The Determined Groom

“This was Madeleine’s favorite place in the whole world, this house and the gardens and beach. She wanted us to retire here,” Charles confided. “I know that’s why Laurel wanted the party here tonight. To feel closer to her mother, as if Madeleine had a part in the wedding plans. I’ve hardly been back since she died.” He paused and took a long swallow of his drink. “I don’t know. Maybe it was a good thing, opening up the house like this, having this party here. Perhaps it will help us all to put the past to rest somehow,” he added, meeting Connor’s gaze.

“Yes, a good thing,” Connor agreed sympathetically. He could not help but notice the glassy, unshed tears in Charles Sutherland’s eyes. He still missed his wife. Missed her with all his heart. That was love, Connor thought. Untouched by time or separation. Even the ultimate separation.

Would he ever know that kind of love for a woman? You could feel that way about Laurel, another voice answered. Maybe you already do.

“Well, enough of this glum and gloomy talk,” Charles replied with a forced, bright smile. He patted Connor jovially on the back. “It’s time we talked about your future, young man. Tell me more about this job you’re starting. Monday, is it?”

“Yes, sir. Monday morning. Bright and early,” Connor replied, flattered that Charles remembered about his job when the man obviously had so many more pressing matters on his mind.

“You’ll do fine. The organization is lucky to have you,” he assured Connor in a fatherly tone. “Oh, and before I forget, there are a few people here I’d like you to meet. Good connections for you down in the city. Now, Ralph Walters over there is an investment banker, a big wheel with Morgan Stanley…”

Connor allowed Charles to lead him into the crowd and was introduced to a few of his host’s influential friends. Charles’s introductions were always glowing, recounting Connor’s achievements and bright prospects to a point that was a breath away from embarrassing. But Connor knew that Charles’s enthusiasm was always well meant. In fact, he could not help but feel as if the older man was proudly introducing his own son.

Heaven knew, he’d never had an ounce of such encouragement from his own father. Owen Northrup had always denigrated Connor’s ambitions to attend college. More reaching beyond his station in life, was the way Owen saw it. Sure to lead to disappointment and humiliation. As Connor grew older he came to see that his father’s criticism, and even suspicion, of his academic achievements was really due to the fact that Owen felt threatened and surpassed by a son who would outgrow his family and make a life for himself far away from the Cape.

After conversing with Charles’s Wall Street friends, Connor wandered around the party, waiting for the chance to speak with Laurel again. He caught a glimpse of her now and then, but it never seemed the right moment to approach her.

Finally, the guests began to leave and the crowd thinned. The party was ending. Connor felt self-conscious and could linger no longer. He saw his chance to say goodbye privately to Laurel and swiftly approached her. He felt confused, overwhelmed, his mind whirling with so many possible things he might say to her. Would she meet him tomorrow if he asked?

He approached her as she stood with her back turned. “Laurel, I just wanted to say good-night….” His voice trailed off as she spun to face him.

Her beautiful face, her soft smile, the tender light in her eye as she met his gaze overwhelmed him. Connor felt himself blown away. All coherent thoughts about what to say next escaped him.

“I’ve been looking for you. I thought you left without saying goodbye.”

She took a step toward him and lightly touched his sleeve. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk more. There were so many people. I felt like a tennis ball, bouncing from one group to the next….” She shook her head and laughed.

“I understand,” Connor cut in. From the way it had looked to him, it was more like Todd pulling her around from group to group, like so much baggage. More than once, it had seemed to Connor that Laurel wanted a break from socializing, but Todd had forced her to press on. He didn’t care if the man was her fiancé, Connor didn’t like the way Todd Parson treated Laurel. She deserved so much better.

On impulse, he reached out and took her hand. She seemed surprised but pleased, and he felt the slight, answering pressure of her fingers responding to his. “I was wondering if you had any free time tomorrow. Maybe we could get together, have some coffee in town…maybe at that place with the fishnets on the ceiling? Do they still make their own doughnuts?”

“Sorry, that place went upscale. You can probably get a cappuccino and croissants, but they don’t serve a good old, down-to-earth doughnut anymore,” she reported wistfully.

“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t we go down to the beach near the landing? You know, where the sailboat ran into the rocks,” Connor continued. There were so many special places he wanted to visit again with Laurel.

“Please, don’t remind me,” she laughed, and covered her mouth with her hand. “I was at the helm, remember. You were so sweet not to get angry with me about wrecking your boat,” she teased him. “And so brave getting us back to shore.”

“It was fun being shipwrecked with you.” His reply was teasing and light. But his voice husky and rough.

As his dark gaze met hers and their bodies leaned a slight, but significant degree, closer, the moment suddenly changed to something far more intense, charged with the energy of their powerful attraction.

“I would love to see you tomorrow,” Laurel said finally in a velvety, hushed voice. Her words and the way she gently squeezed his hand made his soul sing.

But just as she agreed to grant his heart’s desire, Phillip appeared out of nowhere. “Better call it a night, Laurel. Don’t you remember, you and Todd promised to come sailing tomorrow with me and Liza and her folks. Liza will be around to pick us up at seven, sharp. You won’t be able to get up in time if you don’t get some sleep,” he whined.

“Oh, that’s right.” Laurel shook her head regretfully. “I do have plans, I guess. Maybe we won’t be back that late though,” she added hopefully.

Before Connor could reply, Phillip cut in again. “I wouldn’t bet on it. Liza’s father plans on sailing to some friends’ house on the Vineyard.”

Sounded as if they wouldn’t get home until late tomorrow night. Especially if Phillip had anything to say about it. He was hovering over Laurel right now like a guard dog. Todd Parson’s guard dog, Connor surmised. Those two probably got along well, cut from the same cloth.

“Well, some other time then,” Connor said. He stared down at Laurel, his gaze conveying so much more than his polite words.

“Yes, some other time,” she agreed, the regretful note in her voice cutting at his heart. “I’ll be in the city soon. Maybe we can have lunch.”

“Sure thing.” Connor nodded. He swallowed back his disappointment. “Your father knows how to get in touch with me.”

It was the polite thing to say, he knew. But it would never happen. Even if it did, by the time their next meeting came about, Laurel would most likely be Mrs. Todd Parson—and beyond his reach. Connor knew it would hurt too much to see her again after she married.

“Well, looks like it’s hello and goodbye,” Phillip said to Connor. “Bet it brought back memories for you, coming here.”

“It did,” Connor replied evenly. Though not all of them pleasant, he did not add. “Good night, Phillip,” he said.

Then turning to Laurel, he gazed into her eyes and smiled. “Thanks for our dance,” he said in a voice for her alone. She smiled at him, but before she could reply, he leaned down and quickly, lightly kissed her cheek. “Good luck, Laurel. I’m sorry I didn’t come home to visit sooner,” he added. “I would have given Parson a run for his money.”

“Good night, Connor….” He felt Laurel’s fleeting touch and heard her voice trail off as he continued to move away from her.

He strode across the patio with determined steps, weaving his way around the hired help who were now busily cleaning up the party debris. Finally, he was away from the bright lights, on a path through the garden that led to the front grounds, where he had parked his car.

The darkness and sudden quiet offered some comfort. He felt numb and empty. He felt as if his heart was breaking. How could he leave her? How could he just go without letting her know how he felt? This was his last chance. His only chance.

Still, he did not see that there was anything more he could do.

Maybe it was all for the best, Connor thought as he saw the lights at the end of the path. She didn’t feel the same. The thought stung painfully, and yet, it had to be true.

If she did feel the same—if she felt even half of what he felt for her right now—she would have given him some sign. She would have figured out some way to see him again. Even if she had to sail to the Vineyard tomorrow.

Even if she had to sail to China.

Was he fooling himself? Did he merely want what he couldn’t have? He didn’t think so. He wasn’t that way about women usually. He wouldn’t be that way about Laurel.

Laurel. Just as he’d come to realize what she meant to him, she was snatched out of reach. God, it hurt so much.

How long would he feel like this? Months, probably. Years, maybe.

Forever?

Connor found his car, one of the few left at the end of the long curving driveway. Even the valets, hired for the night, had gone home by now. His vision blurred, he fumbled in his pocket for the keys, then dropped his key ring on the gravel. Damn, he wasn’t actually crying, was he? He hadn’t cried since…he couldn’t remember when.

He brushed his hand across the back of his damp eyes and took a deep, calming breath. He had to get away from here. He had to get off the Cape tomorrow, as early as possible. Maybe he’d pack up the car when he got home, rest a few hours and leave at dawn. Before Laurel even met up with her sailing party.

Deep in thought, Connor did not hear the light footsteps running down the driveway toward him. He didn’t notice a sound until Laurel stood just steps away.

“Connor…wait,” she called to him in a breathless, urgent whisper.

He turned and saw her, running toward him. He moved to meet her and instinctively opened his arms, his hands coming to rest on her slim waist. She stepped into his embrace, placing her hands on his broad chest and, for a moment, as she caught her breath, leaned her head down so that it fit just under his chin. He felt his lips and cheek brush against her silky hair before she lifted her head again. Thankfully, she did not move away.

“Laurel, what it is? What’s the matter?”