This Thing Called Love (A Mirror Lake Novel) Page 9

  “A better question is, what the hell happened in baby class?”

  “Nothing.” Brad paused. “Okay, maybe something did. But I’m going to fix it. I’ve got to go.”

  Relieved that Annabelle was okay, Brad stopped briefly in the kitchen to tell his staff he’d be back at 8:00 a. m.

  In his car, Brad slammed his hands on the steering wheel and cursed. No matter what he told himself, Olivia wasn’t a fleeting, temporary memory from an innocent time long past. She was as deeply entrenched in him as the massive roots of the centuries-old beech trees in the town square. It appeared he was as incapable of undermining her as he was of forgetting her.

  He couldn’t stand her feeling badly because of him. He wanted to apologize. Be her advocate instead of her enemy. He couldn’t give her anything else, but he could at least give her that.

  As he headed out of the lot, he couldn’t believe he’d just chosen complicated, full-of-trouble, give-him-grief Olivia over all-I-want-is-sex Erika.

  CHAPTER 9

  The incessant knocking forced Olivia to come to the door even though she wanted company about as much as she wanted her wisdom teeth pulled. Brad stood propped on the other side, his thick crop of hair and the tip of his nose pressed against the screen, making for a scary sight. She smoothed down her old gray T-shirt, covered with water blotches from Annabelle’s bath. “It’s been a long day. I’m really not up for company.”

  “I come bearing food.” He dangled a cardboard take-out box in front of her. “And something to wash it down with.” He produced two icy cold bottles of beer from behind his back. He looked at her with a hopeful expression. “Now will you let me in?”

  “Brad, I’m really tired. I’m afraid I’m going to have to take a rain check.” Something smelled really amazing in those cartons but no way was she going to show any further weakness in front of him today, even for something as elemental as hunger. Her stomach betrayed her by growling loudly in protest.

  “Actually, the food is just a peace offering. I came over to talk with you.” He paused. “Please.” His eyes held a soft, penitent look that mushed up her insides a little and almost got to her.

  Olivia cast him a wary glance. “I don’t want any more advice about what I should do for Annabelle.” Her gut was still all twisted up about that. She hadn’t even been able to eat dinner with Alex.

  He grinned widely. “No more advice. I promise.” He pushed open the screen and strode through the doorway, handing her the beers and setting the take-out containers on the small kitchen table, which stood between the kitchen and family room.

  He wore a T-shirt and athletic shorts, and his feet were bare. As he made himself at home, finding plates and silverware, Olivia did not want to notice the broad chest that tapered down to a lean waist or his tanned legs full of rock-hard muscle, covered with the same light coat of bronze hair she’d seen on his arms. He looked as delicious as the food smelled.

  But looks were deceiving. He had his own agenda to push and it was the opposite of hers. She was exhausted and upset and fed up and she would not allow sex hormones to rule her body.

  He turned from the table, his gaze raking her with a slow sweep. He lifted one well-defined brow. “Wow, what happened to you? Water fight?”

  Olivia looked down at her shirt. A water stain revealed the outline of her bra and oh, God, was that a nipple perking up? She quickly peeled the shirt away from her skin. “I’m sure you’d like to show me how fast you can bathe a baby without spilling a drop of water but I’m tired.”

  Brad’s Adam’s apple rolled in his neck. He stared at her breast. Maybe she wasn’t the only one whose hormones were firing out of line.

  Olivia crossed her hands over her chest.

  “I’m not here to criticize you, Olivia.” Brad cleared his throat, took a glance around at the kitchen. A hot mess abounded—baby bottles, a heap of towels and baby clothes, a pile of mail her boss had forwarded from work. Once she’d edited a book called A Hundred Ways to Keep Clutter at Bay. Too bad she hadn’t had any time to put even one into effect.

  Brad leveled his gaze directly at her. “You left before dinner.”

  What a bad idea that had been, to follow Alex’s lead to go to Brad’s restaurant. But it had seemed safe, as he’d said he wasn’t going to be there. How was she supposed to know he was taking Ms. Hottie Reporter to his restaurant on a date? She must be someone special if he’d brought her to the place that was so obviously his pride and joy. Worse, how was Olivia supposed to explain why she’d left? She’d already used up the headache excuse for today.

  Olivia’s mouth ran, working overtime to fill up the uncomfortable space between them. “Rosie lost her doll again, so Alex left before it turned into a crisis.” She flicked her wrist nonchalantly. “You know how it is, kids and all.” Over her dead body would she admit stress as an excuse for leaving. “Your restaurant is really beautiful, though.”

  Brad took a step closer. His rich cologne tickled her nostrils. And something more, a scent that was exclusively him that was familiar and strangely comforting. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to stay longer for the whole experience.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe next time.” He was still staring. “Look, you’ve made your point already. You didn’t need to come over here to reinforce it, to bribe me with food and pretend to be nice.” She could not risk falling for him again. Or allow him to comfort her when he clearly had a bigger agenda. So she backed up too fast, her heel smacking into the base of a kitchen cabinet. Maybe the impact jarred something loose inside her brain, because suddenly she had to tell it like it was.

  Rubbing her injured foot, she continued, “Let’s face it. I’m a single woman with a demanding job who inherited an infant I haven’t got a clue about taking care of, and I think it was probably an accident that my name got put on the will.”

  Olivia inhaled deeply in an attempt at control. She should’ve stopped right then, but the more she tried to hold back, the more her anger flared. “I’ll tell you one thing, Brad Rushford, you big hulking know-it-all”—she stabbed him in the chest with her index finger—“one thing growing up without a mother taught me. That was to be independent and to know my own mind, because I knew no one was going to defend me or pick me up when I fell or kiss my booboos. I had to rely on myself.

  “So regardless of how much you fight me, you can’t take away one simple fact. I love this baby. From the moment Alex put her in my arms and I saw her tiny helpless face, I knew I would do whatever it takes to give her a great life. A fantastic life. And I don’t know if my sister truly had the faith in me to do this, but I loved her with all my heart and I swear to God I will love and cherish her baby forever. So you can stop judging me and leave me be.”

  Olivia clamped her hand over her eyes because tears were streaming down her face like rivulets of rain down a windshield. A great sob shook her. She moved to back away from him, to flee the kitchen, but Brad grasped her by the arms and dragged her solidly against his big broad chest. Initially she fought him, but he was built of solid rock and she wasn’t going anywhere. One hand stroked her head as if she were a child while the other made tiny circles on her back. “Shhh,” he said. “It’s all right. I miss them, too.”

  Against her will, she gave in, because sharing the burden of her grief was the greatest comfort she’d experienced since her sister died. She wanted to stay like that forever, drawing solace and strength from his big body. But she didn’t trust him. Not at all. So she made herself push away. “Let go of me. You’ve been trying to undermine me since I came.”

  He loosened his hold but didn’t let go. “You’re right. And I’m sorry.”

  She stilled. The fight drained out of her like a fizzling balloon. Did she hear him correctly? “Why are you suddenly changing your tune?”

  “I thought I knew what was best for Annabelle. I was wrong.”

  “And now you suddenly
believe that I’m the right person to mother that baby?”

  He traced a tear with his finger, cupped her face in his big strong hands. His eyes filled with raw tenderness and, God help her, she felt the truth of that look through to her bones. “You’ve always been so hard on yourself,” he said. “Most people have nine months to get used to the idea of having a baby and you’ve had two days. Give yourself a break.”

  A huge avalanche of relief broke over her and dammit, she cried even more.

  No one moved. For a suspended second, the clock drew out one slow tick at a time. Brad’s cool green eyes filled up with heat, his gaze drilling down on her as if she were dinner.

  She could not look away. But she had to, before they crossed over into a moment that would stretch from awkward to just plain weird. “We should probably eat before it gets cold.”

  Brad shook his head.

  “You’re not hungry?” she asked, her heart stumbling.

  He smiled, slow and wide and predatory. A glint gleamed in his eyes. “Oh, I’m hungry, all right.”

  She gasped. Her skin flooded with heat. Instinct caused her to try and flee but it was impossible to move.

  “Eat later,” he said, cupping her neck with his hand and pulling her close as he covered her lips with his.

  He devoured her with wet, deep kisses, tangling their tongues as he plunged deep. An uncontrollable moan that sounded nothing at all like her voice left her lips as she met him stroke for stroke. He took hold of her face, angling it for ultimate possession. Their bodies locked into place, flush against each other, all her soft curves against his hard, unrelenting ones. He felt so damn good and tasted so delicious, her knees buckled. In one fell swoop, Brad nudged her a few steps backwards until they both toppled onto the family room couch.

  He smoothed a rough hand down her cheeks, gently pushing the unruly curls away. His face was inches away, and she got lost in those amazing green eyes that contained a softness akin to the way he looked at Annabelle. And yet different, mixed with a raw, primitive wanting that turned her blood to liquid heat. “I want you,” he said roughly.

  She reached up her hands to encircle his wrists and met his eyes, which were dangerous and dark with need. His pulse throbbed hard and fast beneath her fingertips, and it thrilled her to know how intensely she affected him. Rendered speechless, her breath coming in choppy gasps, all she could do was nod helplessly.

  Leaving no room for hesitation, he took her mouth again, teasing his tongue in and out, tasting her, pausing only long enough to whisk off his shirt and help her with hers. His erection strained against her, demanding and large. She clawed at the flexing muscles of his back, trying to pull him down to feel the delicious pressure of his body over hers.

  Her worry and confusion fled like fireflies into the warm evening, the void replaced by a flood of desire. She wanted him. God, she wanted him, ten thousand times more than ever before.

  Olivia traced the waistband of his shorts, roved over the taut muscle of his lean hips, tugged on the button of his shorts until it popped open, and threaded her fingers under his briefs. His hands skimmed her waist, her back, even as his mouth continued its path down her trembling flesh. His lips were everywhere, searing a trail of heat along her stomach, her hip, her navel.

  He was the same, yet totally different, this man she’d known intimately from so long ago. Loaded with confidence and the secret knowledge of exactly what she wanted, he was all raw sexual energy, animal heat, and total skyrocketing hotness.

  A voice penetrated the screen door and their sexual haze. “Oh my God, what is going on in there? Brad, is that you?”

  Olivia’s hands froze. Brad tore his lips from hers and turned to the door, using his body like a shield. “Alex? What are you doing here?” he growled.

  His twisting movement caused Olivia to tumble to the floor. She dashed a shirt over her head. Alex walked in, the screen door smacking its frame like a scold. She glared at Brad. “I thought Olivia was being attacked.”

  Yeah, right. Olivia knew exactly what she thought, and exactly why she’d barged in. To stop her from making a huge mistake.

  Between her bedraggled hair and the oversized tee—dammit, she’d grabbed Brad’s by mistake—she knew exactly what she must look like. Like they’d been having sex all night. The shock and horror she felt was mirrored in Alex’s face.

  Alex descended on Brad like a mother hen. “Tom told me it sounded as if you were thinking of teaching Olivia a lesson at baby class. And I ran into Jeanine Peterson in Gertie’s. She said you were the only guy in the class who knew what plagiocephaly was. Is that true?” She poked a finger in his chest. “And now you’re taking advantage of my best friend when she’s at her most vulnerable.”

  “Alex, please. You’re overreacting,” Olivia said.

  Alex stood unrelenting, hands on hips. “Ask him, Olivia. Just ask him.”

  “He came to baby class to help out. So I would have a partner.” Olivia met his gaze but his eyes immediately dropped. “Didn’t you?”

  Brad exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. His hesitation spoke louder than words.

  Olivia narrowed her eyes. “You purposely came to make me feel insecure, more than I already am?”

  “Let me explain,” Brad said.

  “We’re waiting,” Alex said, tapping her toe like an impatient schoolmarm.

  His gaze, usually so direct, shifted downward like a guilty schoolboy’s. “I admit I wanted to get you to see my side. But I meant everything I just said, Olivia. I understand you feel upset and confused and—”

  Upset? Confused? It sounded so demeaning. “So you’d capitalize on my confusion even further to get me into bed?”

  “No! That was just hormones.”

  “Just hormones?” She picked up the nearest object—her flip-flop—and tossed it at his head. It hit him in the ear. “Get out.”

  “Alex is rabble-rousing.” Brad shot Alex a deadly glare. “I can explain.”

  Olivia shook her head. “Alex is protecting me. Please leave.”

  And for the final cherry on top of the whole ugly scene, the baby let out a very unhappy wail.

  “Are you all right?” Alex asked sometime later. She handed Olivia a cup of chamomile tea, Trish’s favorite, and sat down next to Olivia on the couch.

  “Considering I almost had sex with my ex, and he’s a sleazeball, yes and no.”

  “Oh, honey.” She sat down beside her. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I tried your cell, but you weren’t answering.”

  “Trust me, I’m glad you came. I almost made the mistake of a lifetime.” Visions filled her head of a toddler-sized Annabelle opening a Christmas present from Uncle Brad and Aunt Kardashian while she looked on, gritting her teeth and praying for the holiday to be over. “Thank God you came.”

  Olivia sipped the tea, took cleansing breaths. It was okay. It wasn’t too late. “He was so nice. He brought dinner, we chatted like old times . . .”

  “It’s Brad turning on his charm.”

  God, she’d been so stupid. She was almost thirty years old, yet she acted like a naïve teenager again, trusting him when she never, ever should have. “I never thought he’d stoop to that level.”

  “Brad is a good man, Olivia. But this is going too far. Look, I do not expect you to come to the picnic tomorrow.”

  The picnic. All the Rushfords would be there. When she told Alex she’d made a date to have dinner with her dad, she’d invited him, too.

  “No.” She was not about to drop her tail between her legs and skip. “I want to see everyone and I want to bring Annabelle.”

  She’d show him she was competent to mother this baby, and she’d make him regret the day he ever tried to mess with her.

  CHAPTER 10

  “You broke the code of the Brotherhood,” Brad said as he sat on the picnic table, drinkin
g a beer and watching Tom rotate chicken breasts on his new outdoor grill. He scanned the yard, with its big old trees dotting a green slope of grass that led down to the lake. His family was gathered on the big deck, enjoying cold drinks and talking. The midday sun was hot and sweet, perfect for the first Rushford picnic of the season.

  But Olivia wasn’t there. She’d ignored his calls. She probably wouldn’t even show today.

  Guilt pummeled him. He’d been an idiot to try to make her feel bad.

  “Sometimes you’ve got to choose between brotherhood and marriage-hood.” Tom said as he stopped poking at the chicken and closed the grill lid.

  “Sex was involved, wasn’t it?” Brad asked.

  “Something like that.” Tom’s smile—and the candy pink hearts on his black apron—dulled the intimidation factor of his large frame.

  “All I said was you were a little too eager to get to baby class. She figured out the rest.”

  Alex stepped down from the sliding patio door and crossed the deck. Even on her day off she looked classy in red walking shorts and a navy polo. She tossed both of them a glare. “Here’s the chicken. And so help me Brad, I don’t want any trouble with Olivia today.”

  Tom took the chicken from his wife and tapped her playfully on the derriere.

  She swatted his hand away in mock annoyance. “Mind your manners—your grandma’s watching.” She honed in on Brad. “The whole family’s here, including Olivia’s dad. So best behavior, is that clear?”

  Great. Frank Marks would find a way to stick more burrs in his side, for sure. But he’d handle it. Brad saluted. “Aye, Captain.”

  Alex put her hands on her hips. “If only you used that smarty-pants business brain of yours, you’d realize that helping Olivia would be a whole lot better than antagonizing her.”

  “I’m not as much of an asshole as you think.” He actually didn’t care so much what Alex thought of him—but he did want to make things right with Olivia. That’s why he’d gone over there last night, before things got out of control. One look at her liquid chocolate eyes and her tight little ass and every caveman instinct he possessed came hurtling out, all reason tossed out the window. He should never have let that happen.