His Real Father (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Salonen, Debra

  “You’re cold,” Joe said, pulling her into an embrace. “I can cure that.”

  “Oh, really,” she returned, keeping her tone teasing. She used her thumb to wipe a trickle of water from his forehead. “You’re a doctor now?”

  “No. But I wouldn’t mind playing doctor.” He wriggled his wet, faintly orange brows à la Groucho Marx. Lisa burst out laughing.

  “Oh, Joe, I love you,” she said, without thinking.

  His hold on her tightened. “Do you mean that?”

  Did she? Of course. She’d always loved him. But was this the time to tell him that?

  “Yes. I do.”

  He kissed her. Hard. Possessively.

  Lisa liked this new aspect of his touch. No, loved it. She dropped the last few shreds of self-protection, which she’d hoped might keep her heart from getting bruised or broken, and returned his kiss with all of the love she felt.

  “Wet clothes are harder to remove than dry ones,” Lisa said when Joe stopped kissing her long enough look down. He was trying to undo the metal clasp that held her bib overalls in place, and the withered pads of his thumb and forefinger weren’t finding much success.

  “Now, you tell me,” he muttered.

  Lisa gently pushed his hand aside and slid the button free. She then stepped away and shed the wet, bulky fabric, exposing the clothing underneath—stretchy running shorts and a T-shirt. Unfortunately, there was no way to completely remove the overalls without taking off her boots.

  Feeling as graceless as a hobbled horse, she bunny-hopped the short distance to the pool table and hoisted herself up.

  Joe had managed to rid himself of the hideous brown coveralls in record time, no doubt helped by the fact that he could kick off his paint-splattered running shoes with no effort at all. Lithe and nimble in his navy-blue boxer briefs, he dropped to one knee in front of her and took her left foot.

  “Did I tell you how sexy I think these boots are?”

  The obvious humor in his tone made her heart flip over. “No. You didn’t. Do you like power tools, too?”

  “Depends on what kind you’re talking about,” he said with a wink. He tossed her left boot over his shoulder and picked up the right foot. “Certain tools, applied with judicious pressure on just the right spot can be very…entertaining, I’m told.”

  The right boot made a graceless arc and clunked to the floor behind them.

  “Interesting. Too bad we only have one drill in the toolbox. And it’s a bit dull.”

  “I beg your pardon,” he said, his smirk so Joe it made her heart turn over.

  He stood up. His bare torso looked healthy and powerful. The stretchy navy-blue fabric was molded to his thighs. Even sexier than bare skin, Lisa thought, noticing the way his arousal pressed against the fabric.

  Without losing eye contact, he yanked the overalls off in one smooth motion. She balanced on her butt so she could applaud. “Nicely done.”

  Joe bowed slightly. “Thank you.”

  “What about the rest of these things?”

  With her ankles free, she could spread her legs to accommodate him. He closed the gap between them, resting his thighs against the framework of the table. “I’m sure you’d like that cold, wet T-shirt off, but if you could see what an erotic vision you make, you’d understand why men pay money for this kind of show.”

  He ran his finger down the front of her shirt, pausing briefly at her taut nipple, which was clearly evident through the material of her bra.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re happy, but I’m cold and wet. What about your promise to warm me up?”

  He worked both hands under the hem of the shirt and started peeling it upward. Lisa lifted her arms, shuddering slightly when her torso was exposed to the air.

  Instead of pulling the shirt all the way off, though, Joe left it bunched around her wrists, then reached behind her to unclasp her bra. Her sexiest bra with the sculpted lace cups. A part of her wondered if she’d planned for this moment even though her conscious mind had said, “No more.”

  She dropped her hands, still locked together, across Joe’s shoulders and sat up a little straighter. “I’m getting warmer.”

  “I can tell,” he said, before kissing her.

  His right hand moved down her bare back, slipping inside the matching bikini briefs. He nudged her close to the edge of the pool table so she could feel his body straining to meet hers.

  His left hand circled along her ribs to dip beneath the lace that loosely cupped her breasts. “Is the front door locked?” he asked while applying kisses along her neck.

  Lisa cocked her head, grateful that her hair was tied up. She didn’t want anything to interfere with the pleasure she was experiencing. Seductive beyond reason.

  “Uh-huh,” she murmured, closing her eyes to absorb the nuance of his tongue pressed against the place where her collarbone and neck met. “And if your mother came back early, she’d use the kitchen door.” She locked her ankles around the backs of his calves to give herself leverage to wriggle closer. “We’d have plenty of time to grab our clothes and duck out the back door.”

  She nibbled along his jaw, slightly bristly since he’d left his shaving gear at his mother’s house. She paused mid-nibble. “It closed behind us when we came in, right?”

  He turned to look over his shoulder. “I think so. No visible crack of light.”

  She discarded her wet top and took his face in her hands. “Good,” she said looking into his eyes. “Because I’ve always fanaticized about making love on a pool table.”

  The desire in his hooded eyes made her shiver—from the heat, this time. When she set her mouth on his, Joe’s lips were parted and he welcomed her tongue into the warm, wet recesses. She lost herself in his touch, their mutual need. Had she really believed that one night would be enough?

  “I love the way you kiss,” she said, pulling back for a breath of air.

  “I love the way you let me kiss you. Open and generous. The same way you make love.”

  Lisa knew she was blushing. She wasn’t comfortable with such frank talk. “It’s not like I know what I’m doing,” she said. “I just try to go with what feels good.”

  “Wise beyond your years,” he said working the straps of her bra down her arms. He’d hooked the stretchy material with both thumbs, but his hands were formed to her muscles. “I wish I’d known that about you sooner.”

  Lisa had pulled back slightly to facilitate the removal of the undergarment, when a sudden rush of light and warm air made her freeze. She looked over Joe’s shoulder.

  A figure stood in the doorway. A silhouette backlit by bright sunlight. “Mom?”

  Shock made Lisa’s fingers thick and stupid. She used her hand to flatten her bra to her chest, then she dropped her forehead to Joe’s shoulder. She silently muttered a curse word that her son used far too frequently. A completely off-the-wall thought hit her. Maybe Brandon was Patrick’s child. This was exactly the kind of circumstance Patrick would have reveled in. One fraught with high drama.

  “Go back outside, Brandon,” Joe said, using his half-naked body to shield Lisa from view. “Your mother and I will be out in a minute to talk to you.”

  “When we’re dressed,” Lisa mumbled under her breath.

  She looked up to see if he would comply. “Brandon,” Joe barked. “Now.”

  The door slammed with a resounding bang. Not an easy feat given its pneumatic closer. But Lisa could hardly blame the boy for being upset. He’d just walked in to discover his mother nearly naked in the arms of his uncle.

  “Oh, God, what have I done?” she cried, covering her face with her hands.

  Joe put his lips close to her ear and whispered, “If anyone is to blame, it’s me. I should have checked to make sure the door was completely closed. I’m sorry, Lisa.”

  Lisa sat up straight and reached behind her to re-hook the clasp on her bra. Joe stepped back to give her space to hop down. When her bare feet were flat on the floor, she gave him a quick, t
ight hug. “Thank you for that. It’s nice to know that I’m not alone in this.”

  Joe put his hand on her shoulder. “I was an active participant—just now and seventeen years ago.”

  Lisa stepped away to pull on her still wet T-shirt. Now, instead of feeling sexy, it felt obscene. “I appreciate that, but I don’t think Brandon will understand or care. Being caught in a compromising position on the pool table isn’t exactly my idea of breaking it to him gently.” She tugged on her bulky coveralls. “With any luck your mom’s here, too.”

  Joe could think of a lot of things that would qualify as lucky, but having to explain this to his mother wasn’t one of them. He stopped zipping up the ugly brown jumpsuit to look at Lisa.

  “How would that qualify as fortunate?” he asked.

  “We wouldn’t have to go through this a second time for her benefit.” The way her still wet T-shirt clung to her made Joe’s body respond. Furious that he had so little self-control where Lisa was concerned, he yanked the metal tab on the end of the zipper upward, nearly imbedding it in his throat.

  Lisa finished dressing, but left her shoes off. “Maybe if I’d slept around like my mother this wouldn’t have been such a big shock to him.”

  Joe doubted there was much that could lessen the impact of having a boy’s worst fear—that your mother was a sexual being—proven in broad daylight in such a public way. Young men and sex were an unpredictable equation.

  He held out his hand to Lisa. “Ready?”

  She inhaled deeply as if steeling herself, but instead of moving forward, she stood frozen and said, “Wait. We aren’t going to say anything about Patrick until after your mom’s wedding, right?”

  “Probably the less we say at the moment, the better. I have a feeling he’s going to want to do most of the talking.”

  Joe pushed on the door release and they stepped into the bright light. It took several seconds for his eyes to adjust. When they did, he looked around, praying Brandon was still waiting.

  Sure enough, the young man leaned against the rear fender of his car. Arms crossed at his chest, he reminded Joe of his father when the elder Kelly was pissed off about something his sons had done. The image was so vivid, Joe almost burst out laughing.

  But he controlled the impulse because he could feel Lisa’s tension as they neared her son. She’d put on a brave face inside, but he knew her too well to be fooled. She was embarrassed and worried about how this would affect her relationship with her son.

  She wasn’t the only one who was worried.

  “Do you mind telling me what the f—”

  “Stop,” Joe said when he felt Lisa cringe. Joe had become inured to crude language after working on various film crews, but he knew Lisa had worked to maintain a higher standard for her son. “Keep it clean.”

  Brandon threw up his arms. “Oh, that’s funny. You two are caught screwing on the pool table and you tell me to watch my language.” He glared at Joe and let loose a long, insulting diatribe.

  Lisa walked to her son and took his shoulders between her hands. “That’s enough.”

  He pushed her hands away, but he also shut up.

  “I realize you’re upset. I don’t blame you. I once walked in on my mother when she was in bed with a man I’d never seen before. It wasn’t pleasant.”

  She blew out a breath and went on, “But this isn’t the same.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s worse. Joe’s my uncle, Mom. This is sick. It’s like against the law, isn’t it?”

  “You know that’s not true,” Joe said, walking to Lisa’s side.

  “Well, it should be,” the teen said, sending Joe a scathing look that clearly said any relationship they’d established was over.

  “Brandon, Joe and I are friends. We care about each other, and we’re adults. Sometimes adults have sex. You know that. We’ve talked about it.”

  Brandon’s lip curled up. “You mean you’ve preached about it. About abstaining until I met the right girl. Shit, Mom, he’s only been back a couple of weeks. Where’s your self-control?”

  Lisa looked at Joe, a plea for help in her eyes.

  “Your mother and I love each other, Brandon.” Joe wanted to put his arm around Lisa, but he didn’t want Brandon to interpret the action as some kind of macho claim. “We went our separate ways, partly out of respect for my brother, partly because of my work, but now we’re—”

  “Screwing on the pool table. Yeah, I figured that out on my own.” He looked at his mother and said, in a condemning tone, “All this time you acted like some kind of saint, but you’re a bigger slut than Grandma C ever thought of being.”

  He got in his car and started the engine.

  The window was open so Joe tried one more time to reach him. “Brandon, if you’d calm down and listen, we could explain.” Or try to. He touched Brandon’s shoulder, but the boy stepped on the gas. Joe pulled back his hand to avoid losing it.

  The tires made a squealing sound when they hit the pavement. The roar of a gunned engine shattered the quiet of the Sunday afternoon in downtown Worthington. Lisa stared after him, tears flowing down her cheeks. “Oh, Joe, what if he doesn’t come back? What if he…”

  Her question drifted into space, but Joe knew what she meant. If Brandon reacted as Patrick would have in such a circumstance, he’d drink. And then, because rules didn’t apply to the Patrick Kellys of the world, he’d drive.

  BRANDON DROVE WITHOUT THINKING. He didn’t care where he wound up as long as he was far, far away from his mother and his uncle. His uncle.

  “Why him?” he muttered under his breath. Brandon had liked Joe—until this happened. But the idea that Joe and his mother loved each other freaked him out. What if they got married? Would Joe make them move to L.A.? They’d have to sell the bar, of course. His grandfather’s legacy.

  Damn. He and his mother had a good thing here in Worthington. They didn’t need some jerk who’d barely even taken the time to visit when Brandon had been a kid coming along to ruin things now.

  Then he remembered why he’d been in such a hurry to find his mother. He’d wanted to tell her the news: Grams had decided to call off her wedding.

  Brandon didn’t know what part he’d played in that decision, but he and his grandmother had had a long talk on the drive over to San Francisco. Mostly, Brandon had listened as Grams had rambled on about what marriage had been like with Grandpa Joe.

  The two of them had kinda grown up together, she’d said. “We didn’t know we were poor and struggling. We still had fun. We’d go fishing or walk in the park. Or dance in the living room to our little hi-fi. Being with someone you want to spend the rest of your life with shouldn’t be such a big production, should it?”

  Although he hadn’t been listening too closely, he knew that some of her complaints with Gunny came from his sons insisting that both Maureen and Gunny sign prenuptial agreements that kept their assets separate if they died.

  “Of course, we’re going to die. Everyone dies,” she’d said with such conviction Brandon’s stomach had turned over. “But if we’ve committed to be with each other through the good and the bad then what business is it of theirs who we leave our money to?”

  Brandon had to agree, but mainly because he wouldn’t mind inheriting a little of Gunny’s wealth. If he had money, his mother wouldn’t have to work so hard. Brandon had always known growing up that he was different from most of his friends. He didn’t have a dad and he didn’t have as much money as they had to spend on stuff. The discrepancy hadn’t been that big a deal. He had a grandfather who filled in and always slipped him a couple of bucks that Brandon wasn’t supposed to tell his mother or grandmother about.

  Brandon missed his grandfather. A lot. Gramps had been the one person who’d really seemed to “get” him. He had listened and hadn’t preached. And he’d always had something good to say about Brandon’s dad.

  His mother never talked about his dad anymore. If fact, sometimes she seemed mad at him. Was that because of someth
ing Joe had said?

  Maybe Joe had been talking to his mother before he’d come. Maybe making a movie about Joe’s Place was an excuse to worm his way into Brandon’s life. Maybe the Mandy Moore photo and the music CD were bribes.

  Brandon reached into the CD wallet that was on the passenger seat. Driving with one hand, he flipped through the plastic sleeves until he found the brightly colored disk Joe had given him. Without a second thought, he sent it flying out the window.

  A horn honked. In his rearview mirror, Brandon saw a familiar car. A chopped Toyota with extra-wide tires. Metallic purple with red-and-yellow flames on the hood. Rory’s older brother’s car. Rory was behind the wheel with Winston in the passenger seat.

  Brandon pulled over and the low rider pulled alongside him. “Hey, man, what’s up? You cruised right past us back on Cherry without even looking.”

  “Sorry. Had a fight with my mom.”

  “The ultrafine Lisa gave you grief?” Winston asked in disbelief.

  Brandon’s friends had been lusting after his mother almost since they were old enough to get a woody. He knew she was young and pretty, but that didn’t mean Brandon ever wanted proof of some guy screwing her.

  “Where you going?” he asked. “I got some beer in the trunk.” He’d “borrowed” a case from his grandmother’s storeroom last week when he’d planned to attend the all-school kegger. But then Joe had asked him to help edit some film, and Brandon had fallen for the ploy. Of course, now, Brandon knew that all Joe had wanted was for Brandon to make it easy for him to get to Brandon’s mom.

  “Really?” Rory asked. “Cool. How ’bout we go to the lake?”

  Brandon pictured the photograph on his mother’s dresser. Her and Joe and Brandon’s father. At the lake.

  “Cool. Lead the way.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  EIGHT HOURS, Lisa thought, pacing from one end of the kitchen to the other. She shot a glance at the clock. Eleven. “Where are you, Brandon?”