The Last Reilly Standing
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Maureen Child
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One
Aidan Reilly was so close to winning, he could almost taste the celebratory champagne. Okay, beer.
The longest three months of his life were coming to an end. Only three more weeks to go and he’d be the winner of the bet he and his brothers had entered into so grudgingly at the beginning of the summer.
He shuddered thinking about it, even now. Ninety days of no sex and the winner received the whole ten thousand dollars left to the Reilly triplets by their great-uncle. It was all their older brother, Father Liam Reilly’s fault. He’d waved the red flag of challenge at them, insisting that priests were way tougher than Marines—since he’d had to give up sex for life. Well, no self-respecting Reilly ever turned down a challenge. Though this one had been tougher to survive than any of them had thought.
Brian and Connor had already folded—which left Aidan alone to hold up the family honor—and make sure their older brother, Father Liam, couldn’t laugh his ass off at all of them.
It wasn’t even about the money anymore, Aidan thought, staring across their table at the Lighthouse restaurant at Liam. Their older brother wanted them all to lose the bet so he could use the money for a new roof on his church. Well, Aidan wasn’t about to tell him yet, but once he won this bet and had all of his brothers admitting that he was the strongest of the bunch then he planned on giving the money to Liam anyway.
He didn’t need it. Being a single Marine, he made enough money to support himself and that was all he cared about. He’d never entered the bet for the money.
What he wanted was to win.
He leaned back on the bench seat and avoided letting his gaze drift around the crowded restaurant. The Lighthouse was a spot favored by families, so he was pretty safe. The only women he had to worry about in here were the waitresses—and they looked too damn good for his well-being. And at that thought, he shifted his gaze back to the surface of his drink.
“Worried?” Brian muttered, lifting his glass to take a sip of beer.
“Hell no—I’m closing in on the finish line.”
“Yeah, well. You haven’t won yet.”
“Only a matter of time.” Aidan smiled, while keeping his gaze fixed on his glass of beer.
“Gotta say,” Connor admitted, leaning forward to brace his forearms on the table. “I’m impressed. Didn’t think you’d last this long.”
“I did,” Liam said, taking a drink of his own beer.
“Yeah?” Aidan lifted his gaze and grinned at his older brother, ignoring the other two—identical replicas of himself. “Because I’m the strongest, right?” he spared a quick look at his fellow triplets and sneered. “Hah.”
“Actually,” Liam said smiling, “it’s because you’ve always been the most stubborn.”
Beside him, Connor laughed and Aidan gave him a quick elbow jab. “I’ll take what I can get,” he said.
“You’ve still got three weeks to go,” Brian reminded him from his seat beside Liam. “And while Connor and I are getting regular sex from our lovely wives, you’re a man alone.”
There was that. Aidan scowled as he took a sip of his beer and made a point of keeping his gaze locked on the three men sitting with him. One glimpse of some gorgeous blonde or a curvy redhead or God help him, a pretty brunette and he’d have to go home and take yet another cold shower. Hell, he’d spent so much time in icy water lately between the showers and his work as a USMC rescue diver, he felt like a damn penguin.
“I can make it,” he said tightly.
“Three weeks is a long time,” Connor pointed out.
“I’ve already made it through nine weeks,” Aidan reminded them. Nine long, miserable weeks. But the worst was over now. He was on the downhill slide. He’d make it. Damned if he wouldn’t.
“Yeah,” Liam said with a knowing smile, “but everyone knows the last mile of the race is always the most difficult.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“Twenty-one whole days,” Liam said, making the three weeks sound even longer.
“How many hours is that?” Brian wondered.
“Man, you guys are cruel.”
“What’re brothers for?” Connor asked.
Aidan shook his head and kicked back on the bench seat. Ignoring Liam and smirking at his identical brothers, he said, “Do I have to remind you two what wusses you both were? How you both caved so easily?”
Brian grimaced and Connor shifted in his seat.
“Nope,” Aidan muttered, smiling to himself, “guess not.”
Bright and early the next morning, Terry Evans took a long look around the Frog House bookstore and told herself this would be a snap. A good change of pace. An interesting bump in the long, straight highway of her life.
Then a five-year-old boy grabbed a book away from a three-year-old girl, resulting in a howl rarely heard outside of the nature channel on TV during a documentary on coyotes.
Terry winced and smiled at the harried moms as they raced to snatch up their respective children. Oh, yeah, she thought, suddenly rethinking her generous offer to help out a friend. A snap.
There were kids all over the bookstore. No big surprise there, since the shop catered to those ten and under. Not to mention their moms.
Frog House was filled with pillow-stuffed nooks and crannies, where kids could curl up with a book while their mothers sat at the small round tables, sipping fresh coffee. The kids had a great time, exploring a place where everything was “hands on” and the moms could relax, knowing that their children couldn’t possibly get into trouble here.
Donna had wanted a kid-friendly store and she’d built a child’s fantasy. Murals of fairy tales covered the walls, and bookshelves were low enough that even the top shelf was within reach of tiny hands. There was a coloring corner, with child-size tables littered with coloring books and every color crayon imaginable. During story hour, every day at four o’clock, at least twenty kids sat on the bright rugs, listening with rapt attention to the designated reader.
Terry sighed a little and smiled as the squabbling kids settled down again, each with their own book this time. If her gaze lingered on the five-year-old boy a moment or two longer, she told herself no one but she would notice.
Her heart ached, but it was an old pain now, more familiar than startling. She’d learned to live with it. Learned that it would never really go away.
And if truth were told, she didn’t want to lose that pain. Because if she did, she would have to lose the memories that caused it and she would never allow herself to do that.
“Excuse me?”
She turned her gaze from the kids at the “play time” table that was littered with discarded coloring books and half-eaten crayons, to face…A MAN.
At first sight of him, she immediately thought of him in Capital Letters. As her temperature climbed, she took a second or two to check him out completely. Tall, easily over six feet, he wore a black T-shirt with USMC stamped on the left side of his impressive chest.
Not surprising to find a Marine standing in the shop. After all, Baywater, South Carolina, was just a short drive down the road from Parris Island, the Marine Corps Recruit Depot—not to mention the Marine Corps Air Station in Beaufort.
But this Marine had her complete attention.
The Man’s muscles rippled beneath the soft, worn fabric of his shirt and when he folded his arms across his chest, she nearly applauded the move. His waist was narrow, hips nonexistent and his long legs were hugged by worn, threadbare jeans. The hem of those jeans stacked up on the top of his battered cowboy boots.
Oh, my.
She lifted her gaze to his face and felt her internal temperature spike another ten points. Black hair, unfortunately militarily short, ice-blue eyes, a squared off jaw and a straight nose that could have come off a Roman coin. Then he smiled and she saw gorgeous white teeth and a dimple, God help her, in his right cheek.
Did it suddenly get hot in there?
“Hello?” He lifted one hand and snapped his fingers in front of her face. “You okay?”
Minor meltdown, she wanted to say, but for a change, Terry wisely kept her mouth shut. For a second. “Sorry. What can I do for you?”
He gave her a slow smile that notched up the heat in her southern regions and she groaned inwardly. She’d walked into that one. Figured he was a man who could take a simple statement and make it sound like an invitation to sweaty sheets.
“Can I help you?” She shook her head. This wasn’t getting any better.
Finally, though, he quit smiling, stepped up closer to her and looked around the bookstore as if searching for something in particular. “Can you tell me where Donna Fletcher is?” he asked, shifting his gaze back to hers.
Terry checked her wristwatch, then looked up at him again. “Right now, she’s about halfway to Hawaii.”
“Already?” He looked stunned. “She didn’t tell me she was leaving early.”
One of Terry’s perfectly arched, dark blond eyebrows lifted. “Was there some special reason she should?”
He scraped one hand across his square jaw. “Suppose not,” he admitted, then blew out a breath. “It’s just that I’m supposed to be doing a project for her and—”
Realization dawned. Actually, Terry felt as if she were in a cartoon and someone had just penciled in a lightbulb over her head. “You’re Aidan Reilly.”
His gaze snapped to hers. “How’d you know that?”
She smiled, shook her hair back and told herself that she was going to have to have a long conversation with Donna one of these days.
Her very best friend had told her all about the bet that Aidan had entered into with his brothers—and that she, Donna, had offered Aidan the bookstore as a safe place to hide out from women. In exchange, of course, for Aidan agreeing to build a “reading castle” for the kids. But, she’d never mentioned that Aidan Reilly looked like a walking billboard for good sex.
Actually, exceptional sex.
Maybe even amazing, incredible, earthshaking sex.
Terry was beginning to suspect a setup.
Donna, a romantic at heart, had decided that what Terry needed was a permanent man. Someone to love. Someone to love her. The fact that Terry wasn’t interested in anything more permanent than a long weekend, didn’t really enter into Donna’s plans.
Aidan Reilly, it seemed, was the latest salvo fired in an ongoing battle.
And though Terry still wasn’t interested, she had to admit that Donna was using some first-class ammunition.
He was snapping his fingers in her face again. She reached up and swatted his hand away. “You keep doing that. It’s annoying.”
“You keep zoning out,” he said. “Even more annoying.”
Good point. “Sorry. I’m a little tired. Got in late last night and had to open the shop first thing this morning.”
“Fascinating,” Aidan replied. “Still doesn’t tell me how you know my name and why Donna didn’t tell me she was leaving three days early.”
“Donna told me your name, and by the way, I’m Terry Evans,” she said and smiled at a woman who walked up and handed her a book ready for purchase. Walking around behind the counter, Terry rang up the sale, bagged the book and handled the credit card transaction. When she’d finished, she wished the woman a good day, turned back to face Mr. Tall, Dark and Gorgeous and picked up right where she left off. “And I’m guessing she didn’t tell you she was leaving early because she didn’t think it was any of your business.”
He scowled at her and strangely enough, she found that expression even more intriguing than the flash of dimple when he smiled.
“I told her I’d take her and the kids to the airport,” he muttered. “But she wasn’t supposed to leave until Friday.”
“She got an earlier flight and grabbed it,” Terry explained with a shrug. “I took her and the kids to the airport,” she added, remembering the warm little hugs and the sticky kisses she’d received last night as the Fletcher family set off for their vacation.
He blew out a breath. “Probably good. She could use the break.”
“Yes,” Terry said. “She really can. Her folks live on Maui, you know and they’re dying to see the kids and with—“
“—Tony deployed overseas,” Aidan finished for her, “she needed to get away.”
“Yeah. Worry takes a lot out of you.” Heck, Terry wasn’t even married to Tony Fletcher and she worried about his safety. She couldn’t imagine what it was like for a Marine wife. Having to run the house, keep sane, deal with kids, all while keeping one corner of your brain saying a constant stream of prayers for your husband.
“So I’m told.”
“But,” Terry said, waggling her index finger in a “follow me” signal, “Donna told me all about your ‘problem’ before she left.”
“Is that right?”
She nodded as she stepped behind the glass case containing fresh muffins, brownies and cookies. Grabbing a tall paper cup from the stack near the espresso machine, she added, “And she told me how you like your coffee.”
He smiled again, and Terry told herself to ignore the wildly fluctuating heat barometer inside her. Seriously, though, the man was like a lightning rod. He channeled hormones and turned them into heat that simmered just under a woman’s skin. Pretty potent stuff.
“The day’s looking a little better already.”
She smiled, glanced at him, then looked away quickly—watching Aidan Reilly was not conducive to concentration. And running the complicated machine with dials and steamers and nozzles and what-chamacallits required concentration. While the steamer hissed, she risked another quick glance at him and noted that he was now leaning on the glass countertop, watching her closely.
His eyes were blue enough to swim in, she thought idly and wondered just how many women had taken that particular plunge.
“So what did Donna say, exactly?” he asked.
Clearing her throat noisily, she said, “She told me about the silly bet you and your brothers made.”
“Silly?”
“Completely.” She pulled the stainless steel pitcher of frothing milk free of the heating bars, then wiped them down with a damp towel. As she poured the hot milk into the cup, she kept talking. “She told me that she’d offered you the use of the bookstore as a sort of demilitarized zone and in return, you’re going to build a castle for the kids.”
That was how Donna had put it, anyway. She remembered the brief explanation she’d gotten only the night before.
Aidan’s a sweetie, Donna told her, packing up the last of the kids’ stuff. But he’s determined to win this stupid bet. So I told him he could hang out at the bookstore when he’s off base. It’s pretty safe there since not many single women come to the shop. And in return, he’s promised to build a “reading castle” for my littlest customers.
And I’m supposed to protect him from women? Terry asked.
Please, honey, Donna said laughing. He doesn’t need protecting. He just needs a safe zone to wait out the rest of the bet.
And you’re being so accommodating, why?
Donna closed the suitcase, then spotted a ragged blanket with more holes than fabric, sighed and opened the suitcase again to stuff Mr. Blankie inside. When she was finished, she sat on the bed and looked up at Terry. Because he’s been a good friend while Tony’s been deployed. He comes over here if I need the sink fixed or if the car takes a dump. He and Tony went through boot camp together. They’re like best friends and Aidan’s…family.
Which was why, Terry told herself, she was standing here staring into a pair of blue eyes that shone with all kinds of exciting sparks.
“Demilitarized zone, huh?” he asked. “Well, that’s one way of putting it.”
She smiled and spooned on a layer of foam before snapping a plastic lid on the coffee cup and handing it over. “Donna says you spend your time off from the base here, hiding out because most of her customers are young married moms—and therefore safe.”
He took a sip of coffee, lifted both eyebrows and nodded. “Not bad.”
“Thank you.”
“And I don’t consider it hiding out.”
“Really? What do you call it?”
“Strategic maneuvering.”
Terry smiled. “Whatever helps. So, you’ve got to last three more weeks without sex to win the bet.”
“That’s about the size of it.”
Now it was her turn to lift her brows and smile at him.
Took Aidan a minute, to catch the joke playing out in her eyes, but finally he grinned in appreciation. Not only was she gorgeous, but she had a quick, wicked mind. Normally he liked that in a woman.
But this wasn’t “normal.” This was a time when he had to stay stronger than he ever had before. And having Terry around for the next few weeks wasn’t going to make life easier.
She was still watching him, a playful smirk on her mouth. “This isn’t about size.”
“It’s always about size,” she retorted and stepped out from behind the espresso machine. “This time, it’s just about the size of your ego.”
He followed her as she walked to the kids play table and idly straightened up the mess. He tried not to notice the fall of her pale blond hair against her porcelain cheek. Just like he tried to ignore the curve of her hip or the way the hem of her skirt lifted in back as she bent over the scattered books. And he really tried not to notice her legs.
What the hell had Donna been thinking? Bringing in Terry Evans to help him stay away from sex was like lighting a fire to prevent heat.
Oh, yeah.
This was gonna work out just fine.
Scowling slightly, he said, “You don’t know me well enough to know I have an ego.”
“Please.” She gave a short laugh and looked at him over her shoulder. “Look at you. Of course you do.”
“I think that was a compliment.”
“See?” she pointed out. “Ego.”
“Touché.”
She gave him a brief, elegant nod.
He watched while she wiped up a crayon mess and when she straightened and tossed her hair back from her face, he said, “So you’re going to help me win the bet, huh?”
“You got it.”
“How?”
She smiled and he felt the powerful slam of it hit him like a sledgehammer.
“Why, First Sergeant Reilly, if some gorgeous woman shows up, I’ll just throw myself on you like you were a live grenade.”
He looked her up and down slowly, completely. Then he shook his head. “Terry Evans…that kind of help and I’m a dead man.”
