His Favorite Mistake (Baby Its Cold Out)

by Mary Eason

  Her hands touched his bare chest. Brody gathered her close, gently stroking her hair.

  “It’s okay. It was just a dream. You’re okay. It was only a dream.”

  “Oh God, Brody, it was Cade. It was the night of the crash. I was there with him. I, I tried to get out but I couldn’t get the seat belt free. The fire was everywhere—all around me, burning me.” Reyna began to shiver, unable to control the fear that went through her at reliving those memories. “It seemed so real. Cade was holding me there…he wouldn’t let me go.”

  Brody switched off the light and brought the covers over them both. Then he tugged her close to him. She could feel the heat from his body as it slowly began to penetrate her fear. He massaged the tension from her.

  “Shh, Reyna, it’s okay, I’m right here. I won’t let anything hurt you ever again. It’s okay. Go to sleep now. Everything will be okay.”

  “Brody, promise me that you won’t leave me. I don’t think I can be alone. I don’t want to see him again.” Reyna moved closer to Brody, her arms going round his waist. He felt so safe. So warm. So…tempting. So forbidden. She could feel the tension that vibrated throughout his body.

  Brody caught his breath, his anger reached out to her in the darkness. “It’s okay, Reyna, I’m not going anywhere. Just go back to sleep, okay? It’s late.”

  Reality washed over her in an instant. She had no right to be this close to him and he had no desire for her. Reyna remembered the last she had been this close to him. What his reaction was. Brody had only offered her sympathy, but things had gotten out of hand. If Brody hadn’t stopped it when he did, then…

  Brody was strong, and she was his best friend’s wife. Reyna pulled away and tried to control the hurt and the breathless sound of her voice, she turned away.

  “I’m sorry, I’m okay now. I, I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m okay now.”

  He swore softly before reaching for her once more, his hands going firmly around her body making contact with the bruises along her ribcage still painfully tender after all these weeks. Reyna flinched and he saw it.

  “Reyna? What is it? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Brody didn’t wait for her answer. He pushed her back against the bed and lifted her tee shirt above her waist. He touched the fading bruises just below her breast. She wanted to die with shame. She tried to push his fingers away acutely aware she wore nothing but the thin white bikini panties and tee shirt, but Brody didn’t let her go. His searching eyes met hers expecting answers. She could see all the accusations clearly, before he even asked the question.

  “Who did this to you, Reyna?” His hand reached up to grasp her chin tenderly, forcing her to look at him. “Answer the question. Who hurt you?”

  “No, no one. It’s nothing. I fell. That’s all. It’s nothing.” She closed her eyes against the disbelief in his. He hadn’t believed anything she’d said. She wasn’t really expecting him to,

  He made a contemptuous sound before releasing her as if her touch contaminated him.

  “I hope to God he was worth it.”

  Reyna couldn’t stop the bitter laughter that bubbled up inside at those words. She turned away, wishing he would just go and leave her in peace.

  “He wasn’t.” The last thing she could face right now was his disappointment.

  He swore softly once more before pulling her back into the circle of his arms holding her tight when she tried to push him away. “Let me go.”

  “Shut up, Reyna. Just shut up and go to sleep.”

  His words hurt. What he believed about her was even harder to accept. Brody believed she had been unfaithful to Cade. She wanted to laugh at the irony of it all. Cade had been unfaithful to her from the beginning. She’d never once thought of cheating on him, although he’d certainly given her plenty of reasons to.

  She wished she could just push Brody away. Not care what his opinion was of her. She couldn’t.

  The warm strength of his arms was far more welcoming than the lonely darkness would ever be.

  Reyna hated that she was actually crying. She wasn’t trying to push him away anymore. She would take whatever comfort Brody chose to offer her tonight because she wanted to be close to him almost as much as she needed to keep the demons away.

  ~*~

  Brody listened to the soft, steady breathing of the woman who he still held cradled in his arms. He could smell the faint perfumed scent of her hair. Her skin felt like sheer torture. She felt so good. He wanted her so bad.

  He should leave her. Slip quietly away while she slept knowing she would never miss his presence now. She had only reached out to him for comfort. She’d been frightened by some nightmare and needed someone—anyone, not specifically him—to comfort her. He had no right to be this close to her. Holding her this way as if she belonged to him completely. Sharing her bed. To have her this close after all the long months of trying to put her out of his every thought and struggling with his feelings for her was far too dangerous.

  He looked down at her, wondering if she had any idea how much he wanted her. Now just as strong as that one night. The night of Cade’s funeral. It had taken everything inside of him to refuse what she was offering him that night. Because she’d been offering to fulfill all his dreams.

  Did she know her touch sent him up in flames? He closed his eyes and hoped she didn’t. Otherwise, she would never let him near her again.

  The last thing on earth she wanted was for someone whom she openly proclaimed to be a friend to be thinking the thoughts he was thinking about her. She was strictly off limits. She was his best friend’s wife, for God’s sake. His recently deceased best friend’s wife. He had no claim to her beyond that.

  At the thought of Cade, Brody found himself wondering once again if Cade’s confession to him just a few weeks before his death were true. Had Reyna cheated on her husband? Hadn’t she all but admitted as much to him just now? He’d certainly seen the proof with his own eyes, hadn’t he?

  Cade had made it graphically clear that Reyna actually enjoyed men who were physically rough with her. The fading bruises on her body seemed to confirm that fact.

  So why then did everything else about the woman he had come to know so well, in spite of her resistance to reveal anything about herself to him, tell him that something in Cade’s words didn’t quite ring true. He hoped he was right about her, for his sake as well as hers.

  For the past eight torturous months, he had thought of her and tried desperately to deny his unexplainable reaction to her. He’d made it a point not to see her again until Cade’s death. During that time, Brody had to remind himself she was strictly off limits. Most of the time, it didn’t work. Every woman he went out with only reminded him of the one he wanted. The one he could never have. He found himself constantly comparing them to Reyna, but there really wasn’t any comparison for him.

  At that point and out of sheer frustration, he’d thrown himself into work with a fervor that both surprised and alarmed those who were unfortunate enough to come in contact with him.

  Brody had gone through more assistants than he cared to think about, with the last one quitting after only an hour of working for him. Now, he was forced to borrow assistants from the secretarial pool his company employed, to help keep the workflow from becoming completely out of control. He was quickly becoming his own company’s joke. No one wanted to return to the empty assistant’s desk after sitting outside his office for more than one day. Even though his personnel department had tried to find someone to fill that need, as of yet, there weren’t any takers.

  As much as Brody hated admitting it now, with Cade gone, his friend had been made to suffer the most for his choice of wives. On more than a few occasions, Brody had deliberately given him the worst possible assignment, sending Cade to parts of the country that few would ever choose to go willingly. Cade had been forced to work on advertising campaigns that were all but doomed from the start.

  The long hours had eventually taken their toll on Brody’s health as wel
l. The endless trips abroad he was making on a weekly basis had made it virtually impossible for him to wind down, or acclimate enough to find peace in sleep.

  On more than one occasion, he’d had been forced to call his personal physician to prescribe something to help him sleep, or fight off some bug that his weakened immune system couldn’t shake on its own, until finally, Doctor Stephens had made a rare house call to Brody’s home and almost forced him into the hospital. The doctor insisted on bed rest for a week with no travel and Brody had obliged reluctantly when the doctor told him how close to having pneumonia he’d come.

  That week had been a turning point for Brody. He had slowed his travel schedule considerably, making only a few trips out of the country each month.

  For Brody, work proved the only thing that kept him going at times. The one true, tangible thing in his life he could hold onto and say was his. Although he forced himself to cut back on the long work hours, he’d come to despise going home to an empty home, because it only gave him too much time alone to think about her.

  Reyna said something unintelligible in her sleep, the hand that lay against his chest dropped a little lower. He froze. Then Brody reached to capture it before she could do anymore damage to his self-control. He should do the right thing and leave her bed. Before he gave into the desire threatening to drown out all of his good intentions.

  With another angry sigh, he pulled her closer, his hands going round her body, curving her into his tautness being careful not to hurt her bruised body, before closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep.

  * * * *

  Reyna awoke as the sun’s rays filtered through the wall of windows close to her bed.

  She opened her eyes, lost for a moment. She glanced around the unfamiliar room. Then she remembered. She was in Brody’s home now. At least until she could find a job and support herself. She sat slowly up in bed while faint disturbing memories played through her mind. Had it been real, or just a figment of her troubled imagination? Some displaced need in her conjuring up Brody’s comforting arms after the nightmare of Cade that haunted her sleeping hours, leaving her physically exhausted.

  Reyna’s hand slid down the sheet, touching something. She glanced down at the white piece of paper that held Brody’s distinct handwriting. Her gaze going to the pillow next to hers, a wave of weakness swept through her.

  It was real after all. Brody had been there with her. Several times during the night, she had dreamt of awakening as some unsettling uneasiness crept into her dreams and always, his arms had been there, around her, comforting her. She had been so certain they were just a dream. Just a figment of all her hopeless longings.

  Now faced with the evidence of his presence, Reyna was afraid of what her reaction to him had been. She still remembered the way he had looked at her after he had forced her shirt up and had seen the bruises Cade left on her body. She remembered Brody’s reaction to them. How easily he had believed the worst about her. She hated Brody’s reaction. He was her friend—the only true friend she had left. He had come to her out of friendship.

  So why should the thought of him holding her while she slept fill her with so much hopeless yearning? Because she wanted so much more than just his comfort. She wondered just how many other women had wanted the very same thing from Brody. How many others had shared his bed with a different outcome and craved to be loved by him?

  Reyna shook her head trying to dispel the dismal mood that had come over her. She had no right to think about such things. They were none of her business. They were out of reach for her. Brody was her friend and that’s all he would ever be.

  She glanced at the piece of paper reading his words. His note was impersonal. He was letting her that his housekeeper, Mrs. Evans, would be stopping by later that morning to restock the fridge and pantry and clean the house.

  Brody had been considerate enough of her feelings to let his housekeeper know Reyna was there and Reyna shouldn’t hesitate to ask her for anything she needed. Reyna wanted to cry at the selflessness with which this man watched out for her, knowing she would be feeling misplaced somehow in her new surroundings. How could anyone so kind and considerate ever have been Cade’s friend and not known the real evil within him? The drugs and mental instability that drove Cade over the edge?

  Reyna dressed in a trouser suit, fitting to wear for her day of job searching. She looked at herself in the full-length closet mirror. She had lost weight since the last time she wore the suit. Its dark blue cut hung loose around her slim figure. Her short blond curls had lost some of their luster. They framed her face in an unruly mass of spirals. Her hair seemed to have a will of its own. Which usually meant it did exactly what it wanted, no matter how hard she tried to control the curls.

  Brody wanted her to take some time to herself before starting to look for a job, but she didn’t want to waste a single moment. She needed to find a job to prove to herself that Cade had been wrong about her. She was qualified to do something on her own, even without a degree. She never wanted to depend on anyone again, especially not Brody. His friendship was far too important.

  A key unlocked the door and Reyna abandoned her attempts at pulling off a proper work hairstyle. She walked into the great room just as an older woman, dressed casually in jeans and tee shirt decorated with brightly colored flowers, stepped inside. She balanced two shopping bags very expertly while removing a cluster of keys from the door. She turned and saw Reyna for the first time.

  “Oh, my goodness—you startled me, child. I didn’t see you standing there. You must be Reyna. Brody told me you would be here today, but I never gave it any thought. I should have rang the bell. I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t surprise you as much as you did me. I’m Martha Evans, Brody’s housekeeper. You are Reyna, aren’t you?”

  Martha set the bags down on the glass and metal table close to the entrance and took Reyna’s hand. Warm brown eyes instantly put Reyna at ease. “I’m pleased to meet you, Reyna.”

  Reyna liked the woman right from the start. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Evans. Can I help you put these things away?” Reyna picked up one of the bags while Martha Evans grabbed the other and headed for the kitchen.

  “Oh no, it won’t take me but a moment. You look like you were on your way out. I don’t want to hold you up, dear. I’ll be finished in a few hours. It doesn’t take me long since it’s almost as if no one lives here anymore. Brody’s so rarely home these days.”

  Martha’s brown eyes met Reyna in speculation. “But then, maybe that’s all about to change now that you’re here.”

  Reyna found herself blushing as she realized Martha was definitely getting the wrong impression about her relationship with Brody. She turned away and started to unpack the groceries from her bag while older woman continued talking.

  “He needs to slow down. The poor man works far too many hours. There’s hardly a day goes by that he’s not at the office until well after midnight, if he doesn’t spend the night there. You know he has the apartment on the top floor of the office. I don’t know why I even bother to buy food anymore. Brody rarely eats anything I bring in here. I’m very fond of Brody you know, but he doesn’t listen to anything I tell him. That doesn’t stop me from worrying about him. He’s so successful with that career of his. Starting that company straight out of college and making it, the success it is today is amazing, but he needs balance in his life. He needs someone to share that success. After all, what good is money and success, if there isn’t anyone to enjoy it with you?”

  Reyna turned back to look at the older woman. It was easy to see her fondness for Brody, as well as her concern. She had never thought of Brody as being unhappy before now, but listening as Martha talked about him, she saw the man she had come to respect and yes, care about, in a different light. Her heart ached for him. The thought of Brody being lonely was hard to accept.

  “How long have you worked for Brody, Mrs. Evans?”

  “Oh goodness, it must be almost five year
s now. He’s been so good to me. When my husband, Jack, died a few years ago, Brody came and stayed with me. He didn’t want me to be lonely. Oh but look at me. I must be keeping you from something prattling on like this. Forgive me, dear. Where are you off to this morning so dressed up?”

  Reyna shook her head trying to dispel the sadness that had come at the older woman’s words.

  Brody was a true friend to her and to Martha Evans. How many others? was there anyone special there for him? Reyna wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to that.

  “I’m job hunting. My first time, and I haven’t a clue where to begin. I thought I’d start with the paper and check into some employment agencies listed as well. See what turns up.”

  “Well that sounds like the best way to get your feet wet. Job-hunting is always so stressful. Don’t you let it get you down, dear. Something will turn up. Have you talked to Brody about working at his company? I know he always needs help in some department or another.”

  “No, I don’t want to impose on him anymore than I already am. Brody’s been so kind. I guess I want to try to do this on my own as well. I guess that sounds silly, but I really want to start being more independent.”

  Martha Evans smiled gently at her before nodding. “No, that doesn’t sound silly at all. I completely understand how you feel. Brody told me about your husband’s death. I’m sorry. That must have been an awful thing for someone so young to go through. You are doing the right thing. Everyone needs to believe they can make their own way in this world. Don’t let anyone stop you, child. You’ll make it just fine.”

  Chapter Five

  Eight hours later, as she took a taxi back to Brody’s home, Reyna was beginning to think Martha Evans’s confidence in her might be misplaced.

  She’d been to four agencies and had never been more discouraged in her life. After spending several hours at each one being tested on her skills and after filling out endless forms, she was told that without a degree, it would be all but impossible to place her in her desired field. The remaining available choices were not very promising. She had three interviews scheduled for the following day, two of which were receptionist positions and the third was in sales. None sounded at all interesting, but at least she would be employed.