by Pat Warren
But her father, though oozing charm, was lousy husband material. She’d divorced Robert and didn’t much care for Craig. Slade with his rough edges and blunt talk was a genuine person, a good man. And he could excite her merely by walking into a room.
For all the good that would do her.
She might as well get going. She’d make it easier for him by leaving so he wouldn’t have to face her, wouldn’t have to make excuses. Flinging back the covers, Brie sat up.
Just as she did, she heard a door downstairs slam, then footsteps on the stairs. Feeling caught in the headlights without clothes, she ducked back under the covers.
The door opened slowly, as if not to disturb anyone still asleep. From under partially lowered lids, she saw Slade creep in and make his way to the bed. His hair was damp and he was carrying a large white paper bag. The unmistakable smell of coffee drifted to her nostrils. Briana opened her eyes.
“Hi, lazybones.” A smile on his face, he set down the sack, slipped off his shoes, and sat down. Leaning to her, he trailed a finger along her cheek, then kissed her lingeringly. “Good morning.”
Uncertain how to respond to this very different scenario than the one she’d been imagining, Brie smiled back. “You’re up awfully early and you’re wet.”
“It’s still raining and I got hungry. We forgot to eat last night.” His lips twitched. “Had other things on my mind.”
“Me, too. Rather nice things.”
“Hold that thought because we’re going to come back to it. But first…” He reached for the sack, set it between them. “Breakfast.”
Scooting upright, propping the pillow at the headboard behind her, Brie pulled the sheet up and anchored it under her arms. “What’ve we got?” Her mouth began to water.
“Seems I remember a certain someone once saying that chocolate is nature’s most perfect food, or something like that.” He took out a Styrofoam plate and placed it between them on the quilt before pulling things from the bag, like a small boy revealing his favorite toys. “Soooo, we have chocolate croissants still warm from the bakery oven. Then from Rose’s Specialty Shoppe, we have chocolate-dipped strawberries. And from the deli, freshly brewed coffee.”
He finished by laying down two paper napkins before tossing aside the bag. “I suppose I should’ve stopped in the kitchen and fixed these on some fancy plate of Jeremy’s and poured the coffee in a couple of those delicate little china cups he has. But frankly, I was in too big a hurry to get back up here to you.”
Could anyone resist such a reason? Briana looped an arm around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss, her eyes suddenly filling. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He caught the tears. “What? Is something wrong?” He couldn’t imagine what. He’d been gone less than an hour. No one knew she was here so they couldn’t have phoned and upset her. “Are you all right?”
Blinking, she smiled. “I’m better than all right. I’m just a little taken aback. No one’s ever brought me breakfast in bed before. I feel so … so …”
“Special? That’s how I want you to feel.”
“I was going to say spoiled, but your choice is better.” She took the cup he handed her, inhaled the wonderful aroma, and sipped. “This is heavenly.”
Slade tore off a section of buttery croissant and held it to her mouth, feeling silly, feeling good. He supposed he was spoiling her a little. Never in his life had he ever spoiled a woman, or romanced one, for that matter. Rachel hadn’t seemed the type and there hadn’t been anyone else who’d lasted very long.
No hearts, no flowers, no crystal glasses clinking or walks in the moonlight holding hands. Yet this morning when he’d awakened early, he’d had this irrepressible urge to do something nice, something surprising for Brie. He didn’t want to question what motivated his impulse, but the look on her face, the tears in her eyes when he’d returned, were worth having to go out in a downpour.
The warm confection slipped down her throat smooth as melted butter. Brie felt like purring. How could she have been so off base as to imagine he’d turn from her after the night they’d shared? Her self-confidence had to be at a new low. Either that or she’d become paranoid. She’d obviously misjudged him. “Do you do this a lot, cater to women?”
Slade scrunched the pillow against the headboard and leaned back. “I made peanut butter cookies for my mother once. You know, from those refrigerated rolls you slice and bake? I was eleven, I remember, a year after Jeremy left. It was her birthday and she was so sad. She cried when she saw them.”
Just like he’d moved her to tears. “She must have loved you very much.”
“I guess. But then, I was all she had.” But he didn’t want to talk about his past. “Do you know it’s coming down harder than ever out there. I heard on the car radio that winds with hurricane force were pounding along the coast of the Carolinas.”
“That’s a long way from us.”
“I don’t imagine a hurricane’s ever hit this far north.”
“Actually, it has, back in 1938, or so the old-timers like Irma have said. A couple of others have come close since that big one, but none ever hit right on Nantucket. You don’t think it’s that bad out there, do you?” She glanced again at the slanted blinds, but could see only gray sky through the rain-streaked window.
“Nah. It’s a slow day for news so the guy decided to get people riled up.” He took another swallow of coffee, then reached to hand her a strawberry. “I’ve never tasted one of these, but the woman behind the counter said they were great”
Brie bit into the fruit and had to agree. “Wonderful. Try it.”
He did and went on to more. By the time they’d finished the half-dozen strawberries and both croissants, the coffee cups were empty and they were both stuffed. Slade slipped off his jeans and climbed back under the quilt. “I got chilly out there. You’d better come over here and warm me.”
He didn’t have to ask her twice. Snuggled within his arms, Brie let out a satisfied sigh. “I can’t remember when I’ve had such a wonderful breakfast.”
“The best part of any meal is the dessert.” He tipped her chin up. “That’s you.” Lowering his head, he put his mouth to hers, gently brushing her lips with his. Back and forth, back and forth. When she sighed low in her throat, when she opened to him, he gathered her closer and kissed her deeply, like he could never get enough of her. And he was getting worried that perhaps he couldn’t.
“Do you know that sometimes when I kiss you, you purr like a kitten?” he asked, smiling down into her eyes. “Soft, smug Utile sounds from way down deep inside.”
Briana pretended offense. “I do not purr. Now I’m being tested and graded on my kissing technique, am I? I’ll probably flunk out. I’m not very experienced. And I certainly haven’t had much practice lately.”
His arms tightened around her. “For what it’s worth, I can’t remember ever having kissed another woman before you. You’ve erased all those old memories. They probably weren’t worth all that much anyway.”
Brie felt her heart swell, feelings she’d been fighting swimming to the surface. But she held back, afraid to put words to those feelings. “That’s a lovely thing to say.”
“It’s the truth.” The truth. The truth was, he was caught in a trap of his own making, already caring far too much for a woman he knew would one day walk out of his life. Not that he’d blame her. Briana had yet to turn thirty, with a lifetime ahead of her. She needed a whole, complete man, one without a murky past who was lugging around more old baggage than a cross-country passenger train.
He’d known all that last night when he’d seen her on the beach, when she’d spotted him and started running. That was when he should have stopped her, should have told her the deck was stacked against them. But it would have taken a man far stronger than he to turn from her.
“Where did you go?” Brie asked softly, reaching up to brush a lock of dark hair from his forehead. “Where do you go when your eyes get all silvery and secretiv
e like that?”
Slade eased back, huffing out a frustrated breath. He’d told himself to stop obsessing, to enjoy her while he could, and here he was spoiling what little time they had together. “Just thinking. Nothing important.”
“Think out loud, then. Don’t shut me out, Slade.” Were there even more dark secrets hidden inside him? Would he ever share them all? Would he ever trust her completely?
He was thoughtful for several moments before finally turning to her. He wanted to ask her what she’d once asked him. “All right. I’ve been thinking. Humor me. Do you know what you want, really want?”
Briana’s answer came more quickly. “I want something to last.” When she saw his puzzled expression, she went on to explain. “Nothing seems to last, you know. People move and homes break up, marriages end in divorce or, possibly worse, in shared unhappiness. Relationships dissolve. Everyone moves on, from one person to the next, each searching for something they never seem able to find. I badly want something solid in my life, one thing I can count on, that will always be there, that will last.”
There was a message in there somewhere. It appeared on the surface as if they wanted the same thing. Only, Brie wanted something to last and Slade knew there was no such thing. He let out a long breath. “A tough order. Maybe you’d better think of a second choice.”
“You don’t think what I want is possible?”
“Possible, maybe. Probable, unlikely.” He shifted so he was facing her, his hand trailing down her arm, fingers caressing. “You think I’m a cynic, right?”
“Mmm, but I bet you think you’re a realist. And you’d probably call me an optimist. Or a romantic. But labels don’t count here. I know what I want and I won’t settle for less this time.”
This time. Had she before? “You told me earlier that you and Robert didn’t really know each other as well as you thought you did when you got married. What did you mean?”
Briana shrugged. “Mostly that we never talked about what each of us wanted out of life, our goals, things like that. I think too often, especially if you marry young, you get caught up in wedding plans, picking out the china pattern, fixing up the apartment. The really important questions never get asked or answered.”
“Do you suppose Robert could have known that his ambition would turn him into a workaholic and wreck his marriage?” Any more than Slade himself could have predicted that his past would haunt him forever and ruin any chances he might have with Briana?
“Probably not.” Thinking about Robert brought to mind her upsetting encounter with Emmett Brighton and Charles Brewster. Because the whole thing worried her, she decided to tell Slade about it.
He listened quietly without comment until she finished. “Do you think Robert did something illegal to get ahead? I’m not being judgmental here, because I’m sure banking is a field where there’s lots of temptation, lots of opportunity, all that money around. But I’d think there’d also be a whole slew of safeguards, with everything computerized these days.”
“I can’t imagine Robert doing a single dishonest thing. Not for some altruistic reason necessarily, but because of his father. To bring disgrace on his father, the man he was named after and the man he named his son for, would have been the cardinal sin for Robert.” She shook her head. “I can’t see him giving in to temptation.”
“Yet they claim to have proof. This Brighton, he knew Robert well, too, and he believes something crooked went down?”
“So he indicated.” Brie decided she might as well tell it all, so she gave him a play-by-play of her luncheon with Craig. “That was probably more disturbing than Mr. Brighton’s loss of faith. Robert’s best friend suggesting he might have been dishonest really bothers me.”
Craig’s lack of loyalty didn’t surprise Slade. Craig was the same guy who’d made moves on his best friend’s wife right after the divorce. “Maybe they weren’t such good friends after all.”
She’d been wondering about that ever since her lunch with Craig.
“Tell me, would you say the two of you had a good marriage, except for Robert’s penchant for working too hard? I haven’t observed too many marriages up close, so I’m curious.”
He’d told her a great deal about his relationship with Rachel. She might have guessed he’d be curious about her marriage. “Well, I guess you could say my marriage wasn’t exactly made in heaven, though I didn’t know that at the time. I was seventeen when we met, twenty when we married, and not very sophisticated or experienced. I was bored with college so I quit, much to the annoyance of my parents, and I took this job in a Manhattan advertising agency with such high hopes. I soon discovered I was nothing more than a gofer. Marriage seemed to offer much more of a challenge. I’ve always loved challenges.”
Slade couldn’t help wondering if she looked on him as a challenge, which would explain why she was still here. Fix the poor misfit, like a social worker might, then move on. Where had that come from? he wondered, trying to keep his expression bland.
“Looking back, I believe I really tried to make things work. I went through this period where I wanted to fix up our apartment, be little Suzie Homemaker, make new curtains and gourmet meals, entertain friends and Robert’s business associates. Little did I realize that Robert probably wouldn’t have noticed if I’d have spray-painted the apartment with glitter, met him at the door wearing only a smile, and served Hamburger Helper seven nights a week. He was hardly ever home and when he was, he was too tired to care.”
“You must have seen something in him to marry him. Did you love him?”
Briana forced her memory back to those early days. “Yes, I did. At least I loved the man I thought he was. He’d been so different when we were dating—attentive, romantic, altogether sweet at times. I’ve never figured out why he wanted me, since as soon as he got the ring on my finger, he changed into this work machine determined to be a millionaire by forty.”
Slade took her measure, seeing a woman with lovingly mussed hair, honey-colored skin softer than silk, dark eyes fringed with thick lashes, and a smile that made his heart stutter, and wondered how she could not know. He raised a hand, trailed the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “I know exactly why he wanted you, why any man would want you.”
“Do you?”
“Mmm hmm.” He wanted to evoke a certain response and wondered if she could read the mischief on his face. “Because, even though you’re an ugly little thing, you have a good disposition.”
“What?” She’d seen the gleam in his eye and sat up, ready to do battle. “Take that back, J.D. Slade, right now, or I’ll…”
Before she could get the rest out, he’d taken her arm, maneuvered her neatly onto her back, and was leaning over her. “You were saying?”
“No, you were saying that I have a good disposition, but you’re about to find out how wrong that is.” Hands burrowing between them, she began tickling his ribs.
“Oh, that’s how you want to play, is it?” His hands slid under her. “I should probably tell you I’m not ticklish. But I wonder if you are.” With that, his fingers attacked.
“Oh, no, don’t, please.” Laughter bubbled up from deep inside as she squirmed to evade the onslaught, to no avail. “Slade, let me up.” She was giggling freely now, wiggling and fidgeting, but he was relentless. And then, just as suddenly, he stopped.
A final laugh erupted before she became suspicious. “What now?”
Bracing himself on his elbows, he gazed into eyes still sinning with the residue of laughter. “I just wanted to hear you laugh because I never have.”
Slowly, she let out a soft sigh. “I guess I haven’t had much to laugh about in a while.”
“You have a great laugh. Don’t let it get rusty.” His mood shifted again as he looked down and noticed that the sheet had slipped from her. “And you have a great body.” Unable to resist, he pressed his mouth to her breast and feasted there, the taste more heady than anything he’d found in Jeremy’s wine collection.
&nb
sp; He was keeping her off balance, taking her from a serious discussion to laughter and suddenly into passion, Brie thought as her skin quivered in response. It was unsettling and nerve-wracking and maddeningly exciting. As his tongue circled a swollen peak, she tried to suppress a low moan.
He lifted his head. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, no. Please, do that again.”
Slade was happy to oblige.
She’d wanted to work, Brie had told him, something she hadn’t felt the need for in a long while. Since the spring, since Bobby. Slade had watched her pack her camera equipment carefully, like a doctor might check the instruments in his little black bag, and told her he wanted to go along, to watch her work. He’d seen the quick flicker of worry, of refusal leap into her eyes, so he’d hurried on to explain he’d stay in the background, be very still, not disturb her. She wasn’t too thrilled with the arrangement, but she’d grudgingly allowed him to accompany her.
It was a sunny afternoon two days after all that rain, with just the slightest nip in the air requiring light jackets. He piled their bikes in his truck and drove to the wildlife refuge at Great Point. Slade parked while Brie ran in to the office for their permits. Her camera case strapped onto the back carrier of her bike, Brie set off on the narrow winding pathway with Slade following closely behind.
“What are we looking for?” he asked.
“Small furry creatures, exotic birds, and if we’re lucky, deer. But not till we get in a ways.”
It was some time before she found the spot she wanted, a thick copse of trees, most old, thick, and gnarled. Stately elms and scrub pines grew wild side by side. A blue jay came out of the woods with an annoyed flapping of wings, protesting their arrival. Jumping off, she walked her bike over to a solid maple and leaned it there, grabbing her case. By the time she had her Nikon hanging around her neck, Slade had joined her.
