by Leanne Banks
Tyler’s insinuation that he, too, had become attached to Felicity rubbed Brock the wrong way. “Now what the hell do you mean by that? You know that I know better than to fall for a flighty woman from Manhattan.”
Tyler thoughtfully chewed a bite of stew. “You’re probably right. She was pretty and had a body that could stop a clock, but she wasn’t the kind of woman that could get under your skin.”
Brock felt a sliver of unease, but he agreed. “Right.”
“I mean she had a nice smile and her laughter made you laugh with her, and she was so generous it was ridiculous, but she still wasn’t the kind to make you fall,” Tyler said.
Brock’s restlessness grew. He stood, slowly agreeing again. “Right.”
“There was something about her, though,” Tyler said, lowering his voice. “I bet she would be great in the sack. I wouldn’t mind finding out my—”
The mere suggestion of his brother and Felicity made Brock’s anger shoot through the roof. Around the table in two seconds, he wrapped his hands around Tyler’s shirt. “If I ever catch you even touching her, even thinking about touching her—”
Tyler gave a gotcha grin. “Yep. I’d say you’re about as attached to Felicity as the kids are. The last time you almost slugged me we were teenagers.”
Embarrassment mingled with anger. Brock sucked in a mind-clearing breath and swore. “You dog.”
“Woof-woof. Let go of my shirt so I can eat. If the woman is this deep under your skin, you might have to do something about it.”
“Ban her from the house,” Brock said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Try explaining that to the kids if you want an insurrection on your hands.”
Brock sighed, remembering how effectively he’d pushed her away the night before she left. He’d denigrated their passion. The truth left a bitter taste in his mouth and yawning emptiness in his soul.
“I might not have to ban her,” Brock said. “She really might not come back.”
Later that night, Brock couldn’t sleep. Again, he thought in disgust. He strolled down the hall to the guest room and pushed open the door. Her belongings were gone. It was almost as if she’d never been there. If not for the lingering hint of her scent and the images that assailed him, he could tell himself she hadn’t made a true impact on him.
Sure she’d made him ache and want, but he knew better than to give his heart and soul to a woman like Felicity. He knew better than to give his heart to a woman, period. Even if he was tempted, there was a reason not to love a woman. The Logan Curse.
He remembered a time when he’d laughed at it, when he’d been arrogant and totally certain the curse wouldn’t affect him. In fact, he’d been so full of himself he’d thought he held the power to break the curse.
That had been before his disastrous marriage, before he’d placed his trust in a woman and been proven so terribly wrong. That had been before his ex-wife had left him and the kids.
Brock felt a whisper of cool air whistle through him. He would never put himself and his children in such a vulnerable position again. It was best that she had left, he told himself, and best that she not return.
Felicity sipped the morning cappuccino her housekeeper, Anna, had brought her and looked out her penthouse bedroom window as she lounged in bed and stroked her white Persian cat Tia. The throngs of New Yorkers on the street looked like busy ants. Now that she’d given her deposition and conducted her business, everyone had somewhere to go except her.
Oh, she’d received oodles of invitations to lunch and charity events and parties, but the prospect of going to any of them didn’t do a thing for her. In the overall scheme of things, she didn’t feel like anyone in New York really needed her. If pressed, she would say the two who had missed her most in her absence were Anna and Tia.
“Pretty doggone pathetic,” she muttered, choosing one of Bree’s Texan terms.
She thought of Bree and Jacob and felt a strong tug. Strange how she’d only been at the Triple L three weeks, but she’d felt more a sense of belonging there than she ever had in her life.
Except with Brock.
Anger and hurt sliced through her. Restless, she walked over to the window. “Jerk, idiot,” she said to herself. “Meany.”
Felicity hadn’t developed a tremendous amount of feminine pride along the way in her life, but the last few weeks she’d seen parts of herself she hadn’t known existed, parts she liked. Her burgeoning pride told her if Brock didn’t want her in his bed, then she wouldn’t inflict herself on him.
Even if she missed him and wished he would look at her and fall half as desperately in love with her as she had with him.
She frowned, distantly hearing the phone ring. She would let Anna take the call. It was probably another invitation to a charity fashion show or dinner.
“Miss Chambeau,” Anna said from her doorway. “Dr. Tyler Logan is on the line. He insists on speaking with you.”
Felicity’s heart squeezed. She immediately wondered if there’d been an emergency, if someone had been hurt. She picked up the phone. “Tyler?”
“Hey, Princess Felicity, what are you doing?”
Her lips twitched at his nickname for her. “Drinking cappuccino. And you?”
“I’m at the hospital.”
She impatiently waited a few seconds. “And the purpose of your call?”
“I’m calling you with a message from a boy and girl in Texas.”
Felicity’s heart softened. “Bree and Jacob.”
“Yep, they’ve got this wild idea that you’re not coming back and they’re pretty upset. I guess the best way to sum it up is to say you are missed.”
“I’m not sure Brock would agree,” she said.
“Brock’s not an easy nut to crack. Persistence is the name of the game with him. You have to wear him down. I speak from personal experience.”
Felicity heard the edge of humor in his voice, but felt no corresponding amusement. Brock had almost as much told her he didn’t care whether she returned or not, and that still hurt.
“You’re not talking,” Tyler prompted.
“I’m thinking.”
“Are you in love with my brother?” Tyler asked, cutting to the chase.
“Yes,” Felicity answered because it was terrible, but it was the truth.
“And you want to marry him,” Tyler continued. “So what you need to do is—”
“I never said I wanted to get married,” Felicity interjected.
Silence stretched between them. Tyler chuckled. “You’ll have to excuse me, but that’s the first time I’ve ever heard a woman say she didn’t want to get married. Where’s the problem? He doesn’t want to get married and neither do you. Sounds like a perfect match.”
“The problem is he doesn’t love me and even if a miracle happened, he would never admit it. You may not understand this, but it’s not easy going where you’re not wanted.”
“Ah,” Tyler said. “Your breeding is showing. In Texas, we believe that if what you want doesn’t make you sweat, then it probably ain’t worth a damn, anyway. But you probably don’t know much about sweat, do you?”
Felicity felt a wave of indignation. She felt both insulted and challenged. “That was low. I believe Bree would call those fightin’ words.”
Tyler gave a dirty laugh. “When can we expect you back?”
“I’m thinking,” she said, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. “Why are you pushing?”
“I don’t play the role of brother’s keeper very often because Brock is one of the most self-contained self-reliant men in the world. In this case, he’s got a blind spot, so it’s my duty to look after him.”
Felicity’s heart tightened. “And his blind spot is?”
“He needs you.”
Eleven
Go get her, Tyler had told him last night. You need her. Brock shook his head as he paced the porch. He needed Felicity like he needed a rash. Since she’d left, he’d been distracted and hadn’t
slept well. It wasn’t, however, because she had left, Brock told himself. It was because she had come into their lives in the first place. He had been just fine before she’d arrived.
His life had been peaceful.
Boring, his conscience chided.
No passions had kept him awake at night.
Sexually dead.
His emotions had remained on an even keel.
Emotionally in a coma.
Brock swore. He’d been listening to Tyler too much lately. He was too miserable to consider the possibility that Felicity had been good for him. He was disgusted with himself.
Resting his hands on his hips, he looked out on the horizon and reminded himself of his destiny. He had too many responsibilities, too many people depending on him to go chasing after a woman. If his responsibilities rode a little heavy on him and he chafed at the restrictions, he would get over it. He always did.
That should settle it. He wondered why it didn’t. He wondered why he felt like a lonesome hound dog.
“Daddy?”
Brock turned to find his daughter in the doorway. She was twirling her hair with her finger, something she often did when she was upset. “What do you need, sweetheart?”
“Would you play ‘Chopsticks’ with me?”
His heart turned and he gave a half smile. “Sure. While we’re at it, maybe I can show you a new tune, too.”
He allowed her to lead him to the library. He sat down with her and played the baby grand with his daughter, and felt a bittersweet mix of memories. After a few minutes, Jacob poked his head in the room, and the three of them banged out “Chopsticks.” It made him smile to think of how proud his mother would be to see that both his children had a measure of her musical talent.
He had started to show them the melody of “Heart and Soul” when he heard the click of high heels. He inhaled a wisp of perfume and his heartbeat picked up while his fingers slowed. He turned to find Felicity just inside the door. His heart slammed into his rib cage. She wore a cream-colored dress that faithfully followed her curves, but her facial expression was what gave him pause. If her eyes could talk they would have said, “I dare you to love me.” The kids squealed and yelled. “Felicity! You’re back!”
Brock noticed the white cat Felicity held with her right arm. What the hell was she doing bringing a cat here?
Bree and Jacob scrambled off the bench to see her. Bree threw her arms around Felicity’s waist. “I told Daddy you would come back. He said you might not. But I told him you would.”
“Can I hold your cat?” Jacob asked. “What’s his name?”
“Tia is a she,” she said with a smile and hug for both of them as she handed him the cat. “And she’s an indoor cat. She’s didn’t like the plane ride, so I’m sure she would love it if you sat down and held her.” She knelt down and squeezed both kids’ shoulders. “I’ve missed you terribly.”
Jacob kicked at the floor. “We, uh, missed you, too.”
Bree held up her fingers and wiggled them. “My manicure is all gone.”
“I bombed my last book report,” Jacob reluctantly admitted.
Brock felt a lump in his throat at his children’s response to her. It was as if she brought the sunshine in the room with her. For them. For him?
She glanced up and walked toward him. She skimmed her hand over the top of the piano in a way that reminded him of the night he’d made love to her in this same room. “I heard you playing. Sounded pretty good.”
Brock felt an odd kick of joy and pain. He had schooled himself to believe she wouldn’t return. “What made you bring the cat?”
“Because I’m going to be here for a while. You told me you would help me find someone to set up my fund for me.” She gave a heartbreaker’s smile. “You weren’t planning on reneging, were you?”
“No,” he said, feeling his gut tighten just because she was here. His hands itched to take her in his arms. He stood and deliberately hooked his thumbs in his belt loops.
“Every time I decide you’re heartless you do something to change my mind,” she announced.
“Such as?”
“Such as play ‘Chopsticks’ with your kids.” Her gaze went from sweet to womanly in an instant as she gave him a long once-over from head to toe. Brock felt it everywhere in between. She stretched up on her toes, almost close enough to kiss him, and Brock held his breath.
“It’s good to see you,” she whispered, then took a step back.
He ached to pull her against him and kiss her, to scold her for staying away so long, to fuss at her for standing too far away from him, but he bit his tongue. There was something different about her, he decided. It was as if she’d found something in New York; confidence or power or something like that. Whatever it was, it made him want her more badly than he ever had.
A little later, after Felicity had kissed the kids goodnight and he had tucked them in, Brock walked past her cracked-open doorway. He wasn’t sure whether it was an invitation or not, but the temptation to look at her one more time tonight was irresistible.
He nudged the door and she glanced up with a guilty expression on her face. “Long day. Chocolate therapy. Want some?” she asked, nodding toward the piece of chocolate pie in her hand.
“That’s okay,” he said, stepping into her room thinking he wanted a helluva lot more from her than pie. He drank in the sight of her.
Her hair damp from a shower, she wore the silk robe he’d removed from her twice before. Her skin glowed in the soft light from the bedside lamp and her eyes held secrets he wanted to know.
“How was your trip?”
“Productive,” she said, taking a small bite and closing her eyes as she savored it. “The deposition was boring, but necessary, and I kinda fired my financial advisors.”
Brock raised his eyebrows. “You fired them?”
“I told them I was tired of arguing with them about funding my charitable trust, so they could either manage half of my money or they could manage none.” She smiled and opened her eyes. “They did the math and chose half.”
He leaned against the wall. “It was that easy?”
“Oh, no. They gave the regular manipulative line about how long they’ve worked for my family, close to a century, and how they knew much more about financial matters than I did and how I should respect my parents’ wishes. It used to work like a charm.”
“Why didn’t it work this time?”
“I’m not sure. It was either sex or Texas.”
Brock blinked. “What?”
“The reason it didn’t work is either because I had sex with you or because being in Texas gave me a different perspective. I didn’t feel incompetent and inferior anymore.”
“What does that have to do with having sex with me?”
She looked away from him thoughtfully. “My passion was like a room inside me that I’d kept locked. Since you, I’ve found a part of myself that I didn’t know was there, and it’s incredibly powerful for me.” She met his gaze. “I think that’s why I was upset when you called what was between us fun. Are you sure you don’t want a bite of pie?”
Brock felt a nagging sensation at his temples. “Lord help me, I think I’ve opened Pandora’s box.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean if you think having sex gave you power, then you might also get the hare-brained notion that having sex with any man will give you power,” Brock said, feeling his stomach turn at the prospect.
“You mean it won’t?”
He suspected she was jerking his chain and it worked. “You’re damn straight it won’t. Sex with the wrong man will make you feel used and empty. Sex with the right man will make you feel special and powerful,” he said, realizing that was how he felt when he made love with Felicity.
“Is it the same way with men?”
He shrugged. “I guess.”
“So if it’s the right person, he feels great, and if it’s the wrong person, he doesn’t. Where does fun fit in there?”
>
Uncomfortable with her questions and his own thoughts and feelings, Brock tapped his foot. Hell, he didn’t know what to do with this woman and it didn’t look like she was in a hurry to leave.
“You really look like you could use some chocolate therapy,” she said, holding out a bite on the fork. “Here.”
“Okay,” he grumbled and sank down on the bed beside her. She fed him the bite and watched him swallow it.
“Is it so hard for you to say I’m more than fun for you? That you missed me just a little bit and you’re glad to see me? Is it so hard?”
His throat tightened, making it difficult for him to swallow. “Yeah, it is.”
“Because it’s not true?”
Brock sighed and shook his head. “Because I don’t want it to be true.”
She reached for him, but he felt too raw and open. He rose from the bed and stood away from her. “You don’t understand that it doesn’t matter what I want. Maybe it’s genetic. The Logans just don’t fare well in the romance department. The end is the same. We all lose.”
The next day, Felicity sat on the porch swing and read a book on charitable trusts. The material was so complicated she made notes as she went along because she was determined to become better informed. She had made it through the third chapter when a blue Mustang convertible pulled into the drive. A tall, slim dark-haired young woman got out of the driver’s side and walked toward the porch.
It only took Felicity a moment to place the woman. She’d seen pictures of her on walls throughout the Logan house. A beautiful, feminine version of the Logans with long, wavy dark hair, lively blue eyes and a honey complexion. At the moment, her eyes looked tired and her complexion a little wan.
“Martina,” she said. “Your brothers will be thrilled.”
“The prodigal daughter returns home for a visit from Chicago,” Martina said with a wry smile. “You must be Felicity. Tyler told me you’ve got Brock all stirred up. Just what he needs. On behalf of the rest of the Logans, thank you.”
Felicity laughed. “I don’t think he would agree with your philosophy.”
