“Did you come here a lot before you moved away?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up into a half smile. “Well, not as much as I would’ve liked to since I was underage.”
Murphy’s was one of Celebration’s best-loved spots. It was a casual place where anyone could drop in for a drink or a respectable offering of pub food.
A long wooden bar, staffed by bartenders who had been there since the beginning of time and could mix any drink known to mankind, ran the length of one wall. People were dancing to songs from the sixties, seventies and eighties that drifted from the jukebox in the corner. A couple of pool tables occupied the left side of the room. They always seemed to be in use. Booths and tables filled in the rest of the room.
Sydney spied Aiden shooting pool with Caroline’s husband, Drew, who was the editor-in-chief of the Dallas Journal of Business and Development. For a split second, she wondered if she should go over and see if Aiden was pitching Drew a story about Miles’s arrival. Public relations and dealing with the media was her area of expertise, after all. However, she was off the clock and a little looser from the wine. Even though his arrival would make a good news story—Hometown Boy Who’s Done Well Comes Back to Work on Locally Filmed Show—Aiden could handle it…or it could wait until tomorrow.
She turned her eyes on Miles.
Maybe it was the combination of the wine and exhaustion, but she suddenly felt very relaxed sitting there. Miles had just sat down and she didn’t want to be rude getting up to talk to the press, especially when the press in question was her good friend’s husband. “Did you leave for college right after high school graduation?”
He shook his head. “I joined the army right after I left Celebration.”
“You were in the service?” Sydney asked. The e-encyclopedia hadn’t mentioned that.
He nodded as he took another long draw of his beer.
“How did you go from soldier to scary filmmaker?” The place was noisy and she leaned in a little closer to hear what he had to say.
“I’ve always loved film,” he said. “I even shot when I was on active duty, but then I was injured.”
She thought she’d noticed him walking with a subtle limp. “So, you’re a war hero?”
“That’s stretching it a bit,” he said. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
He didn’t strike her as the type to fake modesty. “What do you mean?”
Everyone else had either gotten up to dance or shoot pool or was engrossed in conversation within their own huddles. The music was so loud, they were sort of in their own little world. It was nice…and intimate.
“It’s a long story,” he said.
“I have all night.”
“Do you?” he asked.
That was a loaded question, and there was something in the inflection of his voice that she could’ve taken all sorts of different ways if she’d wanted to.
Instead, she smiled at him and said, “Relatively speaking.”
“I’ll make a deal with you,” he said. “You tell me where you were this weekend and I’ll tell you about how I was injured.”
As the jukebox switched to a mournful country tune, a guy singing something about wasted days and nights, those who were dancing moved close together and swayed to the rhythm. “Why do my whereabouts on my free time matter?”
“I’m just curious,” he said. “But technically, you were MIA on my watch. Even if it was only a few hours.” The corner of his mouth quirked up in an unexpected touché, and the raw sexual energy that danced between them made her want to reach out and touch him.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, I respect that.” His voice was low and husky and when she looked at him, she thought, bedroom eyes.
She had to look away, or risk getting caught in the magnetic net of this chemistry. Temptation plus wine equaled a whole slew of ways she could get in trouble. Not to mention, she hadn’t even told the girls about her trip to St. Michel.
“So you consider Texas home?” she answered.
Miles shrugged. “I was born and raised here. I haven’t been back in a long time.”
“Do you still have family here?”
“I do. Most of them live here. The Mercers are a big, rowdy brood.”
“Are you close?”
She watched him as he stared at his beer bottle, picking at the edges of the label. “My mom and I are close. She’s really the glue that holds the family together. And my siblings and I stay in touch as much as we can. I’ve got three brothers and two sisters and some of them are married with kids. Everyone is just so darn busy these days. You know? It’s hard for most people to get away—even if it’s just for a long weekend. Maybe they should take lessons from you since you seem to be so good about juggling a career and flying off to parts unknown.”
He had a mischievous glint in his brown eyes. For a moment, the way he was looking at her made her breath catch under her breastbone.
“Okay, it’s obvious you’re not going to let this go, are you?” she said. “So if you must know, I had a job interview. But please keep it between you and me. There’s no sense in getting everyone all excited about it if I don’t get the job.”
She had no idea why she was confiding in him. She’d simply drawn in a breath and the words had spilled out of her mouth before she could contain them, but she’d already spilled the beans. So now she had to live with it.
“Your secret is safe with me,” he said.
“You’re not going to tell? Or even blackmail me?”
“Blackmail’s a great idea,” he teased. “Yes, I’m glad you brought it up because I can definitely use it to my advantage.”
“You do realize there are laws that prevent that type of harassment?”
“Of course. I was thinking more along the lines of trying to find some way to entice you to stay.”
She was leaning in again. Or maybe he was the one who’d moved closer. But there was definitely something going on here. Even though every fiber of good sense in her being told her fooling around with the boss wasn’t a good idea, her libido was wanting no part of playing the good girl.
Chapter Three
Several cars were parked in the suburban cul-de-sac of Miles’s parents’ neighborhood. He stopped the car at the first break in the line of vehicles and parallel parked along the curb. He sat there looking at his childhood home for a moment before he killed the engine.
The last time Miles had come home, the visit had been a disaster.
He drummed his fingers on the dashboard, wondering if this was a mistake. Maybe he should’ve met them out somewhere, on neutral territory.
But no, he was doing this for his mom. For that reason, he reminded himself that this time things would be different. Even if he had to bite a hole in his tongue. Lightly, he closed his teeth around the tip of his tongue as if giving censure a practice drill.
His mom was the peacemaker of the family and deserved better than the scene that had unfolded between Miles and his father the last time Miles had come home for a visit. Five years ago.
He and his dad hadn’t spoken since. Even if Miles couldn’t go back and change what happened on that day, he could take the high road and move forward.
For his mother’s sake.
He unlatched his seat belt and let himself out of the car. The sturdy brick, two-story Colonial, which was surrounded by trees, sat atop a small hill and seemed to be looking down on him as he made his way up the paver-lined driveway. It wasn’t the most fashionable house, especially not compared to some of the homes in Hollywood he’d visited, but it was a family home, warm and inviting, well-kept with a lived-in patina. He had to hand it to his old man. The guy would make sure his yard was manicured if he had to crawl around on all fours to get it done.
Window boxes sported bright red geraniums. There were two white wicker rockers on the front porch that looked as if they’d recently received a fresh coat of paint. A closer look revealed that the seat cushions were fraying, but the pai
nt made the chairs look nice and inviting, even if they weren’t brand new. That was his mom’s handiwork. So was the sunflower wreath on the front door. All these little touches made a person feel welcome and wanted.
If that didn’t sum up the difference in his folks: his dad tended to the practical matters like the lawn, weeding and edging, while his mom added the nice touches that made this middle-class house a home.
When he’d talked to his mom to tell her he’d be back in town, she’d assured him his father would be heartbroken if Miles stayed away.
“Mom, Dad and I haven’t spoken in five years. What makes you so sure he’s so eager to see me now?”
“You just leave everything to me, honey. I’ll deal with your father and he will welcome you as warmly as if nothing ever happened. Trust me.”
That was another thing about his mom: when she got her mind wrapped around something—especially if it had to do with her family—nothing stood in her way. She was a woman of her word. So when she said, “Trust me,” she left no alternative.
As he climbed the brick steps toward the red front door, a calico cat he didn’t recognize sprinted past him, making him do a stutter step so he didn’t step on it. The animal stopped under one of the rockers, eyeing him warily.
“Don’t believe a word he told you about me,” Miles murmured. “It takes two to box.”
Actually, his father had never laid a hand on him in anger. His words had always been his most powerful weapon. It was his military background that made him that way. Miles Mercer III was an army man through and through. He did everything by the book—well, his own interpretation of the book—and expected everyone to conform and follow suit.
Few were brazen enough to dispute him, because when you did, well…you paid the price. In Miles’s case the price was exorbitant: excommunication.
For a moment, he stood there watching the cat watch him, realizing he wasn’t sure if he should knock or walk in. This had been his home for the first eighteen years of his life. At twenty-nine, he’d still spent more time under this roof than anywhere else. But things were different now. As his father had so aptly pointed out the last time Miles had walked out this door—the last time they spoke—this was no longer his home.
He pulled back his hand and landed three sharp raps with his knuckles. In less than ten seconds the door swung open and his mother’s squeal of delight pierced the air.
She threw her arms around him.
“Miles, my baby boy. I cannot believe you are finally home.” She pulled away from him suddenly and held him at arm’s length. “I just want to look at you for a minute. I cannot believe you are finally here.”
Tears made her eyes sparkle.
“Hi, Mom,” he said, unable to suppress a smile. “It’s great to see you.”
She looped her arm through his and walked inside. “Everyone! Everyone! Come here! Miles is home.”
As if someone had opened up the flood gates, about twenty people crowded into the foyer, each of them talking at once and nudging each other out of the way to give Miles hugs, handshakes, high fives and slaps on the back.
His three brothers, Christopher, Grant and Ben, were there. His oldest sister, Patricia, her husband and their four kids were in the mix and over in the corner, he spied his baby sister, Lucy, hanging back from the rambunctious group, studying the display screen on her phone like kids these days tended to do.
She looked up and flashed him a shy smile and gave him a little wave. Miles gave her a salute and she laughed and rolled her eyes.
That’s when he saw it. She wasn’t such a little kid anymore. She had to be what—he quickly did the math in his head—she had to be fifteen years old by now. He’d sent her birthday presents every year, mostly cards with money tucked inside, but he was floored by how the years had stacked up and flown by.
He also noticed that his father was not among the greeting committee. For an instant a thought burned inside him that maybe the old man had skipped out on the occasion. Then Miles took a deep breath, swallowing the bile burning his throat and forced himself not to jump to conclusions. That’s when he realized his mom was cooking something that smelled delicious. He breathed in again, this time letting go of the simmering anger and enjoying the familiar sights and scents of home.
As if reading his mind, his mom asked, “Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” he said. “Whatever you’re cooking smells like exactly what I’m hungry for.”
“Okay, everyone take a step back,” his mom ordered. “Give Miles some room to come inside the house.”
The family obeyed, except for a little girl who looked like a pre-teen, lingering in the foyer looking up at him expectantly.
“You’re not Zoe, are you?” he asked. She beamed up at him, nodding her head.
“Naah, you can’t be Zoe,” Miles teased. “Zoe was just a tiny little girl the last time I saw her. You’re a teenager.” A slight exaggeration, but something told him saying that would make her smile.
“I am Zoe and I’m ten,” she said. “Do you work in the movies?”
“I do.”
“Do you know Justin Bieber? Has he ever been in one of your movies?” Her hazel eyes shone as bright as the sun.
“I hate to disappoint you, but Justin Bieber has never been in one of my movies. I did see him once at an awards show in California.”
Her mouth formed a perfect O.
When she recovered, she asked, “If you ever put him in one of your movies, can I meet him?”
“You’ve got a deal,” Miles said. “If he’s ever in one of my movies, I will make sure your mom brings you out to California to meet him.”
“My mom’s your sister, right?” she asked as they made their way into the family room.
“That’s right,” he said.
“So you’re my uncle, right?”
“Yep, and that makes you my niece.”
“Cool!” she said and ran off to another part of the house, yelling to anyone who would listen that she was going to meet Justin Bieber someday soon.
As Miles made his way into the living area, he glanced in the open door of the office, which was located between the family room and kitchen. There he glimpsed his father at the desk concentrating hard over notes he was making on a yellow legal pad. Miles hesitated, wondering if he should go in and say hello, but mostly hoping his father would look up, see him standing there, and break this insidious wall of ice that had stood between them since they’d last exchanged words.
Before Miles could say anything, his brother Ben came up to him, clapping him on the back. “Hey, Mr. Hollywood, it’s about time you came home. Come over here, I want to introduce you to my fiancée.”
What? With one last glance at his father, who was still presumably caught up in his work, as if nothing were going on outside of the ordinary day-to-day grind, Miles followed his brother into the kitchen where a pretty blonde was talking to his mom and making a salad.
“You’re getting married?” he asked.
“We are,” Ben said. “Miles, this is Jeanie, my future wife.”
The blonde beamed as she wiped her hands on a dish towel, held up her left hand to show off the modest diamond on her ring finger, and then enfolded Miles in a hug.
“Congratulations,” Miles said, suddenly realizing that life in Celebration had indeed been speeding on without him. Not that he expected things to come to a screeching halt, but having been away for five years, the differences were more pronounced—children were growing up, his younger siblings were getting married and making lives of their own.
“When did this happen?” he asked.
“Two weeks ago,” said Jeanie.
“Have you set a date?” Miles asked.
“Not yet,” said Ben. “We wanted to talk to you to see when you thought you might be available. You’re going to be my best man, right?”
“O-of course,” Miles stammered. “You just tell me when and I’ll be there.”
One of the oth
er nieces, Ivy, came and got Jeanie to turn one of the jump-rope handles in a tournament she and the other kids were having on the porch.
“Well, sweetie, I’m helping your grandma get dinner on the table,” she said.
“Oh, no, you go on and play with the kids. I’ll finish up here,” Deena said.
Jeanie thanked Deena and flashed Miles an apologetic smile. “I’m going to play with them, but we will talk more about the wedding later, okay?”
“Of course,” Miles said as his brother’s fiancée, allowed the little girl to lead her away. Fiancée. The reality that his little brother was engaged blew him away. He couldn’t quite get his mind wrapped around it.
“We just love Jeanie,” his mom said. “We would love it if you would settle down, too. No pressure, though.”
For some reason Sydney James’s face flashed through Miles’s mind—the way she looked last night in the dim light of Murphy’s as she sipped her wine and spilled her secret about the job interview with that accent that made him more than just a little hot and restless. He intended to keep her secret, but he also intended to entice her to stay. She was exactly what Catering to Dallas needed and somehow he would convince her that she needed them just as much.
“Are you staying for game night, Uncle Miles?” asked his sister’s oldest daughter, Sally. “We usually have game night on Saturday night, but it’s a special occasion since you’re here and Grandma said we could have game night tonight. Will you stay? Pleeease?”
“We’ll see,” Miles answered. “Sounds like fun.”
Saturday night family game night was another long-standing tradition in the Mercer household. Miles was glad to see it still prevailed. Back in the day, his friends used to come over and hang out. Sometimes they’d stay over. His mom prided herself on providing the kids with a place where they were all comfortable. His dad had been on active duty back then, on assignment wherever the army sent him. He petitioned for assignments at Fort Hood—or as close as possible—and sometimes he got them. But when his dad had been sent to places far away, his mother had been adamant about maintaining a normal life for her kids, giving them a permanent home base. Looking back, it seemed like their father was away more than he’d been home. Miles wondered how a marriage could’ve survived under those circumstances. Then again, his parents were built for the long haul. That’s just how his folks operated.
Harlequin Special Edition July 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2: Marooned with the MaverickHer McKnight in Shining ArmorCelebration's Bride Page 40