by Judi Fennell
And he was smack dab in the middle of it. Wouldn’t his brothers be laughing their asses off if they could see him now? And considering he had dinner with them and Gran tonight, he didn’t need to give them any clue what was going on here.
What is going on here, Manley?
He didn’t want to analyze it too closely.
“Okay, guys, let’s tie up the post.” He’d rigged four lines to the post and gave each of the older kids, Kelsey included, a rope with a stake on the end. “Maggie, you watch the level to make sure that water bubble stays in the middle, okay?”
“Aye, aye, captain.” Maggie saluted him. For some reason, she equated the dry cement with the beach and had been making nautical references all afternoon.
Whatever worked.
Bryan held the post straight while the kids worked the stakes into the ground. He’d shown Jason how to adjust the ropes so once they were in, he could go around and shore them up.
“Okay, everyone, while that sets, we’re going to build the clothesline. You guys ready to help out?”
“Yeah!”
“Cool!”
“Sure.”
“Whatever.” The last was from Kelsey, who wasn’t as eager as the boys but who, nevertheless, had chosen construction over helping her mom prepare lunch.
Speaking of which, every so often, Beth would step out onto the deck in her pink shorts and flowing white top, her feet bare, and her hair its natural state of windblown, and Bryan would have to find his breath yet again because she kept stealing it.
Thankfully, the whirr of the miter saw was enough to get his body’s reaction under control—nothing like having a spinning steel blade with nasty teeth at groin height.
He measured out the angle, matched it to the drawing he’d made, and set it up for Tommy to make the cut. “Now, remember, Tom, take it slow. You don’t want to drive the blade down too fast, or the wood will splinter and we don’t need that.” He lowered Tommy’s safety goggles in place. “Remember, safety first.”
“I know. Mom always says that.”
Of course she did because Beth was a great mom.
Each kid got a turn to work the saw and the drill, but by the time they were on their second screws, the novelty had worn off. Only Maggie hung around to help him compile the frame and string the rope along it. They finished just as Beth carried a tray of sandwiches onto the patio.
“Lunch!” she called out.
Kids came running from all parts of the house. Some that didn’t even belong to Beth.
“Kelsey, you and Amanda please bring the iced tea out here. Mark, you grab the cups. Tommy, the ice. Kevin, you can bring a big spoon, and, Jason, there are chips and fruit on the island.”
“What about me, Mommy? I want to get something.” Maggie tugged on Beth’s shirt again.
And just like before, Bryan wasn’t about to tell her to stop. Especially when the neckline dipped lower and the hint of cleavage she’d had going on was more than just a hint.
Not that he could have said anything anyway because his mouth had dried up. His throat, too, and his chest was constricting as blood flow headed south.
God Almighty, he was a dog. Her kids were here, for Christ’s sake. Neighbor kids, too. It was inappropriate. It was stupid. It was just plain wrong.
But it didn’t stop him from looking.
She had a pink bra on. Light pink, a shade darker than her skin, and Bryan’s imagination went into overdrive. He wanted to peel that shirt off her, up over her head, then slide his palms down her arms and around her back, undoing her bra and slipping it off, revealing her to him in tiny tantalizing glimpses, brushing his fingertips gently over her skin, causing her to shiver. Then he’d cup her, his thumbs stroking her nipples, watching them harden as he lowered his head just as she said—
“Do you want something, Bryan?”
Thank God he looked up without telling her exactly what he wanted. Thank God he looked up before he just took it.
Her entire family was staring at him.
“Are you okay, Bryan? You look kinda weird.” Tommy handed him a glass of something. “See? We told you it was too much work. That’s why me and Mark took a break.”
He gulped the drink. Iced tea. Good. He needed something to clear his head.
He finished the glass with a big ahhhh, then wiped his mouth with his forearm just for the boys.
Beth rolled her eyes and handed him a napkin. “I swear, you boys never outgrow that.”
“You’re right. It’s too much fun.” He used the napkin to prove he wasn’t the heathen she’d think he was if she could read his thoughts.
“So when are we gonna put the top on the pole?” Mark asked, reaching across the table for the chips.
“Mark Joseph Hamilton, we do not reach across the table. Especially when we have guests.”
“But Bryan’s not a guest. He’s—”
That stumped him. Stumped Bryan, too. What exactly was he? Not an employee—he didn’t work for her. He worked for Mac. He could be an outside contractor, but he doubted the kids would know what that was.
“He’s a member of the family!” Maggie popped up from under the picnic table, squashing the massive cat in her arms. “Just like Mrs. Beecham!”
The cat let out a long, bothered, “Mrrrrooooowwwww,” making all of them laugh.
Good thing, because Bryan was about to do anything but.
A member of the family. Was that how Maggie saw him? Was that how they all saw him? Well, the kids. Beth knew better. But what did she think of Maggie’s declaration?
He risked a glance at her. Stricken was the word that came to mind.
Oh, great. She was horrified. Upset. Not on board with the idea. Then again, he wasn’t, either. But the kids . . . This wasn’t good for the kids. They couldn’t think that about him.
He’d known letting himself get reeled in wasn’t a good idea, but he’d been able to handle it. The kids on the other hand . . . He had to do something about this.
• • •
BRYAN finished early.
Beth ought to be thankful about it. And she was. Sort of.
They needed to talk. What Maggie had said at lunch . . .
She couldn’t get the idea out of her head. And it was a bad idea. Bad for her kids to think it. Bad for her to want it. Bad because Bryan had looked as if someone had stuck a hot poker up his—
Out of the mouth of a five-year-old, and there was nothing Beth could do to undo it. And she needed to do something about it. Maggie had been distracted by Mrs. Beecham, and then Kelsey had wisely kept her occupied so she was out of Bryan’s hair, but her statement still hung over them.
A member of the family.
She’d never thought there’d be another man she’d even consider having in Mike’s home. In Mike’s bed. But Bryan, with his sexy good looks and the amazing way he kissed, and most of all the way he was with her kids—and with her, if the truth be told—he’d wiggled in under her defenses and made her want Maggie’s description to be true.
He’d said something about tackling the garage, and off he’d gone. Hadn’t even asked Jason to help, which they had discussed earlier. She’d been undecided as to whether to press the issue at the moment, but Jason had suddenly decided to keep his younger brothers entertained. Never getting that kind of attention from him, they’d lapped it up and the three of them were off devising a Quidditch field. Kelsey, too, had suddenly become interested in braiding Maggie’s hair, and the two of them had disappeared upstairs for the rest of the afternoon. Beth was almost afraid to see the mess in her bathroom once she heard the tub go on, but the mess that was hovering over the picnic table was enough for one day.
Her cell phone rang as she closed the front door after Bryan left. Silly her, her heart started pounding, thinking it was him. Though why he’d be calling her when he hadn’t spoken two words to her all afternoon was a mystery.
It was Kara Leopold, sadly. No, gladly. No sense wishing for what couldn’t—and
shouldn’t—be. “Hey, Kar, what’s up?”
“Tomorrow night. You have to bring him. My nephew is coming. He wants to break into acting and if he could just talk to Bryan, he might have a shot.”
“Kar, I haven’t even asked him to come.” And wouldn’t now. “He might be busy.” Oh, he was busy. Whether he knew it or not.
“You are kidding me! You haven’t asked him? Why? Are you trying to keep him all to yourself? You don’t want anyone else around him?”
Beth held the phone from her ear and looked at it in surprise. Yes, that was Kara’s name on her caller ID, but the woman on the phone? Beth didn’t know who she was. “Are you crazy? Do you even hear yourself? I am not keeping Bryan Manley all to myself and I am not going to ask him to the happy hour so you can grill him about getting Dylan into the business. The man’s on a break from all that. He’s cleaning my house, for Pete’s sake.”
“And your pipes? Is he cleaning those?”
Beth’s mouth fell open and she shook her head. “I don’t like what you’re insinuating. You chose him for this job, not me. I had no say in the matter. Matter of fact, I distinctly remember you and Jenna both saying that if I refused your gift, you’d never speak to me again.” Right about now, that sounded pretty good.
“I just think it’s pretty selfish of you to keep him in your home all day and not let any of us hang out with him.”
“He’s not here to make friends, Kar. Here’s here to work, remember?”
“Yeah, well all work and no play makes Bryan a very bored guy. Bring him.”
No way in hell. She’d seen glimpses of the female feeding frenzies Bryan instilled; she wasn’t inflicting her friends on him. Who knows, the rest of them might end up as crazed as Kara and she’d end up with no friends. And no Bryan.
A member of the family.
No. She wasn’t going to end up with that, either. And that was how it should be.
Chapter Twenty
YOU look awful pretty in green, Bryan. Matches your eyes.”
Bryan clenched his fists as he waited in the living room in Gran’s new assisted living facility. Sean loved needling him and while, most of the time, he could give as good as he got, tonight was not the night. “Don’t push it, Scene.” There. Let Sean stew on his old nickname. Always pissed him off when they were kids and, right now, Bryan wouldn’t mind someone picking a fight with him. He needed to work off this . . . this . . .
This what? Anger? No, he wasn’t angry. Terror? Yeah, that might be it.
Frustration?
Hell yes. He was definitely frustrated.
And the damn uniform wasn’t helping any.
He picked up a copy of People and thumbed through it, but pictures of hot women in barely there dresses weren’t helping, either. None were as beautiful as Beth.
He tossed the magazine onto the table. “Seriously. How does Mac expect us to call ourselves Manley Maids when we’re wearing the most un-manly pants in the history of work uniforms? See? Now that’s a work uniform.”
It was the PR shot from his last movie, where he’d had bombs bursting behind him, a gun in each hand, and a woman clinging to each arm. Bikini-clad women. Back in the days when he wasn’t frustrated.
“Hey, I’m up for giving Mac the money for new uniforms.” Liam slapped Sean on the shoulder when he arrived. “I feel like a frickin’ girl in those clothes.”
“We could sing like one, too,” said Sean, adjusting himself. “Who the hell designed them?”
“I did.”
Oh shit. Gran.
“I take it there’s a problem?”
“I’m sorry, Gran,” said Sean. “We didn’t know—”
“I realize that, Sean. I know you boys would never deliberately hurt me.” She touched Bryan’s arm and he bent down to kiss her cheek, trying to undo some of the damage their comments must have done.
“The uniform’s fine, Gran,” he whispered. He’d put up with this thing if it meant not hurting her.
She raised an eyebrow at him, skepticism etched across her face. “So you boys tell me what needs to be done and I’ll work on another design.”
Bryan recognized that look. She was determined to fix it. And if one of them didn’t give her any direction, God only knew which direction she’d go.
He took a deep breath and took the plunge. At least he might get something good for the three of them if he spoke up now. “They’re a bit, uh, tight, Gran.”
“Tight, how?” Gran asked as if the answer wasn’t going to embarrass the hell out of all of them as she led them down the hall to a private dining area like the dame of the manor.
“You know, Gran, tight.” Bryan nodded to the residents they passed. Here, he was just Catherine Manley’s grandson and he liked that he could be just that. The bright lights were great, but sometimes, it was nice just to be him.
Liam held the door open for their grandmother and they followed her in like ducklings. Bryan hid his smile. His brothers used to call him the ugly one. That picture in People told a different story, and if his face and his body were the tickets to never having to worry about putting food on his table again, so be it.
“Sean, you bring the chicken over to the table. Liam, the potatoes. And Bryan, you can pour the wine. But not those Hollywood-sized drinks you’re used to. I don’t want any of you boys getting drunk.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He rolled his eyes. Hollywood-sized drinks. He’d tried to bring her out to the west coast a few times to show her it wasn’t the Sodom and Gomorrah she thought, but Gran wouldn’t hear of it. She wasn’t getting on a plane at her age and she could see Bryan better on TV than with hordes of people shoving microphones in his face.
He had her argument down pat because she’d said the same thing every time he’d broached the subject. Gran was content here in this little burg, a feeling he’d never understood.
Then an image of Beth and the kids at the soccer game flashed into his brain and for a moment—a moment as quick as that flash—he considered it.
No. No way. He’d worked too hard to get out. To move beyond. To move up. He wasn’t coming back here for his grandmother, let alone a widow with five kids.
Five kids who needed a dad.
A widow who needed a man in her life.
Jesus H. Christ. He wasn’t that man and he could put the damn thought out of his head. He had a film to start. Another one in the can. Promo tours. Awards ceremonies. Endorsements to consider. Things were finally happening; now was not the time to chuck it all for soccer games and finger painting.
“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young man. You might think you know everything because you’re a big movie star, but I can still take my switch to your behind if you get too big for your britches.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Gran.” Bryan set her wine in front of her. “I am too big for those britches.”
“Bryan Matthew Manley, there’s no reason to be crude.”
Sean choked on his wine and Liam looked like he was going to as well.
Bryan just wanted to be sick. “I . . . I didn’t mean . . .” He had not meant anything of the sort; she was his grandmother, for God’s sake!—
And to add insult to injury, Sean took a picture of him with his cell.
“What the hell was that for?” Bryan was still trying to process Gran going with sexual innuendo.
“Insurance. Against poverty.” Sean sat down. “I’m sure some magazine would pay big bucks for that look on your pretty-boy face.”
“Sean Patrick Manley, you stop teasing your brother,” said Gran as if she hadn’t just been talking about . . . that. “Hand me that phone.”
“Aw, Gran—”
“The phone.” She wiggled her fingers.
Bryan got no small measure of satisfaction when Gran deleted the photo. He even had to hide the chuckle when she deleted the rest of Sean’s photos—accidentally of course, but still . . . it served him right.
What didn’t serve him right were the c
omplications going on with his current project that some of those pictures related to—a project that had a lot of Bryan’s money tied up.
“What kind of complications?”
Sean winced. “Merriweather threw a slight wrench into the plans. She’s giving her granddaughter the chance to inherit the estate.”
“Son of a bitch.” Bry tossed his napkin onto the table. The estate was supposed to be Sean’s flagship property and the first of the Manley Brothers’ projects. They lost this and there wouldn’t be a second project.
“Language, Bryan.” Gran took a bite of chicken, those two words admonition enough. She’d always been able to get their attention with just a word or a look. They’d all been too worried over losing her to health problems to want to upset her.
“Sorry.” Bry put his napkin back on his lap. “What are you going to do, Sean?”
His brother swiped a hand across his mouth. “As I see it, I’ve got three options. One, make sure Livvy fails and the sale can proceed as planned. Two, I was going to ask you guys if you wanted to cover the difference. For commensurate ROI, of course.”
“So you’d be the minor partner, then?” Liam asked.
Sean nodded. “Obviously not what I wanted when I planned this, but we can work out the terms and I’ll gradually buy you out. If you can float the money, that’s my second option. The third would be to bring in outside investors, but that’ll dilute everyone’s take.”
“That option’s out.” Liam rubbed his chin. “This is supposed to be a Manley Brothers project. We bring someone else in, we lose that edge, both in calling the shots and the publicity.”
“But you have Bryan,” said Gran. “He’s the best publicity you could ask for.”
Bryan shook his head. Three weeks ago, he might have said yes. Now? He was not going to be responsible—well, any more than he already was—for bringing the spotlight on Beth and her kids. And that’s just what would happen if he got publicly involved in a local business. “No go, Gran. I’m the silent partner. I don’t have the background these two do for this business. We start plastering my face all over this and it’ll become a circus. The media’s great until it isn’t. Sean’s got what I can afford.” Not to mention, he wasn’t about to involve Beth and the kids any more than they already were.