Lovers Like Us

by Mary Campisi

Gag. Now she sounded like one of those Annabelle Grace greeting cards he’d seen when he picked up a card for Helena. Was it necessary to spill your guts and other organs to prove you cared about a person? Who wrote those things anyway? Helena’s would be sweet not nauseating, and one of these days she’d share one with him. And if they were really lucky, one of these days she’d sell some because they could use the cash.

  “Tate, dear, have a seat and fix yourself a plate.” Rose Donovan smiled at the guy, her cheeks bursting with color, voice soft as melted butter on biscuits. “I know how much you like my fried chicken.”

  Alexander’s silver eyes sparkled. “One of my favorite dishes, Rose.” He patted his flat belly, smiled. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.” He paused, and the smile stretched across his face. “And the blueberry coffee cake I thought I smelled this morning.”

  He thought he smelled blueberry coffee cake this morning? How could that be? Was the guy staying here? Impossible. Tate Alexander lived in mansions, not run-down houses with questionable heating systems and low-end appliances. And how did the guy know about his mother’s famous fried chicken unless he’d sampled it a time or two? Luke sucked in a breath, forced his voice to remain calm as he shot a glance at Charlotte’s husband. “What were you doing here this morning?”

  The guy didn’t have time to respond because Charlotte stepped in. “We live here.” Pause, and then, “Until our house is built.”

  “Really?” Luke rubbed his jaw, narrowed his gaze on the man who’d annoyed him since he’d seen him driving around town in a new sporty Mercedes. “Well, isn’t that interesting? Why can’t you live in your mansion or rent out a block? Or travel to the next city? Why can’t you live anywhere but here?”

  The man’s face turned three shades of red. “I...” More red bursting on that too-perfect face, smothering his good looks.

  “Stop it, Luke,” Charlotte spat out, like she was going to protect the guy. “Can’t you see this is an uncomfortable situation for him? Do you think maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it?” Her lips thinned, those green eyes burned into him. “No, of course not, because you still think it’s only about you. Well, it’s not. Other people get hurt, too, and you’d better take a crash course in sensitivity or you’re going to be spending a lot of nights on the couch.”

  “Hey, what did I do?” What the hell had just happened? Rogan shook his head, turned back to his plate, muttering something about family. “Will somebody tell me what I did?” Luke set down his fork, looked around the table. “Somebody? Anybody?”

  He did not expect Helena to be the one to speak up and the fact that she did made him wish he’d kept his mouth shut and just shook the damn guy’s hand. Period.

  “You embarrassed your brother-in-law,” she said. “It’s obvious there’s a reason he’s not living in a family residence or somewhere else.” Her voice gentled as she met Tate Alexander’s guarded stare. “Whatever the reason, it’s private and should be respected.”

  Now Helena was sticking up for the guy? “I just asked a question and in this family, that’s what we do.” He scowled at his sister’s husband. “No sugarcoating, no worrying about bruising an ego or tiptoeing around feelings. If the rules of engagement have changed, then let me know.”

  “Why do you have to be like that?” Charlotte glared at him, clutched her husband’s arm.

  “He didn’t mean anything by it.” This from the injured party himself spoken in a low voice stuffed with culture and class. “We’re staying here because I’ve had a falling-out with my father. Part business—” he glanced at Charlotte “—mostly personal. We could move in with Camille, but her situation is tenuous and... Honestly, this place makes me feel like I belong to a family. I’ve never known that before and I didn’t want to give it up.”

  “Nor should you,” Rose Donovan said from her place at the head of the table. “We can all coexist.” She shot a sharp glance at Luke. “Tate defended your sister against his father, if you must know, and that’s what caused the falling-out.”

  Talk about feeling like a jerk. Luke cleared his throat. “Guess I overreacted.”

  “Again,” Rogan mumbled, loud enough for Luke to hear him. And then, “So, Helena, this is what dinner at the Donovans’ looks like. Aren’t you glad you joined the family?”

  Chapter 5

  “So, what do you think of Helena?”

  When Charlotte asked questions like that, it meant she’d already done her analysis and wanted to see if he agreed. Of course, Tate’s bride wouldn’t come right out and admit it or offer up her thoughts. She preferred to test him and while he’d like to believe they were at a point in their relationship where she could trust him to tell her the truth, it wasn’t about that at all. Charlotte enjoyed the cerebral challenge and the occasional sparring that came with their discussions, especially when they didn’t agree.

  And because they were still living in Rose Donovan’s house and sleeping in Charlotte’s old room with the paper-thin walls, most of their discussions took place at night. In the dark. Naked. Who could argue with that? In fact, who cared about arguing at all when there was a naked woman snuggling against him, all warm and cozy, her curious fingers exploring his body?

  If only she would learn that controversial discussions belonged in a neutral location with clothes on and bodies not touching—like a coffee shop or a restaurant. Hell, he’d even agree to his office if it meant keeping possible disagreements out of the bedroom. But no. When his wife was ready to talk, she was ready, and no amount of coaxing or soft persuasion would get her to stall until morning. Tate let out a long sigh, sifted her hair through his fingers.

  “Why the sigh?”

  She lifted her head, squinted at him in the semi-darkness. At least there was a nightlight to illuminate a path to the door. There hadn’t been one when he’d first moved in and he’d tripped over Charlotte’s discarded items—shoes, jeans, a handbag—since she didn’t believe in drawers or a closet. When he’d landed on the floor in pitch blackness, he let out a string of curses that woke Rose. That’s when the nightlight appeared. It would have made more sense for Charlotte to pick up the trail she left on the floor, but logic and his wife didn’t always see eye to eye. “I was just thinking that when we move into the new house, you’re going to have two walk-in closets and I bet you won’t use either of them.”

  It was her turn to sigh. “Probably not, but if you start harping on me, you’ll be sleeping in there.”

  He chuckled. If he were sleeping in the closet, she’d be right beside him and she knew it. Didn’t she tell him every night that she loved sleeping next to him, loved the sound of his breathing, the feel of his skin against hers? But if she wanted to believe she’d boot him to the closet, fine, let her believe it. “Right.”

  She leaned up, nibbled his ear. “I am such a liar, aren’t I?”

  Tate smiled into the darkness. “Yup.” More nibbling followed by a stroke of her tongue along his neck. Tate sucked in a breath. “If you want to talk about your new sister-in-law, you better put that tongue on pause or we won’t be talking until tomorrow.”

  Charlotte lifted her head. “I was only—”

  “Distracting me?” he said in a low voice. “Driving me wild? Making me forget what little brain capacity I have left when you’re around?”

  “Keep talking.”

  She definitely liked to hear about the power and the control she had over him, but it was no different for her, which was why they were a perfect match. If he got his thoughts out fast, they could pick up where they left off with more touching and a lot more stroking. “I thought she was nice.”

  “She did seem nice enough. Pretty. A bit shy. Nothing like I would ever imagine Luke being attracted to and certainly not someone he’d marry.” Charlotte’s tone shifted with suspicion. “Don’t forget that she’s pregnant. A pregnancy always factors in when there’s a hasty wedding.”

  He worked up a smile, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “So, if
I’d gotten you pregnant, would we have run to the altar and saved ourselves a lot of grief?”

  He didn’t miss the double huff. “Not necessarily. The problems would have been there whether we were married or not, and that’s what I’m wondering about those two. They’ve only known each other a few months and there’s no way she doesn’t have a history or a past. Doesn’t it make you wonder how she ended up with someone like Luke?” Big sigh. “I love my brother, but he was never marriage material. Heck, he wasn’t even boyfriend material and he didn’t want to be. Luke was the kind of guy who could create an explosion just by looking at you, but he wasn’t the staying kind.” She stroked his cheek, her voice soft. “Kind of like you.”

  Like him? Was she serious? He was nothing like Luke Donovan: not the style, the delivery, or the sentiment. From the stories Tate had heard, when Donovan was through with a woman, he was through. No sweet send-off, no gifts, nothing but unreturned phone calls. How could Charlotte think he and her brother had anything in common? It was an insult and if he were the type to let his feelings get hurt, then he’d have to admit that hearing his wife make comparisons like that did hurt his feelings. “Your brother and I are nothing alike.”

  Charlotte inched closer to place the softest kiss on his lips. “You’re not like that anymore. And I know you’re always kind and considerate and you’re not heartless or cruel, but you did break a lot of hearts and that’s what I meant.” Another kiss, this one deeper.

  “Maybe your brother’s a changed man,” Tate murmured against her lips. “Maybe this one’s made him a better man… Like you made me. Worthy, committed, husband material.”

  “Maybe. But there’s something about her that doesn’t feel right. People only see the harsh side of Luke but he’s not that way. He’s sensitive and he does care but he’s afraid to show it. If he really loves her, I want to make sure she loves him, too, and didn’t just marry him because they’re going to have a baby. Do you know how terrible it would be if he gave his heart to somebody who didn’t feel the same way? Somebody who wasn’t committed to him like he was to her?”

  Oh, yes, he knew all about it because that had been his life before Charlotte admitted she loved him. The pain of the memory still lived in his heart, still tormented his soul now and again. “Trust me, I know all about it.”

  “I love you, Tate Alexander, and I’m never going to hurt you like that again. We just have to make sure Luke’s wife isn’t going to hurt him either.”

  Carter Alexander possessed book intelligence and charm with a way about him that told a woman he knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it—no matter the cost or the inconvenience. While that might be true in varying degrees, it was also true that when he created a mess—and he always created a mess—Harrison was the one he called to clean it up. There was always a sad story, always a reason another person was to blame, and there was always a woman involved. Why couldn’t Carter be satisfied with Camille? The woman was too damn smart for him, too clever, too intelligent.

  And now she planned to divorce him.

  Harrison could see where news that her husband had gotten his current girlfriend pregnant might cause concern and perhaps in a moment of haste and emotion, elicit divorce papers. But Alexanders did not get divorces, and Harrison refused to sit by and watch Carter and Camille become the first casualties. It wasn’t that he necessarily believed in the sanctity of marriage because he’d broken his vows more than once; it was the Alexander name that must remain stronger and mightier than any other in the area. Divorce would weaken it and that possibility was unacceptable.

  He’d summoned his brother this afternoon to discuss the matter of Carter’s pregnant girlfriend. No doubt, Harrison would have to step in again and take care of things just as he’d done before. This time, however, Carter would not slink away unscathed with nothing more than a feeble promise to make better choices. No, this time his younger brother would feel the pain and repercussions of his actions and if they were deep and harsh enough, Carter might finally learn his lesson.

  Or not.

  The sharp rap on the library door came seconds before Carter entered with a “Thanks for taking the time to see me.”

  Harrison stood, eyed the man who’d bedded enough women to fill a movie theater and for a few seconds, had loved them all. Only a fool would admit to such nonsense or a person who wanted to excuse his behavior and bury all manner of guilt. “You look terrible. Were you up all night worrying about this meeting or have you finally realized you’re about to lose the best thing that ever happened to you?”

  Carter shrugged, shook Harrison’s hand, and slid onto the couch. “It’s a damn mess and I’ll be glad when it’s over.” He rifled a hand through his perfect hair, frowned. “She really thinks she’s got the upper hand this time. Like she can tell me what to do and I’m going to listen.” Laughter spilled from his full lips. “Those days are over, and I can’t wait to be rid of her.”

  There was no need to identify the she in the conversation because they both knew he was referring to his wife, the woman he’d married to defy the Alexander-Donovan feud. For a man who’d never known struggle or disappointment, he was bound to fail sooner or later, and when the fail came, it would be monumental. “I heard about your pregnant girlfriend. How old is she? Twenty-one? Twenty-two?”

  Swirls of pink crept up Carter’s neck, colored his tanned cheeks. “Twenty-three next month.”

  “Ah, twenty-three.” Harrison poured them both a whiskey, handed a glass to his brother and said, “Drink up, you’re going to need it.” The pink on his brother’s face inched to his ears, deepened.

  “Look, I know what you’re going to say but I deserve to be happy and I’m not going to miss out.”

  Harrison should never have helped him the first time he got a girl in trouble. He should have forced Carter to face the consequences of his recklessness. Maybe his brother thought those dimples would get him out of a paternity suit and child support until the kid was eighteen, but most judges didn’t think that way; the one in Reunion Gap certainly didn’t.

  But Carter had still been in college with the whole world ahead of him and while he’d deserved to clean up his own mess, Harrison had stepped in and taken care of it. Just this once, he’d told his brother. I’m not going to do it again, so you better think before you unzip your pants. But it hadn’t been just once. There’d been other times, other problems, and Harrison had always taken care of it. His father said that’s what family did, and his mother had agreed. It was his mother who begged him to save his little brother. A child will ruin his whole life. You can’t let this happen. You have to help him. Please. Please. You can make things right, Harrison. Her requests continued over the years, each time killing another piece of the goodness that still lived in him until his father snuffed out the last shreds of decency with his final words. You must do whatever is necessary to protect our family. Do you understand? Whatever is necessary. One last breath that ended with That’s what families do.

  Years and too many regrets later, he’d learned that families did not compromise themselves or their principles, families cared about one another, loved one another. Of course, the realization was too stark, too impossible to acknowledge or accept. The only choice Harrison had was to fight it and bury the truths so deep in his soul he’d never find them.

  And that’s exactly what he did.

  Now he’d been left with another problem that was no different from the first one his brother created too many years ago. But this time the outcome would be different because Carter would learn the pain of his actions. Harrison sipped his whiskey, said in a quiet voice, “Tell me about your plans.” Gathering information and determining the other person’s agenda before offering a solution was a solid strategy. It provided an edge and Harrison knew all about leveraging to his advantage.

  Carter shrugged. “We haven’t really talked about it. Get the divorce first, have the baby, find a place to live.” He eyed Harrison, worked up a sm
ile. “There’s a lot on the outside of town not far from where Tate’s planning to build. I’m thinking about buying it. Only problem is, I’m a little short on cash and with the divorce, it’s not looking like I’m going to have much capital before the settlement. I was hoping you might give me a loan.” Pause, a deeper smile, this one pulling out those damnable dimples his brother favored. “Just until the settlement goes through, then I’ll pay you back.”

  Of course, Carter wanted a loan and of course he thought Harrison would give him one. Why wouldn’t he when he’d bailed his brother out for years? The man still owed him for the last two loans he’d given him. There’d be no mention of that because Carter probably didn’t even remember. No, his only concern was his latest predicament. “You’re looking at a lot near Tate.” His son had married the Donovan girl and now he planned to build her a house and live happily ever after. They’d have a few children and he heard there was even a dog. Tate thought he loved her and maybe he did, but was that really the point? Love could only take a person so far. It was breeding and manners that mattered.

  But even as he thought this, he knew his objection to Charlotte Donovan had nothing to do with breeding or manners. No, it was so much deeper than that. Charlotte Donovan reminded him of her mother and that was the real issue. He could not look at Rose’s daughter without remembering what he and her mother had shared or the man who’d stolen that happiness. Rose might be angry with Harrison and had even threatened him, but they were only words. She would never harm him and one day she’d realize why. That’s when she would have to admit she still cared about him, had always cared. But that would come later because right now he had a wayward brother to deal with and a relationship to end.

  “I can’t help you, Carter. You made this mess and you’re going to have to clean it up.”

  “I didn’t really make this mess on my own; it just sort of happened.” He made a sour face like he used to when he was a boy and got caught wearing their father’s aftershave. The denials had been strong back then, too, even though he’d drenched himself in the stuff. “It all just landed on me and before I knew it, she was pregnant, and I was getting handed divorce papers… I didn’t really want that but nobody’s going to tell me what to do. She doesn’t own me.”