by Francis Ray
“You finish your homework?”
Mark’s head went down. “Almost.”
John’s laser gaze sliced through Brooke. “Don’t worry, son. We’ll finish it at home.”
Brooke immediately felt guilty. “It’s my fault,” Brooke tried to explain. “I guess time got away from me.”
He set Amy on her feet. “Go get your things while I find Claire and thank her.”
“Here I am,” Claire said, coming into the foyer. “You’re right on time. Did things go all right?”
“Fine.” He reached for Amy’s backpack. “Thanks again, Claire. Good night.”
“Good night,” the children called back as their father hurried them to his truck.
“Good night.” Claire was still frowning as she closed the front door. “You two still having problems?”
“He thinks I’m an irresponsible dimwit and he’s right,” Brooke said with a disgusted sigh as she followed Claire back into the family room.
Frowning, Claire paused. “What happened?”
Brooke was almost afraid to confess her blunder. Claire would undoubtedly think the same thing. “I never got around to helping Mark finish his homework.” Brooke shoved a hand through her short hair. “The time got away from me. I tried to explain, but John just stared a hole in me. Surely the teacher won’t mind one night,” she said, but it came out more as if she were seeking reassurance than a statement.
It wasn’t to be. “Mark is in accelerated classes. He’s always been at the top of his class since he was in kindergarten. He’s an exemplary student and child.”
Brooke groaned. She’d already figured out he was smart. She’d only had to tell him once how to pack the baskets and products. He could put the labels on as well as she could. “I messed up.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Claire told her gently.
Brooke thought of Mark dropping his head when his father had mentioned the homework. He hadn’t looked at her or blamed her. He was a good kid. “I better get out of your hair. I’ll see you in the morning.” Grabbing her oversized bag, she headed for the door.
“I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.”
“Night,” Brooke called as she went to her car, her thoughts troubled. She’d let Mark down. Superimposed over the image of Mark was his father’s tightly controlled anger, his disgust. No one had ever looked at her that way. His son might have forgiven her, but he never would.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When you mess up, you really mess up.
Brooke stared at her credit card bill and felt her muscles tense. Not because of the amount she owed, although it was considerable, it was the charge from Randle Garage that held her attention. No wonder her salesperson at the Jaguar dealership had said he’d be happy to send her a check to cover the charges.
“Ninety-seven dollars.”
A brief call to her salesperson had confirmed her suspicion. John had only charged her the wholesale price of the battery. She felt lower than a snake’s belly after the way she’d acted toward him. Not helping Mark with his homework only compounded the feeling.
Grabbing her purse, she was out the door. She had a stop to make before she went to Claire’s.
Twenty-two minutes later Brooke pulled up in front of John’s garage, which was located off the access road near a strip shopping center. There were eight bays in the prefabricated structure, with an attached office to the left. Despite it being a little after nine, the bays were all full and several cars were parked in an adjacent parking area, waiting, she supposed, for their turn.
Brooke parked beside a Lexus and went inside the office. Several people were sitting around the waiting area, watching the TV mounted on the wall or flipping through magazines. She went straight to the waist-high counter. The three men in blue overalls behind it greeted her almost simultaneously, grinning for all they were worth and all asking if they could help.
Brooke’s natural smile widened. Seems she hadn’t lost her touch after all. “Thank you, gentlemen,” she said. “Is John in?”
All three looked taken aback. One with the name of Greg stitched on the pocket of his blue overalls spoke first. “You a relative or something?”
There was no mistaking the hope in his voice. She definitely hadn’t lost her touch. “No relations. No interest.”
His smile widened. “I’ll show you.”
“I can show her,” the one with the name Fred said.
“Both of you have tune-ups to do, so I’ll show her.”
That brought a heated debate about who would take her until a frigid voice brought the argument to an abrupt halt. “Enough.”
Brooke and the three men jumped in response. She didn’t even try her smile out on John. He was immune.
His mouth in its usual disapproving line, he stared coldly at her. “Come with me.” Without waiting for a response, he spun on his heels and started for an open office door behind the counter.
No “please,” just an order. She thought of putting her hands on her hips and giving him a piece of her mind, then remembered the credit card bill. Sighing, she followed him through a door into an office area that was as neat as the rest of his business. On the wall behind him were family pictures and framed artwork by Mark and Amy. Mark’s pencil drawing of a house was neatly drawn, whereas Amy’s was just lines, but both were in a place of honor.
“What is it you want?”
She hadn’t expected it to be easy. “I came to apologize.” She pulled the credit card bill from her pocket. “I didn’t know until I got home last night and opened my mail. Thank you.”
He had almost hoped she had come to chew him out about how rude he’d been last night. He didn’t want anything to soften his opinion of what a spoiled brat she was. “You’re welcome.” He sat in his chair and pulled a folder toward him.
He heard her sigh and glanced up. The same unwanted feelings punched him in the gut. She was beautiful. The little cropped top showing off her smooth stomach made his hands itch.
“I wanted—” She paused as a brief knock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” John said, irritated because it meant she would have to be in his office longer than he wanted. He didn’t want her there, not with her sexy body and her expensive perfume trying to twist his insides.
Greg, one of his mechanics, stuck his head in the door. Behind him John could see Fred and Kent trying to look in as well. He didn’t need two guesses to figure out why. “You need something?”
Greg came in, grinning like fool and throwing glances at Brooke. “Excuse me, miss.”
“No problem,” she said brightly.
“What is it, Greg?”
“Ah, just wanted to know if you wanted to send for takeout at Marty’s for lunch.”
John glanced at the clock on the wall in front of him. They never decided on lunch this early. “Fine.”
Greg was barely out the door before there was another knock. John gritted his teeth.
Fred popped in, once again nodding to Brooke. “The parts came in for the ’Benz. Thought you’d want to know.”
He did, but it could have waited. “Thank you.”
“Miss,” Fred said with another nod.
“Fred,” she replied.
Fred’s eyes lit up.
“Goodbye, Fred, and tell the others I don’t want to see another person unless the building is on fire.”
The grin faded. “Yes, boss.”
With her sultry looks, she was the cause of the men coming into his office. She couldn’t be more than five foot, two inches, which was worse because it made a man feel protective toward her. Being built on the lush side made her lethal.
“You have a friendly group of men.”
“They’re acting like idiots,” John spat out. The way she was dressed, the way she looked at them that encouraged their behavior. Linda would have never acted that way. As soon as the thought materialized, John cursed himself for comparing his wife to a shallow person like Brooke.
“I really am sorry about Mark’s homework. Claire told me what an exemplary student he is. I hope I didn’t mess up his record or anything.”
Since there was obvious concern in her voice, John let himself bend enough to say, “We finished it after we got home.”
“He wasn’t sleepy this morning, was he? I wouldn’t want him getting in trouble because of me.”
His son wouldn’t be the first male nor the last to get in trouble over Brooke, John imagined. He certainly didn’t plan to join the list. “We weren’t that much over his bedtime.”
Brooke smiled at him and John felt the kick he’d experienced the first time she’d smiled at him. “If that’s all…” He let his voice trail off.
She sighed, causing her lush breasts to rise over the neckline of her square top. John barely kept from crumbling the folder in his hands. “There was one other thing. Claire and Lorraine think it’s a good idea and it would really help the business.”
He racked his brain, but couldn’t think of anything he could do to help their business. “What is it?”
She took another of those breaths and bit her lower lip. “We want you to be the Man of Bliss.”
“What?”
“I know it’s asking a lot, but we need a man to exemplify all the attributes of what women look for in a man, to go on our Web site,” she explained, bracing both hands on his desk and leaning toward him. “You’d really be helping us out if you’d do it. The pictures could be taken on the beach.”
“No. I don’t have time for such foolishness.”
“Foolishness.” Brooke jerked upright. Her black eyes flashed. Her small-fisted hands braced themselves on her hips. “Foolishness because we want to make a success of our lives? Foolishness because we don’t want to be caught in a job crunch again? Foolishness because we believe in each other? If anybody knows what it is to open their own business, you should. Thanks for nothing.”
She hadn’t gone two steps before shame hit him. “Wait,” he called when she was almost at the door. She didn’t stop. John was forced to round the desk and grab her arm. An electric spark shot up his arm. He jerked his hand free. Her eyes rounded. Her mouth opened in a soundless gasp.
Hell. That’s all he needed. To be attracted to a selfish flirt like Brooke.
Folding her arms beneath her breasts she glared up at him. John didn’t know if she was punishing him or not. He just tried to keep his gaze from dropping below her neckline. “I do know what it is to start out on your own. I might not have had the courage if it hadn’t been for Linda. She believed in me.”
Her hands dropped to her sides. “Your wife?” Brooke asked gently.
John nodded, not knowing if he’d mentioned Linda to remind himself or to try to explain. “Mark was eighteen months old at the time and we had one bay. She brought him to work with her and made it seem easy. She never stopped believing in me.”
“She sounds like she was a wonderful woman,” Brooke said softly. “Claire told me about her. Do Mark or Amy take after their mother?”
A grin came to his face. “Both. Amy has her tenacity and love of life. Mark has her brains and sweet disposition.”
“Thank goodness,” Brooke said, then her eyes widened as she realized what she’d implied. “I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did,” John said cutting her off.
She grinned up at him.
He found himself grinning back at her. His smile died as he continued to stare down at her. He didn’t want to be attracted to her. Turning, he strode back behind his desk as if that would protect him.
“Please reconsider,” Brooke asked. “We’re scheduled to sign the lease today and afterward we’re going over to meet the contractor. Having the Man of Bliss would be one less problem.”
“Dressed like that?” he blurted before he could stop himself. He could have gladly bitten off his tongue.
Brooke glanced down at herself, then back at him. “What’s wrong with what I have on?”
In that micro-ribbed white tank top and hip-hugging black cropped pants with strappy low-heeled sandals, she’d have the poor man eating out of her hand. The thought occurred to him that she might have had the same idea when she came to see him.
“I asked you a question.”
“Sorry, you’re a grown woman, not a four-year-old who attracts dirt like a magnet.”
Her posture relaxed. “Amy is so sweet. You should have seen her helping us.”
His children hadn’t been able to stop talking about Brooke. He came to a quick decision. “The children and I try to spend time together every Saturday morning. How about if I come over around nine and we can take the pictures on the beach behind Claire’s house?”
Brooke flashed him another heart-stopping smile. “It’s a date. Bye and thanks again. Really. You won’t be sorry.” Opening the door she was gone.
John sank down in his chair, hoping she was right that in trying to prove himself immune to Brooke and help Claire, he hadn’t made a big mistake.
* * *
She had to keep trying.
“Everything is going well,” Lorraine told Hamilton as they sat at the breakfast table in the bay window nook of the kitchen. “We’ve made a lot of progress in stockpiling supplies. You should see what we’ve done.”
“I’m rather busy at the moment.” Hamilton sipped his coffee with one hand and made a notation with the other on his PalmPilot.
Desolation swept over her. From the earliest days of their marriage they had decided that the breakfast table would be a time for them to discuss matters as a family. Even when he was his most rushed, Hamilton had never broken that rule until now.
“Hamilton, please.”
His hand paused briefly with the pointer. “I’m taking a flight out tomorrow to Washington for the Isaac account. I hope you didn’t forget to get my suits from the cleaners.”
She had forgotten his suits. “I thought things were going well.”
“Just some minor complications I have to clear up.” Setting the cup in the saucer, he picked up the PalmPilot and stood. “I may be late, but I’m sure you have other plans.”
He left before she had a chance to say anything more. She let her head fall forward into her palm. He just didn’t, or wouldn’t, understand.
When he came back through on his way to the garage, she lifted her head. “Why are you punishing me?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t lie,” she said, coming to her feet. “At least be man enough to admit what you’re doing.”
Irritation crossed his face. “What do you want from me?”
“To be happy that I’m doing something that I enjoy. I’m busy doing something I love, not having an affair.”
Eyes hard, Hamilton stepped closer. Lorraine didn’t step back. He had always been possessive and jealous, but he would hurt himself before he’d harm her or the kids.
“Is that what this is all about?” she asked. “You’re afraid that there’s some other man out there?”
“Of course not,” he said as if the thought wouldn’t cross his mind in a million years.
Lorraine couldn’t decide if he was telling the truth or not. Acting on instinct, she went to him and despite the stiffness of his body, the coldness in his face, she slid her arms around his waist and held on. “I love you. Have always loved you. This has nothing to do with the way I feel about you. It has to do with my trying to find my own way.”
“I thought you had already found it with me,” he said tightly.
“Hamilton, don’t.”
“I’ll be late.”
Closing her eyes, she slowly released her hold on him and straightened. He turned away as soon as he was free.
“Hamilton,” she whispered to the closed door. “Why won’t you try and understand?”
Turning away, she fought the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She was not going to cry. Why cou
ldn’t Hamilton be as understanding as Thomas? She never thought she’d compare her husband to another man, but it was becoming increasingly difficult not to do so. Thomas couldn’t seem to do enough for them. He’d had the utilities turned on almost immediately, found a cleaning service, and even located a contractor to paint and build lighted recess shelving.
The phone rang and she picked it up. “Hello.”
“Good morning, Lorraine.”
Her face brightened instantly. “Good morning, Thomas.”
“Sorry to be calling so early, but I may have found a couple more glass cases for you at a reasonable price. Would you like to go look at them?”
She reached in the drawer beneath the countertop for a pen and paper. “Just tell me where.”
“I’m still at home and can pick you up in about five minutes.”
“I’ll be ready.” She always dressed and put on makeup when she got up, a Southern tradition in her home.
“Great. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Lorraine hung up the phone and went in search of her purse, wondering, not for the first time, why couldn’t Hamilton be more like Thomas.
* * *
Claire woke up with a smile on her face. She felt more refreshed than she had in months. Getting out of bed to shower and dress, she kept telling herself it was because the plans for Bliss were going so well. While that was true, a small part of her admitted it was because of Gray. Sitting at the breakfast table sipping her coffee, she could admit that she had had a crush on him since she was thirteen.
Before then he had just been the Livingston’s grandson who came every summer to learn the business. But between one summer and the next he’d changed. His body had developed muscles, his voice deepened, and he’d grown four inches taller. She hadn’t been the only one to notice. There always seemed to be girls about the house. Although they’d used the excuse of visiting with his female cousins who were often there, it had been plain they came to see Gray.
However, she was not about to delude herself into believing that Gray was being anything more than nice. She’d never had time for many friendships. It was interesting that the loss of her job caused her friendships to deepen with Brooke and Lorraine, while also renewing her acquaintance with Gray. Proof that you never knew where a blessing would come from.