Echo Lake

by Carla Neggers

  It was the aftermath of coming so close to falling in love with Brody Hancock.

  All there was to it.

  She left her bowl in the sink, tossed her chocolate wrappers and went to the back bedroom where Phoebe had brought dresses she’d discovered in a hidden attic room at the library late last summer. Most were copies of gowns from Hollywood movies from the 1930s through the 1960s. Phoebe had discovered the Edwardian gown in the collection and had worn it to the costume ball where she’d met Noah.

  Never mind reading another of Phoebe’s musty books, Heather thought.

  She would try on Hollywood dresses.

  * * *

  An hour into her marathon of trying on dresses, Heather heard footsteps on the front porch. She assumed it was one of her brothers and pulled open the door, only to discover Brody standing on the front porch. He was wearing his suede jacket, unbuttoned over a navy blue sweater and jeans, and scuffed boots. He looked her up and down, biting on his lower lip, not saying a word.

  Well, what was there to say?

  She could have picked a sleek, sexy dress Grace Kelly or Audrey Hepburn had worn in one of their movies, but no. Oh, no. She’d decided to have a little fun and had slipped into a copy of the dress Billie Burke wore as Glinda, the Good Witch in The Wizard of Oz.

  “Where’s your magic wand?” Brody asked finally, his mouth twitching with humor.

  “It’s here somewhere.”

  “I knew there had to be one.”

  “There’s no hat, though. I looked. Just the magic wand.” She pointed to her shoulders. “And the wings. I’m not sure what they’re all about. Do you remember Glinda having wings?”

  “Ah...no.”

  “I didn’t, either.” She opened the door wider. “Would you like to come in?”

  “No Munchkins and Flying Monkeys?”

  “Nary a one.”

  “Then I’ll chance it.”

  Brody entered the small house, and Heather shut the door behind him. From her Sloan & Sons T-shirts to Glinda. There had to be a middle ground, but apparently not tonight.

  “Do I want to know why you’re wearing a dress out of The Wizard of Oz?”

  “Because the dresses from Gone with the Wind are too small.”

  “That’s a reason.”

  “And it’s funny. Me as Glinda. Don’t you think that’s funny?”

  “Funny isn’t one of the words on the tip of my tongue, no.”

  “The woman who sewed the dresses used to work at the library. She left Knights Bridge for Hollywood ages ago. She’s coming back in the spring. She and Ruby and Ava O’Dunn are cooking up stuff. I think Samantha’s involved now, too, and probably Maggie.”

  “I see.”

  He obviously didn’t, but Heather was breathless. “How was Florida?”

  “Warm and sunny, as you predicted.”

  “Well, welcome back. I should change back into my jeans and sweatshirt. The dress is old, and the seams and zipper aren’t guaranteed to hold. Then I’d be in a mess, wouldn’t I? Not that I’m worried. You’ve dealt with worse messes as a DSS agent than a Good Witch dress coming apart...” What was she saying? She glanced around the small living room, the love seat and chairs piled with dresses. “I need to find that magic wand so I can shut myself up.”

  “Heather.”

  “It itches, too. The dress, I mean. I don’t know about the magic wand.”

  Brody stepped closer to her. “Heather,” he said quietly.

  “I’m sorry but you have no idea what it’s like to be standing here in pink chiffon.”

  “As true a statement as I’ve ever heard.”

  She motioned with one hand toward the stairs. “I’ll only be a minute, although it’s one of those dresses that’s probably easier to get on than to get off...” She caught herself. “Never mind. I’ll just go now.”

  She started up the stairs but tripped on the hem of her gown. Brody was there, grabbing her by the waist before she could hit the steps.

  “It’s yards and yards of chiffon,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve worn a long dress since I was a bridesmaid for Brandon and Maggie’s wedding. I do wear dresses, though. And I know how to use a needle and thread. My grandmother and mother taught me how to sew quilts.”

  She didn’t know if he heard a word she said. He had her off her feet and up the stairs before she could take a breath and babble some more. Why couldn’t he have warned her he was back in town? Why had he surprised her? It wasn’t just that he’d caught her in a ridiculous dress. She could have been eating her chocolate hearts or doing the dishes and she still would have reacted this way.

  It was being near him again, she knew.

  “I thought for sure you’d come to your senses and not come back,” she whispered when he set her on the floor at the top of the stairs.

  “I came to my senses and did come back.” He touched a knuckle to her cheek. “I missed you.”

  She found herself glancing through the open door into her bedroom, her unmade bed visible from the top of the stairs. She tore her gaze away and waved a hand. “I should get this dress off.”

  “No argument from me.”

  “Brody...” She touched her fingertips to his lips. “I missed you, too.”

  She ducked into her bedroom. He stood on the threshold, watching her as she eased off the detachable Glinda wings. He leaned against the doorjamb. “Easier putting this thing on, wasn’t it?”

  “I made a game of it.” Her fingers hadn’t been shaking then. She set the wings on a chair. “You could help with the zipper. Once you get it started, I can manage.”

  He stepped into the bedroom and walked over to her. “Will you turn me into a frog if I tear something?”

  “My magic wand is downstairs, remember?”

  “Glinda could have told Dorothy right from the start that she could click her heels together three times and go back to Kansas. I think she used her to get rid of the Wicked Witch of the West for her.”

  “Clicking her heels wouldn’t have worked if Dorothy hadn’t believed it would.”

  He lifted her hair at the nape of her neck. “She had to get the hell scared out of her a few times to really be convinced there’s no place like home.”

  Heather felt his fingers on her skin as he found the pull for the zipper. She couldn’t breathe properly with the tight-fitting bodice. She’d had to dispense with her bra to get into the thing, but she didn’t tell Brody that. “I’m not an expert on The Wizard of Oz,” she said.

  “I’m not, either. I’m just making stuff up off the top of my head to keep myself from ripping this dress off you. I don’t want you to have to explain a shredded Glinda dress to your friends.”

  At this point, Heather thought, she almost preferred explaining a torn dress than staying in it another minute—and not just because it was tight and itchy. Her skin was on fire from Brody’s touch. “It’s tedious work, I know. It’s an invisible zipper, and it’s old. I had trouble with it.”

  “I’m not having trouble with the zipper. That’s not why I’m running out of patience.” As if to prove his point, she felt the zipper slide a few inches down her back. “It’ll be easier if I unzip it all the way, don’t you think?”

  “I should warn you...”

  “You don’t have to,” he whispered. “I’ve already figured out you don’t have anything on under this damn dress.”

  “I must remember you’re very observant.”

  The zipper was down, and the bodice was off, revealing her breasts to the cold air and his gaze. The rest of the dress quickly followed, a heap of pink chiffon in the middle of the floor. Brody stepped over it, taking her in his arms. He carried her to the bed and laid her down on her back, kissing her with a gentleness she didn’t feel anywhere else in his
body as her hands skimmed down his shoulders and arms to his hips.

  “I want to make love to you,” he said between kisses, as one hand smoothed down her side, over her hip and slowly, tantalizingly, between her legs. “But I’ll leave if you want me to.”

  She eased her hands around to the front of his pants, unbuckled his belt, if not efficiently at least successfully. She managed the button next then tackled the zipper. Her pulse quickening, a thousand sensations tingling her skin, she tucked one hand inside his pants. He was hot, hard. She felt his fingers slide into her own heat, and she let her moan be her answer. She didn’t want him to leave. She wanted him to stay and make love to her.

  His clothes came off, cast onto the floor with her dress, and their mouths and tongues and teeth followed their fingers over their heated bodies, tasting, teasing, plunging them into a kind of incoherency Heather had never experienced. When he thrust into her, she knew she wouldn’t last and threw her arms over her head, giving herself up to the searing pleasure and faint pain of having him inside her, driving deep, relentless. Finally, she clasped her arms around him and let the climax take them both, until they collapsed together onto her now-warm sheets.

  It was a long time before the air felt cool again. Brody sat up, using his fingertips to push a few damp strands of her hair from her face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked softly.

  “I knew you’d figure it out.”

  “Heather...”

  “I don’t have no experience. Just not a lot of experience.” She took his hand and sat up. “I’m not fragile, Brody.”

  He smiled and kissed her on the forehead. “I noticed.”

  * * *

  They got dressed and went back downstairs. Brody helped pack away the rest of the dresses. He found Glinda’s wand. “Greg Rawlings and I could have used this two months ago. We were in a tough spot. Couldn’t click our heels together and get back home, either.”

  “That’s when Agent Rawlings was wounded?”

  Brody nodded. “He’s a good friend and a guy with regrets. A failed marriage and two teenagers he hardly knows. It’s his doing. He’d tell you that himself.”

  “Does it have to be that way with the work you do?”

  “No. We know agents—men and women both—who have solid marriages and happy family lives. That doesn’t mean there are agents who aren’t on that road.”

  “Are you on that road, Brody?”

  He kept his dark eyes on her. “If I am, I don’t have to stay on it.”

  Heather sat on the love seat. “This home leave has been a tough one, hasn’t it?”

  “It just got better.” But his humor evaporated, and he sat next to her, putting a hand on her knee. “It was a close call two months ago. It’s been intense.

  “I was looking for a distraction when Vic called with his problems.”

  “Does he know what happened to you and Agent Rawlings?”

  “Some. Not the details.”

  “Vic’s always had faith in you,” she said quietly.

  “There were times he was the only one who did, and even I didn’t understand why. He’s not perfect, but he’s a good man. He’s loyal, and he believes in people.”

  “You’re more skeptical?”

  “A lot more skeptical.”

  “Your work—this mission—it’s still intense, isn’t it?”

  “It’s unfinished,” he said.

  Heather felt her mouth go dry. She placed her hand over his on her knee. “I don’t want to be a home leave distraction, but if I am—”

  “You’re not. I’ve never felt what I’m feeling right now. It’s not going away. That much I know.”

  “Things have happened fast between us. I mean, sex before we’ve even had a candlelit dinner together.”

  “We had wine and hors d’oeuvres at Vic’s. There were candles as I recall.”

  She smiled. “So there were.” Her breath caught in her throat. “Brody...” She couldn’t finish, wasn’t sure what she meant to say. “Do what you have to do, okay? Don’t worry about me.” She made herself smile again. “I’ve got loads of people who worry about me.”

  “They want the best for you.”

  “Always. No doubt in my mind.”

  “What is the best for you, Heather?”

  “Workwise? I’d like to get into interior design. Justin is supportive. I haven’t talked to Pop about it. He hates debt, but I think he’d be fine if I can prove to him the educational expense won’t break the bank. My mother would be happy if I would learn to cook, but there’s not much hope of that.” Heather paused, realizing she’d been talking fast. She squeezed Brody’s hand. “That’s the road I’m on, but I don’t have to stay on it.”

  He got to his feet, pulling her up with him. He slid his arms around her waist and kissed her softly. “We’ll have lots of candlelit dinners together.” He stood back from her. “I need to get up to Vic’s.” He winked at her. “Trust me. Word is already out that I was here for longer than it takes to help you with the dishes.”

  “Let’s hope no one knows about my Glinda dress.”

  He was grinning as he left, and that was something, Heather thought as she put away one last dress, the sleek Audrey Hepburn dress from Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Olivia Frost had worn it to the September costume ball where Phoebe and Noah met. Heather knew there was no way she would fit into that one. But as she returned from the back room, she felt hot tears in her eyes. She’d seen the intensity building in Brody as they’d put away the dresses. It was unmistakable. Their lovemaking had been a diversion. Now he was getting back into the mind-set he needed for his return to his work.

  She might be a natural optimist, but she couldn’t fool herself. She would never regret the past few hours, but she wouldn’t be designing a house for Brody Hancock on Echo Lake anytime soon.

  * * *

  Eric and Justin were at Smith’s when Heather arrived for breakfast. Almost simultaneously they pointed to one of the two empty chairs at their table. She gave them a cheerful smile as she sat down. “Great morning, isn’t it?”

  “We know Brody Hancock’s back in town,” Eric said.

  Justin eyed her over the rim of his coffee mug. “How was your visit with him last night?”

  “How do you know?”

  “Brandon walked the dog on Thistle Lane and saw Brody’s car parked in front of Phoebe’s house.”

  “Brandon doesn’t have a dog.”

  “He doesn’t?” Justin shrugged, unrepentant. “Oh, well.”

  “To answer your question, Brody stopped by to let me know he was back in the guesthouse at Vic’s place.” She tried to ignore the rush of heat to her cheeks; tried even harder not to think about making love to Brody...the feel of him inside her. She seized her coffee when it arrived.

  “Heather,” Eric muttered. “Hell.”

  Justin pushed the cream pitcher to her. “Forget you don’t take your coffee black?”

  “One of those mornings.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

  “Brody’s coming off a high-stress, dangerous assignment, isn’t he?” Eric asked.

  Heather dumped cream into her coffee. “I’ve gathered that, yes. There was a firefight. A friend of his was shot. He’s making a full recovery. I think there are still loose ends with whatever happened.”

  “Loose ends,” Eric repeated, his jaw visibly tight.

  “You don’t want to be a diversion for a guy like that, Heather,” Justin added.

  Justin had a reputation as the bluntest of the Sloans. She usually could match his directness with her own, but this morning, she didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t any better at talking about feelings than her brothers were, and she woke up in the gray light of dawn, her sheets still tangled from last night w
ith Brody, her bed empty, and she hadn’t known what she felt.

  She didn’t know why she thought breakfast at Smith’s would help.

  Eric pulled his coffee in front of him. “We don’t want to see you here with a broken heart when Brody goes back to work.”

  “I don’t want that to happen, either,” she said. “But if it does, I’ll handle it.”

  Justin winked at her. “Good, because he’s tougher to beat up than he used to be.”

  It was a joke, but Heather saw his point. “I appreciate your concern, Justin. Yours, too, Eric.”

  “But we can butt out,” Justin said.

  She shook her head. “You can trust me.”

  “I do. I don’t trust Brody, though.”

  “It’s not because of the past,” Eric said. “It’s because of the nature of what he does. Being a DSS agent isn’t just a job for Brody. It’s who he is. You can see that the minute you meet him.”

  Justin pushed back in his chair. “For the record, Brandon didn’t see Brody’s car last night. We haven’t even talked to him. Eric and I made that up to get you talking, so don’t nail him to the wall.”

  “All you had to do is ask me about Brody.”

  Eric shook his head. “You’d have stonewalled us. We had to surprise you.” He leaned toward her, serious now. “There are a hundred guys you could see, and Justin and I wouldn’t bat an eye. Brody isn’t one of them. This isn’t a regular guy you’re falling for, Heather.”

  “I know that,” she said without any defensiveness.

  Her eldest brother got to his feet. “I’m not saying anything else on the matter, but if you ever need to talk, or a shoulder to cry on...” He grinned suddenly. “Call Maggie.”

  He tossed a few bills on the table and left. Justin nodded to the waitress, who refilled his mug. He added cream and waited for her to withdraw before he spoke. “Your work isn’t a hobby, Heather. If you want responsibility, it comes with commitment.”