Secret Blend (Bourbon Springs Book 1)

by Jennifer Bramseth

  Chapter 8

  When the morning dawned, Rachel found herself alternatively excited and anxious to return to the office after her mini-tryst with Brady. With the memory of his touch still clear in her mind, she had managed to bring herself to climax in the pool, but her appetite had not been sated. And her subconscious had been quite aware of this fact.

  Overnight, Rachel had a very naughty dream about the good Judge Craft. In it, her own alternate version of reality, the custodian had not interrupted them and nature had taken its course. In fact, nature had taken its course at least three times in her dream, and at the end, the two of them somehow moved from that basement couch to the small loveseat in Rachel’s office. Now she was going to have all kinds of wicked fantasies concerning the heretofore boring piece of furniture that was barely sufficient for taking a nap.

  Sherry was already behind her desk when Rachel arrived.

  “How the hell did you get yourself locked in the evidence vault? And with that jerk, no less?”

  “Good morning to you, too,” snapped Rachel as she headed directly for her office with Sherry at her heels.

  “What happened?” demanded Sherry.

  Rachel ignored her. “I take it the entire courthouse knows?” Rachel asked, throwing her briefcase onto the loveseat. She tried not to give it a long, lingering look.

  “Of course,” Sherry confirmed. “You realize that it was just dumb luck that Wally was down there last night?”

  “Wally?”

  “The custodian,” Sherry clarified. “He’d forgotten to sweep in there the night before, so he went back last night to get the job done. Only does that once a week. If Wally hadn’t come along…”

  “I know, I know,” Rachel sniped. “We would’ve been trapped in there.”

  “Yes, all night—and with Brady Craft, of all people.”

  “Don’t remind me,” moaned Rachel.

  Sherry laughed and left Rachel alone to replay her lovely dream.

  Rachel felt relieved that Brady had not arrived at work before her. She would’ve walked right by his desk to get to her own office and she wondered whether she would have been able to act normally with him sitting right there as she passed.

  And what was normal now?

  The first thing Brady noticed when he got to the office was Rachel’s perfume. Even though he’d seen her car outside and known she was already at work, her scent aroused him in an instant. He felt himself getting hard and rushed to sit before Sherry saw anything—again.

  Brady sat at his desk and was turning on his computer when he heard her.

  “Good morning,” Rachel said, causing him to start. She had poked her head around the partition and was smiling at him.

  “Oh, you surprised me there a little. Didn’t hear you.”

  Their eyes met. Rachel swallowed and Brady took in a long breath.

  It was a very good thing he was sitting down. In addition to the assault on his senses caused by her perfume, he now had to contend with the sight of her. Rachel was wearing a suit in his favorite color, royal blue, and she glowed like an electrified sapphire in the dullness of their office.

  “I hope you’re none the worse after being locked up with me last night,” Rachel said.

  Brady wondered what her definition of worse was, because, as clichéd as it was, he wanted her in the worst way.

  “I’m fine,” he said, turning to his computer to relieve himself of the enticing distraction of his fellow judge.

  “Good to know.” Rachel smiled, turned on her heel, and returned to her office area.

  They sat in separate silences, and Brady became acutely aware of her presence a mere few feet away. Whenever he heard her tapping on her keyboard, his breath caught when he visualized her fingers flying over the keys—the same fingers that had been splayed across his back a few hours earlier. And when he heard Rachel moving in her chair, causing it to emit little squeaks and groans, he couldn’t stop thinking about the sweet little noises Rachel had made as his hands had freely roamed over her body.

  “I have to go down to the clerk’s office and take some orders,” Sherry yelled from her desk. “I’ll also pull your files you need for civil motion hour tomorrow, so I’ll be lucky to get back here in fifteen minutes.”

  Brady was out of his chair the moment Sherry closed the door behind her. He nearly bumped into Rachel as he reached the partition opening.

  “Seems like we had the same idea,” he said as he grabbed the partition edge with his right hand.

  Rachel backed away from him a little, and they stood some distance apart, each staring down the other, waiting for something to happen.

  Rachel broke first.

  “Come here,” she commanded in a breathy whisper, her mouth slightly open.

  Brady froze. “That’s the hottest thing any woman has ever said to me.”

  “Then shut up and get over here,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

  Brady didn’t need to be told again, and they fell upon each other in the next instant. He put both hands on the sides of Rachel’s heart-shaped face and brought his mouth down upon hers before she could even wrap her arms around him. She moved her form along his and brushed his hardness, causing him to break the kiss and back away from her, breathing heavily. Looking down, he saw what was happening again to his body, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

  “This isn’t being very careful,” he said. “I thought we were going to be careful.”

  Rachel nodded and dropped her head. “You’re right,” she agreed.

  He opened his eyes. “If I kiss you again…I don’t know if I could stop myself, Rachel.”

  “I think I’d like that,” she admitted.

  Brady emitted a shuddering groan and narrowed his eyes. “Can we please go on that date this weekend?” he asked. “We said last night that we’d talk about it.”

  “Sure. Which night?”

  “Friday. I can’t wait until Saturday,” he admitted.

  “I concur, Judge Craft.”

  He shuddered. “I do so love it when you call me that.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Rachel told him, keeping her eyes on his face but then glancing at her loveseat.

  “And what else is on your mind?” he asked. She said nothing, but turned red, which told him everything he needed to know in that moment. “I hope I get to find out someday.” He left her office and returned to his space.

  They kept their distance for the rest of the morning but when lunchtime drew near, Brady decided he needed to go home for a short time and take a cold shower. It was warm outside that day anyway, so he could always explain his extra bit of cleanliness as just wanting to freshen up. With a quick goodbye to Rachel over the partition, he told Sherry he was going home for lunch and would be back within the hour. He thought it best to take his messenger bag with him since it came in handy to conceal that certain kind of embarrassment that was becoming rather common now that Rachel had invaded his world.

  Once out on the courthouse square, Brady remembered that he had very little to eat at home, and decided to dash across the street to Over a Barrel to pick up a sandwich. There was a long line, but he didn’t mind waiting for a while because he knew the food was always good. After glancing at the bourbon barrels painted all over the floor (which gave the deli its tongue-in-cheek name), Brady scrutinized the menu, scratched onto the large rectangular chalkboard hanging on the wall behind the register. Since the menu often changed (one of the good things about the deli, as well as the damned fine food and superb bourbon balls), he appreciated the opportunity to see if there was anything new. But as the seconds slowly passed, he became more and more anxious to get home, eat, and get that cold shower.

  At the moment he spotted a new bourbon pecan chicken sandwich on the menu, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Standing behind him was a very good-looking blonde he immediately recognized.

  “Judge Craft,” said Hannah Davenport, holding out her hand. Brady took the proffered paw and sl
owly shook it.

  “Hello, Hannah,” Brady said casually. He wondered why she was being so formal with the handshake, although he appreciated that she’d used his title.

  “I just wanted to say hello, and no hard feelings.”

  Brady blinked several times. “Wha-what? Hard feelings?”

  Hannah frowned and turned her head slightly to the right.

  “You don’t know?” she asked, the hint of confusion in her voice as she apparently tried to assess the genuineness of his own befuddlement.

  He shrugged. “Haven’t a clue,” he admitted.

  “I’m surprised Rachel hasn’t mentioned it to you,” Hannah said, a smile spreading across her face. Brady could tell she was enjoying the fact that she knew something that he didn’t.

  “Well, what is it that Rachel—Judge Richards—supposedly hasn’t told me?”

  “That I’m going to run against you, of course,” Hannah said as though it were obvious. “That’s what I meant about no hard feelings. You know, the best friend of your officemate running against you, not to mention we’ve know each other for years, right?”

  Brady’s insides boiled. How could Rachel not tell him? Had she known when she reminded him he could still draw an opponent in the election? Rachel must have known—Hannah was her best friend.

  “Judge Richards neglected to mention it to me,” Brady said coldly.

  “Well, she’s the one who encouraged me to go for it, of course,” Hannah added, and he could sense her glee in delivering this bit of news.

  “Next!” a voice from behind Brady yelled.

  But he had lost his appetite.

  Brady gave Hannah a cold stare while she continued to smile, and then he nodded and left without ordering anything.

  Breathing heavily, Brady raced to his townhouse. He slammed the door behind him after entering, dropped his messenger bag in the hall, stormed into his living room, and fell onto the couch with his head in his hands. At first, he didn’t know which was the worst part: the fact that he suddenly had opposition in the election, that Rachel hadn’t told him about it, or that she’d encouraged Hannah to run.

  He decided it was a tie between the latter two.

  Brady felt like someone had knifed him in the gut.

  Why hadn’t Rachel told him? So she could be a judge with her friend?

  Suddenly Brady didn’t want a cold shower.

  And he wondered whether Rachel really wanted him.

  After a lunch consisting of a glass of water and a piece of toast (it was all his stomach could tolerate), Brady scooped up his bag from the foyer and trudged back to the courthouse.

  Without checking to see if Rachel was in her office, Brady slipped to his own desk and said nothing to Sherry, who seemed completely unaffected by his lack of attention to her. He sat, looked at his computer, and tried to read the few emails he’d received while he’d been out. But he couldn’t concentrate. Sinking into his chair, Brady threw his head back and stared at the ceiling.

  Sherry was just outside both offices. If he confronted Rachel, Sherry would probably hear everything.

  He didn’t care.

  Brady pushed himself out of his seat and headed to Rachel’s office; she wasn’t there. He got a faint whiff of her perfume as he left and felt his chest constrict.

  “Where’s Ra-Judge Richards?” Brady asked Sherry.

  “She went to the post office and the library I think,” Sherry reported, and glanced at the docket reports she’d been reviewing before looking up at him. “Something you need?”

  “No, thanks,” he said, and stormed back to his office.

  Rachel returned to chambers soon after one o’clock and breezed past Brady’s desk. She was ready to flash him a suggestive smile as she passed through, but he didn’t look at her, making her think he was taking the “being careful” thing a little too seriously.

  As soon as she took her seat behind her desk, Rachel heard Sherry call out, saying she was going to the clerk’s office and would be gone for at least fifteen minutes. Hearing the office door close behind Sherry, she excitedly waited for Brady to come to her. Maybe they could work in a quick kiss or two in Sherry’s absence, or just have some fun talking.

  But Brady didn’t appear, so Rachel went to him.

  “Hello there,” she said in a suggestive voice.

  “Hello,” was his flat, emotionless reply, and she immediately sensed a problem in the offing.

  She took a few steps into his space. “Is something wrong?”

  He was sitting at his desk, staring at his computer screen. And he still wouldn’t look at her.

  “I’ll say there is. How long have you known Hannah was going to run against me?”

  “What?” Rachel cried. “I didn’t know that!”

  “I ran into her over at the deli during lunch,” Brady said, finally turning to face her. He stood and came out from behind his desk. “Said you’d encouraged her to do it.”

  Rachel blinked. She tried to remember when she had ever given any indication of support to Hannah regarding what she’d thought had been a strictly theoretical judicial campaign.

  “We did go out to eat once recently,” Rachel said. “But I thought it was just talk. Hannah was a little tipsy.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this?” Brady demanded. “Didn’t you want me to know? Or did you want to have Hannah join you on the bench?”

  Rachel’s jaw dropped. “You—you think I kept this from you on purpose?”

  “What else am I to think? She said she’s your best friend, Rachel!”

  “Brady, that’s nuts,” she said angrily. “Hannah and I had drinks and dinner. She asked me about you, and this was during the time that we weren’t getting along. Then she started mouthing off about running.”

  “And you just forgot to tell me, right?” he asked, crossing his arms.

  “I didn’t forget, Brady,” Rachel snapped. “There wasn’t anything to tell. I thought she was on a mild margarita buzz. And just so we’re clear,” she said and pointed at him, “I don’t have to tell you anything. You seem to think I had an obligation to pass this on.”

  “That’s exactly what I think,” Brady said.

  Rachel tilted her head and squinted at him. “You don’t trust me, do you? You don’t think I’m telling you the truth, right?”

  Brady said nothing and gave her an emotionless, vacant stare.

  Rachel’s heart sank, her stomach turned, and she retreated to her office.

  So the jerk version of Brady was still there. The nice guy version was just an act, an illusion, a fallacy. And she wanted the nice guy. Rachel resolved not to cry—at least not at work. She would save her tears for home and not give him that satisfaction.

  For the rest of the day, Rachel didn’t see Brady, although she heard him moving around in his office and on the phone a few times. She didn’t return to his space and wasn’t about to go see him and try to talk things out. Whatever they’d had together was over. In fact, it never really began. Just a few steamy kisses and caresses. Nothing more. That was it.

  Rachel inwardly cringed. He was still that jackass in a great-looking package, and she was furious with herself that she’d not been able to see through Brady’s façade.

  Yet she was sad. She felt like she’d lost something she couldn’t quite describe, something ephemeral and intangible.

  Then it hit her.

  She’d lost that little grain of expectation, hint of excitement, the shiver of happiness. The burgeoning sense of hope she dared to harbor about the wonderful possibility of getting closer to Brady—the nice version.

  She stood and looked out her office window, not really seeing the courthouse grounds. Rachel realized that instead of the date she had been achingly anticipating with Brady, now the only things she had to look forward to over the next few days were the chances of getting outside to plant some flowers and enjoying her pool.

  Not exactly a substitute for the kind of things—the very naughty things—s
he had hoped to do with Brady Craft.

  Even though he knew Rachel was on the other side of that stupid partition, he couldn’t hear her. Brady had expected to perhaps hear some tears, a few sobs, but no sound came from that end of the office.

  She’d completely shut him out.

  And although he found it hard to believe that Rachel hadn’t known Hannah’s plans, he slowly and painfully came to the conclusion as his anger ebbed that it was even harder to believe she would lie. As he mulled over the things she had said, his massive error of judgment became clear to him.

  Rachel had warned him of the possibility of getting an opponent, and had wanted them to be careful because of their reputations–especially his. And those facts showed that Rachel wanted him to stay on the bench—and that she cared about him.

  And yet, in the course of a few minutes, he’d pushed her away in anger.

  He felt so horrible and sick at what he’d said to Rachel that he knew he needed to leave.

  Brady had to get out of that office, get home, and think about how he could salvage any kind of relationship with her. Because his feelings for Rachel Richards were becoming something more intense and powerful than he’d felt for a woman in a long, long time.

  Chapter 9

  Mercifully, Friday was a busy day. Rachel normally would not have welcomed such a hectic schedule, which was filled with two motion hours, arraignments, and a jury orientation, but today was an exception. As a result, she was out of her office and on the bench for most of the day.

  And away from Brady.

  Rachel didn’t see him the entire workday. She got to the office before him, and he still hadn’t arrived before she’d gone into the courtroom that morning. According to Sherry, he had a few motions in the first floor courtroom and then left, claiming a dental appointment.

  Good riddance.

  She wished she could be more angry than brokenhearted.

  Not that she was going to let Brady know how she felt. No, all he was going to get from her from now on was a cold, steely glare—and that was only if she absolutely had to acknowledge his existence from time to time.