A Family Affair: The Wish: Truth in Lies, Book 9 (13 page)

Adam peeked inside, took one. “Pizzelles.” He bit into the pizzelle, smiled. “Anise.”

Pop nodded, eased a pizzelle from the box. “I make vanilla ones, too, but I figured you for the anise type.” He shrugged, pinned Adam with a look that said, “Was I right or was I double right?” and said, “Too many people stick their noses up at strong smells like anise and garlic and provolone. Not me. I say that’s the hallmark of good eating.”

“I love anise, but I’ll never turn down any kind of pizzelle.” He laughed, dug out another pizzelle. “When I was in Rome, I really did think I was in heaven. The pasta, the cheeses—” he paused, brought his fingers to his lips and smacked them with a kiss “—the wine.”

“Rome, huh?”

Mimi didn’t miss the sadness in Pop’s voice. He and Lucinda had talked about taking a grand trip to Italy one day: Rome, Venice, maybe Florence. They’d ride in a gondola, visit the Sistine Chapel, and hear the pope say Mass at the Vatican. But the time had never been right, the money too slim, and before they knew it, Lucinda was on her deathbed with Pop at her side, feeding her bits of pizzelle like a communion wafer. Sad and tragic and so darn uncontrollable.

Adam must have detected the change in Pop’s voice, too, because he nodded and said, “I heard Mass at the Vatican, too.”

“Did you now?” Pop’s expression softened. “My wife and I talked about what it must be like to stand with all those people from all over the world, shoulder to shoulder, joining in the celebration of the Mass. I can’t imagine what that must feel like.”

Pop didn’t need to wonder too long because Adam painted the picture for him, said he had photographs back in Chicago, and if Pop wanted, he’d send him copies when he got back there. Of course, Pop wanted the photos and he was so head-over-heels crazy for information, he missed the chance to ask the boy when exactly he would be returning to Chicago. Mimi fixed them hibiscus tea and listened to them gab about homemade pasta and fresh-baked bread. So much for Pop and his fine-tuned investigative work. Anything the man provided in the way of analyzing and deducing would be distorted with memories of this talk. Had the man ever taken to an outsider so fast? She didn’t think so, but then it must feel good to find someone willing to share an experience you’ve always wanted and know you’ll never have. There was a lot to be said for a person fulfilling an old man’s dream, even if it was by a retelling.

Mimi had pretty much given up trying to figure out the real reason behind Adam Brandon’s appearance in Magdalena when the boy offered a tidbit that was too good to ignore. He and Pop had gotten on the subject of small-town life and how people were family even if they weren’t blood. Mimi had her back to them and was slicing a cucumber for tonight’s salad when the tidbit fell out of Adam’s mouth.

“Bree Kinkaid said the whole town stood behind her when she lost her husband.” Pause, and then the dip in his voice that sounded more like feelings than curiosity. “That must have been really rough on her.”

Oh, yes, indeed those were feelings and if Mimi had her bingo card in front of her, she’d say “Bingo!” The boy had a thing for Bree. Pop was too distracted with thoughts of Italy to notice, but Mimi heard it, deciphered it, too. Loud and decibel-clanging clear.

“Poor Bree. Nice girl.” Pop
tsk-tsked
. “It was a bad time for her, but we all got her through it. Hate to say she’s given up on happily-ever-after, but she’s turned away more than one suitor since her husband died, said it wasn’t in her to care that much again, or trust again. Sad when you can’t find a way to give hope a second chance.”

Mimi reached for a tomato and slipped in her three cents. “Maybe when the right man comes along, she will. Look what happened with Ben and Gina Reed.” Ben had a special place in Mimi’s heart and she couldn’t be happier he’d found a home and a wife in Magdalena.

“True,” Pop said. “It’s all about finding the right mate.” There was a half-second pause before he added, “You got a special someone, Adam?”

Mimi sneaked a peek over her shoulder, caught Pop’s eye. The man might have been distracted by talk of the Vatican and anise pizzelles, but he’d picked up the ball and was running toward the end zone.

“Not exactly.”

There was real hesitation in those words, like the boy wasn’t sure what to say. Was that because he didn’t know the answer or because he knew the answer and didn’t want to share it?

“That don’t sound too convincing. What do you think, Mimi? Does Adam sound like there’s no woman in his life? Because the ‘not exactly’ means you got a bead on somebody and either she’s got the same bead on you or you wish she had.”

Mimi hid a smile, moved toward the table so she could see Adam’s face. Nothing like looking at a person head-on to get a feel for the accuracy of the statement. Hmm. Was that a hint of pink under all that tan? She’d say it was. “I think Adam would like to keep the answer to himself right now, but that doesn’t mean we can’t offer a few suggestions without overstepping.”

“There’s really nothing to say.” Adam looked at Pop, then Mimi, and yes, the pink under the tan had turned to rose. “I’m not…in a relationship right now.”

“Because you don’t want to be or because she don’t want to be?” Pop crossed his bony arms over his chest and slid a gaze from the boy’s haircut to the fancy loafers. “I’m only asking because Bree Kinkaid’s a mighty fine young lady and a few seconds around that girl is like a bee swarming around honey. I’ve seen it happen firsthand and it’s a sight.” Pop let out a laugh that made Mimi join in. “Never seen anything like it in my life.”

No amount of throat clearing and stammered words from Adam Brandon was going to change the truth: something was brewing between him and Bree. The only question was, had it already happened or was it around the corner?

B
ree opened
the door to the Heaven Sent and slipped inside. She’d been in this place enough times to find her way in the dim light from the lamp in the hallway and the sconces at the top of the stairs. She’d removed her shoes to avoid the clickety-clack on the hardwood floor and took care to avoid the creaky floorboard near the entrance to the parlor. It was late and the girls had begged to stay at Grandma and Grandpa’s tonight because tomorrow was teacher in-service day and Grandma promised they’d all head to the Nature Center in Renova to see the animals. If she tried real hard, she could say it was the educational system of Magdalena, New York, that drove her to the Heart Sent because if there hadn’t been a teacher’s day tomorrow, the girls would not have pestered her to stay at Grandma and Grandpa’s and that would not have given Bree free time to drive to the Heart Sent with four double fudge brownies and a bottle of red wine.

But here she was, creeping up the stairs to the third room on the left, because she’d oh so casually asked which room he was staying in. If he thought the question was a strange one, Adam didn’t comment, but those gray eyes had sparked when he looked at her like he was thinking about her being in that room with him. Bree reached the top of the steps and inched down the hallway. When she spotted his room and the slit of light under the door, she knocked and held her breath.
Dear Lord, what am I doing?

That question left her brain the second Adam opened the door, wearing a T-shirt and exercise shorts: tanned, muscled, way too gorgeous.

“Bree?”

She thrust the wine and brownies at him. “I brought you a treat.”

He glanced at his watch, then back at her, his brows pinching together. “At 9:20 at night?”

Was he going to make her spell out why she was really here? Well, she wasn’t about to do it in the hallway. “May I come in?” She shot a glance behind her to make sure Mimi wasn’t standing there and whispered, “I want to talk to you.”

“Uh, sure.” He stepped aside to let her enter and closed the door behind her.

Bree glanced at the bed with the rumpled comforter and pillows propped up on one side, a laptop resting in the center. That was the only bit of untidiness in the room. No shoes thrown about, no clothes tossed over the back of the chair, no scraps of paper on the nightstand. “My, you certainly are neat.”

He set the goodie bag and bottle of wine on the small table next to the chair and said, “What are you really doing here, Bree?”

She shrugged, tried for a smile that refused to cooperate, and ended with a frown. “The kids are with Mama and Daddy tonight.” Why was he looking at her like he thought she was up to no good and trying to drag him into it? She wasn’t trying to drag him into anything he hadn’t led her to believe he wanted to be dragged into. “So, since the kids aren’t home, I had a bit of extra time and I made these brownies…and thought you might like some company.”

“Uh-huh.”

Bree tried for another smile, and this time one slipped through her nervousness. “Would you like a brownie?” She pointed to the bag on the table. “Chocolate and wine are great together. Do you have any glasses? And a corkscrew?”

“Sorry, no. Besides, remember what happened the last time we shared a bottle of wine?”

What exactly did he mean by
that
? No doubt she’d have to ask to find out. Bree sipped in a breath and said, “Are you saying you’re trying to forget it?”

His gaze turned smoky, his voice rough. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“Oh. What then?” It had been much easier to get him thinking about sharing a bed when he didn’t really know her.

That gaze slipped to her lips, her neck, the top of her dress. “I’d say it’s pretty impossible to forget.”

Goodness, that did not sound like disinterest, not one bit. That sounded like
want
—red, hot, sizzling. “Adam.” She moved toward him, stopped when she was less than a touch away. “What if we had a repeat of that night, except we’ll change the part I thought happened that really didn’t.” She paused, inched closer and stroked his cheek. “This time, it really would happen.” She held his gaze, whispered, “What would you think of that?”

He clutched her hand, eased it away, his expression fierce, almost angry. “I don’t like games, Bree. You’re sending too many mixed messages and if you’re just playing with me, I’m not interested. You know I’m attracted to you; I’ve never pretended I’m not. But I can’t figure you out. You want to sleep with me one minute, the next you want to forget you ever met me. So, what is it now? You’re bored and want a little fun? You’re seeing how far you can push? What exactly do you want?”

Bree leaned on tiptoe, kissed him softly on the mouth. “You, Adam Brandon. I want you.”

He cupped her chin between his fingers, burned her with his gaze. “No games, Bree. Just you and me and no dead husband between us.”

“I promise.” The heat in that gaze burned straight to her belly…trailed lower.

“This is your last chance to get out of here.” His voice was strained, the lines around his mouth deep. “If you don’t leave now, you won’t be leaving until I’ve pleasured you so well, you won’t want to leave my bed.” He traced her lips with his finger, dipped it inside, and touched her tongue.

Sparks and bursts of pleasure shot through her. Goodness, but the man could make her burn and she still had all of her clothes on! Bree thrust her arms around his neck, pressed her body against his, and whispered, “Take me to bed. Show me how good it can be with you.”

When he kissed her, she forgot the pain of heartache and loss, forgot that she would never trust another man again, and certainly never let herself love one. No, she thought of none of this as his hands slid down her back to cup her butt and fit her against him. All that existed was need: white-hot, greedy. Intense. And the need was not just for any man but for this man.

After, she could not remember how they got to the bed, but she knew it involved kisses that made it hard to think and touches that made her want more. So much more. Adam Brandon might be cool and calm in his day-to-day business, but in bed he was a blast of dynamite, giving and taking, with his mouth, his tongue, his hands, his…. Oh, yes, there was that part of him that pleasured her so well, she moaned for more, begged for it, actually, and he did not disappoint. Not the first or second time. Definitely not the third. Brody had never been about finesse or seeing to her needs before his, but Adam showed her a whole new level of satisfaction she didn’t know existed.

Bree lay snuggled against his chest, eyes closed, arm flung over his belly. She could stay here forever, or at least another few hours. Yes, she’d like that. Pure deliciousness. Maybe after they slept a while, they could start all over again and this time... Goodness, what was wrong with her? She’d always enjoyed the physical part of a man-woman relationship, had never been shy about it or afraid, but what she’d experienced tonight was way past enjoyment. Her body tingled with remembering the way he’d touched her, moved inside her until she burst like a thousand tiny stars splitting a dark night. What to call that? There was only one word—
ecstasy
.

“Bree? You asleep?” He tightened his hold on her, trailed a hand along her back, settled on her hip.

“I was for a bit.” She placed tiny kisses on his chest, breathed in his scent. Pure male. “You?”

“I was out cold.” He sighed and she didn’t miss the humor in his voice when he said, “You wore me out. I think I need a sick day to recover. How about you play hooky with me?”

She swatted his chest and lifted her head to look at him. “Obviously, you’re out of shape.”

His lips curved into that sexy smile that made her all gooey inside. “Obviously, I need you to get me back in shape.”

“Oh?” She planted feather-light kisses along his jaw, trailed her tongue to the sensitive spot behind his ear, sucked.

“Bree.” He squirmed, tried to get away from her. “Stop.”

She laughed and ignored his half attempt to get her to stop. “Guess you’ll have to make me,” she said, working her way to his shoulder with her tongue and teeth.

“Ahhhh.” He flipped her over, pinned her with his right leg. “Now I’m going to have to punish you.”

Bree flung her arms over her head and said in her sultriest voice, “Punish me. Please.”

His smile slipped as his gaze traveled from her eyes, to her mouth, her neck, breasts, belly, lower still. Adam placed a hand on her belly, slid it toward her sex, cupped her. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured, his earlier teasing gone. “So damn beautiful.”

Words like that wrapped in a voice sweeter than honey could make a girl cry, and Bree was seconds from bursting into tears when he planted a kiss on her belly, then another. When he looked at her, his eyes were bright, and when he spoke, he didn’t try to hide the emotion or the tenderness in his words. “We’re good together, Bree.”

“We are.” She smoothed a lock of hair from his forehead. “Very good.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.” The fierceness in that look turned hotter. “You’ll see.” One more kiss on her belly and then the words that did make her cry. “I promise.”

S
ex with Bree
was not just sex. When they were together, his brain didn’t work right. One touch, one heated look from her and the logic he depended upon for judgment and guidance in life vanished. What was it about her that made him forget the order of his life, made him so damn greedy for her that he turned reckless? Desperate? Those words made him squeamish because they indicated a lack of control and above all, Adam Brandon possessed control
and
common sense. He was a doer, a fixer, a planner; he was not a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants-and-hang-on-tight kind of guy. Never had been. Wasn’t in his nature. And yet, wasn’t that exactly what he was doing with Bree? Of course, she had a way of tempting him with that little smile that reminded him what she’d done with that mouth and those hands. Had he ever been so absorbed in a woman’s hands before? Ridiculous. But when Bree toyed with a lock of hair, twirling it between her fingers, he couldn’t help but fantasize about the next time they’d be together.

It had been four days since they first made love, but they’d found a way to have a repeat performance every day since. No wonder he couldn’t look at her desk without thinking of sex. Or his chair. She’d locked the door, hiked her skirt, and straddled him. It had taken a bit of acrobatics but with Bree’s long legs, it hadn’t been too difficult. What was a guy to do when a woman unzipped his pants and eased her hands inside his boxers? Yeah, he’d done what any guy with a drop of testosterone would do. Not that he’d been happy with himself afterward, but right before and during? Well, that was pure fantasy and he wasn’t letting go of that one.

But he wanted more than crazy-hot sex with Bree. He wanted a relationship, time with her kids, dinner at her house. He was a great cook; he’d offered to fix a meal for her and the girls but she’d turned him down. In fact, she’d turned down a trip to Renova to see a matinee with the girls next Saturday.
Sorry, not a good time
. Same with the offer for dinner at Harry’s Folly, minus kids, on the off chance she didn’t want him getting involved just yet.
Thank you, but my parents are taking us there
. How was a guy supposed to get to know a woman if she kept shutting the door in his face?

The one thing she hadn’t turned down was the sex. In fact, she’d been the aggressor, the one seeking him out, making him reckless.

It had to stop. Or it had to change.

Why did he always fall for women with issues? Why couldn’t he pick a woman who would lap up his words and do anything and absolutely everything he asked? She’d tell him how wonderful he was, never question his judgment or his mood, provide unlimited sex, and all she’d ask for in return were the perks that went along with being linked to a man like him: the trips, the clothes, the spa appointments, the cars. So, why couldn’t he just choose one of them? He knew why, didn’t have to spend a second of brainpower on that one. They were boring. It was the complexity and the challenge of unearthing the woman beneath the fear and distrust that intrigued him. It had been that way with Sara and there’d been one or two before her, but they’d turned out to be way more psychological work and, in the end, hadn’t been a good match.

Bree was different. She was a challenge, but he knew from the first time he met her in Chicago, she’d be worth it. He’d convince her to give them a try, in public, as in a real relationship. Who better to lay out the plan than a lawyer whose specialty was mergers and acquisitions? Adam had brokered deals with people who’d vowed they’d never work together; huge complex, multimillion-dollar deals. It might take a bit of effort and an extra personal touch, but he’d make Bree admit they should be together, and not just in the bedroom. He’d make her see she wanted to be with him. Careful planning and execution were the key, and he knew all about that.

U
p until she
met Brody Kinkaid, Bree had never been the kind of daughter who fibbed to her parents, not even when the fibbing might have kept her out of a punishment and a harsh scolding. She just didn’t have it in her to look at her mama and daddy and heave out a lie. After Brody walked into her life and stole her heart
and
her common sense, Bree changed her definition of a fib, and more importantly, the way she told it. If her parents asked where she was going, she could say the library and that would be correct. An answer like that made them happy and while technically correct, was not exactly accurate. She’d be at the library all right, back corner of the parking lot, inside Brody’s truck, sitting on his lap while he reclined the driver’s seat and she climbed all over that muscle-bound body…and… Bree pushed the memories aside, wishing she could erase them, but past deeds lived with a person forever, and all they could hope for was that future deeds would blur them. She had a bigger problem at the moment and it had to do with Daddy’s intuition, which was usually too dang close to right.

“I see the way he looks at you, Bree, like he wants to gobble you up faster than a cherry pie.”