it would be nice to talk to someone about it."

He had wanted to believe that she'd come back to see him, but that was wishful thinking. Now that he knew the reason she'd given him earlier was false, his curiosity was piqued. "Tell me."

"I'm here to find my real family."

"Your family? Aren't they in New York?"

"My mother is. But my father and my brothers are here in Boston. My parents separated when I was just a baby and I never knew my father or my siblings. We're kind of alike that way. We both lost our fathers early on."

But Keely's father was still alive. And he hadn't bothered to go into the truth behind his own father's death.

"So you're working at the bar until you find them?"

"Oh, no, I've already found them," Keely said. "I just haven't introduced myself yet. That's why I'm working at the bar." She rubbed a hand over her eyes and then yawned into her palm.

Rafe started to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. "You're working at Quinn's Pub."

Keely nodded and nestled into his body. She closed her eyes and sighed softly. "Seamus Quinn is my father. And his sons are my brothers."

Rafe froze, afraid she might sense his reaction. He kept his voice quiet and indifferent. "So your name isn't Keely McClain. It's Keely Quinn."

"Umm. Keely Quinn," she murmured drowsily.

He closed his eyes and cursed inwardly, rage surging up inside of him. Christ, this couldn't be happening to him. He'd been planning his revenge for months and everything had been set in motion just a few days ago. He couldn't stop now. Seamus Quinn had murdered his father and he'd have to pay!

But Seamus wouldn't be the only one to pay. Keely would barely meet her father before he'd be carted off to prison where he'd spend the rest of his life. Rafe turned to gaze into her face. She'd fallen asleep, her lashes dark against her pale skin, her lips still swollen from his kisses.

He'd kept the details of his father's death from her for a reason--he didn't want her to hear the anger in his voice, to catch a glimpse of his dark purpose. But how could he possibly continue, all the while knowing how she'd feel once she learned the truth? But wasn't that all part of the plan, for the Quinns to know exactly who had done this to their family and why?

Keely was a Quinn. And, with the exception of his mother, she was also the first woman he'd ever cared about. Rafe carefully slipped out of bed and walked to the windows. Streetlights still twinkled around Boston Harbor as the deep-blue sky gave way to blazing orange and pink. He pressed his palms against the cold glass as he tried to bring order to the chaos raging in his head.

He had thought finding Keely again had been an incredible stroke of luck. But now, after her rather startling revelation, Rafe could only wonder if falling into bed with her was poetic justice. He'd just made love to the daughter of his father's killer. And now he felt himself wavering in his resolve to destroy Seamus Quinn.

He'd lived with this anger for so long, his need to set things right consuming his life lately. How could he put it aside? The truth had to be told and the guilty had to pay. But that had been easy to justify when Seamus was nothing more than the shadowy figure behind Sam Kendrick's death. Now, he was a father with a daughter who wanted nothing more than a future with him.

Even if Rafe wanted to stop it all, he couldn't do it without making it look like he was covering up a crime. And it wasn't as if he'd fabricated evidence. Everything he was doing was legal and aboveboard. He had a witness who had a story to tell. So why not leave it up to the law? If Seamus wasn't responsible, then he'd be exonerated. If he was, then he'd serve his time.

Rafe turned and looked at Keely, curled up in his bed, the sheets twisted around her slender body. She looked so naive, so innocent, her hand splayed over his pillow--such a stark contrast to the woman who had driven him mad with lust just hours before. He'd come to crave that contrast, the sexy siren trapped inside an innocent's body.

But how much longer could she possibly want him? How much time did he have to make her want him more than she wanted her own family?

K
EELY WOKE UP
slowly, stretching beneath the fine cotton sheets and squinting against the bright morning light. She saw the outline of a tall, broad-shouldered figure standing at the window and smiled. Rafe. As her eyes adjusted to the light, he came into focus. He was naked, his smooth skin burnished by the glare of the sun.

Keely snuggled into her pillow and relished the chance to appreciate his body--the sculpted arms and muscular back, the narrow waist, long legs, a study in masculine perfection. He seemed to wear that perfection in such a casual way, as if he didn't know--or didn't care--about the effect his body had on a woman's libido.

Keely ran her hands through her tangled hair. "Good morning."

He turned around, startled by her voice. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

Keely sat up and stretched her arms over her head, the sheet dropping away from her breasts. But she made no move to cover up. With him, she felt more comfortable naked, more aware of her sexuality and the power it gave her. "Fine. How about you?"

"Great," Rafe said.

Her gaze wandered down his body, following the fine dusting of hair that began at his collarbone and ended below his belly. A tiny shiver raced through her as she thought of him in full arousal. "You look so handsome standing there in that light. If I had some paper, I'd draw you just like that."

"You draw?"

Keely nodded. Though they knew each other's bodies by heart, knew exactly how to make the other moan with pleasure, they were still learning the basics. She felt as if she knew him intimately, yet didn't really know him at all. "I have an art degree. I used to paint. But I really liked sculpting more. I could do you in bronze."

"That might be interesting."

"I always enjoyed drawing nudes," she continued. "For a nice Catholic girl who went to an all-girls high school, art school drawing class was an eye-opening experience. I'd only been with one boy and I'd never actually seen, you know...the equipment."

His eyebrow arched. "And why was that?"

"We were afraid to turn on the lights. Lord, I wasn't sure what I'd see, but I knew I'd probably be struck blind from seeing it." Keely grinned and covered her eyes. "Maybe you better put some clothes on. I've grown rather fond of my eyesight."

Instead, Rafe climbed back into bed, stretching out beside her and pulling her against his body, becoming aroused almost immediately. His expression was serious, his gaze intense. "Who are you, Keely McClain? And why are you doing these things to me?"

Keely stared at him. He was in a strange mood this morning, quiet and reserved, as if he had something on his mind. "
What
am I doing to you, Rafe?"

"I'm not sure. But it feels pretty good."

Keely gently stroked his face, her fingertips running over the stubble on his jawline. "I don't know what this is, Rafe. I don't know if it will end tomorrow or if it will last forever. So maybe we should just let it happen and see where it goes. And if it doesn't work, no regrets. On either side."

"That sounds like a good plan," Rafe said. Suddenly, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her beneath him. "Let's take a trip. It's Christmas--we should be doing something special. We can leave today. We'll buy a couple of tickets to somewhere and just take off. We can go to Hawaii or Paris or London. You choose. Someplace far away from here."

His offer sounded so tempting. A week in a hotel room with Rafe Kendrick was every woman's fantasy. "I can't," Keely said. "I have to work. The pub opens at five tonight and I'm scheduled. I signed up to work around Christmas because I wanted to be with my family."

"Come on," Rafe said. "How could you possibly choose that smoky, smelly pub over a pristine beach on Maui? Or a sidewalk cafe in Paris? Or a cozy hotel room in London? What's to think about?"

"You know why I have to stay," she said. "I need to tell my family who I am. And I need to find just the right time to do that. And I won't find it if I'm sunning myself on some beach in Hawaii."

Rafe pressed his forehead against hers. "I'm not sure I want to let you go. The last time I did, you disappeared."

She reached up and touched his lips with her fingertips. "Why don't I come back here tonight after work and we'll have a late dinner? This time I'll cook."

"Are you a good cook?"

"Better than you," she teased. "You lack focus. That's what it takes to make a good omelette. You can't get distracted by more...exotic tastes."

"And what should we do until it's time for you to go to work?" he asked, nuzzling her neck.

"You know what would be fun? Let's get up and get dressed and go to church. It's Christmas morning. I always go to Christmas services. And I missed midnight mass last night."

"You really want to go to church?"

"After all the sinning we did last night, I think we should. We can stop at my place and I can change. And after church we'll go for coffee. And you know what else I'd like to do? I'd like to go ice-skating. Or maybe take a carriage ride. Or we could go for a nice long walk and window-shop. That would be the perfect Christmas."

"All right," Rafe said grudgingly. "But first I want the perfect shower. Care to join me?"

Keely smiled. "I will in a minute. I really need to call my mother. Can I use the phone?"

Rafe kissed her on the tip of her nose, then crawled out of bed. "I'll be waiting for you."

He walked toward the bathroom while Keely stayed in bed and admired the view. When she heard him turn on the shower, she rolled over and grabbed the phone from the bedside table, then punched in her mother's phone number. Fiona picked up after two rings.

"Hi, Ma. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart. I've been worried about you. You didn't call last night. I thought maybe you'd decided to come home after all. I tried your room at the bed-and-breakfast last night at nine, but they said you hadn't returned. I was afraid to call them after ten. I didn't want to disturb them so late at night. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Did you go to midnight mass?"

"No, but I'm going to church this morning with a friend."

"You have a friend in Boston?"

"Yes. Just one. But he's very nice."

"He?"

"I have news," Keely said, deftly changing the subject. "Brendan is engaged. He brought her to the pub last night and made the announcement. Her name is Amy Aldrich and she seems so nice, very pretty. And they look so happy together. My father didn't seem too pleased, but everyone else was. I wish you could have been there, Ma. With Conor married and the other two engaged, you should have grandchildren before too long."

Her mother was silent for a long time before she spoke. "When are you coming home?"

"Maybe a couple of weeks. I really plan to tell them soon. And I'm pretty sure they'll be all right with it. They're all so sweet to me, Ma. I wish you could know them. Maybe next Christmas, we can all be together."

"Maybe," Fiona said.

"Keely! Get your pretty little ass in here!"

Keely winced, but luckily her mother hadn't heard the command. "I have to go. I'm working tonight at five, so I'll call you from the pub when I get a chance. Maybe I'll get one of the boys to say hello."

"Oh, Keely, I would love that," her mother said, tears evident in her voice. "I--I'll talk to you later. Merry Christmas, darling."

"Bye, Ma." Keely returned the phone to the beside table. She sighed softly, then rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

"Keely!"

With a giggle, she jumped out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Like the kitchen, it was a marvel of technology, with a huge whirlpool tub and a shower stall made for two. She peered around the corner of the shower's glass-block wall and found a naked Rafe, fully aroused, his body slick with soap and water. "You know, I'm really not a shower girl. I prefer baths."

Rafe took a step toward her. His hand shot out and grabbed her arm. He yanked her into the shower and pulled her beneath the rushing water, then kissed her thoroughly.

"I'm going to teach you to love showers," he said with a low growl.

R
AFE SAT
on the park bench on Boston Common, his cashmere overcoat open to the warmth of the noonday sun. He watched the skaters glide around in a circle on Frog Pond, remembering Christmas Day and the time he'd spent skating with Keely. If someone had told him he'd pass an afternoon wobbling around a frozen pond on skates, he would have called them a fool. But he'd actually had fun. By the end of the day, he had even become a passable skater.

He and Keely had shared so much in the past five days. But, above all, everything they'd done had been fun--from the uninhibited sex to the quiet dinners over a bottle of wine to their walks along the Charles. Rafe had never put much stock in "fun," but he had to admit that it added a new dimension to his life. He'd smiled more in the past week than he had in the entire year. In the annals of his affairs with women, Rafe knew that Keely would rank as his favorite. She was sweet and understanding out of bed, and wild and passionate between the sheets. And there was something about that contrast that he found completely captivating. Other women had tried to cultivate such an image, but with Keely it was real.

Still, a dark cloud continued to hang over them. Keely wasn't just any woman he'd brought to his bed--she was a Quinn. The daughter of his father's murderer. And he should be spending his time working up a decent case of disgust for his behavior with her, instead of wondering what new adventure they'd share in his bedroom that night.

So he enjoyed her body. Like she'd said, they had no claims on each other, no strings. It was purely a sexual thing and, before long, the desire would fade and they'd both move on.

"You have nothing to feel guilty about," he muttered to himself. Rafe cursed softly. He had to watch himself. There were times when he was starting to feel like a first-class sap, thinking about Keely at all hours, wondering what she was doing, who she was talking to, whether she was thinking about him. Though Rafe was quite certain he wasn't in love, he still couldn't define exactly what he was feeling. He liked Keely. She was beautiful and sexy and intriguing and he enjoyed spending time with her.

Hell, he'd always had a one-month maximum with women, averaging two dates a week and five decent nights in bed before boredom set in. He quickly tallied up his time with Keely and was surprised to find that he'd already surpassed his normal mark.

"Hey! Are you Sam Kendrick's kid?"

Rafe looked up, startled out of his thoughts. An older man stood in front of him wearing a battered jacket and faded blue jeans. Time had not been kind to Ken Yaeger. His face was deeply lined and his thinning hair was unkempt and his teeth were badly in need of a dentist. "I am."

Yaeger flopped down next to him on the bench and rubbed his hands together. "Why the hell did we have to meet here? This town is filled with heated taverns and decent whiskey. I spent enough of my life out in the cold--I don't need to spend more." He reached inside of his jacket pocket and pulled out a flask, then offered it to Rafe. "Care for a nip?"

Rafe pushed the flask away, shaking his head. "How did it go?"

Yaeger shrugged. "They were pretty interested in what I had to say. Asked why I was coming forward and I gave them some shit about my conscience. I wrote it all down for them and they told me they'd be calling me. They gotta figure out who's in charge."

"You didn't go in there drunk, did you?"

"What difference does it make? It doesn't change the truth."

"I want to hear it," Rafe demanded. "The whole story. Exactly the way you told it to the police."

Yaeger gathered his thoughts for a moment, took another swig from the flask, then cleared his throat. "Well, ya see, I'd been working on the crew of the
Mighty Quinn
for about three years. Seamus was looking for a sixth to make one last run out to the Grand Banks before the winter set in. Sam Kendrick and I knew each other from Gloucester and I knew he was looking for work. The boat he usually fished from didn't make late-season runs. And since your ma was...well, you know...sickly, Sam wasn't planning to head south that winter. So he signed on with Seamus Quinn for one run." Yaeger paused and gave Rafe a toothless smile. "Your dad was a good guy. He could have captained his own boat if he'd had the scratch to buy a rig."

"He was planning to buy a boat," Rafe said. "He and my mother were saving."

"We'd been out for two weeks and the hold was about half-full. Then the weather reports started coming in. Seamus wanted to ride out the storm and continue fishing. Your dad wanted to head in. But Seamus's word was final. Still, Sam kept at him and the weather kept getting worse and pretty soon everyone wanted to go in. Something felt bad about this run and we all knew if we didn't get off the water, we'd end up under it. It spooked us. Pretty soon, it was us against Seamus."

"A mutiny?" Rafe asked.

"About as close as you could come. Your dad was out on deck, securing all the gear so the waves wouldn't wash it away. I was up in the wheelhouse. Seamus went out and they started yelling at each other. Sam threw a punch and caught Seamus on the chin. Seamus hit Sam in the stomach. Sam threw another cross and lost his balance on the slippery deck. Then Seamus went for him. He shoved him hard and Sam went over the side. It was black out and the storm was coming up fast. We tried to find him, but by the time we did, it was too late. That water's so cold. A guy can only last maybe ten, fifteen minutes before he's a goner." Yaeger shuddered, then took another swallow from the flask. "I remember what he looked like when we finally found him and fished him out. That image just doesn't leave a guy."

Rafe stared down at his hands, feeling anger surge up inside him, and his determination doubled. Seamus Quinn was going to pay. "Why didn't you tell the truth back then?"

"Seamus convinced us to make it appear as if he got pulled over by the line. We tore up his slicker a little bit to make it look like that's what got caught. That way he would have been killed while he was working and your ma could collect more insurance. If Sam was even partially to blame for his own death, she'd get less. And he was the one who threw the first punch. He was the one talking mutiny."