All I Want Is You Read online

  “Mr. O’Flynn, did you cut yourself through the gloves?”

  Gregori’s alarmed shout reached her behind the curtain.

  Her stomach knotted.

  I may want to kill Connor but I don’t want him to hurt himself helping me.

  “I’ll get the first-aid kit,” she called, swooping it out of a drawer.

  When she reached him, Connor was sucking on his index finger.

  “What are you doing?” She fell to her knees beside him and took a sterile wipe out of the kit.

  The tips of Connor’s ears turned red. “Hell, Venus, it’s nothing.”

  “Let me see.” She grabbed his hand, cleaned his long finger with the wipe, and examined his smooth, tanned skin for cuts.

  Gregori snickered. “When I get hurt my ma kisses it to make it better.”

  She dropped Connor’s hand as if she’d been burned. “You’re fine.”

  “I told you it was nothing.” He slid Gregori a stern look and handed her another tray. “Here.”

  Taking it, she scrambled to her feet and escaped back behind the curtain.

  Two hours and four trays full of salvaged jewelry later, she still hadn’t figured out Connor and why she’d felt almost close to him. The second time Gregori presented her with a new tray and she heard his stomach growl and saw his embarrassed grin, she knew it must be more than time for a break, both from work and from her curiosity about why Connor continued to be positively charming. And why she hadn’t thrown him out in an indignant huff of pent-up anger toward him, instead of being, well, almost attracted to him. This perfect opportunity to get closer to him had fallen into her lap and she couldn’t seem to make the first move.

  For heaven’s sake be creative!

  The old adage, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, popped into her head. “It’s two o’clock. Who wants lunch?”

  Gregori’s arm shot up. “Me.”

  “I’ll go.” With absolutely no apparent struggle, Connor sprang to his feet. He flexed his shoulders and she saw muscles rippling under his shirt. “Anything close?”

  Since she’d first thought about Connor looking like the statue of David, she couldn’t get the picture out of her mind every time she saw him. She blinked to get her focus away from his bare chest glimpsed where his shirt hung open two buttons. “Yes. Sola. Around the corner. They have great food. Especially their short rib sandwich.”

  “Got fries?” Gregori asked.

  Venus laughed. “Their truffle fries are to die for.”

  Connor glanced between them. “Short rib sandwiches and fries all around?”

  Of course she should order a simple salad with dressing on the side but really she needed comfort food. “Absolutely.”

  She swore she saw Connor’s almost-smile before he strolled out the door.

  “You got pretty stuff in your store.”

  She watched Gregori roam around the shop and stop in front of the vintage day wear. “My mom would like these dresses.”

  “Oh, does your Mom like vintage?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know. She likes pretty stuff. Don’t have much since my dad left us. That’s why she’s lookin’ for a job.”

  Her heart ached at the sadness in his young eyes. “I know it’s tough right now. I hope your mom finds something soon.”

  “Me, too.” Gregori stretched. “Hey, got any soda?”

  “Oh, no, we forgot drinks.” She hurried around the counter. “I’ll run and tell Connor.”

  “You’re leavin’ me here alone?”

  The shock on his face stopped her. “I don’t think there’s any danger now.”

  “Fu…” he stopped, flushing. “… I ain’t afraid. You trust me to stay with all your stuff?”

  Of course she knew if he worked out in Connor’s gym he had had problems, but she nodded, wanting to reassure him. “Absolutely. I know you’ll keep everything here safe, right?”

  Venus swore he seemed to grow taller before her eyes. “Ain’t nothin’ goin’ to be gone from here.”

  “Great! I’ll be right back.”

  Around the corner, she found Connor, a breeze ruffling his thick dark hair, where he sat at one of the tables on the sidewalk outside Sola.

  When he saw her, he frowned and stood up. “What’s wrong? Is it Gregori?”

  She tried to read his face as Diana would have done.

  Except Diana is like a psychic, usually figuring it out. Not like me.

  “Nothing is wrong, except I forgot drinks. I came to tell you to bring some soda for Gregori.”

  Connor gave her the oddest look. It seemed to her to be a combination of sweetness, surprise, and gratitude.

  The same warmth she’d felt earlier curled through her chest.

  “You trusting him will mean a great deal to Gregori,” Connor said softly.

  Embarrassed by this startling feeling of intimacy, as if they were sharing something special, she started playing with her hair. “It means a great deal to me that the two of you are helping. Why are you doing this, Connor? Not just because Diana said we needed help with cleanup.”

  He seemed to stiffen ever so slightly. “Since Drew and Athena are off on his yacht celebrating their engagement, I feel it’s my responsibility to help you.”

  Maybe it was the odd intimacy she’d felt holding his hand and now again standing a shade closer than she would normally have done, or maybe it could be delayed shock from the robbery, or maybe her reckless nature finally broke through her guard. The question she needed answered burned in her throat.

  “If you really truly want to help me you’ll explain what happened at Clayworth’s and why you fired my father and ruined his reputation.”

  The air became very still around them. Even the noisy traffic on Lincoln Avenue faded into the distance.

  Connor narrowed his eyes until they were emerald slits. “You know both your father and the Clayworth family signed an antidefamation clause.”

  “Drew has already broken it by telling Athena Dad made some questionable investments that put Clayworth’s in jeopardy. But I know that isn’t reason enough for you to destroy his life,” Venus snapped, unable to stop herself.

  Connor shook his head. “Legally Drew should never have divulged any details of this situation, but I’ve given him a pass. A man in love doesn’t always use his head.”

  Liquid fire ran through her veins. If you like me, maybe you’ll tell me what I need to know.

  “Everyone has agreed to this.” Connor watched her, as she imagined he must study his opponents in the courtroom, but his words seem to come from far away beyond the pounding of her heart. “Why can’t you, Venus?”

  “I can’t because my father deserves better and you know it,” she whispered, fighting back tears.

  The blaze in his wide-open emerald eyes gave her one answer, his silence another.

  Shocked and trembling at her core, she twirled and ran back around the corner.

  She saw Diana, Tony, and a man with what looked like a tool box walk into Pandora’s Box.

  Her heart kept pounding in her chest, not because she had run so fast she felt breathless, not because she’d tried the straightforward approach and it hadn’t worked, but it pulsed through every cell of her body because of what she’d been able to read at last in Connor’s eyes.

  Reaching the door to her store, she rushed in and swayed to a stop behind the tool guy.

  Legs braced apart, Gregori held everyone back from entering Pandora’s Box more than a few feet.

  “But I told you, I’m her sister,” Diana said softly, peering up at Gregori.

  “It’s all right.” Venus slipped around the two men to reach Diana’s side.

  Gregori’s quick gaze darted between them. “I get it. You got the same eyes.”

  “You did a great job, Gregori. Mr. O’Flynn will be here in a few minutes with lunch.”

  “Connor is here?” Tony asked, a note of surprise in his deep voice.

  “Yes. He and Gr
egori are helping me clean up.”

  “We’re also here to help you.” Tony held her hand. “My assistant and I will determine how your security system could have been compromised.”

  “Uncle Tony!” Connor called, elbowing his way through the door carrying two bags from Sola.

  Knowing what she’d seen in his eyes, as if for one moment she’d been physic like Diana, Venus felt insanely grateful that her sister, Tony, and his helper were here to act as a buffer between her and Connor until he and Gregori finished and she could send them away.

  Her skin tingled and her stomach burned with excitement and dread. She should be happy. Relieved. Not too terrified to be alone with him.

  My crazy plan may work. Connor is as confused by me as I am by him. Now what do I do?

  Chapter 6

  In the John Clayworth and Company executive offices in their flagship store in the Chicago Loop, Connor paced back and forth from his desk to the windows overlooking State Street.

  What in the hell should I do about Venus?

  He threw himself into his leather desk chair and stared down at his notes. It makes sense to stay away from her until I figure out why Tony and Bridget are upset and whether or not it’s all about the brooch. If it is then Venus could get hurt.

  Remembering how his aunt and uncle had stonewalled his every question with poker faces even though tension quivered between them, Connor headed to the butler pantry next to his office to pour himself a drink.

  He knew it was their problem and they wanted him to back off but he couldn’t get past the idea that if he retrieved the mermaid brooch he could “make it right,” as Tony had said.

  He tossed back the neat scotch, feeling the burn down his throat. Like the burn in his gut trying to figure out how to get the brooch back when Venus supposedly had sworn to never part with it and only a real bastard would try to retrieve it from her when she seemed vulnerable.

  Is vulnerable, you bastard.

  Again, he paced to the window, factoring in her kindness to Gregori, which had complicated Connor’s feelings toward her. He stared out at the traffic in the street below, seeing her face, and ached again for her disappointment when she’d point-blank asked about her dad and he couldn’t in good faith answer.

  Hell, she already hates my guts because of her father. Why am I so damned worried about making her dislike me even more over the brooch?

  Decision made, he stalked out of his office toward Bridget’s.

  She met him in the hallway. “Your mother and her guests are on the way up here.”

  “Hell, I forgot they arrived today.” Guilt and his mother were synonymous. Her guilt and his.

  At the end of the hall, Victoria Clayworth O’Flynn appeared as she always had to him. Distant, fit, tanned, her hair as light as his was dark.

  “Connor, my dear boy.” She strolled toward him to offer her face for kisses.

  He pressed his lips briefly to each cheek. “You look well, Mother.”

  “As do you. The image of your father.” She stepped back, urging an older and a younger woman forward. “You must meet my dearest friend, Mugsy Osborn, and her ravishing daughter, CeCe.”

  His mother gave him a coy side glance. “CeCe has an MBA in finance from Stanford and has an important position with her family’s financial firm. You two have much in common.”

  Mugsy looked like a clone of his mother, but with dark hair, which didn’t swing quite as perfectly under her chin.

  Looking at CeCe, surprise flashed through him like a warning.

  Mother is getting serious about matchmaking.

  As tall, willowy, and blonde as all her other candidates for his affection, CeCe had a glint of humor in her crystal-blue eyes that the others had sorely lacked.

  “Clayworth’s is magnificent, Connor. I may need to apply for a credit card to do some serious shopping.”

  “Consider it done.” He smiled into her pretty face, relieved his mother’s yearly two-week visit might not be as grueling as usual.

  Beside him, his mother sighed, and behind her, his aunt cleared her throat.

  “I’m Bridget O’Flynn. Victoria’s sister-in-law.”

  Mugsy gave her a limp handshake, CeCe a stronger one.

  “My apologies, Bridget. I was overcome with seeing my handsome son again after such a long time apart.” Not a quiver of any emotion colored his mother’s voice or showed on her face. He expected nothing else.

  “If you want to spend more time with your son you should come back to Chicago more than once a year like you’ve been doin’ since he was eight.”

  Wanting her to stop, Connor tried to catch Bridget’s eyes. He knew from years of experience that she’d never forgive Victoria for what his aunt considered neglect of him even though he’d long ago accepted his mother’s nature.

  A bright flush crept across his mother’s face, the one trait they shared and the one flaw she could never hide, although she tried. How many times had he heard her lecture him as a kid about its being unseemly to show emotions.

  “You know I’ve always preferred the Clayworth Compound in Palm Beach and Connor and his father loved Chicago. Connor refuses to budge from here.” With a blinding smile, she turned to Mugsy. “We had such a time convincing him to go to Groton for prep school.”

  Mugsy nodded. “Excellent choice. CeCe’s brother went to Groton. Then on to Harvard.”

  The sharp look his mother flashed him reminded him of her disappointment when he’d chosen not to stay in the East. She masked it with a flutter of her eyelashes and a smile, but he’d seen it as she meant him to. He knew it was her way of showing she’d cared about his future. Her way of showing her affection in the only manner she felt comfortable.

  “Connor refused to go anywhere but Northwestern for undergraduate and law school. Naturally he was editor of the law review.”

  “Northwestern is an excellent school, Victoria. The Stanford of the Midwest, they say.” CeCe’s smile caught all of them and lingered on his mother.

  “How kind you are, CeCe.” Sighing, her hand fluttered to the blue-and-white Hermès scarf around her throat. “We’re exhausted from traveling. Connor, I trust you’re coming to Lake Forest tonight for dinner. I’m preparing a new recipe to give to the cook.”

  The look passing between CeCe and Mugsy told him they’d been victims of his mother’s dinner parties. If you didn’t leave hungry, you left with indigestion.

  “I have a better idea, Mother. Why don’t you have the driver take you to Lake Forest and bring you back to the city. We’ll have dinner in Club International at the Drake Hotel.”

  An avaricious gleam filled his mother’s eyes. “I do enjoy their Bookbinder soup. And their special Club International salad is divine. Completely healthy, except for the quarter of hard-boiled egg,” she assured Mugsy.

  “Sounds wonderful.” CeCe jumped at the offer. “It’s a date, Connor. Seven-thirtyish?”

  “It’s a date.” He watched the three women disappear into the executive elevator before meeting his aunt’s eyes.

  “I must say CeCe’s an improvement over previous contenders your mom has dragged home. I’m impressed. How about you?”

  “She’s beautiful. Obviously bright. And has a sense of humor. What’s not to like,” he shrugged.

  His aunt narrowed her eyes. “But…?”

  She’s not Venus.

  “God in heaven, Connor, if you could see your face,” she said, laughing.

  Fighting to conquer the mindless urge to go to Venus and do what? he stared at his aunt. Then laughed, too, trying to cover his confusion. “It should be an interesting two weeks. Beginning with dinner tonight. Will you and Tony join us?”

  Tilting her head, Bridget continued to watch him. “Sure, I wouldn’t miss this for anythin’. Besides, I like their Red Snapper Bookbinder soup, too. Tonight I might even put in the full shot of sherry.”

  In the end, Connor put two full shots of sherry in his soup.

  Seated at a round ta
ble between CeCe and his mother and across from Mugsy, he felt the full-court press coming from all sides.

  More than once he met CeCe’s amused eyes when the conversation veered dangerously close to a checklist of his eligibility as husband material, naturally delivered without a trace of unseemly emotion by his mother.

  He leaned toward CeCe. “I promise you if my mother tells the story of my spelling my name in alphabet soup when I was two I’ll plot our escape.”

  “I’m sure it will be as charming as your school pictures Bridget showed me during cocktails.”

  Surprised, he glanced over his shoulder at his aunt, who obviously must have heard because she shrugged innocently.

  What he’d always liked about the low carved wood ceiling of this club was being able to actually have a conversation. Even as a kid it had seemed like a kind of Old World oasis behind the long windows facing North Michigan Avenue, Chicago’s Magnificent Mile.

  His dad and his Clayworth uncles had called it a hideaway to get business done. Nothing had changed. At a corner table the new mayor held court with his supporters. At another corner table near the windows, David Sumner seemed in deep discussion with other local media moguls.

  “This Veuve Clicquot champagne is perfect with my salad and dover sole meunière,” his mother sighed, having eaten a real meal, possibly for the first time in weeks. “Would anyone care for more champagne?”

  Mugsy waved her hand. “Please, Victoria, more for Tony and me.” She beamed up at him, leaning closer. “We are having the most fascinating discussion about Friday’s gala and about security.” She stroked his arm. “Now tell me the truth, Tony, aren’t dogs the best deterrent against home robbery?”

  Tony’s robust laughter caught Bridget’s attention and she flicked a stern glance at Mugsy’s hand on his arm.

  “Bad for business to confess you’re right, Mugsy. A large dog with a loud bark.”

  Connor avoided his aunt’s eyes so he could control his urge to smile. Given the tension between her and Tony, it might not be bad for her to feel an innocent twinge of jealousy.