by Nora Roberts
More, she was impressed with his thoroughness. The drawings were clean and professional. She doubted she’d have gotten better with an architect.
When she was done, she picked up the bid—meticulously clear—ran down the figures. And swallowed the lump of it.
“Well, Handsome Jack.” She set the paperwork down again. “You and your dad are hired.”
Jack let out a cheer, and since nobody told him not to, took another cookie.
Brody didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath, not until it wanted to expel in one great whoosh. He controlled it, eased back. It was the biggest job he’d taken on since moving back to West Virginia.
The work would keep him and his crew busy all through the winter—when building work was often slow. There’d be no need to cut back on his men, or their hours.
And the income would give him a whole lot of breathing room.
Over and above the vital practicalities, he’d wanted to get his hands on that building. The trick would be to keep them there, and off Kate.
“I appreciate the business.”
“Remember that when I drive you crazy.”
“You started out doing that. Got a pen?”
She smiled, rose to get one out of the drawer. Leaning over the table, she signed her name to the contract, dated it. “Your turn,” she said, handing him the pen.
When he was done, she took the pen back, looked over at Jack. “Jack?”
“Huh?” Crumbs dribbled from the corner of his mouth. Catching his father’s narrow stare, he swallowed. “I mean, yes, ma’am.”
“Can you write your name?”
“I can print it. I know all the alphabet, and how to spell Jack and Dad and some stuff.”
“Good. Well, come on over here and make it official.” She tilted her head at his blank look. “You drew some of the lines, didn’t you? You want to be hired, or not?”
Pure delight exploded on his face. “Okay!”
He scrambled down, scattering more crumbs. Taking the pen, he locked his tongue between his teeth and with painful care printed his name under his father’s signature.
“Look, Dad! That’s me.”
“Yeah, it sure is.”
Stupefied by emotion, Brody looked up, met Kate’s eyes. What the hell was he going to do now? She’d hit him at his weakest point.
“Jack, go wash your hands.”
“They’re not dirty.”
“Wash them anyway.”
“Right down the hall, Jack,” Kate said quietly. “Count one door, then two, on the side of the hand you write your name with.”
Jack made little grumbling sounds, but he skipped out of the room.
Brody got to his feet. She didn’t back off. No, she wouldn’t have, he thought. So their bodies bumped a little, and his went on full alert.
“That was nice. What you did, making him feel part of it.”
“He is part of it. That is clear.” And so was something else that needled into her heart. “It wasn’t a strategy, Brody.”
“I said it was nice.”
“Yes, but you’re also thinking—at least wondering if—it was also clever of me. A slick little ploy to get to you. I want to sleep with you, and I’m very goal oriented, but I draw the line at using your son to achieve the desired end.”
She snatched up his empty mug, started to turn. Brody laid a hand on her arm. “Okay, maybe I wondered. Now I’ll apologize for it.”
“Fine.”
He shifted, gripped her arm until she turned to face him. “Sincerely apologize, Kate.”
She relaxed. “All right. Sincerely accepted. He’s beautiful, and he’s great. It’s tough not to get stuck on him right off the bat.”
“I’m pretty stuck on him myself.”
“Yes, and he on you. It shows. I happen to like children, and admire loving parents. It only makes you more attractive.”
“I’m not going to sleep with you.” He wasn’t gripping her arm now, but sliding his hands down the length.
She smiled. “So you say.”
“I’m not going to mess up this job, complicate it and my life. I can’t afford…”
He’d had something definite to say. Decisive. But she slid her hands up his chest, over his shoulders.
“You’re not on the clock yet,” she murmured and lifted her mouth to his.
He closed the gap and lights exploded inside his head. Eruptions blasted inside his body. Her mouth was warm, tart, persuasive. The sensations simply took control of the two of them. Of him.
He meant to take her by the shoulders, pull her back. He meant to. He could hold her at arm’s length. And would.
In a little while.
But for now, for right now, he wanted to just lose himself in the sheer sensation. He wanted to have to hold her to keep his balance. She smelled dark. And dangerous.
It was irresistible. He was irresistible. He kissed like a dream, she thought, letting out a throaty little purr. As if it was all he’d ever done, all he ever wanted to do.
His mouth was soft, and hot. His hands hard, and strong. Was there anything sexier in a man than strength? The strength that came from muscles and from the heart.
He made her mind spin a dozen lazy pirouettes, with her pulse throbbing thick to keep the beat.
She wanted to send that rhythm speeding. Wanted it more than she’d anticipated. And floating on that lovely mix of anticipation, sensation and desire, she let her head fall back.
“That was nice.” Her fingers slid up into his hair. “Why don’t we do that again?”
He wanted to—to start and finish in one huge gulp. And his six-year-old son was splashing in the sink down the hall. “I can’t do this.”
“I think we just proved you could.”
“I’m not going to do this.” Now he did hold her at arm’s length. Her eyes were dark, her mouth soft. “Damn, you muddle a man’s brain.”
“Apparently not enough. But it’s a beginning.”
He let her go. It was the safest move. And stepped back. “You know, it’s been a long time since I…played this game.”
“It’ll come back to you. You may have been on the bench for a while, but it’ll come back. Why don’t we go out to dinner and start your training?”
“I washed both sides,” Jack announced as he hopped back into the room. “Can I have another cookie?”
“No.” He couldn’t take his eyes off hers. Couldn’t seem to do anything but stare and want. And wonder. “We have to go. Say thank you to Kate.”
“Thanks, Kate.”
“You’re welcome, Jack. Come back and see me, okay?”
“Okay.” He grinned at her as his father bundled him into his coat. “Will you have hot chocolate?”
“I’ll make sure of it.”
She walked them to the door, stood in the opening to watch them climb into the truck. Jack waved enthusiastically. Brody didn’t look back at all.
A cautious man, she thought as they drove off. Well, she could hardly blame him. If she’d had something as precious as that little boy to worry about, she’d have been cautious, too.
But now that she’d met the son, she was even more interested in the man. He was a good father, one who obviously paid attention. Jack had been warmly dressed, healthy, friendly, happy.
It couldn’t be easy, raising a child alone. But Brody O’Connell was doing it, and doing it well.
She respected that. Admired that. And, was attracted to that.
Maybe she’d been a little hasty, acting on pure chemistry. But she pressed her lips together, remembering the feel and taste of his and wondered who could blame her.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt to take more time, to get to know him better.
After all, neither of them were going anywhere.
Chapter Four
“Earthquakes,” Kate said.
“Ice storms,” Brandon countered.
“Smog.”
“Snow shovels.”
She tossed back
her hair. “The joy of the changing seasons.”
He pulled her hair. “The beach.”
They’d been having the debate for years—East Coast versus West. At the moment, Kate was using it to take her mind off the fact that Brandon was leaving in under an hour.
Just the post-Christmas blues, she assured herself. All that excitement and preparation, then the lovely warmth of a traditional Christmas at home had kept her so busy, and so involved.
The Kimballs had followed their Christmas Day celebrations with a two-day trip to New York, rounding everything off with all the chaos and confusion of their sprawling family.
Now it was nearly a new year. Freddie, her sister, was back in New York with her husband, Nick, and the kids. And Brandon was heading back to L.A.
She glanced out at the tidy, quiet main street as they walked. And smiled thinly. “Road rage.”
“Hard-bodied blondes in convertibles.”
“You are so shallow.”
“Yeah.” He hooked his arm around her neck. “You love that about me. Hey, check it out. You got men with trucks.”
Still pouting, she looked down the street and saw the work trucks and laborers. Brody, she mused, didn’t waste any time.
They circled around, picked their way over rubble and hillocks of winter dry grass to the rear of the building where the activity seemed to be centered. There was noise—someone was playing country music on a portable radio. There were scents—dirt, sweat and, oddly enough, mayonnaise.
Kate walked around a wheelbarrow, stepped cautiously down a ramp and peered into her basement.
Thick orange extension cords snaked to portable work lights that hung from beams or posts. Their bare-bulb glare made her basement resemble some archeological dig, still in its nasty stages.
She spotted Brody, in filthy jeans and boots, hammering a board into place on a form. Though his breath puffed out visibly as he worked, he’d stripped off his jacket. She could see the intriguing ripple of muscle under flannel.
She’d been right, Kate noted, he looked extremely good in a tool belt.
A laborer shoveled dirt into another wheelbarrow. And Jack was plopped down, digging with a small shovel and dumping his take—or most of it—into a bucket.
The boy spotted her first. Hopped up and danced. “I’m digging out the basement! I get a dollar. I get to help pour concrete. I got a truck for Christmas. You wanna see?”
“You bet.”
She had taken another step down the ramp before Brody came over and blocked her. “You’re not dressed to muck around down here.”
She glanced down at his work boots, then her own suede sneakers. “Can’t argue with that. Can you spare a minute?”
“All right. Jack, take a break.”
Brody came up the ramp, squinting against the flash of winter sunlight, with his son scrambling behind him.
“This is my brother, Brandon. Brand, Brody O’Connell and Jack.”
“Nice to meet you.” Brody held up a grimy hand rather than offering to shake. “I’ve watched you play. It’s a pleasure.”
“Thanks. I’ve seen your work, same goes.”
“Are you the baseball player?” Eyes huge, Jack stared up at Brandon.
“That’s right.” Brandon crouched down. “You like baseball?”
“Uh-huh. I saw your mitt. I’ve got one, too. And a bat and a ball and everything.”
Knowing Brandon would keep Jack entertained, Kate moved a few steps away to give them room. “I didn’t realize you were starting so soon,” she said to Brody.
“Figured we’d take advantage of the break in the weather. Warm spell’s supposed to last a few more days. We can get the basement dug out, formed up and poured before the next cold snap.”
Warm was relative, she thought. It would be considerably chillier in the old stone walled basement, and considerably damper than out here in the sunlight. “I’m not complaining. How was your Christmas?”
“Great.” He shifted so that his crew could muscle the next barrow of dirt up the ramp. “Yours?”
“Wonderful. I see you’ve expanded your crew. Was that dollar a day in my bid?”
“School’s out,” he said shortly. “I keep him with me. He knows the rules, and the men don’t mind him.”
She lifted her brows. “My, my. Sensitivo.”
Brody hissed out a breath. “Sorry. Some clients don’t like me having a kid on a job site.”
“I’m not one of them.”
“Hey, O’Connell, can you spare this guy for a bit?”
Brody glanced over, noted Jack’s grimy hand was clasped in Brandon’s. “Well…”
“We’ve got a little business up at the house,” Brandon went on. “I’ll drop him back down on my way to the airport. Half hour.”
“Please, Dad. Can I?”
“I—”
“My brother’s an idiot,” Kate said with an easy smile. “But a responsible one.”
No, Brody thought, he was the idiot, getting the jitters every time Jack went off with someone new. “Sure. Wash your hands off in the water bucket first, Jacks.”
“Okay! Wait just a minute, okay? Just a minute.” Jack raced off to splash some of the dirt away.
“I’ll try to stop through on my way to spring training.”
“Yeah. Okay.” She wouldn’t cry. She would not cry. “Stay away from those hard-bodied blondes.”
“Not a chance.” Brandon snatched her up, held tight. “Miss you,” he murmured.
“Me, too.” She pressed her face into the curve of his neck, then stepped back with a bright smile. “Take care of that leg, slugger.”
“Hey, you’re talking to Iron Man. Take care of your own. Let’s go, Jack.” He took the boy’s marginally clean and wet hand, shot a salute to Brody, and started off.
“Bye, Dad! Bye. I’ll be back.”
“Your brother got a problem with his leg?”
“Pulled some tendons. Bad slide. Well, I’ll let you get back to work.” She kept the smile on her face until she’d rounded to the front of the house. Then she sat on the steps and had a nice little cry.
When Brody walked out to his truck ten minutes later, she was still there. Tears had dried on her cheeks. A few more sparkled in her lashes.
“What? What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ve been crying.”
She sniffled, shrugged. “So?”
He wanted to leave it at that. Really wanted to just get his…what the hell had he come out for? The problem was he’d never been able to walk away from tears. Resigned, he crossed the sidewalk and sat beside her.
“What’s wrong?”
“I hate saying goodbye. I wouldn’t have to say goodbye if he didn’t insist on living three thousand miles away in stupid California. The dope.”
Ah, her brother. “Well…” Because a fresh tear had spilled over, Brody yanked a bandanna from his pocket. “He works there.”
“Excuse me, but I’m not feeling particularly logical.” She took the bandanna. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
She dabbed at tears, then stared across the street. “Do you have any siblings?”
“No.”
“Want one? I’ll sell him cheap.” She sighed, leaned back on the steps. “My sister’s in New York. Brand’s in L.A. I’m in West Virginia. I never thought we’d end up so scattered.”
He remembered the way she and her brother had embraced, that natural flow of love. “You don’t look scattered to me.”
Kate looked back at him. In a moment, her eyes cleared. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. That was exactly the right thing to say. So.” She drew in a breath, handed him back his bandanna. “Take my mind off all this for a minute. What’d you do for Christmas? The big, noisy family thing?”
“Jack makes plenty of noise. He got me up at five.” Remembering made Brody smile. “I think I peeled him off the ceiling around two that afternoon.”
�
��Did he make it through Christmas dinner?”
Brody’s smile faded. “Yeah, barely.” He moved his shoulder. “We went over to his grandparents’ for that. We live in the same town,” he said. “But you could say we’re scattered.”
“I’m sorry.”
“They dote on Jack. That’s the important thing.”
And why the hell did he bring it up? Maybe, he thought, maybe because it was stuck in his craw. Maybe because his father continued to dismiss everything he’d done with his life, everything he wanted to do.
“I’m having the dirt dumped around the other side of the house. You might want to have it spread there, start a garden or something in the spring.”
“That’s a good thought.”
“Well.” He got to his feet. “I’ve got to get back to work, before the boss docks my pay.”
“Brody—” She wasn’t sure what she meant to say, or how she meant to say it. Then the moment passed as Brandon pulled up to the curb in his spiffy rental car.
“Dad!” Jack was already fighting to free himself from the seat belt. “Wait till you see! Brand gave me his mitt, and a baseball with his name wrote on it and everything.”
“Written on it,” Brody said automatically, then caught the bullet of his son as Jack shot toward him. “Let’s have a look.” He examined the mitt and ball, both warm from Jack’s tight grip. “These are really special, and you’ll have to take special care of them.”
“I will. I promise. Thanks, Brand. Thanks! I’m going to keep them forever. Can we show the guys now, Dad?”
“You bet.” Brody hitched Jack higher on his hip, looked down at Brandon. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure. Remember, Jack. Keep your eye on the ball.”
“I will! Bye.”
“Safe trip,” Brody added, and carted Jack around to show off his treasures to the crew.
Kate let out a little sigh, leaned down into Brandon’s open window. “Maybe you’re not such a jerk, after all.”
“Hell of a kid.” He pinched Kate’s chin. “You got an eye on the dad, I noticed.”