She had a sexy voice, a Norah Jones, whiskey-in-a-dark-nightclub sound that skidded across Boone’s nerves. He stood in the hallway just out of sight and waited for her to finish the song about a mockingbird that he recognized as one his cousin Jackson used to sing to his baby daughter.
Jackson, a renowned singer-songwriter, would like Hannah’s voice. Bet he could write a song that suited her. Propelled by a sudden urge, Boone set down the drinks, turned, and quickly made his way to the staircase, headed for the entertainment room on the second floor. Three minutes later, he was back with his acoustic guitar. The three McBride cousins had passed many hours picking out songs on guitars. Jackson could play rings around Boone and Tucker, but Boone wasn’t exactly a slouch. He could hold his own making music with Hannah Dupree.
Hannah had finished the mockingbird song and was now singing the first verse of “Baby Mine.” Boone knew this one because Jackson had sung it to Haley too. Boone joined her at the chorus, moving to stand in the doorway and lean against the jamb as he played.
Bree had finished her bottle, and she lay against Hannah’s shoulder as Hannah patted her back. Hannah’s voice skipped a few beats while Boone continued to play, and he wondered if she would stop singing. She did not, but finished the song and moved on to another, a beautiful, haunting Irish lullaby.
By the time she finished that song, tears were rolling down Hannah’s face. Oh, sweetheart. Boone felt confident that she’d been thinking about her girls. Regret washed over him. She’d told him that being around the baby would be painful for her.
He’d been damned insensitive leaning on her this way. It was torture for her. He should have realized it. Damn, he’d been selfish and blind to her pain. Shame on me.
When the last notes of the final chorus faded away, she didn’t start another song. Boone set his guitar aside as she rose from the rocker, carried Brianna to her crib, and lay her down. Then, staring at the sleeping child, Hannah swiped at the tear tracks on her cheeks.
Boone placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered, “Honey, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m a jerk. I didn’t listen—”
She turned and placed her fingers against his lips, silently shushing him. Then she jerked her head toward the door, gesturing that they should leave.
He stepped aside and motioned for her to proceed, and then, after blowing Brianna a silent good-night kiss, followed Hannah from the room, exiting just in time to see her pick up one of the cognac glasses from the hall table. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see her sail right out the door with her drink. Instead, she halted in front of the fireplace in the great room, threw back her drink like it was the cheapest of rotgut whiskey, set her glass on the mantel, and turned to face him.
Pain and pique and a hint of wildness swam in her eyes as she lifted her chin and declared, “For the past three years, I’ve existed. I haven’t lived. Life is a gift, and it is a crime to waste even a second of it. I want to live again. I need to live again. Will you help me?”
“Of course. How would you like me to help? What can I do?”
“Make love to me, Boone McBride. I want you to make love to me. Now. Tonight.”
Chapter Fifteen
Hannah’s heart thudded. Her nerves fluttered. Her breaths came in shallow pants.
She’d obviously shocked him. She could see it in his eyes and in the fact that he almost dropped his drink.
She was more than a little shocked herself. She didn’t sleep with men she’d known for barely two weeks. She hadn’t slept with a man to whom she wasn’t married or engaged to be married in a decade. But she wanted Boone McBride. She wanted him rather desperately.
And unless she was positively clueless, he wanted her too.
So why was he just standing there? Why didn’t he say something? Do something? Yes, heat had flared in his eyes, turning them to molten silver, but his feet hadn’t moved. He hadn’t said a word.
When he finally moved, all he did was lift his snifter to his mouth.
Hannah almost, almost, bared her teeth and growled at him.
After about a million years, he spoke. “I want to make love to you right now more than I want to breathe.”
Whew. Okay, so she hadn’t misread him. However, there was a but coming. She could tell.
“But.”
I knew it.
“I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
Take advantage of me, please!
“This seems like a spur-of-the-moment decision and somewhat out of character for you, Hannah.”
“That’s the point! I want to change my character. My current character has no color. I have no color. I’m so over black, and gray is not much better. I shouldn’t be afraid to hold a baby, Boone. One of life’s most precious moments is rocking a newborn baby.”
“Celeste said something similar to me not too long ago.”
“She’s right!”
“She’s always right.”
“What does she say about sex?”
Boone physically took a step back. “Um, that we haven’t discussed.”
“Well, as someone who has gone without it for longer than I care to contemplate, I can assure you that sex—well, good sex, anyway—is another one of life’s precious moments. I’m confident that sex with you would be good.”
“I, uh, haven’t had any complaints.”
“I’m not ready to be a mother or a wife again, but I want to be able to cuddle and love on a little one and go to bed with a man again. I like you, Boone. I’m hot for you. I want to live! Are you going to help me or not?”
“Damn skippy, I am.”
Her breath hitched at the heat that blazed in his eyes. Setting down his drink, he crossed the room, prowling like a panther. Hannah shivered. A part of her—the dull, gray part—couldn’t believe she was doing this, but the color sizzling through her veins right now was red—bright passionate red.
Then Boone placed his hands on her hips and tugged her against him and his obvious erection, and his mouth swooped down toward hers.
And because life was all about timing, and Hannah’s timing was invariably bad, Brianna wailed.
Boone groaned.
Hannah moaned.
It was the sound of parents everywhere.
“This is so much my luck,” Hannah muttered.
Boone kissed her forehead rather than her mouth. “I think this is probably a good thing.”
“You’ve changed your mind.”
“Not at all. I’m totally on board with doing my part in welcoming you back to life. It’s gonna be my pleasure. But I think you and I will both enjoy the process more if we do this the right way.”
From the nursery came, “Waaa! Waaaa! Waaa!”
“With a babysitter?” Hannah asked.
“Absolutely. And a little romance. Romance is another one of life’s gifts. Let me romance you into my bedroom, Hannah. Let’s do this the right way. I want to give you romance.” He kissed her briefly on the mouth and added, “In addition to a mind-blowing orgasm.”
She might have whimpered just a little bit before saying, “You’d better go tend to your baby.”
“Yeah.” He stepped away.
“I’m going home.”