God knew how he filled out that thought. Cruel? Mean hearted? He really didn’t mean to give her the impression that she was too ugly to warrant his time. She was pretty. Very pretty. Actually, she was damn near gorgeous.
She just wasn’t Phoebe.
Before he could turn around, his brother had disappeared. There was nothing he could do about it—not for a few minutes. She was obviously mortified and miserable. He couldn’t insult her, just because he wanted to kill his brother. Come to think of it, he’d really wanted to kill both brothers, because for damn sure, Bear had been consulted on anything Moose did.
Both of them were dirt. Turncoats. Pond scum.
He served Marjorie a glass of wine and then unearthed the platter of hors d’oeuvres, after which he listened to the entire, unabridged story of her marriage to Wild Curly Foster. Their courtship. His death. Their two children. The money he’d left her. Her evil in-laws. The trip she’d taken to Paris last year to recover from all the stress. How much she missed a man.
When the telephone rang, though, he finally had an excuse to run downstairs. The call was from the local police, asking his brother for a donation. Fox offered them a four-figure gift, but after he hung up he told Marjorie the call had been from Moose—that there was some kind of emergency downstairs; he’d check it out and promised to be right back.
Faster than lightning he charged downstairs, taking the restaurant’s back door into the kitchen. He stormed past the clanging pots and steaming smells and cooks yelling at each other, past the computer service area and the maître d’s. Finally he located the fink—opening wine for a crowded party in one of the restaurant’s private rooms.
Moose spotted him in the doorway. Fox figured his brother must have noticed the steam coming out of his ears, because he promptly aimed his thumb toward the outside.
In the fresh, cold air of the parking lot, Fox darn near took a swing at him. “What the hell were you doing?”
Moose lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “The idea was for you to rejoin life again. To get out of the bachelor house. To budge you off ‘go.’ To remind you of the good things in life.”
“So you thought I needed fixing up with a woman!”
“I didn’t say that.”
“What the hell would you call it, then?”
“What I’d call it,” Moose said calmly, “was Phoebe’s idea.”
“What?”
Moose slugged his hands in his pockets. “She called me two mornings ago. She knew it was my night to have you over. She assumed I’d be setting up a poker game, but she wanted to suggest a different idea. I do happen to know a few women, you know.”
“Phoebe told you to set me up with a woman?” He still couldn’t grasp it.
“Not set up, Fergus, for God’s sake. She just said part of healing—part of motivating you to rejoin life again—was remembering the good things in life you used to enjoy.”
“Like women?”
“Hey. I figured you’d be pissed as hell. But I guess Phoebe figured I’d be the brother who really knew women, you know? So I’d pick someone okay. And Marjorie’s heard about you for a blue moon. Kind of had a crush on you from afar, or so they say—”
“I got it, I got it.” There was nothing more to say, and he couldn’t keep Marjorie just waiting upstairs by herself. He had to get back up there and get himself out of this. But his mind kept reeling in the information that this had been Phoebe’s idea. An idea that surfaced two mornings ago…which meant it was the morning after they’d made wild, tumultuous love on her back porch.
The only conclusion he could draw was that their making love must have scared her—really scared her. Badly scared her.
But why…? He didn’t have a clue.
Friday morning Phoebe was in the middle of her Baby Love wellness class when she heard a knock on the back door. She scooped up two of the babies and carried the thumb-suckers with her to answer it. Fergus grinned when he saw them.
“Got your hands full, I see.” He dropped a kiss on her nose, then moved on past, carrying a toolbox—and shoes that tracked in sand, she noticed. “I just had an extra hour to spend on the waterfall, so thought I’d take advantage if you didn’t have any clients in there.”
“I don’t. I’ve got a class going in the living room, but that’s not a problem. How’re you doing?”
“Whistling good. Couldn’t be better,” he assured her.
Not that Fox had ever complained, but his perky tone was distinctly unlike him. “No aches or pains at all?”
“Nothing worth mentioning. Went to the doc yesterday. He hadn’t seen me in a while, claimed I looked alive for the first time in months. Believe me, that was a mighty compliment, coming from hi—”
“So,” she said in her laziest tone, “did you have a good time with your brother the other night?”
He peeled off his jacket and started laying out gear, barely glancing up. “You mean Moose’s night-out thing? I’ll tell you the truth, red. The night did just what I think you wanted it to—jolted me good. And I can hear the babies from here—so you can go back to your class, don’t worry about me.”
He hunkered down on his knees with his back to her. Her mouth was still open to ask him another casual, lazy question, but somehow that was impossible now. Between the perkiness and the snappy kiss on the nose and the mysterious dark glint in his eyes, he was really acting…indecipherably different.
Had Moose set him up with that Marjorie? Had anything happened? Was she going to chew off any more fingernails fretting about it?
Damn it. Had he kissed TOW? That Other Woman?
“Phoebe?”
When she heard one of the moms’ voices, she quickly spun around and rejoined the circle in her living room. Her therapy room was huge, but still not big enough to accommodate six moms and their babies—at least when the group needed to be spread out all over the carpet. Everybody brought mats for the Baby Love class. The babies were all naked. None was older than four months.
The babies were all happier than clams. The moms were all exhausted and frazzled. Which was why she’d started the program.
“Okay, now. A relaxed baby makes for a relaxed mom…and I’m making you a promise. The more you touch your baby, the happier he’ll be. We’re going to do four types of massage exercises today. Playful. Enervating. Comforting. And calming. One at a time…”
She usually went around the circle, working with each baby and mom individually. And she intended to this morning, too, but after starting the group with the technique for the second exercise, she popped to her feet and strayed down the hall.
“Hey,” she said cheerfully.
“Hey back,” Fox said, but he didn’t turn around. He’d pulled off his shirt, stripped down to old jeans and boots and gloves for the stone and mortar work. The plumbing was all done for her waterfall. So was the tile part of the pool. Really, the project was nearly done—it just happened to be at the messiest and dustiest part of the construction.
Temporarily, though, she didn’t give a rat’s tail about her waterfall. Even a few weeks ago, Fox would never have stripped off his shirt—no matter how hot it was—because he’d never have wanted anyone to see his scars.
They were riveting, she thought. Not pretty. But all the wounds were closed now, the swelling and discoloration completely gone. His natural complexion was more olive than pale, so even in early spring his skin had a healthy ruddiness. The breadth of his shoulders, the ripple of muscle in his forearms, spoke of how hard he’d worked to regain strength. She noticed that he hadn’t shaved. The fuzz of whiskers on his chin seemed to be coming in blonder than his head hair. Mostly she noticed the strong profile, the good-looking nose and wickedly sexy eyes and…
“Is your class over?”
She jumped when Fox suddenly spoke. “No, no, I just wanted to see how you were doing. You’re really moving along!”
“Yeah, the worst was the plumbing. I should be able to finish up the mortar and all th
is messy, smelly stuff by Saturday. So that’ll also give it Sunday to dry before you’ve got people in here again. That sound okay to you?”
“Sounds good. So you had a really good time on your Moose’s night out, huh?”
“Yeah, I’ll say. Hmm. Phoebe, I think you need a different shower head than the one you picked out. One with a softer spray.”
“Okay.”
“You want me to pick it out, get it?”
“Yeah, whatever you think is best. Just tell me and I’ll reimburse you. So…we’re on for Monday, late afternoon, right?”
“Right. In fact, there’s something I’d like to do with you on Monday, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure. What?”
“Nothing weird. But you’ve been pushing me to get outside, get more in the fresh air and all…and there’s something I’d like to do that afternoon. Unless you object—”
“No, no, that’s fine. I can do the exercises with you almost anywhere. So.” She cleared her throat. “Whatever you did with Moose, you think you’ll do it again?”
He lifted his head. “I hear one of those babies crying. Your class is probably wondering where you are.”
She heard the baby cry, too, but still hesitated. It was one of her absolutely favorite projects, the healthy Baby Love massage group, yet still, she couldn’t seem to move.
And Fergus suddenly sighed. He pushed up, from his hands on his knees and slowly walked toward her, his hands and torso covered with a thin layer of mortar dust, his jeans crusted with it. He came close enough to touch her but didn’t—which was probably a good thing, because eventually she did have to go back to the class, and she was dressed for them in a white terry tunic and terry pants.
He came so close, though, that she could see the dark glints in his eyes. His gaze magnetized hers. She couldn’t look away. That close, she could no more have looked away than stop breathing.
He said softly, “I think it’s cute, Red. Your trying to set me up with other women. God knows, no one ever had the nerve to try that on me before.”
She’d have answered him—except that he closed the few inches between them. His hands didn’t touch her—his dusty, sweaty torso didn’t touch her—but he bent down and brushed his mouth on hers. It wasn’t a kiss. More…the threat of one. More…the promise of one.
“You want to know if I kissed her?” he murmured.
“No.”
“You want to know if I considered—”
“No.”
“Because I’ll tell if you ask me. I’ll be honest with you. No matter what. You’d be honest with me the same way, wouldn’t you, red?”
“Yes. Of course I would,” she breathed. But something about the way he’d kissed her, the way he was whispering, the way he was looking at her, had her so rattled she couldn’t think straight. She was a pinch away from hiccupping from nerves. Her. The woman who could probably get a Ph.D. in laidback. “I need to go back to my class.”
“I know you do.”
“We’ll talk later.”
“Oh, yeah,” he murmured. “I know you’ve got work today. But we’re definitely going to talk again. And soon.”
She stumbled back toward her class, thinking, all right, now she knew that Fergus had an ugly, evil side to him. A manipulative, wicked side. A side that turned her mind to jam and her sanity to jelly.
He talked to her as if they were lovers. Which, she guessed, they were. But she’d emotionally shut the door on believing they could make it long-term. She’d hoped—she admitted that she’d fiercely hoped—things might have turned out differently. But when he’d praised her for being “so sexy,” she’d felt her heart thud like the clunk of a coin down a long, dark well.
He wanted her, she didn’t doubt that. But sex, even great sex, was just no measure that he seriously valued or respected her.
Nothing had changed. She had fiercely wanted to heal Fergus—to be the one to make a difference for him—and every day, every week, she’d literally seen her efforts working. He was so, so much better, mentally, physically and emotionally. She wasn’t the only one responsible for that, but Phoebe gave herself credit for playing a key role.
That was what mattered. Getting him healed. Not what she wanted. Not what she dreamed.
She stomped back into the class and blurted, “Damn it. We are going to relax, class!”
The moms all looked at her as if she were crazy—until someone laughed. And then she tried to laugh, too.
Ten
W hen Fox pulled into her driveway, Phoebe had to put up with two solid minutes of whining and begging from Mop and Duster. “I know it’s Fox, you guys, but you can’t go. It’s not our truck. And it’s raining. And you know I won’t leave you alone for long. Come on, you two. Be reasonable.”
The dogs had heard all that. They also knew they had the dog door open to the whole backyard, and that their dishes in the kitchen were heaped with food and fresh water. They just didn’t want Phoebe to leave, and they loved being with Fergus, besides.
So did she—which was the problem. She pulled her rain jacket hood over her head to run outside. Grumbling clouds swirled, leaking more drizzle than rain for now, but warning that worse was coming. Even at four in the afternoon it was darker than winter, with moments of sudden stillness and then moments when the fresh green leaves suddenly trembled and tossed in fretful anticipation.
Lightning crackled just as she reached the door of his SUV and slammed inside.
“I was coming in to get you—”
“Well, that would have been silly. Then both of us would have gotten wet.” She tossed her jacket in the backseat. The wipers and defroster had to be on because of the foggy steam, but underneath all that threat of storm, the temperature was muggy and close. She should have worn her hair up, she thought, and her long-sleeved green tee was probably going to be too warm, as well. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”
For the first time, she glance at Fox, then quickly away. That was the trick, she mused. If she just didn’t look at those mesmerizing eyes, that sexy narrow mouth, that look of him, too hard, too long, she’d be able to keep some emotional distance.
“I’m not trying to be mysterious. I just wanted to show you a place. If I told you about it first, I was afraid it’d color your reaction, so I just wanted you to see it. And I promise, it’s not a long drive.”
“I couldn’t believe how much work you’d gotten done on the waterfall over the weekend.”
“Yeah…even working around the hours you need the room, I should have it done by the end of the week.”
She’d guessed that. She’d also guessed that Fergus was likely to call off their relationship completely when the project was done—partly because he was at the end of her recovery program for him as well. She had one more intensive exercise she wanted to work with him on, but Phoebe could see for herself that he was totally on the right track. Maybe he wasn’t ox strong quite yet, but his shoulders and arms had regained all their muscle tone. He moved with virile, vital purpose again, energy, stamina.
He didn’t need her anymore.
“You haven’t mentioned having a bad headache in over a week,” she said. “You’re sleeping better?”
He shot her a look. “How about if we talk about how you’re sleeping instead?”
Not well without him, but she could hardly say that when both of them avoided mentioning ever making love, as if saying it aloud would bite them in the butt. She said, “Okay, I get it. I won’t hound you about your health for a whole two hours, okay?”
“Good. I’ll hold you to it.” He peered out the windshield. “Damn. I really want you to see this place. Maybe the rain’ll quit.”
That seemed as likely as cows flying, judging from the hissing wind and angry sky, but it wasn’t as if driving were dangerous. The blacktop glistened as they took the twisting, curling road out of Gold River. Slopes turned into hills, then climbed into more mountainous terrain.
He was right. It wa
sn’t a far drive. He turned down a gravel road that led eventually to…nothing. Where he stopped and braked, she saw a long expanse of meadow, carpeted in wildflowers, leading to a creek that splashed silver in the rain. Boulders on the other side led up to a hillside of rich, emerald-green trees.
“What do you think?”
She cocked her head curiously, unsure what he wanted her to say. Her first thought was that the wondrous place resembled the safe haven he’d described in the first exercise they’d done together…but she couldn’t imagine that had any relevance to why he’d brought her here—or what he wanted her to say. “It’s gorgeous.”
He didn’t exactly look disappointed, but something in his expression changed. Suddenly his gaze looked…careful, and his shoulders stiffened with tension. “Yeah, it’s pretty. But what can you picture here? I mean, try to imagine it if it weren’t raining and gloomy. If the sun were shining down on the water and the mountainside…”
“I think it’s gorgeous in the rain and would be even more beautiful in the sunshine.” She spoke truthfully but couldn’t seem to think. He obviously wanted her to react in some way, yet she had no clue what he wanted from her.
He turned off the engine and just leaned back, staring out the window instead of at her. “I’ve been thinking about moving. I haven’t minded being by my mom, but…I just want my own place. I rented before. That seemed the simplest choice when I didn’t have the time or interest in maintaining a place of my own. But now…the idea of a home is a lot more appealing.”
She could see his profile, the strong nose, the sharp eyes, but nothing in his expression gave away what he was feeling. “You feel up to making a major move?”
“I know I’m not moving at racehorse speed yet, but yeah. I’m getting there.” He hesitated, as if hoping she’d comment more, but again she felt an attack of nerves.
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