The Other Brooks Boy (Texas Wildfire Series)

by Diane Roth

  And it didn't take long for Cara, in that bright coral dress to garner a lot of attention. One after another, deep-pocketed givers came to Greg's table asking her to dance. He had only managed to dance with her once all evening, but had some schmoozing to do, so it was all good. She was the perfect little cherry on top of the sundae tonight, just what he'd needed for the night to turn profitable.

  Cara returned to the table for a drink of water, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, hair clinging to the damp skin of her neck in little curls in a place or two. "Wow. I thought I was in great shape, but these old guys are dancing my butt off," she said soto voce.

  He shook his head. "Not happenin', Sweet Cheeks. It's still there. I've been watching it all night," he assured her.

  She took another long gulp of water and cut her eyes at him over the rim of the glass. "I haven't had this much fun in a long time," she said, dropping into her chair next to him and blotting at her neck with a cocktail napkin.

  And she was serious, he could tell. "Don't get out much do you, girl?"

  She looked resigned, then laughed at herself. "That obvious?"

  "No," he said, rushing to assure her. "No, it's not. Matter of fact, you're the hit of the party in my rather educated opinion."

  "Whatever." She drank more water and dismissed him with a quick roll of her eyes.

  "I'm serious, Cara. These guys are smitten with the chick in the 'orange' dress. I've heard it several times. 'Who's your hot date?' I've been asked more than once. And when I tell them you're my sister-in-law, they say, 'No joke? Hook me up.' Or 'They don't make sisters-in-law like that where I come from.' I've heard it all night long."

  She'd switched to her wine glass and held it to her lips, but a smile played softly behind the glass and her eyes went all liquid and sentimental. "You're sweet to tell me that stuff."

  He shook his head in denial. "It's the truth, darlin'."

  She leaned over and pressed one palm to his cheek, her gaze still holding his. "Thank you for giving me a night out. And for taking such good care of me. You always do."

  "And I always will," he said, making it a promise.

  She leaned back in her chair and took a sip of wine. "Until I find me a Sugar Daddy, anyway. Then you can pass the torch." She smiled at him impishly.

  "But make sure he empties his pockets at the door. I'm trying to raise money here tonight," he reminded her, but the very thought of her finding someone was unsettling.

  About that time a man Cara had danced with earlier walked just to the edge of the dance floor near their table and shook his hips at Cara, then jerked his head in the general direction of the action. Not the most suave invitation to dance Greg had ever seen, but effective.

  Cara rose, took one last sip of wine, and smiled at the man. "How deep are these pockets?' she whispered to Greg as she set her wine back on the table.

  "Deep, babe. Real deep. Go shake your money maker," he told her, then spent the next four minutes enjoying watching her do exactly that.

  They were well into the wee small hours when Greg finally walked Cara to her car in the parking garage. It was nearly deserted at this time as Greg had felt obligated to stay and see the final party animal contributors off for the night. Cara was blissfully worn out. Her feet ached until she'd removed her to-die-for five inch heels and now carried them instead. Her makeup was perspired half-away, and her buzz was long gone as well, leaving her tired, but happily so. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun dancing. It was one thing to teach dance or even to practice its art in a studio. That was disciplined work, and she loved it deep down in her soul. But tonight had been a cut loose, footloose kind of night, and man, had she needed it. She hadn't known how much she'd needed it until now, and it made her feel almost giddy.

  It had rained while the party was going on and there now ran a small river through the parking garage between them and her car. She stopped, barefooted, and wrinkled her nose at the thought of wading through the collection of motor oil, dirty water, and trash, but squeezing her feet back into those heels sounded tantamount to hell about now.

  "What's the matter?" Greg asked, stopping beside her.

  "I'm trying to decide which is worse ... wading through that water or putting these killer shoes back on," she said. "I think I'd rather wash my feet than ruin my three hundred dollar shoes in that."

  "Easy fix, darlin'," he said, just before he swooped her into his arms and carried her across the raging urban deluge. She squeaked a little noise of surprise, and quickly wrapped her arms around his neck, laughing.

  They cleared the water, and she expected him to release her, but he kept on walking toward her car across the garage. "You can put me down now, Gregory."

  "This floor is filthy. I'd hate for you to mess up that fancy pedicure, Caroline," he answered back, nodding at her feet dangling over his arm. She raised one foot to look at her pedicure. She'd had it done especially for tonight, and it was rather fancy, she had to admit, with a painted swirl and a rhinestone on each big toe nail. Very festive, indeed.

  "Do you like that?" she asked, turning her leg back and forth to make sure she hadn't danced her rhinestones off.

  "Sure do," he said, and kept right on walking.

  "It's a long way over there to my car, Gregory," she said pointedly. "You sure you don't want to put me down now?" she asked, her tone a mix of sultry and challenge.

  "I'm absolutely certain. You have a problem with me carrying you?" He looked her straight in the eye, and from this close proximity she noticed how gorgeous his eyes were. Of course, she'd always known Greg had great green eyes, but from this distance, they were just plain gorgeous.

  "No," she said, thrown a little by his serious demeanor. "It's actually kinda nice. Thank you," she said. And it was true. It was silly to feel that way, but it was romantic and slightly heroic and the complete opposite of what Jason would have done. He'd have groused about her buying stupid, expensive shoes that hurt her feet and would have let her figure her own way to the car to boot. She snuggled her arms around Greg's neck a little closer and smiled at him when he turned back to look at her again.

  "You've got beautiful eyes, Greg," she said as he walked along.

  A dry grin tugged at the corner of his handsome mouth, she noticed. "I think someone's had a little too much wine tonight," he said. "Maybe I'd better drive you home," he added in a more serious tone.

  "No, I haven't. Really. I only had two glasses all night and I burned off that alcohol hours ago," she assured him. They had reached the side of her car, and she expected him to finally unburden himself and put her down, but he didn't. He stood there looking at her like he was trying to decide if she were truly sober or not.

  "For real. I'm fine, Greg," she said. "You can put me down and I can drive home. No problem."

  He still looked doubtful, but did finally put her down. His hands, however, remained loosely holding her at the waist. "You're certain?" he asked.

  She lowered her hands to the sleeves of his tux jacket and nodded. "I'm good to go. You know I wouldn't take a chance like that."

  He nodded back. "Yeah. I do know it." His hands tightened a bit at her waist, giving her a gentle tug. "Listen ... you cannot know the difference you made for the success of this fundraiser tonight. And for me personally," he added quickly. "Thank you so much for coming."

  She smiled softly. "No, you listen," she said, playfully poking him in the chest. "This was so much fun. I can't remember the last time I danced all night like that. I absolutely loved it. Thank you for inviting me."

  "You'll do it again?" he asked, his brows arched in question.

  She tilted her head to one side affectedly. "Let's see ... get a fancy pedicure, buy ridiculously expensive and painful shoes and get all dressed up to be escorted to a really fun party by a man with downright gorgeous eyes, and who, by the way, looks damn sexy in a tux? I don't know," she said doubtfully. "Sounds like a pain in the butt to me."

  He smiled, and she leveled a
look at him then. "Lucky for you, I like you." She squeezed his arms, almost like a hug. "Anytime."

  She rose to tiptoe to kiss his cheek, but was surprised to meet his lips instead. It just happened somehow, she wasn't at all sure how. And she really didn't know what to do about it. But there they were kissing suddenly, and he smelled so good, and her heart jumped up in her throat and took to beating wildly. Warm and soft, firm enough to differentiate from one of those little pecks you press on your family member, this kiss jerked her to a new level of consciousness in the space of one rapid heartbeat.

  After another moment, she pulled back and looked at him with surprise, she knew, showing in her eyes, but she couldn't help it. He looked like he'd been hit between the eyes with a two-by-four.

  He stepped back and dropped his hands from her waist. "Good night, Sweet Cheeks," he said, then turned and walked away.

  Cara watched him for a moment, her mind like a wind tunnel, blowing thoughts around furiously until none were able to stick anywhere. She finally had presence of mind to dig her keys out of her purse and get in her car. And then she watched him some more, that handsome man walking away from her with his broad shoulders and narrow waist and a swagger that surely had always been there. Hadn't it?

  Chapter Two

  She was making it into a way bigger deal than it really was, no doubt, but she could not forget the way she felt when she'd found herself kissing Greg. And it was still a mystery as to exactly who kissed whom. She couldn't decide if she'd missed the mark when she reached to kiss his cheek, or if he'd turned to catch her mouth with his. Maybe she had been more buzzed than she realized, but she quickly dismissed the thought. She had been stone cold sober and profoundly affected by that kiss when she was driving home this morning.

  As a kiss, it hadn't amounted to much really. No tongue, no grappling, or grinding involved at all. Just a sweet meeting of two mouths, but not altogether dry, either, she remembered. But the way it made her feel was what really got her. Sure, she'd been surprised by it. Really surprised. I mean, this was Greg.

  Greg, for heaven's sake.

  How in the world had it happened? And what was she to do with it all now? Go on as before and pretend it never happened? Or apologize to him for making a fool of herself at the end of a perfectly lovely evening, the likes of which she hadn't enjoyed in for-freakin-ever? Was he over there thinking her pitiful and needy and horny? Oh, God. She could hardly stand it.

  Maybe she'd go on the Single Seniors Cruise with Barbara and the girls and escape him for a while until he forgot all about it. Surely he would forget it. Eventually.

  Maybe.

  Oh, Lord.

  The problem was she didn't think she was going to be able to forget it any time soon. Not the way he looked in that tux. Not the way he carried her across the parking garage like a knight in shining armor. Or the way he'd said he liked her pedicure ... or the way he smelled.

  Damnation.

  She was pitiful and needy and horny.

  And why not? Really, she needed to quit being so hard on herself. She was a healthy woman with a healthy sex drive that hadn't seen any action in a long time. Nearly two years to be exact. She and Jason hadn't made love for about six months before he'd died.

  Things hadn't been good between her and Jason. He'd known it. She'd known it, too. But nothing in the world had prepared her to know that he had died in a rented car in Cleveland that night and his girlfriend had died with him. It had taken some time to put it all together, but the further she dug, the more evident it had become that the woman had indeed been Jason's lover. That explained so much.

  His staying over to work weekends in Cleveland suddenly made more sense. His disinterest in the kids' activities, his disinterest in sex. It wasn't a great loss, truth be told, the sex part. He'd never been a particularly attentive or generous lover, but something was better than nothing. They'd dwindled down to absolutely nothing in that last six months. He'd been getting it elsewhere, she knew now. It still felt like a stinking betrayal of the First Order. Bastard. And she'd never told a single soul.

  So, yeah. Who wouldn't be a little on the needy side at this point in the game?

  But to be attracted to Greg? Had she lost her mind?

  Not that there was anything wrong with Greg. In fact, since he and Beth divorced, any number of girlfriends and acquaintances had attempted to get their foot in the door with him through her. He was a dynamic and successful forty-year-old man who just happened to be really fit and damn good looking.

  And thoughtful. Truly, a thoughtful man was worth his weight in gold, she decided, remembering birthdays and anniversaries that had gone unacknowledged by her husband.

  Greg was dependable, too. Lord knew she depended on him a lot. Probably too much. And he was always there. No fuss, no problem. There to help her out with whatever help she might need. He'd replaced a dead ceiling fan for her last summer without even having been asked, and more than once in the past year, he'd taken her car for service. It dawned on her that Greg Brooks was, in reality, all the things Jason Brooks had so carefully convinced everyone else he was. While Jason's was all done with smoke and mirrors, Cara knew Greg was the real deal. Quietly, unassumingly, genuinely good in just about every way.

  No, there was not a thing wrong with Greg Brooks.

  Except one.

  He was her freakin' brother-in-law. And that made it a deal breaker.

  All she could do today was hope that he didn't think it nearly as big a deal as she did, and that he would forget all about it by the time they saw one another next.

  ***

  Settling his ball cap backward on his head, Greg headed south on Lohman Ford Road with no particular destination in mind. He felt the need to get a little wind in his face and sun on his back today. He hadn't had the bike out in a while, and there were very few places he could think more clearly than astraddle the Hog.

  So what the holy hell had he been thinking when he'd kissed Cara last night?

  He'd asked himself that question a dozen times since he'd walked away from her last night and felt her astonished gaze follow him all the way across that parking garage. He still didn't have an answer for the question.

  Most likely he hadn't been thinking at all. It had been a knee-jerk reaction to having her on his arm all evening and in his arms while they danced a time to two, and sure enough in his arms when he'd carried her like a besotted fool halfway around the world to keep her from getting her feet wet. Overkill much? You think, man?

  He shook his head and drove on feeling like a fool and a scoundrel. Lord, who used that word anymore? Could he get any more dramatic today? But it was a perfectly appropriate word for how he felt. He'd taken advantage of Cara last night, turning his face into her kiss so he might feel her mouth and taste her. Just for a second. That's all. For the space of one quick drawn breath. He'd felt her flinch when he'd surprised her with the move. And it hadn't been fair at all. But he hadn't been able to keep himself from doing it in the moment.

  He'd watched her dance all night and charm every man in the place who possessed a viable pulse, himself included. God, she was a beauty. Sleek and toned and with that tight little ass, shaking it all over the dance floor. And happy. Lord, he liked a happy woman. Beth had been so unhappy for so much of their marriage until he'd walked around in a perpetual state of mourning, whether he'd felt it or not. Because that's just how they rolled. And usually because she'd started her period again, and for at least another month, there would be no baby.

  Happy was nice. Cara had always been happy. Even in high school, she was one of those sunshine makers everyone liked. You couldn't help but like her. She spread that stuff in her wake like marshmallow fluff or something.

  But there was more to Cara than met the eye. Over the years he'd watched her stand by Jason's side as he rose in the corporate rankings and became more and more successful, often stepping on her and the kids in the process. It had taken a toll on their marriage for sure. He was always t
raveling, leaving Cara at home with those babies. Forgetting about her. It seemed like he'd taken her completely for granted. And she took it for granted that that's the way it was. No complaining. He didn't think he'd ever heard her complain about Jason's travel for work, or for his fishing and hunting trips. Always having to entertain the client with one exotic boys' trip or another. He couldn't ever take his clients to the Caribbean or someplace she might have tagged along and enjoyed.

  Guilt hit him then, like a big fat June bug right in the teeth. Who the hell did he think he was measuring his brother's marriage when his own had failed? And when he'd taken a good deal too much pleasure in holding his brother's wife in his arms on the dance floor last night? And when he'd kissed her? Really? Where the hell did he get off thinking he had the right to pass judgment on Jason?

  He punched it hard and rode like hell for several miles, screaming through speed limits and whipping around slower moving traffic. Just letting the wind blow some of the shit from his mind. Finally, he came to the end of the road, left the black top and slowed down to approach the lake. He killed the engine and sat there for a minute looking out across the water and let it soothe him.

  "I'm sorry, brother," he said to the wind. "Sorry I kissed your wife."