Man of the Month (Willowdale Romance Novel)

by Scott, Lisa

  “So, I need to get moved in by Monday. I’m going to leave the place mostly furnished, except for my bedroom stuff, so I don’t have much to bring over.”

  “Whenever you need is fine with me. Let me grab the spare key for you.” She pulled out the set of keys from behind her flour canister and set them in his hands.

  He wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed. “Just ’til we’re back on our feet.” He pulled her close and kissed her cheek, his hand pressed against the small of her back.

  How could such an intimate position feel nothing but friendly?

  “Let me go pack up my stuff. I’ll be back later.”

  LIVING WITH Brad was harder than she’d imagined. How often did he have to walk around without a shirt on? Like that time at work hadn’t been bad enough. It should be illegal, really, with abs like his. The man needed to do laundry more often, so he could stay clothed while his shirts were drying.

  But that wasn’t the worst of it. They ate dinner together, taking turns cooking and doing the dishes. They tried new recipes and split cartons of Ben and Jerry’s, their spoons clinking together as they battled over the clusters of cookie chunks in the Milk ‘N Cookies. They shared popcorn on the couch, watching movies. It was like they were a couple—without the good stuff.

  “You aren’t just playing with fire, you’re doing the forbidden dance with it,” Tonya told her over lunch.

  It was three weeks into Jeanne’s roommate-without-the-romance-routine with Brad.

  “It only took me a week alone with Teague before all hell broke loose in my heart. I don’t know how you’re managing so well, so far,” Kate said.

  Tonya’s eyebrow shot up. “Wait, have you two …” She let the suggestion hang there.

  “No! We’re—”

  “—just friends,” Tonya and Kate said together.

  “But you won’t be for long living under the same roof,” Tonya said. “It’s like that bumper sticker of mine—‘Pickup Truck Rules: Put out or Get out.’”

  “Nobody’s actually bought that one for their truck yet,” Kate said.

  “I know. I’ll give ’em all to Jeanne. She can plaster them around her house.”

  Jeanne growled under her breath and waved over Rita for another slice of pie.

  “Darlin’ this is your own pie you’re ordering. Why not make some for yourself at home?”

  “I need it now.”

  Rita shrugged and quickly returned with another slice. It was going to take an entire bakery to get her through the next few weeks. She’d already had to buy a few pairs of elastic-waist pants to deal with her therapy-through-pastry plan.

  “Listen, my stepfather is still off chasing his Hollywood dream with Teague’s old agent. We’ve got an entire wing of our house empty.” Kate shrugged. “You wanna move in with us?”

  Jeanne shook her head. “I’ll tough it out. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  IT WAS A Friday night, and she and Brad should have been fretting that they didn’t have a party to cater. But it was hard to fret with her best friend and dream guy in the house. She popped a bag of popcorn, dimmed the lights, and snuggled up next to him on the couch to watch a movie. It was becoming a Friday night ritual. Sighing, she nestled her head against his shoulder, and he put his arm around her. She was redefining the meaning of fool each and every day she continued like this, but there it was.

  He leaned closer to her and nudged her ear with his nose. “Isn’t it time for the talk?”

  She froze. About what? How close they’d been getting? How wrong this was? How she wanted more? Her heart pinged at that. “Talk about what?”

  “Mr. May,” he whispered in her ear.

  She dropped her head back and laughed quietly. “Listen, it’s time to give up the good fight, Brad. I’m done.”

  He let out a long sigh. “Jeanne …”

  She sat up and pressed her finger against his mouth. “Quiet. You found me a great guy last month, and I wasn’t interested. I don’t think there’s any more you can do.”

  He pushed her finger away and curled it in his hand. “I just haven’t found the right guy for you yet. Let me keep trying. I’ve got someone in mind.”

  “I do appreciate your efforts. You’re actually kind of anal about the whole thing, but …”

  “What?”

  She shook her head, then tried sucking up a bit of courage. It was now or never. “You know.” She forced herself to look at him, so he could see the truth in her eyes, because it was too hard to say the words.

  Their gazes locked, then he looked away, probably focusing on the dust covering the blinds. “Jeanne, we’ve been over this.” His voice was husky.

  He was still holding her hand, and she rubbed her thumb across his palm. “I can’t help how I feel. If you want to stick with your resolution, then let’s just say I’m with Mr. May right now.” She looked up at him. “You’re my perfect guy.” The words came out in a whisper.

  He sighed and bent his forehead down to hers. They said nothing. The want and need hung between them like one of those huge stuffed bears at the county fair that people lose big money trying to win, always without success. Just hanging there, taunting both of them, and if either one of them had an ounce of smarts, Jeanne thought, they’d bat it away, clear across the room.

  But they didn’t.

  She tipped her head up so their lips met, and he didn’t hesitate taking her mouth with his. He wrapped his hand around the back of her head, and tears pricked her eyes as a rush of passion surged in her chest like a rogue wave. He rose to his knees and pressed her back against the arm of the couch.

  He pulled back from their kiss, and she panicked, certain he was going to stop and remind her how silly and wrong this was. But he just gazed down at her, and ran his finger down her cheek.

  “Damn. You’re so beautiful.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat and pulled him down on top of her, resuming their kiss, hungrier this time. She shushed the voice in her brain reciting all the reasons this was a bad, bad idea, and enjoyed the moment. They’d sort it out the next day. Or maybe … maybe it could be something more.

  With that thought, she wrapped one leg around his thigh and bucked against him. He sucked in a breath.

  Then he climbed off her.

  “Brad?”

  He scooped her off the couch, holding her tight against his chest. The thrum of his heart thudded against her cheek as he strode across the room. He kicked open the door to her bedroom and walked to the bed where he kissed her and lowered her onto the twisted sheets. Zippers hissed open, and clothes found their way to the floor. Sucking in a breath was nearly impossible the way her heart pounded.

  This is really happening.

  He came to her and slid his hand up her stomach, over her bra. She kissed the dimple in his chin, and then he snagged her swollen bottom lip with his teeth. Their tongues got all tangled up again, along with her thoughts.

  Her brain knew she should be protesting, but her heart was gloating that it finally was getting what it wanted. Brad. Brad, Brad, Brad.

  He unhooked her bra and moved his mouth to her hardened nipple, running his tongue over the nub. Moaning, she writhed underneath him, and he steadied her hips with one hand.

  “I’ve waited too long for this to rush it. You’re going to have to wait.”

  He moved down from her breast to her stomach, and then further where he tugged and teased and taunted her with his tongue through her panties. She weaved her fingers through his hair and hung on for dear life. He pulled the silky material off and continued the torture. And just as she was ready to give in to the exquisite pressure threatening to explode, Brad pulled away from her.

  She whimpered.

  “Patience, Jeanne. You know we have to be careful.” He patted the ground for his wallet, snatched it up, and pulled out a condom.

  Right. No babies. Ever. Her nagging thoughts popped back up, ready to ruin the fun, but luckily Brad was back in her a
rms. She was ready for him to ravage her, but he paused to run his hands through her hair. He smiled.

  She propped up on her elbows. “What?”

  “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined this. Played this scenario out in my mind.” He fanned her hair out on the pillow behind her and curled a strand around his finger. “Your hair all spread out on my bed. You smiling up at me.”

  “You think I haven’t done the same thing? Every day? That short time we dated, we never got to the good stuff.” She sucked in her breath. “Are you sure about this?”

  He nodded. “You?”

  “Yes.” She wasn’t, though. Because she didn’t know what the next day would bring. But she’d probably die if she didn’t find out. “I’m sure that I need you right now.” She wrapped her hand around him and snaked her fingers along his taut back, pulling him on top of her.

  He kissed her, nudged her legs open with his knee, and he was hers.

  She cried out and rode a wave of ecstasy and agony, knowing she might never have this again. She answered his thrusts, arching her hips against him, feeling like she couldn’t take him in far enough. Images of their bodies melded together seared her brain.

  It happened faster for both of them than she’d have liked. Years of longing can do that to a person. He shouted her name, and she shuddered beneath him, coming with him into that amazing place she thought they’d never have. He fell on top of her panting and laughing, and wrapped his arms around her. They lay like that for a while, saying nothing.

  Then Brad got up and went to the bathroom. She panicked that he might be going to sleep in his own bedroom, leaving her. But he came back, folded her into his arms, and they drifted off together.

  She was going to be really angry if she woke to find this had just been a dream.

  BRAD OPENED his eyes to a vision. Jeanne, curled up beside him, her arm flung over his back. If he could wake to this every morning, he’d be the luckiest man in North Carolina. Hell, in North America. If there was any doubt how he felt about her, last night had sealed the deal. He loved her and wanted her. Forever. He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek, and her eyelids fluttered.

  She smiled. “You’re still here.”

  “’Course I am. Where’d you think I’d go?” He leaned forward to kiss her softly on the lips. “Plus we live together now. I don’t have anywhere to go.”

  He winked at her. If he had it his way, he’d never be moving out.

  She pressed her lips against his and wrapped her hand around the back of his head. “Now this is a great way to wake up,” she said, when she stopped for a breath.

  “I was thinking the same thing. And I was also thinking we should have done this a long time ago.” He rubbed his thumb along her cheekbone and tucked her hair behind her ear.

  “I’m just wondering why we haven’t already done it again.”

  She looped her leg around his, and all systems were fired up, ready to go. He slid his hand down her back, hugging her bottom in his hands. She was warm and soft and wonderful, and she was right where she belonged. With him.

  “Should we pick up where we left off?” she asked, nipping at his lip while pressing her chest against his.

  He held up a finger. “Hold that thought.” He rolled off her and leaned over the side of the bed, looking for his wallet and another condom. He couldn’t find it, so he crawled out of bed, surveying the floor with his hands on his hips, like a naked general wielding one hell of a weapon. She had quite an effect on him.

  He felt Jeanne reaching for him, brushing her fingers along his skin. Along his lower back. Along one of his scars. It had faded over the years, but three pale ridges remained arced across the top of his rear.

  “Brad? What’s this?” Her voice sounded pained, like she already knew the answer.

  He didn’t answer.

  She pulled her hand away. “What happened there?” She swallowed her words.

  He still said nothing as he reached down and scooped up his wallet, sticking out from under the bed. He opened it, searching through the section where he normally stashed his condoms. Not that he used them often.

  “Brad? Answer me.”

  “Shit.” The curse served double duty. He was out of condoms, and he certainly didn’t want to talk about the marks on his back.

  She sat up and crossed her arms. “You’re not going to tell me.”

  He couldn’t look at her. It wasn’t something you noticed in the dark. Even in a dim room. But in the bright morning light, he was sure it was quite visible. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought about it in a long time. “Shit.”

  She reached for his hand. He pulled away.

  “I don’t have another condom.” He threw his wallet to the ground, sat on the bed and rubbed his neck.

  Jeanne dropped her head back onto the pillow and groaned. “Brad, I need you. I want you.”

  One glance south, and it was pretty obvious he was feeling the same way. There was no hiding that. But he shook his head. “I can’t take the chance.”

  She strapped her arms across her chest and pouted. “Just pull out before things get too far. What are the chances? Nothing will happen.”

  “You saw those scars on my back. Those might happen.”

  She tilted her head and scrunched her brows together.

  He was wrong. She hadn’t figured it out. Well, she needs to know. She needs to know what I could be capable of.

  “That was the time the screen door got broken.”

  Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “Your father did that because you broke a door?”

  “Actually, Mitch broke it. But Dad was madder than usual, and Mitch was just a kid. I was thirteen and knew I’d fare better than a six-year-old, so I took the blame.”

  Jeanne choked back a sob and reached out for his hand. He pushed her away. “Wrong day for a broken door. He used more than his hands that day.”

  “Oh,” she whispered, covering her mouth with her hand. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea how bad things were for you.”

  Tears brimmed in her eyes, and he hated himself for letting her into his hell. But she had to know. He frowned and nodded. “And who’s to say I wouldn’t do the same thing?” He pressed a hand against his chest. “That’s probably lurking inside me, too.”

  She slammed her hands on her quilt. “You’re not like your father. You’re not. You wouldn’t do that. No.”

  He reached for her hand and squeezed. “He wasn’t that way, either. Not at first. Not until my mother died. Who’s to say something wouldn’t send me over the edge, too?” He shook his head. “Sorry, Jeanne. I want you. God, how I want you. But I can’t risk it.” He let her hand go and left the bed, nervous he wouldn’t be able to resist her. “I can’t.” He shook his head. He knew they were talking about more than another romp. “I can’t make that kind of mistake.” He grabbed his boxers off the floor and pulled them on.

  She curled her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees. “A miracle like that between you and me could never be a mistake.”

  He let out a growl of frustration. “What, did you think I was kidding about all this? One incredible night in the sack would change everything I’ve been telling you for years?” He shook his head and planted his hands on his hips. “I can’t risk being a lousy father.”

  She dropped her head onto her knees and started crying.

  He walked over and sat on the bed next to her. He toyed with a piece of hair falling over her shoulder. He took a breath and lowered his voice. “Why can’t you change your mind? How do you know we couldn’t have a happy life together, just the two of us? There’ll be plenty of nieces and nephews between our two families.”

  He was pleading. He never pleaded. Damn.

  Jeanne rolled over, facing the wall, and pulled the blanket around her like a shield. A shield from him. The crying got worse.

  Hell, what a huge mistake this had been, making love to her. “Jeanne …” He rubbed her back through the soft material, uncert
ain what to say.

  “I understand,” she said through her sniffles. “I really do. It’s not going to work.”

  His hand stilled on her back, and he sat there wishing he had the words to argue back. But she was right.

  He pulled on his jeans, ready to leave, but remembered he was living with her now. Double hell. Didn’t matter, though. He had to get out of there. He got dressed, grabbed his jacket and keys, and went out driving with no particular destination in mind. Just away.

  Chapter 13

  JEANNE LET HERSELF cry in bed for half an hour. How was she falling deeper and deeper in love with a man she couldn’t have? Who didn’t want the same things? And she understood. After seeing what his father had done to him … She shivered, remembering it. Brad had been terribly hurt—emotionally and physically—and didn’t want to do the same thing. Her heart ached for him, and she finally understood. It wasn’t going to happen. She had to respect his decision no matter how she felt.

  Lordy, she was ridiculous. Maybe her sister was right. Maybe she purposely fell for someone she could never have. She threw her pillow against the wall and set her bare feet on the cold wooden floor. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms and headed for the shower. No way could she wash away the memory of Brad, but she had to do something—and fast.

  The spray of water hit her like an insult. She lathered up her hair like she might be able to wash some sense into her head. How was she going to get over him?

  Then it hit her. Setting her up with a man hadn’t worked, but maybe if she found someone for him, she’d be forced to give up. As long as Brad was on the market, she was going to be miserable. No, that wasn’t totally true, she thought. She’d be miserable if he was with someone, too. But at least there wouldn’t be a repeat of the night before. That, she could not handle again. Not without breaking her heart forever, utterly and completely.

  She stepped out of the shower and dried off, thinking. Who did she know that she could set up with Brad? Who was good enough for him? She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

  No one’s good enough for Brad.