'And I didn't mean to freak you out with a Shakespearean tragedy, either,' he said grimly. 'I started out wrong. Sorry. Rewind. Let me try this again. So Dad and the four of us lived way out in the hills behind Endicott Falls. Don't know if you're familiar with the area.'
She nodded. 'I know Endicott Falls. Cindy goes to college there.'
'I see. So anyhow, when Mom died, my dad went kind of nuts. He was a Vietnam vet, and I don't think the war experience did a lot for his mental stability to begin with. But when he lost her, he lost his grip. He home- schooled us, since the school bus didn't get within twenty miles of our place. Dad's curriculum was very… personalized.'
He stopped, surprised. Usually he avoided talking about his strange childhood. The inevitable stupid questions and snap judgments irritated him. But the glow of interest in Erin's eyes made it easier.
'Dad was convinced that the end of civilization was at hand,' he went on. 'He was preparing us for the breakdown of the world order. So, along with reading and writing and math, it was hand-to-hand combat, social and political history, gardening, hunting, tracking. We learned how to build a lethal bomb out of ordinary stuff. How to dry meat, tan skins, eat grubs, sew up a wound. Everything a guy might need to know after the crash. Survival in the midst of anarchy.'
'That's amazing,' she said.
He dug into his steak. 'A social worker came out to check on us once. Dad hid us in the woods, told her he'd sent us to live with his folks in upstate New York. Then he told her what was in store for her after the crash. Traumatized the poor woman. She ran away.'
'What did you and your brothers think of all this?'
He shrugged. 'Dad was a charismatic guy. Very convincing. And we were so isolated, no TV, no radio. Dad didn't want us brainwashed by mass media. For a long time we bought the whole story. But then Davy decided he wanted to go to high school. Told Dad he was going on a recon mission into enemy territory, but he was just desperate to meet some girls.' He smiled at the memory; then his smile faded. 'That was close to the end for Dad. He had a stroke later that year.'
She reached across the table and placed her hand on his. Electricity sparked, and she jerked her hand back with a soft murmur.
He stared down at his hand, wishing she had left hers on top of it. 'That's probably what Ed was referring to,' he said. 'Blending in, after growing up on another planet. You learn survival skills quick.'
'So what happened when your father died?' she asked.
'We buried him out there on the land. I don't think that's legal, but we didn't know that. Davy got a job at the mill. We stuck together until I got through high school, and then Davy joined the Navy and I took over at the mill.' He shrugged. 'We got on with it.'
'How old were you when he died?'
'Davy was eighteen, I was sixteen. Kevin and Sean were twelve.'
Erin bit her lip. She was getting teary-eyed. It alarmed him.
'Look, you don't have to feel sorry for me,' he assured her. 'It was a strange way to grow up, but not a bad one. It was a beautiful place. I had my brothers for company. I don't regret learning what Dad taught us. If Mom hadn't died, I would've called myself lucky.'
She mopped her eyes, a quick, furtive gesture, and smiled at him. 'What was she like?' she asked.
He thought about it for a moment. 'I was really small when she died,' he said. 'I've lost a lot of details. But I remember her laughing. My dad was a silent, moody type, but she could make him laugh. She was the only one who could. After she died, he never laughed again.'
'How did she…' Her voice trailed off. 'Uh, sorry,' she murmured. 'Never mind. I didn't mean to—'
'Tubal pregnancy,' he said. 'We were too far from the hospital. It was January. Three feet of snow. She bled to death.'
She looked down and lifted her napkin to her mouth.
'I'm OK,' he said helplessly. Christ, he hadn't meant to make her cry. 'Don't get all worked up. It was almost thirty years ago.'
She sniffed, and looked up at him with a soggy, embarrassed laugh. Her golden brown eyes were swimming with tears.
He didn't decide to do it, it just happened. He reached out to touch the fine-textured skin of her cheek, capturing the tear on his finger. He lifted his hand to his lips and tasted it.
A salty drop of distilled compassion.
The hunger simmering in his body roared up into something huge. She swayed away from him, her tear-bright eyes wide with feminine caution. There was a clatter, a spreading wetness. His hands had clenched on the tablecloth, knocking over a long-stemmed water glass. 'Whoa,' he muttered. He threw his napkin on top of the puddle. 'Sorry about that.'
'It's all right,' she whispered.
They took a time-out, concentrating on the food left on their plates. Forks clinking in the heavy silence made him think of his father. Eamon McCloud had not tolerated frivolous chatter at the table. He had believed in keeping your mouth shut unless you had something relevant to say. Davy was almost as taciturn as Dad had been, but that mandatory silence had been pure hell on Sean, the born chatterbox.
But Erin hadn't been raised by Eamon McCloud. She didn't know how to cope with enormous silences like he did. She took a deep breath and tried again. 'So, what are your brothers like?' she asked brightly.
Her determination made him smile. 'They're unique.'
'I don't doubt it,' she said fervently. 'Are they married?'
'No,' he said. 'Davy was married once, back when he was in the service. We only knew about it because he got drunk one night and told us in a moment of weakness. She made a big impression on him, though. He doesn't want another wife ever again. Davy never learned how to have fun. He had little brothers to look after when he should've been out raising hell, and as soon as I was old enough to look after Sean and Kevin, he got shipped out to the Persian Gulf. The world according to Davy is a grim, dangerous place.'
'And Sean?' she prompted. 'What's he like?'
Connor smiled. 'The polar opposite of Davy. He's a basket case, but in a good way. He's got a wild streak, and he's too handsome for his own good. A chick magnet since he was thirteen. Incredibly smart, like Davy, but he's got some problems with impulse control. And he gets into serious trouble when he's bored. The world according to Sean is a big playground, and everything in it is a joke. What are you smiling at?'
'You,' she said. 'I can see how much you love your brothers from the way you describe them.'
He stared down at his plate, wondering what the hell a guy was supposed to say after a comment like that.
Erin propped her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers together under her chin. 'So if the world according to Davy is grim and dangerous, and the world according to Sean is a playground, then what's the world according to Connor?'
He finished off the last swallow of beer, his eyes fixed on her lush, gleaming lips. 'The vote's not in on that yet.'
The waitress arrived and started collecting their dishes. 'The special dessert tonight is fresh baked Dutch apple pie with homemade vanilla ice cream,' she informed them.
They looked at each other. 'Go for it,' Connor said.
'Only if you do,' she replied.
Connor grinned at the waitress. 'Two,' he said.
The pie proved to be delicious. The apples were tangy and sweet and buttery, the crust was crisp and crumbling, blending with the melting ice cream into a goopy, fabulous mess.
Erin closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure every time she puckered her beautiful lips around the dessert spoon, sucking it so it came out of her mouth hot and shiny clean, polished. Everything about her was turning him on, every little innocuous thing.
And it was going to get worse. He was going to see her in her nightgown. He was going to watch her sleep. See her tousled and sleep-flushed in the morning. He was going to press his face into her sheets when she went into the bathroom. Inhale her scent, absorb her warmth as he pictured the water streaming down over her soft, curvy body.
