The Southern Comfort Series Box Set

by Clark O'Neill, Lisa

  Justin stepped aside and she gave him a wide berth, the heat of her anger practically singeing him as she stormed past.

  Justin sighed.

  He really had a way with women.

  KATHLEEN fingered the straps of the black lace bra which lay folded in front of her, before raising her gaze across the display table.

  “Shouldn’t you be…” she made a vague gesture with her hand “buying, I don’t know, sturdy cotton maternity garments or something?”

  Sadie looked up from where she’d been delightedly studying something hot pink and slinky. “Are you kidding me?” She turned her hands inward to indicate her expanding breasts, the only visible sign of her pregnancy. “Do you see these things? Boobs, Kathleen. I have lingerie-worthy cleavage for the first time in my life, and you’re insane if you don’t think I’m going to capitalize on this opportunity.”

  Kathleen tried not to let her lips pucker with distaste. The thought that it was her brother – ew, ick – who’d be enjoying the benefits of this capitalization was sometimes difficult to block from her mental imagery. Especially considering she’d walked in on the two of them once, in the early stages of their relationship. Post coitus, thank God, and completely accidentally.

  But still.

  Not that she wasn’t thrilled. Sadie and Declan, odd as it may seem, were unbelievably well-matched and seemingly very happy. But that didn’t mean she enjoyed picturing them together, physically, in any way.

  “I’m going to go look at the sleepwear,” Kathleen said, pointing in the direction of the racks of nightgowns and pajama sets against one wall.

  Sadie frowned in that direction and then opened her mouth, clearly wanting to make a snide remark about the sex appeal of flannel. But then she appeared to change her mind. “Okay,” she said instead.

  Kathleen stared at the top of her friend’s blonde head.

  Without looking back up, Sadie waved her hand in the traditional nonverbal signal to get lost.

  Kathleen wandered toward the flannel. It wasn’t that she couldn’t appreciate a nice negligee. She could. In fact, she had one in her underwear drawer. Somewhere.

  But she’d felt like a fraud the few times she’d put it on.

  It was just that she’d always been a tomboy. Whether her brothers were climbing trees or making mud pies or tossing a football or playing pranks on the much girlier Maureen, she’d been right in the testosterone-laden mix. Other than Sadie – who’d grown up next door and been a remarkably good sport despite definite inclinations toward girliness in certain areas – Kathleen found that she just didn’t relate that well to most women. She found them to be catty far too frequently, and a little on the vapid side more often than not. Men were more straightforward. Easier.

  Most of the time, anyway.

  Which made it even more frustrating that she had this ridiculous mental block about contacting Justin. She’d started to several times last night. Tony had left after the movie to catch up on some paperwork, and she’d just been kicking back in her apartment, reading a book. The perfect opportunity to call Justin, tease him a little about the Christmas party by saying she had no idea he couldn’t hold his eggnog or calling him Doctor Hot Lips. Any of the things that she would normally have done if it had been someone else he’d been kissing. Set their relationship back on its familiar course.

  Kathleen picked up a pajama set without really seeing it.

  So why hadn’t she called him? And why had her stomach and her lungs attempted to perform Vital Organ Origami every time she’d put her hand on the phone?

  “Oof.”

  Kathleen was pulled from her reverie when she crashed into something, hard.

  “Oh hell. I’m sorry,” she said to the brown-haired woman she’d just mown down, causing her to spill her newly acquired lingerie purchases all over the floor.

  “No, no. It’s okay.” The woman bent down to start shoving lacy undergarments back into the pink-striped shopping bag. “It was my fault, really. I’m in a hurry and wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  “I’m sure that’s more gracious than I deserve,” Kathleen said, squatting down to help. “It was probably my land pontoons that tripped you up.”

  The woman looked confused until Kathleen gestured to her boots. Being tall, her feet were slender, but not exactly petite.

  “Oh.” The woman smiled, her brown eyes crinkling as she returned her attention to the scattered lingerie. “Well, I can relate.”

  She gestured to her own foot, which looked to be about the same size as Kathleen’s, or maybe even a little bigger. Something about her struck Kathleen as familiar.

  “Do I know you?”

  “I don’t think so.” The woman shook her head, flipping her sleek brown hair out of her face. “Um…” she nodded toward the item still clutched in Kathleen’s hand.

  “Right.” Kathleen looked down at the… what the hell was this thing, anyway? Some kind of bright blue, fluttery, lacy thing that escaped immediate identification “Sorry.” She thrust the whatever it was into the woman’s bag.

  “No problem. Thanks for the help.”

  A faint pink blush tinged her cheeks as she hustled out the door of the boutique. Kathleen shook her head, musing that you really never knew what went on beneath someone’s conservative business suit until you knocked over their bag of kinky underthings.

  “That’s a new look for you.”

  “What?” Kathleen turned to find Sadie, clutching her own bulging pink bag, peering with interest at the pajama set Kathleen still held in her hand.

  Kathleen looked down, realizing that she’d picked up something from the sale rack, a leftover Christmas set that said: “Santa’s jolly because he knows where all the naughty girls live.”

  Good lord.

  “The pants are extra-long,” she sniffed, having no idea whether or not that was true. “You know what a hard time I have finding things to fit my legs. And besides, it’s on sale.”

  With that, she headed toward the counter, Sadie’s chuckle ringing like impish sleigh bells in her ears.

  JUSTIN heard the boisterous voices through the partially closed door, and hesitated outside Natasha’s room. He’d already taken a few minutes to drain the dregs of his temper, but he wasn’t sure he was up to dealing with a crowd. He clutched the plant, second guessing the instinct which had inspired him to purchase the gift in the first place. To hell with it. He’d already bought the thing and he was standing right here. Besides what was he going to do with it? Take it home? He might have a medical degree, but he did not possess a green thumb. Left with him the poor daisy would be, well, pushing up daisies, so to speak, within a week.

  He rapped gently on the door.

  “Come in!”

  Justin cautiously edged inside, bracing himself for the inevitable when he saw who Natasha’s guests were. He nodded at Shelley and Hannah, two of Natasha’s coworkers from Jugs, who both greeted him with enthusiasm, not to mention the bold wink he’d come to expect from Shelley. Over the past couple weeks she’d made no secret of her “mad crush.” He then turned to address Natasha, who was sitting cross-legged and fully dressed in jeans, boots and a sweater, on the bed. She was a little pale still, and certainly leaner, but on the whole she looked remarkably well considering what she’d been through.

  His mouth snapped closed as he noticed her hair.

  “You like it, Doctor Wellington?” She reached up to run her hand over the bright blue streaks emanating from each temple. “Shelley brought some stuff over and helped me color it in the bathroom. God knows I needed some color somewhere.”

  Justin was pretty sure that had broken some sort of hospital policy, but to be honest, he didn’t much care. It obviously made her feel better, and outlook was critically important when recovering from a life-threatening event and subsequent surgery.

  “It’s very becoming,” he told her.

  “Oooh, don’t you just love the way he talks,” Shelley cooed.

  “You�
�re embarrassing him,” Hannah chided, leaning her platinum head toward Shelley. Justin felt ridiculous. None of the three women could be a day older than twenty-two. He was at least a decade their senior. And he was a medical professional, for cripes’ sake.

  “I brought you a going home present.” Justin sat the happy little flower on the tray beside Natasha’s bed, causing the other girls to go into raptures.

  Natasha burst out in tears.

  “I’m sorry,” Justin said, hastily passing her the box of tissues off the tray.

  “No, no.” Natasha waved her hands in front of her face. “It’s so sweet. Thank you. You saved my life. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “Your surgeon might have something to say about me getting all the credit.” In more familiar territory, Justin patted her arm. “It’s pretty common for post-surgical patients to experience emotional upheaval and a certain amount of instability, especially given the nature of your wounds. It’s normal and generally temporary. I’m sure you’ve been given exit paperwork regarding what to do and who to contact, however, if these feelings seem to worsen or persist?”

  “Yes, yes. My sister has it. She – ”

  “Has it right here,” a voice said from behind him. Justin turned to see Natasha’s older sister – Anne, if he remembered correctly – entering the room, holding aloft a folder with the hospital’s logo on it. In her other hand she clutched a briefcase. She looked like a considerably taller, more mature, more professional version of Natasha. Minus the blue streaks, of course.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said to her sister after she’d flashed a smile of greeting at Justin. Hannah and Shelley she basically ignored. “I had a few errands to run after I left the office.” She laid the briefcase on the tray table. “Why are you crying, sweetie?” She moved closer to Natasha, frowned briefly at her sister’s hair before running a well-manicured hand over it.

  “I don’t know. Doctor Wellington brought me some flowers and I started bawling. He said it’s normal.” She hiccupped a sob again and Shelley stepped up beside the bed to hold her friend’s hand.

  Turning a slightly alarmed look on Justin, Anne motioned toward the hall. “Would you mind terribly if I spoke with you for a moment?”

  “Not at all.” He followed her out the door.

  “She’s okay?” she asked him, nervously chewing on her lip. “She’s never been given to histrionics. Rebellion, yes. Fits of, temper – her specialty. But tears? Not even when she was a little girl. I’m sorry.” Her smile was rueful in her pretty, tastefully made-up face. “Our parents died in a car crash a week before my nineteenth birthday. Natasha was nine – the sole survivor of the crash. I raised her from that point on, and I guess you could say I’ve been more mother than older sister. A fact which has annoyed Natasha to no end. Hence the rebellion. She’s made some unwise decisions in order to spite me, which she is unfortunately paying for right now.”

  Justin gathered that Anne was referring, at least at the moment, to her sister’s choice of career. And explained why she’d been less than friendly to the other women. Although violence could happen anywhere, so he didn’t necessarily believe that Natasha getting shot correlated to her place of employment. Or qualified as some sort of punishment, for that matter. More like a random piece of unfortunate luck.

  “She should be fine. Her body has experienced a serious trauma, which often translates, emotionally, into bouts of anxiety or depression. It could be a reaction to anesthesia and narcotic painkillers, to pain and discomfort, or simply an undetermined biological process. In Natasha’s case, this is compounded by the violent manner in which she sustained her injuries. I’m not attempting to make light of it, but it is relatively common and should go away on its own, provided she has proper support.”

  “I’ve always supported Natasha.”

  Justin blinked at the defensive tone. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. But if you need help in dealing with her, if she doesn’t seem to be getting better, emotionally speaking, within the next month or two, then do not hesitate to call the numbers listed in the paperwork you received.”

  “I’m sorry.” Anne blew out a sigh as she rubbed her fingers across her puckered brow. “I didn’t mean to bark at you. I guess I’m just a little stressed out myself, given what’s happened. And you of all people don’t deserve my irritation. You’ve been… wonderful, really, considering Natasha isn’t even your patient. And you saved her life. I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough.”

  “There’s no need. As a job, it’s self-rewarding.”

  “Humble, too.” She flashed him another smile.

  “I need to get going, so I’m going to say goodbye to Natasha now. You take care of yourself. Don’t forget that the caregiver needs care as well.”

  “I’ll try to remember.”

  With that promise, she followed him back into her sister’s room.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JUSTIN pulled into his driveway, frowning as his headlights illuminated a familiar black SUV. Cutting the engine, he climbed out of the truck, his confusion escalating when he realized the SUV was occupied.

  He tapped on the driver’s side window.

  “What,” came the muffled yell. James blinked the sleep from his gray eyes as he looked around a little wildly.

  Noticing Justin peering at him through the glass, he turned the ignition so that he could roll down the window.

  “What are you doing?” Justin asked without preamble. “It’s freezing out here, you idiot. And why aren’t you at school?” His brother had left for Virginia several days ago to return for his final semester.

  James, usually confident to the point of cockiness, looked distressed. “I quit.”

  “You what?”

  “I dropped out, okay? I… look, can we talk about this inside? I’ve been waiting for you for over an hour. I’m exhausted and I’m cold.”

  “Any reason you didn’t just let yourself in?” Justin asked after his brother rolled up the window and climbed stiffly out of the vehicle, his bulky black parka making him look like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man turned ninja. “You know where I keep the spare keys.”

  “I didn’t feel right just barging in without consulting you first. Especially given what I have to ask you.” He looked both mulish and somehow vulnerable. The same expression he’d worn through most of their childhood, when he’d tried so determinedly to keep up with his older brothers, who, given the age gap, had mostly looked at him as a thorn in their collective side. A thorn of which they were inordinately fond, but a thorn nonetheless.

  Justin sighed, but nodded toward the darkened house. “Let’s go.”

  “OKAY. Spill it.”

  Justin plopped down at the kitchen table across from his brother, who’d just wrapped his hands around a mug of fresh coffee. There were purplish circles beneath James’ eyes. The kid did not look well.

  “I dropped out of law school.”

  “Yeah, I got that part. Why?”

  James studied him over the rim of his mug. “Because I wanted to. Aside from the fact that there’s an attorney under every rock these days, I’ve known for a while that my heart wasn’t in it. But after you’ve invested that much time and that much money, you kind of feel stuck. Then I got to thinking, if I feel stuck now, what the hell will it be like in ten years? Twenty? So I got myself unstuck. And I don’t regret it.”

  The last words were a little defiant, and Justin realized that James was waiting for Justin to treat him as he always had – with the vague sense of superiority typical of elder siblings. Justin leaned back, studied his brother’s face – so very similar to his own. And realized that the kid was no longer a kid. He was almost twenty-five. And old enough to make his own decisions.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay? “ James sat the mug down. “That’s it? No lecture? No you’re screwing up your life?”

  “It’s your life,” Justin said. “I figure if you screw it up, that’s your business.”
/>   James’ shoulders slumped in obvious relief. “Thank you.”

  “I’m your brother, not your keeper.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think Mom and Dad are going to feel quite so blasé.”

  “Maybe not,” Justin agreed. “But like I said, it’s your life. And ultimately, they just want you to be happy.”

  “So, uh, how would you feel about a roommate?”

  “What?”

  “Only temporarily,” James clarified hastily, even as Justin started picturing piles of dirty socks springing up on his floors like a malodorous mountain range. Images from his noisy, brother-filled childhood flashed like horror movie freeze frames before his tired eyes. “Just until I figure out what I want to do. My lease for my apartment was up at the end of last month,” he explained. “I didn’t renew it. I’ve been crashing with a friend the past couple nights.”

  Justin stared.

  “I can help you out around here,” James added, obviously having mapped out his plan of attack. “There’s still a ton left to do on this place, and you never have the time. You said yourself that I do good work.”

  Justin closed his eyes, knowing that his solitude – his glorious, sanity-preserving solitude – was a thing of the past. At least temporarily.

  “I assume your stuff is in your SUV?”

  “Most of it.” James looked hopeful. “I put some of the bigger things in a storage unit. And I booked a room at a hotel down the beach. In case you said I couldn’t stay.”

  “Who are you kidding?”

  “No one,” James admitted with a grin. “I’m your favorite baby brother.”

  “You’re my only baby brother.”

  “Exactly.”

  Shaking his head, Justin pushed back from the table. “Let’s go unload your truck and then you can cancel your reservation.”

  The phone on the wall behind him rang, and Justin frowned at it before crossing the floor. The only calls he got on his land line were generally from telemarketers.

  “Hello?”

  Silence greeted him on the other end. Thinking the call had dropped, he was just about to hang up when he heard breathing.