What else was she wrong about?
A man with a Jeep might like the country the way she did. Where the sounds filling the night would be from crickets instead of traffic. Where the aroma of freshly cut alfalfa would fill the air instead of exhaust fumes. She opened her eyes. Where stars would light the night instead of neon.
She stole a glance at Cole and gave herself a firm reality check. The man was an attorney, for Pete's sake, in a big city. If he wanted the country life, that's where he'd be. A Jeep didn't mean a thing. It was probably no more than a yuppie, macho symbol to match his image of himself. Her visions of his house shifted to one of those expensive lofts in Lodo.
"What do you dream of, fair lady?" he asked, turning to look at her, letting her know he was aware of her study of him.
The simple question nearly brought tears to her eyes. She ought to know better than to dream, but dream she did. Her parents' voices echoed down the cluttered corridors of her mind. Daydreaming again, Brenna James? Get your head out of the clouds. And beneath her father's scorn, the gentler, more soothing tones of her mother that had lately come more often to the surface. Dream, Brenna, for in dreams are the seeds of possibility. And her grandmother's words that simultaneously gave her hope and made her feel like a failure. Dream it. Then be it.
She cleared her throat and said the words out loud—words that had been alive only within her mind. "I dream of … going back to school."
Cole nodded as though he understood. "That is sometimes a big step. Hard to fit in with a job."
"Yes."
Cole grinned at her. "Hell of a thing, school. Can't wait to get out while you're there. Can't wait to go back when you're out."
She nodded, remembering the way she had hated school, always feeling like the outsider she was, forever the new kid on the block.
"What else do you dream of, Brenna?"
She shrugged, pretending nonchalance she didn't feel. "The usual things, I guess."
"Like what?"
"A nice place to live. Having interesting work."
"Working in a bar isn't interesting?" he teased.
"Hardly. It's okay, and most of the people are nice, but…"
"What would be? Interesting, that is? If you could do anything?"
She thought a moment, then gave voice to the one wish she had always cherished. "I'd collect stories." She turned in her seat and faced Cole. "You know, we don't talk to one another like they used to. Instead we watch television." She paused. "One of the things I loved about my grandparents were the great stories they told. About their experiences or repeating stories they had been told as children. My grandmother had the best stories. About things she did as a girl. About my grandpa courting her."
"An oral history," Cole said.
"That's right," Brenna agreed.
"Sounds nice."
"Yes."
"Thanks for letting me take you home," he said, reaching out and giving her hand a squeeze. "Thanks for sharing your dreams."
Warmth feathered through her as she studied him. She didn't want to like him. Yet, he touched her like he cared. His smile was genuine. Everything about him announced, You can trust me.
Could she?
"It's not easy, is it?" he asked.
"What?"
"Seeing me. Just me. Not Harvey Bates's attorney."
His perception surprised her. "No, it's not," she agreed. "Do you see me? Just me?" She was crazy for asking.
"I always have," he responded, holding her gaze a moment longer before starting the Jeep's engine.
Had John Miller told him? she wondered.
"Told me what?" Cole asked.
She cast Cole a startled glance, unaware she had spoken aloud. "Anything about … about me."
"Nothing."
Brenna didn't dare believe he really saw her. He couldn't. If he had, he wouldn't be acting as though he liked her.
"So, you work nights at Score. What keeps you busy during the day?" he asked.
"I take care of my nephew on the days my sister-in-law goes to the university."
"And the rest of the time?"
"I clean houses," she said, flashing him a look that dared him to say anything. Working as a barmaid and housekeeper were her fall-back jobs. Survival jobs. This time she was determined to do more than survive. A few more customers and she would have enough money to get into her own apartment again.
"Sounds like you don't have much time to yourself, then."
"When you've dug a hole for yourself as deep as the one I'm in, there's no other choice."
"No, I suppose not. Tell me about your nephew."
She hesitated only a moment before answering. The topic of Teddy James was almost as safe as the weather. "Teddy's great—the best four-year-old anywhere. Being able to spend time with him has been one of the few good things that's happened to me lately." She paused and watched the passing streets for a moment. "You'll want to make a left at the next light."
"Okay." Cole slowed and made the turn. "If he's like my nieces, he likes swimming and Frisbees."
Brenna smiled. "You forgot baseball."
"My nieces haven't expressed any interest in baseball." His tone was indulgent.
"That's too bad. Baseball is a good game—one girls can play just as well as boys." She worried her lip between her teeth for a moment, then asked one of the questions that had bothered her all night. "Why are you defending Zach MacKenzie?"
Cole's smile faded. "I believe him. I believe in him."
"And that's why you represented Harvey Bates?"
"Nope. I represented Bates because he was a case that I was assigned by a senior partner in the firm. I did my level best to talk him into a settlement, but he wouldn't budge." Cole slowed the Jeep. "Is this the building?"
Brenna nodded as Cole parked the car.
He shut off the ignition and turned to her. "I'll tell you anything you want to know. I just don't quite understand what you're really asking."
"I've just been thinking about Zach." She fiddled with the strap of her tote bag. "I mean, he's more like me. A guy who's in a jam. I didn't think a case like that would be of much interest to you."
"If I had stayed at Jones, Markham and Simmons, I wouldn't have had a chance to represent someone like Zach. Or you. You couldn't have afforded to hire me." Cole didn't seem to be bragging, rather just stating the obvious facts of the situation.
"And now?"
"Now I get to choose who I represent. That's one of the things I like about being on my own." Cole turned more fully toward her and stretched his arm along the back of the seat, his hand close to her hair. He touched one of the strands.
She felt the heat from his hand near her face. She longed to rest her cheek against his open palm, which proved to her just how little sense she had. Instead, she sat perfectly still to keep from acting on the urge. He moved his arms away from her and slanted her a grin.
"I always wanted to be the guy in a white hat. The one who made things better." His smile faded. "Until I went out on my own, it had been a long time since I'd felt like that."
"And you think you can help Zach?" she asked.
"Yes. I know I can."
"I'm glad. He's going to need someone…" Tough. Aggressive.
A moment later Cole prompted, "Someone?"
Brenna felt her cheeks heat as she met his gaze. "You're rather … um … intimidating, you know."
Cole laughed. "I've been told." When she looked down, he tipped her head up with his index finger. "I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am that I intimidated you. I believed you."
She imagined him repeating, I believed in you.
"I'd like to see you tomorrow," Cole said. "Dinner. A movie?"
"I don't have time," Brenna replied, oddly disappointed that she had to turn down the invitation. "I'm watching Teddy in the morning. The sky would probably fall if we missed story hour at the library. And I have a house to clean tomorrow afternoon, which I'll finish just in time to get to work at
Score tomorrow night."
Cole traced the back of his finger down the side of her face. In the wake, her skin tingled. "Another time then?"
Brenna swallowed, enjoying the promise of his invitation, hating the anticipation for things that could never be. "Another time," she agreed, believing no such thing.
Cole got out of the Jeep and walked her to the door of the apartment, taking the key from her and unlocking the door. "See you soon," he said the instant before he bent and brushed a fleeting, gossamer kiss across her lips.
* * *
Chapter 5
« ^ »
"Auntie Brennie, I don't want to wear socks," Teddy said the following morning. He dropped his brown leather sandals on the floor next to the kitchen table where Brenna sat, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. He looked up at her with beseeching blue eyes.
Privately, Brenna agreed with him. Brenna had been unable to convince her Swiss sister-in-law, Jane, that little boys in Denver, unlike little boys in Zurich, didn't necessarily wear socks with their sneakers and never with sandals.
Deciding whether Teddy should wear socks was easy compared to sorting out her feelings for Cole Cassidy. However determined she had been to put him out of her mind, her thoughts returned to him again and again—like picking at a scab that itched.
His bringing her home was the act of a decent, generous person. Nothing more. She would be a fool to read anything into that. Even if he had wanted to know what kind of car she drove and where she lived.
Yet, she had never remembered a man's touch as vividly. And his scent. It rushed back with a clarity that made her breath shorten in a response that had everything to do with hormones and nothing to do with her head. She had forgotten how warm a man's body was, and Cole's had been as inviting to her as a crackling fire on a winter day.
"Auntie Brennie, you're not listening," Teddy complained, patting her arm. He climbed into her lap and rested his forehead against hers, his expression fierce as he could make it. "Do I have to wear socks?"
Brenna dragged her thoughts away from the enticing, confusing Cole Cassidy and smiled at Teddy, crossing her eyes as she met his. He giggled. She tousled his blond hair. "Yes, you have to wear socks."
"Why?" Satisfied he had her attention, he climbed off her lap and sat down on the floor next to his sandals.
"Your mother says you have to." Brenna slid out of the chair and sat down on the floor in front of her four-year-old nephew. She took the pair of socks out of his hands. "Let me help."
Teddy sat down and stuck his foot out, and Brenna tickled the bottom of it. He laughed and snatched it back.
"See?" Brenna said. "Socks might be good for one thing. They would keep me from tickling your foot."
"Huh-uh." He stuck out his other foot. "I like it when you tickle me."
"Oh, you do, huh?" She grasped his foot and feathered her fingers across his sole, then brought his foot up to her mouth. "Mmm. Yummy foot. Too bad I've already eaten breakfast and I'm not hungry." She offered the foot to the calico cat, Penelope, who sat watching their play with haughty disdain. "Want a bite?"
Penelope blinked her golden eyes and wandered off, her tail in the air.
Brenna blew on the bottom of Teddy's foot before running her fingers over it again. He burst into peals of laughter, wriggling on the floor. She let him go and held out one of the socks.
"Aw, I was hoping you would forget." He smiled. "'Cept, you never forget, huh?"
"Not usually," Brenna agreed, putting a sock on the foot he held up. After putting on the other one, she patiently assisted as he put on his sandals and buckled the straps.
"I still think this is dumb," he said, standing.
"Then talk to your mother."
He plopped down in her lap and tipped his head up to look at her. "How 'bout you talk to her for me?"
"Nope." Brenna kissed his cheek. "This is your battle to fight, Teddy." She stood him up. "You feed Penelope, I'll do the dishes, and then we're off to the library for story hour. Okay?"
"Okay," he agreed.
She and Teddy had fallen easily into a routine since she moved in. Swimming lessons on Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons while Jane was in class. Story hour Tuesday morning and playtime in the park on Thursday.
Brenna had just started running the water into the sink when the telephone rang.
"Brenna," came her father's voice across the line when she picked up, "I thought Michael would still be home."
"Hello, sir," she responded, automatically giving him the military address he had always demanded. "He left more than an hour ago."
"You're not at work this morning?"
Familiar defensiveness rose within her. From anyone but her father, the question might have been casual. From him, there was an implied criticism. "It's my morning to watch Teddy while Jane is in class."
"And how is my grandson? Well, I trust."
Brenna's glance fell to Teddy, who was sitting on the floor, feeding Penelope pieces of cat food one by one. "He's fine. He's growing like a weed."
"Have you found some other job yet?" the Colonel asked. The last time they spoke, he had been highly critical of her working in a bar.
"I haven't been looking," she responded.
"And I don't suppose you've been looking for your own place to live, either."
"Not yet." She knew her father thought she was taking advantage of Michael's hospitality. In the three months that had passed since she had moved in with her brother, a single, overriding goal dominated her thoughts—to be independent again.
With more patience than she felt, she asked, "Was there something you needed, Dad?"
"I just wanted to let Michael know that I'll be in Denver the second week in July."
"I'll tell him," Brenna responded.
"I have his work number. I'll call and tell him," came her father's response.
"Fine." Brenna closed her eyes, hating the fact that she cared that her father made her feel small and unimportant. He wanted to let Michael know he was coming, not her. And he didn't trust her to pass along the message.
"Goodbye, Brenna," he said, severing the connection without waiting for her own farewell.
Brenna hung up the phone, staring into space a moment. She was a grown woman, but her father always made her feel about twelve—awkward and unsure.
Twenty minutes later Brenna and Teddy were on their way to the library, which included a ride on the bus, where Teddy said hello to everyone as they made their way to their seats, and a three-block walk to the library. Teddy skipped along beside her, pausing every few feet as something new caught his imagination.
"Why are there cracks in the sidewalk?" he asked.
"It's a seam where the edge of the concrete form meets another block of concrete."
"Oh." Teddy jumped over the crack. "I wonder why they don't make one long strip from there to there?" A squirrel chattered at them from a branch of a tree. "How come squirrels climb trees and rats can't? Daddy says they are both pesky rodents."
Brenna glanced at the tree above them, horrified at the thought of tree-climbing rats.
"Why do flowers smell and leaves don't?" he asked, his quick mind zipping onto a new subject.
"Some leaves smell," Brenna said. "Mint."
"Did you remember to bring The Little Engine That Could?" he asked as they climbed the steps leading to the library entrance.
"Sure did." Brenna patted the book she carried under her arm. She opened the door and followed him inside. "I've got it right here."
Teddy ran down the stairs to the children's section with his usual enthusiasm. Three other children were already gathered in the corner. Teddy sat down next to a little girl and struck up a conversation with the complete confidence of a child who had never met a stranger.
"Brenna, hi!" Nancy Jenkins called from behind the checkout counter.
"Hi," Brenna returned. "How are things down here with your ankle-biters?"
Nancy smiled. "You really shoul
d watch that kind of talk, you know. You've entered enemy territory."
Brenna grinned and gazed around the bright room with enjoyment. Nancy's assessment was more accurate than she knew: for Brenna, this was enemy territory. Even so, telling stories to the children wasn't half so scary as she had anticipated when she agreed to be a story-hour volunteer. Even more surprising was that she not only enjoyed telling the children stories, she looked forward to it.
"I found that book of train engines you asked me about," Nancy said, leading the way across the room to the corner where story hour was held.
"Good. Color photos?"
"Of course." Nancy picked up an oversize book from one of the carpet-covered cubes.
Brenna focused on the pictures, ignoring the lines of fine print that would have panicked her. "These are good. If I can just keep the kids from asking me anything more technical than 'Where's the smoke stack.'"
Nancy closed the book and set it back down. "It wouldn't matter if they did. You always know just what to say to them."
"Talking to the kids is easy," Brenna said, ignoring the compliment. She sat down. "Now adults—that's entirely different."
Nancy laughed. "My cue to leave, I think." She took a couple of steps, then turned back around. "Let me know the next time you've got a free Saturday afternoon, and we'll go to the movies."
"No Saturdays any time soon," Brenna said. "I just got a small office to clean." Their mutual love of movies had cemented the friendship after they had discovered that they were both single and both Army brats who had never spent even one full school year in one location. The bond of common experience held them together even as Brenna was sure their differences would eventually drive them apart.
"Sunday then?"
"Okay." Brenna nodded. She picked up the storybook and flipped through the pages, confident that she had thoroughly rehearsed her telling of the story.
"That's my auntie," Brenna heard Teddy say to the little girl next to him. "She's going to tell us our story today."
Brenna lifted her eyes to watch her nephew, then let her gaze wander around the room for the last few minutes she had to wait before it was time to begin. She found the bright colors of the children's library inviting. For a moment, she imagined having a job like Nancy's. Brenna discarded the idea almost the instant it surfaced. She liked kids, and she like coming to the library, but making it her vocation was beyond her imagination. Storytelling. That was something altogether different.
CASSIDY'S COURTSHIP Page 5