by Lori Foster
Her brows pinched down. “Stressing me? What do you mean?”
So she’d make him spell it out? Well, he supposed he deserved that, since he couldn’t give her what she wanted most of all. “I love you. I don’t want you to feel like you’re compromising yourself.”
“How so?”
Damn it. He released her and took a step back. “Does it bother you to live with me when we’re not married?”
Her brows smoothed out, but her expression stayed neutral. “I love you, Wyatt. If the only way I can have you is on your terms, then for now, that’s how it’ll be.”
That for now had him gritting his teeth, but what he said was, “My terms?”
Her bare shoulders lifted. “You won’t marry me, so I’ll settle for cohabitating.” She smoothed a hand over his chest. Nervousness emanated from her in waves. “The thing is … someday it won’t be enough.”
He couldn’t think about that day.
“Someday I’m going to want the storybook ending.”
His guts knotted. He put his hands on his hips and looked away with defeat. His desolation emerged as one whispered word: “Fuck.”
A flash of pain filled her eyes before the resolution returned. She dropped her hand and took a step back.
There was so much distance between them, it killed Wyatt. “Mercy.”
“I want my happily ever after, Wyatt, complete with babies, our babies, that I can hold and love.”
He had no idea what to say. “I’m sorry.”
She patted his chest. “Don’t worry about it, Wyatt. For right now, here with you like this, I’m fine.”
He wanted her better than fine. He wanted her one hundred percent satisfied and happy. The problem was, he had no idea how to manage it.
His doorbell rang, taking them both by surprise. Glad for the reprieve, Wyatt started around her.
She rushed after him, asking, “Were you expecting anyone?”
“No.”
He heard her grumbling before she said, “If that’s Braxton, I’m going to smack him.”
He gave her a quick look, glad to see her looking like herself again. “Why would it be your brother? I thought we were meeting him at the restaurant.”
“That was the plan, but you might as well know right now that Braxton has a mile-wide overprotective streak. I told him I was moving in with you, and so he’d want to see where you live.”
Wyatt stopped before he reached the door. It’d be best if he knew what to expect. “What did your brother think of you moving in here?”
A heavy fist knocked impatiently.
Mercy rolled her eyes and stepped around him. “He wanted me to come live with him instead.”
Before Wyatt could react to that, she opened the door, and sure enough, there stood her brother and a woman.
Even though he’d never met Braxton Jardine, Wyatt knew him on sight. He had the same jet-black hair and bright hazel eyes as Mercy.
Mercy had told him what a formidable presence Braxton had, but she hadn’t stated that strongly enough. The man stood damn near six and a half feet tall, towering over them all. Unlike his sister, he had darker skin, and though Wyatt knew him for a rich businessman, he had a body used to physical labor.
His black slacks and white T-shirt reeked of money, but they weren’t overly dressy. The woman with him wore a blouse, pencil skirt, and low-heeled pumps. She looked like the quintessential secretary.
Only half under her breath, Mercy remonstrated her brother. “Braxton! What are you doing here?”
Beside Braxton, the woman nodded. “He knew good and well that we were to meet at the restaurant, Mercy. I told him not to do this, but you know how he is. He wouldn’t listen to me.”
Braxton showed his teeth in a predator’s smile. “I always listen to you, Cameo. Sometimes I just don’t obey.”
The tension in the air crackled, prompting Wyatt to take control.
“It’s not a problem.” He clasped Mercy’s arm and edged her aside so she no longer blocked the doorway. “Come on in. We have some time before we have to head to dinner.”
The woman entered.
Braxton didn’t.
Instead, her brother lounged on the door frame, filling the entrance and eyeing Wyatt with some lethal intensity, almost as if he planned to dissect him and wasn’t sure where he wanted to start.
His pose was casual enough, but it didn’t fool Wyatt. The man looked capable of attacking at any moment.
Provoked, Wyatt narrowed his eyes. Braxton might be big, but his size didn’t intimidate him. He had confidence in his own abilities, and if he needed to, he’d more than hold his own.
But this was Mercy’s brother, so Wyatt was determined to keep things civil—if he could.
“Introductions first, huh?” Lacking a smile, Wyatt held out his hand. “Wyatt Reyes. And I take it you’re Mercy’s brother, Braxton.”
Expecting a formidable contest on who had the strongest grip, Wyatt was surprised when Braxton merely shook his hand and stepped inside.
“Nice to finally meet you, Wyatt. Call me Brax.” As an aside, he said, “Only the women call me Braxton, and only when they’re pissed about something.”
Both women glared at him.
Brax slipped his arm around his date’s waist, which, judging by her expression, took her off guard. “Cameo, meet the long-elusive Wyatt Reyes.” His smile mocked them all. “Wyatt, Cameo Smithson.”
“His assistant,” Cameo said.
“Actually, she’s more than that.” Braxton made no pretense of looking around his home, checking out everything. “Just ask Mercedes.”
Flustered, Mercy stammered, “Yes. Of course. Cameo is like family.”
“Not precisely like family, but close all the same.” Brax smiled that wicked smile again, but this time Wyatt knew it wasn’t directed at him.
Wyatt nodded at Cameo. “Take a seat.” When it came to entertaining, he lacked skills, but he could manage the basics.
Cameo sat.
Braxton did not.
“Would either of you like a drink?”
“No thanks.” Brax headed for the kitchen. “Mind if I look around?” He didn’t wait for an answer.
“Braxton,” Mercedes wailed, running after him.
Wyatt couldn’t help it. He grinned.
Cameo let out a long sigh. “They squabble like this incessantly. Of course, it’s usually Brax’s fault. He does like to tease her.”
Leaving Mercy to trail her brother, Wyatt sat in a chair opposite Cameo. Talking with her seemed a safe way to find out what he was in store for with Braxton. “It’s nice that they’re so close.”
She tipped her head. “Yes, isn’t it?”
A little subtle prodding wouldn’t hurt. “Mercy told me that Brax raised her?”
“After their parents died, yes.”
“That had to be rough.” He shifted, uncomfortable with meddling. Unfortunately, he’d set the tone with his own rigid privacy, and couldn’t very well grill Mercy about her own past. “It was just the two of them?”
“They have uncles from their father’s side, but the men in the family are always off to God knows where, doing God knows what. From what I understand, they’re somewhat eccentric, adrenaline junkies with Brax’s good looks. A troubling combination, if you know what I mean.”
“I suppose so.” He thought of Mercy as a little girl, feeling lost and alone. That image struck an uncomfortable chord, and he mentally switched tracks.
Seeing Braxton Jardine now, it was hard to imagine how he could have ever been a young vulnerable boy. But when his parents died, he would have been at an age where he wanted to sow wild oats and test his independence.
Instead he’d taken on raising a child.
Wyatt knew only too well that many parents balked under that kind of responsibility. With more sincerity than Cameo could know, he said, “Mercy was lucky to have him looking after her.”
She sat back and crossed her legs. “He was only ei
ghteen at the time, but as you can tell by how Mercy turned out, he did a fabulous job.”
“I agree.”
“He dotes on her still, sometimes to the point where he almost smothers her.” Her smile hinted that she found Brax’s smothering tendencies an endearing trait. “It’s because he loves her so much, you understand.”
Wyatt nodded. “Mercy is an easy woman to love.”
She sat forward with sudden purpose. “Brax is a gifted, highly intelligent, and giving man, and Mercy is his top priority. He always has her best interest at heart, so I hope you won’t take offense if he … meddles a little.”
Wyatt could hear Mercy and Brax talking in his kitchen, and raised a brow. If meddling meant taking a self-initiated tour of his house, then no, he didn’t mind too much. The intrusion was only a small inconvenience, and he could easily overlook it to keep Mercy happy.
But if Brax thought to invade his personal privacy, then yeah, he’d have something to say about it.
The discussion in the kitchen dwindled to a barely audible whisper. Whatever they discussed, they didn’t want anyone else hearing.
Wyatt turned back to Cameo. “Define meddling for me.”
She frowned in thought. “He means well.”
The way she kept cautioning him, Wyatt was starting to expect the worst. “So you’ve said.”
Her smile flickered. “You’ll find out soon enough that Brax is not the most tactful man around. He’s built an empire by making sure he gets his way in all things.” She glanced toward the kitchen, and then back again. “All I can tell you is that it’s best not to cross him.”
Alarm bells went off in his brain. “Is that a warning?”
She flapped a hand. “Nothing so dire. Just know that he always finds out what he wants to know anyway. Being up-front and honest with him is much easier than digging in and fighting what will ultimately be a losing battle.”
Wyatt didn’t like the sound of that at all.
Cameo studied him. “If you want to build a life with Mercy—”
“I do.”
“Then you’ll want to keep in mind how close they are. Mercy knows Brax isn’t perfect, but she loves him every bit as much as he loves her.”
Meaning he was fucked no matter what he did? Was he supposed to roll over for Brax, regardless of whether he got out of line?
Wyatt stood, ready to find Brax and lay down a few ground rules of his own. That proved unnecessary when Brax came striding back into the front room. Mercy was right on his heels, grumbling low, but Brax ignored her as he addressed the room at large.
“I’m starved. We ready to go?”
Wyatt crossed his arms. “That depends. Are you done poking around?”
“Not really, no.” Brax threw an arm around Mercy, pinning her to his side. Next to Brax, she looked especially small and delicate. Her expression showed hostility, annoyance—and resignation.
Cameo stood with a sigh.
Nettled, Wyatt asked, “Did you want to see my bank statements, too? My utility bills? Maybe talk to my barber?”
Brax shook his head. “Not necessary. I already looked into your company. You’re a good businessman showing sound financial planning.”
Flummoxed, Wyatt stared at him. “What are you talking about? What did you do?”
“Nothing illegal, so uncurl those fists.”
Wyatt hadn’t realized his fists had clenched until Brax pointed it out. He looked at Mercy and saw the worry in her golden eyes, her bottom lip caught in her teeth.
Deliberately, he relaxed his stance and drew a breath. “How exactly did you get access to my private business?”
Brax scrutinized him as if fascinated with his reaction. “I checked you out the same way any potential employer would—all upright and legitimate. And before you go all hostile again, understand that I liked what I saw. You can judge a lot about a man by how he does business.”
Wyatt had always believed the same, but he’d be damned if he’d agree with Brax. Tamping down the hostility as much as he could, he growled, “We won’t be doing business together so I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of my personal affairs.”
Squeezing his sister a little closer, Brax said, “That’s not going to happen.”
Cameo sighed again.
Distracted, Brax frowned toward her. “What’s the matter with you?”
“You’re being impossible, Braxton, that’s what.” She came around the coffee table to face off with him. “For God’s sake, turn your sister loose. You’re forcing her to choose sides, but then not even giving her a choice.”
“I wasn’t—”
“And why pick a fight anyway? What in the world do you think that’ll accomplish?”
He released Mercy, and when she just stood there, he said, “Well, go on to him before Cameo flays me.”
Instead Mercy poked him in the chest. “Stop it right now, Braxton. I mean it.”
Brax glanced at Wyatt with an indulgent smile. “See? They always call me Braxton when they’re pissed off.”
Wyatt almost grinned. True, he was annoyed, but seeing the large and imposing Braxton Jardine surrounded by feminine fury struck his funny bone.
Braxton didn’t seem particularly put off by it. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and affected a bored expression.
Mercy’s second poke was harder, prompting Brax to grab her finger. He appealed to Wyatt. “Come on, man, take her away before she bores holes in me.”
The man was certifiable, that’s all there was to it. Wyatt didn’t move. He wasn’t about to ask Mercy to come to his side; she could damn well make her own decision.
“Thanks for nothing,” Brax told him. And then to Mercy: “Men have their pride, sweetheart. You know that. Don’t you think you should switch sides here?”
Mercy jerked her finger free of his loose hold and planted her fists on her hips. “I don’t have to declare a side because Wyatt knows how I feel about him.”
Unconvinced, Brax asked, “Is that right?”
Mercy glanced back at Wyatt, did a double take at his undoubtedly sour expression, and seemed to ignite. “You should go, Brax.” She shoved at him. “I don’t think Wyatt or I, either one, is in the mood for dinner now.”
Brax sent him a Do something look.
Well, fuck. Her damned brother was too important to her for things to start off this way. Neither of them could know why he was so private. They couldn’t have a clue what hid in his past.
Not that any of that mattered right now. Wyatt didn’t want to come between them, no matter what. He loved Mercy, and as Cameo had claimed, Brax meant well.
He couldn’t marry her, but he could give her this, and if certain sacrifices had to be made, so what? Brax could dig into his company business all he wanted.
He’d never find anything off the mark there.
Drawing another deep breath to help alleviate his irritation, Wyatt stepped forward. “Actually, I had an early lunch, so I’m starving.”
Mercy’s eyes widened. She stopped trying to shove Brax out the door.
Cameo smiled in pleasure.
But Brax, damn him, wasn’t in the least fooled. His nod was serious and accepting. “Putting Mercy’s feelings first—not a bad start.”
And with that, he turned and led the way out the door.
MERCY stared at her plate and knew she’d made an error in judgment. The grilled chicken had been delicious and she’d eaten every bite, along with her salad and potato. She’d thought she had room for dessert, but now that the rich and creamy cheesecake had been placed before her, her throat burned and her stomach started to pitch.
Why did they call it morning sickness if it came all the damn time?
Always attuned to her, Wyatt touched her hand. “Everything okay?”
“Oh, yes, I’m fine.”
Brax, damn him, watched her like a hawk—and she could almost swear he had anticipation in his gaze.
Did he want her to be sick in front of Wyatt?
So far, after one inauspicious morning when the baby had thwarted Wyatt’s plans for early lovemaking, she’d managed to get up before him. By the time he awoke, she’d already sipped tea and nibbled crackers and settled her belly the best she could.
The nausea had hit a couple of times in the evenings, but she’d found a variety of excuses to stay out of range of Wyatt when it happened.
Wyatt squeezed her fingers. “You’re not eating your dessert?”
No, she wasn’t. She couldn’t. Laying her napkin over her plate in the hope that not seeing it would somehow help, she smiled at Wyatt. “I guess my eyes were bigger than my stomach. I’m not really hungry after all.”
Like a doting husband, he put the back of his hand to her forehead.
Mercy felt very conspicuous. “Wyatt, really, I’m fine.”
“You eat like a bird lately.” His hand slid around her nape. “And you always look tired.”
“Imagine that,” Brax said.
Oh God. Her stomach roiled—and she shoved back her chair. “I’m going to run to the restroom.” Run being the operative word. She waved Wyatt back to his seat when he started to rise. “I’ll be right back.”
She fled the room with as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances. Luckily there was no one else in the john when she got there.
But as soon as she started throwing up, Brax sauntered in.
Appalled, Mercy glanced back at him, groaned, and hung her head over the toilet again. Finally the sickness abated and she stood, went to the sink, and washed her hands.
Brax handed her a dampened towel. “You look like hell, hon. I take it the baby is kicking up a fuss?”
“I’m so damned sick.” She groaned, not all that surprised that Brax was as comfortable in the women’s restroom as he was in the boardroom. “Why did it have to happen now?”
He smoothed back her hair. “You’re worried about things, and I bet you’re feeling guilty.”
Her startled look prompted him to say, “Keeping secrets isn’t your way. You’re more honest and up front than that.”
Usually, but not with this. Not with her happiness on the line.
She bent to swish out her mouth with water, spat in the sink, and rinsed again. “Make yourself useful and let me know if Wyatt comes looking for me.”