N. Walters: The Seduction of Shamus O'Rourke

She took a deep breath wanting to get through this as fast as possible. “My name was Cynthia James; I changed it legally when I left town years ago. I took my mother's maiden name and kept it even when I got married."

"You're married.” His voice got flatter and softer, but Cyndi flinched as if he'd yelled at her. Somehow, his quiet anger was more frightening then her father's loud fury had been.

"No. I'm divorced. I was married more than ten years ago. The marriage didn't last very long.” And why was she telling him all this? She didn't owe him anything, for heaven's sake. He was a kind stranger who'd stopped to help her on the road yesterday, yet somehow she was spilling her guts to him to try to make him understand. “It doesn't matter,” she began.

"Of course it matters.” He took a step toward her and it took everything in her to stand her ground.

"No, it doesn't.” Someone had to be sensible here and it looked as if it would have to be her. “I'm Cynthia James. Don't you have any idea what that means in this town?"

He cocked his eyebrow. “That you're better than me?"

She closed her eyes and almost groaned. They snapped open again when she sensed Shamus moving toward her. “No!” She held out her hand and he came to an abrupt halt.

"No,” she softened her tone. “It doesn't mean I'm better. It means I've got a history in this town and not a very pleasant one. A lot of folks in Jamesville won't be happy to know I'm back, and your sister is one of them."

"Why?” His voice was soft and non-threatening as if he sensed just how on edge she was.

It irritated her and she snapped at him. “Because I was a bitch when I lived here, and I tried to break up Dani and Burke before they were married. You probably don't remember it because you were just a kid."

He didn't react to her barb, which left her feeling small and petty for flinging it at him. What was it about this place that brought out the absolute worst in her?

She reached inside herself for the calm that was usually there and found nothing but a roiling mass of emotions threatening to bubble over. “The short version of the story is that I had problems, and I thought a rich man like Burke could help me out of them. I tried to break up his relationship with Dani, going as far as standing in the middle of Jessie's and accusing him of getting me pregnant. It didn't work, I left town in disgrace, end of story."

It was strange to sum up years of torment and pain in a few short sentences. No one in this town had known the hell that had been her life. The two housekeepers who'd tried to help her when she was still a child had found themselves jobless and soon, penniless. Her father had found secrets in their past, blackmailing them to keep them quiet. As her father had been fond of saying—everyone has a price or a secret and, if you know it, you can control them.

She watched Shamus, but his expression didn't change. She had no idea what he was thinking. She just knew she had to get him out of her house. “Now you understand why you have to stay away from me."

He shook his head and began to walk slowly toward her. His heavy boots thudded against the hardwood floor. By the time she thought to move, it was too late. The counter was behind her and Shamus was in front of her.

He loomed over her, his face grave as he leaned forward and placed his hands on the counter on either side of her, effectively caging her in. She swallowed hard, half afraid, half thrilled by his nearness. She could feel the heat of his body, and she'd been cold for so long.

Cyndi raised her hand and placed it on his chest. She wanted to push him away, instead her fingers curled into his shirt. He lowered his head until their noses were almost touching. His eyes appeared even darker as he stared at her.

"No, I don't understand what that has to do with us. That was a long time ago, Cyndi, and you're not the same woman anymore."

She frowned at him. “How can you say that? You don't know me.” The last thing she'd expected was for him to say something like that. She expected everyone in Jamesville to judge her by her past. After all, they had nothing else to go on.

His hand came up to touch her cheek. It took all her resolve not to turn into his palm and press her face against it. Sympathy and understanding were the last things she'd expected, and they pushed her to the verge of tears. But she blinked them back.

Tears were useless, or at least real tears were. She'd been able to summon fake tears at will years ago, to get her way with men and sometimes, even women. But real tears, the kind she'd shed alone in her bedroom late at night, had gained her nothing.

His fingers pushed back her bangs as he leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was a gentle caress, one to give comfort, with no expectations. Other than her Aunt Verna, no one had ever touched her in such a way before.

When she was growing up, the boys she'd dated had treated her as a prize to be won. As she'd grown older, the men had treated her like a sexual trophy, although all of them had gone away empty-handed. Most folks in this town probably wouldn't believe it, but she'd been a virgin when she'd married Brett Landers. Her father had her checked by the doctor every six months back when she lived at home and had sworn he'd kill her if she gave in to a man without a ring on her finger.

She'd realized too late that she'd married a man too much like her father. Aunt Verna had warned her, but she hadn't listened, hadn't wanted to. All Cyndi had wanted was to be loved for herself, but it hadn't happened. A divorce had quickly followed. After that, she hadn't trusted her judgment, not when it came to men.

But Shamus seemed different.

No man had ever touched her just to offer comfort. Cyndi swallowed the lump in her throat. He pulled his lips away and just rested his forehead against hers. Her fingers tightened, holding onto his shirt as if he was the only anchor she had in a world tilted on its axis.

"You have to leave me alone,” she whispered. Shamus was a good man, a kind man, and she would not be responsible for causing problems between him and his family. Those days were over. Somehow, she found the strength to pry her fingers from his shirt and push him away. He leaned back, but didn't move away. His eyes searched her face, but he said nothing. “I won't cause problems for you and your family."

"Let me worry about them."

"No.” She shook her head adamantly. The kettle began to whistle, and she slid away from him. Her body grazed his, and it sent a blast of heat through her.

Cyndi's hand was shaking as she lifted the kettle and placed it on the back burner. “Look, we only met yesterday. You helped me out in a jam, and we had breakfast this morning. There's nothing between us."

Shamus came up behind her and rested his large, powerful hands on her shoulders. “You don't believe that any more than I do,” he whispered as he kissed the side of her neck.

For just a moment, she gave into weakness and leaned into his caress. His lips glided over her nape and then he was nibbling on her earlobe. The pounding of her heart filled her ears, her breathing was getting shallow, and her knees went weak.

"No, you have to stop.” She meant her protest to come out strong and sure, instead her voice was little more then a sultry whisper. She grabbed the edge of the counter, wrapping her fingers around the edge of the hard marble. “Stop it, Shamus."

He stepped back immediately, but turned her to face him. She tried to resist, but he just kept up a steady pressure until she gave up. “I'll go, but this is far from over."

"It's over. It has to be over."

He cocked his head to one side and a lock of his molasses-brown hair fell across his forehead. He shoved it aside. “We're both adults, Cyndi. What we do is our business."