Checkered Past

by Abby Gaines

  “If rudeness and arrogance are the values your team embodies…” Brian said ominously to Chad.

  Brianna released Chad long enough to kiss her father’s cheek, then towed him toward the door. Chad said a hasty goodbye over his shoulder.

  Two minutes later they were on the road. Neither of them spoke until they were on the interstate. Chad was still kicking himself for having screwed up the chance to get Brianna’s father on his side.

  As they passed Atlanta’s city limit, Brianna said, “I thought you’d be pleased to have me off the project.”

  “So did I.”

  She fidgeted, briefly drawing his attention to her slim fingers and his mind back to the feel of them against his bare skin. How could he remember that so clearly?

  “So why did you convince him I should stay?” she asked.

  He flicked his turn signal and passed a truck. “For someone so keen to tell me what I do wrong with my family, you’re not smart when it comes to your own dad.”

  “My dad’s difficult,” she said.

  “You told me this was a chance to connect with him, then you ran at the first sign of trouble. You can’t make a connection if you quit.”

  “I’ve been trying for years,” she protested.

  Sudden rain pelted the windshield, and Chad concentrated on trying to see through it. If the rain didn’t stop, the journey home would likely be longer than the trip down. He really didn’t need to spend any more time cooped up with Brianna.

  Neon lights drew his attention; he pulled in at a service area diner. “We never got to eat. Let’s grab something here.”

  BRIANNA FOLLOWED Chad into the diner. Anyone would think today was the national Expose Brianna’s Faults Day. First Chad’s accusations of bias, and now this. Did she run the moment it looked as if things might not pan out with her dad?

  Of course, she did. That was how their relationship worked.

  Was there a better way?

  They sat in a red vinyl booth by the fogged-up window. The previous occupant had drawn a heart with an arrow through it in the condensation.

  Chad pulled the menus out of their holder, passed one to Brianna. “I don’t know how ill your father is…” He paused, but she didn’t fill in the gap. If she told him her dad might have only a couple of months to live, he’d feel awful about the argument he’d just had. “But I know that if you have things to tell him, you shouldn’t wait. I learned that when Dad had his heart attack.”

  “Tell me what happened,” Brianna said.

  He pushed the salt and pepper aside, rested his forearms on the table, hands clasped. “When Julie-Anne called to say Dad was in surgery, I didn’t think about what he was going through, the fear and pain he must have been suffering. All I could think was that I hadn’t hugged him in months, that the last time we spoke I was mad about something Trent had said.” He shook his head at his own selfishness.

  She reached across, covered his hands with hers. “That doesn’t mean you weren’t worried about him. You were afraid of losing him.”

  He pressed his lips together, then said, “I was afraid of the guilty conscience, too. Not that I think you have anything to be guilty about where your father’s concerned. But I figure, if you give up on this job, sooner or later you’ll be kicking yourself.”

  Brianna swallowed. Chad was right. And it would be sooner, rather than later. In the pain of the moment, she hadn’t seen beyond the fact that once again, she wasn’t good enough for her father. But Chad, who barely knew her, had looked ahead—that big picture he was so fond of—and despite the hurt she’d doled out to him earlier today, had taken steps to protect her from future hurt. Hurt that would have been far worse than tonight’s.

  The waitress arrived to take their orders. Brianna chose a burger and fries; Chad had settled on the double bacon burger and double fries.

  “I’ll have a milk shake too, please,” he said. “Chocolate.”

  Brianna stared at him.

  “Want one?” he asked.

  “Strawberry, thanks,” she told the waitress. When the woman left, Brianna said, “As I recall from Las Vegas, you ‘grew out’ of milk shakes when you were twelve.”

  “Did I say that?” He shifted in his seat. “Turns out they’re a great source of calcium.”

  “I know.” She challenged him with her eyes.

  “What?” After a second he let out a breath and leaned back in the booth. “Okay, after you left, I ordered a milk shake once or twice. Must have been thinking about you, I guess. Decided I liked them.”

  Just when she thought she had him pegged, he surprised her again.

  “You were right about what you said earlier,” she said. “I haven’t been as open to Matheson Racing as I should have been. I plan to fix that.”

  He nodded, watchful.

  “And I wasn’t very appreciative of your attempts to help me with Dad during that meeting,” she said. “I’m sorry. What you did was really sweet.”

  He grimaced, looking almost as revolted by sweet as he’d been by soft. “Your dad was so spitting mad, he’ll probably tell you not to bother with Matheson Racing. If you’re lucky, you won’t have to see me again.”

  Why did that make her feel bereft?

  She forced a smile and said lightly, “I doubt it. Once Dad gets over the shock, he’ll admire you all the more. I suspect you remind him of himself at a younger age.”

  Chad sat back to allow the waitress to set down their meals and milk shakes. “I get the feeling that’s not a compliment.”

  “I love my father,” she said defensively. And remembered she’d once told Chad she loved him. “He’s strong,” she said, “and so are you.”

  “Still waiting for the compliment.”

  She sipped her shake, eyed him over her straw. “I’ve accused you of changing for the worse since we broke up. But now I’m thinking maybe some things have changed for the better.”

  “If you’re basing that on the fact that I ordered a milk shake, I have to question your logic.” He popped a French fry into his mouth.

  Brianna took the top off her burger and began to eat the filling with the bottom half of the bun. “There’s never been much logic to you and me.”

  He chuckled.

  “It’s not like I’m saying you turned into a saint,” she said. “You barged into Dad’s house tonight and told him how I should do my job.”

  “That was a terrible thing to do,” he agreed. “That would be like you telling me how to get the best out of my brothers.”

  She couldn’t help her snort of laughter. He was entirely focused on his double bacon burger, but he was smiling, too. And suddenly this roadside diner felt like the toastiest, safest place in the world.

  Chad was bossy and controlling, but he was also fiercely loyal and protective of those he loved. She’d seen that tonight. He doesn’t love me. No, but he felt protective of her. Despite a couple of lapses, he’d arguably shown more loyalty to her than she had to him.

  She was tempted to revel in that protection, to shelter her bruised heart in its warmth.

  Brianna straightened in her seat, stabbed a French fry with her fork. What was she thinking? Chad hadn’t budged on his view that he didn’t want to work with her—he’d said it again just hours ago. It would be dangerous to fantasize about anything more.

  She caught him watching her, speculation in his eyes. She wondered if he could read her mind—and cringed inwardly.

  She grabbed her milk shake. “Race you to the bottom of the glass.”

  And although he rolled his eyes and muttered something about childish, he couldn’t resist the challenge. They drained their glasses until their straws gurgled.

  Brianna won…but only just.

  THEY ATE FAST and were back on the road within half an hour. The rain stopped as they traveled north, but the night grew steadily colder. By the time they arrived back at Matheson Racing headquarters, a frost crisped the parking lot’s grassed verges.

  One of the
mechanics had called Chad’s cell phone to say he’d replaced the starter motor in Brianna’s car. Chad drove right up to the Mustang.

  “Wait here while I get it started,” he said. He found the key inside the wheel rim and got into her car. The throaty roar of the engine confirmed all was well.

  Brianna hunched her shoulders as she stepped out of Chad’s warm Viper.

  Chad turned on her heater and directed the blast at the fogged-up windshield before he got out. “Okay, you’re good to go.”

  “Thanks.” Brianna slung her briefcase into the back seat. Chad was so close to her she could feel the heat of his body in the cold night air. His breath was visible, mingling with hers.

  She shivered. He chafed her arms through her jacket. “Get in the car or you’ll freeze.”

  She nodded. But he didn’t take his hands away, and she couldn’t move—it was as if they were locked together.

  Brianna tilted her head, parted her lips. Chad read it as an invitation—which she now realized it was—and lowered his mouth to hers.

  Sweet. Tempting. Demanding. His kiss held a tenderness Brianna couldn’t remember experiencing with him before, a newness, a sense of adventure. He coaxed her mouth open, entered. It was slow and languorous—crazy, given how cold it was out here.

  She pulled away first, with difficulty. “Um…like you said, I’d better go.”

  He slid his hands down to cup her elbows and they stood, very close to each other, for several long seconds. She thought he might kiss her again.

  Then someone called Chad’s name, startling them both.

  He cursed, stepped away from Brianna and lifted an arm in greeting to Zack, who was crossing the parking lot toward them. “Where did you come from?” Chad asked.

  “I’ve been in the office going over the data from the wind tunnel.”

  The office Trent and Zack shared was at the end of the workshop, around the back of the building, which explained why they hadn’t seen any lights.

  Zack grew closer, and in the orange glow of the streetlamp, Brianna saw the gleam of curiosity in his eyes. Had he seen them kissing?

  “Where have you been?” he asked. “I was afraid you might be burying Brianna in a shallow grave.”

  “Off-site meeting,” Chad said. “Brianna’s just leaving. I need to pick up a few things from inside.” He held her door wide so she could get in the car.

  Zack stood there, not going anywhere, so Chad said, “Good night, Brianna.” Lightly, he thumped the roof of the car; then he walked toward the building.

  Brianna clipped her seat belt. Zack closed her door, but just when she thought she was home free, he rapped on the window.

  She opened it.

  “You can tell me it’s none of my business,” he said, “but there was a vibe in the air between you and Chad just now.”

  “It’s none of your business,” she said.

  “There was something going on earlier, too.” Apparently she could tell him it was none of his business, but he didn’t have to listen. “You seem like a nice lady, Brianna, so I want to warn you—Chad’s not a good bet for a relationship.”

  “I’m not…” The protest began automatically, then her desire to know more won out. “Why not?”

  Zack hesitated. “He’s involved with someone.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “WHAT?” THE NIGHT chill seeped into Brianna’s bones despite the heater blasting in the car. “He told me he’s not.” Great, she’d just let slip that she and Chad had got really personal.

  Zack’s eyebrows shot up. He scratched his head, grimaced. “I’m surprised he’d say that. Chad doesn’t make a habit of lying. But…well, the guy’s such a mess, maybe he doesn’t see it the way I do.”

  “Chad’s a mess?” Brianna asked. Not possible. If he was any more together, he’d be cement.

  Zack’s fingers wrapped over the window opening, as if he was bracing himself. “Brianna, Chad’s married.”

  For one absurd moment, she thought he meant Chad was married to someone else, besides her. The confusion was a blessing, because her recoil and her stunned silence effectively stopped Zack guessing she knew anything at all about Chad’s wedding.

  “He got married in Vegas a couple of years ago,” Zack explained. “We don’t know who she was, but she hurt him pretty bad.”

  Brianna blurted, “She hurt him?”

  Zack looked insulted on his brother’s behalf. “Chad’s a strong guy, but he cares deeply.” He loosened his grip on the car. “All I’m saying is, I understand why he’s attracted to you, but you need to know he would never cheat on a woman, not even one who left him.” He looked troubled, as if he’d just realized that by kissing Brianna, Chad had indeed cheated on his mystery wife.

  Brianna didn’t want to lower Zack’s opinion of his brother—and she longed to know more about Chad’s “hurt.” But she couldn’t say anything without clueing Zack in. Instead, she said, “I appreciate the warning. But there’s no chance of anything happening between me and Chad.” Now she just had to keep telling herself that.

  He looked relieved, then skeptical. “What I just told you is confidential, okay? No one outside the family knows Chad is married.”

  His whole family knows?

  “I’m only telling you because he’s been acting…odd,” Zack said.

  “He’s lucky to have you looking out for him,” Brianna replied.

  Zack shoved his hands in his pockets. His blue eyes turned cold. “Yeah, well, Chad’s done a lot for me. If I ever meet the scheming piranha who ran out on him, she won’t be so lucky. I don’t know what she wanted, but she sure did a number on my brother.”

  CHAD HAD DRIFTED off to sleep around 4:00 a.m., after he’d finally realized what he had to do next. Difficult though the admission had been, he’d got out of bed to type the e-mail. Hitting the send button had brought him a measure of peace.

  He awoke early on Saturday, despite the long drive to and from Atlanta and the late night. But not, it seemed, as early as Brianna, who thumped on his front door at 7:00 a.m.

  How did she know where he lived? he wondered as he surveyed her from his bedroom window. Oh, yeah, he’d given her his address before they’d left Las Vegas, in case she needed him.

  Obviously she’d held on to it.

  The pounding on his door intensified. She was a bundle of outrage in jeans and boots, and a sweater the red-pink of glacé cherries. Chad wondered if she was ticked off because, like him, she hadn’t been able to sleep, courtesy of the memory of that kiss. Crazy that one kiss could do that—it was a sign of what he’d acknowledged in the night, that he’d allowed Brianna too far into his heart again.

  Thank goodness he’d recognized it in time.

  He pulled on his navy, terry-cloth robe and headed downstairs barefoot.

  She whirled into his house with an energy that reminded him of their time in Las Vegas—except this energy definitely radiated hostility.

  “Uh, good morning?” he said.

  She flapped the ends of her striped, multicolored woolen scarf at him. “How can it possibly be a good morning for you, given you’re the innocent victim of a scheming piranha?”

  Her chestnut hair bobbed with indignation.

  Chad woke up his brain. He’d expected a difficult conversation with her today, but in his imagination it hadn’t gone like this. Shouldn’t he be doing the talking?

  “The piranha,” he guessed, “would be you?” In that figure-hugging sweater she looked about as predatory as a color-confused goldfish.

  Her lips clamped together, but not for long. “Why didn’t you tell me your family knows you’re married?”

  Chad’s sense of humor went back to bed. Dammit, Zack must have said something.

  “If we’re going to fight, I need coffee.” He headed for the kitchen, certain she was mad enough to follow without waiting for an invitation.

  “Zack was talking as though I’m some kind of…of Jezebel.” She set her purse down on the island.
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  Chad paused in the act of putting the kettle on the stove. “You didn’t tell him you’re my wife?”

  Of course she hadn’t. If she had, Zack would have been here by now, along with Brady and Trent.

  “I couldn’t,” she said. “I was speechless.”

  “You seem to have got over that,” he observed as he scooped coffee into the French press.

  Her eyes flashed fire, and he wanted to take her into his arms. No more of that. Not after that e-mail.

  “Why did you tell them?” she asked.

  Chad leaned against the stove. “I blurted out that I was married right after Dad’s heart attack. Trent was steamed because he thought I was making a play for Kelly—”

  “Were you?”

  “I’m married,” he reminded her. “Trent and Kelly were falling apart, so I confessed to keep the peace.”

  Brianna grimaced. “Doesn’t sound very peaceful to me.”

  Chad barked a laugh. “Damn right. I was lucky to get out of Dad’s hospital room without being injected with truth serum.”

  “So…how much do they know?”

  “Only that I married someone in Vegas, that we split up right away and that we’re getting a divorce.”

  Pretty much all there was to know. Given he could never tell them how exquisite it felt to make love to Brianna, could never describe the lurch in his heart when she smiled…

  The way she was doing now.

  “You’re not mad?” He squinted so he wouldn’t get the full wattage of that smile, wouldn’t be blinded to the fact that they were wrong for each other.

  “I’m glad you didn’t say anything bad about me,” she admitted. “Though I’m not sure why your brother assumes I’m the villain.”

  “He’s protective.”

  “Runs in the family,” she said, resigned.

  The water boiled, and Chad filled the press. He glanced at his watch to time the coffee brewing. “Could you grab a couple of mugs from that cupboard behind you?”

  Brianna did as he asked. She turned back slowly, looking around as if she’d been so preoccupied with the reason for her visit she hadn’t observed her surroundings. Chad tried to see the kitchen through her eyes. The old house had been a large farmhouse when it was built, but it wasn’t on the scale of Brian Hudson’s mansion.