by Leanne Banks
“He’ll come around,” she said.
“You’re prettier than your picture,” Felicity said. “But I bet you’re tired from your drive. Would you like something to drink?”
“Good idea,” Martina said, pulling the door open. “And maybe some crackers.”
Addie fussed over Martina and served the two women soda and crackers at Martina’s request. “So when are you going to get a ring through Brock’s nose and haul him to the altar?”
Felicity shook her head. “I haven’t really been interested in getting married.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Martina said. “You’re loaded, so you don’t need to tie yourself to a man, especially to a stubborn cuss like my brother.”
“That’s not exactly it, either. It’s hard to explain.”
“Try,” Martina said, and Felicity heard Brock’s bluntness in her tone.
“It’s going to sound hokey to you, but I have this feeling of destiny about Brock. Like part of the reason I was put on this planet was to love him.”
A dozen emotions shifted in Martina’s eyes, but she nodded her head. “I can understand that,” she said quietly.
“But Brock is convinced there’s some kind of curse.”
“Oh, yeah, he’s a little fixated on that. You might have to get pushy with him.”
“I may ask you more about that another time. You must forgive me for staring, but you look so much like the picture of your mother in the library.”
Martina’s eyes widened. “You’ve been inside the tomb? How’d you manage that?”
“I was forbidden to go near the men’s quarters and I was told not to bother Addie and I can’t drive.”
Martina made a face. “Geez, he really put out the red carpet for you, didn’t he?”
“I explored the house.”
“I haven’t been in that room in ages.”
“I changed it a little.”
Curiosity flickered in her eyes. “I want to see it. Let’s go look.”
Felicity led the way down the hall, pushed open the door and stepped aside for Martina to enter the room first.
“Oh, wow. There’s light in here, and plants.” She put her hand to her throat. “Sheet music on the piano. Do you play?”
“Some,” Felicity conceded. “I’ve taught Bree and Jacob a few little songs.”
Martina glanced up at the picture of the cocked gun above the desk which Felicity had turned to face the wall. She snickered. “I like your attitude.”
“Brock hasn’t said anything yet.”
“Good.” She walked to the wall where her mother’s picture hung and fell silent.
The grief and longing on Martina’s face made Felicity feel as if she should turn away to give her privacy.
“I still wish I’d known her, maybe more now than I ever did,” she said softly. “I used to sneak in here and sit and look at her picture and wonder how she would have talked to me, if she would have hugged me a lot or scolded me. One time my father caught me poking at the piano keys and he spanked me. I think I was an everyday reminder of his loss because I looked so much like her.” She shook her head as if to shake off the thought and looked at the piano, then Felicity. “Will you play something?”
“Sure,” Felicity said and sat down on the bench. “What would you like to hear?”
“You pick.”
Felicity tried to think of something Brock’s mother might have played. She chose Gershwin, a tune that combined sweetness and power. She let the music soar through her until the song ended. The silence was full of emotion. She glanced up at Martina and saw tears in her eyes. Her heart clutched. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Martina swiped at her eyes and lifted her hand in protest. “It’s not you. It’s the room, the ranch, the memories. I must be a little more tired than I thought I was.” She hesitated. “That song you played was beautiful. I always wanted to play because I knew my mother did, but my father wouldn’t let anyone touch the piano after she died. This may sound strange, but I know she played the piano while she was pregnant with me. I’ve always wondered if I heard her play before I was born.”
She rolled her eyes and swiped at them again. “Don’t mind me. I’ve been driving too long. I think I’ll go lie down.” She glanced around the room, then back at Felicity. “That destiny thing you were talking about may be true. You’ve brought the music back into this house.”
That evening, Brock, Tyler and the kids were beside themselves with excitement at Martina’s arrival. While they talked, Felicity excused herself to the kitchen and planned a dinner party with Addie.
Brock walked up behind them. “We’ll be lucky if we can keep her here for two days,” he told them.
“That’s why we’re planning it for tomorrow evening,” Felicity said. “We’ll keep it simple—barbecue, baked potatoes, cole slaw and dessert served on paper plates. Addie says you have the tables. All we need is a decent sound system.”
“You sound like you’ve done this before,” Brock said.
“My mother gave parties all the time. I learned by osmosis.” She gave a cheeky smile. “Another one of my highly marketable skills.”
He slid her an amused sideways glance, then after Addie left the room, he pulled her aside. “Did Martina say anything about being sick?”
“No. She just said she was worn out from driving. Why?”
He frowned. “I don’t know. Something doesn’t seem right.”
“Maybe after she gets a full night of rest, she’ll seem better.”
“Maybe,” he agreed, still distracted.
“You know, Brock, seeing how much you care for your sister makes a big impression on me.”
Surprise flickered through his eyes. “It does?”
She nodded. “I just wish I knew how to get you to care for me like that.”
His eyes darkened with emotion and he touched a strand of her hair. “I care for you in other ways,” he murmured. “Too much.”
Longing for his touch for too long, she turned her cheek against his palm. He rubbed his thumb over her mouth and she parted her lips, tasting him with her tongue. When he slid his thumb just past her lips, she sucked it lightly.
Brock swore under his breath. He pulled his hand away and replaced it with his mouth, taking her lips with need so strong it bordered on desperation. Felicity couldn’t help but respond. He was the man she was meant to love; she could feel it in every pore of her body. Every fiber of her being craved to be with him.
Brock lifted his mouth away to catch his breath, meshing his forehead with hers. He deliberately rocked himself against her. She could feel him hard and aroused against her. “What in hell are you trying to do to me?”
Felicity ran her fingertips up his arms all the way to his shoulders. It felt as if it had been forever since she’d held him. “The same thing you’re doing to me,” she finally managed.
He shook his head, skimming his lips across her forehead, wrapping his hand around the nape of her neck beneath her hair. “I can’t get close enough to you.”
“Then come closer,” she told him.
He groaned. “You are frustrating the hell out of me.”
Felicity shook her head, which was growing cloudy from his proximity. “You’ve got your pronouns mixed up,” she said, pressing her open mouth to his neck. “I’m not frustrating you, Brock. You are frustrating you.”
Twelve
The party went over like gangbusters. Everyone enjoyed the food and Martina caught up with some former school chums. It was a clear, warm night and the sound system worked like a dream.
Brock, however, was not in a festive mood. He still had an itchy feeling about Martina, Tyler had given him some unwelcome news and Jay Parker was dancing with Felicity for the fourth time. Jay was teaching her the two-step, but Brock suspected he’d like to teach Felicity a few other things. His temperature rose just thinking about it. Inclined to boot his neighbor into next week, Brock cut in.
He gave
Jay a curt nod. “I’ll teach her,” he said.
Felicity stumbled and Brock tightened his grip. “It will take me twice as long to learn with you,” she said, mis-stepping again.
“Other foot,” he coached.
Felicity groaned. “I have a hard time thinking clearly when I’m this close to you.”
His gut tightened. “Why is that?”
“Because you mess up my insides,” she said, almost missing again.
He inhaled her scent and relished the way she felt in his arms, thinking he could have gotten distracted, too, if he hadn’t been doing the two-step since he was a kid. “Just concentrate.”
She took a breath and focused her gaze on his throat. “Okay, don’t talk unless you have to. I’ll pretend you’re—”
Brock swore. “—don’t say Tyler. If you mention his sorry name, I might throw you over my shoulder and—” Brock broke off and frowned.
Felicity smiled. “Go on,” she said, the sexy dare glinting in her eyes again. “You were getting to the good part.”
“Forget it,” he muttered, but his contrary mind finished the scenario he started. Haul Felicity off to his bedroom and lose himself in her.
She stopped and looked up at him, lifting her hand to touch his cheek. “What’s bothering you?”
Brock sighed. The way she asked the simple question was like a velvet arrow to his heart. He wondered how she had come to know him so well when he hadn’t made it easy for her.
“Tyler just told me he’s taking a position at a medical center in Fort Worth,” Brock said. “He specialized in pediatric cardiology and he feels like he’s spinning his wheels here. I can see his point, but I had to fight Dad like hell to let Tyler go to medical school. The deal was he would return to practice near the Triple L.”
“And he did,” she said, “for a while.”
“Yeah.” He looked at Felicity and grew tired of struggling to keep his distance. “Something’s not right with Martina. I can’t put my finger on it, but I can tell something’s not right.”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“I did, but she denied it.” Brock saw Jay Parker headed in their direction and swore under his breath. He tugged Felicity away from the crowd toward a stand of trees. “It sure as hell doesn’t help my peace of mind that you’re dancing with every man at the party.”
“I was told by your daughter that you needed a woman to drive you a little crazy.”
“You’re doing a damn fine job,” he said, and took her in his arms and kissed her. He pulled her close and submerged himself in the scent and sensation of her, her silky hair and responsive body. He took her mouth the same way he wanted the rest of her. He devoured her.
She wanted him. He could taste it in her mouth, feel it in every move of her body, hear it in her sighs. Her wanting fueled his, and the heat rose between them.
He pulled back slightly and swore again.
“You need to be careful or I might start thinking I’m special to you,” she said breathlessly.
“Well, you are,” Brock said, thoroughly displeased. “I’m not happy about it, and I’m not sure what to do with you.”
“I have suggestions,” she said, boldly lowering her hand to the straining fly of his jeans.
Brock was torn. He’d spent the last week in misery, denying himself permission to be close to her. When she’d returned from New York, it had taken every bit of his restraint not to ask her to move into his room.
“We don’t have time,” he said reluctantly, although he couldn’t stop her caress.
She rubbed her lips across his, sending his arousal into third gear. “Time for what?”
“I have to check on some cattle tonight. It’s a full moon and that always makes them drop.” He caught her mouth with his and tasted her again.
Felicity eased his zipper down and Brock sucked in his breath. “What are you doing?” he whispered.
“Showing you how much I want you.”
She wrapped her hand around him and Brock shuddered. “I want this to be a two-way street,” he said. “We don’t have time.”
She rolled her hand over the honeyed tip of him and lifted her thumb to her tongue to taste his essence. It was so intimate and unbearably seductive. Brock couldn’t have turned away from her if he had tried.
He took her mouth again, and she returned to his aching masculinity and began to pump and caress him. The tension in him built. He slid his hands under her dress, needing to touch her feminine secrets. He made love to her mouth with his and made her tremble with his hands, but it wasn’t enough.
Her soft sounds of encouragement took him over the edge, and he spilled himself into her hand, holding her tight. He couldn’t recall a woman demonstrating her love for him in such an intimate way. In some ways, what they’d just done felt more intimate than sex, and he felt oddly vulnerable. He tugged a handkerchief from his pocket, gave it to her and helped pull both of them back together. Then he pulled her into his arms and held her.
Felicity relaxed against him. “We need to go back, don’t we?”
“Yeah,” he said, not moving.
She glanced up at him, her heart in her eyes. “You know I’m in love with you.”
Brock’s heart squeezed so tight he could barely breathe. He’d dodged the truth of her feelings for him almost as successfully as he’d dodged his for her. Her feelings for him, however, showed in what she did and how she looked at him. The words shouldn’t have been a surprise, but he still felt caught off guard. He knew he was holding something precious in his arms, but the shadow of the Logan Curse still haunted him.
After half a night spent out in the pasture, Brock rose late the next morning and stepped into the hallway at the same time Tyler did.
His brother shot him a wary glance. “Well, are you speaking to me yet, or not?”
“I haven’t decided. I need some coffee first. Are you headed down?”
Tyler nodded, and opened his mouth to speak, but the sound of someone in the hall bathroom made both turn in that direction. Brock winced. It sounded as if someone was sick.
“One of the kids?” he mused, then his mind clicked. “Martina. I knew something was wrong.”
“But she said she was okay.”
“And she’ll lie to keep us from worrying about her,” Brock said, truly worried now. He led the way down the hall to the bathroom. He heard running water. “Martina Celia Logan,” he called. “Tyler and I are waiting for an explanation when you can haul your sick self out of there.”
The water stopped. “Well, that makes me want to rush right out. Can’t a girl puke in peace around here?”
“We can take down this door,” Tyler said. “No problem.”
“And you wonder why I don’t come home often,” she said, pulling the door open and glaring at both of them.
Brock’s stomach twisted at her pale complexion. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing terminal,” she said.
Tyler frowned. “Do better or I’ll take you with me to the hospital.”
“I knew there was something wrong,” Brock said.
Martina sighed. “It’s the scar,” she said. “Ever since you got your face torn up pulling me from that bull pen, you’ve always known when things were wrong with me.”
“You’re stalling. Spill it,” Brock said, growing more concerned with each passing moment.
She tried for a smile and failed. “I’m pregnant.”
Brock felt his blood rush to his feet. “Pregnant!”
“How far along?” Tyler asked. “Have you seen a doctor?”
“Just two months. Yes, I’ve seen one, and I’ll be looking for a new doctor as soon as I get to Dallas.”
“What happened to Chicago?”
“I got a transfer to Dallas.”
“I wondered why she drove,” Tyler said.
“Why don’t you live here?” Brock asked.
Martina rolled her eyes. “It would take me a year to list the reasons. Big one, ho
wever, is I want medical benefits throughout the pregnancy, which means I need to stay with my current company. I think that’s enough questions for now, so—”
“Who’s the father?”
In one second, Martina lost the color she’d gained by arguing with him and Tyler. Brock sensed whoever it was had hurt her badly. The pain etched on her face stabbed at him. In that moment, he remembered her as a scrappy little girl trying like the dickens to win her daddy’s heart, and never quite succeeding.
“I have a logical explanation,” she said in a serious voice.
“Which is,” Tyler prompted.
“The stork did it.”
Tyler rolled his eyes. “Now the real explanation,” he said.
“Let’s just say I made a mistake. I trusted when I shouldn’t have.”
“Who was it?” Brock demanded, wanting to find the guy and rip out his tonsils and other assorted organs.
Her face closed up tight. “Don’t badger me about this. I’ll tell you if and when I’m ready. I’m going back to bed.” She gave a wry smile and turned away. “Have a nice day.”
Feeling helpless, Brock watched her return to her room. If there was one emotion that he hated above all others and that made him irritable, it was feeling helpless. Biting back an oath, he stomped downstairs and ate breakfast. Tyler grabbed a cup of coffee and left while Brock stewed over Martina.
Felicity stepped into the room and smiled at him. “Good morning. New calves?”
Upset and frustrated, he refused to allow himself to feel soothed by her. He’d rather kick something. “Yeah, it was a full night.”
She raised her eyebrows at his gruff tone and laid her hand on his shoulder. “Not enough sleep?”
He shrugged it off. “No,” he said, standing. “Today will be busy, too. Tell Addie not to hold dinner for me.”
Surprise and a sliver of hurt darkened her eyes. “Is something else wrong?”
He clamped his hat on his head. “Just my family going to hell in a handbasket. The Logan Curse has hit Martina. You can be sure I’m not riding that horse again,” he told her, and tried to harden his heart when he saw the pain on her face. “Don’t love me, Felicity. You’ll just get hurt.”
