What a Woman Needs

by Judi Fennell

  Yeah, the reporter was going deep with the innuendo. Beth wanted to be sick.

  Bryan just got madder. “My sister wouldn’t appreciate the innuendo.”

  He was close to losing his professional cool and that would not be good for his image—or her reputation because the minute he started defending her, people would think he had a right to, which meant there would have to be something between them and that’d open another whole can of worms.

  “Mac runs a professional service and comments like yours have no place in it. Press conference is over, folks.” He turned around and entered her house without a backward glance—but with a definitive slam to the door. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Well, technically, it is. If I weren’t here, you wouldn’t have to deal with them.”

  “You’re only here for a few more days. I’m sure I can put up with it ’til then.” It was a small price to pay to have him around because at least there was an end in sight.

  Wait. Was that supposed to be a good thing?

  “I’m glad you can.”

  “Um, okay?”

  Bryan looked behind him out the front door, then steered her into the study, away from the prying eyes of the press still on her porch.

  He shut the door. Then he put his hand behind her neck and pulled her into another knee-melting kiss.

  Five minutes later—or maybe thirty—he finally let her go. And, man, did she have a hard time letting him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as his lips left hers. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Kiss me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Because? I mean, you did it last night, too, and I wasn’t complaining, if you remember.”

  “I do. And that’s the problem.”

  “It’s a problem that I don’t ask you to stop kissing me?”

  “Yes. Because if you did, I would stop. And then I wouldn’t think about what else I want to do with you.”

  “What else?”

  He arched an eyebrow at her. “Come on, Beth. You’ve had five kids. Presumably they weren’t immaculate conceptions.”

  She blushed. “Of course not.”

  “Then you know what I’m talking about.”

  “Well, yes, but . . . But you’re leaving.”

  “Exactly. And it’s wreaking havoc with my control. I can’t have you; you’re not that kind of woman, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting you. And when I talk about leaving, about not seeing you again, walking out of your life so someone else can walk into it, well, it’s not what I want.”

  “What do you want, Bryan?” God, she could hope for so much . . .

  “That’s just it, Beth. I want you. But I don’t want this.”

  “This?” Her kids? Her life? Her world? God, that hurt. He gave her everything in one sentence and ripped it away in the next.

  “I have a career that’s starting to take off. I can’t walk away from it now. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am.”

  “I’m not asking you to walk away from it.”

  “I know. But I’m thinking about it.”

  God, so was she. But if she’d ever thought there could be some compromise to their differing lifestyles, that media event on her front porch had put an end to it. Her kids didn’t deserve that upheaval. And she didn’t deserve the heartache. “Then perhaps you should leave now, Bryan. Make the break easier.”

  For a moment, he looked pained. But he was a good actor, able to call up emotions at will, and she saw him do it. Saw him suck it up, tuck it away, and pull out his professional side.

  He raked the hand that wasn’t still behind her neck through his hair. “Yes, perhaps that’d be for the best. You’re right; your family doesn’t need this intrusion. You all have lived through enough. My career and all that goes with it are my choice, and it’s not fair to thrust it on you. I’m sorry, Beth. For so many things.”

  For what could have been . . .

  “I’ll just go say good-bye to the kids and—”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  “What?”

  She took a deep breath, knowing she was doing the right thing, but also knowing they would be hurt that he didn’t say good-bye. But better a clean break than one drawn out with tears and promises of what could never be. “They don’t need the separation messiness. Just go. I’ll tell them you got called to the set and that you had to leave. If you stay and make a production out of leaving, they’ll put more importance on it than there should be. After a week or so, they’ll move on.”

  • • •

  BRYAN didn’t think his insides could have been ripped apart any more after she’d asked him to leave, but telling him the kids would move on . . . That did it.

  As an actor, he knew the power of words, but as a man, he’d never been faced with the true feelings they evoked.

  He choked back that emotion, blinked a few times because, yeah, it hurt, then pulled stoic out of his repertoire. “You’re right, of course.” He flexed his fingers behind her neck, surprised to find he was still touching her there. He’d been kissing her not two minutes ago, his fingers buried in those silky curls he wanted spread out on a pillow beneath them, and now he had to let her go.

  He exhaled and dropped his hand. “I wish you all the best, Beth.”

  “You, too, Bryan.” Her voice was husky and if she hadn’t been the one to ask him to leave, he’d swear she was choked up about it.

  “Well . . .” He cleared the huskiness out of his own throat. “I guess I’ll get my hat and go. Mac can come by for any supplies I left.”

  “Yes. That’s fine.”

  “Good-bye.”

  “Good-bye, Bryan. Best of luck with your movie.”

  The damn romantic comedy that he didn’t feel one ounce of happiness about making right now because he would be portraying on screen what he might possibly just have given up in real life.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  THE kids were disappointed. Well, Kelsey was devastated, certain that her newfound popularity would take a Twitter nosedive. Jason, too, seemed subdued, morphing back into the sulky teenage boy mien he’d lost in the last two weeks.

  The twins kept saying, “When Bryan comes back,” and Maggie had set up a special place on her desk to make a list of everything that happened in her days so she could remember to tell Bryan when he returned to clean out her dollhouse from Mrs. Beecham’s fur.

  Beth didn’t have the heart to tell her that wasn’t going to happen. They would all figure it out eventually, hopefully when the excitement of him being here had faded. She didn’t want to destroy their dreams.

  But, God, her dreams. Every single one was of Bryan. She woke up the next day with an ache between her thighs that hadn’t been there even when he had been.

  She should have slept with him. Should have made him take her up on that tree fort offer. Should have made the memories that would carry her through the next few weeks—months maybe—until she got over him. Damn it; she hated that Kara had been right.

  The phone rang, thankfully giving her the distraction she needed—until she heard who it was.

  “Hello, Mrs. Hamilton. This is Mac Manley. I understand you terminated my brother’s position and I wanted to find out what the problem was. I’d like to fix it if I can.”

  The only problem was that he was too sexy for her own good. “There wasn’t any problem. It’s just that he’s done everything that needed to be done, and well, he has that movie coming up—”

  “Which he wasn’t slated to start for another week and a half. Did he do something? Ruin something?”

  Only her for another man.

  Snap out of it!

  Beth shook her head to clear it because Mac couldn’t see her do it. “No. Bryan was a great worker. He went above and beyond, but, well, he was finished. I don’t have anything more to keep him busy, and it seemed foolish to waste his time by making up things for him to do. I figured he’d be better o
ff on his movie set.”

  Mac sighed on the other end of the phone. “I could send someone else out. Free of charge of course. I’ll refund the balance of what was paid.”

  “That’s not necessary, really. Bryan did the work in good faith. I was the one who let him go. Keep the money. And, no, I don’t want anyone else.”

  She had a feeling she never would, either.

  Okay, Beth, really. Snap out of it! You are not going to waste the rest of your life pining for this guy. He’s moved on; you need to as well.

  “I certainly am not going to keep the money if Manley Maids didn’t earn it,” said Mac. “I will be returning it.”

  “Why don’t you donate it, then? To the library or the school or something. Someone else who can use your services but can’t afford to pay for them. Really, it’s not necessary. Bryan did a great job; it’s just that it’s over now.”

  Something she’d be reminding herself for many nights to come.

  • • •

  WHAT did you do?”

  “Mac—”

  “So help me, Bryan, what did you do?”

  “Mac—”

  “You leave me some bullshit message and I have to call my own client to find out what happened. And she wouldn’t tell me anything. Did you pull some of your Rico Suave crap and make her fall in love with you, then brush her off like yesterday’s starlet?”

  “Mac—”

  “Four weeks, Bry! Four weeks! That’s all I asked. That was our bet, remember? And you couldn’t even do that? Seriously, what is the matter with you? Do you have to run after everything in a skirt? I thought a woman with five kids would be enough of a deterrent, but, noooo. Not my brother, the stud. Has to put a notch in every bed post, I guess. I can’t believe—”

  “Hold the hell on, Mary-Alice Catherine Manley!” Bryan’s blood pressure rose along with his voice and he dropped the boxers he’d been trying to shove into the duffel bag. His car was going to be here in less than five minutes. He did not have time for this. “I am not some Neanderthal who has to make a conquest wherever he goes and you know it. Don’t say that shit to me! I was nothing but circumspect around Beth and her kids.”

  Well, except when he was kissing her. Then he’d been horny as hell. But so had Beth, so he doubted she’d ratted him out to his sister for that.

  He picked up the boxers and shoved them into the duffel, then zipped it—and of course the damn teeth caught on them. Wedging the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he tried to yank the cloth free. “Beth had issues with the media coverage that comes with the Bryan Manley package and I can’t blame her. After what she and her kids have been through . . . Why the hell did you send me there?” Something Mac had said came back to him. “Fuck. You sent me to her because she had five kids? Because you know that’s the last thing I want in my life and you’re so worried about me hitting on your clients that you had to send me to the one you thought I wouldn’t want?”

  He was insulted. He’d never given Mac any reason to mistrust his professionalism or his word. And he’d given her his word he’d be professional while working for her—granted, he’d meant in how he cleaned the homes because he had, after all, tried to get out of this damn bet, but seriously? She thought he’d hit on her clients?

  “Oh don’t turn this around on me, Bryan Matthew. I did it for you. I mean, no one’s going to think you’d be interested in a widow with kids, least of all her. It was the safest assignment I could come up with. Can you imagine if another client had had her sights set on you? You’d be changing sheets and light bulbs and dresser drawers in her bedroom and wondering how you were going to get out of there at the end of the day. I did you a favor.”

  He wasn’t going to tell her exactly how much of a favor she had done him. Well, would have done for him if this thing with Beth could go somewhere. But it couldn’t. And Beth, smart lady, had known that enough to ask him to leave.

  He looked around for the folder with his script in it. He was going to have to bone up on his lines because he hadn’t been as diligent as he normally was about memorizing them, since he’d been so busy with Beth and the kids. “I didn’t do anything, Mac, but I’ll pay for the rest of the month.”

  “She won’t let me return the money. She told me to donate it.”

  Ah. There was the file on top of the island in his kitchen among half a dozen bills he better pay before he left. Shit, he didn’t have time. He stuck those inside the file. “Pick out a victim’s group. I’ll double whatever you donate.”

  “You’re a prince, Bry.”

  “Yeah, yeah, that’s what they tell me.” He tucked the file into the front flap of his laptop bag.

  “I was being sarcastic. Far be it from me to build your ego any more than it already is.”

  It was an old mantra. Mac would never let him get a big head out of love.

  “So we’re good?” He looked around his house for anything he might have forgotten. Sadly, the place was woefully bereft of things. Just a high-def TV, a sound system to blow the roof off, and some paintings a decorator he’d hired had said to buy. He didn’t even like impressionistic art, yet there it was on his walls. This place was about as homey as Maggie’s dollhouse. Actually, the dollhouse was homier, given that Mrs. Beecham’s fur gave it a lived-in feeling, whereas his place felt more like a way station. “You’re going to get off my case now about doing something to piss her off?”

  “You promise you didn’t?”

  “I promise.” Pissing Beth off had never been his motive. Turning her on, getting her hot and bothered, yeah. All the things Mac had specifically decided Beth wouldn’t be interested in.

  Mac hadn’t been in that gazebo. And on the deck last night.

  He swung the duffel bag straps over his shoulder as the limo pulled up out front. Nice perk, that. “I gotta go, Mac. Send someone else over to Beth. She deserves a break.”

  “Like I said, Bry, you’re a prince.”

  “And now I get to go play one in the movies. I’m heading to the coast.”

  “You still owe me, bro.”

  “What?” He juggled the phone and his keys as he locked up.

  “The bet. It was for four weeks and you’re cutting out early.”

  “It’s not enough that I’m paying for it? Double?” He dumped his keys in the duffel. Wouldn’t be needing them for a while.

  “You always renege on a bet?”

  “I never do.” He slung the straps over his shoulder, juggling the phone and his temper. “Fine. Next time I get a break between films, I’ll do the remaining eight days.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  He nodded to the driver who opened the door, then slid into the back. “You do that.”

  “I will.”

  “Good.”

  “Fine.”

  “Bye, sis.”

  “Bye, big bro.”

  She hung up before him of course. Mac liked having the last word and she loved to tease him about being her big bro. He was the youngest of the three brothers and it never failed to bug the shit out of him when his brothers called him the baby. Well he’d shown them. The biggest name on the marquis for this movie was going to be his. He was finally on his way to the big time.

  Too bad it felt more like being on his way merely to a job.

  • • •

  YOU let him get away?” Kara literally almost dropped the bottle of wine, which was a major sin in Kara-Land.

  Beth took it from her and set it on the slate patio table. “I didn’t let him do anything. He was finished, so he left.”

  “I’m not buying it.” Jess threw her hands up. “No one, and I mean no one, lets Bryan Manley leave before his time is up. You had him in your home, in the palm of your hand if you wanted, and he was under contract to stay there, and you let him leave? Honestly, Beth, are you trying to sabotage your love life?”

  Beth looked around for the bottle opener. Something to distract them from this conversation. Wine ought to do it. �
��There is no love life, guys. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Just because you put him in my home doesn’t mean sparks are going to fly.”

  “Uh-huh.” They both sat back and crossed their arms.

  “You forget, we saw you at the happy hour. We saw him at the happy hour. The man couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

  She’d felt them. At least, she’d hoped that’d been what it was, but realistically, she’d told herself it was just wishful thinking.

  The whole thing with Bryan had been wishful thinking.

  “Can we change the topic? I’m kind of sick of talking about him.” That was because the reporters hadn’t left. Funny that she and Bryan had agreed he’d leave to end the invasion, but that’d only started another round of interest. They’d been all over his duties in her home and why she had fired him.

  So, of course, she’d had to defuse that rumor, and then there’d been the questions of how her kids were dealing with their newfound fame, given what’d happened two years ago, and it hadn’t been pretty as she’d tried to shield the kids from the questions and comments while trying to get these people off her property and not show them how painful it was, because in her experience, the more emotional an issue, the more they buzzed around it like bees. If she made it out to be no big deal, they’d back off.

  So Beth had had to suck it up and pretend that all the commotion on her yard wasn’t turning her into a mass of nerves and smile sweetly and answer their questions with as noncommittal an answer as she possibly could. Hence, tonight’s gathering at Kara’s, with the kids in the pool and the game room, and her with a glass of wine in front of her, now that she’d pried out the cork and poured some for each of them.

  “Okay, so what else do you want to talk about?” Kara picked up her glass and swirled it around like a sommelier. “The new clothesline in your backyard? Oh, wait. Bryan did that. How about your new sink in the kids’ bathroom. Oh, wait. Bryan again. And what about the hole in the fence that got sealed—oops, Bryan again.” She punctuated each sentence with a swirl of her wine. “Your trip to Martinson’s Amusements? Oh, Bryan was there, wasn’t he? And what about the doctor you had dinner with? You know, the one who was tossed out of the restaurant by none other than one Bryan-Manley-to-the-rescue. Gee, Beth, what else is there to talk about?”