Shooting the Moon

by Brenda Novak

  “This looks great,” she said. “Did you have some earlier?”

  “I had a piece of chicken, but I gave Brandon soup for dinner. He’d already had this stuff, and soup was about the best I could manage.”

  Somehow his lack of culinary talent came as no surprise to Lauren. She couldn’t picture Harley using anything besides a microwave.

  “Is the chicken hot enough?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Perfect.”

  He crossed the room and gazed out the window while she ate, leaving Lauren to wonder what held his interest. The moon? The shadowy yard? He seemed different tonight, pensive and remote.

  “Why couldn’t you sleep?” she asked, setting her plate aside and taking the pill he’d put on her nightstand, along with a glass of water.

  He shrugged, leaned against the wall and hooked a thumb in the waistband of his jeans, but kept his focus on the world outside.

  Lauren found him incredibly sexy. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, the top two buttons on his jeans were undone, and she could see Brandon’s tattoo on his shoulder blade. But then, despite her earlier denial, she found him equally appealing in leather. “Were you uncomfortable on the couch?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Has something upset you?”

  “No.”

  “What are you thinking about?”

  He sighed and looked over his shoulder at her. “You.”

  Her…That could mean a lot of things. She waited, hoping he’d elaborate, but when he added nothing more, she tried to get him to open up. “Have I done something you don’t like?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “You’re not still mad that I won’t get on the back of your bike, are you?” she asked, trying to lighten his mood. But he didn’t smile as she expected. If anything, his brows lowered even farther.

  “Okay, I’ll let you take me for a ride,” she said. “Just stop staring out the window like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

  At last, a smile. “You’re such a pushover in some ways,” he said. “You come off tough, like your father, but it’s all a bluff. Inside you’re soft and sweet.”

  “Come on, I can be tough,” she said, adjusting her pillows.

  “You haven’t been very tough with me.”

  Lauren didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t been tough with him. He posed the greatest threat to her happiness she’d ever known, yet she’d opened her house and her heart and let him walk right in.

  “How’s your ankle?” he asked.

  “The painkiller’s starting to work.”

  “Has the swelling gone down?”

  “I think so.” She pulled her foot out from beneath the blankets to see. She needed something to divert her attention from the brooding male standing at the window. But she regretted giving Harley a reason to draw closer when he sat on the foot of her bed and cradled her injured ankle in his lap. He was only half-dressed. She was wearing nothing but a lightweight nightgown. And they were alone in a semidarkened room.

  “You’re right. It looks a little better,” he said, and then he ran one hand up her leg. She knew the contact was ostensibly designed to lift her nightgown so that he could better see her ankle. But he wasn’t looking at her ankle. He was looking at her face. And his hands were gently massaging her calf muscle.

  Lauren suddenly found it very difficult to swallow.

  “Do you like this?” he asked.

  Lauren liked it, all right. She liked it a lot. But she couldn’t say so. She didn’t seem capable of doing anything except holding her breath.

  He inched her nightgown up farther, still massaging her leg, then lowered his head and placed several tentative kisses on the inside of her knee and thigh. “What about this?” he asked.

  Her legs were tingling; so were other parts of her body. And his mood seemed to be improving. No need to bring back the scowl, she thought. She preferred this Harley…. And her ankle wasn’t hurting at all. In fact, she scarcely remembered having an injury. “I like it,” she admitted breathlessly.

  His hands and lips inched their way up her leg until she was sure he could see the silk of her bikini underwear. “Do you want me to keep going?”

  Her father and Brandon and Audra…Lauren had so many reasons to say no. But she said yes. And at that moment she knew she could no longer fault Audra for falling in love with Harley. Because she was head over heels in love with him herself.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  HARLEY COULDN’T BELIEVE what he was hearing. Regardless of how she’d acted at karate, Lauren seemed happy enough to be with him now. Her soft yes made him long to strip her little nightgown off her body and bury his face in her breasts. He imagined her wrapping her legs around him and accepting him completely, imagined easing himself into her for the first time, and thought he might die from the anticipation. But she’d just taken a Vicadin. She was Audra’s sister and Brandon’s aunt. And he knew there were even greater considerations, although he didn’t want to think about them right now.

  “Is that the painkiller talking?” he asked, sliding her leg off his lap and kneeling by her bed.

  She shook her head.

  “Then maybe you’ve forgotten I’m the bad guy.”

  “I don’t believe you’re a bad guy,” she said, and raised a hand to trace his lips as he’d once traced hers.

  Harley closed his eyes, feeling himself waver, and leaned closer. For ten years, he’d wanted a member of the Worthington family to show some faith in him. Audra had claimed to love him, but she’d clung to her father the way someone who’s afraid of water clings to the side of the pool—and Harley supposed he couldn’t blame her; they’d been so young. But here was Lauren, apparently offering him the acceptance he craved….

  Their mouths met, touching lightly, searchingly at first, then hungrily, and it was as if he’d never kissed a woman before. Desire slammed through him, sweeping him away almost instantly and making him want Lauren so badly his hand shook as he cupped her breast.

  She moaned when his fingers found her nipple, and the proof that her arousal matched his own stole his breath. She had to care about him, or she wouldn’t be responding this way. She wasn’t the type to get physical with just anyone. According to Tank, Damien hadn’t gotten anywhere with her.

  But there’d been a lot of women who’d wanted him physically, Audra included, and Harley couldn’t get past the thought that, in the light of day, he’d suddenly lose his appeal. He couldn’t see Lauren introducing him as her boyfriend to her friends and neighbors. He couldn’t see her telling her father that he was her man. And if what they did tonight soured things between them, it was entirely possible that she could start fighting him on Brandon’s future. No more compromise; no more sharing. For everyone involved, especially Brandon, Harley couldn’t let it come to that.

  “No,” he said, pulling away. “I shouldn’t have started this.”

  He half hoped she’d cling to him, so he’d have an excuse to ignore everything his more logical side was telling him, but she let go of him immediately. “Is it because you’re not attracted to me? Is it because I’m not like Audra?” she asked, her eyes wide and uncertain.

  Scrubbing his face with one hand, he took a deep breath, trying to gain some control over what he was feeling. How could she question his desire for her? He was rock-hard and aching, and she was so much more than her sister had ever been. Surely she had to know that by now. “No,” he said, “It’s not you. It’s Brandon. I can’t do anything to threaten my position where he’s concerned. We’ve lived without each other for the past nine years. I don’t want to lose him again, and I won’t risk doing anything that could potentially hurt him, even indirectly.”

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth and then floated over his chest, and he knew she didn’t want to worry about such things any more than he did. But how much of her response had to do with the Vicadin—with the here and now—and how much had to do with any kind of feeling that would last?

&
nbsp; “I would never use what happens between us to keep you from Brandon,” she said. “I’m not like that.”

  He let himself kiss her, lightly gliding his tongue over her upper lip as he languished in indecision. “So you want this?”

  “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

  Her words turned Harley’s blood to fire. Slipping down the straps of her nightgown, he bared her breasts, which were milky white and perfectly formed. So beautiful…He raised a hand to caress them, watching as Lauren closed her eyes and let her head fall back on the pillow in apparent ecstasy, and thought he’d gladly trade anything to have her.

  But some small part of his brain reminded him what it had been like ten years ago when Audra had turned her back on him, and he knew deep down that if push came to shove, Lauren would do the same. Like her sister before her, she’d stand with her father and shut him out. And when she found out he was pressing for custody, she’d hate him, and he wouldn’t be able to blame her. That was when Harley realized he’d been wrong. There were two things he wouldn’t trade for a night with Lauren—one was her respect, the other his dignity.

  “I won’t,” he said at last. “Not again.”

  She frowned, a mixture of hurt and confusion on her face, and he forced himself to explain part of the reason he couldn’t finish what they’d started. “You should know that I plan to gain custody of Brandon, Lauren. He’s my son. I love him and I want him,” he said. Then he stood and left before the testosterone coursing through his body made him change his mind about respect and dignity. But he bumped into someone coming down the hall from the other direction, and even before he saw who it was, he recognized the voice.

  “You son of a bitch! What the hell are you doing in my house?”

  BRANDON AWOKE TO SHOUTING.

  At first, he thought he was dreaming, because the loudest voice was that of his Grandpa Worthington, who was supposed to be in Europe. But then he heard Aunt Lauren crying, and his father, whose sentences were short and so low Brandon could barely make out the words.

  “Get out of my house and don’t ever come back, you hear me?” his grandfather cried. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to welcome you back. I won’t—”

  “I invited him. He came to see Brandon,” Aunt Lauren said, her voice overriding Grandfather’s. “You can’t pretend he isn’t Brandon’s father. Please, Dad, if you’ll only calm down, I can explain—”

  “If you want to explain something, explain what the hell he was doing in your bedroom.”

  “That’s none of your business. I’m twenty-seven years old—”

  “I don’t care how old you are. I won’t have you spreading your legs for this son of a bitch. Not in my house—”

  “Don’t!” It was his father this time. “That’s not fair, and you know it. I’ll leave, but don’t do this to Lauren. She hasn’t done anything. She shouldn’t even be up—”

  “How dare you tell me how to treat my own daughter! She doesn’t need you to protect her. She doesn’t need you for anything.”

  “Then have some consideration for your grandson and lower your voice,” his father replied. “You’ll wake Brandon, and he doesn’t need to hear this shit.”

  “He needs to know better than to trust you. Damien Thompson called and told me what you’ve been doing—”

  “And what have I been doing?” his father interrupted. “Visiting my son? That isn’t the crime here. The crime was letting you convince me that he was better off without me in the first place.”

  “Just get out and don’t ever come back!”

  Footsteps sounded in the living room, moving toward the front door, and Brandon scrambled out of bed. Why was his grandfather home so early? Harley—his father—had finally come back, and now his grandfather was going to ruin everything.

  “Grandpa, stop!” Brandon cried, running down the hall and hurrying to block the door. “I don’t want my dad to leave. I don’t want you to be so mad. We only had a picnic, and Lauren twisted her ankle, but everything’s okay. It is okay, isn’t it, Aunt Lauren?”

  His aunt was on crutches. She dashed a hand across her face to wipe away her tears. “You’re right, honey. Everything’s okay,” she said, but the sad look on her face made Brandon’s stomach hurt.

  “Brandon, move away from the door. This man was just leaving,” his grandfather said, and he was using that voice Brandon hated, the one that made him feel as though something terrible was going to happen if he didn’t obey. But something terrible was going to happen, anyway. If Harley left he might never come back, and Brandon couldn’t imagine anything worse than that.

  “I won’t,” he said, clinging to the knob with all his might. “I don’t care what you do to me. I won’t.”

  “Hey, buddy, settle down. It’s okay,” his father said, kneeling next to him. “Your grandfather’s a little upset right now, that’s all. This is his house, and we need to respect his wishes, so it’s best if I go for tonight. But I won’t head back to California without calling you. I promise.”

  “But you already promised.” Brandon couldn’t stop the tears that were streaking down his cheeks. He was crying like a little baby. He hated that, but right now, he hated his grandfather more, and Lauren, and his father, too.

  His father took him by the shoulders. “I don’t have any choice,” he said. “Sometimes people have to do things they don’t want to do, hard things, and this is one of them. But we’ll be together in the future, okay? That’s a promise I’ll keep if it takes everything I have.”

  “You won’t disappear?”

  “I won’t disappear.”

  Brandon glanced at his grandfather, who was huffing and puffing, all red in the face, then at Lauren, who was crying again. Then he turned back to his father. “Take me with you.”

  “Oh, Bran.” Aunt Lauren started hobbling toward him, and it made Brandon cry harder to know that what he’d said had probably hurt her. She loved him. She wouldn’t want him to go. But he knew where to find her. She’d be right here, at Hillside Estates. It was his father who might go away and never return, his father he had to keep track of.

  “See what you’ve done!” Aunt Lauren shouted at Grandfather. “You’re alienating him and me, too. What’s wrong with you? Are you so frightened of Harley that you can’t be fair, or even kind, to anyone?”

  His grandfather looked as though he didn’t know what to do. He smoothed down the sides of his gray hair and took a deep breath, but he didn’t say anything. He glared at all of them, then pivoted and marched out of the room.

  Brandon threw his arms around his father, who hugged him and rubbed his back and whispered that he’d come for him, and though it sounded like he meant it, Brandon still felt sick inside.

  “I’ll take care of him,” Aunt Lauren said, but she wouldn’t look at his father, and it didn’t seem as though his father wanted to look at her, either. They didn’t seem to be friends anymore, which frightened Brandon more than anything—except the sound of the door closing when his father left.

  LAUREN BRUSHED Brandon’s hair off his forehead, relieved to see his breathing even out. He was asleep again, thank goodness. But morning would come, and Lauren doubted he was going to feel any better about his father leaving than he’d felt tonight.

  It’ll all work out, she told herself, which was the same thing she’d murmured to her nephew just a few minutes earlier. Somehow, they’d all get through this. But she didn’t know how. She loved her father. She loved Brandon. And, even though he’d just admitted that he intended to take Brandon away from her, she loved Harley. Probably because she couldn’t blame him for wanting Brandon. They all wanted Brandon.

  Wasn’t there some way to compromise? Maybe Harley wouldn’t sue for custody if her father would agree to let him have Brandon during the summer break and for certain holidays. And maybe her father wouldn’t feel so threatened if Harley would agree to leave Brandon alone at all other times. Then, despite the two men, Lauren might be able to retain som
e place in her nephew’s life. It was a slender thread on which to hang her hope, but she was raising a child to whom she had no legal right, which left her in a very weak position indeed.

  “Time to face the dragon,” she muttered to the sleeping Brandon. Then she gave him a quick kiss on the brow, struggled to get her crutches beneath her and made her way down the hall, steeling herself for what promised to be the biggest battle of her life.

  She found her father in the family room. He was sitting in the dark, facing the couch where Harley’s bedding was piled, staring off into space.

  “Where’s Mom?” she asked.

  He barely glanced at her. “I couldn’t get two plane tickets on such short notice. She’s coming home tomorrow.”

  If nothing else revealed the degree of her father’s passionate response to Harley’s return, the fact that he’d left Marilee half a world behind would have served as a pretty good indication. Her father did all the driving, planned every vacation and outing, and oversaw everything of any import. Marilee shopped, bought presents, decorated and basked in her husband’s care. And she talked a lot, but most of the time Lauren just smiled and nodded pleasantly because Quentin had the last word, anyway.

  “So you left Mom in London?” she said.

  “Considering the situation, what else could I do?” His terse words let her know his temper hadn’t cooled in the half hour she’d spent with Brandon.

  “You could have trusted me to see to things here,” Lauren said, stopping at the edge of the carpet and leaning on her crutches. Her ankle was killing her, despite the Vicadin, but it couldn’t compare to the pain in her heart.

  He finally focused on her. “How can you say that after what I came home to?”

  Lauren winced at the loathing in his eyes. She could only see him in the light streaming in from the living room, and the shadows on his face might have made his disgust seem more pronounced, but she doubted it. She remembered that expression too well. It was the one he’d always reserved for Audra when she’d done something he didn’t agree with, the one that branded her as unworthy of her heritage and social standing. Until now, Lauren had never realized how belittling that look could be.