Falling for the Brother

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “I wouldn’t say Bruce and I are working together,” he continued while she attempted to get breath into her lungs. And grasp what he was saying. “We’re talking. And doing better than we have in years. But this investigation is mine.”

  Yes, the investigation. The world righted itself.

  “I never doubted the case was yours.” Mason was as good a cop as they came. Not that Bruce wasn’t. But Bruce being a good cop meant subterfuge...

  Maybe that was true for Mason, too.

  Bruce seemed to think he and his brother were on the same wavelength when it came to work. That he was just like Mason. And had learned everything he knew from his older brother. Was proud of the fact, actually.

  “He told me to ask you about Gwen coming to your house after midnight on Tuesday, I think it was.” Bruce had said Tuesday. He’d been certain of that.

  The night he’d been in the bar with her, when he’d told her about Bruce sleeping with Gwen, not a perp. About him being at a bachelor party, not at work. Mason had driven back to Albina that night and then had Gwen over?

  “He said he’d intended to mention it to you himself, but forgot.”

  Mason’s eyes narrowed again. If he’d been anyone else, she might have been intimidated. Or pushed into being aggressive.

  “Yet he suddenly remembers when he’s on the phone with you?” he asked, his voice filled with more than that question. And yet...not anger or accusation, either.

  “I...kind of mentioned her.” She’d hoped not to have to admit that part. “He’d...told me he loved me...”

  Mason’s lids lowered. He glanced away. She’d known she hadn’t wanted to tell him.

  “He was...talking like maybe we should consider trying again. I asked him about Gwen and had he ever slept with her.”

  “And he pointed the finger at me?”

  Wait. Did that mean that Mason had slept with her the other night? After the time they’d spent in the bar together? And talked on the phone as he was driving home, too?

  “No.” There was no accusation in her voice, either Just sadness. “He admitted the truth to me. Said he figured I’d found out and that was why I really divorced him. The night before Bruce had told me about being unfaithful that last time—and that really was with a perp—Gwen and I had gone out for a beer. Miriam was with Brianna and it was my first night out since giving birth. It was supposed to have been with Bruce but then he’d had to work. He said he assumed she’d told me that night. About the bachelor party.”

  “Why on earth would she do something like that?”

  “She didn’t. But he thought she had because we’d been female cops together and she felt guilty. At least that was what he said.”

  Mason didn’t seem to have much of a reaction. Just sat there looking interested in her conversation.

  “Did Gwen ever contact you?” he asked.

  “No. Not about that. The first I’d heard of Gwen’s...involvement was when you told me.”

  “But you believe he only slept with her once?”

  “What would be the point of lying about it now? Why would he bother? We’re divorced.” She thought over her conversation with Bruce. “I didn’t even ask. He was just telling me why he thought she’d told me.”

  “Do you care? Whether he’s been sleeping with her since?”

  “Has he?”

  He shrugged. “I have no idea.” He watched her, as though waiting.

  Did she care? How was that pertinent to Miriam or the paternity question?

  “I care that he slept with her the night of his bachelor party.” Which didn’t answer his question.

  He didn’t push.

  But she had to. “So...what about her being at your place the other night.” What business was it of hers? Even if she had feelings for him, they weren’t anything she could act on.

  His eventual nod shut down a good deal of the emotion that had been swarming inside her.

  He’d been with Gwen this week, and he hadn’t so much as mentioned it—knowing he’d just told her that her ex-husband had been unfaithful to her with the woman.

  And yet...why shouldn’t Mason be with her? It wasn’t like Harper had any kind of intimate relationship with him. Or ever would.

  He had no responsibility for the feelings she had toward him. Feelings she hadn’t even shared with him. She’d barely admitted them to herself.

  “She showed up drunk and angry, came at me for going after Bruce, and then puked in my bathroom, after which I drove her home.”

  Oh. Emotion surged again. A load of it. The kind that made you think of flowers blooming, their scent filling the air, and soft petals scattered over naked skin...

  Thankfully her brain kicked into gear. “Did Bruce tell her you were going after her? As part of the investigation?”

  “She claims not. I met with her Thursday morning. She was sober, but no less judgmental. She wouldn’t tell me how she’d found out. For all I know O’Brien said something to her, thinking she’d roll on Bruce if there was any truth to the claims about Miriam. She told me she hadn’t spoken with Bruce since before that happened. I couldn’t find any proof that she had.”

  “I’m sure he’s been at the bar, where all the Albina cops hang out.”

  “I wasn’t going to go in there asking around. We’re trying to keep the investigation from touching Bruce’s career.”

  “Thank God, now that we know he didn’t do it.”

  Mason didn’t respond. But he watched her with an expression that looked like he wanted to tell her more. Leaving her crazy with the need to know.

  And sane enough to move past both.

  “Did you ask him about her?” Harper asked.

  “No. I asked him what I needed to with regard to Gram. How Gwen found out isn’t relevant to that.”

  “Unless Bruce was trying to insert himself into the investigation through Gwen.”

  “Why would he do that if he’s innocent? And,” he added, “how did Bruce know Gwen had been at my house?”

  “She told him.” He’d said as much. “At the bar Thursday night, after she met with you. Said she wanted him to know in case he heard about it.”

  “Did she say anything else?”

  “He said no. But he thought it was odd that she felt she had to tell him about it.”

  “Or he wanted you to know she’d been at my house late at night.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Bruce might not be an elder abuser, but Bruce is still Bruce,” he said. “I’m beginning to think he doesn’t realize he reframes things to manipulate people into his camp. I’ll even go so far as to say it’s possible he means no harm—that it’s only to get, or keep himself, in people’s good books—but he does it.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. “He did mention her after I told him I knew he’d slept with her.” Which was her response to Bruce’s suggesting they think about trying again.

  “You’d consider getting back with him?”

  “Hell, no!” She pressed her lips together when she heard the adamant tone of the response that slipped out. And then, looking at him, said, “I can’t. Not feeling the way I do for—” She stopped herself again, still looking at him.

  His expression didn’t change from respectful interest. She wanted that one night back. Even if she only got it for one more night. She needed to know she hadn’t imagined the complete and utter joy she’d found with him. Not just the sex, but the entire night.

  “My reasons for divorcing Bruce were valid. They still are.” She had to break the silence. “I don’t trust him to stay faithful. His undercover persona blurs too many lines.”

  He was still watching her.

  “I’m the type of woman who needs complete monogamy in a relationship.” Just in case he didn’t know that. How could he? She’d given him a one-ni
ghter and then married his brother the next week.

  “I’ve got a warrant to question Elmer Guthrie, the neighbor, when I get back to town this afternoon. That’s for your ears only.”

  She nodded. Thankful he’d rescued them from the dangerous and stupid path she’d veered onto.

  “I’ll keep you posted on the rest of the investigation from here on out,” he added. “You’re a witness, but you’re also a cop. Since Bruce opened that door, I don’t see any harm.”

  She smiled. A damned foolish thing to do in a professional situation. His letting her “in” was professional, not personal. Not worthy of a smile. She felt she should explain, but couldn’t come up with anything that wouldn’t be equally imbecilic.

  “Grace had never heard of Elmer.” He didn’t seem in any hurry to leave—not that he really had anyplace to be until Grace was ready to go home.

  “Bruce said she’d had him to the house for dinner a time or two.”

  “Yeah, that’s what he told me. Tax records show that Elmer bought his place right about the time Miriam broke off her friendship with Grace.”

  His puzzle pieces were all falling into place. He had to be happy about that.

  “I’d like to talk about how we’re going to handle things where Bruce is concerned if the paternity test comes back positive.”

  Her heart pounded. There it was again. That surge of emotion that seemed to clog up her entire chest—leaving no room for air.

  For a woman not prone to drama, she sure seemed to be wallowing in it all of a sudden.

  “It’s going to be a tough one,” she said, cringing at the thought of that conversation. “He doesn’t deserve it. He’s Brianna’s dad...” She couldn’t make that one right.

  Or come to terms with the idea that her action—and Mason’s—could have such painful repercussions for someone else. How did you live with something like that and still like yourself? She studied the top of her desk, the calendar, in-box, stack of files. Her cell phone lying there.

  “I was going to suggest we not say anything for now.”

  Raising her head, she stared at him, wanting to grab the lifeline he’d just offered. Could it be that simple? All of this could just go away? “Brianna’s too young to understand...” He’d started to speak again. “We should give ourselves time to adjust, to figure out, as her parents, how we’re going to handle the situation. We can get finances set up for her, that kind of thing.”

  “Bruce pays child support and half of any extra expenses.”

  “That’s fine. Although he’d probably have grounds to sue you later for any monies you take from him after you find out.”

  “I can open a special account for his money. Not use any of it.”

  Were they really making plans as though his being Brie’s father was a real possibility?

  “So, we’re agreed? If the test is positive, it stays between you and me for now?”

  She nodded. Scared because she liked the idea of her and Mason being partners in something. Having no idea what she was getting into with him. No matter what the test said.

  Then, without giving herself a chance to think, she stood up and said, “We’re here at the Stand. You’re a cop. Here on official business. Kids are used to police officers coming around...”

  She was babbling. He was staring.

  “You want me to go meet her? As a cop visiting the Stand?”

  Brianna wouldn’t think anything of a police officer visiting the day care. If she talked about it, no one else would think anything of it, either.

  Crippled by guilt, and driven by emotions welling up from deep inside her, she couldn’t take the words back. He had a right to know his own flesh and blood, even if she was his niece, not his daughter.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  WHAT DAMNED FOOL thing did he think he was doing? Walking beside a uniformed Harper, fighting fantasies of her wearing the uniform for him—with nothing on underneath—Mason knew he had no business going where he was going.

  Even if she was his.

  Brianna.

  He liked the name. He’d seen pictures of the little girl on Gram’s refrigerator—and could see that she had Thomas blood in her. She was blonde like her mother, had Harper’s blue eyes, but the nose and chin were all them. It was something that always set them apart. And, in his opinion, looked great on a girl.

  Until Brianna came along, Thomas men had only produced male offspring.

  There was so much he wanted to say as he kept stride with Harper along the sidewalk that led from her office section around to the building that housed the day care. But he suspected that if he opened his mouth he’d say too much.

  “The building actually connects from inside,” she said, breaking the silence between them. Their hands bumped as they took a step out of synch and she jerked back, stepping away from him. The feel of her touch lingered. Calmed the doubts raging through him for a long moment.

  “But this way is shorter and I always take the outdoor route any chance I get,” she continued. He wanted to stop her. Didn’t.

  And then they were about to enter a door that would take them to Brianna’s classroom door. He could tell because Harper was still babbling on about buildings and such.

  It was so unlike Harper, he touched her shoulder and came to a halt. She looked up at him, and it was like they’d gotten naked right there on the sidewalk for all the world to see.

  “Are you sure about doing this?” he asked. “I understand if you’re not. I’m not going to push, either way.”

  “Do you want to see her?”

  More than he wanted just about anything. But...it might kill him, too. Because he’d missed so much.

  “I have a clearer understanding of what it means to open Pandora’s box,” he said, and wasn’t surprised when she nodded with understanding.

  “It’s up to you,” she said.

  “Of course I want to see her! I’ve wanted to see her since the minute she was born. Even if she’s not my daughter, she’s my niece. She’s a Thomas. Family.”

  He’d put it out there—the words that he’d denied himself every single time he’d walked into Gram’s house and seen those pictures on the fridge. Every time he’d talked to her after a weekend visit. Bruce was family, too. Not talking to him for all those years had been wrong.

  And yet, by his own action, he’d left himself no choice. He’d put Bruce in a corner. Forced his brother to protect himself.

  Harper touched his arm. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

  “Let’s do this,” he said, looking straight ahead as she led the way inside.

  Brianna’s door was to the right. Harper peered through the small viewing window at the top, and then, without giving him a chance to change his mind, to change anything, she opened the door and walked in, leaving him to follow her as she and the teacher met halfway across the room. “This is Mason and he’s an officer,” she said, loudly enough for the kids to hear. They’d all glanced over, but as soon as they heard Harper they went back to what they were doing.

  Clearly it was as she’d said; the kids at the Stand were used to officer visits—or at least, familiar enough with them that his presence wasn’t fazing them.

  Only one of them got up. A little blonde girl in light green shorts, a white-and-green matching T-shirt with butterflies on it and tiny white sandals, who’d been sitting at a small plastic table with a piece of paper in front of her and a crayon in her hand. She set the crayon down and was heading toward them.

  “He’s here to speak with one of our residents and checking out the classrooms,” Harper was saying.

  The teacher—Miss Maisy, her tag read—nodded and, as a boy came up to her, tugging at her shorts and said he had to “go,” led him away.

  “Hi, Mommy.”

  Mason was hardly breathing. The girl, a little sp
rite, had reached them, her face serious, her nose scrunched up as she looked at him. And then back at her mother. It was almost as though she knew and he had a crazy thought that kids could recognize their parents, even if they’d never met them before. And then she said, “How come he isn’t wearing a uniform?” Such a small voice for such a big question.

  No way she was his kid. She was just too...perfect.

  He knelt beside her. “I know all the officers here wear their uniforms all the time, but I’m not employed by this place, so I left mine at home,” he told her.

  “Are you on a special job?” Her voice hooked him, her gaze hooked him, and he knew she wasn’t ever going to let him go.

  No matter what the paternity test revealed.

  * * *

  HARPER HAD TO pretend she didn’t know them. It was the only way for her to get through those seconds as she watched her precious little girl so adeptly handling a situation her mother couldn’t seem to manage. If she opened her mouth, she was going to cry. So she took a mental step back, like she did when faced with a horrendous act in her job. She put barriers around her emotions and reminded herself that she was working.

  “I am on a very special job.” Mason’s tone wasn’t condescending, yet it held...a note that was different, unlike any she’d ever heard from him as he answered Brie’s question.

  “My daddy has special police jobs, too, where he sometimes wears jeans to work,” she said and then held out her hand to him. “It was nice to meet you, Officer.”

  Mason’s hand engulfed that little palm, but he shook it softly and said, “It’s been so nice to meet you, too.”

  “My name’s Brianna,” she informed him in a serious voice, nodding once, just as Mason had done earlier in Harper’s office, although she figured only she would pick up on something like that.

  “That’s a very pretty name,” Mason said, his expression equally solemn.

  “I’m going to finish my picture now,” she said. “We have to finish before it’s music time.”

  “Then you’d better get back to it.” Mason stood, his gaze never leaving the little girl.

  “Bye, Mommy, I love you.” Brianna gave her a hug around the knees before heading back to her chair. Harper wanted to hold on to her and never let go.