Right Brother

by Patricia McLinn

  “It will be. Thanks again.”

  She said good night and he heard her retreating steps, then a car door open and close.

  Only when the car was gone did Jennifer straighten away from him. She kept her head down, still fumbling with the clasp of her bra.

  “Want me to do that?”

  “No!”

  Her horror at the idea of him putting on a piece of clothing she hadn’t complained about him taking off—not to mention his extremely pleasurable exploration of the flesh that piece of clothing had covered—struck him as illogical. But he knew enough about women not to mention that.

  “Okay. You want some light?”

  “No! No light.” She sucked in a breath that hitched in the middle. She started buttoning her blouse, apparently having given up on the bra. “I just want to get out of here. And forget this ever—”

  “No you don’t.”

  He clamped his hand around her wrist, halting her from buttoning the shirt to her throat. “You’re not going to run off and pretend—”

  “I’m not pretending. This was a mistake, Trent. A crazy, stupid mistake. I can’t believe I…we…I just can’t believe it.”

  “Tell me why it was a mistake.”

  “Why?” In three letters, her voice skidded up the register about an octave. If the word had been any longer, she would have had dogs responding by the end of it. “Because we work together. Because you’re younger than I am. Because we have nothing in common except this dealership. Because we’re just being thrown together by circumstances, not because we’re a…a real couple. Because you’re Trent Stenner—my ex’s brother! Because the town would go nuts. Because your parents would go nuts. Because the last thing I want to teach Ashley by example is to forget everything else I’ve taught her the first time some guy kisses her.”

  And then she delivered the knockout punch.

  “Because I don’t trust you.”

  Tell me why it was a mistake.

  Was he nuts? He hadn’t really said that, had he? He must have still been lost in the hot haze of passion, because he sure hadn’t been thinking. But now, sitting in the motel room alone, sleepless hours later, he knew she was right. Absolutely right. It had been a mistake.

  For all the reasons she’d listed. And for about another dozen she hadn’t gotten to.

  He paced to the window. Even without any lamps on, the glow of the muted TV and the night-light in the bathroom reflected the empty room back at him rather than letting him see into the dark outside.

  Because we’re just being thrown together by circumstances, not because we’re a…a real couple.

  Liz had said something similar when she broke it off last summer. That circumstances had made them convenient for each other, that they weren’t a real couple, that she wasn’t even sure they liked each other.

  She also had said that she was sure they didn’t want the same things.

  She wanted a family. And he didn’t.

  He yanked the cord that closed the drapes, masking the window.

  Too bad it didn’t shut up the voices.

  Linc’s voice, followed by his own.

  Plenty enough people who don’t find what they want in the family they were born into build a good family themselves.

  Not me. It’s the last thing I want.

  And yet there he’d been, kissing Jennifer, wanting a whole lot more.

  Jennifer Truesdale. A woman who put her daughter ahead of everything else. A woman who would tie him up in family in ways he couldn’t even begin to sort out.

  Because the last thing I want to teach Ashley by example is to forget everything else I’ve taught her the first time some guy kisses her.

  Damn right it was a mistake.

  Because now he had her taste on his lips. He had the feel of her skin. He had the scent of her hair.

  What he didn’t have was her.

  Because I don’t trust you.

  Jennifer accepted Darcie’s invitation to have a glass of wine and view her house renovations.

  Ashley was at the movies with her friends, and after last night’s sleeplessness and her difficulty concentrating at the dealership today—even after she’d prevented Trent’s efforts to open the subject—the last thing Jennifer wanted was to be alone.

  Darcie hadn’t said a word about last night, so she must not have known who was with Trent. Jennifer relaxed as they toured the house.

  In late spring, Zeke had bought the Barrett family home secretly in order to surprise Darcie and her mother, thinking Martha Barrett had moved out because of money problems. He’d gotten a surprise right back when he discovered she’d moved out so she could move in with the chief of police.

  Once Darcie accepted his marriage proposal, they’d decided to renovate the house for themselves. In the meantime, the two of them were living in Darcie’s old apartment over the garage whenever Zeke’s duties as founder and CEO of Zeke-Tech didn’t pull him back to northern Virginia.

  First, Darcie gave her a tour, spinning vivid pictures of what the house would look like when it was finished.

  Then they sat on the couch in the apartment with a tray on the cushion between them holding wine, their glasses and munchies.

  “So, tell me about the wedding plans,” Jennifer urged.

  If Darcie kept talking, maybe Jennifer would stop thinking about Trent. About what a mistake she had made. What a horrible mistake.

  At some level, she’d known she was attracted to him. But she’d succeeded in keeping it under her conscious radar. Now…now, the dragon was out of its cave. The dragon that had spent the night flaming her with memories of his mouth on hers, of the sensation of his short, prickly, yet soft hair against her palm…oh, lord, against her breast. And then his mouth on—

  “We’re still negotiating the place,” Darcie said. “But it’s definitely the first weekend in October, because we refuse to wait any longer. Mom and Mrs. Z are in a dither, saying there’s not enough time. But all I have to do is suggest that Zeke and I take over the arrangements and they back off. I think they have visions of us in Vegas, married by an Elvis impersonator.”

  Jennifer laughed. This was what she needed. A good dose of Darcie to take her mind off her troubles. To forget her mistakes.

  “So, how’s Trent?”

  Jennifer started in heated guilt, then masked it with a detailed listing of all the things she’d done and what needed doing at the dealership.

  “I didn’t ask about Stenner Autos, I asked about Trent Stenner.”

  She met her friend’s curious gaze with her best effort at blandness. “What about him?”

  “Is he as hot as he looks?”

  Oh, God. Jennifer had awakened so many times during the night in hot, aching want that she’d given up and taken a cold shower around four, then sat on the balcony waiting for dawn. “I don’t know what you—”

  “Oh, yes, you do, Jennifer. I’ve seen you two together. I thought at the fireworks…and now I know I’m right.”

  “No, you’re not right.” She made the words as stern as she could. Was there also a thread of sadness there?

  “Don’t tell me you’re letting the age thing stop you.”

  Because you’re younger than I am. The memory pricked Jennifer.

  “Or the specter of Eric,” Darcie continued.

  Because you’re Trent Stenner—my ex’s brother! Because your parents would go nuts.

  “You’ve got to admit that would be horribly awkward—talk about in-law problems!” Jennifer defended herself, producing a laugh. Then she hurriedly added, “If this were anything other than your imagination, I mean.”

  Darcie sailed on. “Lots of people have in-law problems. You can’t let it stop you because it might get complicated. Really complicated,” she amended. “If you and Trent get together—”

  “Darcie.”

  “Wait a minute, don’t say anything. Let me figure this out. You and Trent getting together would make him both Ashley’s stepfather and uncle.
”

  “Not going to happen, Darcie,” Jennifer said.

  “So when she has kids they could be… Got it! They could be their own mother’s cousins.”

  “Oh, God. That would be worthy of being on Oprah.”

  “Or Jerry Springer.”

  Jennifer felt the blood draining from her face, at the same time she caught the contagiously wicked glint in Darcie’s eyes. “Don’t you laugh, Darcie Barrett, don’t you dare.”

  But she did.

  Worse, far worse, she lured Jennifer into joining.

  When they were both exhausted, Jennifer flopped back against the cushion, one hand on her aching ribs.

  Darcie pushed an item across the tray. “This is for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “The key to the house’s back door. You’ll need a flashlight, because you can’t count on electricity downstairs. But we’ve kept the electricity to the guest room I showed you, and the bathroom next to it, so Quince can use them when he’s in town. He’s a great guest. Even changes the sheets before he leaves so it’s ready for other guests.”

  “What?”

  “Quince—remember him? The one I wanted to fix you up with? But, oh, no, you had to go for the family plan.”

  “Not who, Darcie. What’s this for?” She pointed at the glinting object. “And why—why would you—?”

  “Oh, c’mon, Jennifer. It doesn’t take a world-class detective to solve this one. I do have eyes. And I know your clothes. Even if I hadn’t caught you guys making out in the dealership’s lot—”

  Jennifer’s effort to protest came out as a choking sound.

  “I do know a little something about chemistry, thanks to Zeke.”

  Darcie’s face got that glow she’d had the past few months, and her voice softened, so Jennifer didn’t have the heart to interrupt her.

  “Add to all that, that I know you,” Darcie said. “For starters, I know you would never take Trent back to your apartment with Ashley there. And you wouldn’t go to his motel room, because word would be all over Drago before you closed the door. But if you’re discreet, like bring one car, put it in the garage and close the door, then there’s no reason anybody has to know. Lights are on variable timers to go off and on all over the house. Who’s to say that’s not the explanation if there are lights at weird hours.”

  She knew Darcie had kept talking to give her time to recover.

  “I know you mean well, Darcie. But, really this isn’t necessary. I saw to that.”

  “Oh, yeah? How’d you do that?”

  “I told him all the reasons it never should have happened.”

  “Reasons besides being on Jerry Springer? No.” She held out a hand as if Jennifer had been about to reply. “There’s no reason you should tell me anything. Me or anybody else. I know about feeling you have no clue what’s going on. But it’ll settle down. At some point everything will just be real obvious. At least that’s how it worked for me.”

  “You didn’t have a nearly teenage daughter,” Jennifer said dryly.

  Darcie gave her a considering look that for some reason reminded Jennifer of Trent. “What’s that got to do with it?”

  “That’s the thing about being a mother. You’re supposed to be sure of things.”

  “Nah,” Darcie said. “You’re supposed to be human and do your best. Besides, I said you didn’t owe me or anybody else any explanation. That includes Ashley.”

  “Well, it’s all moot anyway.” She gave a shaky laugh. “I told Trent I don’t trust him.”

  “Ouch.”

  Less than two weeks before the Grand Reopening, Jennifer halted at the threshold of Trent’s office when she saw he was on the phone and started to back out. But he waved her in.

  By the second day after that encounter in the parking lot, they were close enough to their usual way of dealing with each other that she’d felt confident no one else could sense the underlying tension, though she did.

  His gaze followed her as she took the chair across the desk, while he listened intently to whatever was being said on the phone.

  He sighed a concession. “Okay… Yes, I mean it…. You know me better than that, Tracy. I’ll be there…I’ve got all the info.” He snorted, amusement and annoyance in the sound. “Fine, fax it again just in case…. Yeah, it’ll be good to see you, too, Tracy.” His voice gentled on those words.

  She shouldn’t have come in. She should have ignored his gesture. She didn’t need to hear his private conversation. She didn’t need to know about his life outside of Drago—outside of this building for that matter. He could have a harem of hundreds for all she cared.

  No, she definitely shouldn’t have come in. Because she had a lot of work to do. She couldn’t afford to just sit here.

  But could she walk out? Wouldn’t that look like…well, something?

  She would look through the papers she’d brought in, act as if she’d forgotten something, give him that one-finger-raised be-back-in-a-minute gesture, then slip out. By the time he finished his call she could have gotten all sorts of things done.

  Jennifer opened the folder with the list of parts sales from the first weeks of their Web site and started flipping through them. Before she could proceed with her act, however, he was wrapping up the call.

  “Right, I’ll see you then. Bye, Tracy.”

  His hand still on the receiver, he gave Jennifer a rueful smile and said, “How’d you like to go to Chicago with me Saturday night?”

  Visions of harems didn’t exactly burst into oblivion, but they did grow hazy. But that might have been from feeling suddenly light-headed. “What?”

  “It’s this benefit thing downtown. The wife of a former teammate who’s with the Bears now got involved, and she heard I was in the area, so she’s twisted my arm to go. It’ll be a really nice event—Tracy never does anything halfway. I can guarantee it’ll be worth the trip.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  His gaze on her sharpened and the skin over the bones of his face seemed to tighten. But his voice remained easy when he said, “I won’t cause you any trouble, Jennifer. You made yourself clear. I wouldn’t mistake this for a date, so you needn’t worry about that.”

  “I’m not—” She started to lie before he cut her off.

  “It is, however, a great business opportunity. If you knew Tracy, you’d know that the top movers and shakers in the Chicago metropolitan area and beyond are bound to be there—and I do mean bound. She’d tie ’em up and drag ’em if she had to. So think of the contacts you could make. These kinds of contacts can be golden.”

  To succeed in business, she could not let personal feelings of discomfort prevent her from making the most of opportunities.

  Oh, she didn’t have any delusions that Stenner Auto could compete with major Chicago area dealers. But they could aspire to nibble market share from outfits in the suburbs always stretching hungry fingers to the west. Why couldn’t consumers take a pleasant drive to the country to look for a car? The right contacts might help.

  “Golden,” she agreed. “What time do we leave?”

  “What on earth am I going to wear?”

  “The dress you wore at the Lilac Ball,” Darcie said.

  “It’s a dozen years old.”

  “This is a new group of people—they won’t have seen it before.”

  One of the things Jennifer most liked about Darcie was her hardheaded sensitivity. She didn’t ask why Jennifer didn’t buy something new, she simply plunged into the problem at hand, recognizing the realities.

  “They would have seen the original it was patterned after fifteen years ago when it was in style. This is Chicago,” Jennifer said. She sounded remarkably like Ashley in the moment, and she didn’t even care. “And these are society types. They’ll probably be wearing Versace, Valentino and Dior.”

  “Sounds like a law firm.” Darcie chuckled.

  Jennifer gave her a harried glare. “I need to look good—great—for thi
s event. Because it’s such a good business opportunity,” she rushed to add when Darcie’s eyes lit up.

  “You can wear my dress—the one I wore to the Lilac Ball. You said it was a classic style, and Zeke sure liked it. Though there’s a button or two you’ll have to sew back on.”

  Jennifer forgave her friend’s reminiscently lascivious grin. Darcie deserved that good—and apparently hot—memory, especially considering the way she’d suffered when Zeke left the day after the ball. It had taken the dope several long weeks to come to his senses and come back to Darcie.

  “It is a classic style and it looks fabulous on you. But in case you haven’t noticed, we have different shapes.”

  “Sure, rub it in,” Darcie grumbled.

  “You’ve got to be kidding. You are kidding, right?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I sure hope you lie better than that when you have to interrogate dangerous criminals. I am talking about my disbelief that you could still be stuck on that thing from high school of thinking you don’t have a good figure. You have a fabulous figure.” She eyed her friend’s curves. “But that means that, in addition to being several inches shorter than you, I don’t have enough to fill the top of that dress the way it needs to be filled.”

  Darcie wouldn’t accept that. She made Jennifer try on the dress.

  Standing in front of the mirror with the fabulous dress of varied shades of red hanging loosely from her shoulders, Jennifer sighed. This dress matched Darcie’s figure the way Darcie matched Zeke.

  She sighed again. Would the pieces of her life ever fit?

  “So, it’s a little long,” Darcie said. “We can hem it.”

  “Length isn’t the major problem.”

  “So, we’ll take it in.”

  “We? We both flunked that section of Home Ec. And even if we could…” Jennifer reached behind her and pulled the fabric tight.

  “Geez, you look like one of those anorexic Hollywood starlets. Like a Popsicle stick wrapped in pretty fabric.”

  Jennifer gave a pained chuckle. “Just what I always wanted to hear.”

  “But you don’t usually look like that. You’re gorgeous. When you wear that clingy, swingy purple dress, the place has to go under a flood watch for all the men drooling.”