Out of the Light, Into the Shadows

by Lori Foster

  “Hey?” He nuzzled against her throat. “As long as we’re taking things to a new level, you want to move in with me?”

  Desperation influenced her better judgment. “You want me to?”

  “I would love waking up with you each morning, and going to bed with you each night.”

  It was a start. “Yes, I would love that, too.” And then maybe while being in such constant close proximity she could change his mind on marriage and children. What did she have to lose? She had nearly eight months before reality forced a final decision on her, so she may as well spend it working on him.

  THE noonday sun loomed high in the sky when Mercy drove down the long cobbled driveway to her brother’s home. Over and over again in her mind, she rehearsed what she’d say to him, and what she wouldn’t say—if she could keep control of the conversation.

  Her brother had an uncanny knack for picking apart her best intentions.

  She parked beside a large fountain that funneled water into a beautiful stream. The stream ran beneath glass flooring in the foyer of her brother’s home. The extravagances of her brother’s creativity never failed to amaze her.

  There were new trees in the lawn, new cut-glass panes in the front windows. But today, Mercy had too much on her mind to be in awe of the many changes that greeted her every visit.

  At the enormous double doors, she didn’t knock. Braxton would have a fit if she ever did so. His home was her home, or so he repeatedly insisted. She opened the door and stepped into the foyer.

  Immediately, Cameo Smithson, her brother’s longtime assistant, came to greet her. No doubt Cameo had seen her pull up on the security cam.

  Arms out in welcome, Cameo said, “Mercy, I didn’t know you were coming by today. I’d have had lunch for us.”

  “I know I’m unannounced,” Mercy said after they broke away. “Sorry about that.”

  As always, Cameo looked impeccable. A low ponytail held back her light-brown hair, showcasing her high cheekbones and the soft baby blue of her eyes. Her white silk tank top fell loose over tailored black slacks and black pumps.

  If Cameo ever let herself, she’d be a knockout. But because she chose to be understated, she looked merely pretty.

  “You do not have to announce yourself, Mercy. You know that.” A very take-charge woman, Cameo hooked her arm through Mercy’s and led her into a study. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Lemonade?”

  “No, thanks.” At the moment, her stomach was unaccountably jumpy. She sank onto a plush sofa. Caught between conflicting emotions, she asked, “Is the lord and master in?”

  “For you, you know he’s always in.”

  Mercy almost winced. She did need to tell Brax of her plans. But if he’d been out somewhere, she’d have had a reprieve.

  Cam, maybe recognizing her dread, squeezed her hand and then started out the door. “Give me just a minute to get him for you.”

  Mercy shot back to her feet. “Is he busy?”

  One slim hand, unadorned, waved away that concern. “Just making business calls.”

  She rushed after Cameo. “Then don’t disturb him. I can wait.”

  Cameo turned to her with mock horror. “Do you want me to lose my job, Mercy? Of course you don’t. But that’s what would happen if I didn’t immediately tell Braxton you’re here.”

  “Baloney.” Cameo might enjoy playing that game, but Mercy knew the truth. “Brax would never fire you because he can’t get by without you. You’re his … everything.”

  Cameo’s smile showed a hint of melancholy. “Under any circumstances, with or without any assistance, your brother would more than get by, he’d succeed impossibly, and we both know it. He is by far the most capable person I know.”

  Truthfully, he was the most capable person Mercy knew, too. “True enough, I guess. But it’s wonderful that you free up so much of his time by taking care of all the pesky little details in his life.”

  “Perhaps. Now sit and relax and I’ll be right back.”

  Like she had a choice? Mercy listened to Cameo’s heels clicking on the marble floor as she headed down the long hall.

  Mercy was alone again.

  One hand to her stomach, she watched the water streaming under the foyer. Maybe she even saw a goldfish. She wasn’t certain.

  Above the foyer in the high ceiling, a skylight released sunlight to shine down on the spotless glass of the floor, decorated with a multitude of large potted plants. Natural marble tiles framed the glass and carried on through to the long hallway.

  Her brother was … decadent. But he was also generous, financially funding many charitable organizations and scholarships and selflessly donating his time to worthwhile causes.

  He overwhelmed her, so how would Wyatt feel around him?

  Mercy faded back into the study. Bright, fragrant flowers decorated the corner of a desk and a small curio table. Original artwork hung on the walls. Carefully arranged furniture gave an air of cozy comfort. Everything in the room was beautiful and very, very expensive.

  It was also all new from the last time she’d visited. Her brother had a thing about changing décor often. His mind was so quick, his energy level so high, he grew bored with most things familiar.

  Except Cameo. She’d been with him for five years now.

  Without making a single sound, her brother was suddenly there. “This is a nice surprise.”

  Mercy jumped at his voice, then turned to him with a smile. Unlike most multimillionaires, Brax dressed for himself rather than to impress. Today he wore chinos and a black polo. His midnight hair was mussed, his big feet bare.

  Before she could scrutinize him further, he had her in a warm bear hug, lifting her right off her feet.

  He smelled familiar and safe, and she hugged him back, allowing herself just a minute of sheer comfort. “I’m sorry to interrupt your day.”

  “You’re never an interruption. In fact, I’ve been thinking of you today.” He set her away from him but held on to her shoulders. His golden eyes, so like her own, stole into her soul. “How are you?”

  Mercy knew that look only too well. Depending on how he used it, it could make women melt, or scare grown men half to death.

  On her, that look meant he was already on to her and questions were just a formality. Braxton had the most uncanny intuition, especially where she was concerned. He knew when she was happy, when she was sad. And he always, without fail, knew when she was afraid.

  Trying for an enthusiastic smile, she said, “I’m great.”

  He gave her a disconcerting and measuring look and came to a different conclusion. “Don’t lie to me, Mercy.”

  “I’m not!” Not really. Well, maybe just a little. “I’m fine, really.” At least she would be as soon as she got past whatever brick walls Wyatt had built around his heart.

  Brax wasn’t buying that. He wrapped his long fingers around her wrist and stared at her palm before narrowing his gaze on her. “You’re nervous. Why?”

  Jerking her hand free, Mercy flattened her lips and crossed her arms defensively. “I’m going to be changing residences.”

  Frowning, Brax crossed his arms, too. “Tell me why moving is such a big deal.”

  She’d lost her parents so long ago, she struggled to remember them. Details about them escaped her, more so every year.

  But what she never, ever forgot was that an eighteen-year-old Braxton had taken over raising her, and never, not once, had he failed her in any way. “I’m moving in with Wyatt.”

  He didn’t even blink. “This is the man who has resisted meeting me?”

  “Yes, but it wasn’t just you. He was … resistant to meeting any of my family.”

  “I’m your only family, Mercedes.”

  “Well, I sort of consider Cameo family now, too—”

  Rather than deny that, he said, “Don’t try to change the subject.”

  “Fine.” There was no point anyway. Brax was impossible to distract. “Wyatt didn’t want to meet you because he
didn’t want things to get too …”

  “Personal?” Brax supplied with a heavy dose of derision.

  This wasn’t going well at all. “Maybe. I’m not sure.” In many ways, Braxton was old-fashioned and very overprotective. “But now we’re going to rectify that.”

  “How so?”

  This time her smile was real. “Just last night, he said he’d like to meet you over dinner. I’ll make the plans just as soon as you tell me when is good for you.”

  Braxton narrowed his eyes—and steered her toward a chair facing his desk. “Pick a place and time, and I’ll be there.”

  Funny that he’d give the same response as Wyatt. Men. They were helpless unless a woman made the plans. “I thought I should clear a time with you first because your schedule is so busy …”

  “There’s nothing I can’t rearrange for you. You know that.”

  She did know it. Always, even before her parents died in that awful plane crash, Braxton had been there for her. She dropped down into the wing chair. “Fine. I’ll make the reservations and then be in touch.”

  Settling into his seat behind his desk, he looked at her in a familiar way that told Mercy the interrogation had only just begun. “Tell me about him.”

  “Wyatt?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Who else?”

  Easy enough. “He’s wonderful, Braxton. Gorgeous and sensitive, and hardworking. Fair. Kind. Sexy. I love him, everything about him.”

  Steepling his fingers together and tapping them to his chin, Brax considered her. “What does he do for a living? Have you met his family? Are they close?”

  A good opportunity if there ever was one. “He owns his own construction company. He started it himself and built it from the ground up. He pours most of his profits back into it. He pays his crew well.”

  “You’ve met his employees?”

  She nodded. “I’ve gone to his job sites to meet him for lunch a few times. They all tease him, as men like to do with each other. But I could tell that they like and respect him. His foreman told me that Wyatt has a reputation for being honest and hardworking, meaning he finishes on time and within budget.”

  Cynicism tilted his mouth. “Sounds like a regular saint.”

  “Far from that. But then I’m not perfect, either.” Mercy locked eyes with her brother. “You know, I was thinking that his company would be a good investment for you, and with added revenue, he could reach his goals a lot sooner.”

  The tapping stopped. “If that’s what you want, I’ll check into it.”

  Again she smiled. “Don’t bother. When I mentioned it to Wyatt, he flatly refused.”

  Brax’s left eyebrow went up. “I can see that you’re dying to tell me why.”

  She did feel a little smug about Wyatt’s independent streak. She wanted to help him, but at the same time, knowing he wasn’t after the family fortune made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “He doesn’t want to be indebted to anyone. When he gets the company where he wants it to be, it’ll be his and his alone.”

  Nodding slowly, Brax said, “And his parents? He doesn’t want them involved either, or do they not have the means?”

  “His parents are deceased.”

  Brax stilled. Maybe he was empathizing, having lost his own parents so long ago, or maybe it was just deference to the situation, but his tone changed, became less challenging. “Any other family?”

  “I don’t think so. None that he ever mentions.”

  “How did he lose them?”

  Mercy shook her head, as frustrated in her inability to explain to Brax as she was with Wyatt’s lack of disclosure. In some ways she knew Wyatt better than she knew herself—and in others, he was a complete enigma. “He doesn’t like to talk about them.”

  “Hmm.”

  Oh, she knew that look, too. She sat forward in her chair. “Don’t you ‘hmm’ me, Brax.”

  He said nothing as he jotted down a short note on a piece of paper.

  “Just stop it!” She reached for the paper, but Brax folded it into his palm. “I know what you’re up to, and I forbid you to do it.”

  At her raised voice, Brax’s hazel eyes glowed. “You forbid me?” Amusement brought out a deceptive dimple. His laugh was short and mocking. “You must be in love to think you can order me around, especially when it comes to ensuring your safety.”

  “Of course I’m in love! I already told you that.”

  He stood. “Unfortunately, as much as I admire your spunk, this is not up for discussion. If you think you’re moving in with him before I know all there is to know about him, you need to think again.”

  “Damn it, Brax—”

  “Cursing, too?” He pushed a button on his desk. “Cameo, I need a thorough background check on Wyatt Reyes. ASAP, please.”

  Naturally her brother would remember Wyatt’s last name, even though she hadn’t mentioned it in weeks. “I won’t allow this!”

  Paying no mind to her anger, he said, “Now that that’s done …” He pulled her chair around to face him, knelt down in front of her, and studied her with unnerving intensity. His voice gentled when he asked, “What else is going on, Mercy.”

  Damn him, how did he know?

  “You can always talk to me, honey. You know that.”

  She resented his calm. He made her feel small and insignificant, and ten years old again. “I am not a child, Brax.”

  “No, but you are my sister and nothing will ever change that, I promise. So please, tell me what’s bothering you.”

  Mercy eyed him. “It’s downright creepy how you do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Read me. It’s just not natural.”

  Startled, he leaned back for a moment, but quickly recovered with a scowl. “You mean how I know when something is bothering my sister? My closest relative?”

  She may as well stick to her guns. “Yes, exactly. You figure things out before I even say anything.”

  “There’s nothing creepy in me caring about you and for you.”

  Mercy let out her breath. Yes, Brax made her feel ten, but he also loved her more than anyone she knew. Probably more than Wyatt, since Brax would move heaven and earth to make her happy, and Wyatt didn’t even want to marry her.

  Suddenly worried about disappointing him, she lowered her head. “You won’t like it, Brax.”

  His big hands tightened on the arms of her chair. “Try me.”

  Maybe she should. Even if he wasn’t happy about it, it would be nice to have someone to talk to. Her mind made up, Mercy nodded, choked up the words, and admitted, “I’m pregnant.”

  For only a moment, he stared at her. Then his mouth quirked. “Is that all? God Almighty, Mercy, you had me scared.”

  THREE

  WHEN Brax stood and turned away from her, Mercy quickly followed. She grabbed his hand before he could touch that blasted buzzer on his desk. “This is private , Brax.”

  Looking happier than he should, he laughed. “I’m going to be an uncle and you want me to keep it secret?”

  Oh God. Why couldn’t anything be simple anymore? “It’s not … it’s just … Wyatt doesn’t know yet.”

  That wiped the grin off his face. That blasted brow went up again. “Assuming he’s the father—”

  She slugged him in the shoulder, and only managed to hurt her hand. Her brother was solid granite. She glared displeasure at him. “Yes, of course he is.”

  “—then is there any particular reason you haven’t told him?”

  Covering her face for only a second to gather her wits, Mercy said, “Yes, there’s a reason.” She dropped her hands and summoned up some composure. “I wanted to do things in the proper order.”

  His mouth quirked. “Too late for that, isn’t it?”

  If her hand weren’t still throbbing, she’d have punched him again. Her eyes narrowed. “I doubt you want the nitty-gritty details about the conception.”

  “I’m a big boy, sweets. I can take it.”

  Her chin c
ame up. “Fine. I was on the pill, so we skipped condoms.”

  His brows came down. “And?”

  “You remember when I had that flu?”

  “Nasty stuff. I remember.”

  “Well, according to the doctor, I probably barfed up a few pills before they had a chance to take effect.”

  “Huh.” Brax thought about that. “Makes sense, I guess. I have no idea how long you’d have to keep one of those pills down to make them efficacious, but from what I remember, you threw up off and on for three days. Bad timing with the nausea and voilà—you’re pregnant. Surely you don’t feel responsible for that.”

  “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. I just hope that Wyatt will understand that.”

  Something dark and dangerous changed Brax’s expression. “You think he’ll blame you?”

  “No. I don’t know. I …” She threw up her hands. “Before I could tell him about the baby, I wanted to tell him I loved him.”

  Brax crossed his arms and nodded. “I get it. You wanted him to know that the baby didn’t influence how you feel.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So how’d he take your declaration?”

  Her heart hurt, remembering how Wyatt had reacted. “He said he loves me, too. And he wants me to move in with him.”

  “So far, so good. I see no reason I should kill the bastard, so why are you a jumble of nerves on this topic?”

  She turned away. She couldn’t face her brother while telling him the rest. “I asked him to marry me.”

  For several seconds, Brax was silent. When he spoke, he was right behind her. “His reaction?”

  She closed her eyes and whispered the awful truth. “He said marriage is out for him, because the minute a woman gets married she wants kids, and …” A lump of hurt made it difficult to swallow. Mercy shook her head. “He … doesn’t. Ever.”

  She waited for Brax to react, to say something. Knowing his temper, especially where she was concerned, she expected the worst.

  His quiet explosion—which she considered the worst and most lethal—didn’t happen.

  Instead her brother put both hands on her shoulders. “Mercy, you have to understand men. They dig in on something and can’t find a way out. Wyatt said all that without having the facts in hand, so you can’t hold him to it.”