by Marie Force
His arm tightened around her as his lips slid over her hair. “Now that you’ve agreed to marry me, there’s not one damned thing I want that I don’t have, and you’re getting a ring. That’s all there is to it.”
Carolina had learned over the last year to choose her battles wisely with him. She suspected this was one she couldn’t win. “If you say so, dear.”
His bark of laughter over her unusually easy capitulation had other people on the street looking at them, probably wondering what a hot young guy like him was doing with an old fool like her. Let them wonder, she thought as she slid her hand into the back pocket of his khaki uniform shorts. Every sexy, bossy, overbearing inch of him was all hers.
* * *
A slamming door and a loud voice woke Alex from a sound sleep. He rubbed his face as Paul came in from work, talking on the phone. Alex checked his watch, which indicated that two hours had passed. He was up and heading for the hallway to check on his mother before he was even completely awake.
Thankfully, she was resting comfortably in her bed and hadn’t escaped while he was dead to the world. He went back to the kitchen, where Paul had cracked open a beer and was leaning against the counter with his cell phone wedged between his ear and shoulder.
“That sounds good,” he said. “I’ll meet your ferry. We’ll look forward to seeing you on Saturday.” Paul ended the call and put his phone on the charger. “That was the nurse, Hope, who we talked to the other night. She and her son will be out on Saturday to check out the place.”
“And us.”
“And us.”
So much was riding on this, and they both knew it. The only hope they had of keeping their mother at home was if they could persuade a qualified medical professional to come to work for them, and they had exactly one person interested in the position.
“Kinda funny that her name is Hope, right?” Alex said.
“Seriously.”
“So listen… A friend of mine has offered to help out at the store. She has an MBA from Wharton and a lot of retail experience—not in horticulture, but she’d probably figure out what she needs to know. What do you think?”
“A friend, huh? And does this friend have anything to do with the fact that you didn’t come home last night?”
“I called you to tell you I was staying out, and you said it was fine, so don’t bust my balls. Do you want her help or don’t you?”
“Will your Wharton MBA be satisfied with twelve bucks an hour?”
“She’s not in it for the money. She heard we’re in a tight spot, and she offered to help. Nothing more than that.”
Paul eyed him skeptically. “Nothing more than that?”
“Paul… Will you shut the fuck up and answer the question? Do you want her help or not?”
“Sure,” Paul said with a calculating smile. “I’d love to have your friend’s help at the store. Tell her to call me in the morning, and we’ll set up a meeting.”
“You’re such an asshole.”
“That’s why you love me.”
“Right, keep telling yourself that. I’m taking a shower. Are you going to be home tonight?”
“Where else would I be?”
“Do you care if I go out for a while?”
“I don’t care, but when you say a while, do you mean a couple of hours or all night?”
“Ugh,” Alex said, grunting with aggravation as he left Paul laughing in the kitchen and went to take a shower. Even though he wanted to punch his brother for being such an asshole, he couldn’t deny that if the situation had been reversed, he would’ve done the same thing.
They’d been busting each other’s balls for as long as they could talk. In fact, ball busting had been at the heart of their relationship until they were forced to come together to care for their mother. It was kind of nice to know that underneath all the drama and despair of their mother’s illness, his relationship with his brother remained intact.
Dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, Alex entered the kitchen, where Paul was eating dinner with his laptop open on the table next to him. “This computer is giving me heartburn.”
“Take some of Mom’s stuff.”
“Seriously. I might need to get a new one. It’s running so slow.”
“Call Adam McCarthy to look at it before you spend the money on a new one.”
“Good idea. I keep forgetting he moved home.”
Alex picked up the keys and tucked his wallet into his back pocket. “How about I help you get Mom up and changed and everything before I go?”
“Nah, I can handle it. She’s apt to stay asleep at this point anyway.”
“Call me if you need me.”
“I wouldn’t want to interrupt anything.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Paul was still laughing as Alex walked out the door, letting it slam behind him. As annoying as his brother could be, it was nice to hear some laughter in their house for a change of pace.
In the barn, he got on the Harley and headed for town, where he stopped at three different places before he found what he was looking for and then headed for the lighthouse, his body humming with anticipation. It was amazing how quickly she’d become a bright spot in a life full of mundane routine.
Alex parked the bike and removed the bag he’d stored in the compartment under the seat. As promised, she’d left the door unlocked for him. He took the stairs two at a time, eager to see her.
In the kitchen, he put the bag he’d brought on the table. “Jenny?”
No answer. Damn, was she still sleeping? He went up the flight that led to her bedroom on the top floor. She was curled up on her side, her hand under her face, blonde hair spread out on the pillow. Alex sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to kiss her bare shoulder. The blazing heat of her skin seared his lips. Uh-oh.
Her eyes fluttered open. “Hey,” she said, her voice gravelly and sleepy sounding.
That was all it took to get his cock pressing insistently against his zipper. Down, boy. She’s sick, and we’re not here for that. “How you feeling?”
“Not so great. I’m hot.”
He rested a hand on her forehead. “You’ve got one hell of a fever. Have you taken anything for that?”
“Earlier. Didn’t help much.”
“I brought you some soup.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “You did?”
Nodding, he said, “I couldn’t find chicken noodle, but they had chicken with rice at the deli.”
Her stomach growled, making them laugh.
“I’ll take that as a yes to the soup.”
“It does sound good.”
“Stay right there. I’ll bring it to you.” Alex went downstairs to the kitchen to set her up with a tray that he found in a drawer under the stove. Opening doors and drawers in the tiny galley kitchen, he located a bowl and spoon. He added a stack of crackers and an icy glass of ginger ale to the tray and carried it upstairs.
Jenny was sitting up against a pile of pillows. She’d turned on a light, and he could see that her cheeks were red from the fever. “I can’t believe you brought me soup.”
“Why not? You’re sick, right?”
“I know, but still… It was really nice of you.”
“I got some for me, too. Be right back.” He went down to get the container of minestrone and the Coke he’d brought for himself and carried it upstairs to join her.
Propped against his own pile of pillows, he devoured the soup and the baguette that had come with it. They ate in companionable silence, which he enjoyed tremendously. Being around her calmed him and settled his racing mind.
“How’s the belly?” he asked.
“Happier than it’s been all day. This is great. Thanks again.”
“It was no problem.”
“It was nice of you.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. How’s your mom?”
“Sleeping a lot.”
She took a long perusing look at him that made hi
s skin tingle with awareness of her. “Did you get some sleep?”
“A couple of hours.”
“I hope you don’t get whatever it is I have.”
“I never get sick. Don’t worry about me.”
“I never get sick either, and I am worried about you. You’re burning the candle at both ends. I’d hate to see that catch up to you.”
Her kind concern touched him deeply. Despite living at home with his mother and brother and the compassion of the Gansett Island community all around them, Alex had felt very alone in the midst of the chaos. He felt less alone when he was with her.
“Are you done?” he asked when she put down her spoon.
“Yes, thanks. It was great.”
“Glad you enjoyed it.” He took the tray downstairs and washed the dishes before returning to the bedroom. “Do you want me to go and let you sleep?”
“I’d much rather you stayed for a while, if you don’t have anything you need to do.”
“I don’t have anything I need to do, and I’d love to stay.”
“I’m going to hit the bathroom. Make yourself comfortable.” She got up slowly, the covers falling away to reveal a skimpy tank and a skimpier pair of lacy panties.
Alex bit back a groan as he took in miles of gorgeous leg and toned buttocks. She half walked, half hobbled to the bathroom, and he fell back against the pillows, praying for deliverance from the desire that pounded through him at the sight of her bare skin. He’d never had a stronger physical reaction to a woman. From the first time he touched her, she’d affected him on every possible level, and he was starting to realize the need for her had only gotten greater since he’d had her.
Propped up on one hand, he watched her return, noting how gingerly she moved as she got back into bed.
“You’re pretty sore, huh?”
“Extremely.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I hadn’t done…that…in a really long time.”
“You should’ve told me I was being too rough with you.”
“I was too busy having multiple orgasms to tell you anything.”
Alex laughed and put his arm around her, bringing her in close to him. “Next time, I’ll be more careful.”
She rested her arm on top of his. “I liked you exactly the way you were.”
He breathed in the fresh, sweet scent of her hair, content to be close to her even if another part of him wasn’t content at all. That part of him needed to stand down, but damn if he could keep the desire he felt for her at bay. When she was close to him like this, he wanted her. If she was in the room, he wanted her. “I talked to Paul, and he gratefully accepts your offer. He said to call him to set up a time to get together.”
“I will as soon as I can move again.”
“I’ll let him know you’re under the weather. We can handle things for a couple of days, so don’t worry about it until you feel better. You’re doing us a huge favor, and we’re on your schedule.”
“I’m glad there’s something I can do to help you guys.”
“It’s nice of you to want to help.”
“Tell me about your mom. What was she like before this happened?”
“She was awesome,” he said with a sigh. “Fun and funny and clever. She loved to read and knit and do needlepoint and play bridge with her friends. She can’t do any of those things anymore. My dad died ten years ago, and even though she was shattered to lose him, she stepped right in to take over the business. It’s hard to believe she was still in charge only a year or so ago. The illness has progressed rapidly.”
“Wow,” Jenny said. “What happened to your dad?”
Alex normally hated to talk about one of the darkest times in his life, but it was so easy to tell her because he sensed her genuine interest. “He battled cancer for about seven years and died ten years ago.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“He was a good guy, and they were great together. Still dancing in the living room after twenty-five years of marriage. The hardest part of my mother’s illness is she keeps forgetting he’s gone. She asks for him all the time.”
“God, that must be so hard for you and Paul.”
“It sucks. It’s like she has to lose him all over again every time we tell her he’s gone. I hate that so much.”
She turned toward him, her arm curling around his waist as she snuggled up to him. “She’s very lucky to have two such devoted sons.”
“She was very devoted to us. The other day, after the incident in the yard, she was totally lucid. She told me how sorry she is to be doing this to us, that we should be married with families of our own by now.” All at once, he caught himself and realized he might be over-sharing. He kissed her forehead. “Sorry. I didn’t come over here to dump all my shit on you.”
“That’s not what you’re doing, Alex.”
“I sort of liked it better when you didn’t know.”
“I’m glad I know, and I hope you’ll never hesitate to talk to me about what you’re going through.”
“It’s not fair to you that I’m getting so involved with you when I don’t have a damned thing to offer you. But I can’t seem to stay away.”
“I’m glad you’re here, and you don’t need to offer me anything other than your company.”
“You and I both know it doesn’t take long for things like this to become far more complicated than that.”
“It doesn’t have to be complicated. I’m not looking to add to your stress level or give you one more thing to worry about every day.”
“You’re too good to be true.”
“No, I’m not,” she said with a laugh that became a yawn.
He stroked her hair and back. “Go to sleep.”
“Don’t you have to get home?”
“No, Paul is there. I’ll be right here.”
She exhaled a deep breath and relaxed against him.
Holding her while she slept was the best part of what had been a long, shitty day.
He’d dozed off, too, waking when she became restless, her lips moving and her hand clutching his arm. Alex couldn’t tell if she was in pain or dreaming, and he hated to wake her when she was feeling so lousy.
“Toby, wait… Don’t go. Please don’t go.”
“Jenny,” he whispered, kissing her cheek and then her lips. “Wake up, honey. You’re dreaming.”
Her eyes were full of tears that spilled down her cheeks when she opened them, seeming disoriented as she stared at him.
Undone by her tears, Alex brushed them away. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, but he could tell she wasn’t okay, especially when the tears kept on coming.
He rubbed her back, trying to soothe her.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a long period of quiet. “The dream… It was upsetting.”
“You don’t have to apologize for being upset.” He continued to rub her back, wishing he could do something to make her feel better.
“I’ll be right back,” she said as she got up and went into the bathroom.
Moved by her obvious sorrow, Alex fell back against the pillow, running his hands through his hair while he waited for her. He had so many questions, but he wasn’t sure if he dared to ask any of them.
The water ran in the bathroom for several minutes before she emerged, free of tears, and slid back into bed.
“Do you want me to go?”
She turned on her side to face him. “No.”
He took her hand and flattened his palm against hers. “Could I ask you something?”
Nodding, she focused on their joined hands.
“Who’s Toby?”
Chapter 12
Jenny held back a gasp at his gently worded question. She’d had the dream again, twice in the same week, which hadn’t happened since Toby first died. What did it mean that she’d had it again now, right when she’d started something new with Alex?
And she’d obviously spoken in her sleep. What had she said? D
id she want to know?
“He… He was my fiancé.”
“Oh.” Alex continued to stroke her hand, his touch sending electric currents up her arm and through her body. “It ended badly?”
“You could say that.” Tell him! Tell him what happened so it’s out there. I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want him to know. I want to enjoy being with him without my overwhelming tragedy standing between us.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” She forced herself to look at his face. “Will you tell me what I said when I was sleeping?”
“I don’t want to upset you.”
“I want to know.”
“You said his name and asked him not to go.”
Jenny closed her eyes tight against the unreasonable blast of pain. That it still could hurt so badly after all this time…
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Okay.”
Jenny immediately felt guilty for holding back when he’d shared so much of his story with her. But she’d seen it happen before. The minute she told him how and when she lost Toby, he would look at her differently. It would color the way he talked to her, the way he touched her, the way he thought of her.
Alex put his arm around her and snuggled her into his chest.
She closed her eyes and breathed in the appealing scent of soap and deodorant, trying to relax even as her mind raced with questions about why she’d had the dream—twice—recently. What did it mean? Would it happen again? Would she finally get to relive the final moments she’d spent with Toby? Did she need the answers to those questions before she could move forward with Alex?
“I can almost hear you thinking,” he said, his lips curving into a smile against her forehead.
“Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.”
“Stop being so nice to me.”
“Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”
“Because you’ve told me all about yourself, and I’ve shared very little of me with you.”
“You don’t need to apologize for that. I understand better than most people would.”
“It’s not fair, though.”
“I’m not keeping score. Are you?”
