Her Mr. Right? Page 12

  She reached for him in the same hungry way, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her body straining toward his, her soft sounds of pleasure giving him all the permission he needed to take the kiss deeper, make it hotter and wetter. The steering wheel was in his way and the last thing he wanted to do was dig his elbow into the horn.

  He broke away from her and leaned his forehead against hers. “Let’s move into the backseat. We’ll have more room.”

  She stilled. “Neil, I don’t know if I want to—”

  “I just want to hold you without wrecking the GPS or alerting the whole neighborhood we’re here by hitting the horn.”

  After a long moment, she whispered, “Okay.”

  After they’d moved to the backseat, he gathered her into his arms for a long hug. He kissed her temple and ran his hand through her hair. “This isn’t about me wanting sex again. It’s about me wanting you.”

  She turned her head into his neck and her breath was warm against his skin when she said, “I’m scared, Neil. We could be over in a blink of an eye.”

  “Do you want to go in?” He wasn’t going to coax her into something she wasn’t sure about, no matter how much his body tried to persuade him otherwise.

  “Can we just stay here like this for a little while?”

  Holding her and breathing her in was better than leaving her at her door. It was better than going back to that lonely bed at the Inn…better than erotic dreams that left him sweating and needing, with his arms empty.

  “I’ll hold you for as long as you want me to.” Tonight, Isobel needed him in just this way. His needs would just have to be put on hold until she decided whether or not an affair with him would be worth the heartache.

  Seizing the moment didn’t seem so simple anymore.

  As Neil drove two hours northeast to the town of Cranshaw on Saturday, Isobel couldn’t believe how patient he’d been with her this week. She remembered how he’d held her without pushing for more on Wednesday night, how he’d kissed her, restraining himself from letting desire get out of control. Thursday night she’d been on call and had to handle a readmission. Last night…

  They’d parked by her dad’s garage again and Neil had sensed how much she’d needed to cuddle with him again in the silence.

  It was scary sometimes how much he understood her. How was that possible in such a short time?

  They didn’t talk as they drove, just listened to music and held hands now and then across the middle of the car.

  When they reached the outskirts of Cranshaw, she saw Neil stiffen, his hands becoming tighter on the wheel. How hard was this trip to his parents going to be?

  “Your mom knows we’re coming?”

  “Yes, she does. Believe me, I’d never surprise them with an unexpected visit.”

  “Why not?”

  “My parents aren’t like your dad, Isobel. They’re not all-embracing. Mom wants to be, but Dad is too…unrelenting. She’ll pull out all the stops tonight, though, so be prepared.”

  “Pull out all the stops?”

  “White linen tablecloth, candles, good silver, her mother’s china.”

  “Does she do that for you?”

  “Sometimes. She feels she’s making my homecoming special that way. But tonight, she’s doing it because I’m bringing a guest.” As they drove through the center of town, they passed a huge brick-and-stone building with marble steps.

  “The courthouse?” she asked.

  “Yep. Dad worked there most of his life. I was really surprised when he retired two years ago. But he’s writing a book on sentencing and the prison system. That’s been keeping him busy.”

  The square in Cranshaw was the busiest intersection. Two streets later, Neil took a left turn, then a right. There was a row of shops, each painted a different color—yellow, royal blue, red and one white one. Antiques and More was the red structure which stood on the end. The other businesses housed a women’s boutique, a flower shop and an optician. All had similar window boxes filled with flowers and dark wood doors that stood open on the warm afternoon.

  “The proprietors of all four shops decided they wanted to stand out. Even with the strip mall at the south side of town and a major mall on the north, these specialty shops do a good business. Come on, I’ll introduce you to Mrs. Springer. She was my high-school math teacher.”

  Neil didn’t give Isobel time to comment. He just hopped out of the car and came around to her door.

  When she took his hand to climb out of the car, she asked, “Is Mrs. Springer going to tell me some good stories about you?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  A bell over the door jingled as Neil and Isobel went inside the shop. There were old photographs on the walls, furniture here and there, china and collectibles in cases. The woman at the cashier’s desk was tall and thin, with gray hair piled into curls on the top of her head. She wore bright pink lipstick and a smock over her knit shirt and jeans.

  When she saw Neil, she hurried toward him and gave him a big hug. “How are you doing, Neil? It’s so good to see you. What’s it been? Two, three years?”

  “About that. It’s good to see you, too, Mrs. Springer. I’d like to introduce you to Isobel Suarez. She’s the woman I told you about who’s collecting items for the senior citizens’ auction in Walnut River.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you it’s Helen. You’re out of school now, Neil…been out a long time.” She vigorously shook Isobel’s hand. “It’s good to meet you.”

  “Neil just told me you were his math teacher.”

  “That I was. He was one of my most promising students. He could have been a mathematician—clearheaded, fast-thinking, calculated quicker in his head than anyone could on the calculator.”

  Isobel quirked her eyebrows at Neil. “A hidden talent you haven’t told me about?”

  “One of many,” he joked. “Actually what I do isn’t that different from mathematics. I add up the information, subtract whatever is irrelevant and figure out the solution.”

  “Your dad was right, you know. You would have made a good lawyer,” Mrs. Springer commented.

  Neil went silent.

  Mrs. Springer, sensing she’d said the wrong thing, clasped Neil’s arm. “But I understand you had to take your own road. It’s just hard for a lot of parents who have their minds made up about what their children should be to accept something different.”

  Avoiding the topic altogether, Neil motioned to the merchandise in the shop. “So do you think you can help us? I’m searching for a couple of pieces I can buy and donate to the auction.”

  “Price range?” Helen asked.

  “About five hundred total.”

  “Neil!” Isobel was shocked. “You don’t have to donate that much. I never dreamed—”

  When Neil hung his arm around Isobel’s shoulders, she felt as if she belonged there, next to him, by his side. “Let me do this, Isobel. It’s a worthy cause and I’ll be able to see directly where it’s going.”

  Her heart tripped. “You think you’ll be coming back to visit after the investigation?”

  Gazing down at her, he nodded. “I’d say that’s a likely possibility.”

  Helen was watching them, taking it all in. She motioned to them. “Come into the back room with me. I have a couple of pieces I just touched up. You’ll want something useful that even someone who doesn’t know antiques might buy. I have a Chippendale chair that’s just been reupholstered and a nice claw-foot side table. If you have enough time, I can show you some pieces I’ve been saving for the summer tourist rush—Roseville pottery.”

  “Now that I could fit in my car. We have plenty of time, Helen.” In Isobel’s ear, he whispered, “We don’t want to arrive at my parents’ house any sooner than we have to.”

  Isobel hadn’t been particularly nervous before, but now…

  Neil’s parents certainly wouldn’t be ogres, but the way he was describing his dad, she suspected tonight could be uncomfortable at t
he least, confrontational at the worst, and maybe not even friendly.

  What had she gotten herself into?

  Chapter Nine

  “My father inherited the house from his father,” Neil explained as he drove up a treelined drive.

  If a house could impress Isobel, the Kanes’ house would. Stone and brick, it sat atop a hill with a long drive leading up to it. Surrounded by oaks, maples, spruce and pine, the three-story dwelling was stately and elegant, just like the property.

  He added, “The Kanes helped settle Cranshaw and they’ve always been instrumental in running the town. My grandfather, who was also once a criminal defense attorney, became mayor after he retired.”

  “So he was around when you were growing up?”

  “He was. We lived on the other side of town, and I used to ride my bike over. I could spend hours in his library. He died when I was in college. When my parents moved in, I chose a room on the third floor. It’s like being at the top of the world up there.”

  She peered at the third-floor gables. “I can see why. It’s a beautiful house.”

  “My parents finally seemed happier after they moved here. Maybe because there weren’t any reminders of Garrett.”

  This was the first Neil had mentioned his brother since that one reference to him dying. “Were you happier?”

  His answer was quick in coming. “I had moved on. But happier? No.”

  She could see now that his brother’s death had affected him deeply.

  They parked in front of a three-car garage that was attached to the house by a breezeway. Instead of going to the front door, Neil led Isobel to the breezeway door and they stepped inside.

  She could see the area was sort of like her dad’s glassed-in porch. The furniture was verdigris with huge soft cushions. The tables were metal and glass, and the ceramic-tile floor was the same rust shade as the cushions. A small gas-burning stove filled one corner.

  “This is lovely,” Isobel remarked, trying to take it all in. The backyard was immense.

  “I spent a lot of time out here when I came home from college.”

  Because he’d still felt separated from his parents? Choosing a room on the third floor set him apart from them. Had he stayed removed because of guilt? He’d told her that when Garrett had been born, he’d felt displaced. After his brother had died, he’d felt responsible. At a time when a boy needed his parents most, she had the feeling a wall of pain had blocked Neil from his. She suddenly realized that she not only recognized Neil’s pain, but actually felt it. She hurt for him; she hurt with him. And now she knew why.

  She loved him.

  She didn’t know when or how it had happened. But she was head over heels. He’d become integral to her life, and in such a short time. The reality of love was so huge, the rush of emotion so great, it frightened her.

  Without thinking twice, she slipped her hand into his.

  The doors of the house flew open and Neil’s mother—at least Isobel assumed she was Neil’s mother—stood there grinning at them. In her mid-sixties, Alice Kane was still a beautiful woman. Her frosted-blond wavy hair was styled attractively around her face. She was wearing a pale-peach sweater, shirt and knit slacks. Her eyes were the same golden brown as Neil’s. Although she appeared glad to see him, she didn’t run forward and embrace him, nor did he embrace her.

  Isobel keenly felt the absence of that hug.

  When Neil released Isobel’s hand and hung his arm around her shoulders, he said, “Mom, I’d like you to meet Isobel Suarez. Isobel, this is my mother, Alice Kane.”

  Isobel extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Kane.”

  “Call me Alice,” the older woman insisted. She stepped back and motioned them into the kitchen. “Come on in.” She said to Neil, “I baked your favorite oatmeal cookies.” As he passed her, she laid her hand on his shoulder.

  Isobel could feel that these two wanted to be close, yet something was standing in their way. The judge, maybe?

  “I have trays set up in the parlor,” Alice hurried on. “We have coffee, tea, hot chocolate, whatever you want.”

  Isobel glanced around the bright kitchen with its birch cupboards, stainless-steel appliances and an island in the center. A bright-red table and chairs sat under a flowered chandelier, and Isobel could peek into the large dining room beyond. The teakettle simmered on the stove and the aroma of fresh coffee floated through the air. Cookies were laid out on a beautiful glass tray covered with plastic wrap.

  “You don’t have to carry everything into the parlor. We can just sit at the table,” Neil suggested.

  “Oh, but your father said he’d prefer—”

  An older man who Isobel guessed was in his late sixties entered the kitchen then. He was tall, with glasses and completely gray hair. He was wearing an oxford-cloth shirt and casual slacks and loafers. His cheekbones were higher than Neil’s, his jaw a little less defined, but she could see the resemblance.

  “What do I prefer?” he asked with a tight smile and a nod toward Neil and Isobel.

  Awkwardness filled the kitchen but Neil replied easily. “I told Mom she didn’t have to go to all the trouble of setting up the parlor. We’re fine at the table.”

  Already Isobel felt the tight wire of tension pull between the two men. “That’s fine,” Neil’s father agreed, not making it an issue. “Introduce me to your…friend.”

  Neil made the introductions while his mother bustled about, putting the cookies on the table, gathering cups and saucers and goblets.

  “My wife tells me you’re a social worker, Isobel,” the judge remarked. “You must see as much dirty family laundry as I did when I was on the bench.”

  “I get involved in family dynamics,” she admitted. “Fortunately, I feel I can make a difference. I imagine it was frustrating for you to see the results of family situations gone wrong.”

  “That’s perceptive of you,” he said, studying her more closely, waiting for his wife to pour his coffee.

  Neil remained silent. Still, his father targeted him next. “We’ve heard all about the Northeastern HealthCare takeover attempt in Walnut River. We’re afraid they might try here next. Are you investigating what they’re trying to do?” he asked his son.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “And of course you can’t say more about it.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  The judge crossed his arms over his chest. “How soon will you be returning to Boston?”

  “I’m not sure, a week or two.”

  The judge assessed Neil’s neutral expression, then gave his son a slight smile that didn’t carry much warmth. “Have you thought about what I advised the last time you were home—running for office? Even though you’re not a lawyer, with the experience you’ve gotten, you could make a place for yourself in the State House, maybe even run for governor someday.”

  “I told you before, Dad, getting involved in politics is the last thing I’d ever consider,” Neil said calmly as if the calmness was hard to come by.

  “You’re really satisfied with what you’re doing?”

  “Let’s not get into this now, Dad, okay? Isobel and I just dropped by for a friendly visit.”

  As if his mother heard the restrained impatience in Neil’s tone, she rushed in. “Did you find any antiques at Mrs. Springer’s?”

  “We did. Isobel thinks they’ll go over well at the auction.”

  “Auction?” his father asked.

  “It’s a charity auction at the senior citizens’ center in Walnut River. Neil kindly bought a few items at Mrs. Springer’s and is donating them.” Isobel flashed a smile at Neil’s father.

  “Oh, he did?” Neil’s father gave his son a long look and then appraised her carefully. His perusal was making her uncomfortable so she filled in the silence.

  “Mrs. Springer even donated a small table we could fit in the back of the car. I might end up being auctioneer unless we can find someone more experienced. I’ll be familiar with each item, b
ut I’ve never done an auction.”

  “I helped with a silent auction last year,” Alice said cheerily. She began telling Isobel about the charity benefit.

  As Isobel listened, she wondered if this family had experienced any truly happy moments since Garrett had died. There was a chasm between Neil and his father that his mother obviously tried to fill, yet she couldn’t, because she felt torn between the two of them.

  Isobel felt Judge Kane’s constant regard as Neil’s mom gave her a tour of her gardens and they talked about flowers and landscaping. She felt his gaze on her often throughout dinner.

  Afterward as dusk began to fall, Neil pulled her outside onto the patio. She supposed he wanted to give both of them a break.

  The night air was cool and Neil stood close enough that she could feel his body heat. “Do you want to go to the inn now? We don’t have to stay.”

  “You haven’t seen your parents in a while, Neil. Don’t you want to spend some time with them?”

  “You’ve gotten a taste of what it’s like being with my parents. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. This was a bad idea. I don’t know what I thought I’d accomplish.”

  “Did you want them to meet me, or me to meet them?”

  He didn’t pretend not to know what she meant. Had he brought her here so his parents might approve of her? Or had he brought her here so she could get a peek into his life, what it had been and what it was now.

  “I’m not sure. Every time I come home I think things might be different. They never are.”

  “Your mom is sweet. She tries to make up for the tension between you and your dad.”

  “If it weren’t for Mom, I wouldn’t come home.”

  Suddenly the patio lights went on. They lit the perimeter of the flagstone and dispelled the approaching shadows. The French door that separated the dining room from the patio opened and Judge Kane stepped outside. It was obvious he noticed how close Neil and Isobel were standing.

  He wore a light jacket and he brought Isobel’s sweater to her. She’d left it in the kitchen. “I thought you might need this.”

  Neil silently took it from his father and held it while Isobel inserted first one arm and then the other. “Thank you,” she told the older man, looking for signs of softening in his face. There weren’t any.