She owed the housekeeper a huge apology for placing her in the position of being deceitful to her employer.
Despite Mrs. O.’s mood, lunch was delicious, as always—a salad of mountain greens, Gorgonzola cheese and sliced strawberries, along with cold salmon sandwiches and a scrumptious dill sauce.
“How do you keep so fit while you’re eating Mrs. O.’s delicious food?”
Brodie smiled. “Why do you think I had to put in a swimming pool? If I slack off on the laps in the morning, I pay for it.”
Taryn, she was happy to see, only needed minimal help cutting her sandwich into small, more easily handled portions. She struggled a little with the salad greens but managed to maneuver more into her mouth than on the plate. She didn’t even spill her drink, something they’d been battling all week.
This was the addictive part of being a therapist: charting real, practical progress in everyday ways that helped someone live better.
Their conversation over lunch drifted between topics, from the bead project she was working on, to a new Asian-fusion restaurant he was opening in a new development in town, to his time as a ski jumper.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Brodie asked after a half hour or so and Evie realized the girl had set down her half-eaten sandwich and hadn’t contributed to the conversation in some time.
Taryn gave her lopsided smile. “Tired.”
“We have had a full morning,” Evie said. “You worked hard today. Do you want to take a little rest in your room before we start the plan for the afternoon? We can put the beading away until later.”
Taryn nodded and Brodie pushed away from the table. “I’m finished here. I can take her inside and help her to transfer.”
Evie was finished as well. “I’ll clean up out here.”
“Mrs. Olafson can take care of that.”
“So can I,” she returned. Though her family had always employed a cook and a housekeeper, her mother had insisted Evie and her sister clean up after themselves—and besides, right now she needed to do all she could to stay in the housekeeper’s good graces.
When she carried the tray of dishes into the kitchen, Mrs. Olafson was rolling pastry dough out on the counter.
“You can set those by the sink. I’ll take care of them when I’m finished here.”
Evie thought about loading them into the dishwasher but decided heeding the other woman’s wishes would be the wiser course, given the circumstances.
“Thank you for lunch. It was delicious, as always. You have a gift.”
Mrs. O. didn’t answer, only continued wielding the rolling pin with rather jerky, abrupt motions. Evie released a heavy breath.
“I know you think I overstepped by inviting Charlie Beaumont to visit Taryn. But you should have seen her walking today, Mrs. Olafson. She has never gone that far just for me alone.”
“It’s not right. I don’t like being deceitful.”
“I’m not asking you to deceive anyone. Go ahead and tell Brodie right now if you feel it’s the right thing to do. He’s in Taryn’s room.”
The other woman looked at her. “He won’t allow the boy back in the house.”
“I know that.”
Mrs. O. paused. “You say she was walking more when he was here?”
“She walked the entire length of her rooms three times without a single complaint.”
“That’s something.”
“I agree.” Evie held her breath as the woman seemed to be considering.
“I won’t say anything for now. But I still don’t like it.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Olafson. And thank you again for lunch. You do a marvelous job taking care of the Thornes. They’re very lucky to have you.”
The housekeeper seemed slightly mollified by that, but Evie felt uneasy about placing the other woman in such a difficult position.
When she returned to Taryn’s rooms, she found Brodie backing out, moving with extraordinary stealth for such a large man.
“Is she already asleep?”
“Close enough. Your dog definitely was. He curled right up beside her bed. You must have exhausted both of them today.”
This was the perfect time to mention Charlie. The words hovered there but she couldn’t quite do it. “Taryn worked hard,” she said instead, feeling like an abject coward. “She deserves to rest for a few minutes.”
“So do you.”
“I just had a lovely lunch break, and before that I was beading for an hour. Not exactly hard physical labor.”
“I know Taryn’s not an easy patient.”
“She hasn’t been that bad,” Evie said.
“Yet you still don’t want to keep working with her?”
She gave a rueful laugh. “Nice try, Brodie.”
“I promised myself I wasn’t going to keep asking after what you told me the other night about your daughter, but I can’t seem to help it. Sorry.”
“You can keep asking and I’ll keep turning you down,” she said. Better not to think about what else had happened that night.
“Every business owner knows he needs a contingency plan. I’ve got a few more résumés in my office. Since Taryn is resting, do you have a moment to look over them with me and help me vet the potential candidates?”
“Sure. Of course.”
Much to her dismay, the memory of that kiss haunted her as they walked down the hall toward his office. She could still feel the heat of his mouth on hers, feel the leashed strength in his muscles as she had foolishly wrapped her arms around him.
Perhaps being alone with him wasn’t the smartest idea. She wondered how he would respond if she suggested calling Mrs. Olafson in to chaperone—not that he had indicated any interest in kissing her again.
That was a good thing. Or so she tried to convince herself.
His office was a masculine space near the front door, painted in rich, earthy brick tones, with wide French doors leading into it and expansive views over the valley. She hadn’t been inside before, as he had chosen to conduct the two job interviews she’d attended in the more formal setting of the living room.
As he shuffled through a folder of papers on his desk, Evie happened to notice a collection of framed photographs on a shelf above the console table adjacent to his desk. She moved closer for a better look. Most of them were of Taryn through various stages of life and she found this evidence of unexpected sentimentality from him rather endearing.
One in particular caught her attention. It had been shot on what looked like a sunny, wintry day and showed a little girl who looked about three years old with big blue eyes and long dark curls. She was dressed in a pink ski suit, perched on a snowboard and grinning from ear to ear. Bent over her and holding her hands out to the side as if helping her with technique was a lovely petite woman, her auburn hair in pigtail braids under a beanie and her own snowboard propped at the edge of the frame.
“Is this Taryn’s mother?” she guessed.
He looked up from the file folder with a slightly unfocused look in his eyes. It took a moment for his gaze to sharpen.
“Right. That’s Marcy.” He made a rueful sort of face. “And before you think I keep the picture around with the rest of those as some physical token of my undying love, let me assure you that’s definitely not the case. I keep the picture partly for Taryn’s sake, to help her remember her mother. But also because it reminds me that life can change in an instant.”
Why did he think he needed a constant reminder of that delightful little fact of life? she wondered.
He took the frame and held it for a moment, then shook his head and set it back on the shelf. “Marcy took off not long after that was taken. I was out of town meeting with investors for my first restaurant, which is probably why she picked that particular day to leave. At least she stopped long enough to drop Taryn off with my mother before she skipped town with a guy she had just met on the slopes.”
“Wow. You had no advance warning?”
“Technically, no, but I should have
known. We were broken long before she left. I ignored plenty of signs that she had been trying to edge out of our lives for a while. She kept dropping all these hints and I ignored them, too busy trying to provide for her and Taryn. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I’ll tell you. We weren’t exactly what you’d call a match made in heaven. If you want the truth, I married her mostly to piss off my father.”
She gave a rough laugh at his matter-of-fact tone, though it wasn’t amusing in the least. “Quite a reason to bind your life to someone.”
“Well, that’s the reason we dated, anyway. Marcy was a party girl. She skied hard and she played hard, just like I did. My father hated her and I hated my father so it seemed a perfect scenario. I wasn’t the most mature twenty-one-year-old guy around, I’ll freely admit it.”
“Most aren’t,” she murmured.
“Marcy and I were just messing around, you know? Neither one of us was serious—and then we found out she was pregnant.”
“A shock for both of you, I’m sure.” She had to admit, she had a tough time picturing Brodie as a wild young man, though she had heard the stories. She knew he’d been a rising star in the heavily competitive ski-jump world and that he’d trained for the Olympics. She found it tough to gel that image with the driven entrepreneur he’d become, though she wasn’t sure why. She could imagine he had to use some of that same dedication and drive in any competitive athletics that he used in the business world.
“I didn’t want to keep her. Taryn, I mean. Deep down, despite her party-girl ways, Marcy was Catholic and would never consider terminating the pregnancy. At first, I pushed her to give the baby up for adoption. The last thing I wanted at the time was to be tied down with a kid.”
Guilt flickered in his gaze and he sighed heavily. “I sometimes think Taryn would have been better off if I had continued to push for that. If Marcy and I had decided not to get married instead.”
“How can you say that? You love Taryn.”
“I love her but I haven’t been the best father.”
He spoke in a low voice, his mouth tight and those shadows of guilt in his blue eyes, and her heart ached for him. She felt extraordinarily touched that he would confide this in her, something she very much doubted he had ever shared with anyone else. At the same time, it terrified her. In only a matter of days, their relationship had shifted from tension and dislike to something far different. Something intense and rich and sweetly profound.
She touched his arm. “All parents wish they had done something better. It’s part of the universal code of parenting, I think. Don’t beat yourself up, Brodie.”
The muscles beneath her fingers flexed. “I pushed her too hard. The last few years, it seems like I rode her all the time. About grades, about boys, about her clothes, about wasting so much time online and texting.”
“You mean like any concerned father would?”
“Between my work schedule and her hectic school and social life, it seems like the few moments I did spend with her at dinnertime or whatever were always strained and tense. She wanted something from me and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what the hell it was.”
Your love. Just your love. She bit her lip and remained silent, not wanting to add to his guilt.
“Even though we had my mom to pick up the slack, losing Marcy when Taryn was just a little kid was tough on her,” he went on after a pause. “I think it was harder because for those first few years Marcy would flit in and out on a whim, make all kinds of promises, then never keep any of them. You want to know what a terrible, selfish person I am? It was almost a relief to me when Marcy was killed in an avalanche heli-skiing in Chile somewhere. Yeah, I grieved for all those missed chances and for the woman I’d tried to convince myself I loved years ago, but at least after she died, I knew she couldn’t break Taryn’s heart anymore.”
“You’re not a terrible person, Brodie.” It would be far, far easier for her if he were. She could feel those cracks in the ice around her heart cut deeper, almost hear the thunder in her ears as pieces of it fell away like glaciers calving in the Arctic sea.
“I should have tried harder to keep my marriage together so Taryn could have had a chance at a regular life, with a mother who wasn’t always looking for the next thrill until it killed her.”
Evie didn’t want this, the sweet, seductive tenderness that curled around and between them. She wanted to run as far and as fast as she could away from this soft warmth.
“I didn’t know you then but I have a little experience with who you are now. I have no doubt whatsoever that you did all within your power to make things work. Trust me when I say you’re the most determined man I’ve ever met.”
“Is that a compliment or an insult?”
A few weeks earlier, her words might have been edged with derision. She had viewed Brodie as a man who took what he wanted, regardless of the consequences. She had seen firsthand the power he wielded in Hope’s Crossing, the way he could sway a roomful of civic leaders to his way of thinking.
What she had once considered arrogance, now she recognized as vision and sheer strength of will. He knew what he wanted—and unlike most of the world, he had no problem doing what was necessary to make it happen, whether that was developing a neighborhood or healing his daughter.
“A compliment,” she murmured. “Definitely a compliment.”
“I’ll take it as such, then.”
Their gazes met and the air between them suddenly seemed to crackle and spark with electricity. She knew he was thinking about that kiss. She could see it in the way he swallowed and the expansion of his pupils, until the dark almost overtook the blue of his irises.
He wanted to kiss her again. And she wanted to let him.
“Taryn is probably awake by now,” she said, then was embarrassed by the huskiness of her voice.
“I doubt it,” he said. “She can be a pretty sound sleeper.”
She needed to go now, while she could. Move. The warning registered in her mind but she couldn’t seem to make her feet cooperate. With a funny sense of inevitability, she saw Brodie walk around his desk to stand in front of her.
“Evaline,” he murmured. Just that, only her name, and she was lost. She didn’t resist when he pulled her to her feet or when he curved one hand around her cheek, his fingers warm on her skin, or when he lowered his head and his mouth found hers.
He tasted delicious, of cherries and a hint of chocolate, probably from that thin slice of cake he’d had for dessert after lunch. Somehow she had always known chocolate would eventually be her downfall but this wasn’t quite what she’d expected.
Where their first kiss had been slow and easy, this one was…more. More sensual, more intense, more demanding.
More…wow.
His tongue licked at the seam of her mouth and she couldn’t resist parting her lips, drawing him closer, pressing her body to his as he deepened the kiss.
Oh. My. He was an extraordinary kisser. Who would have thought serious Brodie Thorne would kiss a woman with this knee-weakening intensity that made her want to throw every shred of common sense down the mountainside, crawl right into his lap and stay for a week or so, just learning the mysteries of his clever mouth?
Somehow—she was only vaguely aware of the logistics of it—he shifted their position until she was perched on the edge of the desk and he was standing between her legs. The heat of him was intoxicating. It seeped through her skin, warming all those cold and empty places inside her.
They kissed for a long time and might have continued indefinitely, heedless of Taryn or Mrs. O. or anything else, except a phone suddenly bleated softly between them.
He drew back a little, his eyes murky and aroused and filled with regret. The phone rang again and she scrambled back a little way on the desk. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”
“I don’t think so. Who knows what I might say? I’m not sure I have a functioning brain cell in my head right now.” He paused and gave her a long look. �
��This is going to be a problem, isn’t it?”
She swallowed hard, wanting nothing more than to sink back into him. She had a job to do here, she reminded herself, and it didn’t include kissing her employer until she forgot everything, including her patient.
“Depends how you define problem.”
He sighed and moved away from her, much to her regret.
“I know how much I owe you. What you’re doing with Taryn is amazing. She’s showing real progress and I don’t want to do anything to screw that up.”
“It was only a kiss, Brodie.”
“A pretty spectacular one, as far as kisses go.”
She refused to feel flattered by that. Or so she told herself. “Don’t worry about it. For some reason I don’t quite understand, we happen to have this…vibe…between us. It’s completely insane. I get it.”
“Not completely insane,” he murmured.
“Sorry?”
“You’re a beautiful woman, Evie. I’ve been attracted to you since the day you showed up in Hope’s Crossing.”
“You have not. You hated me when I came to visit your mother the first time!”
“Hate is a strong word. Distrust fits better. I tend to be protective of the people I care about. I was looking out for my mother, wondering at your motives for befriending her. I won’t deny that, but even when I was suspicious of you, that didn’t stop me from having, uh, completely inappropriate thoughts about you. For one thing, I’ve been wondering for months how all that wondrous hair would feel if I ever had the chance to slide my fingers through it.”
She shivered, enthralled by his words even as she knew she ought to tell him to shut up now, while she still had half a chance of walking out of this room without kissing him again. She didn’t, though, and her penance was that he continued to seduce her with those low, murmured words.
“Having you here in my house has only intensified my attraction to you. Not only that, but I’m beginning to see someone even more amazing on the inside. Strong and kind, clever, compassionate, funny. How could any man in his right mind not be dying to kiss you?”
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