A five-carat diamond lay draped around her long slender neck, and she had on a matching bracelet. She’d twisted her hair up off her shoulders like Aubrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s-his mother’s all-time favorite movie.
She’d struck exactly the right note.
He stared, stunned by the simplicity of her beauty. “You look amazing.”
Her smile was surprisingly shy. “Thank you.”
“I brought you a corsage.”
“I can see that.”
He suddenly felt like a giant dork standing there with the vibrant red rose corsage in his hand. He’d gotten it on Vanessa’s recommendation, but now the gesture seemed way too high-school-promish. “It’s a dumb idea.”
“No, no.” She reached for the corsage. “Flowers are never a dumb idea.”
“Should I pin it on for you?”
“Please.”
He took the corsage out of the box and stepped forward to pin it on her dress. She smelled so good, so tempting. His knuckles grazed the curve of her skin, his fingertips brushing the velvety material of her dress. She felt so warm and alive.
Katie lowered her lashes, watching him pin the corsage in place. The fact she was watching him threw Liam off his game. Her succulent aroma, mingled with the smell of the roses, enticed him. He wanted to lean over and nibble on the creamy expanse of her exposed neck.
“Your thumb,” she exclaimed. “Look, Liam, you’re bleeding.”
It was only then he noticed he had poked his finger with the pin while putting on her corsage. He’d been so overwhelmed by her that he hadn’t even felt the prick of pain.
Katie snatched a tissue from a nearby box, reached out, took his hand and dotted away the blood.
Something knotted inside him at her tender touch. Something alien and scary.
He wondered how he looked to her, successful entrepreneur in a tux, Boston’s most eligible bachelor, all suave and debonair, sticking his finger with a pin and not even paying attention because her beauty had so preoccupied him.
“Where did you get that tattoo?” she asked. “It doesn’t fit with the rest of you.”
He stiffened. He was sensitive about the tattoo. He wore wide watchbands to hide it, but when he looked down he could see the inky barbs peeping around the edge of his Rolex.
“I got into some trouble when I was a kid,” he admitted, hoping a simple explanation would be enough.
“What kind of trouble?” She breathed, and he could tell she was intrigued.
“I got mixed up with a gang,” he mumbled.
“A real gang?”
“Real enough.”
She blinked. “I don’t believe you.”
He didn’t know what possessed him to do what he did next. Her tone of voice, maybe. Or perhaps he had a desire to shock her. But the next thing Liam knew he was stripping off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.
A smile curled her lips. “I like the way this is going.”
Her teasing frustrated him. He aimed to stun, not titillate.
He whipped off his shirt and then tugged down the right side of his trouser waistband, revealing the jagged silvered scar just above his hipbone.
Katie’s eyes widened to the size of quarters. “Ohmigod!”
Talking about being stabbed was more difficult than he’d thought it would be. But Liam was not prepared for what she did next.
Katie crossed the distance between them, sank to her knees and softly pressed her lips to his scar, leaving behind the scarlet imprint of her mouth branded against his skin. The gesture sent quivers shooting through his groin. Uncontrollably, his penis hardened. Disturbed by her response and his reaction to it, he held out a hand to help her to her feet.
“Tell me,” she whispered, and touched his arm, leaving him wishing he’d never started this.
He lifted his shoulder, shrugging as if it had been no big deal, rather than a defining moment in his life. “It was the stupid mistake of a fourteen-year-old kid, looking for a place to belong.”
“Why did you feel the need to belong that badly?”
“I grew up without a father. My mother worked two jobs to make ends meet. I spent a lot of time alone.”
“What happened to your dad?”
He certainly hadn’t intended on getting into all this now. “I never knew him. He took off the minute he found out my mother was pregnant.”
“Wow, none of that was in the Young Bostonian article about you.”
“I don’t tell many people about it.”
Her eyes softened. “Thank you for telling me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“How did you get from there to where you are today?” She studied him intently, her gaze heating up his skin as he fumbled with the shirt buttons.
“After this-” he swept a hand at his scar “-my mother knew she had to get me out of that neighborhood or I was going to end up dead.”
“How did she get you out of that environment?”
“She took a job as a cook’s helper at a private school in upstate New York. Even though it paid a lot less than her two jobs in Boston, we were allowed to live in a two-room apartment on the school grounds and I received free tuition. If it weren’t for the sacrifices she made, I wouldn’t be here today.”
That might sound overly dramatic, but it was the honest truth. He would have been killed or in prison, of that he had little doubt.
“How come you don’t have the tattoo removed?”
“I keep it as a reminder of where I’ve been, of what I’ve escaped. I’m not proud of it, but it’s important not to forget my past.”
“Oh,” she said as if she understood, but he knew she had no concept of what his life had been like. How could she from her ivory tower?
Looking at the regal tilt of her head, he felt like that fatherless fourteen-year-old boy again who’d grown up in the South Boston housing project. Unsure of himself and desperately longing for success, but terrified he’d never fit in with Katie’s kind, no matter how hard he tried. He’d come a long way, but there were some barriers that could never be breached.
Who was he to think he could ever possess a woman like her? He could amass all the money in the world and never be in her league. To believe otherwise was folly. His tattoo was proof of that. You couldn’t change your DNA.
But part of his DNA was as blue-blooded as her own.
The part he hated.
Liam stepped back, hoping if he put some distance between them he could think more clearly, but he could not.
Katie met his gaze with a knowing smile. He had the frantic notion she could see right through him like an X-ray.
Afraid of his vulnerability, Liam cleared his throat. “We better leave if we don’t want to be late for the mayor’s party.”
Delancy lived in one of the largest mansions on Beacon Hill. A valet hired for the evening parked his car. Liam took Katie’s hand and guided her up the cobblestone walkway.
He noticed the carved lintels and decorative ironwork. Delancy was living here while he and his mother had been crammed into a six-hundred-square-foot apartment on the wrong side of the tracks and then later in an equally small garage apartment behind the dean’s house at Fernwood Academy for Boys.
The old rage caught fire inside him.
Katie must have picked up on his mood because she stopped on the front doorstep and looked at him. “Liam, is everything okay?”
“Yes.”
“You seem tense.”
“A bit nervous, I guess.”
“You?” She sounded surprised.
“I’ve never met the mayor before.” At least not officially. Not outside of a pirate’s costume.
“Don’t be so impressed with Finn Delancy. My family’s known his for years. People on Beacon Hill are like people anywhere else and most of them have a skeleton or two in their closet. Blue blood or not, you’re twice the man Finn Delancy will ever be. Relax. You’ll do fine.”
Her words washed away his anger. She squeezed his hand, strengthening his courage and then reached out to rap the door with the heavy brass knocker.
A reserved-looking young woman wearing a starched white apron answered their knock.