His Perfect Woman (Harlequin Superromance) (6 page)

“Marriage
is
great,” Joe said with a snort.

“Even when you're sleeping separately?”

“She doesn't sleep well now and I thought it would help to give her more room.”

“Whatever gets you through the night.” Had they not become such good friends, Bryan would've been intimidated by the look he received from the solidly built ex-con.

“Don't know why you're so focused on
my
sleep habits when yours are the talk of the town. Now that I think about it…isn't the
Tribune
's new contest going on right now?”

The mention of the newspaper's annual reader poll gave Joe just enough of an edge that Bryan struggled to keep up, huffing for breath while he fought to block Joe and get the ball. “I should sue that damned newspaper.”

“Why?” Joe smirked over his shoulder. “Because you're
not
up
to satisfying the women who come out of the woodwork to chase you anymore? Ah, man, wait till I tell Wilson and Pop!”
Bounce, bounce
.

Bryan glared, his ego clamoring for defense. “I'm not up to
marrying
them, you mean. Every woman out there wants a ring on her finger. I can't just date anymore, and I got tired of the fights and tears when I turn them down and say I'm not the marrying kind.”

Joe paused. “Ever?”

“Ever,” he stated decisively.

The dribbling slowed, and the intensity disappeared from the game. “Are you serious?” Joe demanded. “You don't ever want to get married?”

“You gonna stand around all day talking like a woman or play?”

Joe ignored the question and stared at him like he'd lost his mind. Maybe he had. “You told me your parents have been married forty years.”

“They have.”

“Then what do you have against marriage?”

Bryan stole the ball and backed away. Joe lunged to get it back, but Bryan was ready for him. “Marriage is fine for other people—just not me.”

“Then you'd better stay away from Melissa or you'll answer to Hal
and
me.”

He didn't like being told what to do, or the tone Joe used to say it. Bryan feinted right, left, turned and jumped, making the shot. “Tied again.”

Out of the corner of his eye Bryan noticed some of the local kids had come to play on the court, but now stood with their fingers looped in the chain-link fence.

“Watch your language when you lose,” he taunted, drawing
on a comment he'd overheard when he'd picked Joe up at the B and B. “We have an audience. And I thought things were over between you and Melissa. Ashley doesn't strike me as the type to share. Mess around on her and I'd say you'd be treading water with lead weights around your ankles. I might even help her for old time's sake.”

“They
are
over, and I don't cheat,” he bit out, his voice low.

Bryan grinned. “But you have forgotten that I knew Melissa before you met her.”

“Hanging out on the street corners for three summers doesn't count. What's that matter, anyway?”

He wasn't sure himself. All he knew was that he felt the need to establish a bond with her any way he could since Joe and Melissa had once shared a child. “Shut up and play—or tell me what Max repeated to put you in the doghouse.”

“Nothing his mother wanted to hear.” Joe growled the shamefaced admittance. “The swear jar got a big donation that day. Pick your prize,” he ordered now that they were down to the winning point, “so I can rub it in your face when I win.”

“You fix the leak in my shower. I'll supply the parts.”

“Box seats at the next game.”

“Which one?”

“Whichever.”

Bryan laughed. “You want me to pay the way for you to avoid Ashley's wrath? Not a chance.”

“Make it the next
two
games.” Joe shot him a terse grin. “Labor's expensive. You had too many women in there at once and broke the thing, didn't you?”

“I don't kiss and tell, but you can dream about it since I doubt you'll be indulging in water sports with Ashley anytime soon.”

Joe's expression became grim a split second before he took off. Bryan had a hard time keeping up with him as they scrambled across the court, both of them trying to get and keep the ball. They bumped into each other, shoved, fouled, but kept going, the rules, the rough play, all part of the game.

“Joe?”
Melissa called sharply from somewhere behind them.

Joe immediately paused, and Bryan took advantage. He stole the ball and made his basket with ease, releasing a whoop of triumph. Joe hadn't budged.

Bryan followed Joe's fixed stare and saw Melissa's frantic wave, Ashley sitting silent in the car behind her.

“Joe, it's time!” she called excitedly. “Bryan! Ashley's water broke and she doesn't think she can make it to the hospital! The baby's coming!
Hurry!
”

Bryan's soft laugh echoed off the school building when he took in Joe's dazed expression. Bending, he grabbed the ball before he wrapped his arm around Joe's shoulders and prodded his fear-frozen friend toward the latched gate. “Come on, Daddy-o, let's go. Looks like you'll be in the doghouse at least six more weeks while I'll be getting a new shower.”

“P
ERFECT
, A
SHLEY
.
Come on,
push!
This baby's in a rush.”

Melissa held her breath along with Ashley while her friend bore down and pushed again. She'd driven Ashley to the schoolyard to pick up Joe hoping Joe could drive his wife to the hospital in Baxter, but along the way Ashley had said there wasn't time and she'd been right. Less than ten minutes after arriving at Bryan's office, the baby had crowned.

“She should be in a hospital,” Joe muttered for the fiftieth time. “Ashley needs monitors and medical equipment.”

She was thinking the same thing, remembering. Ashley was three weeks early, not necessarily dangerous but the risk was there.

“People had babies at home before,” Ashley stated through her clenched teeth. “And at least…we're in…a medical practice.” The contraction over, she collapsed into Joe's supportive embrace.

“Ashley's doing fine.” Bryan smiled at them encouragingly, sweat beading on his forehead. “This little one is impatient like its daddy.”

Melissa's heart raced, both from the adrenaline of being involved in something so unexpected and intense and Bryan's expression. Happy, obviously thrilled to be delivering a baby, he looked wonderful.

Ashley gasped sharply, the sound ending on a moan. “Here comes…another one—
oohh.
”

“Wait for it. Breathe. Good, you're doing great, Ashley, breathe through it and let it build. Good! Now deep breath, come on. And push! That's it, push!” Once again Joe supported his wife, his arms around her, lifting her into position. But one glance at Joe's face revealed his bone-numbing fear. Melissa stood to the side, out of the way, stepping forward only when Bryan or Ashley needed something. A cool cloth, a soothing word, a strong hand to grip, or to slip the portable oxygen mask over Ashley's mouth and nose.

Through it all Melissa watched. Her mind replayed Josie's birth and how the nurses and doctors had exchanged silent, worried glances with one another when they couldn't stop the contractions and the monitors beeped crazily.

She'd been alone. No Joe, no friends. No mother or father. No one in the cold, sterile room to keep her company. Young and scared, unprepared for motherhood, much less the fear and pain of what was occurring. Memories assaulted her. None of them good. Images stole her breath until she had to resist the urge to put the oxygen mask over her own face.

Her baby. Oh, how she ached to hold her baby girl, just one more time. It had taken her a long time to feel comfortable around Ashley and Joe, the whole town, after learning her daughter had died of complications from a vaccination and not Shaken Baby Syndrome as they'd all believed. Sometimes she still wasn't comfortable. How could she be? She blamed herself and Joe had spent ten long years in prison, innocent. Convicted with the help of the things she'd said, the things she'd believed. All of them wrong.

“Head's out…shoulder. Slow and perfect. Come on, Ashley, one last push should do it. Good! Joe, looks like you
and Ashley have a beautiful…” Bryan glanced up with a wide grin “—baby girl!”

Melissa inhaled sharply and strangled on a tear-choked gasp, praying no one noticed. The baby cried shrilly, upset at being shoved from its warm, comfortable home into a cold world.

Bryan suctioned her little mouth and nose, laughing softly. “That's not a weak cry. This kid's got a good set of lungs.”

Ashley and Joe watched Bryan's every move, staring in wonderment at the precious miracle they'd created, their expressions a combination of awe and happiness and relief. They hugged and kissed, their laughter tempered with tears, their love for each other obvious.

Bryan laid the squalling baby on Ashley's gowned stomach while he showed Joe where to cut the cord. That done, Bryan waved Melissa closer to take the warmed blanket she'd prepared, and she stared at the red-faced little girl, the ache of her empty arms sharper than ever before.

Bryan awkwardly tried to swaddle the baby, but when he continued to fumble at the task, Melissa nudged him with her shoulder. “Let me do it.”

He hesitated. “Melissa, are you—”

“Let me do it, Bryan.” Her gaze met his and in that moment she didn't care that he saw everything she felt inside. “Let me…please?”

Hands shaking, her heart thumping, Melissa waited for Bryan to move out of the way before she carefully bundled up the baby girl. Her lungs burned from the effort it took to suppress her tears because she remembered swaddling Josie the same way, remembered her honey-sweet smell, the downy texture of her hair and how the baby would stare up at her and blink her beautiful blue eyes. But most of all, she remem
bered the way Josie had fit so perfectly in the cradle of her arms, her skin soft and perfect, her mouth a tiny little bow.

She tucked the edge of the blanket into a fold to hold it in place and lifted the precious baby, relishing the brief contact before she had to transfer the newborn into her mother's outstretched arms. Seeing Ashley's anxious face, Melissa forced a smile. “Ten fingers and toes,” she murmured, but then she made the mistake of looking at Joe and found his eyes bloodshot and bright with tears.

Breathe. Just breathe.

Joe deserved another child, another chance. Deserved to be a father because she'd denied him that honor before. No doubt Joe struggled with the same loss, the same memories of their baby girl. This child wouldn't replace Josie, but she would certainly ease the pain for him. But Melissa would never have that. How could she ever risk bringing a child into this world considering the gene she carried?

“Sounds like the EMTs are getting restless,” Bryan murmured. “Melissa, would you let them in?”

She nodded, grateful for the excuse to leave the room. She was happy for them, she was. But it
hurt
. Oh, Lord, how it hurt.

Why did Josie have to die? What did she do to deserve to lose so much?

Her legs trembled beneath her, but they carried her through the practice to the waiting room where the EMTs paced. Within moments, Ashley and her baby were fastened to a gurney, an anxious Joe at their side.

Once they were gone, the quiet of the medical practice deafened, broken only by the sounds of Bryan washing up in the exam room down the hall. Adrenaline-fueled strength dwindled to shaky weakness and sadness, and she swallowed
repeatedly, leaning against the window and watching while the ambulance pulled away with proud-daddy Joe visible in the back.

The carpeted floorboards creaked before heavy hands settled on her shoulders. “You were wonderful in there. I couldn't have done it without your help, Melissa. Thank you.”

Unable to speak, unable to breathe, she lowered her head and nodded. Then a tear escaped. A ragged sob followed and that was all it took to release an avalanche she couldn't stop. No matter how hard she tried to control herself, to clamp her mouth shut and hold in the cries, she couldn't. They kept coming, ragged, belly deep. All-consuming.

“Ah, honey, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Don't cry. Sweetheart, please—” Bryan turned her around and pulled her against his chest, his lips at her temple murmuring nonsense meant to soothe. The heat of him warmed her, the scent of him comforted.

While she and Joe had helped get Ashley settled in one of the examination rooms, Bryan had gone upstairs and hurriedly showered. Now he smelled of soap and man, and his soft shirt soaked up her tears while he rubbed her neck and shoulders in soothing strokes. Melissa relished the embrace, the tender touch. And while her brain railed at her to pull herself together, another part of her simply begged to curl against him and stay there.

She cried for Josie, for herself. For her own mother, and the grandmother she'd never gotten a chance to meet. Josie was better off where she was, wouldn't have to endure the suffering, the painful surgeries, the chemo treatments. Heaven was better. Josie was better. But
why
didn't it feel that way? Why did it hurt so much?

“Melissa…sweetheart, don't. Honey, you're killing me. Please…stop.”

Head buried in his chest, she smiled weakly at his words, laughed, the sound raw and rough. Imagine that, the infamous Bang 'em Booker upset by a few tears. She'd have thought Bryan would be used to tears since he'd broken so many hearts.

Sniffling, she took a deep breath and, moments later, she wiped her face with shaking fingers and raised her head only to find her gaze caught and held by his. “I'm s-sorry.”

“Don't be. Anytime you need to cry, Booger Boy is here.”

The nickname caught her by surprise and she laughed, glad he didn't push her away, because she wasn't sure she could stand without his support. Time stilled. The large house was silent, dim where they stood leaning against each other in the unlit reception area. Blood pounded in her ears as she watched Bryan's mouth slowly lower. Moving closer and closer until…

Her lips parted the moment his lips brushed hers, his breath warm and musky, tantalizing to her overwrought system. Before she could draw a steadying breath, before her mind could register a protest or give it a voice, Bryan sealed their mouths together. His tongue entered and built a fire that spread through every inch of her body, making her forget all about protesting and professionalism, all about sadness and death.

For a moment, that moment, she forgot the past, the pain. Forgot everything but the feel of Bryan's arms. Who would've thought the boy she'd known could pull such a reaction from her?

The kiss went on, a bit rough, a little out of control, a lot hotter than her most private fantasies. Bryan's hands roamed her back, her waist. Her shoulders. His fingers slid into her short hair to better angle her head. He rubbed, nudged, the heat of him penetrating the material of her dress until she wasn't lonely and cold and sad.

Bryan's teasing fingers skimmed the base of her hips, slowly glided up. The sensation was seductive, dreamlike. A slow drag of fire wherever he stroked, teasing, overwhelming her every sense…until Bryan's fingertips settled over the fastener of her bra.

Cold reality smacked her. A hard, if-he-only-knew-the-truth slug to her stomach that stole her breath. She jerked away from him, and then staggered back two more steps when Bryan reached for her with an expression of pure eagerness.

Something about her hasty retreat made Bryan's eyes clear, and he dropped his hands to his sides with a curse, the sensual fog fading from his expression until it turned to one of slack-jawed horror.

Dear Lord, what had she done? Fingers pressed against her mouth, she tried to quell her trembling, torn between closing the distance between them because she wanted more of the heady pleasure, and running,
screaming,
until she was as far away from Bryan as she could possibly get.

“I'm sorry, Melissa. I didn't mean to do that.”

She flinched. Of course he hadn't meant to kiss her. Swallowing tightly, she turned. “I've got to go.”

Bryan caught her arm but let go when she rounded on him, angry at herself, at him. At the unfair world that had taken everything from her.

He held his hands up in a pleading gesture the total opposite of his normal devil-may-care attitude. “Melissa, hear me out. I did
not
mean for that to happen.”

Could he stop saying that? Did he think she
hadn't
realized that already? A huff escaped her instead of the laugh she intended. Shaking her head, she headed toward the door once more.

“You have every reason to be upset with me, but I promise you, Melissa, it won't happen again!”

He had that right. She needed time to process things. To delve deep and figure out if she could handle working here when it was quite obvious Bryan was used to his advances being welcomed.

Her face burned with embarrassment. He didn't know she hadn't had the reconstructive surgery. He didn't know she was a breastless freak by her own choosing, but it didn't matter.

Melissa shoved the door open and ran outside, noting that, this time, Bryan didn't try to stop her.

 

H
ER DAD HAD JUST LEFT FOR WORK
the next morning when the phone rang. Melissa had deliberately lazed in bed so she wouldn't have to talk to him about Ellen, or risk him taking one look at her and guessing Bryan had lived up to his reputation. Nor could she undergo his questioning her about helping to deliver Joe and Ashley's daughter.

By now everyone in town would be gossiping about her presence in the delivery room. What she'd done, what she'd thought, how she'd reacted to the news Joe had a second baby girl. The stories would grow with every telling, and one glimpse of her would send whispers flying.

Was it her father calling? Had he heard already? The caller ID box was in the other room and she was too tired to go check.

But as much as she wanted to stay in bed buried beneath the covers today, she knew she had to put in an appearance around town. Be seen out and about, a smile in place. It was the only way to stem the rumors.
Fake it till you make it
.

And if she saw Bryan? Why, why,
why
had she kissed him?

The phone stopped ringing, but after a slight pause it began again. As if whoever it was had hung up and called right back.

She rolled over onto her stomach and stretched to pick up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Give me a damage report,” Bryan ordered huskily. “But whatever you do, please tell me you'll show up tomorrow morning.”

The image of him leaning out the window, shirtless and drowsy, smiling down at her, entered her head with frightening clarity. Had that only been yesterday?

“Melissa?”

“I'll…” What choice did she have at this point? “I'll be there. So long as we agree that what happened yesterday will never, ever be repeated or talked about again. To
anyone
.”