Chapter Eight
Brandy remained in a daze after Shaw's sultry kiss. As she and Eric rode the elevator to Shaw's penthouse apartment, she was oblivious to the boy's monologue. Opening the door, she stepped into the living room with her fingers over her lips, still conscious of the feel of his mouth on hers. Was she falling in love with him? Or was she just simply attracted to him physically?
She wandered over to the wide picture window looking out into the distance at downtown Atlanta, the towering silo of Peachtree Plaza and the hazy shapes of the Omni Complex easily recognizable. Where was Shaw at that moment? she wondered. What street would he be driving on? What effect had she had on him? Was he still remembering the kiss, or had he forgotten her the moment he had put the car in gear and driven away?
Because she had him so heavily in her mind, she thought she heard his voice say, "Well, hello." Brandy turned, still in a dream, and stopped at the sight of a man standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Eric, who had plopped down on the couch when they had come into the apartment, stared with widened eyes.
Brandy tried not to panic. She didn't want to alarm Eric. "Who are you?" She took a step toward Eric, mentally looking around the room to remember what would be the nearest thing she could use as a weapon. That lewd brass bust that Shaw kept on the bookcase would be perfect, not only because of its weight, but also because she'd enjoy breaking it.
"I might ask the same of you," said the man, leaning casually against the kitchen doorframe as if he owned the place.
"How did you get in?" She stepped back toward the bookcase.
"With a key, same as you." He smiled.
Brandy's entire body was tense, but she tried not to let it show in her voice. He didn't look like a burglar. In fact, there was something vaguely familiar about him. But that was no reason to trust him. He had no right to be here. "Yes, but this is where I live. I have a right to have a key."
"So have I." The smile widened.
Brandy took another step toward the bookcase. Two more feet and she could reach out and grab the bust—but could she turn and hurl it quickly enough to do any good with him so far away across the room? "Have we met?" she asked cautiously.
"I would have remembered." He pushed himself off the doorpost and stepped into the room. "Shaw never mentioned you to me either, so this is quite a surprise… in a way."
"Shaw?" Brandy breathed a little easier. He had a key and he knew Shaw, but a burglar could have just as much information as access. She wouldn't ease her guard completely. "My husband never mentioned you to me."
"Husband?" He stopped short. Then he laughed. "Shaw? Your husband?"
"Yes. What's so funny?"
He laughed a moment longer, then stopped, his eyes from Brandy to Eric. "Oh, I get it. Husband—for appearances sake."
"No," fumed Brandy. "Husband for legality's sake. Just who are you?"
"I still can't take this in." He started walking across the room. Brandy took that last step backward. "Shaw is the last person I would have expected to find married."
"Nevertheless, it's true."
He laughed. "I have to admire his taste, but then he always did have the cream of the crop at his feet." He scratched his head. "But this is kind of sudden, isn't it? He never breathed a word to me. So you two must still be on your honeymoon. Hmmm." A frown creased his forehead. "I wonder why he invited me here now?"
"Who are you?" Brandy asked again as he kept walking toward her.
"Well," he stopped, folding his arms across his chest, "I guess you could say I'm your brother-in-law. I'm Marcus Janus." He took the last few steps toward her, and held out his hand.
Brandy clutched it, relief making her knees weak. That was why he looked so familiar. It was the shape of his forehead and those eyes. They held the same sensitivity as Shaw's but were gray instead of green. "I thought you were a burglar." She laughed, nerves making her sound giddy. "Shaw didn't tell me you were coming."
"That makes two of us, then, who are surprised. How long have you been married?"
"Not long," she admitted, and as she glanced at Eric, introduced the boy, explaining briefly who he was.
"An instant family," said Marcus, echoing words that Shaw had said to her in anger not long ago. "I can't believe this. Have you known him long?"
"Less than a month," Brandy admitted, blushing at the admiration in his eyes. He was such a contrast to Shaw, tame compared to his brother's almost unruly manner, the kind of man she could feel comfortable around, the kind of man she should have married instead of Shaw. "Oh, excuse me," said Brandy, realizing she had been staring at him and letting her mind wander. "I'm forgetting my manners. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Or something to eat perhaps?"
He laughed, a nice chuckle that was innocent where Shaw's would have been suggestive. "Thanks, but I've already made myself at home. I hope you don't mind, but as I said, I wasn't expecting the likes of you."
"That's perfectly all right." Brandy smiled. "I'm sure Shaw would have wanted you to feel comfortable. I'm sorry he's not here, but he should only be gone a few hours. Will you be staying long?"
"I don't know." He shrugged. "Shaw just wanted me to come. I have no idea why."
"Oh—oh, then you'll be staying the night? Or—"
He grinned again. "I suppose so until I find out what he wants. Who knows? Maybe longer."
"Oh," said Brandy, trying to figure out where everyone, mainly Shaw, would be sleeping while they had company. "Of course you must stay as long as you like." Suddenly she was nervous again, realizing that her tenuous thoughts of inviting Shaw to bed were becoming more of a reality, and in spite of her feelings a few moments ago as Shaw had driven off, she was not certain if she was ready to face the reality.
She looked up at Marcus Janus and wondered if he would understand. She could tell him the truth about how she married Shaw, for Eric's sake, and how Shaw had been sleeping on the couch and she in the bedroom. But should she? They had won the first battle in court today. They needed to do everything they could to reinforce their position as a family. Could she risk telling anyone the truth—even someone as close as Shaw's family? Or should she continue to pretend that they were a loving couple—the perfect parents for Eric.
One thing she knew for certain, Louis and May would go to any lengths to find a chink in the armor— and they wouldn't stop short of using Shaw's relatives if they could. Brandy barely knew Shaw, and she knew nothing about his brother, although she wanted to think he was trustworthy. Still, to play it safe, she decided to pretend to be the loving wife.
"I think I'll fix some coffee." Brandy stepped past him to go into the kitchen. "Then we can get to know each other a little better before Shaw arrives home."
He grinned, a smile that on Shaw would have been a leer, but on Marcus was simply friendly. "There's nothing better I'd like to do than get to know my sister-in-law better."
Brandy learned a lot about Marcus Janus that afternoon as they waited for Shaw to return. He was in some ways very much like his brother; in other ways, they were poles apart. Marcus was younger, just three years older than Brandy. Because of the great difference in his and Shaw's age, Marcus had practically been raised as an only child. Many of the things Brandy told him about her upbringing were familiar to Marcus, also.
She told him all about Eric, and of how she and Shaw were trying to gain permanent custody of him, but she didn't go into detail of how she had tricked Shaw into marrying her. As far as Marcus knew, it truly had been love at first sight for both of them.
Brandy told him all about her hopes and plans to become a top model someday, but confided the difficulty she was having getting jobs. When he seemed disbelieving, she explained that most models were much taller than she, and that she also needed a new composite, but didn't have the money to hire a good photographer. She tried to explain how she wanted to be independent and not make Shaw pay for her expenses, particularly since he did not approve of her career. Then, astonishingly, Marcus offered to l
oan her the money she needed.
"Oh, but I couldn't take your money," said Brandy, awed by his gesture when she had only just met him. "Not any more than I can ask Shaw for it."
"Why not?" He grinned, and Brandy knew he could be almost as persuasive as his brother. "It's all in the family. Besides, I see it as an investment more than anything… sort of like owning stock in a racehorse or something. I expect it'll pay off in the long run."
Brandy laughed at being compared to a racehorse, and asked if he thought she remotely resembled a nag. In minutes they were both laughing so hard neither one heard the front door open and Shaw walk into the kitchen where they sat over now-cold cups of coffee.
"Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?" He scowled, and Brandy wondered what had happened at the restaurant to make him so ill-tempered.
"Oh, Shaw!" She scrambled up as quickly as if she had been caught in bed with Marcus—and from the way Shaw's eyes flashed at the two of them, she might as well have been. "I didn't hear you come in."
"Obviously."
"Hello, old man," said Marcus, standing up and extending his hand in greeting. "I must say you don't look too happy to see me."
Shaw's glare was answer enough, but he shook his brother's hand nevertheless.
Brandy looked from one man to the other, the resemblance more obvious now that they stood in the same room. Shaw's attitude confused her. From what Marcus had said, Shaw had summoned him, yet Shaw did not seem too pleased to see him.
"Why don't the two of you get reacquainted in the living room," she suggested, "while I get something started for dinner."
"Don't bother about us," said Shaw, without even looking at Brandy. "We're going out. And it might be late before we get back in. Just make up the couch, will you? For Marcus to sleep on."
So that was it. Whether or not Marcus had legitimate business here with Shaw, one service he would be providing was occupancy of the couch—where Shaw had been forced to sleep these past two weeks. That meant, unless she moved in with Eric—which Shaw would probably forbid her to do now that they had a witness within hearing distance of any arguments they might have—Shaw would be sharing his bed with her tonight and every night Marcus remained here.
"But, Shaw—" she protested, feeling trapped, although earlier she had been willing to invite him to bed. She had misread his motives if he would invite his brother there just to give him an excuse to have access to her. Love had never entered his mind. How could it when lust was eating up his heart? she thought.
He stared down at her, his green eyes flashing as if to challenge her to defy him. "I'll talk to you later," he said quietly, but the authority in his voice nailed her to the wall. Even if she could find her voice, he wouldn't hear a thing she had to say.
"I'll wait up for you," she squeaked, sounding like the perfectly obedient wife.
"Don't," Shaw said, and by the look of him he knew it was perfectly clear to both of them where he would be sleeping that night.
"It's been nice meeting you," Brandy raised her voice for Marcus, who had walked out of the kitchen to give her a few minutes alone with Shaw.
"Yes, extremely charming." Marcus smiled at her. "I'll talk to you later."
"Goodbye, Uncle Marcus," Eric said from his place in front of the television set.
Shaw's scowl darkened, and Brandy thought, he's jealous! Just because Eric took to his brother more quickly than he had taken to Shaw. Brandy wanted to smooth her hand over Shaw's brow to assure him that to Eric, Shaw was still his hero. But he didn't give her the chance, and it would probably have angered him further if she had tried something so intimate in front of Marcus.
Brandy found it difficult to settle down that evening. The time was somewhat bearable while Eric was still awake and she could forget her fears by reading to him, playing with his toys and treating him to a special evening snack of homemade fudge. She would have kept him up later than usual, just to have his company and keep her thoughts of Shaw at bay, but the day in court, meeting Marcus and the full evening of playing with Brandy had worn him out. He was practically nodding off to sleep before she could tuck him between the covers.
What now? she asked herself, when it was only 9:30 and she was too keyed up to watch television or read a book, although she tried both. If it had not been for Eric asleep in the next room, she would have slipped out of the apartment just to go for a walk—anything to get away from Shaw. His presence was just as profound in the apartment when he was gone as it was when he was home.
She could smell the scent of him from his collection of toiletries, and his arrogance was stamped on his bold decorating. When she tried playing some of his records, she was reminded of his smoky, seductive green eyes laughing at her, enticing her into his arms.
It was after midnight when she finally crawled into bed, dressed in her most demure set of lounging pajamas—a jumpsuit. As she lay stiffly in bed, tensed for the sound of the door, she hoped Shaw would find gaining access to her body as difficult as opening the tin of a sardine can. She wished the outfit had feet sewn into it, but that would just irritate Shaw, and make it all the more difficult for her to pretend she despised his touch when, in fact, she found herself wanting him more and more each day.
The luminous dials of the clock read 3:46 when Shaw came in. He and Marcus were being very quiet tiptoeing around, and the carpet muffled most of the sounds. She heard movements in the kitchen where they were quietly talking. Dare she creep closer to the door to try to catch their conversation, she wondered? With her luck Shaw would open the bedroom door and she would fall into the living room. It was safer to lie here trying to guess what they were doing.
Then she heard the sound of running water in the bathroom next door. Of course, it could be Eric getting a drink of water in the middle of the night, but more than likely it was Marcus getting ready for his sofabed, for in the next instant the bedroom door opened and Shaw stood there, his feet spread apart, his body outlined by the soft backlighting of a lamp from the living room.
His hair was falling onto his forehead and she wondered why he stood there hesitating, surveying her and the bed like some kind of swarthy pirate about to ravage and plunder. All he needed was a sword in a sheath at his side to complete the picture, and mentally she drew it in, knowing he didn't need a weapon to force her to surrender.
She wanted him to take her. She wanted to taste his brand of lovemaking, because she already belonged to him body and soul. The problem was that he didn't love her. He just loved her body because it was the piece of candy she held out of his reach.
She must have called out his name, involuntarily, unable to deny the pain of her longing.
Just as he was about to turn away, he caught the sound of his name and moved back into the room. "What?" He stepped closer, his eyes piercing the gloom of the room in the light straying from the living room. "I thought you were asleep."
Her heart was pounding. Was he just stopping in to check on her? Had he no intention of sliding into bed with her tonight when his brother would be sleeping on the couch? Surely that was the only reason Shaw had asked Marcus to visit—just so he would have an excuse to claim his rightful place in his bed.
"No," she whispered, unable to say anything else, for he was unknotting his tie now, stretching his neck as he unbuttoned the starched collar of his shirt. It filled her with delight just to watch these simple actions of his, to know that she was close enough to touch him.
He sat down at the edge of the bed, his thigh touching her knee through the coverlet. She could feel the heat of his body and smell the scent of him. He began pulling off his shoes, just as he must have done countless times, times when she hadn't lain here in his bed, times when he had been alone, or when some other woman had been in her place.
"Mind if I turn on the light?" he asked.
"No," she croaked, watching his powerfully muscled arm reach to the lamp switch on the night table beside her head. He stood up then and padded across the room, kicking
the door shut with his toe as he began undoing his shirt, his face distracted, as if he were alone.
It would be this way if I weren't here, thought Brandy. He was so tired all he could think about was sleep. But his eyes caught hers and the look said he would be aware of her if she were sleeping ten miles instead of ten steps from him. "Mind if I sleep here tonight?" he asked, somewhat sarcastically, resenting the fact that he had to ask permission to use his own bed. "The couch is pretty cramped for sleeping."
Of course Brandy couldn't protest, especially with Marcus sleeping outside the door. They had to keep up appearances of a loving, honeymooning couple, even to close family, for Eric's sake. "If all you want to do is sleep—" She wanted to make her position clear.
"It's not all I want to do," he made his own desires explicit, "but it's all I intend to do at this point. I'm dead tired and I have no desire to have a hairpulling, backscratching fight at this hour of the morning. I can see it in your eyes—that's all I'd get if I so much as tried to kiss you goodnight."
Brandy's eyes rounded. She was wary of him, because she wanted him to make love to her, and she was afraid of what would happen when he did. But she also wanted him badly, and worried that her desire would show in her eyes.
He stripped off his shirt and threw it onto a chair. "I won't have to fight to get you," he reminded her. "When the time is right, we'll both know it. And you'll want me just as much as I want you. You'll come to me willingly enough."
"Don't hold your breath waiting," she told him, at the same time wondering herself how much longer she could resist touching him when he was so close.
"I'm going to take my pants off now, in case you want to look the other way," he grumbled.
For Eric's Sake Page 10
