This Thing Called Love (8 page)

The table was clear. Brad replaced his cap on his head. “Well, I’ve got to be going.”

Panic welled up fresh inside her. Not that Brad was especially comforting but the thought of being left alone with Annabelle suddenly terrified the living daylights out of her. “Wait,” she called after him. “How did you know so much about everything? It must’ve involved more than babysitting.”

“Tom and Alex read every baby book known to man before they had their first kid. When I babysat, I guess I got bored and read a couple of them.”

“Oh.” The hottest bachelor in Mirror Lake babysat and read parenting how-to books. Who’d have figured?

Awkward silence descended. For once Olivia couldn’t think of a barb to jab him with, or a quip to get his goat.

“See you around,” Brad said cordially—too nicely. She wished they were joking lightly like before. She would rile him up enough, and he would zing her back with some smartass remark. But the mood had shifted. Without another word, he turned and walked his fine backside up the aisle and out the rec center door.

As Olivia slung the bag over her shoulder and made her own way out, she realized coming to baby class hadn’t helped at all. It only underscored how much she still had to learn.

CHAPTER 8

Erika Peters lightly scraped a path down Brad’s arm with her long purple-painted nails. “I’ve really been looking forward to our date.” Her exotic scent wafted across the lakeside table at his restaurant, mixing with the spectacular entrees in front of them in a slightly unpleasant way that made Brad’s normally stone-cast stomach lurch a little.

Perfume mixed with seared sea scallops was just off.

Olivia always smelled simpler. Like baby lotion and lemons. Tonight she’d worn a plain gray sweater and her hair had been done up in a messy bun, but she somehow managed to look sexy as hell. Erika, on the other hand, was Cosmo caliber in every way: shiny black hair in a smooth twist, smoky eyes, glossy lips. And the deep plunge of her clingy gown indicated the light was green for a night of hot sex.
Lots
of it.

The new expansion to the restaurant looked spectacular, even though it was still roped off. The deck was lit by twinkly white lights strung in bushes and potted plants and crisscrossed between wooden posts. Outdoor heaters chased away the slight chill and a fire burned in the new outdoor fireplace. Couples gathered round, watching a big crimson sun set quietly over the water. In the distance, jumping fish gave an occasional splash, and the scent of lilacs from the town square wafted in on a light breeze.

Just a few days ago, Brad would have considered himself damn lucky to sit across the table from such a gorgeous woman on a perfect evening like this. They’d been flirting for weeks, and tonight was the night to make things happen.

But things weren’t perfect. All he could think of was that damn baby class. Olivia had listened so carefully, even took notes. She’d been visibly upset and a bit overwhelmed.

Every instinct had compelled him to pull her into his arms and comfort her. But instead he’d fed her some malarkey about not being so independent, asking for help, doing what was best for Annabelle.

That was his intention, right? To dissuade her. Get her to think of alternatives. Capitalize on her vulnerabilities. He certainly hadn’t gone to class for her. Had he?

No. Of course he hadn’t.

Yet the thought of her going through everything alone, after all that had happened, made his stomach lurch. Every parent had a learning curve. Hers was just steep and fast and frightening, like the giant slide at the water park.

And he’d given her a shove down when she was already anxious.

He hadn’t even had to be mean. He could have pointed out that she’d had a poor role model as a mother. Or that Trish and Kevin hadn’t really thought this whole cockamamie plan out. But she’d done the self-flagellating all by herself.

And he’d stood by and watched it happen. Like the total donkey’s behind that he was.

He could see how hard she was trying, with no one nearby to encourage her. She was truly on her own. He could have rectified that, but he’d chosen to stay silent.

For the first time, Brad acknowledged with a sickening sense of fear that getting close to Olivia would only ignite those unstable feelings that bubbled below the surface in every conversation, every argument, waiting for some small catalyst to combust into an unstoppable, volatile explosion.

“I know how busy you’ve been with renovations, but I’m so glad we took time to meet tonight,” Erika said. “And I’ve got great news. Marc Daniels is coming to judge Bachelors Who Cook
,
and he wants to film an episode of his cooking show right here in Mirror Lake. At your restaurant. Isn’t that exciting?”

Brad jerked his head up. “Marc Daniels, the celebrity chef?” Who hosted a cooking show on Food Network, and owned several five-star restaurants in New York City. He would be a huge boon for their event, which in turn would be great for the hospital and great for his restaurant. The B and Bs, the lakefront, and the downtown would be packed.

Erika pressed her white teeth into her lower lip and smiled. “Yep. Mirror Lake is going to be on national television, and the crowds he attracts will be huge.”

She reached across the table and grasped Brad’s hands. As she leaned over, he caught an excellent view of her ample cleavage. The tiny candle in the center of the table flickered off her high-cheekboned face, drawing attention to a provocative little mole at the side of her mouth.

Traditionally, this was the time he’d go in for the kill. Stroke her lovely fingers, use a playful tug to pull her in closer, then whisper something sexy in her ear. But he wasn’t feeling it.

Thrown off his game, Brad glanced away. A moving figure at the edge of his vision caught his eye—his sister-in-law Alex, sitting down at a table about twenty feet away, near the edge of the water. With Olivia.

Olivia?

She pulled out a chair. An uncomfortable feeling settled in Brad’s stomach, and he fought a sudden urge to run over to their table and welcome them. It shocked him to realize he wanted Olivia’s first time at his restaurant to be with him, not Alex. He wanted to show her everything he’d done to it since it was little more than a greasy-spoon fried seafood chain.

“Brad? Are you all right?” Erika swept a lock of long dark hair behind her ear. She licked her bold red lips. “You seem . . . distracted.”

Brad tore his gaze off Olivia and forced himself into small talk with Erika, who smiled her megawatt smile that thrilled thousands of viewers nightly on Channel Five, but nothing happened—no tingling, no fireworks. He must be more tired than he thought.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Olivia order off the menu. One of the newest waiters took her order. Would he know to tell her a fresh shipment of crawfish had just arrived from the Gulf today and his chef’s gumbo was to die for?

He had to stop this. There was nothing he could offer her beyond some really hot sex. Their attraction would go nowhere. She was headed back to New York soon and there was no way he was going to allow her to take his heart with her—again.

But dammit, he wanted her. This was all due to the lack of sex. And his best opportunity to get some was sitting inches away.

He turned back to Erika. She waited in a posture of anticipation, eager for him to say the word.
One tiny word
was all it would take to trade in his frustrations for a night of pure, raw pleasure.

He stared at her beautiful face. Opened his mouth.

“I’ll be right back.” The wrong words tumbled out, but for him they were exactly right. Brad scraped back his chair and walked over to Olivia’s table, patted the waiter on his back and stepped up in his place. He had a million things to tell her, but all that came out was, “Try the gumbo. It’s Phillipe’s new recipe and it will knock your socks off. The angel hair shrimp is also fabulous if you like pasta.”

Olivia greeted him politely but her eyes told him she was wary. Upset.

“We just came for a quick bite,” Alex explained. “Annabelle fell asleep and Tom offered to watch her for an hour.”

Brad nodded but couldn’t capture Olivia’s gaze. “I’m glad you ladies came. Enjoy your dinner.”

He ran back to his own table. “Ready for dessert?” he asked.

Erika tossed him a scorching glance. “I thought we could have dessert at my place, if you know what I mean.”

Brad managed a half smile. The woman was offering herself up on a platter.

Erika smiled sympathetically. Her shiny purple nails tapped the glass of the table. “I can tell you have a lot on your mind, but I want you to know I’m here to help. There’s been a vibe between us for weeks now. I’m not shy about admitting it.” She reached over and covered his hand with hers.

Dammit.
It was now or never. Brad looked over Erika’s shoulder. Olivia was chatting away with Alex, too far away to hear anything. Why did it matter if she did?

He was so hosed. He didn’t know why, but it
did
matter.
She
mattered.

For Annabelle’s sake. For her future.
That was all.

Brad gathered up Erika’s pretty hands. “You’re right. About my being distracted. A lot has happened these few weeks and I . . . I need some time. That’s not to say you aren’t an amazing, incredible woman.”

Erika pulled away. Her laugh was soft and sultry like the rest of her. “When men start using words like
amazing
and
incredible
, you know there’s trouble. I know you’ve been through a lot. I just wanted to . . . offer you comfort.”

“I appreciate it. But I’ve got to say no.”

He finally managed a glance at Olivia’s table.

Empty.

But they hadn’t gotten past salad. Had something happened, maybe to Annabelle?

He excused himself from his ruined date and punched a number into his cell. “What happened?” he asked Alex.

“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.