Beefcake & Mistakes

by Fennell, Judi

  Published by Mergenie Books

  Copyright 2012 Judi Fennell

  Cover and interior design by http://www.formatting4U.com

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author at JudiFennell@JudiFennell.com. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  For more information on the author and her works, please see www.JudiFennell.com

  This book is also available in print from online retailers.

  To my children

  This is for you. Always.

  Table of Contents

  Beefcake & Mistakes

  Excerpts:

  Beefcake & Cupcakes

  Beauty and The Best

  About the Author

  Other Books

  Chapter One

  He had a son.

  Bryan Lassiter stood at the end of the grocery store aisle and stared at the little boy three feet in front of him.

  The curly black hair was the same, including the identical cowlick above the right eye that drooped a little lower than the left, and the same dimple in his right cheek. The eyes, too, were the same. Those damned, cursed violet eyes that Bryan had hated ever since Julie Richardson had called them pretty in first grade. Him and Elizabeth Taylor.

  And now this boy.

  And if those weren’t enough, it was the birthmark on the kid’s arm that sealed the deal. Bry had the same one, shaped like a five-pointed star with a rounded tip on the bottom right spoke. Bryan had eventually had a tattoo put on top of it—in the shape of a star—but it was the same.

  He had a son.

  “Trevor? Where are you?” A pretty brunette rushed around the end cap, worry etched across her face. It softened when she saw the boy—the exact opposite of Bryan’s reaction.

  He didn’t know her.

  Oh, he’d slept with a lot of women in his life, but he did pride himself on remembering what they’d looked like, no matter how drunk he’d been—

  No. That wasn’t entirely true. Brad’s bachelor party had passed by in one drunken haze and there could have been a stripper involved…

  Considering Brad’s party had been four years ago, and the kid looked to be about three or so… Yeah, it looked like it was more than possible, though he’d never been so drunk he hadn’t worn a condom.

  Which have been known to break.

  Hell. Given that the kid looked like every one of his baby pictures, one night of debauchery and bad luck could have led to him having a son.

  “Sweetheart, I told you never to run away from Mommy. This isn’t the place to play hide-n-seek.”

  Bryan’s eyes flew to “Mommy.” About five-six, with curly brown, chin-length hair that she kept tucking behind her ears but which wouldn’t stay, high cheekbones, and wide eyes—blue or gray, he couldn’t be sure. Graceful movements of a dancer that would be lost in a strip joint, but the legs that went on forever definitely wouldn’t be.

  Had they been wrapped around him? Bryan felt himself grow hard just thinking about it.

  But then he looked at Trevor and his whole body got hard. If that little boy was his, she’d kept him from him.

  Did she even know who the father was?

  “I sowwy, Mommy.” Trevor stuck his thumb in his mouth and Bryan was even more convinced the boy was his.

  Lots of kids sucked their thumb, but it was the way Trevor played with his cowlick—just like Bryan had. Until his finger had gotten caught in the tangles and his older brother Kyle had laughed at him. Mom had had to cut his finger free and that spike of hair at the front of his head had been one more thing for Kyle to tease him about. It’d been the last time Bryan had sucked his thumb.

  “Yes, well, you scared me, honey. I don’t want anyone to take you from me, okay? You have to stay with me.” Mommy knelt down and hugged Trevor, the action tugging her figure-hugging tan pants low in the back.

  No tramp stamp, so at least he’d had some taste in women when he was drunk. Even strippers.

  Bryan shook his head. He of all people shouldn’t judge her. He’d done some stripping in his day and now owned an exotic dance revue, BeefCake, Inc. But he and his partner Gage ran a classy business and No Fraternization was the top rule of the house. Too bad she hadn’t prescribed to the same rule.

  “Why would someone take me, Mommy?” Trevor stopped twirling his hair with a lock swirled around his finger.

  Mommy smoothed a ring-less left hand over Trevor’s hair, disengaging the tangled finger, then slid her palm down to cup his cheek. “Because you’re a very special boy, Trevor. That’s why I love you so much. So you need to stay with me at all times and not run away, okay? Even if you’re playing.”

  Trevor nodded and Bryan felt as if he were looking in a mirror. “But why am I vewy special?”

  She pulled him against her and kissed his cheek. “Because you’re my little guy.”

  Bryan’s vantage point gave him the perfect view of the fierceness of her expression when she said it, the quick tightening of her bicep beneath the short sleeve of her t-shirt as she hugged him. She loved the kid. But obviously not enough to give him the father he deserved.

  Bryan had half a mind to tell her that, but supermarket aisles weren’t exactly the best place for airing dirty laundry. He checked the time on his cell. An hour and a half until the meeting with Gage.

  He slid his sunglasses on and pulled the baseball cap rim lower. He could hang around for a while. Follow her to see where she lived—and then plan when would be the best time to show up and discuss his fatherly rights.

  ***

  Jenna Corrigan hugged her son and tried to will her heart to stop thundering. God, she’d thought she’d lost him.

  Three years since he’d become hers, and she still hadn’t gotten over the feeling that somehow, some way, he’d be taken from her. And she didn’t mean by a stranger.

  What if the father came back? What if he wanted his son?

  Jenna squeezed her eyes tighter, hugged Trevor closer until he started to squirm and she had to let him go. Ah, to be so carefree.

  That’s what she had to focus on, not the fact that the guy who’d impregnated her sister and then skipped out might want to take on the responsibility he’d run from. Besides, she and Mindy had gone to a lawyer before her sister’s cancer had progressed to the terminal stage and they’d done the paperwork so that when the end had inevitably come, there’d been no glitch making Trevor hers.

  “Can I have some ice cweam?” Trevor slurped around his thumb.

  Jenna smiled. If only all of life’s ills could be made better with ice cream. “Sure, honey. What flavor?”

  “Wocky Woad. It’s my favowite.”

  This week. Last week it’d been peppermint stick.

  Jenna released him from her hug, her body instantly craving his closeness again. She hadn’t carried him in
side her, but she might as well have. She’d slept with him every night for the first three months after Mindy’s death—more for her comfort than his.

  She stood up and put all thoughts of that from her mind. This was her life now. Trevor was her life. She had to go on. She would go on.

  She reached out her hand. “Let’s go pick some out then, kiddo.”

  “Okay, Mommy.” Wet fingers slid into her palm and Jenna wouldn’t have it any other way.

  They headed down the aisle and Jenna caught the smile on a man’s face as he averted his head, the rim of the baseball cap obscuring his eyes. He’d been listening in. Probably a father himself, if that wry grin was anything to go by. Knew the relief she’d felt at realizing her child wasn’t gone.

  As always, the thud in her stomach hit with excruciating pain and Jenna paused for half a step behind the man. Would that feeling ever go away?

  “Can I have chocwate, too?” Trevor, as always, pulled her back to the present. A place that was so much better to be than their past.

  “There’s chocolate in Rocky Road, Trev. Bits and pieces.”

  “Oh. Okay.” His thumb went back into his mouth and he switched to her other side, the fingers that normally swirled his hair now gripping her hand. She should probably work on getting him to quit the thumb-sucking, but giving up a comfort thing went against the grain with her. She knew, first hand, how important comfort things were.

  Especially when life could be a little too tough without them.

  Chapter Two

  “Come on, Trevor, it’s time for your nap.” Jenna pulled the stuffed sock monkey from between the sofa and the chair, thanking St. Anthony and whoever else was responsible for her finding it. Naptime did not go well without Mr. Monkey.

  “I don’t wanna.”

  Didn’t look like naptime was going to go well now, regardless. Jenna sighed. Naps were getting tricky these days; Trevor wasn’t into wanting them and Jenna wasn’t into wanting to stop them. She needed these precious two hours for work. Single parenthood wasn’t conducive to establishing a career, but Jenna had been lucky when she’d moved back to not only find her teaching position, but also have it be at a school that had daycare. But that daycare wasn’t free, so her summer tutoring sessions had to make up the difference. For the past two years, she’d scheduled the sessions during Trevor’s nap, but next year she was going to have to come up with something else, which would involve paying a babysitter, money she didn’t necessarily want—or have—to spend. She couldn’t rely on her friend Cathy’s help all the time.

  “Come on, Trevor. You can have some ice cream when you wake up.” She hated resorting to bribery. If only she could ask her mother—

  No. That option was out. Ellen had given her enough grief about having Trevor to begin with. Jenna hadn’t told her mother the truth about Trevor’s parentage because Mindy was actually her half-sister, the result of the affair that had ended her parents’ marriage. Ellen, as she preferred Jenna to call her—and as Jenna preferred to call her—would have relished the idea that Mindy had had an out-of-wedlock child and been more than happy to tell anyone who’d listen what a tramp the girl had been. So Jenna hadn’t told her.

  “Trevor, come on.” She and Mr. Monkey headed into the kitchen to remove a recalcitrant little boy from behind the trashcan and into his “big boy” bed where he belonged. Now if he’d only stay.

  She hunkered down by his hiding spot. “Mommy needs you to be a big boy and take your nap. And Mr. Monkey is tired.” She waggled the toy in front of him, but Trevor wasn’t taking the bait.

  “Big boys don’t take naps,” he grumped, wedging himself tighter against the wall. “Only babies take naps. Michael says so.”

  Jenna bit back her retort. Michael was an authority on anything and everything according to her son. Of course, Michael was only four, but that didn’t matter to Trevor. Jenna got the “Michael Report” every day when she picked her son up from daycare. “Michael did this,” and “Michael did that.” Nine times out of ten, however, it was more along the lines of “Michael kicked the teacher,” or “Michael broke Rebecca’s crayon,” instead of any great revelation from the learned, four-year-old sage. Michael sounded like he needed a lot of therapy.

  “Michael is wrong, Trevor.”

  Oops, wrong tactic. As far as Trevor was concerned, Michael was God.

  “I don’t wanna.” He stuck his thumb in his mouth and started slurping.

  Jenna glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes until Jason got here. If it were any of the other students, Jenna could maybe try to settle Trevor in front of television to keep him occupied, but the little boy idolized Jason. He always barraged the teen with a hundred questions about his “cool” truck. The orange-and-red-striped clunker wasn’t much in the way of mechanical ability, but to a three-and-a-half-year-old truck nut, it was “cool.” Jason was a good sport about it, but he had to take the SATs in the fall, and they really needed to focus today before football camp started.

  “Trevor, you have to take a nap. It’s your job, remember? Just like Mommy has a job, you have a job, too.”

  “Wike Michael’s daddy? He wears a tie. Can I wear a tie?”

  So Michael was good for something. His daddy.

  Jenna couldn’t ignore that twinge of pain now any more than she could the one earlier. But she couldn’t think about Carl. He obviously hadn’t been the man she’d thought when he’d dumped her because she was adopting a baby.

  Trevor didn’t need men like him in his life. And neither did she.

  Still, the guilt that, somewhere, Trevor did have a daddy wouldn’t go away. Mindy just hadn’t known who that daddy was. A big, cold INFORMATION NOT RECORDED graced that line of Trevor’s birth certificate.

  Would the father care about Trevor? Want him, maybe?

  And what if he did? What if he came back and took her to court? Would a judge recognize her rights?

  It was a question Jenna never wanted to have to answer.

  She got Trevor into bed with the promise of buying him and Mr. Monkey ties when they woke up, then hurried down to the dining room she’d converted into an office-slash-classroom. A far cry from the house she and Carl had been looking at, complete with its own playroom for their kids, before Carl had called off their engagement. Fiancé , big home, now her living room… she’d sacrificed a lot for the good of the toys.

  And, yet, when she looked around at the primary-colored chaos, she wasn’t sorry in the least. Well, that she’d had to sacrifice the living room. Carl, on the other hand…

  She was sorry he hadn’t been the man she’d thought he was.

  The doorbell rang and Jenna winced. Jason knew not to ring the bell.

  She listened at the bottom of the stairs, but there wasn’t a peep out of Trevor. Thank goodness.

  She hurried to the door and opened it, fully prepared to remind Jason exactly why he shouldn’t ring the bell, but Jason wasn’t standing there.

  A man was. Or rather, the man was. The one from the grocery store. She would recognize that build, and that delicious aroma of soap and him, anywhere. And the baseball cap, too.

  “Can I help you?”

  The man gave her the once-over. Not that she could tell since his eyes were covered by his sunglasses, but it was more of a feeling. Every part of her tingled as he perused her.

  That was ridiculous. She couldn’t see his eyes, so how did she know when they reached which part of her body?

  And what was she doing even thinking about it in the first place?

  And, more importantly, what was he doing looking?

  “Is there something you need? I’ve got a student coming over in less than ten minutes, so you’re going to have to make this quick.”

  “You give lessons? That’s a twist.” His voice hovered somewhere above bass but below tenor—and vibrated along her spine like an orchestra. He didn’t need to stare at her to get her attention.

  And the way he filled out his t-shirt kept her attention. />
  Oh, for Pete’s sake. She wasn’t sixteen anymore. She was a mom and she had a client coming over, so Mr. Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous needed to hurry up and leave. “I’m sorry—what did you say?”

  “What’s your going rate?”

  He wanted her to tutor his kid? Kind of a rude way to go about asking. But she could use the money so beggars couldn’t be choosers. Not in this house.

  “Forty dollars an hour.” Competitive, but not unaffordable.

  “How much?” Obviously he didn’t agree. “Are you kidding me? Forty bucks?” He shook his head. “Lady, you need to have some standards.”

  “Look… Sir. I do have all the standards the state requires. I can’t guarantee results, but my clients have recommended me to their friends, so I must be doing something right.” Jason’s truck pulled up at the curb. “Look, I have to go.” She grabbed one of her cards from the key shelf next to the door. “Here. Take this, think it over, and call me. We can work something out.”

  “Hey, Ms. C. You doin’ okay?” Jason gave the requisite chin nod to Tall, Dark, and Gloomy as he climbed the stairs to her porch, the weathered oak creaking under the muscle of a seventeen-year-old who wasn’t banking his future on getting a football scholarship but was definitely working toward that goal.

  “Everything’s fine, Jason. Ready for your session?” She stepped back to let Jason in, then gave the man a smile. “I look forward to speaking with you.” She started to close the door.

  The guy slammed a hand against it, effectively halting its momentum, and his other hand grabbed her arm. “What are you doing? That kid’s not even eighteen!”

  Half her senses registered the anger in his voice; the other half registered something entirely different.

  Her skin… sizzled where it met his. Sizzled. She was surprised she couldn’t hear the spit and fizz or smell smoke, but that was most definitely fire between them.