by Francis Ray
He laughed, a deep, rich sound that sent goose bumps skipping over her body. “You know me too well.”
“Brandon, dance with me.” Elizabeth Jackson, sleek, thin, and wearing a black mini cocktail dress that hugged her ample bust and long legs to eye-popping perfection, ran her fingers down Brandon’s wide chest.
Faith briefly wondered what Elizabeth would look like with every strand of her thick auburn hair on the floor, then shook the uncharitable thought away. It wasn’t Elizabeth’s fault that she was bold enough to speak up and go after what she wanted, whereas Faith hadn’t the courage to do so.
Brandon gave Elizabeth a dimpled smile that caused the slim, beautiful woman to sigh with pleasure. “Let me take a rain check. Right now Faith and I are going to show the people on the dance floor how it’s done.” Catching Faith’s hand, he started toward the dancers.
Elizabeth blinked as if she couldn’t believe she had been rebuffed or who Brandon had chosen in her place. Faith was having a difficult time believing it as well and wishing she weren’t twenty pounds overweight—all right, it was more than that, but if she thought about the exact number it would spoil the moment.
A teasing glint entered Brandon’s midnight black eyes when he stopped in the midst of the dancers. “You do remember how to dance, don’t you?”
Faith caught his playful mood and forgot about Elizabeth and the extra pounds she’d carried since she was a child. “I might.”
“Let’s see.” With no more warning than that, Brandon pulled Faith into his arms, only to send her spinning in a succession of fast circles before he caught her around the waist to sway and dip to the pulsating beat of the music. “You didn’t forget,” he whispered against her ear.
Shivers raced down her spine at his warm breath. She’d never forgotten one precious second with Brandon. “I had a good teacher.”
Twirling her away, then back in quick repetitions, he stepped away, and they danced around each other in a synchronized beat that had couple after couple stopping to watch and clap their hands. Brandon caught Faith again, pulling her back against him as they went halfway to the floor, then back up, wiggling all the way.
Hand in hand he swung her out on the floor as if it were yesterday instead of eleven years since they’d danced together. Grinning at each other and out of breath, they finished with his arm clamped tightly around her waist. Applause erupted. Stepping to one side, they gave exaggerated, laughing bows and left the dance floor.
“Let’s get something to drink.” Brandon’s arm remained curved with easy familiarity around her.
Fanning her flushed face, Faith tried to keep her voice normal. “You need to be with your guests.”
He shook his dark head, sending his thick black hair confined at the base of his neck with a thick silver band skimming sensuously down his back, and kept walking. “I’m sticking with you while Mama is watching.”
Faith stopped abruptly and looked up at Brandon’s handsome, strong, and, so she thought, intelligent face. “So I’m safe,” she said, trying to keep the hurt and anger out of her voice.
Eyes that she dreamed about stared down into hers. “You’re the only woman I can be sure of. I can relax with you. You aren’t after me.”
I want you more than all of the others put together, she thought. She knew she could never voice the words.
Apparently taking her silence for agreeing with his assessment, Brandon straightened, slinging his arm around her shoulders in a brotherly fashion as he’d done so many times in the past. “We’re just friends.”
Faith swallowed the knot in her throat. Just friends. He didn’t see her as a desirable woman. He probably never would. At least she had his friendship. As they walked to the bar she tried to tell herself that was enough.
1
“Thank goodness this is the last trip.” Pierce Grayson, Brandon’s younger brother, set the coffee bean grinder on the gleaming black granite counter in Brandon’s spotless and ultramodern kitchen with a relieved sigh. The counter was filled with birthday gifts of various kitchen utensils and cooking appliances.
“What’s her name?” Brandon didn’t even try to keep the sarcasm out of his voice as he placed a twelve-speed stainless-steel blender and a rice cooker and steamer next to the coffee bean grinder.
A grin flashed across the sculpted face that women couldn’t seem to get enough of. “Carmella.”
Brandon folded his arms and leaned back against the counter. “You could at least pretend not to be having so much fun while I’m having none.”
Pierce’s manicured hand slapped Brandon on the back. “I appreciate your sacrifice, big brother.”
“Only a nitwit would believe that,” Sierra Grayson, their baby sister, mocked as she nudged over a sleek stainless-steel can opener to place an assortment of gourmet cooking oils on the breakfast table.
Pierce tried and failed to look contrite. “I’m just storing up memories.”
Sierra made a face. “You’ve been using that lame excuse since Luke bit the dust.”
“Just proves me right, since Morgan fell so quickly.” Pierce turned to his older brother. “Brandon here is made of sturdier stuff.”
“I might not be able to hold out much longer.” His glance slid away from Sierra, who promptly rolled her eyes. He didn’t like talking about sex in front of her.
“Pierce certainly couldn’t have held out this long,” Sierra said, running her fingers through shiny black hair that tumbled to her tiny waist.
Pierce shuddered and once again clasped Brandon’s shoulder. “She’s right. I couldn’t. Are you sure this is the only way?”
Morose, Brandon nodded and unfolded his arms. “I’ve thought about this a lot. Playing the field is the only way.”
“Then why aren’t you playing?” Pierce demanded with his usual straightforwardness to get to the bottom of a problem.
“And don’t act as if I haven’t ever heard the word ‘sex’ before,” Sierra said. “Pierce has a point. You dated before. Why stop now?”
“Because before Mama wasn’t in the mix,” he said a bit impatiently. “She has the uncanny ability to pick out the right woman. I can’t take a chance that the woman I date is the one.”
“I see your point,” Pierce said slowly, then hung his head, only to lift it moments later. “Sierra, if Brandon falls, you might as well start picking out your china pattern.”
Sierra swatted her brother on the chest. “Because we all know you can’t go two days without a woman,” she said with disgust.
“Women like me,” Pierce said, his broad smile returning as he straightened the silk tie that exactly matched the pocket square in his fifteen-hundred-dollar wheat-colored sports jacket.
“They used to like me, too,” Brandon said, his shoulders slumped.
Pierce and Sierra traded worried glances. Both knew one of the perks of Brandon’s popular restaurant was all the women who came there. He adored women. Sierra lightly touched Brandon’s arm in sympathy. “If it’s any consolation, I’m not dating, either.”
“You’re too picky,” Pierce said.
“Just like my brothers taught me to be,” she said. “Whereas you, my dear brother, could use some of the same discretion. Carmella De La Vegas is a temperamental flamenco dancer who has a reputation for shredding her lovers once she’s finished with them.”
“Until now,” Pierce said with confidence. “If there is nothing else, Carmella is waiting.”
Sierra wrinkled her nose. “Since her group’s last performance was tonight, I guess we won’t hear from you until after she leaves Tuesday morning.”
Pierce’s dark eyes narrowed. “She’s staying in a hotel, not in one of your lease properties. How do you know her itinerary?”
“Trade secret,” she said sweetly.
“Get out of here,” Brandon urged. “I would tell you to think of me, but it would be ungentlemanly.”
With one last puzzled look at Sierra, Pierce left. As soon as the door closed, Brand
on asked, “How did you know?”
She laughed. “I read it in the newspaper.”
Brandon chuckled. “He’ll worry about it all night. He likes everything neat and tidy.”
“Exactly.” Opening a drawer, Sierra pulled out a box cutter.
Brandon promptly took it away from her. “I can do this in the morning.” He put the box she had been about to open under his arm and ushered her to the door. “Good night, and thanks.”
With her hand on the doorknob, she paused. “If you need any help taking the old appliances to the Women’s League, let me know.”
Brandon shook his head. The Women’s League was a nonprofit organization to help the disadvantaged of Santa Fe. His mother was an active member and past president. “Mother and Mrs. Poole are coming to pick up everything Monday. I understand they already have a waiting list.”
“And you’ll go over Tuesday night to give cooking instructions and food demonstrations and then feed the fifty or so extra men and women who show up at no charge,” Sierra said.
He shrugged carelessly. “I enjoy doing it.”
“And they enjoy having you.” Sierra opened the door. “See you then, if not before. We know we won’t see Pierce much before then.”
Brandon grimaced. “Don’t remind me.”
She bit her lip in an uncharacteristic indecisive motion. “Perhaps dating just a bit wouldn’t hurt.”
Brandon threw his free arm around her slight shoulders. “That means a lot coming from you, and I might have to dip my toe in the dating waters again, but I’m going to try to hold out a little longer. Mama seemed too pleased with herself tonight.”
Sierra’s ebony eyes widened. “You think she’s picked out your wife?”
Brandon sighed. “Yes.”
“I don’t suppose you have any idea who she is?” Sierra asked.
“Not a clue,” he said with disgust. “Catherine and Phoenix were both from out of town. And we’re still unsure if Mama had a hand in bringing Phoenix and Morgan together.”
“I’m not,” Sierra said. “Mama doesn’t leave anything to chance. Remember, one of the cities Phoenix visited before she came here was Boston. Aunt Felicia might live with Uncle John Henry on his ranch in Oklahoma, but she grew up in Boston, her parents are there, and she has strong ties to the art community there. My guess is that Aunt Felicia had a hand in it somehow.”
“Aunt Felicia and Mama spent a lot of time together tonight,” Brandon said thoughtfully. “But they’ve always been close, even when Uncle John Henry and Aunt Felicia were separated.”
“Besides being from out of town, the women she chose were talented and gifted. Catherine is a noted children’s author; Phoenix, a renowned sculptress.”
“So you think the woman Mama’s picked is an artist or a woman with a special talent or gift of some type?”
“I’d like to say yes, but we both know how unpredictable Mama is.”
“So, basically, I’m screwed.”
“Not for a while,” Sierra said, deadpan.
Brandon burst out laughing and hugged her again. “Get out of here. Drive safely, and call me when you get home.”
It was a ritual Sierra was familiar with. “Happy birthday, and may you have many, many more.”
“Hopefully as a single man.”
Giving him one last smile, she went through the open door and closed it softly behind her.
Brandon turned with the boxed can opener and yawned. Opening the gifts and putting them away could wait. Setting the box on the kitchen table, he headed to the bedroom. By the time he reached the middle of the room his shirt was off.
Plopping on the side of the king-size bed, he pulled off his favorite Red Cactus boots, then shucked his slacks. He preferred jeans but had worn the pants to please his mother. Thank goodness he hadn’t had to wear a tie. He’d leave that to Morgan and Pierce.
Opening the door to his bathroom, Brandon was three feet inside when he stepped in water. He glanced down and muttered an oath. Water trailed from the baseboard a few feet away.
Crouching, he discovered the wall behind the commode was wet. Straightening, he went to the phone in the bedroom and speed-dialed. With a restaurant, he never knew when he might need a plumber or electrician or any number of services.
“Reliable Plumbing answering service.”
Brandon recognized Kay Smith’s dry smoker’s voice immediately. She was the owner’s mother-in-law. “Good evening, Mrs. Smith. This is Brandon Grayson. I need Mr. Montgomery right away. I think a pipe in my wall burst.”
“In your restaurant?” asked the efficient voice.
“My apart—” The bathroom was directly over the restaurant’s storeroom. “Please tell Mr. Montgomery I’ll be downstairs.” Hanging up the phone, Brandon snagged his pants and rushed downstairs.
“Please reconsider and wait until tomorrow to leave.” Faith stood on the bricked sidewalk in front of Casa de Serenidad with her two brothers. Their luggage was already inside the trunk of the luxury rented sedan.
“I wish I could, but I need to get back to the ranch,” Duncan told her. “It’s haying time.”
“I have to meet one of my race car sponsors in Chicago on Monday,” Cameron explained.
And if you stay, you might be reminded of too many memories. “I love you.”
They hugged her, then started to the car, only to stop and come back. “You changed your mind?” she asked, meeting them halfway.
Duncan stared down at her. “Brandon seemed to think you weren’t happy tonight. You’d tell us if there was a problem, wouldn’t you?”
Faith’s heart thumped. The last thing she needed was her brothers knowing how she felt about Brandon. “Brandon’s mistaken.”
Cameron frowned. “Obviously what we know about women you could put on the head of a pin.”
Faith had never felt so helpless. She could cheerfully have wrung Caitlin’s neck for what she’d done to Cameron. “Some women can’t see what’s in front of them.”
“I’d hate like hell for you to fall prey to the McBride curse,” Duncan said.
Pain and shadows crossed her brother’s dark face. When Faith finished with Caitlin, Duncan’s ex-wife, Sheryl, was next. “I have to believe one day things will change in our favor.”
“We pray that’s true for you,” Duncan said. What he hadn’t said was that for him and Cameron there was no hope. Hugging her, he passed her to Cameron’s waiting arms.
“Take care.” Cameron tweaked her nose. “Stay safe.”
“You both do the same. Good-bye.” She watched Cameron climb into the driver’s seat while Duncan got in on the passenger side. Cameron was happiest when he was behind the wheel.
It wasn’t often that they could get together. Duncan was busy with his ranch in Montana, and Cameron was on the NASCAR circuit. Both had fled Santa Fe after their disastrous relationships. In that, they’d done as their father had done when their mother had left him the day Faith graduated from college six years ago.
The McBrides could turn a dime into a dollar, as her grandfather had often said, but they weren’t worth warm spit when it came making their women stick around. With Faith’s birth, the first female in six generations, they’d all thought their luck had changed. So far, it hadn’t.
Turning, Faith followed the well-lit path through the bricked archway into the courtyard flush with blooming flowers in bright hues of red and purple, then continued into the open lobby of Casa de Serenidad, her pride and joy. After her mother left, Faith’s father had lost interest in the hotel that had been in the family for two generations.
With Duncan and Cameron gone, the job of running the establishment had fallen to her. It had been scary for a woman fresh out of college, armed only with a business degree and zeal, to succeed. She’d put her plans of traveling the world on hold and settled down to running the family business.
Her heels clicked softly on the terrazzo floor. Her practiced eyes surveyed the area, pleased with the comfortable jad
e green leather sitting area, fresh floral arrangements, and muted colors of red, green, and yellow in the throw pillows and the area rug. As usual, she stopped by the front desk before retiring for the night.
“Hello, Pamela. Everything is going well, I see.” One thing she’d learned was to always phrase a question as a positive statement.
“Yes, Ms. McBride.” Pamela Houston was a new hire and overflowing with good cheer. Cute and petite, with big brown eyes, she had a knack for soothing the ruffled feathers of disgruntled travelers who’d had delayed flights, car trouble, or other problems before arriving. “A number of the guests at the Grayson party stopped by and asked for information on the guest and banquet facilities. We gave them the gift bags you had prepared. They were all thankful and were only too anxious to provide their mailing information.”
“Excellent.” The note from her offering 15 percent off their first stay for completing the form probably helped. Everyone liked a bargain.
“They were disappointed that we’re booked solid through summer,” Pamela added.
“Thanks to the efficient employees like you, we will stay that way.” The only reason Faith’s brothers had a room was that she had known when Brandon’s party was scheduled and had reserved the suite far in advance. Another guest had late check-in Sunday afternoon. “Good night.”
“Good night, Ms. McBride. Sleep well.”
“Thank you,” Faith said, knowing that sleep depended on whether she had the nightmare of Brandon at the altar waiting for his bride or the erotic one with Brandon doing things to her body that left her breathless with desire. She dreaded both. They were a painful reminder of what she could never have. And if he learned her secret she’d never be able to face him again.
Was there any misery worse than loving a man who didn’t love you back? If there was, Faith didn’t want any part of it.
In a long silk lilac-colored nightgown Faith stood in front of the vanity in the oversize bathroom decorated in muted tones of blue and beige and tried to objectively assess herself. She started with her face—mocha-colored, unblemished, with naturally arched eyebrows and an average nose and mouth. She would never drive a man wild with lust, but she wouldn’t make him run screaming from the room, either.