Brynn parked her SUV in front of the main steps and turned to him. “It was kind of you to help Mrs. Bickerstaff.”
“She’s an interesting lady.” Rand picked up his laptop from the car floor. “Knows more about the world through her computer than a lot of international travelers.”
Brynn unhooked her seat belt. “Living alone, she finds the Web a good companion.”
“What did she do before the Internet?”
“Worked like an ox. She still has a milk cow and a kitchen garden and her blackberries, but when she was younger, she picked the fruit from her orchards and raised her own crops for market.”
“All that activity must be what keeps her healthy.”
Brynn shook her head and opened the car door. “She attributes her longevity to her daily glass of blackberry wine.”
Rand climbed from the car, slung the strap of his laptop carrier over his shoulder, and joined Brynn on the steps.
“I have a confession,” he said.
She angled her head and looked up at him. The last rays of sunlight glinted in her hair and reflected in the depths of her eyes, and her expression was a mixture of curiosity and concern. “Should I read you your Miranda rights?”
He smiled and shook his head. “I haven’t committed a crime, but it still doesn’t feel right. Mrs. Bickerstaff insisted on paying me.”
Brynn relaxed at his admission. “She would. She’s a very proud and self-reliant woman.”
“But she insisted on paying me my standard rate,” Rand said with a frown. “Said she’d checked with my office.”
“Whoa,” Brynn laughed. “That is a crime. I believe they call it highway robbery.”
“I protested, but she wouldn’t budge. Said she didn’t want special treatment, that I’d earned every penny, especially by making a house call.”
“If the new will sets her mind at ease, you’ve done her a favor,” Brynn said.
“What, no lawyer jokes to cover a situation like this?”
“Lawyer jokes?” Brynn asked with a delightful blush. “Who ratted me out?”
“Eileen.” He shoved his hands deep in his pockets to keep from reaching for her.
“My co-conspirator,” Brynn sighed. “You can blame her for aiding and abetting. She’s always e-mailing new jokes she picks up on the Web.”
“No problem.” Rand shrugged, not taking her choice of humor personally. “Lawyer bashing is as American as apple pie.”
Brynn nodded. “I suppose everyone knows at least one lawyer joke.”
“And for every good lawyer joke,” Rand admitted, “there’s probably at least one bad lawyer.”
Her gaze caught his and her expression sobered. “I’m learning you’re not one of them.”
The warmth in her eyes caused a hitch in his breathing. He knew what she meant, but he wanted to hear her say it. “Not a lawyer?”
“Not a bad lawyer. You’ve really been great, offering to help with Archer Farm’s legal work, doing Mrs. Bickerstaff’s will.”
Her admission flooded him with a satisfying feeling of accomplishment no deal for Steinman, Slagle and Crump had ever provided. “But I’m still a Yankee.”
Brynn grimaced. “Eileen told you about the Yankee jokes, too?”
The old woman had proved a fount of information. “Mrs. Bickerstaff told me everything about you.”
Brynn shook her head. “She’s worse than my aunt Marion.”
Unable to resist another second, Rand grasped her by the shoulders and searched her face. “You say I’m not a bad lawyer. Am I a bad Yankee?”
Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Is there any other kind?”
“Ouch, that hurts.”
Her expression sobered, and she placed her hand over his heart. “Sorry. In your case, maybe I’m willing to make an exception.”
“An exception?” He wanted to kiss her so much, he could taste her, and her floral scent was driving him crazy with need.
Her teasing grin returned. “I’m willing to be lenient and call you simply geographically challenged.”
He placed his hand over hers and pressed it against his chest, ready to pull her close and claim her lips.
Jared’s voice interrupted. “Bwynn! You comed to play wif me!”
Squealing with delight, he slipped out the front door and bounded down the steps. In his excitement, he stumbled and would have fallen if Brynn, with lightning-fast reflexes, hadn’t whirled and scooped him up.
“I promised I would, sweetie. And I never break a promise.”
Rand savored the scene of Brynn with Jared in her arms, their faces close, eyes shining. He could get used to a sight like that, a picture that filled him with contentment and an unaccustomed sense of peace—
Which Lillian immediately shattered when she followed Jared down the steps. “Charles Steinman called this afternoon, Mr. Benedict. Said his message is urgent. He insists you call him at the office first thing in the morning.”
“Thanks, Lillian.” Rand would call Steinman tomorrow, but not with the news his high-powered boss wanted to hear. Not only would Rand concede defeat at obtaining the acreage Farrington desired. He would also announce his intention to resign from the firm.
Brynn had set Jared on his feet, and the boy was tugging her toward the door as fast as his chubby legs would carry him.
“Gots cars, Bwynn,” he was saying. “Lots of ’em.”
Rand shook off thoughts of business and followed Brynn and Jared inside.
BRYNN LAY on her stomach in front of the flickering fire, her face just inches from Jared’s as they pushed Matchbox cars around several feet of figure-eight track she’d assembled earlier.
She glanced over at Rand, who was watching them from the corner of the sectional. “Join us. This is fun. Right, Jared?”
“Wight.” The little boy’s face was scrunched in concentration as he maneuvered his car around the course.
“Sorry,” Rand said. “I’m better off watching.”
“Too old to get down on the floor?” she challenged.
He shook his head. “Just never got the hang of playing.”
She halted the progress of her toy and stared at him in disbelief. “Every kid plays.”
“This one didn’t.”
Leaving Jared to his race, she sat cross-legged and studied Rand’s face, half-hidden in the shadows with the only light in the room coming from the dancing flames in the fireplace.
“You and your brother never played?” she asked.
“We were…closely supervised.”
“By Lillian? I can’t believe she didn’t encourage you to have fun.”
His lips lifted in a sad smile. “Lillian tried to have us play like normal little boys, God bless her. But my parents were very strict. They gave her lists of activities that were acceptable and warned, if she deviated, she’d be fired.”
“Brrrden, brrrden.” Oblivious to their conversation, Jared made motor noises and rolled his car up the plastic ramp.
Brynn’s heart ached for the children Rand and Patrick had been. “What did you do for fun?”
“We rode our ponies, went for sedate walks in the garden, were taken to museums and concerts.” Rand’s voice was devoid of emotion.
“You were brothers. You never wrestled, tumbled on the floor and beat the tar out of each another?” she asked, unable to comprehend the regimen he’d described.
Rand twisted his lips in a wry smile. “We were supposed to be civilized, one of Mother’s favorite words.”
“I didn’t realize rich kids could be so deprived,” Brynn said in astonishment. “Next you’ll tell me you never ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”
“We didn’t.”
She found herself sputtering in surprise. “That’s…un-American.”
His smile held a latent sadness. “My parents are very cosmopolitan.”
More like anal retentive, Brynn thought, but didn’t say it aloud. “Were you unhappy?”
“Patrick an
d I had each other,” Rand said, as if avoiding her real question, “and because we were so isolated, until we were sent to boarding school, we didn’t know what we were missing. Not even then, really. Most of the other boys came from homes like ours. That’s why my parents chose that particular school. It encouraged discipline and decorum.”
Brynn shook her head, remembering her past. “I can’t picture such a childhood.”
“Aiieeee!” Five-year-old Brynn screeched with glee as her father tossed her into the air and caught her in his strong arms, one of their favorite games.
“Do it again, Daddy,” Brynn begged.
“Not now,” Aunt Marion called. “It’s time to eat.”
Her father swung her over his head, and with her legs around his shoulders and her hands clasping his hair, galloped toward the picnic table under the shade of a spreading persimmon tree in the backyard. Lucky followed, barking and running in circles.
Nearby, an ice-filled galvanized tub cooled a watermelon and soft drinks, and the table, spread with a red-checkered cloth, held fried chicken, potato salad, a frosty pitcher of iced tea and Aunt Marion’s famous red velvet cake.
Brynn’s dad shifted her to a seat at the table and heaped her plate with food.
“Can we play s’more after we eat?” Brynn asked.
“After a nap,” her father said.
“But, Daddy, I like to swing—”
“Me, too, pumpkin—” he ruffled her curls with his big hand. “But you have to let your meal settle.”
“And I have a surprise for you after lunch,” Uncle Bud said.
More interested in play than food, Brynn had only picked at her meal, but Uncle Bud had given her a treat anyway, her favorite: a grape Popsicle.
Brynn had found a spot in the sun on the back porch steps and had licked as fast as she could, but she was no match for the mid-July heat. She glanced down to find half the Popsicle had melted, leaving a huge purple stain on her brand-new pink shirt.
“Oh, no!” She glanced to her father, still seated at the table. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“It’s okay, pumpkin.”
“But it’s my new shirt.”
“It’s just a stain,” he said with a laugh. “It’ll come out in the wash. And if it doesn’t, we’ll buy another shirt. Now enjoy the rest of your Popsicle before it melts, too.”
At the memory, Brynn’s heart filled with love for her father. Even though he’d had to raise her alone, he’d made certain her childhood was as normal as possible. She’d roughhoused with friends, made mud pies with Jodie and Merrilee, tromped through the woods and pastures with Lucky, had even been the first girl in Pleasant Valley to play on a Little League baseball team. Rand’s childhood, privileged as it had been, sounded sterile by comparison.
She hopped to her feet, grabbed his hand, and tugged him from the sofa. “It’s never too late.”
“Too late for what?”
She handed him a car and pulled him down beside Jared. “To learn to play. Okay, guys, we’re going to have a NASCAR race. Gentlemen, start your engines!”
For a second, Rand looked as if she’d asked him to jump off a bridge. Then he took a deep breath, blew it out and placed his car next to Jared’s.
“Okay, tiger. Wanna race?”
“Brrrrden, brrrden.”
Rand slithered onto his stomach. “Brrrden, brrden.”
His arms were longer, his reflexes faster, but he let Jared win.
Half an hour later, with Jared asleep in his arms, Rand climbed the stairs to tuck him in while Brynn picked up the track and cars and stowed them in a plastic bin.
In a few minutes, Rand returned. “He’s out like a light.”
“He’s a good kid.”
“The best. I just hope I can give him what he needs.”
“Just love him, spend time with him, and he’ll be fine.”
“Voice of experience?” Rand sank into the sofa and pulled her down beside him.
Brynn shrugged. “That’s what my dad did for me. As far as I know, I don’t have any emotional scars. Although I do wish I’d known my mother. I have only vague memories.”
“Jared’s so young, he may not remember his parents at all.”
“You must have pictures, videos?”
“Only ones that Patrick took.” His expression darkened and pain filled his eyes. “My biggest regret is that I didn’t spend more time with my brother and his family.”
She wanted to smooth the worried creases from his forehead, but didn’t trust herself to touch him, afraid where it might lead. “I’ve heard Gofer tell the Archer Farm boys that you can drive yourself crazy with shoulda, woulda, coulda. He says you have to live for the present and the future.”
“Gofer sounds like a smart man.” His tone was wistful, almost envious.
“You were great with Jared tonight.” Enmeshed in the realization that he still held her hand, she struggled to concentrate on conversation.
“You really think so?” Rand, who’d always seemed so confident and self-assured, sounded vulnerable.
Suddenly tongue-tied with emotions she couldn’t—didn’t want—to name, Brynn nodded.
Rand cupped her face with his hands. “You are amazing.”
White-hot need flared deep in her stomach, like a match touched to dry kindling. She’d been drawn to Rand since the first time she had seen him in the snow on Valley Road. Not only was he extremely easy on the eyes, he’d captivated her with his devotion to his nephew, his many kindnesses toward his neighbors. A powerful and successful man, he’d put his high-powered career on hold to take care of Jared, and he’d done it without complaint. And with a hint of vulnerability that exposed his deep humanity. Unlike other men she’d dated, had even slid between the sheets with, Rand was special.
In spite of herself, she loved him.
But the fire that built in her now was more than love. She blazed with need, a pure lust that longed to translate her feelings into physical form. When his hands moved to her hair, and his fingers combed out her braid and fluffed her curls around her face, her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t tell him to stop. Didn’t want him to stop.
“I’ve never met anyone like you.” Rand’s breath fanned her cheek, and his gaze locked with hers, the brown in his eyes like swirls of melted chocolate, throwing off heat.
“That could be good or bad,” she replied, struggling to breathe past the emotion that clogged her throat.
“Oh, it’s good. It’s very, very good.”
And joining her body with his would be more than good.
It would be commitment, she realized with a jolt as electric as the heat of his hands. And what would she do when he returned to New York? She couldn’t leave the valley. Didn’t belong in the cosmopolitan world he’d come from.
He’d slid his hands beneath her sweater and with a single motion, swept it over her head. She wore nothing beneath but a wisp of lacy bra.
Stop now, before it’s too late, her head warned.
But her heart wasn’t listening, and she wanted him with every cell of her being crying out for his touch. She slipped her hands beneath the rich fabric of his shirt, felt the rapid thud of his heart beneath her palms.
All reason snapped, and lust, wild and wanton, took its place.
His lips claimed hers, and in a frenzied dance, they stripped each other’s clothes while their mouths joined, mingling breath, desire and desperate need. Her hands roamed his nakedness, skimmed the tautness of his muscles, the curve of his buttocks, the hardness of his arousal.
With a guttural moan, Rand scooped her in his arms, carried her to the fireplace, and laid her on the thick sheepskin rug. He arched above her, his body golden in the firelight, passion burning in his eyes.
“Brynn.” He breathed her name like a prayer. “Are you sure?”
She didn’t hesitate. “I’ve never been more certain.”
He shook his head, as if waking from a dream, and bent to kiss her. “Don’t move. I�
��ll be right back.”
He was gone, but the fire warmed her, and in an instant he returned, clasping a foil-wrapped condom. She noted with satisfaction that his hands trembled as he put it on, a reflection of her corresponding shiver of anticipation.
Driven by the hunger that consumed them, they abandoned foreplay and he entered her. Her legs encircled him and their bodies rocked in a primeval rhythm that flooded her with mind-blowing pleasure. The fire beside them mirrored the one inside them—surging, engulfing and carrying them on a wave of heat until they exploded in a conflagration that consumed body and mind.
Later, propped above her on his elbows, Rand gazed into her eyes. “You’re even more amazing than I’d imagined.”
I love you, she thought, but couldn’t voice the words. Love, in her book, was forever. And Rand, no matter how much she cared for him, was only passing through.
He shifted beside her and drew her into his arms with the lean, hard length of his body cuddled against hers. Sated and exhausted from the fervor of their lovemaking, she snuggled against him, savoring the moment.
Oh, lordy, she thought. What have I gone and done?
Chapter Ten
The next morning, Rand awoke and reached for Brynn again. But he was in his own bed, and the other side was empty, even though a hint of floral fragrance clung to the pillow beside him.
Last night had been incredible. He’d had sexual partners before, but never until now, he realized, had he made love to a woman. His first time with Brynn had happened so fast, it was over almost as soon as it had begun. But the second time, here in the soft comfort of his king-size bed with only moonlight and the sound of the river streaming through the open French doors, he’d loved her with the slow, caressing thoroughness that she deserved.
Holding her in his arms afterward had seemed like the culmination of a desire he’d nurtured his entire life, and he hadn’t wanted to let her go.
“Spend the night,” he’d begged.
She shook her head, tickling his nose with her hair. “I have to work an early shift.”
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