* * *
Connor stood on the staircase outside of Heather’s door, his son sound asleep in his arms, and waited for Heather to answer. When she did, he nearly swallowed his tongue.
Her hair was tousled, the way it usually was after sex. Her cheeks glowed the same way, too. Her lips even looked plumped up, as if she’d been soundly kissed recently. And she was wearing next to nothing—a silky robe he’d never seen her wear before. It barely came to midthigh, and she wore not one single thing underneath, unless his eyes were deceiving him.
“What the hell have you been doing?” he demanded, wondering if she had some man hidden away in the bedroom. “You shouldn’t come to the door looking like that.”
“Like what?” she asked, her expression innocent.
“As if you’ve spent the afternoon making love,” he said irritably. “That’s how. Should I take our son around to Sally’s until you can get yourself dressed and get rid of whoever’s in there with you?”
To his shock, she laughed.
“I am not amused,” he informed her.
“Perhaps not, but you obviously have a very vivid imagination,” she said, holding the door open wider. “Take a look. No men here.”
“Then why do you look like that? Did you see me coming and shoo whoever it was out the door?”
She gave him a bland look. “Why are you so worked up over this, Connor? You and I are over. What I do doesn’t concern you.”
“Of course it concerns me,” he snapped, his voice rising.
“Why?”
“Because I still love you, dammit!”
“Nice to hear,” she said, as if he’d merely complimented her lipstick. “But actions speak louder than words. I know you understand that because you use it in court all the time. It’s part of your standard strategy for putting the women on the stand in their place.”
Connor frowned at her. “What’s gotten into you today? We had a perfectly civil conversation last night. In fact, I thought we were getting along better than we had in a while.”
“I thought so, too,” she admitted. “And then you came over here just now, making assumptions and hurling accusations at me about my behavior.”
He drew in a deep breath. Apologizing didn’t come easily to him, though lately it seemed he’d done more than his share of it. “Sorry. I overreacted. I just saw you and went a little crazy.” He wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but he thought he detected a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. “That’s exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asked suspiciously.
She held her fingers a scant inch apart. “Maybe just a little,” she admitted.
“We have to stop this game we’re playing,” he said eventually. “One of these days one of us will do or say something and ruin what little we have left between us.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Our friendship and respect.” He met her gaze. “I don’t want that, Heather. We have to think of little Mick.”
Her expression sobered then, too. “I agree. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. Next time you’re in town, I’ll be on my friendliest behavior.”
“Why doesn’t that entirely reassure me?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I meant it to. When will you be back? It may take me awhile to adopt more appropriate behavior.”
Connor thought about it. Though he wanted to see his son—wanted to see Heather, as well, to be honest about it—something told him that the distance he’d sought last night wasn’t nearly far enough. He needed to keep miles between them for the time being.
“I’ll let you know,” he said eventually. Weeks might not do it. Months might be smarter.
She reached out and took little Mick from his arms, then met his gaze. “Don’t make it too long, okay? He’ll miss you.”
He sighed heavily. “That works both ways. Maybe Abby can bring him up to Baltimore and drop him off for a weekend.”
There was a flicker of disappointment in her eyes, but she nodded. “Just say the word and I’ll make it happen,” she promised agreeably.
Though there were a lot of words on the tip of his tongue, things he wanted to say but knew he shouldn’t, Connor turned and walked away. Unlike so many times when they’d parted, for some reason this time felt a whole lot more like goodbye.
* * *
“What is wrong with that son of ours?” Mick grumbled when Megan told him that once again Connor wasn’t coming home for the weekend. He’d been avoiding Chesapeake Shores for the past month.
“He’s stubborn, that’s what’s wrong,” Megan said. “He’s too proud to admit that he misses Heather and that he’s made a dreadful mistake.”
“How the devil are we going to fix this?” Mick asked.
“I don’t know that you can,” his mother said as she sipped a cup of tea while the three of them sat at the kitchen table on a Friday morning. “Connor’s a grown man and a father. It’s time he figures things out for himself.”
“At this rate, his son will be a grown man himself before Connor comes to his senses,” Mick retorted.
“Nell’s right,” Megan said. “Our meddling will only make things worse. Let’s just concentrate on supporting Heather and our grandson in whatever ways we can.”
Mick shook his head. “That’s not good enough. We discussed a strategy a while back. I say it’s time to implement it.”
Megan frowned. “Are you talking about trying to lure Connor into moving back to town? I’m still not so sure about that, Mick. I’m afraid he’d be miserable practicing law here.”
To Mick’s surprise, his mother looked intrigued by the idea. “Joshua Porter’s bound to retire one of these days,” Nell said, immediately putting two and two together. “He’s been making noises about it for years. Maybe I could give him a little push, suggest that the timing is right and the perfect person to bring into his practice is available.”
Mick cast a triumphant look toward Megan. “Exactly what I was thinking. Connor could step right in and take over for Joshua. Whether my son knows it or not, this
