Ask Me Why (9 page)

He released her and sighed with pleasure as her arms encircled him and her fingers burrowed into his hair. “Cameron,” he whispered in her ear, “I love you so much. I love you more than I did when I woke up this morning, and that was an awful lot.”

“Mmm,” she said, smiling as her eyes closed when he pushed into her. “Me, too.”

“Are you close, baby?”

“So close . . .”

He picked up the pace, giving her everything she needed to get there.

“Will . . . I'm . . . Oh . . .
yeah
.”

It took everything he had to hold off and ride the storm of her orgasm without giving in to his own. He watched her come back down from the high to realize he hadn't gone with her. Smiling down at her, he kissed her and then turned them over so she was on top of him.

“Is this what you want?” she asked as she rolled her hips and took him straight to heaven.

“Just like that.”

She kept it up until he exploded inside her, gripping her hips so tightly there'd probably be bruises again.

He reached for her, and she came down on top of him, snuggled into his embrace as their bodies continued to twitch and pulse where they were joined. “I didn't mean to be so rough.”

“Please don't apologize. I love everything we do together.”

“In that case,” he said, turning them over so he was once again on top, “how do you feel about more of the same, only a little slower this time.”

“You're not tired?”

“I figure we can sleep on the plane.”

“Have I mentioned there's a bedroom on the plane?”

“Oh . . . There is?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, sleep is overrated anyway, especially when there's such a good reason to stay up all night.”

“We can sleep on the beach in Fiji.”

“I do like the way you think, Mrs. Abbott.”

BACK IN BUTLER,
Mary Larkin drove Patrick Murphy to the Abbotts' home, where he was spending one more night before heading back to the city in the morning. Even though his hosts were heading in the same direction, Patrick had asked Mary to drive him.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd danced as much as she had at Will and Cameron's wedding—and she'd danced every song with Patrick. He'd kept her laughing and entertained all evening, and she couldn't deny that she was powerfully attracted to Cameron's handsome, gregarious father.

But Patrick's reputation as a playboy had preceded him to Butler, and as much as Mary would enjoy the opportunity to get to know him better, she was no fool. Theirs had been a one-night flirtation, and that's all it would ever be.

“Are you in a rush to go right home?” Patrick asked as they headed into town.

“What did you want to do?”

“What's there to do in these parts this time of night?”

“Not much. There's a piano bar at the inn, but it's only open for another hour or so.”

“That sounds good to me. I could use a nightcap after giving away my daughter.”

“That was traumatic for you, huh?”

“You have no idea.” Though the comment was said lightly, Mary sensed he wasn't entirely kidding. Despite his easy humor, she'd caught him looking wistfully at Cameron more than once during the evening and had wondered what he was thinking at those moments.

Inside the Butler Inn, the piano bar was still open and several patrons were enjoying the music with their drinks.

Patrick followed her to a booth far enough from the piano that they could talk without having to shout.

Mary told herself that the hand he placed on her lower back didn't mean anything. He probably did that as naturally as he drew oxygen to his lungs. Still, she sort of wished for a second that she were the type of woman who could allow herself to get carried away with such a gesture.

When they were seated, a waitress came to take their order. “Soda water with lemon,” she said because she was driving.

“I'll have the same, but add a double shot of Ketel One to mine,” Patrick said.

“We have Grey Goose and Absolut, but no Ketel One,” the waitress replied.

Patrick sighed deeply. “Grey Goose, please.”

“Coming right up.”

“No cell service and no Ketel One. How do you people function here?”

Mary laughed at the look of utter distress on his face. “Somehow we survive.”

“I can't imagine how.”

“You city slickers are spoiled by having everything you could want or need at your fingertips.”

“I'm definitely guilty of that.”

“That's one of the things I love about living here. You have to make do with what you have. It makes you appreciate the simple things in life.”

The waitress arrived with their drinks, and Patrick paid with a fifty-dollar bill.

“Thank you,” Mary said.

“You're most welcome.”

“How's the Grey Goose?”

“It'll do in a pinch.”

“You're spoiled, Patrick.”

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “I wasn't always, though. I grew up humbly and became spoiled much later. Money does that to people.”

“I'll have to take your word for that.”

“What's your story, sweet Mary from Vermont?”

She felt her face flush from the compliment as much as the way he looked at her. “Not much of a story. I grew up in Stowe and moved over here to the Northeast Kingdom to work on the mountain after college at UVM. I took a part-time job at the store that led to the office manager position about fifteen years ago.”

“Never been married?”

“Nope. Never even came close.”

“How's that possible? Are all the men in Vermont blind?”

“You are a charmer, Patrick,” she said with a laugh. “I'll give you that.”

“My daughter told me to leave you alone. She said you were too nice for the likes of me.”

“The likes of you? That doesn't sound like her.”

“Maybe not, but it's true. Since my wife died, I haven't exactly been Prince Charming when it comes to women.”

“What happened to your wife?” Mary immediately regretted the question that caused a flash of pain to register in his eyes. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that. It's none of my business.”

“It's no secret that she died having Cam.”

“Oh God, Patrick. I didn't know that. I'm so sorry for both of you.”

“Thanks.” He used the stirrer to swirl the chunk of lemon around in his drink. “Cameron wore her mother's dress today. Surprised the hell out of me with that.”

“In a good way?”

“Yeah. It was good, but it was hard, too. She looks so much like her mother. It's uncanny. The older she gets, the more she's Ali all over again.” He took a sip of his drink. “Anyway, didn't mean to get maudlin.”

“You didn't. It was an emotional day for you.”

“Much more so than I'd expected it to be. Not sure what I thought it would be like to see her all decked out as a bride and then have to give her away . . . Whose big idea was that nonsense, anyway? Raise this little girl her whole life and then ‘give her away' to some other guy? How is that fair?”

Mary laughed at his mini diatribe.

“In fact, I really have no right to be so indignant. I was a lousy father to her.”

“Don't say that.”

“It's true. I traveled a lot, left her with nannies. She was always well cared for, but I was absent much of the time. It was easier that way. For me, anyway. I wish I had it to do over again.”

“Would you have done it differently?”

“Oh, hell yeah. But losing Ali suddenly the way I did . . . It messed me up pretty bad. By the time I started to come out of the fog and took a look around me, Cam was ten and no longer cried when I left on business trips.” He shrugged. “I screwed up every which way, and she loves me anyhow. Go figure.”

“She's a wonderful person, Patrick. You can certainly be proud of her.”

“I'm extremely proud of her. Everything she's accomplished she's done on her own. She could've turned into another Paris Hilton if she'd been so inclined.”

Mary shook her head. “That would never be Cam. She's too ambitious.”

“Always was, even when she was a kid and struggling in school. She found out later she had attention deficit disorder, which made me feel like shit because I used to ride her about her lousy grades. It never occurred to me that it could be something like that. Ali would've been all over it, and I was oblivious. I wouldn't have even known she had ADD, but I saw her take her meds one day and asked her what they were for. Talk about a slap to the face for dear old dad.” He seemed to snap out of his melancholy all of a sudden and shook his head. “Anyway, didn't mean to turn this into a pity party. I never talk about this crap. What is it about you that makes me want to confess my sins to you?”

“Perhaps it's easier with a new friend who hasn't known you all these years.”

“Perhaps that's it, or maybe it's just you, and you're sweet and easy to talk to.”

Mary had no idea how to respond to such blatant flirting. She was woefully out of practice with such things.

“Have you ever been to New York, sweet Mary from Vermont?”

“No, I haven't.”

“You should come down sometime. See the sights, take in a show.”

“That would be fun.”

“When do you want to come?”

“Patrick . . .”

“What?”

“I thought we were talking hypothetically.”

“I wasn't. I was actually ham-handedly inviting you to come visit me in New York. In fact, I'd love it if you came to visit me so I could show you my city.”

“Oh, well . . . I don't know. I'd have to think about that.”

“While you do your thinking, could I possibly have your phone number so I could call you to try to persuade you to accept my invitation?”

“I suppose that would be all right.”

“Excellent.” He withdrew his smart phone from the inside pocket of his suit coat and began poking at it. “What's the number?”

She recited her phone number and watched him program it into his phone.

“There we go.” He showed her the screen, where she was listed as
Sweet Mary from Vermont
. “I assume that's a landline in this cell-phone wasteland?”

“You assume correctly. I don't have a cell phone. No point to it around here.”

Patrick shook his head in dismay. “It's like an alternate universe.”

“Nope, it's just Vermont.”

“Thanks for listening to me just now. It's been quite a day, and it helped to talk it out.”

“I was happy to listen, and I enjoyed today very much. We've all come to love Cameron, and the two of them together are just perfect. Will is a really, really good guy, Patrick. The best of the best.”

“I know,” he said glumly. “She had to pick a prince among men so I can't even hate him for taking my little girl away from me.”

“You're a mess.”

Laughing, he said, “Yes, I am.” He reached for her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “But I'm less of a mess than I would've been without you to talk to, so thank you for that.”

Mary was still recovering from the zing of sensation that had traveled from her hand up her arm and couldn't seem to form a reply to that statement.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“You're not supposed to ask a woman that,” she said with pretend indignation.

“All right then . . . I'm fifty-four. Are you too young for me?”

“I'm probably too old for you at forty-two.”

“That is a little outside my usual range,” he said with a wink. “But I've been thinking lately that it might be time to grow up and act my age.”

“And when did this startling revelation take place?”

“This past Thursday afternoon. Around two o'clock. I met this sweet woman in Vermont who has me wondering what it might be like to get to know her better. What do you say to that?”

“I say,” Mary began haltingly, “you're very nice and very charming and way, way,
way
out of my league.”

“What's that mean?” His brows furrowed with what seemed to be genuine puzzlement. “Out of your league?”

“Your world and mine—two different planets. I wouldn't even know how to function in yours.”

“I've just functioned for days in yours. Even lived without a cell-phone connection, and the world didn't end. I bet you could exist in my world just as easily. Hell, look at Colton. He's living between here and New York now and figuring it out as he goes.”

Mary glanced at his handsome face and decided to level with him. “I've lived my whole life without having my heart broken. I think you, Patrick Murphy, could break my heart if I let you, so I'm not going to let you.”

“If that's true, then you, Mary Larkin, are long overdue for a little adventure in your life.”

“Maybe so, but I'd prefer to chalk this up to one lovely evening spent with a new friend—the father of another new friend—and call it a night.”

“We can call it a night if you'd like, but don't forget I've got your number now. So I'll be calling
you
some other night. Will you take my call?”

“I don't know.”

“That's fair enough, but you won't blame a guy for trying, will you?”

“No, I won't.”

He smiled at her and finished his drink in one last swallow. “Shall we head out? I have no idea what my curfew is at the barn.”

“I'm sure they haven't locked you out—yet.”

Mary was much more aware of that hand on her lower back leaving the bar than she'd been on the way in. Fortunately, she didn't see anyone she knew in the inn, so she wasn't worried about gossip. Besides, it might be fun to be the source of gossip for once.

Even though she was driving, he held the car door for her and waited for her to get settled before he went around to the passenger side of her nondescript sedan. Her entire life was somewhat nondescript when it came right down to it. Not that she was unhappy. Not at all. But Patrick had dangled something in front of her tonight that looked awfully good to her—adventure.

“You're thinking about whether you'll take my call, aren't you?”

“Don't flatter yourself.”

His ringing laughter brought a reluctant smile to her face. “I do like you, sweet Mary from Vermont.”

She drove slowly across the one-lane bridge that led to the Abbotts' home on Hells Peak Road.

“What do you do if someone is coming the other way?”

“You wait.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

“Not used to waiting for anything, are you?”

“Not so much.”