A Love Surrendered Page 3

  Peggy watched Joe stride to the bar, then leaned close to Annie. “Joe and Steven are such sweethearts,” she said with a sigh. “Gorgeous too, not to mention dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” Annie squinted at her friend. “But Joe seems so nice . . .”

  Peggy’s chuckle rumbled against Annie’s ear. “They’re federal agents, Annie, armed to the teeth with both guns and charm. But trust me, that’s not what makes ’em ‘dangerous.’ ”

  Annie blinked. Then what does?

  “Here you go, Dr Pepper Girl, one bottled addiction.” Joe plopped a glass down.

  “Thanks, Joe.” She took a swig, excitement bubbling as much as the soda in her glass.

  “My pleasure, kiddo.” He returned to his seat, then suddenly jerked straight up, waving a hand in the air. “Okay, Miss Hogan, smile pretty,” he muttered under his breath, “you’re on.” He rose to his feet. “Well, speak of the devil. Where’ve you been, O’Connor, you’re late.”

  Annie stiffened, an odd mix of dread and curiosity roiling at the prospect of meeting Steven O’Connor, the man who broke Maggie’s heart. Sucking in a deep breath, she exhaled before turning around, going for a nonchalant air. Unfortunately, both nonchalance and air died a quick death when blood drained from her face faster than the liquor from Joanie’s flask.

  “Sorry, Joe, had to call the precinct about a couple of thugs.” The “officer” who’d saved her from Harv and Grove casually slipped his jacket over an empty chair, and she caught a peek of a shoulder holster before he buttoned his open vest. “They were hassling some silly kid who didn’t have a brain in her head.”

  Her gasp forced Dr Pepper up her nose, and she started to hack. Peggy slapped her on the back. “You okay? Gosh, you act like Joanie spiked your drink.”

  “Hi, Steven, it’s been way too long.” Erica all but glowed. “We’ve missed you.”

  “Speak for yourself, Erica.” Joe plucked Steven’s jacket off the chair and tossed it across the table. “I see way too much of him as it is. He’s all yours for the evening.”

  Steven laughed, deep blue eyes sparkling as he extended a hand to Stan. “Hey, buddy, long time, no see. And Ashley Roberts—don’t tell me you’re still dating this guy? I thought you’d wise up by now.”

  “Just waiting for you to come around, Steven, so just give me the word.” Ashley ruffled Stan’s hair with a smirk.

  Chuckling, Steven turned. “So, Joanie, how’ve you—” He stopped, jaw dangling at the sight of Annie. “You,” he whispered, the smile dissolving on his face. His hands settled loosely on his hips while the blue eyes narrowed. “These are your friends?”

  Blood whooshed into Annie’s cheeks, burning so much, she thought she would peel.

  “You know Annie?” Joe hiked a brow while Annie died a thousand deaths.

  Steven jerked a thumb her way. “Yeah, she’s the brainless kid I was telling you about, the one I had to rescue from those two thugs.” He shifted his gaze back to Annie and shook his head. “A female walking this neighborhood alone at night. That’s just plain stupid.”

  “Hey, she isn’t stupid,” Peggy said. “Annie’s class valedictorian.”

  The edge of Steven’s lip curled. “Yeah, book smart, street stupid.”

  The heat in Annie’s face went straight to her temper. “Well, at least my brains are in my head, Officer, and not in my gun.”

  “Whoo-ee, Steven,” Stan said with a chuckle. “I think she just called you a dumb cop.”

  “Come on, you two,” Joe said with a grin, “let’s kiss and make up. And you, partner”—Joe aimed a pointed look at Steven—“need to lighten up. We’re not on the clock here, you know, so let’s have a good time.” He shot Annie a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Annie, this guy doesn’t get out all that much, but once you get to know him, he’s really not so bad. Right, Erica?”

  Erica’s smile went to work as she leaned in to give Steven the benefit of her new dress. “I’ll vouch for that.” She patted the chair beside her. “Be a good boy, Steven, and come sit down.”

  Steven didn’t budge, gaze flicking from Erica to Annie while a storm brewed in his eyes.

  “Okay, then let’s start over.” Joe directed an arm to Annie. “This is Peggy’s friend, Annie, and she’s new to Boston, straight from Badger, Iowa, which,” he said with a lift of brows, “is probably why she didn’t know not to walk the Pier alone at night.” He grinned at Annie with a quick nod at Steven. “This is my partner at the Prohibition Bureau, Steven O’Connor, a stickler for the law who was actually a lot more fun in college when he broke it on a regular basis.”

  Prohibition officers? Annie gaped, stunned. Joe hadn’t blinked an eye over Joanie’s flask. She noted the hard line of Steven O’Connor’s jaw and guessed it wouldn’t be the same with him.

  “So what do you say, you two. Truce?” Joe glanced from one to the other.

  Despite a wobble in her legs, Annie rose and held out a shaky hand. “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot, Offi—uh, Steven. I hope we can be friends.”

  “Atta girl, Annie.” Joe turned to his partner and arched a brow. “O’Connor?”

  ———

  Steven stared, irritated the smart-mouthed kid he’d rescued in the street could not only set off his temper but apparently his pulse as well. He scowled. In the dark, she’d looked like a kid, barely fifteen, but here in the intimacy of the low-lit ballroom and without the baggy sweater, she appeared older, cute even, aglow with an innocence that rankled. His eyes narrowed. She didn’t belong here, mixing with a crowd who would only set her on the wrong path. She was seventeen, for pity’s sake, and the wide green eyes void of makeup and dewy cheeks growing rosier by the second told him loud and clear she was nothing more than a naïve Pollyanna. Chaste, innocent, everything the women around her were not, and it chafed that he found himself in the unlikely role of big brother. To protect her, to steer her away from all this, to save her from ending up hard and loose like all the women he knew.

  Women like Maggie. Regret stabbed immediately, as always whenever he thought of the woman who’d stolen his heart. But then he’d stolen her innocence in college, in the backseat of Joe’s father’s car, and no matter how hard he tried, nothing could erase that stain of guilt from his soul. Not breaking up with her, not giving up drinking, not even pursuing the law in an effort to vindicate his past. A past that had almost cost him the life of his father.

  “Ahem . . .” Joe cleared his throat.

  Steven jolted, suddenly aware he was staring. Forcing a smile, he gripped her hand. “I’m sorry too. Professional vice, I guess. When I see someone in danger, it just puts me on edge.”

  A soft shade of pink dusted her cheeks as her small hand slipped from his. “That’s understandable. And thank you again for coming to my rescue.”

  She tucked a strand of reddish blonde hair over her ear, an action that seemed both sweet and sensual at the same time. The motion drew his attention to the soft curls that trailed her shoulders, a stark contrast to the fashionable bobs of the day. Further evidence of her innocence, he thought with a press of his jaw, and his protective instincts notched up. Without meaning to, his gaze traveled down, taking in generous curves previously hidden by a sweater, and when his eyes met hers once again, the flaming blush in her cheeks tugged a grin to his lips.

  “Besides,” he said, flicking Joe on the head, “I always get a little testy when I see a nice girl like you mixed up with trouble like this.”

  “Hey, need I remind you that you used to be ‘trouble’ too?” Joe winked at Erica. “And . . . if I have my way, you will be again.” He poured Coca-Cola into a fresh glass and handed it to Steven. “Here, take the badge off, O’Connor, and let’s show these ladies a good time.”

  “Speaking of which,” Joanie said with a drawl, “how ’bout a touch of giggle water to take you back to the good ol’ days?”

  Steven’s smile soured. “You know better than that, Joanie. College is over, and I’m in the Justice Depart
ment now, a working stiff sworn to uphold the law.”

  Joe grunted. “ ‘Stiff’ being the operative word. Come on, Steven, lighten up. Prohibition will be dead by the end of the year, so what’s the big deal? We’re not on the payroll now.”

  Huffing out a sigh, Steven ambled over to sit next to Erica. “Obviously.” He caught Joe’s pleading glance and exhaled again, realizing his best friend was probably right . . . again. He was stiff. And dull and boring and downright miserable. He stared at Joe’s and Stan’s open-necked shirts and suddenly yanked at his tie and shoved it in his coat pocket, loosening his own shirt. An ocean breeze from the window cooled the sweat on his chest, and all at once he realized how stagnant his life had become.

  “You used to be the life of the party, O’Connor,” Joe had said when he’d strong-armed Steven earlier in the day. “What the devil happened?”

  His smile thinned as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Maggie happened.

  “Mmm, get comfortable, why don’t you?” Erica said, wisping painted nails through the dark hairs on his arm. And for the first time in a while, he missed spending time with a woman.

  “My thoughts exactly,” he said as he tugged her to her feet and led her to the dance floor. He pulled her into his arms, and the scent of Chanel No. 5 toyed with his senses. They moved slowly, the mellow sound of “Hold Me” soothing his nerves and draining the tension from his neck. Exactly what I have in mind, he thought, the lyrics underscoring his resolve. He rested his head against hers, pushing aside all thoughts of Maggie.

  “It’s nice to be in your arms again, Steven,” Erica whispered, her husky tone reminding him of the fling they’d had during one of his breakups with Maggie.

  “It’s nice to have you here, Erica.”

  She stared up, lips parted and an invitation in her eyes, and a once-familiar desire kindled deep in his gut. It’d been too long since he’d been drawn to a woman, and he found he no longer wanted to avoid it. Almost three years on the high road had made him a lonely man, one who didn’t feel anything for any woman, nor wanted to. But with Erica so close, so willing, he could feel it now, and he couldn’t deny it felt good, natural, to be here again. Eyes lidded, she slowly lifted on tiptoe to brush her lips against his, and upon contact, her arms swept around his neck, drawing him down. A forgotten desire flamed and he deepened the kiss. The taste of her intoxicated him, and with a silent groan, he clutched her so tightly, he felt her breathe when she molded close.

  “I’ve missed you,” she whispered, and he closed his eyes to enjoy the feel of her body against his, the clean smell of Breck shampoo in her hair, the scent of her skin.

  “Now, see? This isn’t so bad, is it, O’Connor?”

  Steven opened his eyes to see Joe grinning at him with Annie in his arms, and for some reason, his neck stiffened all over again, dampening his good mood. You’re an idiot, O’Connor, what do you care? He tightened his hold on Erica and deflected his feelings with a cocky grin. “Oh, it’s bad, all right. Bad for my work ethic. I could get used to this.”

  “Mmm . . . me too.” Erica laid her head on his chest.

  “That’s the whole plan,” Joe said. “To get you back into the land of the living so you don’t drag me down too.”

  He winked at Erica and spun Annie away, holding her closer than Steven liked. His lips compressed into a near scowl. Leave her alone, Joe, she’s just a kid.

  The dance ended and Joe took Annie back to the table, allowing Steven to breathe easier and enjoy Erica in his arms. They danced to several more songs before Steven escorted her back, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long while. “Thanks, Erica,” he said, “I needed that.”

  “Me too, Steven.” She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?” She gave Joanie a secret smile and inclined her head toward the ladies’ room. “Want to come?”

  “Sure,” Joanie said with a ready grin, then followed as Erica led the way.

  Steven leaned back, arm draped loosely over Erica’s chair as he squinted at Joe. He nodded toward Annie’s empty spot. “Where’s the kid?”

  Joe’s gaze shifted to the dance floor. “Peggy’s dancing with some guy I don’t know and Annie is with . . .” He hesitated, his mouth leveling flat. “Brubaker.”

  Steven sat up. “Brubaker?” He leaned in, fingers gripped to the table. “And you let her?”

  Joe sighed and downed his Coke, slumping back in his chair. “And how are we supposed to stop her, Steven? We have no control over her. Besides, it’s only a dance.”

  “She’s a kid, Walsh,” Steven said sharply, his jaw hard as rock. “For pity’s sake, she’s still wet behind the ears without a lick of sense to know that Brubaker’s a snake.” His eyes scanned the crowd, seeing Peggy, but no sign of Annie. “Where is she?” he snapped.

  “Why? What are you going to do? Make a scene?” Joe slanted forward. “You know you have no patience where Brubaker’s concerned, so why borrow trouble?”

  Steven rose. “One, because I flat-out don’t like the guy, and two? Because I’m not gonna let that slime ruin another girl’s reputation, especially some kid from Podunk, Iowa, who doesn’t know which end is up.” He jerked his jacket off the chair and put it on, then tempered his anger with a stiff smile. “Come on, Joe, isn’t this what you’re always harping about? For me to get back in the game?”

  Joe scowled. “Yeah, but with the ladies, not your fists. You’re a law official, O’Connor, not a vigilante. You’re supposed to head off trouble, not start it.”

  “Exactly,” Steven said with another quick scan of the floor. “And that’s exactly what I intend to do.” He slammed his chair in, shooting Joe a reassuring grin. “Don’t worry, partner, you have my word I won’t throw the first punch.” He took a quick stab at the peanuts and tossed a handful in his mouth. “But if it comes to that?” He offered a quick salute. “You can bet I’ll deliver the last.”

  2

  Uh-oh, this is a mistake . . . Annie tensed the moment Billy steered her out to the piazza, the brisk sea air delivering as many cold chills as the man holding her hand, a bitter reminder she’d left her sweater inside. Isolated couples lingered here and there, some nuzzling at the railing while a ripe moon lent a hazy glow with a stripe of gold across Massachusetts Bay. Others chose darker nooks to engage in behavior that forced a lump to her throat, bringing heat to her cheeks that belied the cool of the night. She buffed her arms, feeling the goose bumps popping everywhere beneath her thin dress, and Billy instantly pulled her into his arms.

  “I’ll keep you warm, doll,” he whispered, fondling her ear with his mouth. Lights from the piazza danced across the water, while shivers danced down her spine, as much from his touch as from fear of where it might lead. She squeezed her eyes shut, body stiff as his lips wandered her throat. But it didn’t matter how scared she was, because the truth was, it was time.

  “Book smart, street stupid.” Steven O’Connor’s words haunted, confirming what she already knew. When it came to life, she’d always done things by the “book,” the tomboy who was smart, responsible, and mature beyond her years. Excelling in school and faith while Maggie excelled in living life with a passion. Well, Annie was tired of waiting for her life to begin and the magic to start. The same magic that had filled every one of her sister’s letters, beckoning her toward this pivotal moment when she was no longer a little girl but a woman like Maggie, experiencing things that, up to now, she’d only dreamed or written about.

  Like my very first kiss.

  Billy eased her to the steel railing, and she shivered again, remembering “Harv’s” near kiss on the boardwalk. That was the first kiss any boy ever tried to give her, and she was quite sure it didn’t count. No, it’d left her shaken and nauseous, and a true first kiss had to be magical.

  Didn’t it? Like a moonlit kiss on this piazza with a handsome man like Billy who actually stirred her pulse? Her mind suddenly leapfrogged to Steven O’Connor, and heat braised her skin. All at once her s
tomach lurched when Billy molded his body to hers, causing panic to rise in her chest. His mouth slid softly to her throat, and she forced herself to relax, determined to enjoy this milestone in her life. And then with a harsh catch of her breath, he feathered her ear with his mouth, tongue invasive. Frantic, she tried to push him away, but he only locked her tighter, his breath hot against her skin. “Oh, babe, I never met a girl like you—”

  “Sure you have, Brubaker, dozens of times, at this very railing alone.” Steven O’Connor strolled forward, hands loose in the pockets of his blue serge slacks and lips sculpted in a smile colder than the cast-iron statue she’d passed on the Pier.

  Heat singed Annie’s cheeks when a swear word hissed in her ear, and she gasped when Billy spun around. “You looking for trouble, O’Connor? Because if you are, I’ll give it to ya.”

  Steven folded his arms, tone casual despite a tic in his jaw. “Trouble? Naw, but you are.” His dangerous smile gleamed white in the dark. “Ever hear the term ‘age of consent’?”

  Billy didn’t answer right away, but Annie saw the strain in the clench of his fists. “What the devil are you talking about? I ain’t done nothing wrong.”

  “Not yet.” Steven nodded at Annie. “But look at her, Brubaker, she’s jailbait and way too young for what you got in mind.”

  “That’s her decision, fuzzball, not yours.”

  Annie eased away, arms clutched to her waist as Steven arched a brow. Gaze lidded, his chiseled face was calm and matter-of-fact as he held out a hand. “Want to stay with him, Annie, or come with me?”

  She shot into his embrace, burying her face in his shirt while she sobbed against his chest. His arms closed around her like a steel fortress, and when he spoke, his voice was as biting as the sudden gust of wind whipping her back. “If I ever see you around Annie or anybody this young again, Brubaker, I’ll toss you in the cooler so fast, you’ll have frostbite.”

  “Yeah? On what charges, flatfoot?”