N. Walters: The Seduction of Shamus O'Rourke

She was climbing out of her car when he pulled into the parking lot. Slamming her car door, she shot him a glare, and then strode into the garage. Shamus was no fool, so he sat in his truck, letting the engine idle while he waited. Not ten minutes later, she came back out again, her purse hitched over her shoulder. Ignoring him totally, she headed toward the sidewalk.

Shamus pulled his truck alongside her and rolled down his window. “You might as well let me give you a ride home. I'll just follow you otherwise."

She tiled her chin even higher.

"What could it hurt?” he cajoled.

Stopping, she spun on her heel and faced him. “Can't you take no for an answer? Maybe I should call the cops.” Her face was red, her lips pursed tight.

"If you'd wanted the cops, you should have waited another thirty seconds at the diner. You could have had my brother arrest me."

She reeled back as if he'd struck her. “Patrick is a cop?"

"As of two months ago, he's the sheriff.” Shamus paused as her choice of words struck him. She seemed to be very familiar with his family.

"That's just great,” he heard her say under her breath. “I'll be run out of town before sunset."

"Look, I may be way out of line here, Cyndi, but I like you, and I think you like me. There's no harm in me helping you out or sharing a meal with you. If you really want me to go, I'll leave. I never meant to upset you."

Her hands were trembling and her face had lost all color, making the dark circles beneath her eyes even more prominent. But it was the haunted look in her eyes that made him want to get out of his truck and wrap his arms around her. She looked positively wounded. He didn't move because he didn't want to frighten her off. His fingers squeezed the steering wheel until his knuckles were white.

As he watched, she straightened her shoulders and swallowed hard. He admired the way she pulled herself back together, preparing to face whatever it was that was bothering her so much.

"You've been nothing but kind to me, Shamus.” He loved the way his name sounded on her lips. Would have liked to hear it under better circumstances. “But you really need to stay away from me. Your family would be very upset if they found out you were spending time with me."

"Why?” His gut was churning, telling him he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear.

"Can't you just let it go?"

"No. If you want me to leave, you need to explain this to me."

She studied him for a long time, both of them trapped in a standoff. Finally, as if sensing he wouldn't give in, she nodded and walked around to the passenger side and climbed in.

Cyndi dragged her feet as she climbed aboard Shamus's truck. Why wouldn't he leave well enough alone? Because he was a good man, a voice in the back of her head insisted.

She could just imagine the strife it would cause in his life if his sister found out that he was hanging around her, having breakfast with her. As for his brother Patrick, well, Cyndi didn't want to think about what he might do. He had the power to make her life very uncomfortable in this town.

The irony of the situation didn't escape her. Years before, it had been the O'Rourke family who hadn't had any power against the influential James family. Now the shoe was on the other foot. From her conversation with her father's lawyer yesterday, she knew that Burke Black, Shamus's brother-in-law, was now one of the most prominent men in town. Now to find out that Patrick O'Rourke was the sheriff... Well, if she hadn't felt welcome in Jamesville before, it felt triply that way now.

Shamus was sitting silently beside her, waiting for her to tell him where to go. He might be younger than her, but there was a steadiness about him, a calmness that made him seem more mature.

Keeping her eyes on the road in front of her, she gave him directions. “We're going to James Lane."

She could feel his eyes on her for a moment and then the truck began to move. “Not many houses on James Lane.” He said it casually, but she could hear the underlying question in his voice.

"No, there's not.” Her tone was flat and didn't invite further comment. If he was bound and determined to dig up the past, he could wait until she'd gathered her thoughts.

Her head was beginning to throb, and no wonder. She'd slept in fits and starts last night, waking at every groan and creak the house made. Even though she'd brought her own pillows and comforter with her, there was no disguising the fact that she wasn't in her cozy bedroom in Vermont anymore.

She hadn't slept well since she'd received that first embossed envelope by special messenger informing her of her father's death. He'd always been a larger-than-life figure. She'd half expected him to live forever. Even from the grave, he'd dictated how he'd wanted matters handled, which was why she'd gotten a letter from the lawyers instead of a phone call.

Leaning her head back against the headrest, she closed her eyes. The darkness helped her head, but it heightened her other senses. She could hear the rustle of material as Shamus turned the wheel of the truck. His scent—sandalwood and a hint of something else, masculine and uniquely Shamus—seemed to fill the cab.

Her fingers curled inward. He was wearing faded jeans and a T-shirt this morning. The shirt, a blue-gray color, matched his eyes and made the color appear even deeper. His shoulders were incredibly wide, his biceps thick. She swallowed a moan of despair. She had to stop thinking about him in that way. Shamus was one indulgence she just couldn't afford, not if she was determined to stay in Jamesville and put the ghosts of her past to rest. He was a part of her past, part of what she'd been running from, whether he knew it or not.

"Cyndi?"

She opened her eyes and turned her head. He was staring at her with obvious concern on his face. Ignoring it, she pointed ahead. “There."

"That's the James's house."

"I know.” She straightened and waited until he pulled the truck in the driveway. When he parked, she grasped the door handle. “You might as well come in."

She slid out of the vehicle, not waiting to see if he was behind her. If he wanted answers, he'd follow her. The thud of a door closing reached her ears, and then she heard the crunch of boots against the gravel.

Cyndi rooted around in her purse until she found her keys. She quickly unlocked the door and stepped inside. Ignoring the oppressive foyer, she headed toward the back of the house and the kitchen. “This way."

She could sense him behind her, but she still didn't face him. She dumped her purse on the kitchen counter and pulled off her jacket, tossing it aside. Grabbing the kettle, she put water on to boil before she finally turned to face Shamus.

He was standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb just watching her. His eyes were hooded, his arms crossed negligently against his chest. “You want to tell me what we're doing here?” The low, rough tone of his voice sent shivers skating down her spine.

No other man had ever had the ability to affect her this easily. It had to be the stress. It couldn't be anything else. She couldn't let it be anything else.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, she crossed her ankles and tried to appear as casual as he did. She could feel the cool marble against the small of her back and she wished she hadn't taken off her jacket.

"This is mine now."

His eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed. “You knew Cyrus James?"

"I'm his daughter.” There. She'd said it, flung the words at him like some gauntlet, daring him to pick it up.

He pushed away from the doorjamb and straightened. He was so broad he all but filled the doorway. His hands went to his hips as he stared at her. “What did you say?"