by Lauren Dane
A wave of longing for her family hit her so hard she gripped the counter. They’d been such an integral part of her life, of Rennie’s life. Elise missed that connection.
Tug, tug, tug on her shirt hem. Elise looked down into blue eyes very much like her own. She couldn’t help but smile. “Momma, can we have tacos?”
Thank God for Rennie. Something to keep Elise from wallowing. She swallowed back her loneliness and nodded. “Sure thing. I got avocados for some guacamole too.”
“Wheeee!”
With a laugh, Elise began to assemble dinner, her heart a bit lighter.
5
Brody rode his bike up the driveway and turned the ignition off. When he slid his sunglasses down his nose, he watched Elise get out of her car, and smiled at all the crap she wrestled from the trunk as the kid bounced around the yard.
He saw her trash cans at the curb and thought, Why not? Hailing her with a call of her name and a smile, he took one can per hand and carried them up toward where she stood. “Can I put these somewhere for you?”
“Um. Yeah, the garage. Here.” She bent into the car and hit the garage door opener. He didn’t fail to see how flexible she was, and a brief flash of what she’d look like naked, sweaty and beneath him, flitted through his brain.
He hurried past and put the cans inside, stepping out as she closed the door again.
“Most people park in their garage.” He grinned.
“I will soon enough. Pete and Emmabeth—the couple who lived here before? They’re friends of a friend. They sold me this house on very short notice and asked if they could leave their furniture here in the garage until the fall. They went on a trip to see their kids and then to Europe.”
“Oh. I was wondering what happened to them. They were nice people. I’m glad they sold their house to another nice person.”
“Wow. You’re really good, aren’t you?”
She cocked her head, and he realized she’d relaxed around him enough to actually joke, partially even flirt. Christ, her mouth, those eyes . . . He swallowed back the tide of longing, the urge to lean down and brush his lips over the curve of her cheek.
Instead he struggled for nonchalance. “I do try.”
“Thank you for bringing my cans in. How are you feeling?”
“Much better. No soreness anymore. My brother finally went home, and he and my sister only call to check on me twice a day. The bruises on my side”—he raised his T-shirt to show her—“are all gone. They arrested the guy, by the way. The one who hit me. He confessed it to several people. They tell me he’s going to make a guilty plea and go to rehab.”
She touched his side, a quick breath of a touch, and pulled back, blushing. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to touch you. I didn’t think.”
“It’s okay. I’m pretty sure my innocence is unsullied.”
She grinned. “Oh. Well, good. Um, listen, are you hungry? I was about to make some dinner.”
The air between them charged, heated. He shoved his hands in his back pockets before he ended up reaching out to touch her like he really wanted to. By the look in her eyes, she’d have been just fine with that touch, and that drove him insane. Still, he liked that expectation in the air, liked the way it felt before either person made that first move.
There would be something between him and Elise. There was so much energy between them in the brief meetings they’d had, it would only grow the longer they knew each other. When the time was right, it would happen and he’d enjoy every single moment.
She licked her lips and he swallowed, hard, suddenly feeling like he was sixteen years old. He took a step closer and she didn’t retreat.
Just then Adrian showed up, honking his horn as he pulled up to the curb in front of Brody’s house. What timing his brother had.
He managed to bite back his groan of annoyance. “I’d love to, but my brother has apparently chosen now to stop over. Checking on me, I’d wager. It was Erin’s turn yesterday. You know how family can be. I’m sure he hasn’t eaten yet, so . . .”
She licked her lips again and little zings of chemistry buffeted between them. He enjoyed the intensity of it, the chemical soup of their connection.
“I’m making spaghetti. It’s not like making it for two instead of four is a problem. I mean . . .” Again the blush as her pale blue eyes met his, cruised down to his lips and then away as she took a deep breath. “If you’re hungry, Rennie and I wouldn’t mind the company. We’re new to Seattle, so it’s nice to get to know our neighbors.”
Rennie scampered up and nuzzled into her mother’s side. Elise’s arm automatically went around her daughter’s shoulder, and it pleased Brody to see the easy affection there.
“Plus, we know you’re not no mad killer or nothing. The lady next door to you, the one with the dog who has all the sweaters, told us you look scary but are sweet as pie,” Rennie said.
Elise’s eyes closed again as she fought a laugh. It wasn’t like Rennie could help it; she was a blurter, much like her grandfather, Elise’s father, was. “A mad killer or anything, darling. If you’re going to insult our neighbor, let’s use proper grammar to do so.”
Brody’s ridiculously big brown eyes danced with amusement. The way his bottom lip slid against the line of his goatee made her sort of tingly. Sort of? That was a joke. The man had torched a freaking thousand-acre wildfire within her. Perhaps if she hadn’t been masturbating to Brody fantasies so much, it wouldn’t have made her all achy to just stand there near him. Pathetic.
“That’s good to hear. Mrs. Cardini, the lady with the little dog—his name is Stoney, by the way—is a good judge of character. I also think Adrian, my brother, would love a home-cooked meal. Neither one of us is much for cooking. If you’ll give me a few minutes, I’ll go grab him and be back. That is, if you’re sure it’s not an imposition.”
“No imposition at all. Go on. I’ll get started. Oh, I guess I should ask if either of you is a vegetarian. I got sausage for the sauce, but I can make it without.”
“Nope, we’re both meat eaters. Be back in a few. And thanks again, Elise.”
She pretended not to watch his ass when he walked across the street, but hello, the way his waist tapered down to such a spectacular behind, the way it all contrasted with the width of his shoulders and the powerful muscles of his thighs. The whole package was pretty stunning in that bad-boy-with-a-Harley sort of way.
Baby Jesus help her, when he pulled up his shirt, her mouth had actually watered. He had tattoos on his side and belly. His very flat and hard belly. What she could see there and on his wrist looked well thought out. Not a bunch of random stuff. What she saw seemed to have a Far Eastern influence. She wondered what he looked like under the clothes, under all of them. And not just for the tattoos either. He emanated power as he moved. Even when he stood still, the power rolled off him in waves of magnetism.
His eyes were wary and watchful, but once Elise had relaxed, he had too, and a light of amusement had come into them. No wedding ring and no women’s names on the tats she could see. And yes, she had totally looked.
In short, he was fascinatingly sexy in a way she’d never really considered before. Rough edges, but the way his voice changed when he spoke of his siblings told her a lot about what he was like inside. He cared about his brother and sister and they clearly cared for him too. A very good sign of character.
A dinner couldn’t hurt. She did want to make friends, and the neighborhood seemed rather close. And as Rennie had so helpfully pointed out, Mrs. Cardini had given him the thumbs-up after the ambulance had taken him off to the hospital. He’d brought in her groceries and now her trash cans. It was the neighborly thing to do. To thank him for his help. Her mother would want her to.
“He’s kinda cute in his own way,” Rennie observed as the two of them moved around the kitchen, pulling out what they’d need for dinner.
Elise laughed. “Sure. And he seems very nice. Why don’t you set the table, please. Then you can go out in the ba
ck to play if you want.”
Rennie finished the table and raced outside with her ball. She’d become obsessed with soccer, so they’d spent the evening before setting up a goal net in the yard.
Elise ran back to her room to freshen up. Just because she wasn’t looking for a boyfriend didn’t mean she couldn’t look nice enough to inspire some wank fantasies for Brody, did it? She touched up with a tiny bit of lip gloss and brushed her hair, only barely resisting the urge to change into a sundress or something. He’d have to live with Capri pants and a sleeveless shirt.
Just as the scent of the sauce had risen enough to make Elise’s belly growl, there was a knock on the door. She liked that he didn’t just come in. It was locked anyway, but still.
She looked out the window just to the left of the door to make sure it was them, and opened up.
“Come in,” she said, stepping back to allow both men to pass.
“I brought some wine and some sparkling water too.” Brody handed two bottles to her and turned around to the guy who had to be his brother, and holy cats, his brother was Adrian Brown. The Adrian Brown currently on her CD player.
“This is my brother, Adrian. Aid, this is Elise Sorenson, and apparently she’s already a fan.” Brody’s crooked smile put her at ease even though she knew her face was bright red.
“I . . . I’m so embarrassed! I didn’t know, and I don’t know if I should feel bad for not knowing or for having your music on and knowing you by sight. It’s not that I’ve never been around artists before.”
Adrian stepped forward and took her hand. He wasn’t as large as Brody, but was still tall. He approached slowly, wearing a sexy smile. She wondered if Brody had noticed how freaked she was before and warned his brother.
“You shouldn’t feel bad either way. Honestly. I’m flattered you like my music, and I’m really happy you invited us for dinner, especially now that I’ve smelled the sauce. Only so many bowls of cereal and take-out pizzas a guy can eat. It’s nice to meet you, Elise. I’ve been wanting to thank you for helping my brother out.” Christ, but he was charming.
“Of course I helped. I expect he’d have done the same for me. Well, come on through to the kitchen. I think I’ll have a glass of wine now.” Now that she’d babbled like an idiot.
“Where’s your little girl?” Brody asked, looking around as he took the wine bottle from her. His fingers brushed the outside of her hand, just above the thumb, and sent shivers through her.
Time slowed like honey when he met her eyes, and every cell in her body responded. She watched as if in slow motion when his lips parted and his Adam’s apple slid up and down as he swallowed.
Adrian cleared his throat, and the scrape of a chair as he pulled it away from the table brought her back to her senses.
“She’s, um, out in the backyard. She’s doing this soccer day camp thing this summer and loving it. We set up a net so she’s kicking goals over and over. Which, well, let’s be honest, is awesome for me because it runs her down and there’s no three-hour battle to get her to sleep. She’s pretty high-energy.” She paused and laughed. “That’s a nice way of saying she’s hyper.”
Both men laughed.
Brody held up the corkscrew and the bottle. “Shall I open the wine, then? Is it all right to have a glass in front of Irene? I brought the sparkling water for her if she likes it. Less sugar than soda and stuff.”
Wow, he thought of her kid. “Thank you for asking, Brody. Yes, it’s fine. I mean, I don’t get snockered in her presence or anything, but my parents are European. Drinking wine with dinner is a pretty normal thing for her to see.”
She bustled around as he watched her. The place was a surprise. He hadn’t gotten a very good look the week before when he’d brought her groceries in. He’d been so focused on her, he hadn’t really seen much of the interior.
He’d expected something either super-feminine, with lots of pink, or perhaps very cool and elegant. But the house was warm, with deep, earthy colors, art on the walls, a lot of photographs. It was comfortable, homey.
He handed her a glass of wine and she smiled, thanking him and clinking her glass against his and then Adrian’s. “A votre santé.”
“To your health,” Adrian said back, and she took a sip.
“Very nice. Perfect with the spaghetti.” She drained the noodles, pulled out the garlic bread and put them on the table. She leaned out the back door. “Rennie, time to eat. Wash those hands.”
Rennie grumbled, but scrambled quickly to obey. She returned shortly, holding her hands out for her mother to inspect.
“Fabulous. Sit now. Rennie, this is Adrian, Brody’s brother. Adrian, this is my daughter, Irene.”
“Hi there! You’re cute. Do you have any girlfriends? ’Cause Gran says Momma needs a man in her life. Then Pops says, ‘Pffft, Martine, the last thing Elise needs is a man!’ But I think my Gran is right.”
“Rennie, for tonight, let’s play the think-about-what-we-saybefore-we-say-it game.”
Adrian tried to hide his smile behind his hands as he and Brody shared a glance. “Nice to meet you, Irene. Or should I call you Rennie?”
“My mom calls me Irene when she’s mad. Irene Anne Sorenson when she’s really, really mad. But mainly everyone calls me Rennie. Everybody but Gran. Gran calls me Irene ’cause that was her mom’s name and she says it’s more than good enough for me. Mom says Gran is in a category all her own, so you’ll probably want to call me Rennie too.” Rennie grinned up at Adrian, and Brody saw that his brother was just as charmed by the Sorenson females as he was. Well, he hoped not as charmed, because Elise Sorenson was a woman he didn’t want to see his brother with. Selfish though that might be.
Brody took in the efficient way she filled her daughter’s plate and then her own. Around that, she passed platters and made sure everyone had enough of everything they needed.
He liked to look at her. She was beautiful in a way he’d never seen up close before. Big, china-blue eyes, pale skin. Probably the type to burn like mad in the sun. Her features were delicate and nearly perfect. But at the same time, despite the outward fragility, she was clearly capable. Her manner with her child was the biggest indicator. A kid like Rennie would take a lot of energy to guide, to not overprotect her but also to give enough space for that sharp little mind to grow and learn. She was a free-spirited child, but not bratty. Keeping that balance, he knew, was difficult.
The long line of Elise’s neck called to his fingers. Hard, flat muscle lay over her bones. She wasn’t bulked by any stretch of the imagination, but clearly she worked with her body. Yoga maybe?
“This is really delicious.” Brody dug in, enjoying every bite.
“Thanks. It’s a standby recipe. Easy and fast. Lots of food groups represented.” She shrugged. “So what is it you do?”
“I run Written on the Body, a tattoo shop about two miles from here. We know what Adrian does, when he’s not clearing my pantry of all food items. What about you?” He looked around and saw the partial answer to how physically fit she was. “I see from the pictures that you dance. Do you do it professionally?”
“I used to. For ten years. I’m just teaching now. I started a studio just north of downtown. I do group classes and some individualized teaching.”
“Who did you dance with?”
“The Ballet Theatre. Started in school with them when I was pretty young and landed in the company later on.”
Her voice was soft, smooth, without the snags and burrs in his own. He realized he could listen to her for hours without getting bored. The sound of her was as soothing as the sight of her. Just beautiful, elegant lines and tones.
He wanted to ask her more but wondered if there was tragedy there. Had she been injured? Just gotten too old to do it? The life of someone who danced like that on a regular basis would have to be incredibly hard on the body. What if she just wasn’t good anymore? That would suck. He didn’t know her well enough to push, so he’d let her take the lead in how much she rev
ealed.
“I don’t have any tattoos. I’ve wanted one for some years now, but never got around to doing it. Are you any good?” She leaned forward, amusement showing in the cant of her mouth.
He laughed. “I’ve been told, yes.”
Adrian interrupted, “What he’s too humble to say is that he’s one of the best tattoo artists in the country. People come from all across the States to get his ink.”
Her face lit up. “That’s wonderful. What a talented bunch you Browns are. So much artistic expression in one family.”
“I’m going to be a painter one day.”
Adrian and Brody looked to Rennie. Adrian grinned and asked, “That so? Tell me about it.”
“My momma says I have the genes to be a great artist. I like it. But I might be a soccer player too. To have something to fall back on like Pops says. It’s good to have something to fall back on.”
“Her father was a painter. She comes by it honestly. Or as honestly as it gets for her. I’m totally biased, of course, but I think she’s got an amazing eye for color.” Elise pointed to a series of small framed paintings. “Those are hers.”
Brody stood and examined them. Elise hadn’t been bragging. The lines were bold, but the explosion of colors worked well together. He’d never have guessed a child did the work. “How old are you, Rennie?”
“Six years and three months.”
He kept his face turned toward the frames so she couldn’t see his smile. “Very nice. Your mom was right.”
“She did those when she was four. My father had them framed.”
“And what do your parents do then, to have spawned such artistic talent?” Adrian asked.
“Please, have more. I made plenty.” Elise pushed the platter toward Adrian and Brody snorted. The man had to have a tapeworm to eat as much as he did and be so damned thin. Elise caught Rennie’s eye and nodded. “Yes, you can have an ice-cream sandwich and watch television. Go on.”