Deep down, she knew that mental reassurance wasn’t entirely correct. Darin’s death had left an empty hole in her life, but this current feeling of longing, while not wholly unfamiliar, was not something she associated to her late husband. Darin and she had been the best of friends, entirely comfortable with one another. Their sex life had been good. They’d both been young and healthy and eager to express their love for each other physically.
But still, what she’d experienced with Darin had felt…controllable. There was no sense of tumbling dangerously head over heels or potentially sacrificing too much. She knew he would leave her while he was on duty for extended periods of time. She knew how dangerous his work was as an Army Ranger. She’d mentally prepared herself for periods apart from him, although who could totally prepare themselves for that final, most difficult separation?
Darin’s death had been hard—beyond hard—but she’d endured.
She hated to admit it to herself, but since his death, part of her had been glad she hadn’t been in that wild, fevered, impassioned kind of love with Darin. How could she have survived after his death if she’d surrendered every last shred of herself?
Following her father’s death, Colleen had been desperate for stability and certainty. The known world of her family life had suddenly crumbled. Her once respected and adored father was dead, maligned by the press and townspeople. Her sister, Deidre, left Harbor Town, never to return.
When she’d met Darin at nineteen, she’d immediately been attracted to his easy charm, amiable personality, and desire and ability to care for her unconditionally. She’d loved Darin. Part of her always would. But they hadn’t shared the deep, passionate connection she observed between Marc and Mari or Liam and Natalie.
But you’d thought your parents shared that same respect and passion, the niggling voice in her head said. Look what was hiding in the dusty, dark corners of that seemingly ideal relationship: infidelity, lies, secrets…
She slammed the cupboard door closed with a bang, willing the troublemaking voice in her head to shut up.
Around midnight Colleen said her goodbyes to the last guests and shut the front door. Eric, Mari and Marc insisted they wanted to help her clean up, but she protested, shooing them out the door. She’d prefer to attack things in the morning. Colleen couldn’t keep her mother from staying, though. Fortunately, the babysitter watching Brendan, Jenny, and Marc and Mari’s daughter, Riley, at her mother’s house had been hired to stay overnight and well into the morning. Together they made a good dent in the cleanup.
When Brigit finally left at close to 1:00 a.m., Colleen breathed a sigh of relief. She rubbed her neck as she walked down the dim hallway, feeling exhausted but happy. The party had been a success. It’d been a long day, and it was late. The thought of getting out of her heels and diving into bed was enticing.
She started and paused when she heard a tap on the front door. She hurried back and flipped on the front porch light.
“Did you forget something,” she asked as she opened the door, halting when she saw it wasn’t her mother, but Eric. He’d changed out of his suit. He stood on her small front porch, hands in his front pockets. He looked just as appealing in jeans, T-shirt and a casual jacket than he had in his well-cut, expensive suit. She shoved the thought aside.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, stunned.
“I started to feel bad about leaving when there was still stuff to be done.”
“Don’t be silly,” she admonished. “Everything is all cleaned up. There’s nothing left to do but go to bed.”
The silence seemed to swell and press on her eardrums in the seconds that followed. Colleen mentally replayed what she’d just said and blushed.
“I really didn’t come over to help you clean up,” he suddenly said.
She crossed her arms under her breasts, trepidation causing her backbone to straighten. “You didn’t?”
He shook his head, holding her stare. “I wanted to talk to you about something. Do you mind?” he asked, nodding toward her family room.
She sighed and opened the door all the way. She minded all right, but not because she was tired. Her fatigue had melted out of her during some point while Eric and she regarded each other silently, only to be replaced by a nervous sort of anticipation. He followed her down the hallway into her family room. She paused in front of the fireplace and turned to face him. “What is it?” she asked.
He nodded toward the couch. “Why don’t you sit down? You must be tired. You were on the move all night, and those heels don’t look very foot friendly.” She shifted self-consciously when she noticed his appreciative glance at her stiletto-clad feet.
“I’m fine standing,” she said, even though her feet ached like crazy. “What did you need to talk to me about?” she asked, not at all sure she wanted to hear his answer.
Eric studied her before he answered. Colleen was always beautiful, but tonight she looked sinful in an emerald-green dress and a pair of sexy, strappy black leather heels. He hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her legs all night. Or the bounce of her lush, golden hair…or her pink lips…or the way the clinging fabric of her dress emphasized the shape of her breasts, her hips, her…
He cleared his throat and took a step toward her, resting one of his hands on the mantel.
“I’m getting the impression our plan isn’t going to work,” he said.
“You’re not going to start lecturing me about Janice Tejada, are you? I’m not going to apologize for what I said to her. I’m a therapist. I have to rely on instinct, and my instinct told me at that moment I should say what I said.”
He raised one eyebrow. “But your instinct also tells you Liam and Natalie are rushing into things,” he pointed out.
“Your scheme isn’t going to work. Not because I disagree about Natalie and Liam being rash, but because—”
“It’s none of our business,” Eric finished for her, already having come to the same conclusion.
“Exactly.”