To Have And To Hold. Myrna Mackenzie
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take that risk.” He kissed her again, long and slow and deliciously provocative.
Heat radiated through him, scorching her, and Callie wondered if she might melt. Kissing had never felt like this before. Nothing had ever come close to this. He was strong and safe—a haven for her shattered heart.
When the kiss was over she spoke. “But earlier today you were angry with me.”
“Yes. No. Not angry … just … wanting you and not sure how to reach you.” He touched her face. “Because I do want you Callie … very much.”
She wanted him, too. She wanted more of his touch, more of his mouth, his breath. He gave her what her eyes asked for, kissing her passionately, cradling her against his body.
“Hey, Callie! I’m here for—”
Fiona. Noah released her instantly and she stepped back on unsteady feet. Busted—and by the biggest blabbermouth she knew.
“Oh,” Fiona said so chirpily it had to be a cover for her surprise. “Hey, Noah. So … I’ll just go and make myself invisible.”
Fiona Walsh invisible? Not likely. But to her credit she left the room without another word. Callie looked at Noah. He didn’t look the least bit embarrassed that they’d been caught making out. “I should probably go inside,” she said quietly. “Fiona is here for …”
“Don’t run now.”
She twisted her hands together. Her skin, her lips, the blood in her veins felt more alive than she’d believed possible. “Noah … I’m not ready for someone like you.”
He stood rigid. “Like me?”
Callie exhaled heavily. “You’re like this whole package—like Mr. Perfect.” Suddenly the heat was back in the small room, charging the invisible atoms in the air with a heady pulse.
He laughed humorlessly. “I’m far from perfect.”
Callie crossed her arms. “I mean that I don’t think you’re the kind of man a woman kisses and then forgets. I don’t think you’re the kind of man a woman simply has sex with. I think you’re the kind of man a woman makes love with—and I’m not … I can’t …”
His eyes glittered. “So this isn’t a sex thing?”
Callie blushed wildly. “Well, of course it’s a sex thing. I mean, I’m not denying that I’m attracted to you. It’s obvious I am. It’s not just a sex thing.”
He didn’t move. He stared at her with such burning intensity she had to look away. To the floor. To the side. Anywhere but into his eyes.
Finally, he spoke. “Within minutes of meeting you, Callie, I knew something was happening. I couldn’t figure out what, but I knew it was big. I knew, on some level, that it would change my life. But I can’t afford to be casual about this. I have a responsibility to my kids to keep myself in a good place and to do the right thing by them.”
She took a deep breath as the sting of tears threatened. “That’s just it. I know that about you … I feel that. You have to think about your children, Noah,” she breathed. “And I … I’m not prepared to … I’m not prepared for that.”
His gaze narrowed. “For what, Callie? My kids? Is that what you’re saying?”
Her heart ached. I’m saying I’m not ready to let go yet … I’m not ready to forget my baby son and move on. I’m not ready to fall for you and love another woman’s children.
Her heart contracted. “Yes.” She whispered the word, knowing it would hurt him, knowing she was pushing him away because she was so afraid of all he offered her. “I don’t want a ready-made family.”
Silence screeched between them, like fingernails on a chalkboard.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “Well, I guess that’s it, then. I’ll see you next weekend.”
Callie stepped forward. “Noah, I really—”
“There’s no need to explain, Callie,” he said, cutting her off. “I understand what you’re saying. You don’t want my kids. You don’t want me. That’s plain enough. I’ll see you ‘round.”
She waited until he’d left the small room before taking a breath. And as she heard his truck pull away, she burst into tears.
Callie remained in the office for a while, but once her tears were wiped up she returned to the house. Fiona was waiting for her on the porch. Her friend sat on the love seat and held two glasses of wine.
“You look like you could use this.”
She sank on the seat and took the glass. “Thanks.”
Fiona’s big eyes looked her over. “You’ve been crying. What happened? You two looked cozy when I walked in.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You know,” Fiona said, sharper than usual, “sometimes it doesn’t hurt to open up a bit. That’s what friends do for each other—in case you forgot.”
“I’m a terrible friend,” Callie said through a tiny hiccup.
“Yeah, I know.”
Callie couldn’t help the hint of a smile that curled her mouth. “I don’t know how to feel,” she admitted. “He wants … he wants …”
“Everything?” Fiona asked. “That doesn’t seem like such a bad deal to me.”
It didn’t, no. But taking everything meant giving everything. “I can’t.”
Fiona took a sip of wine. “You can’t live in the past forever, Callie. Believe me, I know that from experience.” She leaned back in the love seat. “I know you lost a baby.”
Callie gasped. “How do you—”
“I found some pictures,” Fiona explained. “Remember when you first moved in and I helped you unpack? You were out with the horses and I was inside going through boxes …” Her voice trailed off.
Her memory box—given to her by the caring nursing staff at the hospital after Ryan had passed away. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
Fiona shrugged. “I figured if you wanted to tell me, you would. The only reason I’m bringing it up now is that I like Noah. And so do you. I don’t get why you’d send him away.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Because he has kids?”
Callie wondered where her friend had gotten all this sudden intuition from. “I’m just not sure if I can do it.”
Fiona watched her over the rim of her glass. “You won’t know unless you try.”
“And if I mess up, the children will be caught in the middle.”
“I think you should cut yourself some slack. You’re smart and from what I’ve seen you’re pretty good with kids.”
“This is different,” she said quietly.
“Why? Because you’re falling in love with him? With them?” Fiona asked.
Callie gasped. Was it true? Was she falling in love with him? She liked him … really liked him. But love? Could she? Overwhelmed, Callie couldn’t find the voice to deny her friend’s suspicions.
“Have you told Noah about your son?”
“No.”
“Maybe you should,” Fiona suggested. “You know he’d understand. Or is that what you’re afraid of?”
She stared at her friend. Was that the truth? Was she so afraid of him really knowing her?
“I