by Beth Andrews
And he never would’ve let her wait this long. Aidan was nothing if not organized. He’d be willing to bet Aidan scheduled every minute of his day, including his trips to the bathroom.
J.C. fumbled the box in her hands before setting it back on the island. “No. Do I…do you think that’ll be a problem?”
“Only if you’re serious about doing business with him.”
She blanched. No, Aidan wasn’t that big prick, to hold something like an impromptu visit against her. But the truth was, Brady didn’t want her to go to his brother.
Not when she wouldn’t even take his phone calls.
“Maybe I should leave,” she said, biting her lower lip, her brow furrowed.
“You’re already here,” he pointed out. His knee began to ache so he lifted himself up to sit on the counter. “You might as well do what you came here to do.”
“But if it’s going to make Aidan angry—”
“You don’t need Aidan.” Brady took the lid off the container. Lasagna. Great. Even better. He opened the drawer between his legs and grabbed a fork. “You’ve got me.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve got you for what?”
He waved the fork. “To discuss your business idea.”
“Have you been drinking?”
She didn’t add again, but sure as hell implied it. “Not yet.”
He would’ve started already but he’d been starving and all he had at the cottage was cereal…but no milk. Guess he needed to make a trip to the grocery store. The grocery store where he could limp behind a cart while everyone stared. Or asked him how he was doing, what his plans were next.
Better yet, he could have a flashback, proving to everyone how little control he had over himself.
Was it any wonder he needed the oblivion alcohol provided?
The only reason he’d come to his mom’s house was because he knew she wouldn’t be there. Despite her being pissed at him, she still kept him informed of her comings and goings and two days ago, she’d left him a message saying she was spending a long weekend in D.C. with Al.
“Are you working for Aidan?” J.C. asked.
He could be. If he gave in to his mother’s threats and Aidan’s pressure.
Brady scooped up more cold lasagna. “Tell me.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear—just like Liz always did. “I’ve had some unexpected expenses. And I need to supplement my income.”
He narrowed his eyes at her hesitant tone. “What kind of unexpected expenses?”
“It doesn’t matter. But I—”
“Jane. What expenses?”
She shrugged, the movement causing her full breasts to rise and lower. He averted his gaze. “Some…doctor bills.”
For the baby. His baby. “I’ll pay them.”
“No. You won’t.”
“I want to,” he said, realizing it was true. He wanted to help her, even if all he had to offer was a few bucks.
“I told you, I don’t want your money.” Her hands were clenched at her sides, her shoulders rigid. “I have to do this on my own.”
And that was when he saw the real reason she wouldn’t accept his help. Pride.
Hell. He knew a thing or two about that. And he wasn’t about to try to injure hers.
“Go on,” he said quietly.
She looked at him with such gratitude, he felt like a complete ass. Damn it, she shouldn’t be willing to accept so little from him.
“When I saw that first bill,” she said, “I was a bit stressed so I did what most women do when they’re stressed.”
“Found some poor bastard to castrate?”
“Ha-ha. No, but only because I didn’t think you’d let me within ten feet of you if I happened to be carrying a machete.”
He grimaced. “Ouch.”
“I searched for some chocolate. But I didn’t have any so I decided to make some.” She took the lid off the box and carried it over to him.
He set the lasagna aside. “I didn’t know you made chocolates.” He inspected the candies set on waxed paper.
Then again, there was plenty he didn’t know about her. Like why she’d slept with him. Or what her plans for the future were. How she would raise their baby on her own.
But being this close to her he did find out a couple of things about her. She smelled sweet, like vanilla. Her eyes weren’t plain brown as he’d always thought, but a deep, rich caramel.
“I usually make them as gifts,” she said, “for holidays and birthdays or if a friend needs a pick-me-up. And I made them for—” she dropped her eyes “—for Liz’s wedding and they went over pretty well and I…I started to think maybe I could sell them. So, I took some down to Horizons—”
“Is that the gift shop Sandy O’Donnell owns?” he asked, remembering the one time he’d gone into the small store on Main Street. He’d been on leave from basic training and had stopped in to buy a Mother’s Day gift. But being surrounded by all those chick gifts—crystal glasses, tableware, picture frames and ceramic figurines—had given him the hives.
“Yes. She carries chocolates from a candy maker in Danville during the holidays and Easter, so I thought she might be interested in selling mine, as well. But she has an exclusive contract with the other guy.” J.C. rolled her eyes as if her encounter with Sandy hadn’t been all that pleasant. “I tried Kent Goodwin at the Main Street Mercantile and he said he would’ve been interested…if I’d contacted him back in August when he was accepting inventory for the holiday season. Then he gave me the old ‘if I make an exception for you, I have to make an exception for everyone’ speech and—”
“The point of all this?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I’m getting there. Rhonda, the manager at Country Crafts, declined because she’d tried gourmet food at her store before and it hadn’t sold well. Of course, she didn’t tell me that until after she ate half a pound worth of samples. I went to Delgato’s but he wouldn’t even hear me out. You’d think, seeing as how I was the one he fired, I’d be holding the grudge and not the other way around.”
Couldn’t she have just said all three gift shops in town and the only gourmet grocery store within an eighty-mile radius had turned her down? “And now you’re here…?”
“I’m here because when I left Delgato’s, I saw the flyer for the holiday open houses the Diamond Dust is hosting and I had an epiphany.”
“An epiphany on Mechanic Street. That’s not something you hear every day.”
“That’s what makes it special,” she assured him solemnly, but her eyes were lit with humor. “I think my chocolates and the Diamond Dust would be a perfect match. Sell the chocolates in the gift shop.”
He carefully slid off the counter landing with his weight on his right leg, the box still in his hands. “You want to start making chocolates—”
“Gourmet chocolates.” She closed the distance between them and picked out a candy. “Here. Try one.” She popped it into his mouth.
The outer shell was dark chocolate, the inside a creamy milk chocolate that melted on his tongue. Damn, that was good. He looked into her eyes and found it difficult to take a full breath.
He pushed away from the counter, set the box down and took a glass from an upper cabinet. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” he said as he filled it with water from the sink and took a long drink. “You couldn’t find anyone in town willing to sell your chocolates so you decided the best place for them would be at the Diamond Dust?”
She crossed her arms, which drew his attention again to that damn lace covering her breasts. “You make it sound like this is my last resort.”
“Is it?”
“So what if it is?” she asked irritably. “It’s not like it’s the end of my world if this doesn’t pan out. I’m sure I can get a part-time job somewhere.”
“You don’t sound very convincing.”
“It’s just…I’ve had some trouble finding a job that suits me. And when some employers see my employmen
t history they’re not real anxious to give me a chance.”
“How many jobs have you had?”
“Total?”
Sleeping with her was the biggest mistake of his life and she was a pain in the ass for wanting more from him than financial support with this pregnancy. For expecting more from him than he could give. So why did he find her amusing as hell? “How about you give me a rough estimate?”
She pursed her lips. “Around a dozen. Give or take one or two.”
Twelve jobs in less than what…ten years? There was no way Aidan would go for any sort of deal with her no matter how good her candy tasted.
Luckily, Aidan wasn’t here.
“You’ve got a deal,” he said. “You can sell your candy at the Diamond Dust gift shop.”
For a moment, she seemed confused, but then she broke into a grin. “Really?” she asked breathlessly.
“The details will still have to be ironed out.” Which would be the perfect job for Aidan. His older brother loved nothing more than ironing out details. “But, yeah, really.”
Her cheeks flushed with pleasure. “This is so great. You won’t regret it, I promise.” He ground his back teeth together when she did a little hip-shaking, shoulder-wiggling dance that brought her closer to him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Then she grabbed his face with both hands, pulled his head down and kissed him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
J.C. STOPPED DOING her victory dance when Brady’s hands tightened on her hips as she pressed her mouth against his. There she went again, throwing caution aside and letting her spontaneity get the better of her. She’d meant for it to be nothing more than a celebratory kiss. Light and fun. To express her gratitude—and relief.
But as soon as her mouth touched Brady’s, she knew it could never be any of those things. Not when her heart stuttered at the feel of his lips against hers. Not when warning bells were clanging in her head.
Not when fixing things with Liz meant she had to stay away from him.
She fell back on her heels.
You just charge forward, not caring about anything except what you want.
No. Not anymore.
“Don’t take that the wrong way,” she warned him in a raspy whisper.
His eyes hooded, he studied her. “How should I take it?”
She shivered. And realized she was touching him, still cupping his face.
She dropped her hands and stepped back. But she could still feel the scratchiness of his beard on her palms. “It’s been a tough week and I’m…grateful…and…” And she was babbling like an idiot. She held her breath for the count of five. “I’m happy. That’s all.”
“Do you kiss a man every time you’re happy?”
“Every chance I get,” she assured him soberly. “You should’ve seen the lip-lock I laid on Marty Boyd last month when he told me my car passed its inspection.”
“That impressive, huh?”
“Well, I hate to brag, but it was enough of a kiss that I’m pretty sure he thinks we’re engaged now.”
And then, to her amazement, Brady smiled. Disheveled, miserable and, if she wasn’t mistaken, broken Brady Sheppard smiled. At her. It didn’t last long and for a moment, it seemed as if even that small bit of happiness pained him, but what else could she do but smile back?
Someone behind her cleared their throat. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
J.C. whirled around. Aidan stood at the other end of the kitchen, gazing shrewdly from her to Brady and back again. Her face flamed.
“Nothing that meant anything,” Brady said. “Isn’t that what you said, J.C.?”
“Uh…right.”
“Connie said you wanted to speak with me?” Aidan asked J.C.
Like Brady, Aidan was tall with broad shoulders and blond hair, but that was where the differences ended. His eyebrows were heavier, his lips fuller, his eyes more green than blue. And though it was the end of the day, his button-down shirt and khakis were still neatly pressed, as if wrinkles dared not mess with this cool-eyed man.
Thank God she and Brady had made the deal and she didn’t have to try to convince Aidan to do with business with her. Though Aidan was polite, the way he scowled at his brother made him seem about as approachable as a wolverine. And not the Hugh Jackman kind.
“No.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, yes, I did want to speak with you but now I guess I don’t have to…” The tension between the brothers was palpable. And nothing she wanted to get in the middle of. “I’d better get going.” She smiled at Aidan as she sidestepped him toward the family room. “I have…things. To do.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Brady said.
“Oh. That’s not necessary.”
But the expressions on the brothers’ faces told her it was. And far be it for her to argue.
“Bye, Aidan,” she said.
He nodded. “Nice to see you, Jane.”
As they walked back toward the foyer, she snuck a glance at Brady. He reached past her and opened the front door. “I’ll have Aidan call you with the details.”
“Thank you,” she said, careful not to touch him as she passed. She stepped off the porch and into the sunshine.
“I opened a savings account. For the baby.”
Shading her eyes with her hand, she looked up at him. He didn’t know how important it was for her to prove she could take care of herself. And the first step was to be able to pay her own way. When the office manager at Dr. Owens’s office had told her that her insurance wouldn’t cover all her expenses, she hadn’t been too worried. No, she’d done what Liz accused her of doing. She’d gone to her parents to take care of her.
While her parents were far from thrilled with the situation, they’d told her they’d support whatever decision she made regarding the baby. And that they’d be more than willing to cover her medical expenses.
But she wasn’t going to be that person anymore, the one who let everyone else take care of her. “We’ve been through—”
“My attorney will send you the account information. I’ll deposit money into it each month.” He stood gripping the porch rail, the muscles of his arms knotted. “You can do what you want with it. Use it or not. Either way, it’ll be there. And whatever’s left when the kid is eighteen will be turned over to him.”
“I don’t want to go over—”
“Do you really hate me so much that you’d deny your baby financial security?”
She made a soft sound of surprise. Was that what he thought? That she was doing this as some way to get back at him? That couldn’t be further from the truth. But really, what was it hurting if he put money into a bank? She was still trying to figure out how she was going to pay her doctor bills. Knowing she had a cushion for the future would be a huge relief. And as he pointed out, she didn’t have to use it.
She could still keep her pride.
She nodded. “Okay.”
“Thank you,” he said, as if she were the one doing something for him.
“Listen, you said you weren’t staying in Jewell and, well, in case I don’t…see you again…I want to wish you good luck. With whatever you do. And I…I want you to know…I don’t hate you,” she blurted. “I could never hate you.”
He regarded her intently, his eyes a brilliant blue. Her cheeks warmed. Her breath clogged in her lungs as the silence stretched on.
“Not that it matters,” she added feebly.
Okay, then. She gave him a half-hearted wave and walked away, hoping he couldn’t tell how unsteady her legs were.
As she opened her car door, his voice carried to her, soft as the cool breeze.
“It matters.”
“YOU MUST BE MAKING PROGRESS,” Aidan said when Brady came back into the kitchen. Aidan popped the top of a can of cola and took a drink. “I’m glad you’re stepping up and doing the right thing.”
Brady grunted and rolled his head side to side so that his neck cracked. Progress? He’d agreed to a business deal
he wasn’t entitled to make and had told J.C. about the account he’d set up for the baby.
But he was ditching her, leaving her to raise their kid on her own. He wouldn’t blame her if she did come after him with that machete.
And what had been up with that kiss? It’d taken every ounce of control he still had left not to pull her closer.
“When’s everything going to happen?” Aidan asked.
Brady picked out a dark chocolate from the box next to him and tossed it in his mouth, hoping to replace the lingering taste of J.C.’s kiss. “Everything?”
“You need to tell Mom.” Aidan waved his can. “It shouldn’t take too long to plan the wedding—”
“Wedding?” Brady choked out.
“Stop repeating everything I say. It’s pissing me off.”
Aidan’s lips thinned and he straightened. “Aren’t you and Jane getting married?”
“No.”
“No? That’s it?”
Brady pretended to consider that. “How about, hell no.”
Aidan tapped his fist against his thigh. “Then why did she seem so happy? Did you finalize a financial agreement about the baby?”
“We did.” Brady put the lid back on the half-eaten lasagna. Since there was no food at the cottage, he might as well take it back with him. If he took enough of his mom’s leftovers home, he could put off the inevitable trip to the store for another day or two. “I’m going to pay child support.” Whether she ever used his money, he had no way of saying.
“We’ll name you Father of the Year,” Aidan said.
And Brady wasn’t about to get into it again with his sanctimonious brother.
“As to the reason she seemed happy, that’s probably because I told her the Diamond Dust would purchase some of her homemade candy to sell.”
The silence was broken only by the soft ticking of the antique wall clock that’d belonged to their mother’s great-grandmother.
“You did what?” Aidan finally asked softly, a muscle jumping in his jaw.