Magnolia Dawn (9 page)

The places he'd touched still throbbed; her body still tingled with anticipation
of his kiss. How could she feel so alive and still be so cold? she wondered, staring out at the darkness. And how could she have made such a fool of herself?

Tears welled in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks, mingling with the rain. He'd proved how much she wanted him so easily—with no more than the whisper of his breath against her mouth.

She'd whimpered and arched and clung to him.

And he hadn't even kissed her.

A fool. She was such a fool. What would a man like Rush want with her, anyway? A plain and frigid little sparrow? A woman no other man had ever wanted or loved.

It was better this way. Less confusing. Less painful. They would spend the summer repairing Ashland. No more touching and kissing. No more lemonade shared under a fragrant tree, no more fantasies.
Employer and employee. Period.

Even as she made the vow to herself, she wondered if Rush was thinking of her.

Chapter Six

T
rue to his word, Rush didn't touch her again. Nor did he mention the night of the storm or their kiss under Sweethearts' Magnolia. And as the days passed, Anna had to admit that she'd been wrong—ridiculously so.

It wasn't less confusing this way. It wasn't less painful. It was agony. She wanted to touch him, to talk to him. She couldn't stop her mind from imagining them together or remembering what it had been like in his arms.

And she couldn't stop herself from wondering if it would be different with Rush, if he would be the one man able to break through her wall of fear and insecurity and make her respond.

Anna loaded her paint roller, using the opportunity to sneak a peek at Rush. He worked on a ladder adjacent to hers, replacing weather-rotted boards on the gallery ceiling. She was following behind, sanding and painting. As he hammered the boards in place, he set his jaw in a hard, determined line, and his muscles bunched and eased with the movement.

She swallowed and dragged her gaze away. He'd put the ball in her court. All she had to do was approach him. All she had to do was be honest, tell him the truth.

A dozen times over the last couple of days she'd considered doing just that. But each time she imagined herself telling him, imagined the words passing her lips, she'd stopped herself.

Telling him wouldn't change who, or what, she was. It wouldn't make her more responsive or less afraid, wouldn't make her self-confident or attractive.

Truthfully, it wouldn't change a thing.

And she didn't think she could bear for him to look at her with pity in his eyes. Or revulsion. She'd been looked at that way before and it had hurt almost more than she'd been able to stand. And with Rush it would hurt more.

Because she wanted him more.

Rush paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. As if sensing her scrutiny, he looked at her. She flushed and went back to her paint roller, which had dripped all over the ladder and floor below while she'd been gawking at Rush.

Blue sprang from his position sprawled between the two ladders, barking ferociously. Anna looked toward the drive, lifting her hand to block the late-afternoon sun. Her brother and Travis were rounding the side of the house, heading her way.

She muttered an oath. She hadn't even heard them drive up. Just what she wasn't interested in: round one hundred and ten with her brother. Setting the roller back in the tray, she descended the ladder.

“Lowell. Travis.” She inclined her head and forced a smile. “What brings you two out here?”

Her brother smiled thinly. “It always amazes me, Trav, that I need a calling card to visit my own home.”

Anna gritted her teeth. She was hot, tired and on edge; the last thing she wanted to deal with was her brother's petty sarcasm. “It was just a question, Lowell.”

Travis stepped forward and kissed her cheek. “I hope we haven't stopped by at an inopportune time.”

“Of course not.” She drew a fraction away, searching his expression for a clue to what was going on. In his she saw apology and regret, and something else she didn't recognize or know quite where to place.

“Trav?” she whispered, suddenly alarmed. “What's going on?”

Travis touched the tip of her nose with his forefinger. “Lowell just wanted to bring me out for a visit.”

“Yeah,” Lowell said. “Thought I'd show him around the old homestead.” His lips twisted bitterly. “Trav's got a lot of good memories of this place. Certainly more than I do.”

Anna sensed Rush's scrutiny and looked over her shoulder at him. He, too, had descended the ladder, and stared at her brother in open dislike and distrust.

Lowell became aware of Rush at the same moment and looked at him, arching an eyebrow in cool arrogance. “Go back to work, sis. I'll show Travis around.”

After sending Anna another apologetic glance, Travis followed Lowell inside. Anna watched them go, a knot in her stomach the size of a fist. What was her brother up to? What could he be after?

“That's one class-A bastard,” Rush said, coming up to stand behind her. “What's his problem?”

Anna looked over her shoulder at him. “It's complicated.”

“No doubt.” Rush shook his head. “Inexcusable, if you ask me.”

She hadn't asked him, but she appreciated his support. It made her feel not quite so alone. She told him so.

He reached out as if to touch her, then drew his hand away. “You know, Anna, if you don't want them in the house, you don't have to allow them in.”

Anna sighed, the sound defeated even to her own ears. “It isn't just my house, Rush. It's his, too.”

“On paper only.”

“But that's what counts, isn't it?”

Rush moved his gaze over her face, something akin to tenderness in his eyes. Anna called herself an idiot. “I could take him,” he murmured. “In fact, I could take them both. Just say the word.”

The sweetness of his offer rolled through her, warming places frozen by her brother's nastiness. And by her own loneliness and feelings of helplessness. She smiled. “You'd do that for me?”

He met her eyes, his crinkling at the corners. “Oh, yeah. With pleasure.”

She let out a long breath, shifting her gaze to the house, wondering where Travis and Lowell were, what they were doing, if they were touching her things. She clasped her hands in front of her. “Don't think I don't appreciate it, but Lowell would only do something like sue me.”

Rush shrugged and started back to the ladder. “You're the boss.”

“Rush?” He stopped and looked at her, and she smiled. “Thanks.”

He returned her smile. “What for? I enjoy pounding insensitive creeps.”

Anna, too, went back to work. But even though she went through the motions, she couldn't put Lowell and Travis from her mind.

What were they looking at? she wondered for what seemed like the millionth time since they'd disappeared through Ashland's front doors. If Lowell was searching for another heirloom to sell, there weren't any left. Besides, Travis wouldn't stand back and allow Lowell to pull something like that. So, what were they doing?

Anna made a last sweep with the paint roller, then descended the ladder. They'd been in there at least an hour. To look at a house they both knew like the back of their hands? It didn't make any sense.

When they finally emerged, Anna had to fight to hold back a sound of relief. The sun had already begun its last dip in the west, and she and Rush had just finished cleaning up. She straightened and faced the two men as they approached.

Lowell had been drinking. She recognized the signs from years of seeing them in her father—the unnatural glint in his eyes, the swagger to his step, the mean set of his jaw. Had he found her lone bottle of chardonnay? she wondered. Or did he carry a flask these days?

Travis, looking decidedly uneasy, smiled and gave her a quick hug. The smile didn't reach his eyes. “See you soon, Anna. We'll do that dinner.”

“Sure, Trav.” She watched him walk to his car, then turned to her brother. “I don't know what you're looking for, Lowell. But there's nothing left for you to sell.”

“No more hidden music boxes?”

Fury took her breath, and she narrowed her eyes. “That box was a gift from Mama to me. You had no right to sell it.”

“A gift from Mama,” he mimicked. “How sweet.” He took his pack of cigarettes from his pocket and selected one. After lighting it and taking a deep drag, he met her eyes again. “Maybe I should try to sell
Mama's drawings.”

Anna gasped. “Don't you dare.” Clenching her fingers, she took a step toward him. “You touch one of those drawings and I'll—”

Lowell laughed. “Calm down, sis. You've got your feathers all ruffled up. We both know those drawings aren't worth the paper they're drawn on.”

To anyone but her. To her they were priceless. And he knew it.

She lifted her chin. “You have something to say to me, Lowell? If not, I've got things to do.”

“Yeah.” He smiled and drew on the cigarette again. Blowing out a long stream of smoke, he motioned to Rush with a jerk of his head. “Lose the help first.”

Rush took a menacing step toward Lowell, and Anna put a restraining hand on his arm.

“You're sure, Anna?” Rush asked, eyeing Lowell with open disgust. “One punch is all it would take.”

Lowell laughed, and beneath her fingers Anna felt Rush's muscles tense, readying for a fight. “I'll be fine,” she murmured. “Please…could I have a moment alone with my brother?”

As soon as Rush had walked away, Lowell said loud enough for him to hear, “Slumming these days, Annabelle? You must be paying him very well.”

She'd had enough. “Go to hell.” She moved to brush by him and he caught her arm.

He tossed his cigarette into the grass. “I have no intentions of going anywhere just yet, sister dear.”

Anna jerked her arm from his grasp and faced him. “Say your piece and go. I have no use for you anymore, Lowell.”

His lips lifted in a nasty imitation of a smile. “You were wrong a moment ago, sis. There
is
something left to sell.”

A shudder of unease moved over her. She fought letting it show and lifted an eyebrow with feigned cool. “Really?”

“Really.” He laughed. “I'm putting my half of Ashland up for sale.”

For a full ten seconds, Anna
stared at him, too shocked to speak. “You can't mean it,” she finally said, disbelief choking her words.

He laughed again, and the sound crawled over her nerve endings. “But I do mean it. I've offered Travis first crack at it. He's always wanted it, you know.”

Anna fought to even her breathing, fought to regain her sense of equilibrium. It felt as if her whole world had been turned upside down. “But…this is my home.”

“And my only asset.” He narrowed his eyes. “I need the money. And I don't want Ashland.”

Her own brother would do this to her. Her only family.
Pain and betrayal welled inside her until she thought she might double over with it.

She met his eyes, not bothering to hide her feelings. “How could you…hurt me this way? Why do you hate me so much? What did I do to make you hate me?”

His expression softened. “I don't hate you. I hate this place. I hate my life. And I need money to change it.” He reached out a hand and touched her cheek. She felt the way it trembled, and for a fraction of a moment she could believe he was still the little boy she'd loved so much. And who had loved her back.

“I'm asking a ridiculously low amount for it,” he continued. “How else would I sell only half? But together, Anna, together we could get a lot more.”

His words knifed through her, and she jerked away from his touch. He wasn't that little boy anymore, she reminded herself. He was a grown man, one who would stop at nothing to get his way. “How much?” she asked, flexing her fingers. “What did you offer it to Travis for?”

“Twenty-five thousand.”

Twenty-five thousand!
For half of their ancestral home. Their history. A laughable amount.

But more than she had a hope of coming up with.

“I'll buy you out,” she said quickly. “It'll take time, but I could pay you a little every month. I could—”

“I don't want a little every month. I want it all, I
need
it all. Now.” He met her eyes. In his she saw determination, and something wilder, something that bordered on frantic. “I have to have that money,
Anna.”

She caught his hands with her own, pleading. “Think about what you're doing, Lowell. What you're throwing away. Think—”

He jerked free of her grasp. “What do you think I've been doing? I've spent my whole life wondering how I could get away from this place. My whole life wishing…”

He bit back the thought and swung away from her. Crossing to the the gallery's edge, he stared out at the grove of magnolias. “Travis is interested. Very interested. I gave him three days to decide. Then
I place ads.”

First her brother. Now her oldest friend. Pain twisted inside her. How could Travis do this to her? How could he even consider her brother's offer?

Lowell turned to face her. “Let it go, Anna. Get your life back.”

She shook her head. “I refuse to discuss this further.”

“You avoid the future by hanging on to the past. Don't you see, Anna?” He took a step toward her, hand outstretched. “You hang on to this damn house as a way of avoiding life.”

She backed away from him. “Same old story, Lowell. It's always somebody else who has a problem, always someone else who's doing something wrong. Selling Ashland isn't going to change your life. It's not going to make you like yourself more.”

Lowell narrowed his eyes and took another step toward her. “No wonder Robert dumped you,” he taunted. “You have passion for nothing but wood and plaster.”

Anna drew in a sharp, hurt breath. His words were so painfully close to the truth. When Robert had broken their engagement he'd called her cold and unfeeling. He'd called her passionless.

Battling for control, Anna faced her brother. “Robert dumped me when he learned Daddy was dead broke and that I wouldn't be inheriting a tidy sum. He never even loved me. At the time it hurt so bad, I
thought I would die. But why should you believe me? You don't think I have the capacity to feel pain.”

Tears filled her eyes, choked her words. “But I do feel, Lowell. Very deeply.”

“Anna, I—”

“See yourself off the property, Lowell.” Turning, she went to the comfort of Ashland.

* * *

Hours later, Anna tossed aside the bedsheet and pulled herself out of bed. Although it was after midnight, she was no closer to sleep than she had been when she'd turned out the light at ten.

She should have known better than to even have tried to sleep, she thought, pulling a hand through her tousled hair. The wounds her brother had inflicted that afternoon were still too fresh to allow her rest, his threat too new to dismiss to the world of dreams.