This Thing Called Love (A Mirror Lake Novel) Page 4

  And worst, the photos. Trish was obsessed with them. She took them, copied them, printed them, scrapbooked them, and hung them everywhere. Olivia could not glance in any direction without being inundated by happy, wonderful, heartbreaking moments.

  Brad walked over to a bookshelf in the family room and picked up a framed picture. It was taken at the hospital, just after Annabelle was born. It was the typical pose of Trish in the hospital bed, Kevin’s arm around her, the baby pink and new with a cap on her head and bundled in a white flannel hospital blanket. The expressions on the new parents’ faces were jubilant, relieved, exhausted. They were both grinning from ear to ear.

  “Who called you?” Brad asked.

  Olivia must’ve looked puzzled, because he added, “You know. The night she was born. I just wondered which of us knew first.”

  So he still had his competitive streak. “Trish called me from home at dinnertime, before she went in. She was painting the hallway gray when her water broke.”

  “She wanted to finish before they went to the hospital,” Brad said. “Kevin was so upset. He couldn’t understand why she was doing that. ‘It didn’t need painting’ he said, ‘and what was wrong with beige, anyway?’ Being a lawyer, he always made a practical argument.”

  Olivia took a seat on the brown sofa, chuckling a little. “She wanted to throw laundry in, too. He’d almost had to force her into the car. That was just like her. She wanted everything to be neat and tidy when she came back with the baby. Poor Kevin had to finish painting the hallway on, like, an hour of sleep.”

  Brad replaced the frame. “I went to the hospital right after work. Annabelle wasn’t born until midnight.”

  “I was in Chicago on business. I caught the first flight back but didn’t get in till the next morning. I missed everything.” She went quiet. “I let my sister down.” When you were part of two sisters raised without a mother, that was a big deal. She would always feel guilty she’d missed the most important experience of her sister’s life.

  Brad looked surprised. “Don’t say that. You did your best.”

  She shrugged, not believing him. “It was an extra trip. I could’ve said no.”

  “Trish wasn’t due for two weeks. You couldn’t have known.” A sudden grin lit his face. “Besides, Trish FaceTimed you before they even let me in to see the baby. So looks like you win after all. You saw Annabelle first.”

  Except no one really won. Because here they were, in an empty house surrounded by memories.

  Olivia was getting choked up so she walked back to the kitchen. For a minute the house was silent except for the soft static of the baby monitor. Outside, birds created a morning riot and sunlight glittered on the shimmering dew. The tiny backyard surrounded by a rim of old trees created a brilliant explosion of green outside the door and a warm, fresh breeze blew in through the open window. A different world from New York.

  The geraniums planted in antique gold-rimmed barrels on the porch looked wilted, and Olivia made a mental note to water them. God knew she’d killed any living plant she’d ever laid hands on, but caring for the flowers Trish had so lovingly planted seemed elemental and urgent. Like keeping them alive kept part of her sister alive.

  “How’d she do last night?” Brad leaned casually against the kitchen counter, tipping his head in the direction of the baby’s room. His body was big and broad and lean, too big for the tiny kitchen, too big in her thoughts. She should have never let him in the house.

  “Compared to what happened in Gertie’s, much better,” Olivia said, knowing that a good night for a one-month-old was a very relative term. “Chalk it up to exhaustion after all that crying.”

  His gaze strayed lazily over her again. “And how’d you do?”

  “I . . . survived.” She wondered what he thought of her messy hair, lack of makeup, her old T-shirt and cutoff sweats. While he wore billionaire businessman chic and looked tastier than that cinnamon roll she’d just scarfed down.

  But she was not trying to impress him and she might as well be honest. “Look, about yesterday. I’m here to make a plan, to do what my sister asked of me. But I honestly don’t know a thing about babies.”

  Brad’s gaze wandered over the mile-high stack of baby care books piled on the kitchen table. Why was it so important that he see how hard she was trying? Even if she was the last person in the world Trish should have picked to be Annabelle’s mom?

  “Are you saying you might not keep her?” He sounded hopeful.

  “No, I-I just want to learn all I can and do what’s best for Annabelle.” Whatever that is. “It’s a little overwhelming.”

  She’d expected an argument, but instead Brad flashed a smile. Tiny lines she’d never noticed before crinkled at the corners of his eyes. They lent him an air of maturity that was unbelievably sexy. As if anything about him wasn’t. He reached over and smoothed the unruly hair down on the top of her head.

  Olivia cleared her throat and backed up a step. “That bad, huh?”

  Brad shook his head. “I was just thinking you look like you’re eighteen again. No makeup, your hair wild like that.” She stared at him, watched emotion darken his eyes, and she could not look away. If she were less experienced, she’d think it was the pull of old memories, but Olivia was old enough to know pure, raw desire when she saw it.

  Brad bent his head, his gaze locking on her lips. Her breath caught and for a moment she thought he was about to kiss her. She fought the compulsion to drag her fingers through his thick hair, press herself against his big strong body, use him as a comfort from all the confusion that had tipped her world. But that would be unbelievably wrong.

  He raised his arm, as if to cup her cheek. Instinctively, she tilted up her head, ready to accept his kiss, but suddenly Brad thrust both his hands into his pants pockets. An awkward silence hung between them.

  Olivia stepped far back, chiding herself. What was wrong with her? Drooling after a long-lost memory when a tiny baby who needed everything and had lost her whole world slept innocently one room away?

  Brad pulled out a note from his pants pocket and cleared his throat. “I almost forgot. My grandma Effie gave me this to give you.”

  He handed over a small square of paper that was folded in fours. Glad for the distraction, Olivia opened it carefully and read the caption out loud. “Baby Care Classes—Mirror Lake Community Center. Starting tonight.”

  “Effie thought you might be interested. She used to teach them for years until she retired from nursing.”

  Hmmm. Baby care class. This could be just what she needed to give herself the skills she lacked.

  She skimmed down the flyer. “They’re for . . . couples. It says to take a spouse, significant other, parent, or friend.” Great. Alex and Meg had a business meeting tonight. Her father would rather suffer through a bout of shingles than be trapped for an hour in a roomful of pregnant women. And she certainly didn’t have a mother who could step in to help.

  Going alone would be awkward. It would evoke pitying stares and solemn head shakes. But she needed the info. Bad.

  “I’m not working tonight,” Brad said. “I could go with you.”

  Sympathy lit his eyes, and that startled her. Weakened her. Oh, how he could still get to her, especially now, when she felt something she rarely ever felt in her professional life—vulnerable. On the edge of despair. Desperate for someone to hold her hand on this frightening journey.

  “I couldn’t ask that of you,” she said guardedly. That would be uncomfortable. Tense. Awkward. Wrong. She would do it on her own as she had faced so many other challenges.

  “Well, I am her uncle,” Brad continued. “You’d have some company. Maybe you should accept help once in a while instead of going this alone.”

  She met his gaze. Brad still had that cool confidence, that easy, relaxed manner he’d always possessed. Olivia couldn’t help being drawn i
n by those brilliant eyes, green as new leaves, unfathomable as the ocean.

  “How about I pick you up at six?” he asked.

  “Okay. It’s a date.” The answer poured from her mouth before she could stop it and she cringed at her weakness. It’s a date? Where had that come from? From the bowels of her weak, weak resolve, that was where.

  On cue, like the every-Wednesday-at-noon test of the community tornado siren that warned of disaster, Annabelle’s sudden cry through the baby monitor rent the air between them. Olivia stepped back at once, snapping out of her Brad-induced trance.

  As she rushed down the hallway to get the baby, Olivia groaned. Her mouth had clearly disconnected from her brain. Brad had sensed a weakness and he’d barged right in to prey upon it with his kind concern and his smoking hot body. And she’d fallen for it—her knees were shaking and her hands trembling, just like she was that naïve young girl who thought Brad Rushford held the world in his hands.

  How could she suddenly trust him, when yesterday he’d been so angry and upset she’d gotten Annabelle? What on earth had changed, except for a few pheromones in the air that had clearly sucked away all her good sense? She’d fallen back so easily into bad habits. Trusting him when there were red flags everywhere warning her not to put her feet in that ocean.

  Life was complicated enough. She could not allow him to complicate it further. She turned around and called his name. He halted at the door with a questioning look.

  “I-I’m sorry, but I think it’s best if I go alone. We’re not a couple and I-I just wouldn’t feel comfortable.” She hesitated before adding, “Thanks anyway, though.”

  Brad’s brows rose in a question, and he opened his mouth to speak. Instead he nodded his head and tossed her a polite smile. “Okay, Liv. See you around.”

  Once he’d left out the kitchen door, Olivia slapped a hand to her forehead. She’d handled that badly. But she’d done the right thing.

  Brad Rushford hadn’t lost his old talent to slip under her skin, reduce her to a puddle of melted syrup. And if she wasn’t careful, he’d slip under her panties, too, and that would be a disaster.

  He’d certainly changed his tone from yesterday. Apologizing, bringing coffee, flirting. It wasn’t like him to suddenly do a complete one-eighty on his feelings. She didn’t know what he was up to, but she was going to find out.

  CHAPTER 4

  “If I ran my business like this, I’d have no customers,” Brad mumbled as he tapped the hand bell on top of a glass-cased counter at Bridal Aisle, which was filled with girly satin purses, earrings, and beaded shoes.

  “Alex! Where the hell are you?” He looked warily around the destination shop his sister-in-law ran with her friend Meg Halloran. The rainbows of fancy dresses, the waif-like manikins with unnaturally skinny waists, and a table piled with bridal magazines made him realize he was in foreign territory, one he didn’t want a passport for.

  He was in a mood. Was having trouble concentrating at work, so he’d run over here on a quick errand to clear his head. It was a big mistake to have shown up with coffee this morning for his hot, sexy neighbor. He’d wanted to be friendly, cordial. How else could he convince her to do the right thing by Annabelle? Or find a weak spot he could infiltrate and seize the opportunity to find a better home for his niece?

  He’d gone over there with the specific intention of getting on her good side. Catching more bees with honey and all that. But the baby class had unexpectedly created an opportunity he simply couldn’t miss out on. She needed to see firsthand how much time and effort it took to raise a child. How much knowledge she lacked. That would be Step One to make her realize she was not the right person to be Annabelle’s mother.

  But he’d ended up being sucked in by her feminine force field, the exact same one that had crushed him when he was eighteen.

  Seeing her all tousled made him think of ways to keep her up all night that had nothing to do with crying infants. Their back-and-forth banter kept him on his toes. And there was something about her . . . a steely determination in the face of fear that made every cell in his body want to help her in any way possible instead of to undermine her. Even though she didn’t need it and would balk at the very suggestion of his aiding her in any way.

  There he went again. Brad knew every single success he’d earned was due to a laser-like focus on his goals. He was not about to let Olivia’s tight little ass or her melty cocoa eyes make him lose sight of his goal.

  Annabelle’s future.

  He’d do anything to secure that, including use Olivia’s insecurities to his advantage. He had so little time, and so few tools at his disposal. There had to be a way to appeal to her intelligence, her sense of logic, to make her see the truth.

  A pink curtain parted between the shop and the back room, and a pretty woman in a gray suit, hair piled up business-like on her head, approached the counter.

  “Quit your fussing, Bradley, we’re not even open yet.” Alex glanced at his hands. “Oh, you brought the doll. Thank goodness.” Her polished demeanor cracked with relief.

  Brad waggled the floppy doll he carried. “Found it wedged between the wall and my couch. I have no idea how it got there.”

  “Sure you don’t. You’d never roughhouse with my kids, would you?”

  Brad pointed innocently to himself. “Moi? Never!”

  She plucked the doll away. “We spent an hour last night looking for this.”

  “A whole hour? Isn’t that a bit extreme?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I can’t wait till you have kids of your own so I can remind you that you actually said that.”

  A petite woman with long straight hair the color of black coffee waved at them from across the store. He hadn’t seen her amid the racks of foofy dresses. She bounced a baby on her shoulder while humming a current pop song, her flowery peasant skirt swaying around her calves as she half walked, half danced through the aisles.

  “Meg,” Alex called out, leaning over the counter, “I’m pretty sure Olivia said she was only going to expose Annabelle to classical music. Somehow, I don’t think Katy Perry qualifies.”

  Annabelle? Brad did a double take as Meg approached with the pink-clad infant. He was officially outnumbered by a feminine factor of three. At least sweet, ruffly Meg wouldn’t hassle him whereas Alex, cashing in on the privilege of being his sister-in-law, would take free aim. With grenades.

  Big blue eyes blinked up at him. He cupped Annabelle’s head in one hand, her soft blonde baby fuzz tickling his skin. He was struck, as always, by her tininess. “Hey there, sugar. You’re looking pretty today.”

  Annabelle didn’t quite smile, but she kicked her legs, and Brad felt something in her steady, calm gaze that shot straight to his heart. Recognition. She knew who he was and was happy to see him. He felt it. A feeling of pleasure and pride ripped through him that renewed his determination to champion her at any cost.

  Meg gathered her hair away from the baby’s fists and draped it over her empty shoulder. “Oh, Annabelle’s got to learn to have rhythm. She needs pop music for that, don’t you, sweetie?”

  Alex shook her head. “Meg, for as much as you love music, it’s amazing you don’t dance.”

  A blush worked its way into Meg’s cheeks. She wasn’t as shy as she’d been in high school, but still hated to be put on the spot. “Not in public, anyway. I never grew up with it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel the thrill of the music just the same.”

  Had Olivia dropped Annabelle off with her two best friends? Brad scanned the store again. He really didn’t want to run into her, especially after she’d specifically uninvited him to baby class.

  “She’s in the bathroom, taking a migraine pill.” Meg was clearly onto him. “The past week’s been a little rough.”

  Tell me about it. “Anything I can do?” he asked, knowing these two women had it covered. A quick glance at his
phone told him he had to get back to work.

  “Actually, yes.” Meg handed Annabelle to him faster than a foul ball speeding down the third baseline to an unsuspecting fan in the stands. “Mrs. Kline and Priscilla are going to be here any minute and we’ve got to set up.”

  Brad readjusted the warm, sweet-smelling bundle. All of them had gone to school with Priscilla Kline, the mayor’s daughter. Her wedding promised to be the Mirror Lake event of the century. If the minions survived the preparations.

  Alex pointed to the back. “Olivia said something about Annabelle needing a bottle. Maybe you can help out for a few minutes?”

  Brad really had to go. He had a conference call in fifteen minutes and his seafood supplier was bringing in the daily shipment that he always inspected personally. “Well, I—”

  “Olivia’s so sick, she just needs some time for the medicine to kick in before she can function again,” Meg said solemnly.

  He suspected a setup from the Two Musketeers, who’d reconnoitered similar missions in the past. Just then, the bell over the door tinkled and a gaggle of women entered, talking boisterously amongst themselves.

  He had no desire to run into Priscilla, who’d had a larger-than-life crush on him a few years ago.

  Besides, Olivia’s guard would be down. Maybe he could use that to get her to see the error of her ways. Just then, Annabelle stared at him with her stellar baby blues and curled her tiny finger possessively around his pinky.

  He always was a sucker for a pretty woman. “Where is she?” he said on a sigh.

  Through the curtain, the large storeroom was dim. He spotted Olivia half sitting, half lying, her back to him, on an old velvet-cushioned settee.

  “Alex, is that you?” Olivia called. “I’m about to hurl my breakfast all over your antique couch because I can’t open this damn pill.”