A Family Affair: The Wish: Truth in Lies, Book 9

by Campisi, Mary

  Jeremy stopped the infernal chopping, dragged his gaze to Harry’s. “Can you help me with Lucy? You always know what to say to anybody, especially the women.”

  “Hey, I’m a married man. The only moves I got are for my wife.” But back in the day he could get a woman to do just about anything and it didn’t take more than a certain look and a lingering smile.

  “I didn’t mean any disrespect by that.” Splotches of red dotted the boy’s cheeks as if Harry had thrown bits of tomato at him. “I don’t want to lose her and I don’t know what else to do or who to ask.”

  Damn, the kid was in love with Lucy Benito! Did she know he was alive or did she think he was her diaper bag carrier? Only one way to find out. “I guess somebody’s got to help you but I might not be the best person, considering it took me almost fifty years to find the right woman.” Harry sighed when the boy put on that sad-sack face like he was headed for a life of misery with no way out. “Okay, okay, I’ll help you, but let me do a little investigating on this Jax and come up with a game plan.”

  When Harry met Pop at Lina’s Café the following morning, he had more on his mind than pancakes and eggs and the latest goings-on in town. He wanted to know what the heck was or was not going on with Pop’s granddaughter and Jeremy Ross Dean. And who the devil was Jax? “So, I hear there’s a new rooster pecking around your granddaughter.” Harry slid a dab of butter between his pancakes, reached for the syrup. “When were you gonna tell me?”

  Pop tore off a piece of bacon, shook his head. “Dang nuisance is what this is turning into and I’m about ready to give ’em all a talking-to, including Lucy. You ever hear of a whippersnapper showing up out of the blue and babbling about mistakes and how he wants to get back in sync? In sync with what? I have nothing to say except, who was here when she was all by her lonesome, pregnant, scared, and looking like a Roma tomato? You’d think Lucy would have shut him right down and given him the boot, but no, that girl’s caught up with those blue eyes and tattoos, you mark my words.” He shoved a bite of pancake in his mouth, chewed. “And the earring. I think she likes that, too.”

  “I want to see this guy,” Harry said, wondering how Jeremy Ross Dean would measure up without the tattoos and the earring. He bet this Jax had attitude, something most women found appealing, at least in the beginning. Damn, the more he heard about the kid, the less he thought Jeremy stood a chance. Still, nothing was over until it was over. “What else can you tell me about him?”

  Pop scratched his jaw, raised a bushy eyebrow. “You mean other than the fact that he dyes the tips of his hair blond and wears tighter pants than Natalie Servetti used to?” He leaned forward, spoke in a voice intended as a whisper that was anything but that. “I think he wears some kind of eye makeup, too. I only saw it the once, and I asked Lucy about it, but she pooh-poohed me and said my glasses needed cleaning.”

  Tattoos, earrings, dye jobs, makeup. If Lucy liked that kind of guy, Jeremy was done for and done in. “Where’s he been all this time?”

  “Ha, now that’s a good one.” Pop nodded his gray head, pinched his lips like he’d just bitten into a lemon. “Said he’s been living in California, travels with a band.” Pause, then a sound like a snort. “He’s the singer.”

  Add singer to the rest of Jax’s qualities, and Jeremy could hang it up. Young girls loved that sort of thing and by the time they realized they weren’t the only one, it was too late. “Lucy always struck me as a level-headed young woman. I’m surprised she’s falling for this gotta-have-you-never-forgot-you crap.”

  “You’re not the only one. That Dean boy’s walking around with the saddest face I ever seen. Why he waited so long to make a move on Lucy’s affections, I’ll never know. He could’ve had squatter’s rights if he would have used his head.”

  Harry eyed him, trying to gauge the sincerity of Pop’s words. The old man had made no bones about Jeremy keeping his pants zipped and his thoughts bleached clean. “Come on, Pop, you didn’t want that boy sniffing around Lucy and you made sure he knew it.”

  “For a time, yes, that’s true. I didn’t know if my granddaughter’s hormones would be flitting around and what state they’d be in. And the Dean boy? He seemed nice enough, but he was a kid, and he’s still a kid. I don’t like the idea of babies playing house and that did worry me, but I’ve softened toward him. You know, kind of like dough rising on a warm day. He loves Teresina and I see the way he looks at Lucy. It doesn’t take a relationship expert to see he loves my granddaughter, too. But he waited too long to jump in the lake and now somebody else pushed in ahead of him.”

  “What lake? Damn it, Pop, talk sense.” The shrug said he was talking sense, and if Harry couldn’t interpret the comment, then the lacking was on his part. If that were true, then most of the town had the same lack of understanding as Harry and the same need for an interpretation.

  “Think about it. Jeremy Ross Dean is like a thirsty man who’s come upon a lake on private property. He wants to jump in and drink his fill, but there’s fences and No Trespassing signs and all sorts of obstacles to keep him away. Besides, he doesn’t want just one drink; he wants a lifetime of drinks. So, what’s he do? He decides to bide his time, make friends with the owner, and one day, get an invitation to enjoy the lake whenever he wants. And just when he thinks he’s close to getting an invitation, along comes Jax. Sweet-talking, bold, full of promises that you can bet are full of more holes than three slices of Swiss cheese. Don’t matter. He’s got those words coated with enough sweetness to give you a toothache.” Pop set down his fork, crossed his bony arms across his chest. “And Jax isn’t going to ask nobody for an invitation to drink. No siree. He’s gonna dive in and make the biggest splash you ever seen. Maybe he’ll enjoy that lake once, or maybe he’ll set up camp for a week or two, but he won’t stay for long. Once the newness turns into the routine, he’ll pack up and head out. Maybe he’ll say good-bye or maybe he won’t. Either way, he’s gone, leaving Lucy with a broken heart and a whole lot of regret.”

  Damn, but Harry actually understood what Pop meant. He couldn’t believe he’d followed the talk about lakes and fences and no trespassing and Jax diving in regardless of who owned the property and setting up camp and ending with the broken heart and regret. But he really did know what Pop meant. Harry grinned and said, “You know, this is the first time I don’t need you to interpret one of your stories. I got it. Jax isn’t going to respect Lucy; he’ll use any means he can think of to get her into bed.” He paused to polish up his language. This was Pop’s granddaughter they were talking about, not some fly-by-night young girl. “And she might fall for it and end up with him.”

  “Yup. That’s about the long and short of it.” He drummed his fingers on the table, pinned Harry with his dark eyes. “We’re gonna have to stop him, Harry. Me, you, and Jeremy.”

  “It’s gonna take a lot of work.”

  “Nothing worthwhile is easy. I’ll bet Greta thought that about you a time or two.”

  Harry laughed. “I’ll bet she still thinks that.”

  That made Pop smile. “I’ll bet she does, saint that she is.”

  “So, about this Jax guy…”

  “I know what you’re wondering. Is he Teresina’s father?” Pop plowed on before Harry could give him an answer. “I asked Lucy the same question and she looked at me like I’d asked if I should dye my hair green. Not sure if the puny look was because she couldn’t imagine Jax being a father or if she wants to forget who is the father. No sense trying to get an answer on that one because Lucy’s just like her grandma—stubborn.”

  Now Pop was losing him. “You don’t think Jax is the father.”

  Pop shook his head. “I do not. However, I am a mite curious as to what part he plays in Lucy’s life, past, present, and future.”

  “I agree. Surprised I haven’t seen him around. He’s not staying at your place, is he?”

  “Lord no.” Pop made a face that looked like he’d eaten half a rotten egg. “He’s staying at t
he Heart Sent. How’s a kid with ripped jeans and a beat-up leather jacket afford a place like that?”

  “No idea.” Hmm. So, Jax was staying at Mimi Pendergrass’s place. Harry might have to take a stroll there and say hello to Mimi, and while he was there, he’d see if her new guest was in so he could show him Magdalena hospitality. This Jax and Lucy situation wasn’t good for Pop’s health or Jeremy’s heart, and Harry vowed to help them. That’s what friends did, right? Helped each other?

  “Lucy said he’s taking off today, something about his band and Indiana, but he’ll be back.” Pop shook his head, made the sign of the cross. “He told her he wouldn’t mind if Magdalena was home base, and I know what that means.”

  “Yeah.” Harry lifted his coffee cup, saluted his friend. “It means we have to make sure the next time that kid sets foot in our town is the last time.”

  * * *

  By the time Bree got to the office, Adam was already at his desk, papers spread out in front of him, looking pressed and fresh, like he’d walked out of a magazine shoot. The reading glasses were a nice touch, gave him the executive look that said, “I’m great-looking and smart, too.” As if a person couldn’t tell after five sentences with the man. Oh, he was a smart one, all right, the exact opposite of her dead ex-husband who’d been a little on the short side in the brains department. Was it horrible to admit what she’d spent years covering up from everyone, even herself? Brody was a dumb-dumb. Curse the man. He’d made his bed and it had landed him in St. Gertrude’s Cemetery decomposing like an old tree. Bree pushed this thought aside and made her way to Adam’s desk, carrying a cardboard container with two coffees and a bag of goodies from Barbara’s Boutique and Bakery. She plopped the bag on his desk and placed a coffee, black, one sugar substitute, next to it. “I brought you something.”

  He removed his glasses and leaned back in his chair. “Let me guess. Homemade brownies. Bet you got up at 5:00 a.m. to make them because you guessed they’re my favorite.”

  The smile pulled the dimples from his cheeks. Lord, but the man was handsome. She smiled back, opened the bag, and removed an oversized square of double fudge brownie sprinkled with powdered sugar. “You look like a chocolate man.” Bree placed the brownie on a napkin and nudged it toward him. “I can personally vouch for Barbara’s brownies. De-lic-ious.”

  “Barbara, huh?” He worked his lips into a frown. “And here I thought you made them.”

  She sat in the chair across from his desk, pulled another brownie from the bag, bit into it. “Mmm.” Since Lucy Benito had taken over the bakery with the help of Ramona Casherdon, everything tasted better. The sugar cookies still weren’t up to par with Elise’s, but they were getting there. “Actually, Barbara doesn’t work there anymore. She just runs the place—I think until Lucy can get enough money together to put in an offer, or maybe she’s already done that. I don’t really know.” She’d spent too many months in her own world and too little time in anyone else’s.

  “Who’s Lucy?”

  “Lucy Benito. She’s Pop Benito’s granddaughter.” Pause. “Oh, I guess you don’t know any of these people, do you?”

  He shook his head. “Other than your family, Mimi Pendergrass is the only person I’ve met.”

  “Well. We’ll have to change that.” She took another bite of brownie, chewed. Was there ever anything so tantalizing as a double fudge brownie? Maybe the strawberry ’n’ cream cupcakes she’d developed an addiction to, and Elise’s sugar cookies…and then there were the cream puffs…

  “Bree?”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m sorry about last night. When your father asked me to dinner, I didn’t know how to get out of it and I didn’t have a way to warn you.”

  When he looked at her with those big, gray eyes and spoke in that soft, sexy voice, what was a girl to say to that? “Thank you. Daddy can be very persuasive. Trust me, I’ve been on the other end of that invitation before.” She eyed him, asked the question she’d been wondering since last evening. “Why’d you jump in when he started lambasting me about my dead husband?”

  “I didn’t like seeing you cornered like that.” Those gray eyes narrowed, shifted to silver. “Nobody should have to pay for another person’s bad choices, even if they were married to the guy. I meant what I said, you can’t make people do anything they don’t want to, no matter how bad you want it.”

  She didn’t miss the rawness in his voice, like he was thinking about something else or maybe someone else, and he’d been the one who suffered. Was it a woman? No way could she ask him now, not when he had that look on his face, like the pain would start spurting from his pores any second. Bree cleared her throat, eased the coffee toward him, and said, “Peace offering?”

  “For what?”

  “I’ve been thinking about this consulting baloney and I’m not happy about it. Not one bit, so I won’t pretend I am. I’m madder than a hornet that my own father strung me along and didn’t tell me he’d hired a consultant, but I can’t really blame you for it, now can I? I mean, how could you have known you were coming here when we met? You didn’t know me, didn’t know anything about me.” She paused, rewound the last few seconds. “Did you?”

  “Of course not. I don’t combine business with—” he blushed an attractive persimmon and cleared his throat “—personal interests.” The blush grew darker, turned maroon. “I wasn’t happy when I found out you were Rex’s daughter.” Pure misery and discomfort coated his face, like he’d stepped on a bee and gotten stung. “But the only up side was knowing how to find you.” His gaze made her insides toasty, but his next words scorched them. “I would have found you eventually, even if I had to scour through every trade show list that was in town when you were. Plus, I knew you lived flying distance away, though the accent threw me.”

  “What accent?” She laughed and lifted a shoulder. “I wanted to move to Georgia after I saw Gone with the Wind, but when Mama and Daddy refused, I figured I’d bring Georgia here.” Oh, he liked that one. His laughter spilled over her, wrapped her up, and hugged her so tight she grew dizzy. Bree gripped the edges of the desk to steady herself. The man knew how to cast a spell, and if she weren’t extra careful, she’d be under it. Question was, would she be a willing victim, or not?

  “So, now that you’re not mad at me anymore, can I take you to dinner?”

  Bree fanned herself, tried to force the heat from that blasted gaze down a few degrees. “I don’t know. I suppose we could arrive at some sort of deal. Let’s see.” She sat back in the chair, crossed one leg over the other, and considered his invitation. Of course, she knew what she wanted, had known what she wanted before she walked into the office this morning. It was one of the reasons she stopped at the bakery. Daddy wanted a consultant to look at the business and recommend improvements, and Adam Brandon was the man who’d been chosen to do that. What if he showed her exactly what needed improving and taught her how to do it? No ignoring the man’s intelligence, and if she could show her father that she knew how to adapt and make improvements, even understood the process and particulars involved in carrying the company forward, maybe he’d finally put his faith in her. Maybe he’d make her president.

  And Adam Brandon would help.

  Of course, it didn’t hurt that she and her father’s consultant had incredible, sizzling chemistry. That did not hurt at all. Maybe they’d share some of that chemistry one day soon the way they’d done in Chicago, and maybe this time she’d remember every single detail. Why not? Sharing chemistry with someone she enjoyed being around did not make her one of those women. Her insides fluttered when she thought of the way he’d touched her, and when she remembered the kisses along her leg…

  “Bree?”

  She jerked her head up, stared at him. “Hmm?”

  “You were a hundred miles away. Daydreaming?”

  Daydreaming. Yes, and fantasizing. About you! Bree snatched her coffee and stood, fixed her gaze on his chin. A strong chin, a kissable chin…how was she going
to convince him to help her see what needed fixing if she couldn’t be near him without her hormones going crazy? She’d better find a way…and fast. But how?

  By lunchtime, Bree had a half-baked plan and a vision that included advice from Natalie Servetti. Fortunately, the one woman who could give her seduction “how-to’s” and not judge her was available for a 12:15 pedicure appointment. By the time Bree reached the salon, she was in a tizzy. The morning had flown by but not in a good way unless a person considered counting the breaths of the other person in the room as though they were her own a good thing. Bree did not consider this acceptable, had no idea why Adam Brandon had taken on a sudden magnetism that was so much more than chemistry. It was downright explosive, like dynamite, and it scared her. What was wrong? Why had her breath gone all fluttery and her pulse tap-danced in her ears when Adam leaned his strong hands on her desk to study a spreadsheet. And the flushing—beet red, blood red, hot red—what was that about?

  Natalie would know and she would also know what to do about it.

  “Bree?” Natalie smiled and waved her back. “Changed your mind about a pedicure, huh?”

  “Yes, I sure did.” Bree followed the woman, tried to decide on a way to broach the other reason she’d come today. When she’d had her manicure, she’d insisted pedicures took too much time and she wouldn’t be indulging in one. But now here she was. Natalie would think her a ninny until she learned the whole truth.

  “You’ll enjoy it, trust me.” She motioned for Bree to sit in the cushy leather chair with the running basin of water. “There’s nothing like it. Pure pleasure.” Natalie removed Bree’s shoes, sat on the stool next to her. “Thanks for coming back, Bree. I really appreciate it.”

  Bree bit her bottom lip, nodded. Natalie really thought it was about the pedicure, and Bree hated to tell her otherwise, but she needed help, the kind this woman could give her. “I didn’t just come for the pedicure,” she whispered. “I need your advice.”