Checkered Past

by Abby Gaines

  “This is lovely,” Brianna said. Her gaze took in the rustic, oak-beamed ceiling, the flagstone floor. The kitchen counter was new granite, the appliances—including a state-of-the-art milk-shake maker—stainless steel. But the cabinetry was more wood. Elm, from trees felled in an era where timber was plentiful and houses were few.

  Light from the low winter sun streamed through the French doors Chad had designed to match the old-fashioned, multi-paned windows.

  “I imagined you living somewhere stark and functional,” Brianna said.

  “Is that a comment on my personality?”

  She colored. “This is so cozy.”

  Cozy wasn’t a word Chad applied much to his existence. He loved this house because it was so different from the atmosphere at work—it was a refuge from the rest of his life. He took the mugs from her, his fingers brushing hers, and poured the coffee.

  He added cream and one sugar to hers. “Are we still fighting?”

  “That depends.” She took the mug, blew on the contents. “Did you tell your brother I screwed you over?”

  “No,” he said, shocked. “But I’ll screw him over. If I can think of a way to do so without alerting him to the fact we’re married…”

  She touched his arm—dammit, how did her touch sear him every time?

  BRIANNA WAS STANDING so close to Chad, she wondered if it occurred to him that if he put down his coffee, he could pull her into his arms. Her gaze dropped beneath the sudden intensity in his…then caught where his terry robe had parted. Dark hair curled over a chest that she knew felt hard and muscular…

  Assailed with wanting, with longing, Brianna closed her eyes. Somehow, she managed to take a step backward.

  “Brianna,” he said, his tone intense.

  She took a sip of her coffee, sheltering behind the mug. “I know,” she said, trying to be sensible, “we shouldn’t keep…but I find myself wanting to kiss you…again.”

  His eyes were dark with frustration, and good sense fled. She set her cup down on the island and reached out a hand to Chad.

  “I e-mailed my lawyer last night—early this morning,” he said. “I told him to file for a divorce.”

  The words thudded into her, each one a stone that bruised. Her hand fell away.

  “We both know I should have done it a long time ago,” he said. “We can’t move on until we get the divorce.”

  “And…that’s what you want to do? Move on?” Brianna had the crazy thought that if she’d known they were going to talk about this, she’d have worn makeup. She knuckled her cheeks, bare, exposed.

  “We want different things,” he said. “Yes, we both want to kiss each other, but nothing has changed since Vegas.”

  She tried not to look around at the house she now realized she’d wanted to picture herself living in. Caffeine burned in her throat, her stomach. She’d come here this morning angry that Chad’s family blamed her for their split. Then she’d fallen into the usual trap of being seduced by her attraction to him, aided this time by his beautiful home…and it had ended with a slap in the face.

  The slap stung all the more because last night was the closest they’d come to the tenderness they’d experienced in Las Vegas. That he would run from that, so hard, so drastically…

  “Why apply for the divorce now?” she asked.

  “Last night we were…close,” he said. “But neither of us wants this marriage, not in the big picture. You want a guy who’ll share everything with you.”

  “And you want companionship on those nights when you make it home early enough,” she said stonily. “Conversation that doesn’t demand your heart. Sex when you need it. Kids who won’t disrupt your commitment to the team.”

  Chad stared out the French doors at a sparrow splashing in the birdbath on the lawn. “If you give me the name of your lawyer, mine will get in touch.”

  She swallowed. “It’s not as if one of us is disputing the divorce or we’re dividing up assets. I’m happy for your lawyer to represent both of us.”

  He nodded. The phone rang, but he ignored it.

  “Why don’t you get that?” she said, welcoming the distraction.

  His eyes still on her, he picked up the phone. “Uh, hi, Dad.” Then, “No, I didn’t forget.”

  His eyes widened and he flicked a glance at Brianna. Obviously Brady had mentioned her.

  “No,” Chad said flatly.

  No what? she mouthed.

  “Absolutely not.” Chad turned away from Brianna, made a few more comments, then ended the call.

  “What was that about?” Brianna asked. Her cell phone buzzed, and Chad groaned.

  “Don’t answer that,” he ordered.

  She pressed the answer button.

  “Brianna.” Brady’s voice boomed over the airwaves, sounding strong and healthy. “I want you to come to lunch today at my place.”

  “That’s kind of you, Brady, but—”

  “I’ll have Chad pick you up,” Brady interrupted.

  “Do you think he’ll want to do that?” Brianna asked. What would his lawyer say?

  “Of course he will.”

  “Brady, if the invitation is because you want to talk about the sponsorship…”

  “I expect that’ll come up,” he said easily. “When you’re with the Mathesons, you talk NASCAR. It’s one of those chicken-and-egg things. But mainly, I like you, and I’d like to spend more time with you.”

  A wave of nostalgia for something she’d never had washed over Brianna, taking her by surprise. She gasped for air.

  “You still there?” Brady asked. “Damn cell phone,” he muttered, “always cutting out on me.”

  “I’m still here,” Brianna said, a wobble of amusement, and maybe something else, in her voice.

  “So, you’ll come for lunch?”

  Chad was shaking his head at her and making throat-slicing motions.

  “I’d love to come for lunch,” she said.

  “I TOLD CHAD to bring the sponsor girl with him,” Brady said.

  “Brianna Hudson?” Julie-Anne added chopped cilantro to the pan on the stove—a Thai chicken curry that Brady knew was delicious despite its newfangledness.

  He stirred in the cilantro for her. Which was about the most useful thing he’d done in the past two months. It was nuts that a guy who, thanks to modern cardiac surgery, was perfectly healthy would be forbidden by his doctors to do anything more strenuous than hover.

  Even more nuts that when he disobeyed, he was left short of breath.

  “Anything else I can do for you?” he asked Julie-Anne.

  What was the world coming to when a man needed someone’s permission to be useful?

  “You could set the table,” she suggested as she ran the faucet over the chopping board.

  “Carry all those knives and forks by myself?”

  She laughed. “Don’t be a grouch, dearest.” Her smile was so sunny, so loving, that Brady couldn’t hold on to his temper tantrum. Especially not when she turned off the faucet and walked across the kitchen, curvy in her T-shirt and ruffled skirt, hips swinging.

  Brady managed to focus on the way watching her made him feel inside, in his heart, rather than on his physical reaction. Or his total, dispiriting, mortifying lack thereof.

  Julie-Anne wrapped her arms around his neck; he tugged her closer. Their lips met in a tentative kiss that soon became urgent. Only Brady knew that his urgency was more desperation.

  He cupped her face with his hands, explored her mouth thoroughly. She pressed herself harder against him and gave a little moan of longing.

  When he broke away, he was breathing heavily.

  “I love you, Brady,” Julie-Anne said.

  “I love you, too.” It was easier to say than he’d ever thought it would be, after Rosie died. He never wanted to stop saying it to Julie-Anne. But would she feel the same when she realized…

  Julie-Anne caught sight of the clock on the wall behind him and squawked. “They’ll be here any second and
this place is a mess!”

  Her sense of organization was completely different from Brady’s, so he knew better than to try to clean up with her. He was a tidy man himself, but the two of them never agreed on what went where. Even in his own kitchen.

  He left her to it and went to set the table. Relieved to have once again escaped the inevitable conversation that loomed at the front of his thoughts.

  All three of his sons would be here for lunch—it was great having Zack back in Charlotte, even if it was seldom easy. Nothing nicer than having the whole family around.

  Not just family today. Brady was glad he’d circumvented Chad’s objections and invited Brianna directly. For some reason, Chad was dragging the chain on the Getaway sponsorship. Which wasn’t like his oldest son—Brady could only think Chad had too much on his plate. He’d been off the pace in his work, though not so as anyone other than Brady would notice, ever since he’d come back from Las Vegas two years ago.

  What had possessed Chad to marry a woman he’d only just met?

  Chad had insinuated that Brady was doing the same. But Brady knew Julie-Anne a heck of a lot better than Chad had known that little miss he’d married. He knew Julie-Anne would never walk out on him.

  Which was the whole damn problem. She would stay with him out of loyalty, out of sympathy, but dammit, he didn’t want that. He wanted a woman who saw him as the strong, take-charge man he was. Used to be.

  This time last year, he’d have said he didn’t want a woman at all. Which proved there was no certain way to happiness in this life. There was Chad, all upset because he’d rushed into a stupid marriage. Zack wasn’t himself, either, but as far as Brady knew it wasn’t anything to do with a woman; his middle son had some resentments to get over, but Brady didn’t have a clue how to help him, wasn’t even sure it was his job. Trent was as happy as a NASCAR Sprint Cup Series driver in Victory Lane, of course, but he’d always had a sunny nature. And Kelly was perfect for him. They were the exception to the rule.

  Brady sighed. Family was too hard to think about. Better to focus on Zack’s sponsorship—something tangible he could do for his son. Brady had hit it off pretty well with Brianna the other day, and he intended to build on that today.

  He smirked at the way he’d outsmarted his son over getting Brianna here—proved he was still in charge of something. Of lunch. I’m a legend in my own lunchtime.

  Chad and Brianna were, predictably, the first to arrive. Right behind him came Zack in his Ford F-150 truck. Trent, of course, would be late. He swore he never did it deliberately, but the simple truth was, the boy liked to make an entrance. Brady felt his face soften at the thought of his youngest son.

  He went out onto the porch to greet the older boys and Brianna.

  “Thank you for inviting me,” she said.

  He shook Brianna’s hand, then kissed her cheek. Julie-Anne came outside, drawn by the noise, and Brady introduced the two women.

  As always, he felt a glow of pride. Julie-Anne was so pretty, so youthful and energetic, she could easily pass for younger than her forty-nine years. She favored full skirts and figure-hugging tops that reminded Brady how desirable she was.

  Brianna was a pretty girl, too, but she had none of the mature voluptuousness that made Julie-Anne so addictive. Still, Brady caught a spark of something in Chad’s eye as he looked at Brianna that surprised him. Maybe his son was coming out of his self-imposed exile. Bad timing, though. He’d have to tell Chad to wait until after the sponsor deal was signed.

  BRIANNA WAS INTRIGUED to meet Kelly Greenwood, the woman who’d tamed playboy Trent Matheson. She was prepared to be intimidated—none of the Matheson men were easy, not even Trent—but Kelly turned out to be low-key, even ordinary.

  But when Trent looked at her, you realized she wasn’t at all ordinary, not to put a light like that in a man’s eyes.

  Kelly was all smiles as she greeted Brianna on the porch where pre-lunch drinks were served. “Trent tells me you’re quite something when it comes to keeping the Matheson men in line,” she said.

  “Now, sugar, that’s not what I said at all.” Trent’s voice turned even more drawly than usual. “I said you’d like her.”

  “My point exactly.” Kelly stumbled on a floorboard that stuck up a fraction from the porch.

  Trent grabbed hold of her. “Dad, I offered to fix this board for you,” he said, accusing.

  Kelly swatted his arm. “Don’t be silly. You can’t expect people to Kelly-proof their homes.” She said to Brianna, “I should warn you, some people run when they see me coming. I have two left feet.”

  “Three left feet, sugar,” Trent corrected helpfully, which earned him another swat.

  “I’m a klutz,” Kelly said. “But I’m used to it, and if you stick around long enough, you will be, too.”

  I don’t plan to be here that long, Brianna thought, wishing she could stay forever. Trent and Kelly had something between them—some kind of magic—that was irresistible. What would it be like to be so intimate with a man that it didn’t matter if you and he were two entirely different kinds of people?

  “Brianna’s only here another two, three weeks, tops,” Chad confirmed.

  As if that was his decision. Brianna glared at him. His arms were folded, his shoulders rigid, his whole stance proclaiming I asked my lawyer to get me a divorce.

  “Zack, tell me how the wind-tunnel testing went on your car,” Brady said.

  “We fixed some drag issues, and I think we really got a handle on the aerodynamics.” Zack glanced at Chad. “Though if you believe some people, the driver’s still a major problem.”

  “That’s not true, Zack,” Chad said, his voice a bit stiff. “You have the skill and determination to fix whatever’s wrong. You just need more seat-time.”

  Everyone stared at him.

  “Uh, thanks,” Zack said cautiously. The shift in his brother’s attitude didn’t disconcert him for long—he seized the opportunity. “Do you mind if my team goes to Kentucky a day ahead? I know there’s an extra cost in using the track, but I think it would help.”

  “Hey, not fair,” Trent said immediately. “Ouch.”

  Brianna gathered that Kelly had nudged him hard. She knew money was tight at Matheson Racing right now—if they didn’t sign a sponsor for Zack before Daytona, the team would have to fund him itself or pull him from the races. But Chad didn’t dive in with the flat refusal to pay for another day’s testing that she expected.

  “I’ll give that some thought,” he said, still excessively polite. “Let’s talk about it in the office on Tuesday.”

  Zack darted a glance at Brianna—she shrugged—then said, with equally exaggerated civility, “Thank you, Chad, I appreciate your willingness to consider the idea.”

  “My pleasure.” The glint in Chad’s eyes said the strain of speaking respectfully to his brother was starting to show.

  “What’s going on?” Brady demanded. “Why are you talking like constipated ballerinas?”

  Chad gave Brianna a look that said See? I can be encouraging. As if he was doing this for her. Was he? Warmth spread through her…and came smack-bang up against her hurt that he’d filed for divorce.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THEY SAT DOWN to lunch late, almost two o’clock. The drinks had relaxed everyone—Brady managed not to groan out loud when the women moved to the subject of the forthcoming wedding, though he did exchange resigned glances with his sons. Kelly and her mom had everything planned, but apparently it was essential that everyone else hear all the details.

  “I don’t recommend it as a means of getting close to your mom, though,” Kelly told Brianna. “Mom and I have almost come to blows a couple of times.”

  “My mom lives in Australia,” Brianna said. “We don’t keep in touch that regularly.”

  “That’s too bad,” Kelly said. “I mean, I know I complain about my mom, but I’m glad she’s here.”

  Brianna gave her a reassuring smile. “I don’t think my mother a
nd I would have seen eye to eye about much to do with my wedding.”

  “Are you married?” Kelly’s gaze traveled to Brianna’s left hand.

  Brianna blushed—Brady was interested to note that Chad immersed himself in the contents of his plate with an improbable degree of fascination for the Thai chicken curry. His son was definitely interested in Brianna. Goodness knows why that obliged him to stand ten feet away from the woman the whole time, rather than letting her see he was attracted. Brady shook his head at the ignorance of youth.

  “I meant, if I ever get married,” Brianna said. “I’d love to have a big wedding like yours. Even if I have to organize it myself.”

  Chad was chewing with a tension that suggested he might break a tooth. Well, well. Brady rubbed his chin. He knew his son wouldn’t go after Brianna until he divorced the woman he’d married—as far as Brady knew, that hadn’t happened. Still, it wouldn’t hurt Chad to take things slowly next time around.

  “How about you?” Brianna said to Julie-Anne, sounding slightly desperate. “Have you and Brady set a date?”

  The light from the chandelier above the dining table caught the enormous diamond on Julie-Anne’s finger. Brady was proud of that ring. But he wasn’t so excited about Brianna’s question.

  “We want to wait until the doctors have cleared Brady to go back to work.” Julie-Anne’s musical voice was patient. “And until after Trent and Kelly’s wedding. One set of imminent nuptials is enough.” She smiled at Brady, a loving, knowing smile.

  Except, she doesn’t know.

  “What do you think, dearest?” she asked. “Shall we pick a date and see if it works for the doctors?”

  Chad looked about as sour at the prospect as Brady felt. Zack looked mildly interested; only Trent was enthusiastic. Along with the women, of course.

  “Plenty of time for that,” Brady said.

  Julie-Anne’s smile turned quizzical. “How about March? Or I guess the weather might be nicer in April.”