by Jane Graves
“Are you going to regret giving up all that profit on the Houston deal?” Alison asked. “Maybe you should have stuck around with Tom and made a few hundred thousand dollars before coming back.”
“If I had, would you have ever believed that I intended to stay here for good? Or would you figure I’d stick around only until the next deal came along?”
“I don’t know.” She paused. “Maybe.”
“I didn’t want to lose you. If I hadn’t given up that deal, I might have. It just wasn’t worth it to me.”
His words sent warm shivers along every nerve in her body, making them hum with pure joy.
“Wait a minute,” Brandon said. “Why aren’t you wearing the blue dress? The tour starts in an hour.”
She shrugged. “After everything that happened, I just didn’t think it would be right.”
“Is the dress ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, go put it on. How else are we supposed to be lord and lady of the manor?”
Right about then, Alison didn’t even need the stairs. She could have floated up to the second floor.
“Tell the truth,” she said. “You just don’t want to be the only one dressed funny.”
“Exactly.”
“I know you don’t like the suit, but it’s hot.”
“Damn right it’s hot. I’m suffocating.”
“Wrong kind of hot,” she said with a smile, trailing her fingertip down his lapel. “You know how old stuff turns me on.”
“Good. At least I know when I start losing my hair and need a prescription for Viagra, you’ll only love me more.” He gave her a soft smile, then brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek and kissed her. “Time’s wasting, sweetheart. Better get dressed.”
But she just couldn’t make her feet do their job. She stood there a moment longer, and her chin started to quiver. Then tears filled her eyes. She took a step forward and wound her arms around his neck again, and he circled his arms around her.
“This is going to be the best day of my life,” she whispered in his ear.
He stroked his hand up and down her back. “It’s already the best day of mine.”
Karen’s reaction to Brandon definitely set the tone for the rest of the day. All the female tour patrons seemed far more interested in viewing Brandon than in viewing his house. Maybe that really was a viable fund-raising opportunity. And if he didn’t want to wear the suit again next year, he could just go naked. Charitable giving to the East Plano Preservation League would go through the roof.
Or maybe Alison would just keep Brandon—naked—to herself.
“Well, we did it,” Heather said as they closed the door behind the last visitor. “I can definitely say that the East Plano Preservation League is far better off financially today than it was yesterday.” She smiled at Alison and Brandon. “And you guys deserve gold stars for getting into the spirit of things and dressing the part. I’m thinking we need to make period costumes part of the home tour every year.”
“No!” they said in unison, then looked at each other and laughed.
“What’s wrong?” Heather asked.
“I already knew I didn’t want to wear an itchy, uncomfortable suit all day,” Brandon said. “But guess who got a taste of her own medicine?”
“God, it was awful,” Alison said. “I couldn’t breathe. I could barely walk in the damned thing. How did women wear dresses like this every day of their lives?”
“But you both look fabulous,” Heather said.
“And next year I’m going to look fabulous in a pair of fat pants with an elastic waistband,” Alison said.
“And I’m going to look fabulous in a pair of sweatpants and a Dallas Cowboys T-shirt,” Brandon said.
Alison smiled at him. “People will demand their money back.”
“But won’t we be comfortable?” He leaned in and gave her a kiss.
“Hey, what did he just do?”
Alison spun around to see her father and Bea coming down the hall. Bea was smiling. Charlie looked confused.
Bea poked him. “So I need to explain the birds and bees to you?”
“I know all about the birds and bees. What do you think? A stork dropped Alison through the chimney?” He turned to Brandon. “I thought you couldn’t date my daughter because you’re her matchmaker. So what’s the deal with that?”
“She’s no longer a client,” Brandon said, still staring at Alison.
“Huh?”
“His job was to match her up,” Bea said. “And it looks as if he did a damned fine job of it.”
Charlie turned to Alison. “Well, I guess he beats that gay interior designer you used to date.”
Alison sighed. “Dad. I told you. He wasn’t gay. The Harley guy…he was gay.”
“I still don’t believe that.”
“Well, Brandon isn’t gay,” Bea said, “so it’s a moot point. Come on, Charlie. Let’s head to McCaffrey’s. I could use a drink.”
But on their way to the front door, her father proved that he wasn’t nearly as clueless as he acted. He looked back at Alison and gave her a furtive wink and an approving smile, and she read the gesture loud and clear. Good choice, kid. Hang on to him.
As Bea and Charlie left the house, Alison went to the window and watched them walk side by side toward the street where her father’s truck was parked. Halfway there, he eased closer to Bea. After a few more steps, his hand rose to the small of her back. A small, wispy memory drifted through Alison’s mind, slowly coming into focus: her mother strolling down a sidewalk with her father, and that same warm, protective hand was guiding her.
Brandon came up beside Alison and slipped his arm around her. “Your father seems happy.”
“He is.”
“I think Bea is, too.”
“I think you’re right.”
“And so am I.” He kissed her hair and pulled her closer. “What do you think, Alison? Do we have a family in the making?”
In light of everything that had happened that day, just the word “family” was enough to make tears come to her eyes.
“Stop it,” she said. “You’re going to make me cry, and I look like hell with runny mascara.”
“Would it help if I told you I love you, runny mascara and all?”
Alison smiled. This day just got better and better.
Heather came up behind them. “Hey, are you guys coming to the bar? Tony’s already there. The first drink’s on us.”
“I never turn down free drinks,” Alison said. “But one’s my limit.”
“Hey, Heather,” Brandon said. “I’ll give you twenty bucks to tell me the state fair story.”
Alison looked at Heather, raising a warning eyebrow.
“Sorry,” Heather said. “What happens at the state fair stays at the state fair.” She gave Alison a hug and whispered, “I’m just so glad things worked out.”
“Yeah,” Alison whispered back. “Me, too.”
Heather left the house, only to poke her head back in the door. “Hey, you guys have a package on the porch. UPS delivery.”
Brandon stepped out onto the porch and brought a big, flat box inside.
“Wonder what it is?” Brandon said.
Alison glanced at the return address and smiled. “Let’s find out.”
They took the box to the living room and sat down on the sofa. Brandon opened it. And when he saw what was inside, a smile of contentment spread across his face.
It was a yard sign. Heartstrings. Tying Two Hearts Together Forever.
Alison thought about how she’d felt when all this began, back during that time when she’d been so eager to help him. She couldn’t have imagined what would happen between then and now to give this sign ten times more meaning than it could ever have had before.
“I ordered it weeks ago,” she said. “It was supposed to be here long before now. Do you like it?”
“I love it,” he said, holding it up. “It looks as if my grandmother’s busi
ness is mine now, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, it does. Shall we put it up?”
They took the sign out to the front yard. Brandon pulled up the Matchmaking by Rochelle sign and set it aside. He pushed the stakes of the new sign into the ground, and they backed away to look at it.
“It’s perfect,” he said.
They admired it a little while longer, and then he walked back over and picked up the old sign. He held it a moment, his expression growing solemn. A look of remorse filled his eyes.
“As I got older, I knew I needed to go back to see my grandmother. To make amends. To show her I wasn’t the kid she remembered. And I think I would have eventually. But then one day passed, and another, and another. And then…” He swallowed hard. “And then she was gone.”
Alison put her hand around his waist and lay her head against his shoulder, standing with him in the late afternoon sunlight as he continued to stare at the sign.
“You said my grandmother would be proud of me for taking over her business,” Brandon said. “Do you still think so?”
“Yes. I do.”
He was silent for several more seconds, a hint of sorrow crossing his face. “I never told her I loved her.”
“Did you?” Alison said.
“I barely knew what love was back then.”
“Do you now?”
He turned and looked down at her. “Yeah,” he said, his lips edging into a gentle smile. “I think I do.”
“I have an idea,” Alison said.
“What?”
“Let’s put the old sign in the backyard. For just the two of us to see.”
They walked around to the backyard, where Brandon planted the sign near the patio in the shade of the old magnolia tree. Then they sat down on the glider together. As Alison curled up in Brandon’s arms and he rocked them gently back and forth, she decided relationships weren’t about modest expectations, and that soul mate thing wasn’t a crock after all. Brandon had told her once to forget ordinary, that she should be looking for somebody extraordinary.
And she’d finally found him.
A good girl can be bad for one night…
but can a bad boy be good for a lifetime?
*
Please turn this page for an excerpt from
Black Ties and Lullabies
Available now
Chapter 1
Bernadette Hogan wished that when this night was over, she could tell Jeremy Bridges to go to hell. She was about ten times more emotionally stable than the average person, but if she had to spend one more evening watching him pick up vacuous blond women for fun and recreation, she was going to go insane. Yeah, he attended all these charity events as the philanthropic CEO of Sybersense Systems, but in the end it wasn’t about generosity. It was about putting one more notch in his hand-carved Louis XIV bedpost.
But it wasn’t Bernie’s job to plan a principal’s itinerary. Her job was to protect him wherever he decided to go. And, of course, there was the small matter of the outrageous amount of money he paid her to put up with this nonsense, money she was going to need desperately in the coming years. So she kept that resignation letter only in her head, staring at it longingly with her mind’s eye every time he aggravated her to the breaking point.
Tonight would be one of those times.
Carlos pulled the limo into the driveway of the San Moritz Hotel behind a string of unusually small and sedate vehicles. Tonight, it seemed, the filthy rich of Dallas society had left their Mercedeses and Beemers and gas-guzzling Hummers in their five-car garages, opting instead for their hybrids and electric cars.
Bernie sighed. “So which environmental cause are we championing this evening?”
Jeremy’s brows drew together thoughtfully. “Hmm. Good question.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out an invitation. “Ah. Global warming. Emphasis on diminishing polar bear habitats.”
“And here you are in your limo. Last I checked, it gets about nine miles to the gallon. People are staring.”
“People are hypocrites.”
“True, but it’s all about appearances.”
“It’s all about comfort,” Jeremy said. “I didn’t make all this money to cram myself into a car the size of a shoebox.”
“You don’t seem to mind cramming yourself inside your Ferrari.”
“The Ferrari doesn’t count. It’s the only vehicle on earth that makes it worth giving up my wet bar and HDTV.”
With that, he drained his Glenlivet and set the empty glass down with a contented sigh. There wasn’t much that Jeremy denied himself in the way of creature comforts. He drank the best Scotch, lived in a gazillion-dollar house, traveled the world, and dated women who were knockout gorgeous with brains the size of golf balls. Nice to look at, Jeremy had told Bernie more than once, without all that pesky intelligence to get in the way of a good time.
Bernie sighed. With that one statement, he singlehandedly set feminism back fifty years.
There had been a time when total professionalism had dictated the way she dealt with Bridges. Yes, sir. No, sir. Very good, sir. But the longer she worked for him, the more she spoke her mind. Her attitude didn’t mean she didn’t take her job seriously. It just meant she had an outlet for the irritation she felt around him just about every minute of every day. Fortunately, because Jeremy was a bored rich guy who refused to play by the rules, a smartass bodyguard seemed to suit him just fine. Good thing, because if she had to hold her tongue around him, she’d probably end up killing him herself.
“Are you planning on tying that tie?” she asked him.
Jeremy looked down at the tie dangling around his neck. “The invitation said I had to wear a black tie. It didn’t say how I had to wear it.”
“Did it also say you had to wear athletic shoes?”
“No,” he said with a smile. “That’s my fashion statement.”
Truth be told, Jeremy could show up in what he usually wore in his spare time—crappy cargo shorts, a Rangers’ T-shirt, and flip-flops—and they’d still let him in. If he wrote a big enough check, he could show up stark naked. But it wasn’t like him to be in their faces about it. He always dressed well enough that they would admit him without question, but just shabby enough that they wished they didn’t have to. Now that he was thirty-seven years old, Bernie thought maybe he ought to knock off the eccentricities and play it straight, but hell would probably freeze over first.
Over the years, the press had tried to dig up any dirt that might explain his quirkiness, but except for the basics, his background remained something of a mystery. He had grown up in Houston with his father. Mother unknown. Graduated from Texas Southwestern University. Short stint as a software engineer before starting his own company, which eventually became Sybersense. Except for more current professional and civic activities, that was about it.
Bernie looked at the rich folks strolling into the hotel and sighed. “Must we do this?”
“Now, Bernie. This is a very special occasion. After all, how many times in this city does somebody have a benefit for such an outstanding cause and invite all the rich, pretty people?”
“About once a week.”
“Exactly! Not nearly often enough. It’s time for us to party.”
“Us?”
“Okay. So it’s time for me to party and you to watch for bad guys. Everyone should stick with what they do best.”
Bernie glared at him. “It’s a credible threat this time, you know.”
“That also happens about once a week.”
He was right. When a man had Jeremy’s money and influence, somebody was always out to get him. She was reasonably certain the recent death threat had something to do with Sybersense’s new medical management software that was due to launch early next year. Word on the street was that it was so revolutionary that it would forever change the way the medical industry conducted its business and bring untold riches right to Bridges’s doorstep. But in order to accomplish that, he’d executed host
ile takeovers of two of his hottest rivals, which allowed him, among other things, to cherry-pick the best and brightest programmers and other employees who could help him develop and market his new product. Then he kicked the rest to the curb. Unfortunately, that had removed a lot of formerly wealthy, high-powered executives from the gravy train at their respective companies and given them a reason to want to see Sybersense fail or Jeremy dead. Or both.
But in Bernie’s experience, the threat could also be coming from somebody who drove a taxi or washed windows who decided he didn’t like rich guys, which was why she had to stay vigilant.
Bernie felt pretty certain this event would be the harmless experience it seemed to be on the surface, but there was no way for her or Jeremy to know that for sure. All Bernie knew was that every time she tried to figure out why he behaved the way he did, she realized how pointless that was and merely concentrated on keeping his body and soul together.
“Don’t you ever get bored doing this?” she asked him.
“What? Going to charity events?”
“No. Going to charity events, picking up Paris Hilton wannabes, and having your way with them.”
“Oh. Well, when you put it like that…” His mouth turned up in a cocky smile. “Nope. Doesn’t bore me at all.”
“Good God, I hope you practice safe sex.”
“Of course. You never know when some dread disease will rear its ugly head. Your concern is heartwarming.”
“Concern, my ass. I just want you to do the world a favor and keep your genetic material to yourself.”
“Not to worry,” he said, patting his pants pocket. “I’m nothing if not prepared.”
She shook her head. The man singlehandedly kept the latex industry afloat.
“Why go to all the trouble of attending these events?” she asked. “Why not just stay home and order out?”
“Order out?”
“Haul out your little black book and take your pick. Send Carlos to pick her up.”
“But if I did that, I wouldn’t have the opportunity to… what is it we’re doing again?”
