by Tina Beckett
The Jenkinses, on the other hand, had been open with their emotions and vocal as hell when someone had done something wrong. Ben Jenkins had chewed his butt up one side and down the other after his motorcycle accident. Threatened to take his bike to the junkyard if he ever pulled another stunt like that.
Wonder what the man would think about him taking his daughter for a ride on the back of that very same bike?
Chloe broke into his thoughts. “I think I’ve got it covered if you want to take a shower. Besides, this is the only apron I could find in the house.” It took him a second to realize what she was talking about.
The apron had been in his house? A couple of women had cooked for him over the years, but it was normally breakfast. One of them had evidently expected to stick around.
A pang went through him. Had he hurt someone the way Chloe’s ex had hurt her?
No, because he never made any promises. If anything, he cut relationships shorter for just that reason. Before that claustrophobic sensation of being trapped had time to set in. He didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.
He took a step back, wondering what was with all his melancholy thoughts tonight. It had to be because of his patient. Something about the look on her husband’s face when he’d realized his wife was still alive … was going to survive her ruptured uterus. He’d seemed to take on a glow that had transcended the sorrow of losing his unborn child. The man had taken one last look at the stained-glass cross then had closed his eyes as if sending up a quick thank-you prayer before he hurried from the room, leaving Brad alone.
He’d wandered over to one of the chairs and sat down, hands draped over the pew in front of him, realizing he’d never really visited the chapel before. But there was something peaceful about it, whether it was because of the décor or because of some spiritual presence, he didn’t know. What he did know was that it had made him want to find Chloe.
Only she hadn’t been there.
Instead, she was here, fixing him dinner.
He relaxed a little bit more. “I’ll get changed.”
“Good. I’ll uncork the wine.” She motioned to the bottle on the counter. One of his better bottles from the look of it, but what the hell?
He smiled for the first time that day. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, then. Don’t start without me.”
“Absolutely not.”
Evidently ten minutes was all the man needed to look and smell heavenly, because when she turned to check the cabinets for a tureen or something to put the pasta sauce in he was propped against the door frame, watching her. She let out a little squeak before she could stop it. “How long have you been standing there?”
“About a minute and a half.”
Heat rushed up her face when she realized her gaze was trailing down his chest and had landed just below his belt buckle. “I, um … was just looking for a couple of bowls for the pasta and sauce.”
His lips quirked as if he realized exactly what she’d been doing. “Well, by all means, let me help.”
Without saying anything else, he opened cabinet doors until he found a couple of good-sized bowls.
His scent filled her head, making her feel slightly dizzy. She shook it in an effort to clear it. “I like your china pattern. I wouldn’t have thought you were much for flowers, though.”
The delicate gold rimming the plates and the pink roses were definitely not what she would have thought he’d pick out for himself. When he frowned, her thoughts froze. Had some past or present lover bought him dishes?
She swallowed. Not that it was any of her business but she’d already set the table with them as she hadn’t been able to find any other plates in his cupboards.
He tilted one of the bowls as if seeing it for the first time. “My mother sent them as a house-warming gift.”
“That was nice.”
He gave a hard laugh. “You would think so, wouldn’t you? My mom always knows just the right thing to say or do. She’s a master at managing and meeting expectations—and instilling that trait in others. It’s all about doing what’s expected of you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
DID BRAD KNOW how bitter those words sounded?
Probably not. Her heart ached for him. Her own parents were so involved in their kids’ lives—sometimes too involved—that she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have parents as detached at his parents had always seemed to be.
“People can change,” she said. “Maybe your mom really was trying to be nice.”
“I’m sure she was.” The tight-lipped response told her he didn’t buy her theory.
Maybe Brad was right. Chloe knew from experience that some people never did change.
Once everything was on the table, they ate in silence. Brad complimented the food but didn’t seem to be in a hurry to start any kind of conversation. The silence eventually got to her. She cleared her throat. “How’s the hunt for a new nurse coming? Have you had any applicants?”
“I had several interviews today, as a matter of fact.”
“That’s great.”
So soon? Her heart plummeted, landing somewhere around her knees. She knew he was going to look for someone else. Knew she was due back at her old job in less than a week, but it wasn’t easy hearing how painless it would be to replace her.
Why wouldn’t it be? Travis had replaced her before she’d even officially left the marriage.
Besides, the sooner Brad got her out of the hospital and out of his hair, the sooner he could go back to his old, free-wheeling lifestyle. Who knew? Katrina might even stroll back into the picture as soon as the coast was clear.
She swallowed, trying to blot out the wave of self-pity that sloshed through her stomach. Chloe Jenkins: invisible and most certainly expendable.
Getting up from the table, she picked up her plate and headed for the safety of the kitchen, thanking the dinner gods that she’d finished eating because there was no way she’d be able to force down one more bite. The cheesecake in the refrigerator was going to have to wait.
She heard the scrape of Brad’s chair and tensed in front of the sink. He came in and laid his hands on her shoulders. “You okay?”
“Just fine. There’s cheesecake in the fridge if you want dessert.”
“I’m good.” He turned her to face him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She was so desperate to avoid his gaze that she threw out the first thing she could think of. “Do you want another glass of wine?”
He searched her face. “Let’s take the bottle into the living room and sit for a while. You can tell me about your day.”
Uh … he already knew everything about her day because they worked together. She saw almost exactly the same patients as he did. But right now she was more than grateful for an excuse to slide away from him. And one more glass of wine wouldn’t do her in.
Whiskey, however … Yeah, she didn’t want a repeat of her first night at the apartment. She’d drink a second glass and then retreat to her room or the kitchen. She could always say she needed to do the dishes.
“I’ll get the table and the dishes later on. Just leave everything where it is.”
Had the man read her mind? She sure hoped not, because there were things inside her head she did not want him to find.
Picking up her glass as Brad retrieved the bottle of wine along with his own wineglass, they made their way to the living room. Chloe was reminded of that fateful first time she’d sat here—how horrified she’d been at what she’d been wearing beneath her coat.
That seemed like a lifetime ago. Maybe it was. What had seemed like the closing of a chapter was more like the final page of a book. The new one, full of crisp white pages, was just waiting for the right opening line. Only she had no idea what that sentence would be.
Chloe sat on the brown leather sofa, glad when he didn’t choose to sit in front of her on the ottoman again. Instead, he settled in the space beside her and lifted the bottle of wine to fill her glass. She duti
fully held it out and watched the clear liquid trickle until it hit the halfway point. He did the same with his own then set the bottle on a side table.
As there was no way he simply wanted to talk about her day, she wondered if he was trying to find a tactful way to get her out of his apartment. She decided to take the bull by the horns.
“Did you have any luck with the interviews?”
He leaned back against the cushions, his right arm sliding along the top of it. She swore she felt the tip of her ponytail move in the process. “None. So I’ve been doing some thinking.”
“You have?”
He gave a soft laugh. “As surprising as that may seem to you, I do think from time to time.”
This time the bobbing of her ponytail was not her imagination. What was he doing back there?
The continued subtle tugging on her hair was beginning to give her that weird quivery feeling in her stomach again. She cleared her throat in an attempt to take her mind off it, hoping he’d start talking again. “And what have you been thinking about?”
In a casual move he propped his left ankle on his right knee and shifted his body to face her. “How attached are you to your current job?”
Oh, God. He was trying to get rid of her. Wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to cause a scene when he found her replacement. “Don’t worry, I’m not desperate for a job. I already have one, remember?”
“So you wouldn’t be interested in staying at Angel’s on a more permanent basis?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.” She thought she’d just made it clear that she wasn’t angling for the position.
“Aren’t you?”
Bewildered, she shook her head.
The subtle brush of something soft across the nape of her neck made her swallow. The warmth in her stomach increased. He was trailing the tip of her ponytail across her skin, and her gaze somehow landed on his mouth before she yanked it back up to his eyes. Was he trying to drive her crazy?
“Would you stay at Angel’s, if I asked you to?”
Her thoughts moved slowly, as if slogging their way through thick molasses. “You want me to stay?”
“I thought I’d made that obvious at the beginning of the conversation.”
“No—I thought. I thought you were trying to tell me not to get too comfortable.” She licked her lips. “Are you offering me the position?”
His mouth curved in that slow, devastating smile that wreaked havoc on her senses. “That depends. Would you say yes?”
She wanted to, heaven knew. But something about the way he said it—along with that damned sweep of hair across her neck—made alarm bells go off in her head.
“Did Jason put you up to this?”
“Jason? No, of course not.” His smile faded.
She gulped. She could only think of one other possibility. “Are you doing it because you think it’s expected?”
The sudden darkening of his eyes told her she’d made a serious gaffe. The prickly sensation on her nape halted. He’d just talked about his mother giving him a set of dishes because it was the expected thing to do. Equating his actions with hers was not a good thing.
“Is that what you think of me, Chloe?”
“No, of course not. I didn’t mean—I know you’re actually …”
“Actually what?”
“A nice person.” Something else she’d said about his mother’s gift. Wow, she was really hitting them out of the park this evening.
He laughed, the hand in her hair tightening, forcing her to look at him. “I’m really not, Chloe. Just ask your brother. I think he might know me better than I know myself.”
The pounding in her chest couldn’t be her heart, could it? Because she could barely believe he was offering her the perfect way to leave her old life behind. And although she wanted to grab it before he changed his mind, she had to be sure he really wanted her to stay.
“Why do you want me here?” She touched his hand. “And please don’t tell me it’s because you feel sorry for me. I—I couldn’t bear it.”
Swish. Her hair brushed the side of her neck this time, sliding under her chin, along her jaw. Her breath caught in her throat.
“You’re good at your job. The patients and the staff all like you. And I know I can work with you.” Another tug on her hair. “So please don’t compare me with my mother.”
“Sorry about that.” She smiled. “Jason told me what you had to deal with.”
His head tilted. “And what was that?”
Uh-oh. “He didn’t gossip about you, Brad. He just came home so angry one day I thought he was going to explode.”
“Angry at me?”
“No. At your parents.” She paused. “I pulled him into the backyard and pestered him until he finally let it slip.”
“Let what slip?”
“That your parents had padlocks on …” She swallowed. “That they used to lock you out of the house sometimes.” The words sounded horrific when said out loud, and Chloe immediately wished she could call them back.
She wasn’t about to admit what else she knew. That a teenage Brad—as tough and cynical as the best of them—had fought back tears as he’d told Jason what he’d endured. His parents hadn’t merely locked him out of the house—that had been during his later years. But when he’d been younger, his mother had routinely locked him in a closet in his bedroom whenever he’d done something she hadn’t liked. Jason had seen one of the locks and asked about them.
Brad hadn’t understood why his parents hadn’t loved him the way Chloe and Jason’s parents loved their kids. The way they loved him.
His motorcycle accident had happened a mere week after his confession. Chloe was pretty sure it hadn’t been a coincidence. She could remember her terror when she’d seen the damage to his face, his shredded T-shirt … bleeding arm.
Brad had gone very still at her words. Well, most of him, anyway. One small muscle in his cheek was tensing and releasing in a slow, methodical movement that held her captive. Made her mouth go dry.
For a second she thought he was going to withdraw his offer and get up and leave, but he didn’t. He sat there, without saying a word, until that muscle finally went still. “I don’t want to talk about my parents.”
“Okay.” She pulled in a breath, relief going through her. She was just as desperate to change the subject as he was. “What do you want to talk about?”
Her ponytail, which had gone slack over the last couple of minutes, went taut again with a couple of quick bumps, and she realized he’d wrapped it around his hand. He used it to tip her head back an inch or two.
“I don’t want to talk at all.”
The pupils in his eyes grew, turning black. With anger?
Maybe. But Brad wouldn’t hurt her. She knew that without a doubt. “What do you want to do, then?”
“Something your brother warned me not to.”
Panic started to skitter up her spine, coming face to face with a warm, lethargic wave of need that was traveling down it. The two battled for control of her central nervous system while her vocal cords acted of their own accord. “And what is that?”
“This.” Brad’s pupils swam before her eyes, until they came so close she could no longer see them. Then his mouth covered hers in a searing kiss.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SHE EXPECTED TO feel fear. There was none.
A man was using her hair to hold her prisoner—the way Travis used to do. Was devouring her mouth like he couldn’t get enough of her, and all she felt was elation.
That couldn’t be right.
Neither could the way her lips were pressing closer, parting to actually invite him in of their own accord instead of clamping shut to prevent the unwanted invasions of the past.
Because this was different.
Brad may have kissed her to shut her up, but she hadn’t realized until now how desperately she’d wanted to repeat that day at the park.
There was no mistaking this for flirtation, tho
ugh. This kiss was all business. And she couldn’t get enough of it.
A small sound exited her throat. Her eyelids slammed shut as the whirling emotions caught her up in a funnel cloud, sweeping her along some unknown path. He let go of her ponytail, his hands going to either side of her face, thumbs lining the hollows beneath her cheekbones.
His tongue took her up on her invitation and she tensed for a second as it slid past her lips, but despite the desperation she sensed in his kiss he didn’t hurt her. Didn’t force his way in and cut the tender insides of her mouth with his teeth.
This was exploratory. Feeling his way. Brushing along her tongue. Licking the roof of her mouth. The backs of her teeth.
Some instinct had her tightening around him, forming a channel that guided him, squeezed him. Coaxed him to stroke her.
A low groan met her ears as he did just that.
He liked it.
Brad hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t given her a blow-by-blow list of instructions on what he wanted her to do. And yet—as his hand moved to cup the back of her neck and the friction of his tongue across hers set her on fire—she knew.
Her arms wound around his neck, grateful just to let herself feel for once—not have to do something someone else wanted.
Yet somehow she was. The confusion of it all tangled up inside her, but she let it. She could try to unravel it later. But right now …
Umm …
His lips left hers and trailed along her cheek, kissing each of her eyelids. She wanted him back where he’d been. Hadn’t finished kissing him yet. But even as she lifted her head to find his mouth again, he stayed on track with whatever he was doing. Kissing the tip of her nose. Her chin. Nudging it up so he could slide beneath it.
Okay, so she could kiss him again later. Because what he was doing right now was … was …
Fantastic.
The heat of his mouth continued down her throat then roamed back up the side of it until he reached her ear. And bit it gently.
