A Family Affair: The Wish: Truth in Lies, Book 9 (10 page)

BOOK: A Family Affair: The Wish: Truth in Lies, Book 9
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“It’s gonna take a lot of work.”

“Nothing worthwhile is easy. I’ll bet Greta thought that about you a time or two.”

Harry laughed. “I’ll bet she still thinks that.”

That made Pop smile. “I’ll bet she does, saint that she is.”

“So, about this Jax guy…”

“I know what you’re wondering. Is he Teresina’s father?” Pop plowed on before Harry could give him an answer. “I asked Lucy the same question and she looked at me like I’d asked if I should dye my hair green. Not sure if the puny look was because she couldn’t imagine Jax being a father or if she wants to forget who
is
the father. No sense trying to get an answer on that one because Lucy’s just like her grandma—stubborn.”

Now Pop was losing him. “You don’t think Jax is the father.”

Pop shook his head. “I do not. However, I am a mite curious as to what part he plays in Lucy’s life, past, present, and future.”

“I agree. Surprised I haven’t seen him around. He’s not staying at your place, is he?”

“Lord no.” Pop made a face that looked like he’d eaten half a rotten egg. “He’s staying at the Heart Sent. How’s a kid with ripped jeans and a beat-up leather jacket afford a place like that?”

“No idea.” Hmm. So, Jax was staying at Mimi Pendergrass’s place. Harry might have to take a stroll there and say hello to Mimi, and while he was there, he’d see if her new guest was in so he could show him Magdalena hospitality. This Jax and Lucy situation wasn’t good for Pop’s health or Jeremy’s heart, and Harry vowed to help them. That’s what friends did, right? Helped each other?

“Lucy said he’s taking off today, something about his band and Indiana, but he’ll be back.” Pop shook his head, made the sign of the cross. “He told her he wouldn’t mind if Magdalena was home base, and I know what that means.”

“Yeah.” Harry lifted his coffee cup, saluted his friend. “It means we have to make sure the next time that kid sets foot in our town is the last time.”

B
y the time
Bree got to the office, Adam was already at his desk, papers spread out in front of him, looking pressed and fresh, like he’d walked out of a magazine shoot. The reading glasses were a nice touch, gave him the executive look that said, “I’m great-looking and smart, too.” As if a person couldn’t tell after five sentences with the man. Oh, he was a smart one, all right, the exact opposite of her dead ex-husband who’d been a little on the short side in the brains department. Was it horrible to admit what she’d spent years covering up from everyone, even herself? Brody was a dumb-dumb. Curse the man. He’d made his bed and it had landed him in St. Gertrude’s Cemetery decomposing like an old tree. Bree pushed this thought aside and made her way to Adam’s desk, carrying a cardboard container with two coffees and a bag of goodies from Barbara’s Boutique and Bakery. She plopped the bag on his desk and placed a coffee, black, one sugar substitute, next to it. “I brought you something.”

He removed his glasses and leaned back in his chair. “Let me guess. Homemade brownies. Bet you got up at 5:00 a.m. to make them because you guessed they’re my favorite.”

The smile pulled the dimples from his cheeks. Lord, but the man was handsome. She smiled back, opened the bag, and removed an oversized square of double fudge brownie sprinkled with powdered sugar. “You look like a chocolate man.” Bree placed the brownie on a napkin and nudged it toward him. “I can personally vouch for Barbara’s brownies. De-lic-ious.”

“Barbara, huh?” He worked his lips into a frown. “And here I thought you made them.”

She sat in the chair across from his desk, pulled another brownie from the bag, bit into it. “Mmm.” Since Lucy Benito had taken over the bakery with the help of Ramona Casherdon, everything tasted better. The sugar cookies still weren’t up to par with Elise’s, but they were getting there. “Actually, Barbara doesn’t work there anymore. She just runs the place—I think until Lucy can get enough money together to put in an offer, or maybe she’s already done that. I don’t really know.” She’d spent too many months in her own world and too little time in anyone else’s.

“Who’s Lucy?”

“Lucy Benito. She’s Pop Benito’s granddaughter.” Pause. “Oh, I guess you don’t know any of these people, do you?”

He shook his head. “Other than your family, Mimi Pendergrass is the only person I’ve met.”

“Well. We’ll have to change that.” She took another bite of brownie, chewed. Was there ever anything so tantalizing as a double fudge brownie? Maybe the strawberry ’n’ cream cupcakes she’d developed an addiction to, and Elise’s sugar cookies…and then there were the cream puffs…

“Bree?”

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry about last night. When your father asked me to dinner, I didn’t know how to get out of it and I didn’t have a way to warn you.”

When he looked at her with those big, gray eyes and spoke in that soft, sexy voice, what was a girl to say to that? “Thank you. Daddy can be very persuasive. Trust me, I’ve been on the other end of that invitation before.” She eyed him, asked the question she’d been wondering since last evening. “Why’d you jump in when he started lambasting me about my dead husband?”

“I didn’t like seeing you cornered like that.” Those gray eyes narrowed, shifted to silver. “Nobody should have to pay for another person’s bad choices, even if they were married to the guy. I meant what I said, you can’t make people do anything they don’t want to, no matter how bad you want it.”

She didn’t miss the rawness in his voice, like he was thinking about something else or maybe
someone else
, and he’d been the one who suffered. Was it a woman? No way could she ask him now, not when he had that look on his face, like the pain would start spurting from his pores any second. Bree cleared her throat, eased the coffee toward him, and said, “Peace offering?”

“For what?”

“I’ve been thinking about this consulting baloney and I’m not happy about it. Not one bit, so I won’t pretend I am. I’m madder than a hornet that my own father strung me along and didn’t tell me he’d hired a consultant, but I can’t really blame you for it, now can I? I mean, how could you have known you were coming here when we met? You didn’t know me, didn’t know anything about me.” She paused, rewound the last few seconds. “Did you?”

“Of course not. I don’t combine business with—” he blushed an attractive persimmon and cleared his throat “—personal interests.” The blush grew darker, turned maroon. “I wasn’t happy when I found out you were Rex’s daughter.” Pure misery and discomfort coated his face, like he’d stepped on a bee and gotten stung. “But the only up side was knowing how to find you.” His gaze made her insides toasty, but his next words scorched them. “I would have found you eventually, even if I had to scour through every trade show list that was in town when you were. Plus, I knew you lived flying distance away, though the accent threw me.”

“What accent?” She laughed and lifted a shoulder. “I wanted to move to Georgia after I saw
Gone with the Wind
, but when Mama and Daddy refused, I figured I’d bring Georgia here.” Oh, he liked that one. His laughter spilled over her, wrapped her up, and hugged her so tight she grew dizzy. Bree gripped the edges of the desk to steady herself. The man knew how to cast a spell, and if she weren’t extra careful, she’d be under it. Question was, would she be a willing victim, or not?

“So, now that you’re not mad at me anymore, can I take you to dinner?”

Bree fanned herself, tried to force the heat from that blasted gaze down a few degrees. “I don’t know. I suppose we could arrive at some sort of deal. Let’s see.” She sat back in the chair, crossed one leg over the other, and considered his invitation. Of course, she knew what she wanted, had known what she wanted before she walked into the office this morning. It was one of the reasons she stopped at the bakery. Daddy wanted a consultant to look at the business and recommend improvements, and Adam Brandon was the man who’d been chosen to do that. What if he showed her
exactly
what needed improving and taught
her
how to do it? No ignoring the man’s intelligence, and if she could show her father that she knew how to adapt and make improvements, even understood the process and particulars involved in carrying the company forward, maybe he’d finally put his faith in her. Maybe he’d make her president.

And Adam Brandon would help.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that she and her father’s consultant had incredible, sizzling chemistry. That did not hurt at all. Maybe they’d share some of that chemistry one day soon the way they’d done in Chicago, and maybe this time she’d remember every single detail. Why not? Sharing chemistry with someone she enjoyed being around did not make her one of
those
women. Her insides fluttered when she thought of the way he’d touched her, and when she remembered the kisses along her leg…

“Bree?”

She jerked her head up, stared at him. “Hmm?”

“You were a hundred miles away. Daydreaming?”

Daydreaming. Yes, and fantasizing. About you!
Bree snatched her coffee and stood, fixed her gaze on his chin. A strong chin, a kissable chin…how was she going to convince him to help her see what needed fixing if she couldn’t be near him without her hormones going crazy? She’d better find a way…and fast. But how?

By lunchtime, Bree had a half-baked plan and a vision that included advice from Natalie Servetti. Fortunately, the one woman who could give her seduction “how-to’s” and not judge her was available for a 12:15 pedicure appointment. By the time Bree reached the salon, she was in a tizzy. The morning had flown by but not in a good way unless a person considered counting the breaths of the other person in the room as though they were her own a good thing. Bree did not consider this acceptable, had no idea why Adam Brandon had taken on a sudden magnetism that was so much more than chemistry. It was downright explosive, like dynamite, and it scared her. What was wrong? Why had her breath gone all fluttery and her pulse tap-danced in her ears when Adam leaned his strong hands on her desk to study a spreadsheet. And the flushing—beet red, blood red, hot red—what was
that
about?

Natalie would know and she would also know what to do about it.

“Bree?” Natalie smiled and waved her back. “Changed your mind about a pedicure, huh?”

“Yes, I sure did.” Bree followed the woman, tried to decide on a way to broach the other reason she’d come today. When she’d had her manicure, she’d insisted pedicures took too much time and she wouldn’t be indulging in one. But now here she was. Natalie would think her a ninny until she learned the whole truth.

“You’ll enjoy it, trust me.” She motioned for Bree to sit in the cushy leather chair with the running basin of water. “There’s nothing like it. Pure pleasure.” Natalie removed Bree’s shoes, sat on the stool next to her. “Thanks for coming back, Bree. I really appreciate it.”

Bree bit her bottom lip, nodded. Natalie really thought it was about the pedicure, and Bree hated to tell her otherwise, but she needed help, the kind this woman could give her. “I didn’t just come for the pedicure,” she whispered. “I need your advice.”

“Advice?” Natalie’s dark eyes grew wide, her brows pulled together, and the lips that had done a whole lot more than kiss a few men flattened. “About what?”

In her whole life, Bree never thought she’d feel sorry for Natalie Servetti, but she did. There was real pain on the woman’s face and sick-in-your-gut dread. “I’m sorry; forget I asked.”

“What is it, Bree?”

How did a person bleach the feeling from their voice like that? Did it happen from years of practice, or from learning not to care? Either way, it was a sad state and Natalie did not deserve to be subjected to reminders of a past she clearly wanted to forget. “Never mind. Truly.” Bree worked up a smile, patted Natalie’s hand, and said, “How about that pedicure?”

Natalie didn’t push her for more but went about with the soaking, drying, massaging, clipping, and pampering, first one foot and then the other. She sure knew how to work that pumice stone, and how on earth did she get at those cuticles? Bree had never been good at any of it. Everyone had a special skill, and she guessed Natalie’s was primping and pampering. Maybe that’s why she always looked model-beautiful and smelled like a walking flower garden. Bree touched a lock of hair, wondered how she could make hers as shiny as Natalie’s. The woman might have toned down the makeup and the check-out-my-boobs-and-butt routine, but she still oozed sex and sultry, and Bree wanted a tiny bit of that. “Can you fix my hair?” she blurted out before common sense stopped her. “Give it a trim and make it shine like yours?” She leaned forward, whispered, “And how do you get your eyeliner to look so natural? I can’t make a straight line for anything. Can you show me?”

Natalie’s blush matched her shirt. “I don’t think you want advice from me. Besides, you’re beautiful, Bree, just the way you are.”

Bree shook her head. That was not what she wanted to hear, and now that she’d said the words, she intended to get it all out. “But that’s just it. I don’t want to be just the way I am. I want to be something else, or maybe I want to be
someone
else.” Her voice drifted as she considered what she’d said. Did she really want to be someone else? Someone who didn’t need a white-picket-fence relationship to be happy? Didn’t need love and marriage to have sex with a man?
Yes
, her private parts shouted.
Yes!
But her brain and her dang conscience shouted louder,
No!
And then,
Do not do it!

“We all want to be someone else at one time or another.” Natalie kept her gaze on Bree’s left foot as she tended to it. “But the truth is, we can’t be. We are who we are, and all we can do is work to be a better version of us, not someone else.” When her hands stilled, she looked at Bree, eyes bright. “I’d give anything to be you, a strong woman in charge of a whole company, and three beautiful girls, plus parents who really care about you.” Pause, a dip of her voice, and a whispered, “Who love you for you, not for what you look like or can give them. Don’t ever change, Bree.”

Who would have thought in a thousand years that Natalie would envy
her
, Bree Kinkaid, mother, widow of a loser-cheating husband, daughter of two overprotective, advice-giving parents, former Miss Everything, current Mrs. Nothing? Bree darted a glance at the stylists several feet away, lowered her voice, and said, “I don’t want to go on like I’ve been, all sad and lonely, burying myself in work and the girls. It’s not healthy and I know it.”

BOOK: A Family Affair: The Wish: Truth in Lies, Book 9
4.92Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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