Kate Hoffmann - Conor

Awake, he always had a hard edge to him, his gaze intense and his jaw tight. But as he slept, she saw a side of him revealed rarely, only in a fleeting glimpse when he smiled. Olivia tiptoed over to the bed and knelt down beside him. His hair fell over his forehead, just touching the dark slashes of his eyebrows.

She looked closer, surprised that she’d never noticed how long and thick his lashes were. Beautiful, she mused. Not a word one would usually associate with a man like Conor Quinn. Desire welled up inside of her, unbidden but undeniable. She’d always been so careful with men, but with Conor all her resolve seemed to crumble with just one touch.

He was arrogant yet affectionate, dangerous yet vulnerable, contrasts that she found irresistibly intriguing. She’d never felt such an instant connection with a man before. With a hesitant hand, she reached out and tenderly brushed the hair out of his eyes. Her breath stilled and she bent over him and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

Conor’s eyelids fluttered and he awoke.

FOR A MOMENT, he thought he might be dreaming. The light from the oil lamp shimmered around her head, like a halo. And then his vision cleared and he found himself looking at an angel come to earth. Conor smiled sleepily. “Hi,” he murmured.

Olivia leaned forward and gazed into his eyes. “How do you feel?”

“Like hell,” he said. “But the doctor says I’ll be fine. A little sore for a while. And I’m going to have to give up my Olympic dreams in the javelin and shotput.”

She giggled and the sound brought a small measure of relief. Brendan had told him that Olivia had been close to tears when they’d arrived. It was nice to see her smile again. Just looking at her exquisite beauty was the best medicine he could have.

“Brendan went to get us something to eat. Are you hungry?”

He pushed up on his elbow, pain shooting through his side. “I’m starved,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

“Here,” Olivia said. “Let me help you.” She placed her arm around his shoulders and helped him sit. His face nuzzled into her chest as she moved him and he groaned inwardly, trying hard to ignore visions of the warm flesh beneath her sweater. When she had stacked a few pillows behind his back, Conor closed his eyes and leaned back, trying to banish the heat that had shot to his groin. At least he knew the bullet hadn’t injured that part of his anatomy.

“What are we going to do now?” Olivia asked, sitting down on the edge of the berth.

“Bren called my little brother Liam. They’re going to help Brendan take the boat up to Salem. My brothers Sean and Brian will meet us there with another car. After that, we’re going to get lost until the trial.”

“Don’t you think you should call your boss and tell him we’re okay?”

“I’m not playing by the rules anymore. I did, and it almost got us both killed. If they thought I was a rogue cop before, they haven’t seen anything yet.”

“All right,” Olivia said. “Whatever you think is best.”

A soft knock sounded at the door and Olivia walked over and opened it. Brendan stood outside with two paper bags. He handed them to Olivia. “I’ve got cat food. Why don’t you send Tommy out and I’ll feed him.” He looked over to Conor. “Liam’s here. We’re going to be casting off in about a half hour.”

Olivia set the bags on the bed, then picked up the cat and shooed him out the door. When she and Conor were alone again, she carefully opened the Styrofoam containers. “We have a hamburger…a hamburger…and-ah, something different-a cheeseburger.”

“My brother has very basic tastes when it comes to food,” Conor said.

Olivia plucked a French fry from the bag and held it out in front of Conor’s mouth. He grabbed it with his teeth and quickly devoured it. It was the best French fry he’d ever eaten and Conor wondered whether that had less to do with the chef and more to do with his dinner companion.

After they finished, Olivia cleaned up the wrappers and the soda cans, then took them out to the galley. When she returned, she stood in the doorway of the forward cabin, her hands clutched in front of her. “I guess I should let you get some rest. I’ll just find a spot for myself in-”

“No,” Conor said. “Stay here. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re close by.”

She gave the twin-size berth a long look and Conor could tell exactly what she was thinking. In order for both of them to sleep in it, they’d have to practically wrap their bodies around each other. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” she said, moving to sit on the edge of the berth.

He nodded, then closed his eyes. “Tell me a story,” he said. “When we were kids, my brothers and I always had a story before bed.”

“About what?”

“Fairies and gnomes and elves.”

“Well, I know the story of Thumbelina,” she said.

“Is that an Irish fairy?”

“No, I think it’s just a fairy tale.”

“I suppose that will have to do. Tell me, then.”

Olivia drew a deep breath and began to speak. Though her story seemed to be an odd amalgam of several different Disney movies, Conor really didn’t care. He just wanted to listen to her voice, to reassure himself that she was still safe. As she launched into a subplot that had something to do with a cricket, he reached out and took her hand between his, distractedly toying with her fingers.

His touch caused her to hesitate for a moment, as if the warmth from his fingers had swept the words from her head. But then the story continued, through his gentle exploration of the soft skin on the inside of her wrist and inner arm, past the point where he gently pulled her down next to him on the bed, and beyond the moment when he tucked her body against his. It was only then that he could finally close his eyes and sleep, when his arms were wrapped around her waist and the sweet curve of her backside was tucked in his lap.

Conor drifted in and out of sleep, the painkillers the doctor had given him causing fitful dreams. He remembered hearing the engines start and then the gentle motion of the boat as it cut through the water. Olivia slept soundly, her body soft and warm in his arms, her breathing slow and even. Now that they were on the water, he was certain he could keep her safe. And though he’d always hated The Mighty Quinn, he had to appreciate the old boat for taking them out of danger.

Salem was fifteen miles across Massachusetts Bay and a busy harbor town. The boat could get in and out without much notice. Though Conor wanted to put his plans all together in his head, his brain was too fuzzy to concentrate for long. Instead, he nuzzled his face into the curve of Olivia’s neck and closed his eyes again.

He wasn’t sure how long he slept, but the next thing he remembered was the boat bumping up against the dock. Olivia rolled slightly with the motion and he grabbed her tight to keep her from falling off the berth. She stiffened in his arms and he knew she had awakened. When she turned onto her back and glanced up at him, it was with uncomprehending eyes.

“We’re just tying up,” he whispered, her face so close to his that he could feel her breath on his skin.

She didn’t say anything, just stared into his eyes. And then Conor bent closer and touched his lips to hers. He really hadn’t expected her to respond, but when she did, he deepened the kiss, lost in the enticing taste of her mouth.

Everything about her was too much to resist and he didn’t want to make the effort anymore. He’d been alone for so long and, for the first time in his life, he’d found someone who could make him forget all of the barriers he’d built around his heart. She touched a spot, deep inside of him, that he hadn’t even known existed. And when he kissed her, he didn’t have to wonder whether his kiss was making promises he didn’t want to keep. For now, Olivia was his and that was all that mattered.