Kate Hoffmann - Conor

He wouldn’t feel safe until the two of them were back on dry land, somewhere warm and secure. He wasn’t sure where they’d go. His apartment was too obvious, and probably way too messy for guests. He might be able to commandeer Dylan’s place, although his brother’s housekeeping abilities weren’t much better than Conor’s.

He glanced up at the pilothouse, watching as his brothers carried on a quiet conversation. Whenever Conor saw Dylan and Brendan outside the confines of the pub, he was always amazed at how they’d grown into such fine men. He still thought of them as kids, the skinny, untamed lads he’d watched over. The temptation to parent them was still strong, to tell Bren he needed a haircut and a shave, to chastise Dylan for not wearing a jacket in the cold.

Though he’d never told them, he saw his ma in their faces every time he looked at them-in the striking bone structure and the thick, nearly black hair. He saw the same face in the mirror every morning as he shaved, but watching his brothers, so strong and well grown, he couldn’t help but wonder what Fiona Quinn might think of them now. Whether she ever thought of them at all. Conor didn’t believe for a second that his mother had died in an auto wreck.

When Dylan glanced over at Conor, he gave him a lascivious grin and low whistle, nodding his head at the spot along the rail where Olivia stood. Conor shook his head, then climbed up to the pilothouse. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned, stepping inside.

“Think about what?” Dylan whispered.

“What you’re always thinking about when you see a beautiful woman.”

“Ah, brother, a woman like that is obviously wasted on you,” Dylan said.

“She is a pretty little thing, isn’t she,” Brendan added.

Conor growled softly. He wondered whether his younger brothers would ever grow up. Would they ever realize there was more to life than an endless string of women traipsing in and out of their bedrooms? “Just get us back to Hull,” he said. “That’s all I need from you two right now.”

He climbed back down to the main deck and joined Olivia at the rail. She looked a bit seasick and completely exhausted. He gently took her icy hands and drew her toward the main cabin, holding her arm as she gingerly walked through the companionway. Bren had warmed up the main cabin and lights glowed softly around the spacious interior. Conor walked over to the galley and poured a mug of coffee from the huge thermos he found there, then held it out to Olivia. “Are you all right?”

She slowly sat down, bracing herself with her hands against the rocking of the boat.

“You’ll get used to the motion,” he said. “And once we’re across the bay, it’ll calm down. Have some coffee.”

She took the hot brew and sipped at it as she glanced around. “It-it’s warm in here. I haven’t been warm in two days.” She hesitated, then looked up at him with wide eyes. “How can you be so mean to me one minute and so nice the next?”

Chastened by her question, Conor turned away and fetched himself a mug. “It’s my job,” he said, stirring in a generous amount of sugar.

“Is that all it is?”

“What else would it be?” He faced her, leaning up against the counter and crossing his legs at the ankle.

She forced a smile. “Then I suppose I should apologize-for earlier. I didn’t mean to get…carried away. It’s just that my nerves have been a little frayed lately and I thought you-”

“It’s all right,” Conor said. He wasn’t going to tell her that he’d wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss him. He wasn’t going to say how much self-control it had taken for him to draw away, to resist savoring just one taste. Damn, he’d love nothing better than to forget all his responsibilities and do something reckless. To throw caution to the wind and drag her into his bed. But he’d already nearly screwed the pooch at the precinct. He wasn’t going to give his boss anything more to use against him. An affair with a witness was more than enough to cost him his badge.

“Where are we going to go now?” she asked.

“Back to Boston-or Hull, to be more precise. After that, I don’t know,” Conor said.

She bit her bottom lip, her gaze dropping to her coffee mug. “If he found me at the beach house, then he’s going to find me no matter where we go.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

She drew a ragged breath. “As soon as we get back to Boston, I have to stop at my apartment. I don’t have any clothes. We left everything at the beach house. And there’s something else I need to get.”

Conor shook his head. “No, we can’t. It would be too dangerous. We’ll buy you new clothes.”

“Please,” Olivia pleaded. “I’ve got nothing. My shop is closed, my apartment is deserted, I haven’t slept in my own bed in days. I just want some things around me that are mine.”

He didn’t want to listen to her pleas. In truth, he was scared he’d give in. It was hard to refuse Olivia anything, especially when he saw the vulnerability in her eyes. All he wanted to do was protect her, but sometimes his instincts as a man were in direct conflict with his instincts as a cop. “I said no.” With that, Conor turned and walked to the companionway. “If you need me, I’ll be up on the bridge.”

Conor cursed softly as he climbed the ladder back to the pilothouse. Dylan and Brendan both turned as he stepped inside, watching him with perceptive eyes. There were no secrets between the Quinn brothers. “So, what’s going on with you two?” Dylan asked.

Conor shrugged. “Nothing. She’s just a witness.”

Brendan chuckled. “Give me a break, Con. We see the way you look at her, the way you hover. When was the last time you ever treated a woman like that?”

“Never,” Dylan answered. “He treats her as if she’s made of gold. Did you see that, Bren? Like gold.”

“It’s part of the job,” Conor said. “If I don’t keep her happy, she doesn’t testify. Or worse yet, she runs off and gets herself killed and I get my ass booted out of the department for dereliction of duty.”

“He’s fallen for her,” Dylan commented. “But he’s deluding himself. Lying in lavender like Paddy’s pig, he is!”

Conor forced a chuckle. Dylan might be quick to jump to conclusions, but he was dead wrong. The last thing he’d allow himself to do was fall for Olivia Farrell. Sure, he might be attracted to her. What man wouldn’t be? She was a beautiful woman. But that was where it ended. “You forget. I was raised on the same stories that you were. I know what happens if a Quinn falls in love. Hell, I might as well just throw myself off a cliff and save everyone the trouble.”

His brothers stared out at the horizon, remembering the tales of their childhood as clearly as Conor did. “I’m amazed we’re not all psychologically scarred,” Dylan muttered.

Brendan sighed. “Maybe we are. I don’t see any of us in real relationships. Something permanent. Something that lasts longer than a month. Six decent-looking guys, good jobs, straight teeth. What are the odds?”

In truth, Conor had wondered the very same thing. He couldn’t deny that their father’s attitude had something to do with his own approach to women. He remembered all the stories. He also remembered his mother and the pain he’d felt when she’d left.

Olivia Farrell could make him feel that pain again. She had that power. But he’d never let it happen. He wasn’t going to fall for her, because as soon as they got to shore, he was going to call the station and get himself reassigned. Olivia Farrell wouldn’t have the chance to bring this Quinn down.

OLIVIA WASN’T SURE where she was when she opened her eyes. She only knew that she was warm and that she’d slept soundly for the first time in days. Tugging the rough wool blanket up around her nose, she sighed softly. She didn’t know where she was, but she somehow sensed that she was safe.