by Jackie Braun
The dark cloud of his past loomed for a moment, but the bright afternoon sun was too warm and welcoming to allow it to overtake his good mood.
Kate settled on one of the chairs under an umbrella that shaded the balcony’s only table. She popped the top on a can of Diet Coke and took a lusty gulp. He thought he heard her sigh afterward.
“You really are a regular here,” he said as he joined her. “A private balcony and your own table. How do you rate all this?”
“As I said, Evan married my best friend from college.”
“The one who taught you how to make macaroni and cheese?” he asked as he uncapped his bottle of water.
“That would be the one.” She smiled. “Shirley and Evan got married the year after we graduated from Northwestern. She was a business major. She’d always planned to travel the world before settling down in a management job at an upscale hotel, preferably one in Europe.” Kate shrugged. “Instead, she married Evan and they set up a deli in Chicago half an hour’s drive from her parents’ house. Just before Christmas, they had a baby. The smartest, cutest, cleverest baby ever, according to her.”
He chuckled. “I think it’s a requirement for all parents that they think their kids are remarkable.”
“Well, in her case, she’s not exaggerating by much. Dylan is absolutely gorgeous.” She sipped her soda again. “So now, instead of traveling the world and living in an exotic location, she’s in her hometown, owns a deli with her husband, and is a full-time mom. It’s funny how life works.”
Wasn’t it, though? Brody had never thought that after crushing his enemy, he’d be having lunch with the man’s daughter…and enjoying himself immensely.
It seemed wrong. It felt right.
“But she’s happy?” He uncapped his bottle of water and took a sip.
“Over the moon.” Kate grinned, unaware of Brody’s internal struggle. “Married life and motherhood suit her.”
For the first time, he found himself thinking they would suit Kate, too. He couldn’t quite reconcile the woman sitting across from him with the woman from the media reports. She was smarter, kinder, and far more complex than he’d ever given her credit for being. Even the Kate he’d glimpsed during her job interview had been only the tip of the iceberg. He liked this Kate. Damn, but he liked her a lot.
“You have an odd look on your face,” she said.
“Sorry. Just…thinking.”
Her eyes narrowed teasingly and she prompted, “About?”
Her ring caught the light, drawing his attention and offering the perfect out.
“You said you’d tell me about that.” He reached over and tapped the gemstone of her mother’s ring with the tip of his index finger.
“So I did.”
When her eyes dimmed, he regretted steering the conversation back to a topic that obviously troubled her.
“Look, Kate, we don’t have to—”
“I wear my mom’s ring to remind me never to give up.” The words came out in a rush, almost as if she wasn’t sure she would say them if she took too much time.
“It sounds like she was a fighter,” he replied, trying to recall the few details included in the report he’d received on her late mother. Kate’s words made him think the cause of death had been illness. Cancer, perhaps?
She grunted and her next words stamped out that theory. “She wasn’t. She didn’t fight at all. She just…quit.” Pain stole across her face, there and gone in less than the time it took her to say the words.
And Jonathon thought Kate was like her mother? The woman seated across from him didn’t appear to know the meaning of the word retreat, much less quit. She was determined, tenacious. Ruthless? Cunning? The jury was still out. Regardless, he didn’t see her as weak.
“I’m sorry, Kate.” And he was. He hadn’t intended to pick at a wound that obviously still throbbed.
“I was seventeen when she and my dad divorced. Almost eighteen when she died.”
Questions bubbled inside him, but he kept them in check. Now wasn’t the time. He knew what it was like to lose a parent. Hell, he knew what it was like to lose both.
“Sorry,” he said again and, because the word alone seemed inadequate, he reached over to cover her hand with his. She surprised him by turning her palm up and threading her fingers through his.
They remained that way until their food arrived a few minutes later: two overstuffed submarine sandwiches that would have made the cartoon character Dagwood Bumstead’s mouth water. Brody’s certainly was. There was no need for conversation as they ate. Talking would have been difficult anyway, since a train rumbled past on the nearby elevated track.
Less than half an hour later they had finished eating, paid the tab, and were heading back to Kate’s car, which was parked just up the block from the deli.
“Want to drive?” she asked and dangled the keys out in front of him. Her smile made it clear that the earlier pall cast by talk of her mother’s death had lifted, and for that he was glad.
“You’d trust me with your baby?” He was only half teasing. He knew how attached Kate was to her car.
“Sure. You strike me as a careful, responsible driver.” She winked. “Besides, I know you can afford to fix the damage if we get in an accident.”
They got in her Corvair, she on the passenger side and he behind the steering wheel. He revved the engine to life, felt the hum of it in his bones. “What do you have under the hood?” he asked.
“We don’t know each other well enough for me to answer that.” Her cheeks flushed after she said it, the joke apparently edging a little too close to flirting for her comfort.
While she buckled her seat belt, he attempted to do the same, but without any luck.
“The latch can be temperamental at times,” Kate told him. When a full minute had passed without success, she suggested, “Let me try.”
He raised his hands. “Have at it.”
She reached over and took the clasp in her right hand; her left hand was down near the crease of the seat. Her knuckles grazed his right hip as she tried to force the clasp into the latch. It still wouldn’t catch.
She undid her own belt and scooted closer on the wide bench, levering her left knee onto the seat, rising slightly as she worked the clasp. His hip grew warm where her hand came into contact with it. Traffic whizzed by—cabs, cars, and diesel-fume-spewing buses filled with residents and tourists alike, but he took little notice. The world had narrowed down to him and Kate in the front seat of her classic car. She shifted her position slightly. He felt the hand against his hip move, her knuckles pressing into his muscle, and he sucked in a breath.
Her gaze left the buckle to refocus on his face. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
How to answer that? He laughed, hoping the sound was more mirthful than desperate, and said, “You’re pressing on my Virgo.”
“On your wh-what?” she stammered. She blinked, that one eye sliding closed just a beat behind the other.
“Nothing. No big deal. I was making a joke.” When she continued to stare at him, he added, “I have a tattoo there. That’s all.”
“Oh.” Her mouth rounded. “A Virgo symbol?” At his nod, her gaze lowered again, but not before he saw interest flare in her eyes. She murmured, “And it’s on your hip.”
“Well, technically, most of it is a little farther around the back than that. It’s a rather large tattoo.”
“You mean it’s on your…your…” She dropped back onto the upholstered seat.
“Ass, Kate.” Sexual interest took a back burner to humor. Well, maybe not a back burner, but the heat had cooled enough that his blood no longer felt like lava flowing through his veins. “It’s on my ass.”
“I see.” Her face flushed a becoming shade of scarlet that was totally at odds with the innocuous response. “Well, obviously, I don’t see…”
Oh, but she wanted to, Brody thought. For that matter, she wanted to snatch a peek at much more than his tattoo of a virgin holding a b
undle of wheat. That much was clear from the way Kate moistened her lips. The feeling was mutual. It wasn’t about punishing her father, either, as his friend Seth had suggested. No, it was much more basic, much more primal than even the need for revenge.
God help him, Brody thought. God help them both.
Chapter Six
Kate was glad for the open-air ride back to the office. She needed to clear her head. Hell, she needed to clean up her mind. Oh, the detours it had taken thinking about Brody’s tattooed behind. Detours her body had wanted to take, as well.
Brody was the first to break the strained silence. “You surprise me, Kate.”
She cleared her throat, managed to squeak out, “Really. How so?”
“Letting me drive.”
Oh, right. He was thinking about her car. She was the one thinking about sex. It was all she could do not to slap her forehead for being such a fool.
“I trust you,” she told him again.
For the briefest moment, she saw him frown. Something flashed in his eyes, an emotion that gave her pause. She passed it off as the glare from the sun as they turned on to West Wacker Drive.
“Have you ever been a passenger in your own car before?” Brody asked.
She pursed her lips a moment before replying, “No. Now that you mention it, I haven’t.”
“Then I feel extra special.”
He sent her a lighthearted grin, which she returned, careful not to dwell on the truth in his statement. Why had she handed Brody the keys? For that matter, why had she invited him to lunch, taking him to the one place she thought of as hers? And then told him about her mother, although, thank God, she’d stopped short of telling him she had committed suicide. What would he think of her then? Would he start treading lightly around her the way her father had the day she’d gone to her mother’s apartment expecting to have lunch and found her mom’s lifeless body instead?
He was saying, “And I can’t help but be curious.”
“About?”
“Your tattoo.”
She let out the breath she’d been holding in a surprised whoosh. “My… How do you know I have one?”
“You told me when I was helping you change your tire. Well, you didn’t actually tell me.” He glanced over. “You kind of left it to me to guess.”
“And you think I have one.”
He shook his head. “I know you do. As you said that day, you’re full of surprises.”
“Do you like surprises, Brody?”
“Generally speaking? No. But when it comes to you…I’m beginning to. So?” One eyebrow hiked up on his forehead.
“Well, if you know I do, then you must have an inkling where it’s at.”
“Someplace discreet.”
“Obviously.” She managed to keep her tone bland even as her pulse had started to pound. The conversation was far from professional or even friendly. Indeed, it had crossed the line into intimate territory. Even so, she had no desire to usher it back. She’d tried to toe the line her entire life. Playing it safe was overrated.
“Can you see it when you wear a bathing suit?”
“That depends on the suit,” she answered. “When I swim laps in the pool at the gym, no one is the wiser.”
“One piece, conservatively cut, I take it.”
“That’s right.”
“Racer back?”
“Uh-huh. Basic black.” When she swam at the club, she did so to exercise, not to splash around in the shallow end wearing something revealing.
“But you can see it when you wear a two-piece.”
“Only my string bikini.” She experienced an alarming surge of triumph when she saw his Adam’s apple bob.
Ahead, the traffic light turned red. Once the car was stopped, Brody glanced over. “Would it be in a place similar to mine?”
“No.”
“Higher, then.” Even as he said it, his gaze lowered, stopping at the exposed skin at the base of her throat. Could he see her pulse hammering? Could he hear it? It was drumming in her ears. His eyes flicked back to hers. “Interesting. And the design?”
“A yin-yang symbol,” she admitted. “It’s about the size of a half-dollar. As body art goes, it’s not terribly involved.”
“You weren’t looking for decoration, though. The symbol has meaning to you.” He was guessing. Had to be. Yet he sounded as if he knew.
“Sometimes opposites can complement each other,” she said.
He studied her closely before murmuring, “I’m beginning to think so.”
“Um, Brody?”
“Yeah?” His gaze was on her mouth, and he was leaning toward her.
It seemed a pity to tell him. “The light’s green.”
He snorted out a breath. “So it is.” As he lifted his foot off the brake pedal, his expression was rueful.
…
Kate stretched at her desk and glanced at her watch. It was nearly six o’clock. The afternoon had passed in a blur. There was nothing like being ridiculously busy to make time fly. She closed the files she’d been working on, turned off her computer, and tidied up her desk.
After gathering her things, she headed to the bank of elevators, stopping first at Brody’s door. She didn’t need to tell him she was leaving, but for the past week she had. He was leaning back in his chair, face tipped to the ceiling, eyes closed. She used the opportunity to study him. A hint of dark stubble had appeared on his cheeks and chin, accentuating the boxy contour of his jaw. She liked the look, as unintentional as it was.
“Calling it a day, Kate?”
She startled at the question, which he’d asked without opening his eyes.
“Yes. Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. You looked so…peaceful.” The word didn’t fit, but she didn’t think telling him he looked sexy would be a good idea.
“Just resting my eyes.” The eyes in question were open now, his gaze resting squarely on her.
“You should head home. It’s been a long day. A long week.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” He straightened and shut down his computer.
“Great minds.”
He stood and pulled on his suit coat. “Any exciting plans for the weekend?” he asked as they headed for the elevator.
He was just being conversational, she told herself. Still, she replied, “As it happens, my birthday is Sunday.”
“Really? You’re a Virgo, too.” A ding announced the elevator’s arrival a moment before the doors slid open. They stepped inside.
“I am. Perhaps that explains our like minds.”
“Perhaps. My birthday is Monday.”
“We’re practically twins,” she teased.
He lifted his brow, his expression sardonic, and pushed the button. “Thank God we’re not.”
Not sure how else to respond verbally, even though her body was having no such trouble, she said, “Well, happy birthday in advance.”
“Same to you. Will you be doing anything exciting to celebrate the big three-oh?”
“You’ve looked in my personnel file,” she said with a smile.
“One of the perks of being the boss. But no, I didn’t. I remember seeing an article about a charity function that you attended. The big ball that Chicago’s business titans and local politicians all turn out for.”
“The Bernadette Foundation’s annual Movers and Shakers Mixer,” she supplied. “That was nearly a year ago.”
“Yes, it included a picture of you and mentioned your age. I added a year. So?” he prompted. “How will you celebrate?”
“I was thinking of going skydiving,” she lied, interested in seeing his reaction.
She wasn’t disappointed. His eyes widened almost comically. “Seriously?”
Her laughter echoed in the tight quarters of the elevator. “I’m kidding. I don’t care to travel by plane, much less jump out of one for kicks.”
“Smart, beautiful, and a sense of humor.” His expression grew serious and he reached out to trace a fingertip lightly o
ver the curve of her cheek. His voice was a hoarse whisper when he added, “An irresistible combination.”
Was it? She wanted to believe that even though he’d said the words in jest, he meant them. Most men found her bank account and connections to be among her most alluring qualities. Oh, she wasn’t stupid or falsely modest. Kate knew she was attractive. Her looks were merely the icing on the cake as far as men such as Collin were concerned. Brody, meanwhile, seemed to see below the polished surface to the real woman underneath. The woman she’d tried to show the world in everything from her choice of home to her choice of car. Down-to-earth. Normal. The girl next door—if that girl were a princess. Or an heiress.
They reached their floor. He dropped his hand, took a step back before the elevator doors opened.
“So what will you really do?” he asked as they stepped out.
“On Saturday a friend and I are going to the movies. There’s a film I’ve wanted to see.”
“Which one?”
She rattled off the title, and he grimaced. “I take it your friend is a girl.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because no self-respecting guy would want to sit through that. Why do women like to cry at the movies?”
His question had her laughing. “I don’t know. Why do men like to watch things blow up?”
He shrugged. “So, a chick flick on Saturday with a girlfriend. What about Sunday? Your actual birthday. How are you planning to celebrate that?”
“I’m having dinner with my family.”
“You don’t appear excited about the prospect,” he said quietly. “I never asked, but how does your father feel about your working for me?”
Kate twisted the ring around her finger, her nerves sparking at his quietly asked question. “I’ll let you know after I see him.”
Brody blinked at that. “Are you saying he doesn’t know?”
“Oh, I’m sure he’s been informed.” She glanced away after saying so, regretting her choice of words, since they implied there were spies among the employee ranks. Of course, Brody probably knew that despite his best efforts to cull Jonathon’s faithful from among his workforce, some remained. Perhaps he still wondered about her allegiance, though she’d tried to make it clear her priority was to save the company, regardless of who sat in her father’s corner office.
