“About as much as a root canal,” she said, keeping her voice light. “She’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine.”
“And then you get to come back and have more sex,” Robyn reminded her. “What could be better than that?”
“Hard to think of much.”
“Hard being the operative word. Okay, I’m going to let you get going. Oh, and give Brady a kiss for me tonight,” she added. “Tell him thanks from me.”
“Thanks for what?”
“For making you sound like you do.”
Thea hung up the phone, still smiling. Give Brady a kiss? She liked the sound of that. So what if he was probably still finishing up brewing at the Lincoln School? No reason she couldn’t stop by and say hello.
No reason at all.
HE LOVED BREWING, Brady thought as he closed the hatch on the brew kettle and went back to cleaning out the mash tun. Yeah, it was a messy job but something about it appealed to the same part of him that as a kid had liked jumping in mud puddles.
And mud puddles never resulted in beer.
He loved the synchronization of it, the experiments, the hundred decisions he had to make each week that controlled whether the result was award winning or slop. Delegate, Michael said, and he’d been working some with an assistant. He couldn’t ever see himself totally giving that part of the job up, though.
When he stepped into the microbrewery, he tuned into the process. Brewing kept him focused.
As opposed to focused on Thea.
And the longing hit, as it always did. Didn’t matter that he’d seen her that morning. It had been too long, especially when he’d had to do without her during the previous weekend. His bad luck that today was a brew day, which meant he had to wait even longer to see her.
The delegating idea had its points.
Still, at that moment, working hard was probably for the best, he told himself. He needed to take it easy with Thea, with whatever was between them. For his own sanity, he needed to give her space. Give them both space.
So instead of focusing on her, he’d worry about the beer. He hooked up the snakelike tubes to transfer the wort from the brew kettle to the fermenter. After the transfer, he’d pitch the yeast and this particular batch would take care of itself for a few days. This particular batch was also his last for the time being and the process had some wiggle room. He could afford to take a break once the transfer was done, to go outside, get some fresh air. Get away from the pub, even. Not like he’d go see Thea or anything.
Yeah, right.
Grinning at himself, he straightened up from attaching the tubing. And his heart skipped a beat.
Because it was her, standing there at the entry to the brewing area, dark-eyed, a half smile on that gorgeous mouth. No warning, no call. Just her, there, coming to find him.
Coming to find him.
His pulse sped up. It was the first time he hadn’t sought her out. The first time she’d come to him by choice. That had to mean something good, didn’t it?
He walked over to her, buoyed by pleasure. “Hey there, tango lady.”
“Hey, yourself,” she said. And when he reached for her, she went immediately into his arms, drawing him into an openmouthed kiss that had his head spinning. He lingered over her, maybe longer than he should have, but it was hard to stop. Finally, though, he broke away to check on the progress of the wort transfer.
“So what brings you by here?”
“Came to see how the beer’s doing. Are you still at it?”
“Just about done.”
“What are you making?”
“A dark beer, Oktoberfest.”
“In July? I thought Oktoberfest fell in October.”
“September, actually, but it’s never too early to start Oktoberfest. Any beer that dark needs time to age.”
She considered. “Learn new things every day. What about your experiment with the raspberries?”
How could he not love a woman who remembered? “I brewed it last Friday. It’ll be ready to try out at the end of next week. If it’s good, I might brew up a whole slew of it for the opening of the theater.”
“Oh, yeah, speaking of the grand opening, can you get me into the theater at some point to see the stage? Assuming it’s done, I mean. I’d like to get a feel for it.”
He pulled her to him. “Get a feel for it?” he murmured against her lips.
She paused. “You know what I mean.”
“I can only hope. Do you want to go over?”
“Now?”
“Sure. The rewiring’s done downstairs. We have lights now, so you can actually see the place.”
She glanced at the gleaming copper brew tanks. “Doesn’t the beer need you? I’d hate for you to be conflicted.”
“Trust me, I’m not conflicted,” he assured her. “Tell you what. Once I get the wort moved over, I’ve got six hours to pitch the yeast. We can do a lot in that time.” He leered at her.
Thea slanted a look at him. “Promises, promises.”
THE LIGHTS, indeed, were working. And the theater?
When she walked in, it quite simply took her breath away. Under the back wall of the front lobby, they’d uncovered a mural of Hollywood stars. In the auditorium, a dark walnut bar stretched across the back wall. Ahead of her lay a hardwood floored area with brass railings and carved-wood booths. The restaurant, she assumed. The archway over the stage and all the boxes and balconies gleamed with fresh varnish.
Everything was rich, fresh, gorgeous.
“So?” He watched her closely. “What do you think?”
“Oh, Brady.” Laughing, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “It’s fabulous.”
“Really? You like it?”
“I love it. And so will everyone else. I can’t believe you’ve gotten so much done.”
“I’ve only supervised. The crews and the contractor get the credit.”
“And if I know you, you’ve pitched in with them.”
He looked embarrassed. “We’re on a tight schedule. Anyway, it’s not done, yet. Not even close. They’re still working on the rooms upstairs and the murals down here. And installing the brewery, fixing up the lobby, putting in the rest of the seats and the furniture.” He ticked the items off on his fingers. “We’re a long way from done.”
“It’s gorgeous,” she said as they walked down the terraced levels of the restaurant to reach the seating area before the stage. She turned in a full circle, looking all around. “You’ve done an amazing job with it.”
At the stage, he frowned and leaned in to inspect the baseboard at the foot of the front face. “That’s not right,” he murmured to himself.
“Turning into a perfectionist, are we?”
Pleasure lit his face. “Come up on the stage,” he said, seizing her hand to lead her to the stairs. “Sprung, just like you ordered.”
Thea stepped out onto the open stage from the wings, feeling that same charge she always did at the space, the possibilities. She could feel the give of the flooring underfoot with each step. Not extreme, but enough to keep it soft. “Oh, this is nice.” She took another step, bouncing lightly on her toes. “It’s perfect.”
“We brought in a special guy to do it.”
“You’ve got to try this out.” She held out her arms to him. “Dance with me. Come feel.”
“I’ll feel you any time.” He stepped up to her and pulled her into his arms. He pressed a kiss on her lips. “What about music?”
“I’ll hum,” she told him.
And they began.
So much had changed, she thought. Less than four weeks before, she’d stood beside him, feeling his hand pressed to her back, thinking it would only be a dance, a touch in passing. Instead, he’d come to mean so much more to her. Instead, he’d become such a big part of her life.
He led her into a basic eight and she pivoted across in front of him, feet soft on the floor. For a novice, he’d learned to give a surprisingly fluid lead into the figures that she’d taught him
here and there, when he’d been at the studio, when he’d visited Moonlight and Tango on Fridays.
She’d danced with far more skilled partners, men who’d studied the tango for decades. She never felt a part of them, though, the way she did with Brady. There was the pleasure of the dance, of performing a movement as one half of a whole. Like making love. There was the extra edge of electricity that always flowed between them, the want, the need. And there was the frank physical joy of his touch, of the press of his body, the feel of his hands.
There was something more, though, she realized as they spun around the floor, something else that made dancing with him special.
“What’s that song you’re humming?” Brady asked.
“An old one. ‘Rasgones rojos, corazón rojo.’ Red tears, red heart,” she translated.
“More longing?” He swung her into a half-moon. “Let me guess, a woman weeps for her lover…”
“A man,” she corrected with a smile.
“A man weeps for his lover, a…sheep named Roja, the prettiest sheep in the flock. But she’s toyed with his affections, broken his heart so that all he can do is weep and dance the tango with his sheepdog, Lucky.”
“Stop it.” She laughed.
“Come on, we’ve got heartbreak, longing, what else do you want?” He grinned down at her and kissed her on the tip of her nose.
And she felt a sudden wash of pure happiness. It wasn’t about heat this time, or arousal or passion. And yet it was. With Brady, she got both. Beneath the arousal that always thrummed through her when he was around, there was something surprising—comfort. He could make her burn for him, take crazy chances for a moment’s enjoyment, and yet she could find other moments like this one, quiet moments, as golden in their own way as the emotions she’d felt at the wedding.
Comfort.
Connection.
Love.
Her foot caught his and she stumbled before righting herself.
“You okay?” Brady asked.
Thea got back in her frame, eyes wide, staring over his shoulder. No, she wasn’t okay. What in the world was she thinking? Love? What was between them wasn’t supposed to be about love, it was supposed to be about sex, fun, a good time. Nothing more than that. Certainly nothing as serious as love.
Calm down, she ordered herself, flicking up her leg in a gancho. It didn’t help. It wasn’t the wash of intensive carnality that disturbed her but the simple happiness. Why did it threaten her?
Because physicality she could walk away from without a backward glance. Physicality didn’t have any hold on her. The way she’d felt with Brady, though, the way she’d been feeling with Brady was about a whole lot more than the physical. It was about ties. It meant that he had a lever, that he could control her, the same way the others had.
The same way Derek had.
She was leaving, she reminded herself, almost forcibly putting the anxiety out of her mind. Brady was temporary. He couldn’t have any control over her. Just fun, good times. Everything would be all right.
So why was she shaking?
14
SHE JUST NEEDED TIME to think, Thea told herself as the week passed. If she could get her head on straight, she and Brady could go on like they were before. They were good in bed together, too good to walk away from. They had fun. She was overcomplicating things again, that was all. All she had to do was shove all the love stuff to the back of her mind. It wasn’t like she was handing him a lever. Brady didn’t try to take over her life, to control her.
Only he did, a voice in her head whispered.
She stiffened, sitting in the driveway outside his house where she’d gone to spend the night. She’d cried off dinner, pleading work, Darlene, her mother’s surgery. Somehow, though, when he’d started talking about kitchen chairs and making her laugh, the idea of coming over had become impossible to refuse.
And that was how it always seemed to go.
It wasn’t the same, though, she told herself fiercely. Anyway, she’d take the next night for herself, she’d tell him that right up front. All she needed was space and time and she’d be able to hold her line. Time to catch her breath, without his grin, without his touch. Without one of those glances from him that wrapped the two of them together in their own world.
Shaking her head, she reached out for her cell phone.
“Hello?” Her sister answered.
“Lauren?”
“T! How are you?”
Something about Lauren’s voice always made her feel steadier. No matter how whacked their parents were, at least the two of them were sane. Mostly. “I’m okay. You?”
“Oh, all right.” She didn’t sound it, though. There was a flatness to her voice but then she’d probably gotten the same call from their father that Thea had. Discussions with Hoyt tended to do that to a person.
“I take it you got the summons,” Thea said.
“Oh yeah. Just about the time I start hoping they’ve lost my phone number, I pick up and he’s there. It’s enough to ruin your whole day.”
Thea snorted. “Whole day. Try week. How did he get to be such a charmer?”
“Just natural charisma, I guess. No wonder Mom needs heart surgery after living with him her whole life. So are you going down?”
Thea let out a breath. “I guess so. I’d like to show him by staying away, but Mom’s the one who’s going through the surgery.”
“You think this is about her? Don’t kid yourself. This is about making Hoyt’s life easier, pure and simple.”
“I know,” Thea said. “I still feel like I should go.”
“I know. Me too. That’s the truly disgusting part. After all these years, he thinks he can still snap his fingers and have us jump, and we do.”
“In this particular situation, it’s kind of hard not to. When are you going to get there?”
“I don’t know.” Lauren sighed. “The surgery’s Wednesday, right?”
“Yeah. I’m flying in Tuesday night.”
“You still up in Portland?”
“For now,” Thea said.
“How’s it going?”
“It’s good. I like the teaching.” A different answer, she reflected, than she’d given Robyn. She hesitated. “I’ve gotten hooked up with a local guy.”
“Meaning for fun or something more?” Lauren asked, a strange note in her voice.
“I don’t know.” The hot press of anxiety was back. “It started out for fun but it’s kind of changing.”
“Be careful, T. Last time I saw you, you were in kind of a strange mood.”
“I’d turned thirty two days before. Everyone’s in a strange mood then. Anyway, how could you tell? You were pretty stressed out over work yourself.”
“Yeah.” Lauren blew out a breath. “Things are kind of crazy right now. Anyway, just do me a favor and don’t dive into anything right away. Give it some time this time around, huh?”
“Trust me, I am. Besides, I’ve only got another month, month and a half here. It’s a built-in safety device.” She blinked as she saw the porch light flick on at Brady’s. He was expecting her, she reminded herself. “Listen, I’ve got to get going. As far as Mom’s surgery goes, I’m going home Friday morning. If we time it right, we can share a rental car to the airport. Is Tom coming?”
“No.”
“Lucky dog,” Thea said enviously. “I wish I had an excuse for staying home.”
“He’s not staying home, T.” Lauren’s voice got quieter. “We split up.”
The words vibrated over the phone. Tom, her sister’s husband of four years. Tom, the one who was supposed to wipe the other failures away. Tom, the guy who was supposed to be the one.
And now the ex one.
“But everything seemed fine when I was there,” Thea said blankly.
“Did they?” Lauren’s voice was quiet.
Not really, now that Thea thought about it. Some subtle tension had invested the house. Lauren had chalked it up to the two of them being busy. Thea
had figured it was just the ups and downs of married life. “I’m so sorry, honey,” she whispered.
“Me too.” Lauren gave a humorless laugh. “I thought the third time was supposed to be the charm.”
“Don’t blame yourself.”
“Who else do I blame?” she returned. “I was the one who walked into the marriage, just like I did all the others. ‘This time. This one’s going to work. Tom’s different.’” Her voice cracked. “The problem is, I’m still the same.”
Thea squeezed her eyes closed. Lauren had been her talisman, proof that no matter how bad their childhoods had been, how bad her relationships had been before, things could change. They could get better.
The problem is, I’m still the same.
“Anyway, it’s all very amicable. No kids, so there’s nothing to fight over,” she said aridly.
“Oh, Lauren.”
Her sister let out a breath. “It’ll be okay. I should be getting used to it by now, shouldn’t I?”
“You don’t ever get used to it.”
“I know. Listen, T, do me a favor. Next time I call you and tell you I’ve found the one, will you lock me up somewhere until I come to my senses?”
“The right guy for you may still be out there.”
“I don’t know. I wonder sometimes if maybe I’m just not set up for relationships. Maybe I’m missing something.”
And the unspoken words: Maybe we both are.
“That’s not true,” Thea protested. But when they ended the call, she hung up slowly, staring at the porch light.
HE’D NEVER SEEN so many books. They packed the seven-foot-high shelves that filled the room, lay stacked on tables, even grew up in neat piles against the walls. Behind the counter with the cash registers, they rose to the ceiling, accessed by a rolling ladder. Everywhere as far as Brady could see, there were books, and if there weren’t books, there were passageways to more rooms with books. It was like an apartment owned by one of those eccentric packrats who crept around in tunnels carved out of the stacks of magazines and papers and junk.
Thea glanced over at him and shook her head. “You look terrified.”
“It’s a pretty intense experience.”
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