by Judi Fennell
“Stay here,” he whispered, then slid out of his seat and strode around to her side.
He opened the door and Beth felt as if she floated out of the car, his hand helping her down. Then he tucked her arm beneath his, pulling her close so that her shoulder brushed his bicep, his scent tickling her senses. She couldn’t name the cologne, but she could definitely name the Bryan Manley part of it; she’d learned his scent so well from her home. It lingered on the towels he’d folded and the one he’d hung up after his shower in her bathroom, and on Mike’s clothes that she was, at some point, going to wash. And on her pink robe . . .
She could smell Bryan all over her house. Even in Maggie’s hair when she’d kissed her good-night last night.
This wasn’t good. He was becoming too much a part of her life. Too much of her focus. Yet she was powerless to stop it.
He led her up the steps to a gazebo decorated with hanging baskets of red geraniums and twinkling Christmas lights along the railing.
Bryan stopped in the center and stood in front of her, never once letting go of her hand. If anything, he intertwined their fingers tighter. Held on to her more securely. Took a step closer and raised his other hand to cup her cheek, then drew his thumb across her lower lip.
The butterflies in Beth’s stomach went fluttering so fast they were stealing her breath.
“I want to kiss you, Beth.” He nuzzled her nose with his.
She licked her lips, her eyes drawn to his. “You don’t need to ask.”
It was all the permission he needed. His thumb drifted away as his lips descended onto hers and, oh God, it was amazing. His lips on hers, teasing, tasting, sliding across hers with such promise, Beth had to gasp to get air going in.
Dear lord, the man could kiss.
His arms slid around her, pressing her against him, and the kiss wasn’t just a kiss any longer. It was a full-out event. Beth had to slide her arms up his back and grab his shoulders—his incredibly strong shoulders—and his arms tightened around her. His tongue delved into her mouth, sending her nerve endings to tremble, and he stole every ounce of air from her lungs. But Beth didn’t care because if he just kept kissing her, if he just kept holding her and pressing against her and wanting her, she could go on like this forever.
And the kiss did go on. As she’d thought, this was no quick nibble. Bryan was tasting every part of her lips, exploring every inch of her mouth, his breath hot and heavy against her cheek, his arms strong and supportive around her, his hands—dear God, his hands . . . She had a thing for a man’s hands and Bryan’s were strong and big and capable and oh so sensitive when he swirled his fingertips over her back, igniting another whole round of flames beneath her skin.
This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t be standing here, beneath the gazebo with its hanging flowers and soft lights and the pond gurgling in the background, a practical fairyland, kissing the Bryan Manley.
No. Not the Bryan Manley. Bryan Manley.
Bryan.
She was standing here, running her palms across the broad back and shoulders of Bryan, the guy who was here to clean her home, but who’d slid inside it and given it new life. All in less than a week.
Beth stiffened. Less than a week. She couldn’t feel something this strong for someone in less than a week. It was crazy. It was stupid. And the fact that it was the Bryan Manley, movie star, was unbelievable. At some point she was going to have to wake up from this dream and deal with reality.
Then he slanted his head the other direction and Beth realized that reality had shifted a few degrees to the left.
Bryan ran his hand down her spine, stopping just above the curve in her back that led to her backside. God, she wanted him to touch her there. To cup her and squeeze and pull her against him so there was no doubt how he was feeling.
But Bryan didn’t. As a matter of fact, he gentled the kiss, pulling back just a bit so there was a sliver of air between them.
Beth shivered.
“Cold?” Bryan whispered against her lips.
She shook her head—because she was too filled with desire to be able to reply coherently.
He stroked his knuckles down her cheek, his gaze boring into hers. “You’re right. You’re so hot I forgot myself. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like this, Beth. All I can say is that I wanted to kiss you so badly that I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been wondering about this. Imagining it, fantasizing about it ever since I first laid eyes on you. And when I found out you were widowed . . .”
He drew in a shuddering breath and leaned his forehead against hers. “I couldn’t think about anything else. I had to have you in my arms. Had to know what kissing you was like.”
Beth licked her lips and felt a thrill run through her when his breath caught. “And now that you do?”
Bryan caught her bottom lip between his teeth, then ran the tip of his tongue along it. “Now I want to know more.”
For a moment—okay, maybe two . . . or seven—Beth saw that image. Them, in her bed. The lights low, maybe some candles, soft music playing, and Bryan above her, staring down so intently into her eyes as he stroked the hair from her face, telling her in minute detail everything he wanted to do to her . . .
Beth clenched her thighs against the ache there that was, well, not surprising exactly because she knew what was what, but it’d been so long that she’d sometimes wondered if she’d still remember how.
She remembered.
Bryan caught the movement and tugged her hips into him. “Hey. Where you going? I won’t bite.” He slid his hand low on her back and rounded it over the curve of her backside, pressing her into him. “Not unless you want me to, of course.”
He wanted her. There was no question of that and no way Beth would ever forget what that meant. Bryan wanted her and, God help her, Beth wanted him. Here. Now. She didn’t care. Didn’t care that it was a public park. That it was against the ordinances. That her name would be in all the local papers on the police blotter if they were caught. That it was wide open and anyone could walk by . . . It didn’t matter. Bryan would be hers.
“Beth . . .” His breath was hot on her neck. “You are driving me wild, do you know that?”
She could only nod because, really, there was no air going in.
Especially when he nibbled on her neck like that.
“God help me, you’re a beautiful woman.” He cupped her jaw with his other hand and nuzzled her ear, sending fireworks rocketing through her. Her knees were threatening to give out, so Beth hung on as if her life depended on it. Somehow, she had a feeling it did.
That was the moment reality came crashing back with a vengeance. She was nuts. This was nuts. He was Bryan Manley. He was a movie star. He wasn’t a settle-down-in-the-burbs kind of guy and she was not about to live his lifestyle.
Not that he’d even asked her to.
Right. There was that.
Beth let go of the hair at the base of his neck she hadn’t been aware she was threading her fingers through.
She un-arched her back so her breasts—her aching breasts—were no longer plastered up against that magnificent chest. So her pelvis was no longer in contact with that glorious rise beneath his pants that promised heaven, but only for a very limited time.
She had kids to think about. A heart to protect. Bryan Manley wasn’t what she needed in her life.
“What’s wrong?” He pulled back and tilted her chin up with one finger. “Where’d you go?”
She glanced away, but then sucked in a breath—finally!—and looked back at him. “I can’t do this, Bryan.”
Something flashed across his face. Disappointment? That was a surprise. It wasn’t as if she were the only woman in town. Hell, several of the moms had already made it abundantly clear that they were more than open to the possibility. No, she had to be reading things into it that weren’t there because even if Bryan did want her, it was only to scratch this very pleasant, very hot, very complicated, itch.
• • �
��
GOD, he was an ass. Kissing her in public like this when he had zero intention of staying around. He was so used to the LA lifestyle that he’d forgotten that he shouldn’t do this, especially knowing that Beth wasn’t a casual type of woman.
He let go of her cheek. Her smooth, soft cheek that tasted so good, his fingertips brushing that hollow beneath her ear. That sexy spot that smelled like her and drove him wild.
He resisted the urge to brush his fingers across her lips. That would just be cruel—to him. He knew what those lips tasted like. Knew their shape and their texture and their softness. Knew how they parted when he wanted to slide his tongue between them, and how her bottom one felt between his teeth. Beth had been designed for him in every way but for the fact that she was tied to the very thing he never wanted to be tied to.
So he let her go with a deep sigh and set her from him. “I better take you home.”
And leave her there.
Alone.
Chapter Twelve
SHE had to get out of the house before Bryan showed up.
It was Beth’s first thought when she opened her eyes the next morning. The morning after.
God, she’d wanted him. In the carnal sense. The biblical sense. Every sense she possessed. But then she’d have to give him up.
She’d done that before, and it sucked. Losing Mike had been devastating. She couldn’t do that again. And she had a feeling losing Bryan could be just as damaging.
Still . . . wouldn’t it be better to have the memories?
Beth clutched her pillow to her abdomen and rolled over, squeezing her legs together as she did so. She ached. She wanted. Hell, she was even getting wet just thinking about what could have been.
She couldn’t be here today. Couldn’t see him in her home, bending over, reaching up, moving around as if he had every right and not want him. Because she did. Here, in the privacy of her own bedroom—her lonely bedroom—she could admit that she wanted to know what it was like. Even if only for a few days.
That scared her. She’d be opening herself up to too much. And her kids . . . her kids already liked him. If she took their relationship to a new level, would the kids pick up on it? And what would happen when he left?
Beth sat up and tugged her T-shirt down over her aching thighs. Yes, she definitely was not going to be here today. Maybe spending time with five I-don’t-wanna-go-shopping kids was just the thing she needed to get her mind off one incredibly hot movie star.
• • •
BRYAN didn’t want to get out of bed. It had nothing to do with that stupid job, and everything to do with the wet dream he’d just had about Beth. Yeah, him. A wet dream. He hadn’t had one of those since he’d been fifteen. But Beth . . . God he wanted her. And his subconscious had let him have her.
He reached for the tissues and cleaned up. He was in a shitload of trouble if she could do this to him in a week. He still had three more to go and they couldn’t go by soon enough. In the meantime, he’d have to do something to keep his mind off her.
Going to her home and cleaning her bedroom was not it.
He wanted her so much it scared him. How had this woman with five children commandeered his thoughts so completely? How had she suddenly become the first thing he thought of when he woke up and the last thing he thought about before he went to sleep? And every minute in between?
Kissing her had only made it worse. Now he knew what it was like to hold her in his arms. To taste her and feel her and inhale her. Want her. Because he did. So damn much it scared him.
She made him question things he’d never thought he’d question. Things he’d made up his mind about years ago. But one tousled-haired, green-eyed smile and he was reevaluating everything. And he didn’t want to face her, see her, hear her, want her while he was doing that—because Beth could make him forget his own name, never mind his heretofore firmly held principles.
Only the thought of Mac giving him hell got him out of his bed, into the shower, and into that hideous uniform that was getting too tight in the crotch every time he thought about Beth.
He took a huge breath as he stood on her front porch, willing himself to ring the doorbell in a way he hadn’t had to when he’d walked into this sentence on his first day. Then, it’d been dread. Now . . . Now it was fright. The thought of caring for her. Of wanting her. Of trying to make something work between them while still maintaining his career and industry status.
Jason answered the door. “Dude. Mom’s shopping.”
“Jason.” Bryan peeled the Manley Maids cap off his head, sending off a quick thank you to the goddess of shopping. “Did you finish your room? I plan to give each room a thorough cleaning today.” Work up a good sweat and keep his mind and body busy enough so if he did see her, he’d be too tired to respond.
He hoped that idea worked. Hell, she was out and he still wanted her.
“Doesn’t it bother you that you’re cleaning other people’s houses?” Jason asked. “That you’re doing what they should?”
There was a reason for his question, but Bryan wasn’t sure what it was. But Jason wanted something, and his hair and pants and sullen attitude screamed of a need for attention, so Bryan subjugated his pride to see if he could help Beth’s son out.
“Nothing wrong with an honest day’s work. Besides, your mom’s friends paid for me to be here. No different than a plumber or electrician.”
“Yeah, but they don’t wear something like that.” Jason flipped the hair off his forehead, so Bryan got a glimpse of the same green eyes Beth had.
“Clothes don’t make the man, Jason. Actions do. Your word does. I promised my sister I’d help her out. I agreed to take on this contract, therefore, I’m here.”
“But just for a certain time, right? A month?”
“Yeah, a month.”
“Blows.”
“It’s all what you make of it.” Bryan nodded for Jason to sit in the chair in the family room, then he sat on the sofa across from it, forcing Jason to look at him. The conversation was a start, but if he was going to get through to this kid, if he was going to have the opportunity to do some good here by showing Jason the reality of life so he’d help his mom instead of creating more mess every day, then he had to engage him.
“I don’t like cleaning, Jason. But it needs to be done and once you do it, you feel good that you’ve taken pride in your house or your car or your room or your locker, and owned it. When you own something, be it a thing or your action, you care for it. And by doing that, you care for you. For who you are, how you present yourself to the world.”
“You trying to get me to cut my hair? Mom doesn’t, you know.”
Bryan scrubbed his own. “Your hair is your hair. That’s between you and your mom and I don’t know why you even brought it up. I haven’t said a thing about cutting it.”
“You thought it, though.”
“What I think doesn’t matter. It’s what you think that does.” No way was he going to get in a discussion about hair. Time would extract its own revenge when Jason looked back on the pictures from now. “I’m just saying you need to take pride in your room and this house. Not for just your mom, but for you, too.”
“Dude, I couldn’t care less about this house.”
“Really? What if you had to move?”
Jason’s head shot up. “We have to move? Mom said we don’t. That the life insurance covered it. That we’re fine.”
Shit. He hadn’t meant to worry the kid or bring up anything to do with his dad’s death. He was blowing this. “If your mom said that, then she means it. I’m just saying, this is your home. Your mom’s working really hard to keep it that way, and you could give her a hand by keeping your room neat and picking up some more around the place. I’m only going to be here a month. After that, it’ll be on you guys to keep the place in shape. You might not want to create more mess. And you might be able to get more privileges if you actually do some of the work.”
“No clue what you’re
talking about.” Jason went back to sulking, crossed his arms, and plunked his feet on the coffee table—knocking a pile of magazines onto the floor. And didn’t move to pick them up.
Bryan arched an eyebrow.
With an award-winning sigh, Jason dragged his lanky body up off the cushions enough to retrieve the pile. He plopped them down on the table in another mess.
Bryan just stared at him.
With another sigh that could probably be heard in the next county, Jason restacked the magazines, then glared at Bryan.
“Not too tough to do.” Bryan nodded at the stack.
“I guess.”
“Good.” Bryan stood up. “Then how about you tackle the room? Just think how happy your mom will be when she gets home.”
Never mind how happy Bryan would be when Beth got home.
• • •
BUT Bryan wasn’t there when Beth got home, and Beth had mixed emotions about that.
She couldn’t get that kiss out of her mind. Which went with her being out of her mind. Bryan Manley was out of her sphere. Her realm. And it’d been driven home to her today at the stores.
There’d been the stares. The whispers. It’d started like a light breeze across a meadow when she’d walked in, but as she went through the aisles, she could feel the breeze picking up steam, the metaphor for a storm brewing disappointingly accurate. By the time they were halfway through the grocery store, she knew she wasn’t going to outrun the winds of gossip by the time she reached the last aisle.
Sure enough, there’d been people hanging in the aisle, just waiting for her. The questions about Bryan . . .
No, she didn’t know what his favorite color was, and no she didn’t know how tall he was (just the right height for kissing) or how broad his shoulders were (broad enough to wrap her up and blow her mind) or what his next movie was going to be or if he was dating anyone or why he’d come back to town . . . The questions went on and on, as if she were his publicist.
Someone had even asked her that and it’d been on the tip of her tongue to tell them that, no, she wasn’t his publicist; she was the woman he’d been kissing last night at the Palmer Park gazebo, but that would only bring on more questions and the kids were already overwhelmed by this round.