Forever His Bride (4 page)

What about Josh—who did he have? His parents hadn’t bothered coming to his wedding, which Brenna felt should have taken priority over their anniversary, and while the twins called his best friend Uncle Nick, he wasn’t really their uncle. He certainly wasn’t maternal. The boys needed a mother.

Buzz shivered in his damp shirt. “I’m cold, Brenna.”

“You’re a sissy girl,” TJ accused his brother through quivering lips. He struggled to keep his teeth from chattering when gusts of cool air blew out of the vents above them.

Hunkering down beside the boys, Brenna wrapped an arm around each twin and pulled them close for a hug.

“Umm-hmm,” Buzz nodded, before he and TJ wriggled loose. “You smell good.”

“You’re really pretty, too,” TJ said, probably in competition with his twin for the better compliment. His sticky fingers tugged on a lock of her hair. “I like red. It’s my favorite color.”

TJ’s father had said it was his favorite color, too, which was why she’d chosen it for the flowers and the bridesmaids’ dresses.

“I wish you were going to be our new mommy,” the boy said, easily winning the compliment competition.

“We like you more than Molly,” Buzz agreed. “Why can’t you be our new mommy?”

“Uh…” she stammered, having no idea what to say. “Your daddy and I haven’t even known each other very long.”

“He doesn’t know Molly, either,” TJ pointed out.

They were so smart
.

“But he doesn’t love me, honey.” And Brenna, growing up with parents who were as devoted to each other as they were to her, had vowed long ago to marry for
nothing
less than love.

“He doesn’t love Molly, either,” Buzz insisted.

“Honey, your dad wouldn’t have asked her to marry him if he didn’t love her.” Would he have? Or was he just as desperate to find a mother for his sons as they were? “Besides which, you guys don’t really know me.”

“We love you,” TJ declared.

Brenna blinked back tears of longing. She didn’t have to worry about just falling for Josh. She was falling for his sons, too.

B
RENNA MOVED
through the crowd, looking for Josh. If not for Nick just telling her he was still looking for the boys, she wouldn’t have sought him out. She would have gone on trying to avoid him. And his sons.

She found him near the bar, cornered by two of the town’s busiest bodies. Mrs. Hild, the organist, stood so close to him that the brim of her flower-trimmed hat poked into his chest. “It’s such a scandal.”

“A real scandal,” her cohort, Mrs. Carpenter, wholeheartedly agreed, patting her home-permed white curls. Her husband, the owner of Carpenter’s Hardware on Main Street, had the well-earned reputation of being the thriftiest man in town.

“I can’t believe Molly would run out like that on her own wedding.” The flowers wobbled as Mrs. Hild shook her head. “Now it’s the wedding-that-wasn’t.”

“Doesn’t make sense,” Mrs. Carpenter agreed. “Molly has always been such a smart girl.”

“Nose always in a book,” Mrs. Hild added. “Read everything in the library. Heck, she just about lived in that library.”

“Makes no sense,” Mrs. Carpenter repeated, her eyes wide as she assessed Josh’s good looks.

“Can I borrow Dr. Towers?” Brenna asked, reaching between the older women to grasp Josh’s arm and pull him away. “Your children need you.”

“Such adorable little scamps,” Mrs. Carpenter murmured as Brenna led him from the bar.

“And their father.” Mrs. Hild’s loud sigh reached them. “He’s the spitting image of JFK junior. Such a handsome, handsome boy…”

“Molly McClintock must have lost her mind,” Mrs. Carpenter declared.

Brenna swallowed her agreement, along with a chuckle at the lasciviousness of the two women.

“Where are the boys? I’ve been looking all over for them,” Josh said, his eyes dark with concern for his children. He obviously didn’t care what Mrs. Hild, Mrs. Carpenter or anyone else said about him. Or he wouldn’t have shown up at his reception.

“Evidently you haven’t looked in the alley,” Brenna informed him. “Or the ladies’ room.”

He closed his eyes. “They were outside? By themselves?”

“I was with them every minute,” she assured him, although she hadn’t been quite fast enough to prevent the pop fight.

“And the ladies’ room?” he asked. “Are the toilets working?”

Brenna laughed. “Yes. Everything’s okay. You probably won’t get the deposit back on their tuxedoes. But otherwise they’re fine.”

He pushed a hand through his black hair as a grin stole across his mouth. “Never a dull moment. Not since the day they were born. They need constant supervision, or they get into trouble. Where are they now?”

“With my folks. Mama and Pop can handle them,” she assured him. “Nick said you were looking for them, though.”

“Where is he?”

“Are you still avoiding your best man?” she asked.

Josh shook his head. Just as the town gossips had cornered him at the bar, Nick had cornered Josh in the men’s room earlier. His friend didn’t understand why Josh had insisted on coming to the reception. Hell, he didn’t understand why Josh hadn’t changed his mind about opening the office and moving to Cloverville. He expected Josh to sell the building and the house he’d finally admitted to buying. He hadn’t realized what Josh already understood—that Cloverville had a lot to offer.

“Dance with me,” he said. “I haven’t danced once tonight.”

She shook her head. “I just rescued you from the town busybodies, but you’re determined to get their tongues wagging again.”

Josh shrugged. “Sweetheart, I’m going to be the talk of this town for many years to come, no matter what I do.” Maybe Nick was right. Maybe he
should
change his plans, sell the office building, sell the house and salvage some of his pride. “Why is dancing with you going to get the tongues wagging again?”

Her usually throaty voice slightly prim, she informed him, “A groom is supposed to dance his first dance with the bride.”

“That’s a little hard to do when the bride’s taken off,” Josh pointed out. “Pretty sad that a woman was so desperate to get away from me that she ran away from all her family and friends, too.”

“Maybe not all her friends,” Brenna muttered.

“What?” Was Brenna referring to the guy who’d backed out of the wedding party at the last minute—the guy Molly had often talked about, Eric South? Although South was a paramedic at the hospital where Josh worked, he couldn’t remember ever having met him. Of course he didn’t often work out of the E.R. “Do you know where she is?”

“Sure, I’ll dance with you,” she said now, as if desperate to change the subject.

Josh wouldn’t pressure her for Molly’s whereabouts in the way that Nick would. His best man thought Josh needed to talk to his fiancée, in order to accept that the engagement was over. But even though their engagement wasn’t officially broken, Josh knew he and Molly wouldn’t ever be getting married.

He linked his fingers with Brenna’s and led her through the twirling and swaying couples on the dance floor. “Now I see where Nick’s gotten to. He’s dancing with Colleen,” he observed. He had known Nick a long time, but he couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen that particular expression on his friend’s face before—a mixture of awe, fear and fascination.

“And Abby and Clayton are dancing,” Brenna mused breathlessly, obviously stunned at this new development between her friends.

Finding an open space on the floor, Josh stopped and turned toward Brenna. But he didn’t have her attention, as she still watched the other couple. Brenna’s eyes widened as the oldest McClintock leaned over and kissed Abby.

“Wow,” she whistled, “no wonder the boys were cold. Hell has just frozen over.”

Josh pulled Brenna’s soft, curvy body into his arms. “The boys were cold?”

He closed his eyes on a wave of guilt. He should be focused on them right now, on their disappointment in not getting the new mommy he’d promised them. Instead he was focusing only on Brenna, on how perfectly she fit into his arms, against his body. How his pulse raced and his skin tingled from the slightest contact with her.

“I warmed them up,” she assured him, “with some dry paper towels and a hug.”

“Buzz and TJ?” he checked.

“I haven’t noticed any other miniature versions of you running around here,” she teased.

“They stood still long enough for you to give them a hug?” he asked, disbelieving. He had to bribe them for hugs.

“Well, they were cold from their pop fight.”

He winced. “Pop fight?” No wonder she considered the tuxedo deposits a loss.

“They were shaking up pop bottles, then spraying them at each other like squirt guns.”

Josh groaned. “I’m sorry they’ve been so much trouble.”

“
They’re
no trouble at all.”

“But I am?” Josh asked, surprised by her tone. Did she feel it, too—the attraction, the possibilities between them?

Brenna dragged in a breath, scented with Josh’s citrusy aftershave, and shook her head. “You’re no trouble.”

His arms tightened around her back, pulling her closer so that her breasts pressed against his chest. His heart pounded fast and hard—she could feel the beat of it in sync with hers. He said, “You don’t sound convinced.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Of course not,” he agreed, easing away slightly. “I’ve been nothing but trouble for you. You worked so hard on the wedding and reception.”

Brenna glanced toward her friends, all of whom had abandoned their partners on the dance floor. She gave Colleen credit for leaving the best man standing alone. Nick Jameson was obviously trouble, and Colleen had realized it. The girl was stronger than she knew. Pride lifted Brenna’s lips into a smile. Colleen was nearly as much her little sister as she was Molly’s. She had often hung out at the Kelly house growing up, and she still did today.

And Clayton. The man looked as stunned to have kissed Abby as Brenna had been to witness it. Even though Abby had run away from him, maybe she’d finally stopped fighting her feelings. Mrs. McClintock might get her wish after all.

“Maybe it’s not turning out so badly,” Brenna said, referring to his earlier comment. Then her breath caught as she thought about how this sounded. “I mean, for everyone else. Obviously it hasn’t worked out for you.”

“Brenna…” He slid his fingertips along her cheekbone to the curve of her jaw. Her skin tingled everywhere he touched her.

His eyes darkening as his pupils widened, he murmured, “Maybe it’s not turning out so badly for me, either.” Then he leaned forward, as if he intended to kiss her.

Her heart pounding wildly, Brenna pulled away. She wanted Josh so badly she must have imagined he felt the attraction, too. And that just wasn’t possible. “I really need to go check on my friends.”

Abby kissing Clayton. Colleen staring up at Nick Jameson as if she were deeply infatuated. Apparently, Brenna wasn’t the only one who was falling.

Josh nodded. “I understand. I wish…”

“What?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking.

He shook his head. “I wish that I was your friend, too.” The sparkle in his eyes hinted that maybe he would like to be more than her friend. But she had to be imagining that, just as she’d imagined he intended to kiss her. That sparkle must have been a reflection from the strobe light spinning over their heads.

“We are friends,” she assured him. With his first e-mail, she’d felt as if they’d become friends, as if she were planning Molly’s wedding more for Joshua Towers than for the friend Brenna had known since kindergarten.

And now she was ashamed of herself. Could she be any more disloyal? Yes—she could have kissed her best friend’s groom.

“I really need to check on my friends,” she insisted, her voice cracking with nerves.

“And I should go check on the boys,” he murmured as he followed her off the dance floor.

Brenna picked up her pace, dodging other couples and dancing children. She needed some distance between them, needed to gain some perspective.

She’d already lied to Josh when she’d assured him he wasn’t trouble. Because he was—for Brenna’s head
and
her heart. How would she survive two weeks with him and his lovable boys living in her house?

J
OSH STRIPPED OFF
his bow tie and shrugged out of his jacket, then draped it over the back of one of the spindly-legged chairs in the parlor. He shouldn’t have agreed to stay here, for so many reasons.

His body tensed as the floorboards creaked above his head. Brenna’s room was directly above the parlor, in the turret of the Kellys’ old Victorian house. She was awake, too. Her parents had come home a while ago, checked in on him and then headed to bed. And the boys were dead to the world, sleeping just as they played—flat out. There was something intimate, he thought, about Brenna and him being the only two people awake in a quiet house.

He shook his head. There could be
nothing
intimate between them, no matter how much Brenna’s beauty and generosity tempted him. He was still engaged. And even if he wasn’t, he was done rushing into relationships.

Something beeped in the small, crowded room. Did the Kellys have a lie detector among their antiques? But then he realized that the sound emanated from his jacket. He pulled his cell phone, which issued a low-battery warning, from one of the pockets. When he flipped it open the little envelope icon flashed on the LCD screen, indicating voice mail.

“Probably Nick,” he muttered. He had an excuse for deleting the message, too—his battery was low. But he still appreciated his friend’s concern, so he speed-dialed the voice-mail box and punched in his access code.

A soft, feminine voice filled his ear. “Josh, I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me…”

How could he? When he suspected she’d saved them both from making a terrible mistake.

Molly’s message continued, “You said you’d understand. I hope you do.”

That was it, and the phone reverted to an automated voice telling him which number to push to delete the message and which to save.

“Molly, what do I do?” he asked himself, trying to decipher her cryptic message. “Do I delete or save?” Were they over, was their engagement broken, or would she return and expect him to be waiting?

He’d never said he loved her, and she’d never made that vow to him. They cared for each other, though. And yet she must have realized just in time that that wasn’t enough to build a marriage on. If only he’d realized that before he’d proposed.

Undoing some of the buttons on his shirt, he struggled to compose himself. Heavy velvet drapes hung at the parlor windows and furniture filled every corner. Feeling trapped in the crowded room and by his own promise, he ducked out onto the porch.

A shadow shifted near the railing where the porch wrapped around the kitchen and dining room. Maybe he and Brenna weren’t the only two awake.

“Pop?” he called out as he skirted rockers and deck chairs until he reached the table where someone sat.

Then the clouds shifted, and moonlight shone so brightly it could have been morning already. He glanced at his watch. Hell, it nearly was. His breath caught as he realized who else occupied the deck. Brenna sat at the patio table. Moonlight shimmered in her hair, making the auburn strands glow like fire. She’d changed out of her bridesmaid dress, and now the tank top she wore with pajamas bottoms left her creamy shoulders bare but for thin spaghetti straps. He let go of the breath he’d been holding.

“Want some?” she asked in that husky voice of hers.

“What?”

She lifted a fork. “Cake?”

“No.” He shook his head and lied. “I’m not hungry.” Then he swallowed, as nervous as a teenager on his first date, and added, “I’m still full from dinner.” Even though he hadn’t eaten more than a few bites.

“There’s always room for cake,” she insisted.

“Sounds like something Buzz and TJ would say,” he remarked, debating whether he should pull out the chair beside her or return to the parlor.

Her mouth curved into an affectionate smile. “I just knew they were kindred spirits.”

“Well, they’ve been called little devils,” he admitted.

“They’re sweet.”

“When they’re sleeping.”

“Why aren’t
you
sleeping?” Then she winced and answered her own question. “The pullout bed probably isn’t very comfortable.”

“It’s fine.”

“You should have taken my bed, and then you’d be right next to the boys.”

“I can’t take your bed.” Because then he’d think about sleeping in it—with her. He suppressed a groan.

“Your loss,” she said. “I have a feather mattress. And that pullout is one of Mama and Pop’s antiques. You know how you can tell a tree’s age from the rings in its trunk? You can tell the age of that bed by the number of lumps in its mattress.”

“The bed isn’t why I can’t sleep,” he insisted.
She
was.

“Then have some of the punch Pop brought back from the reception.” She gestured toward the pitcher on the table. “I can get you a glass with some ice.” Drops of condensation ran down the sides of hers, pooling on the tabletop.

“You enjoy your cake. I’ll get the ice.” He needed something to cool off.

Brenna held her breath until he ducked through the sliding doors into the kitchen. Then she sighed. Coming downstairs for cake had been a mistake. Not because she didn’t need the extra calories. She firmly believed what she’d told him—there was
alway
s room for cake. But because she’d risked running into him. Yet if she were honest with herself, and Brenna was always honest with herself, maybe that was what she’d wanted far more than cake. To see Josh again.

Through the glass doors, she watched him move around the kitchen. He’d discarded the jacket, tie and cummerbund and had undone some of the buttons of his pleated shirt. Dark stubble clung to his jaw, enhancing rather than detracting from his devastating good looks. She closed her eyes against temptation and chided herself. “He’s not yours.”

“What’d you say?” Josh asked as he stepped out onto the porch again.

Brenna shoved another forkful of moist chocolate cake into her mouth. “Mmm…Good cake.”

While his eyes narrowed in apparent suspicion, Josh nodded as if accepting her explanation. He filled his glass from the pitcher and then settled onto the chair across from her. “I wanted to thank you…”

“You already did,” she interrupted him.

“I thanked you for your work on the wedding.” He laughed. “Or the wedding-that-wasn’t.”

“You heard that?” What the town gossips had dubbed his cancelled ceremony.

“When they’re right…” He sighed. “I appreciate how hard you and your family worked on that, but mostly I wanted to thank you for tonight, for helping me put the boys to bed.”

She shrugged. “It was nothing.” But it hadn’t felt like nothing. It had felt as if
they
were a family. As if
she
were the mom, and those adorable boys were
her
sons, and their handsome father,
her
husband. And that would never be.

He was Molly’s man.

“And you couldn’t have managed both of them on your own,” she pointed out.

He laughed again, his eyes warm with love for his sons. “Oh, I know they’re a handful, but I can manage them. I’ve had to learn.”

“You must have help with them.”

“Paid help,” he admitted. “But for some reason nannies have never seemed to last too long…”

“What about your folks?”

“They’re not like yours,” he said with an appreciative smile for her parents. “For one thing, they still live in Detroit, where Dad’s an automotive engineer. He’s always busy with work. And Mom has a heart condition. Weak valves. She doesn’t have enough energy to deal with Buzz and TJ.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Brenna said.

“You’re lucky,” he said, “that your parents are so…”

“Overwhelming?”

“I was going to say energetic.”

She smiled. “They’re certainly healthy, so I am lucky. I remember what Molly went through when Mr. McClintock got sick.”

“She and I have talked about that.”

“She told you?” Despite all their years of friendship, Molly had never talked much with Brenna about losing her father.

“Yeah, it sounds like it was tough on all of them.”

“It was toughest on Mrs. McClintock.” Brenna sighed. “She lost the love of her life.” Was Josh the love of Molly’s life? Brenna had always thought that Eric was. But maybe that was just wishful thinking now.

“Molly told me how close her parents were, and how devastated her mother was when her dad died,” he said. “My parents have that kind of relationship, too. That strong bond, that love and commitment that carries them through sickness and health.”

Brenna was moved by the longing in his voice. “You want that, too?”

His gaze met hers and held. “Doesn’t everyone?”

She nodded, then cleared her throat and asked, “Have you heard from Molly?”

“She left me a voice mail.” He lifted the glass to his lips, swallowed a mouthful, and then coughed and sputtered. “What’s in this?”

“Spikes. Or nails.”

“What?”

“That was Buzz and TJ’s interpretation of Nick telling them the punch bowl had been spiked.”

His eyes rounded. “They didn’t have…”

She shook her head. “No. So can you tell me what she said? Or is it too personal? I don’t want to pry, but…” She damn well wanted to know what explanation her friend had given for backing out.

He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. “She didn’t say much. She’s sorry. She hopes I understand.”

“Do you?”

He rose from his chair and walked toward the railing to stare across the moonlit garden. “She came to see me last night and admitted she was having doubts.”

From his tone, Brenna suspected Molly wasn’t the only one who’d been having doubts. Or was that more wishful thinking on her part? “If she was having doubts, then she did the right thing by not marrying you. Granted, she could have handled things better, so that you weren’t…”

“Humiliated?”
Josh asked when her voice trailed off into the darkness. “I wasn’t, really. Hell, I should be used to women running out on me.” He pushed a hand through his hair, then laughed at himself. “Damn, don’t I sound full of self-pity?”

“You’re entitled,” Brenna said as she stood and joined him at the rail. Stepping close to him, she patted his arm as her dad would have done.

But she didn’t have Pop’s massive hands or his strength. Her pat was gentle, her touch lingering as the heat of her palm penetrated the thin material of his shirt. His skin tingled, and his body tensed.

“You’ve had a bad day,” she said, almost as if he was one of the twins and she was excusing a temper tantrum.

“No, I think Nick’s right,” he admitted. “Although I’ll deny it if you tell him that.”

She laughed. “Okay, your secret’s safe with me.”

He wondered. Would she keep his real secret—that he was more attracted to her than he’d ever been to the woman he was supposed to have married that day?