by Kay Stockham
*The Tulanes of Tennessee
*The Tulanes of Tennessee
Shelby sucked in a sharp breath
“I’m…pregnant.”
Luke stared at her bent head, at the red blotches on her skin and the pulse fluttering rapidly at her throat.
He could only imagine what she was thinking, the surge of panic she probably felt at the shock of it. If his heart pounded any harder in his chest, it was going to burst through his skin.
But his brain was already working, trying to figure out a way to get her to understand he’d meant what he said. They were in this together and no way was she going to deny him his child.
“No, Shelby. We’re pregnant.”
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for picking up book three of THE TULANES OF TENNESSEE series. Each story stands alone, so no worries about following along. But if you’re interested in Luke’s other siblings, be sure to check out Another Man’s Baby (Harlequin Superromance #1477) and His Son’s Teacher (Harlequin Superromance #1502), and don’t forget that Ethan and Alexandra’s stories are coming soon.
I’ve had so much fun with this series. I’ve been able to develop my fictional town of Beauty, Tennessee, and I’ve gotten to know my characters with every scene. But just when I think I have them pegged, something jumps out to surprise me. Some of the things are happy, some sad, some funny and all are true to life. It’s amazing how life, and stories, work that way, eh? We never know what’s going to happen.
I absolutely love to hear from my readers, and I hope you’ll write to me at P.O. Box 232, Minford, OH 45653, e-mail me at [email protected], visit my cyber home at www.kaystockham.com or friend me on Myspace at www.myspace.com/kaystockham. I host weekly contests as well as Launch Party Scavenger Hunts through the pages of my books, post book videos, excerpts, blogs and lots more. Come join the fun and keep me company. I’d love to get to know you better.
God bless,
Kay Stockham
HER BEST FRIEND’S BROTHER
Kay Stockham
TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON
AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG
STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID
PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kay Stockham has always wanted to be a writer, ever since she copied the pictures out of a Charlie Brown book and rewrote the story because she didn’t like the plot. Formerly a secretary/office manager for a large commercial real estate development company, she’s now a full-time writer and stay-at-home mom who firmly believes being a mom/wife/homemaker is the hardest job of all. Happily married for over fifteen years and the somewhat frazzled mother of two, she’s sold ten books to Harlequin Superromance. Her first release, Montana Secrets, hit the Waldenbooks bestseller list and was chosen as a Holt Medallion finalist for Best First Book. Kay has garnered praise from reviewers for her emotional, heart-wrenching stories and looks forward to a long career writing a genre she loves.
Books by Kay Stockham
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
1307—MONTANA SECRETS
1347—MAN WITH A PAST
1395—MONTANA SKIES
1424—HIS PERFECT WOMAN
1453—A CHRISTMAS TO REMEMBER
1477—ANOTHER MAN’S BABY*
1502—HIS SON’S TEACHER*
This book is dedicated to my wonderful editor
Wanda Ottewell.
You have no idea how much it means
to know you “get” my characters.
It’s a pleasure working with you!
To a hero in the making, C, for helping me
with the gaming industry research, and being
so patient all the times I told you to play it again.
And again. I may be a little biased,
but I think you’re very cool.
And to all the computer geeks who make the
world go round.
Where would we be without you?
(Chad, Ryan, Justin—this is for you! Thank you
for being my heroes when I battle my computers
and the computers almost win. You keep me
from throwing them out the window.)
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER ONE
TOSSING ONE’S COOKIES on gorgeous Italian leather shoes had a funny way of ruining a girl’s day.
Shelby Brookes gasped for air and glared at the offending footwear, glad she knew better than to spend her hard-earned cash on overpriced shoes that wore the same as the regular-priced ones. But Luke Tulane had been raised with the best of everything and he obviously didn’t realize no woman liked seeing a man wearing better shoes than she owned herself. “Sorry.”
The word came out as a gasp. A choked oh, please, not again groan of undisguised misery as her stomach muscles flip-flopped like circus clowns on a trampoline. This could not be happening.
“Bad day?”
Her head whirled, and the ground jiggled in strange, wavy patterns, but the anger in his tone registered. The whydidn’t-you-just-pick-up-the-freaking-phone-and-return-my-messages-the-five-times-I-called-you snap of a bruised male ego.
Can you blame him?
Shelby swallowed and tried to hold on to what was left of her lunch. Luke had flown home to Beauty, Tennessee, to attend the first family wedding back in June when his older brother, Garret, married Darcy Rhodes. Now it was nearing the end of August and Luke was home again, this time because his twin brother, Nick, had found love with Jennifer Rose.
But instead of avoiding Shelby like any normal person would do in such an awkward situation, Luke had repeatedly sought her out—because of what had taken place between them behind the scenes after Garret and Darcy’s rehearsal dinner.
You brought this on yourself, you know. You kissed him, not the other way around. You weren’t complaining then.
Maybe not, but she still regretted it. Didn’t that count for something?
She’d tried to do the right thing by keeping her distance. It was after the fact, sure, but she’d tried. Yet here Luke stood toe-to-knee, and there was no ducking him now.
I puked on your shoes. Your shoes! Haven’t you had enough?
“Last night catch up to you?”
Oh, of all the—Even though she’d felt like she could’ve used the fortification, she hadn’t had a single drink last night, knowing her twelve-hour shift would be hard enough to handle given the huge possibility she’d run into Luke. Besides, she rarely drank, having seen how alcohol influenced her mother’s behavior. Following in Pat Taylor-Brooke’s footsteps wasn’t Shelby’s idea of a good time. It was bad enough her mother gave the town gossips so much fodder, Shelby wasn’t about to add to it.
You mean like now?
She didn’t raise her head, not when the slightest movement made the waves of nausea buffeting her that much worse.
How much worse could it be? You’re on your hands and knees at the man’s feet!
Yeah, well, if embarrassment killed, she would’ve been dead a long time ago. Growing up with a mother who played the drama queen to the hilt at every
opportunity would have seen to that.
“Come on, I’ll help you inside.”
Inside? To gossip central? No, thank you. “G-go away.”
“Shelby, I can’t leave you here like this.”
He had to. She didn’t want him laughing at her misery because he was angry with her. And why wouldn’t he be when she was so upset with herself? How could she have been so stupid? Shagging her best friend’s brother? That ranked right up there with—with—well, she didn’t quite know what but it was huge! “Contagious.”
She had no idea if she was contagious or not, but she’d tell Luke she had the bubonic plague before she’d allow him to drag her anywhere, much less into the wedding reception. The wind created by the gossips’ mouths flapping would blow the roof off the building.
Shelby inhaled and got a noseful of roses and wild onions from the woods nearby. Oh, help me. The smell had her stomach rolling again and she struggled to hold back a moan.
A white silk handkerchief appeared before her eyes. “Here. Take it.”
When she didn’t, Luke released a long-suffering sigh, a noise she’d heard him issue many, many times over the years. Usually it was in respect to his sister and her best friend, Alex, though. Not her.
“Quit being so stubborn. Take it.”
Since cleaning up boiled down to using either the handkerchief, her shirt or the country club’s crested employee jacket, she let go of her death grip on the manicured lawn and accepted the pristine material, finding perverse pleasure at wiping her mouth on the length.
Cheese curls and silk—what a combination.
Another wave of nausea flooded her at the thought of her favorite snack and Shelby clamped her mouth shut, afraid she’d embarrass herself even more than she already had.
“I’ll go get Ethan.”
“No.” She so didn’t need his doctor brother witnessing this, prayed to disappear. Where was a sinkhole when a girl needed one? “I’m f-fine.”
Oh, what a whopper that was. Her arms hurt from holding herself up, she felt weak and battered, yet all she could see in her mind was how hot geeky-sexy Luke Tulane had looked naked.
You are so screwed up.
“Somehow I don’t believe you.”
Shelby scrambled for a comeback and called herself lame when nothing came to mind. “Something’s been going around. A twenty-four-hour thing.”
“Shelby—”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t make a fuss. Mr. Long is watching me like a hawk.” Or a buzzard. Which one had the long beak of a nose? Focus. “It took me three interviews—” oh, those onions smelled awful! “—to get this job.”
And she knew why she’d succeeded. Luke’s parents and grandmother had gone to bat for her. There was no other explanation.
And you repaid them how?
She ignored the snippy voice in her head shaming her for jumping Luke’s bones, and concentrated on feeling better. “I can’t lose it.” Mr. Long was a fountain of restaurant managerial experience, something she needed to soak in like a sponge. Getting fired was not an option.
Luke squatted beside her, well out of range, and placed his hand on her back. “What can I do? Would you like something to drink?”
She nodded, willing to agree to just about anything to get him away from her. That night in June she’d considered Luke the perfect person to distract her from her horrendous day. But now what she needed was someone who’d distract him. “A soda.”
“You shouldn’t drink that stuff. It’s not healthy.”
Shelby rolled her eyes and regretted the movement because of the pain it caused in her pounding head. He’d told her that more than once but she happened to like caffeine and sugar. “It settles my stomach.”
The air from his gusty sigh cooled the sweat on her neck. “I hate leaving you here. The least I can do is help you to a—”
“Don’t touch me!” Weren’t his shoes enough? “Luke, just go.” She sounded desperate, close to pleading. What woman wanted to do this in front of—
An amazing one-night stand?
Uncomfortable, I-can’t-believe-we-did-that memories filled her head, but thankfully her order to leave had worked, because Luke’s footsteps faded. Feeling better now that she was alone, Shelby lifted her head and watched as Luke disappeared around a statue. When he was out of sight, she slowly pushed herself upright and sat back on her heels.
The boxwood hedges provided a nice shield from prying eyes, but how long would it be before someone came for a stroll? The gazebo in the center of the garden had been a trysting place for more than a few couples over the years. Rumor even had it Luke’s grandmother, Rosetta Tulane, had conceived one of her children there.
Imagining a younger version of Luke’s spunky grandmother getting it on in a public place brought a smile to Shelby’s lips. Seconds passed, and little by little she felt more human. Until she spied her uniform pants. “No! Oh, no. Oh, crap!”
They were ruined! Why on earth would anyone choose white linen as the required uniform for the working class?
Because hugging the grass and hurling isn’t in your job description?
Shelby groaned and ignored the quivering inside her body. She grabbed her purse and shoved herself onto her wobbly legs, moving like a hundred-twenty-eight-year-old woman instead of a twenty-eight-year-old one, which gave her plenty of time to take in the bright green stains decorating both knees. “Fifty bucks down the drain.”
Maybe she could have the pants altered and convince Mr. Long to let her wear them as elegant summer shorts. Hearing his clipped, British refusal in her head, she brushed the grass blades sticking so stubbornly to her clothing and waited for the world to stop spinning. She couldn’t worry about her pants now. She had to get out of here before Luke came back and things got…sticky.
They were hot and sticky that night and you didn’t seem to mind.
Shut. Up.
She’d walked that embarrassingly painful mental path every day since they’d slept together, asked herself why. Why hadn’t she gone home and worked out her upset and frustration by baking? Why hadn’t she done something constructive that would have helped her meet her goal? Why had she made such a horrendous mistake with her best friend’s brother? Why, why, why?
Because you liked it, her mind taunted. You really liked it.
Her entire body flushed with heat. Yeah, she’d liked it—until it was over and the consequences of her actions had walloped her a good one upside the head. Alex would be beside herself if she found out. She was most protective of Luke, closer to him because of the divide that had developed between Luke and Nick growing up. But while Luke might have updated his geeky glasses to the kind worn by business studs photographed for magazine ads and lost the boring shirts his mother had always bought for him, Luke was still Alex’s favorite brother because Alex claimed he was more sensitive than the rest, more caring and astute than the siblings Alex sometimes referred to as blockheads.
Shelby stumbled across the rear grounds of the club, trying ineffectively to shove the memory of doing Alex’s favorite brother from her mind. It was over. Done. A mistake that would not be repeated. It was past time to stop worrying about something she couldn’t change and put the incident behind her. She couldn’t let what happened cloud her thinking—or make her so nervous she got sick. As soon as she got home she’d…call Luke and apologize? Swear him to secrecy? Beg him to keep his distance?
All of the above?
Shelby made her way to a pea-gravel path, her heels sinking with every step. It would have been a lot quicker to walk through the country club, but with that route she chanced running into Luke or Alex or, worse yet, Mr. Long. Throwing up at home was bad enough, but in public wearing full makeup?
Her foundation was probably gone, her eyes raccooned. Plus her stomach was still rolling like a fun-park coaster.
“Just keep moving.” The thought of Luke behind her, closing in and demanding to talk to her now made her put one foot in front of the other. She did
n’t want a scene, couldn’t risk someone overhearing Luke demanding answers for her behavior or her having to tell him she’d do anything to take it all back. The night had been wonderful. Perfect. But the fact that she’d done it all with Luke bit the big one.
Shelby rounded the corner of the club and continued downhill to the employee parking lot. She’d almost made it to her car when her three-inch heel skidded on a rock. “Ow! Oh, ow.” Just what she needed. What else was going to happen?
She hobbled the rest of the way and fell inside the vehicle, absurdly thankful that the pain helped clear her head. Hurry. She had to hurry. She’d practically lived with the Tulanes growing up. If they found out she’d kissed Luke in places his mama hadn’t seen for nearly thirty years, nothing would ever be the same.
Shelby fastened her seat belt and took the exit farthest from the clubhouse, checking her rearview mirror for any sight of Luke’s tall form and rubbing at the mascara smeared down her cheek.
All she wanted to do was go home, get out of her icky clothes, take a quick shower and—strangely enough—eat more cheese curls.
LUKE SHOOK HIS HEAD with a tight smile as another person tried to halt his progress from the bar. Every second he was away from Shelby, his impatience ratchetted up another notch. It wasn’t every day the four-time winner of Beauty’s Mountain Queen Pageant was so…accessible. Or vulnerable. And given her avoidance of him, he wasn’t above taking advantage of it. Especially when coming home always made him feel like an unwelcome relation who had to be tolerated because he was family.
He shouldn’t have left Shelby. What if she felt worse? Passed out? Escaped? Luke muttered under his breath. Knowing Shelby, anything was possible, but he’d be ticked if she slipped away again.