A Family Affair: The Wish: Truth in Lies, Book 9 (3 page)

“Adam? So, what do you think?”

“Huh?” He hadn’t been thinking of answers to her questions because there were just too many damn questions. No, he’d let his mind wander off and think about
her
, Bree the beautiful with the broken heart and sad smile. What was the real story behind that broken heart and would she ever give another man a chance to mend it? He told himself he only wondered because of his profession. Lawyers were inquisitive; they asked, probed, hunted, and sought answers. They did not fantasize about strawberry-blond strangers with sad backstories.

“You didn’t hear a word I said.” She stuck out her bottom lip and shook her head. “Men. I don’t think I’ve ever known one to sit through an entire conversation without getting distracted.”

Oh, he could see how they’d get distracted. She placed her elbows on the table, leaned forward, the fabric of her shirt hugging her chest. A definite distraction. From this distance he could make out the gold flecks in her eyes. Mesmerizing. Yes, distraction was inevitable, and couple Bree’s appeal with her soft accent and the gazillion questions she asked that wore a man out, no doubt he
would
get distracted. Adam lifted his wineglass and said, “The answer is yes.”

Her brows pinched together. “Yes?”

He nodded. “Yes, the peaches are definitely juicier, the sun hotter, the air thicker.” He rubbed his jaw, took pleasure in the mix of confusion and awe spreading over that beautiful face. Memorization and attention to detail had benefited and plagued him since he was a boy. Some things should be stamped in a person’s brain, others erased. “Shrimp and grits? That’s a must experience when you’re down south. Rich. Creamy. You won’t forget it.”

“Ohh. Tell me more.”

Bree licked her lips, left a fine sheen on them that made Adam think about tasting that had nothing to do with food. He cleared his throat, shifted his gaze to her eyes, and ignored the jolt in his gut.
She was a stranger with a hundred pounds of baggage. That meant headache and heartache
. “The only similarity between the king crab and blue crab is the word
crab
. King crab is sweet and you can dig out hunks of meat, but picking a blue crab is an art. You could spend an afternoon going after the tiny meat in those shells.” He shrugged and grinned, relieved his gut and his brain had shut down their response to Bree. “Some people call it a hobby, others an obsession. Add a few cold beers and a roll of paper towels and you’ve got yourself a party.”

“Love it!” She clapped her hands and her face lit up. “I’m putting blue crab on my bucket list.”

“And don’t forget the shrimp and grits.” Adam saluted her with his glass. “I’d say it’s bucket-list worthy, so add that to your must-have experiences.”

“I will.” Her smiled faded, her voice drifted. “I definitely will.”

“What’s wrong?” A few seconds ago she’d been bursting with excitement, but the burst disappeared, shifted to gloom.

Bree cleared her throat, blinked hard, and said in a quiet voice, “There’s a whole world out there, filled with food, people, cultures, and I don’t know anything about them. All I know is what I read in books and magazines.” She sniffed, met his gaze. “How sad and pitiful is that?”

Adam wanted to reach across the table and squeeze her hand, tell her he’d show her the world, hand-feed her all the crab she could eat, and walk with her along sands so white she’d need sunglasses. But he didn’t. A woman’s tears had been his undoing more than once, and there was too much he didn’t know about this one. She was a paradox: part temptress, part innocent, her stories blending and dissecting in random patterns of disarray and confusion.
Who was Bree?
What did she really want? Would she tell him and would it be the truth or a variation of what he wanted to hear or what she wanted it to be? “Not having the opportunity isn’t sad or pitiful. It’s
having
the opportunity and not taking it that’s the real pity.”

“I guess.” She shrugged, finished off her wine, and poured another glass. “I never thought of it that way, but then, I always believed I’d have the opportunity to see the world. You know, go on a safari, ride an elephant, sleep under the stars, swim in the ocean, hear the pope say Mass.” A tiny smile slipped out. “I don’t know more than two words of Italian, but I still wanted to hear that Mass. And I wanted to stand in a castle and imagine what it was like all those years ago with knights in armor, and the mist coming up from the moors and fields of heather, and craggy rocks and water so clear you could see your reflection. And the flowers. Oh, yes, I imagined birds of paradise, hibiscus, orchids, lavender, poppies, and roses.” Her voice cracked and the next words tumbled out. “I had such dreams.”

Adam bet the cheater guy had a lot to do with killing those dreams. “Dreams don’t have to die,” he said, wondering how he could utter words he no longer believed. “If you lose your dreams, what do you have left?” He’d asked himself this question too many times and didn’t like the answer. Nothing. Disappointment. Disillusionment. Despair. That’s what you had left. He didn’t want this for other people, especially not a kindhearted woman like Bree. She deserved better; she deserved to believe, especially if she’d been cheated on and tossed aside.

“Dreams don’t have to die,” she repeated. “But what happens when you’re afraid to dream because you don’t want to be hurt again? How do you get past that?”

He had no idea since he’d never been able to do it himself, but he wasn’t going to steal this woman’s hope. She needed hope right now, and he was going to see she got it. Adam held her gaze and said in a voice smothered in conviction, “You don’t give up. Ever.” And then, because she might need the extra push, he added, “And you believe, no matter what.”

Her eyes grew bright, glittered. “No matter what.”

“If you could have a wish, anything in the world, what would it be?” He expected her to say happiness, the love of a committed man, or maybe a do-over where the cheater guy hadn’t betrayed her, but she didn’t ask for any of those.

She bit her lower lip, drew in a breath, and said in a voice that made him lean forward to catch the words, “For one day, I’d like to wake up and not remember the dreams I had or the reason I don’t have them anymore.”

The pain from those words slid across the table, snaked up his arms, wrapped around his neck, pulled tight, tighter still until he coughed and gasped for air. Three more gasps and he pushed it away.

“Adam? Are you okay?”

No, he was not okay. Pain and emotions that left a person thinking about despair and missed opportunities did not settle well with him. He was fine when those emotions had to do with someone else, because he was a fixer and he could fix problems. Just not his. “I’m fine. Sorry.”

“What about you?” she asked. “If you could have one wish, what would it be?”

Now there was a question. Unfortunately, he didn’t have an answer, not a good one. He could tell her anything, lie or truth, and she wouldn’t know the difference, but he didn’t want to do that, so he shrugged and said, “I’m not much into wishing. I’m more of a make-it-happen kind of guy.” The raised brow and tilted head said she wasn’t settling for that. After, he’d always wonder how this woman got him to spill the truth he kept well hidden from everyone, even those closest to him. “If I could have one wish it would be to stop planning every second of my life. Just once, I’d like to live
for
the moment and
in
the moment. Spontaneous. Alive.” He held her gaze. “Free.”

The smile she gave him said she liked his answer. “That’s beautiful.” Her smile spread as her gaze slipped from his eyes to his nose, his chin… “Beautiful,” she murmured.

He cleared his throat and shut down the jolt to his crotch. Now why did Bree have to go and look at him like she wanted to touch him? Damn it, they were having a decent conversation with a little bit of heart and truth thrown in. Why’d she have to go and sex it up and ruin everything? That’s what happened when a guy helped a woman with a sad story who had one too many glasses of wine. She thought he wanted to rescue her, thought he was something other than a guy trying to be decent, like maybe he was a knight and she was the princess. Yup, wine did that every single time. But then again, good manners had gotten him into more than one predicament, usually involving a woman. His sister said it was his boyish charm and blond good looks that attracted women like bees to honey. Yeah, that’s what he wanted to be—a bowl of honey. His brother said Adam was too nice to people, especially women, a habit that sent the wrong message,
especially
to women. But this one had seemed different; this one had acted like she really did just want to share a meal. Hadn’t she warned him she wasn’t going to sleep with him? Was that a ploy because she
was
going to sleep with him?

“Adam?”

Women. He’d never figure them out.

“Adam?”

Her voice pinged his brain, shot from one side to the other. He rubbed his temple, dragged his gaze to hers. “Yes?”

Those full, pink lips spread into a wide smile as she lifted a hand and pointed at the end of the booth where their waiter stood holding two platters. “It’s crab time.”

T
he man was definitely
a looker with a heap of charm, and from the way he talked and the fancy words he slipped in now and again, he was educated, too. A looker with charm and smarts could be dangerous to a girl’s common sense. Good thing Bree had no interest in men, especially not strangers. Why, she didn’t even know Adam’s last name, or anything much about him, not whether he had a brother, sister, dog, ex-wife. Heavens, he could have a
current
wife. She slid a quick gaze to his left hand. No ring. That meant next to nothing. She nibbled on a piece of crab, savored the sweetness of it. Married men didn’t always wear rings, or if they did, they had the habit of slipping them off during the times they didn’t want to be married. Is that what Brody had done? Or had he worn the ring because his marriage and his wife meant so little to him? Oh, if she could have one more conversation with that man, she’d find out a lot, beginning and ending with the tales of his scoundrel cheating. Bree snatched a roll, bit into it. The dang man would probably lie about that, too. Some men were plain deceitful and others weren’t. She glanced across the table at Adam as he lifted a forkful of crab and flounder to his mouth and chewed. How did a person chew to a rhythm? Was he counting the chews? Bree hid a smile and forked her own crab and flounder, plopped it in her mouth. One, two, chew. One, two, chew. One, two, three, chew. One chew. Heavens, no wonder he was so quiet; concentration was the key.

She’d rather talk and forget about eating in rhythm. “Thanks for suggesting this dish. The crab and flounder are delicious.” Bree scooped up a hunk of mashed potatoes with garlic and chives. “Plus, I’ve always been a mashed potato fan. I know people say white is bad for you, but I say you’ve got to have choices and it’s not the what but the how much.” She pointed her fork at him, tilted her head. Adam seemed like a good guy; she bet if he were married,
he’d
wear a ring. Wouldn’t he? Only one way to find out. “Are you married?”

“Married? Me?” He laughed. “No, definitely not.”

Bree blinked, tried to focus on his eyes because eyes always told the truth. That’s what her daddy said. But it was hard to make out Adam’s eyes, maybe because the restaurant had lowered the lights, or maybe because the wine had made her vision
and
her brain a little foggy. She squinted, but no luck. Why did he say definitely not, like it could never be a possibility? Was it because he had been married and now he was divorced? Lots of people who suffered a divorce would rather get a tooth pulled than go through that again. Same for people with cheating spouses: they didn’t want to think about going through the whole forever-and-ever thing again because chances are it wouldn’t be forever. Dang, it might not even be for ten years. She bet Adam was divorced. Yup. She took another sip of wine and let curiosity beat out common sense. “You’re divorced, aren’t you?”

“Divorced?” That question made him laugh
and
shake his head. “No, not divorced.” His expression turned serious and the dimples on either side of his mouth faded. “How about you? Are you divorced, maybe from the cheater guy who caused you so many tears tonight?”

“No!” It was her turn to shake her head and she did it with such force her hair slapped her cheeks. If the cheater had lived, she’d have divorced him so fast he wouldn’t know which way was which. That was the truth, wasn’t it? She would have divorced Brody if he’d lived, right? Thrown him and his cheating behind out the door; to heck with vows of “forever and ever” and “one and only.” Bree had sworn this was exactly what she’d do given the chance, but deep down, she wasn’t one hundred percent sure of it. They’d been together since they were teenagers, shared three girls and a bucket of dreams. They were supposed to travel out west, wade into the Pacific Ocean hand in hand. They were supposed to share their dreams
together
, for as long as they lived, not take a detour and find another one and only. People called her strong, said she would find her own way to a life that made sense, but what about the one she’d lost, the one she’d dreamed about since she was a young girl? What about sharing a love with the other half of your soul and knowing he would never betray you, not if you gained twenty pounds, got sick, or burned the chicken dinner? He would be there forever—
no matter what
.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Adam’s eyes glittered under the soft lights. “I’m sorry.”

She liked his voice, all soft and cozy like the sweater Mama bought her for Christmas. “Thank you.” And the eyes, she liked those, too, even if she couldn’t tell what color they were. And he sure was handsome, not big and brawny like the one she’d been married to, but tall, fit, golden, like a genuine piece of perfection. Yes,
golden
was a good word for the man: the tan, the hair, the smile. He had a brain, too, not like her dead husband who never could understand the difference between a checking balance and an average daily balance. No sense pretending she didn’t like the way this man’s look made her tingle in places she’d forgotten could tingle. It had been so long since she’d thought about a man as a man, his touch, his smile, his ability to make her feel alive again. So what if it wasn’t forever and ever? So what if it was only for now? Only for tonight?
So what?

Goodness gracious, what was wrong with her? Bree Kinkaid thinking about the physical part of a relationship without the relationship? Now that was a first. Well, people did it all the time, shared a night, an “encounter,” and then moved on. Maybe that’s exactly what she needed to feel alive again. Maybe it was time to bury the last memory of her dead husband with another man’s touch. Bree lifted her glass, gulped the rest of her wine. She could do this. Couldn’t she? She worked a smile in place, lowered her voice just so and gave him the look that had been making men follow her since she was a teenager. “I’m not divorced.” Her smile spread. “I’m not married either.”

The dimples on either side of his mouth deepened as he reached for her wine glass, refilled it. “Let’s drink to not being married or divorced.”

Gracious, the way the man was looking at her right now made her insides boil, and that look heated something else up, too. Oh, but she wished she’d paid closer attention to Natalie Servetti’s behavior, then maybe she could pull a trick or two from Natalie’s book of seduction. But there was a fine line between sexy and trashy, and Natalie had crossed the line to own both the sexy
and
trashy titles, even if she was trying to clean up her act. Besides, Brody had always said Bree was sexy enough for ten women, but that obviously was not true. Her lack of skill with various methods of attracting a man by sexual innuendoes, heated glances, and flippant comments left her with only one option.

Drink more wine. She leaned against the back of the padded booth, closed her eyes. One more glass of wine would be perfect. And then she’d begin her seduction...

“Bree? How about we get you back to your hotel?”

Such a delicious voice. All male, so sexy, making her feel all soft and cozy like she wanted to wrap herself up in it. What a fool she was. How could a person wrap herself up in someone’s voice?

“Bree, open your eyes. We’ve got to get you into your coat.”

His breath tickled her ear. When had he moved next to her? Mmm, he smelled good enough to eat. What was that scent? Mint? Nutmeg? Whatever it was, she wanted it. Oh, yes she did. She wanted it
and she wanted him
. Goodness! Her eyes popped open and she stared at Adam’s face. He was even more handsome close up, and his eyes were gray, not just plain gray, but rich, deep, with flecks of gold. They were the kind of eyes that could make a woman forget she was a lady…

“Come on, nice and easy.” Adam helped her into her coat, tied the belt, and tucked her arm in his. “We’ll catch a taxi, okay? Just hold onto me and I’ll get you back to the hotel.”

Holding on proved more difficult than she thought. Her feet did not want to cooperate and once she started moving, so did the rest of the room. “I’m dizzy,” she blurted out.

“Baby steps,” he said, smiling down at her. “No rush. Put your arm around my waist and lean on me.” When she did, he eased an arm around her shoulder and pulled her against his side. “This should help.”

Bree smiled up at him, her insides warm and fluttery. “Thank you.”

The ride to the hotel took fifteen minutes with the first five spent trying to remember the location. Fortunately, Adam was familiar with the area and he was brilliant at deduction. Was he an engineer? Accountant? Mathematician? Boring, boring, and
boring
. Adam was anything but boring. Lawyer? Goodness, no. Lawyers were conniving double-talkers. Hadn’t her family known a few back in the day who tried to steal the company from Daddy? Adam was not conniving or a double-talker. She snuggled against his chest, inhaled his scent. This man was anything but… He wasn’t a salesman even though he liked to talk. And his hands were too smooth to be a machinist or a woodworker. But, he could be an English teacher. High school or college. Yup, anybody who peppered his speech with fancy words had to be a teacher. She liked snuggling against Adam the teacher, liked his strong arm around her shoulder. But now the taxi had stopped and it was time to think about what happened next…like when they got to the room…

“Bree? We’re at the hotel.”

“Huh?” She pretended sleep, blinked her eyes open. “Are we home?”

His voice gentled. “Yes. Now let’s get you inside.”

Maneuvering after midnight with too many glasses of wine sloshing in her brain and a weak seduction plan in place was probably not a great idea. In fact, she bet her friends would have a thing or three to say about it, if she’d bothered to talk with them these last several months instead of ignoring their attempts to see her. Gina would be downright furious and no doubt, she’d blister Bree with statistics and scare tactics on STDs and unwanted pregnancies. Tess would jump in next with the emotional trauma of a one-night stand. Christine would be last and Bree pictured her asking why she felt the need to do this and then Gina would step in with something like,
Once you’ve done it, it can’t be undone.

The elevator dinged open and Adam said, “Seventh floor. After you.”

Once you’ve done it, it can’t be undone
. Bree’s steps slowed. Adam paused, matched her step. When they reached her room she turned to him, clasped his hands, and said, “Thank you for dinner, but especially for rescuing me from myself tonight.”

That gray gaze held her, made her tingle and burn. “You’re welcome.” He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her left cheek. “You’re a very special woman, Bree. Don’t let anybody ever make you feel you aren’t.”

He pulled away, smiled. Was that regret on his face? It sure looked like it. She squinted, tried to see if she could tell, but the wine got in the way.

“Bree?”

“Huh?” She could stare at that face for an hour and not get tired of it.

“Go inside now and close the door.”

And that voice, too…sweet as honey. “I’m going to…” In a minute…or two.

“Do it now, because if you don’t—” his expression changed like someone had pinched him “—I might forget I’m a gentleman and ask to come in.”

His words made her insides sizzle. “So, you want to come in?”

“Any man with a pulse would answer yes to that question.” He took a step back. “Now go.”

Fifteen more seconds…she needed something to remember… “And if I don’t want you to go?”

He sighed, rubbed a hand over his face. “Bree. You don’t even know my last name.”

She zeroed in on his hand, the fingers long and graceful, and let a snippet of truth slip out. “Maybe that’s the way I want it, just this once…” Bree inched her gaze to meet his. “Maybe just this once…” She turned and slid the keycard into the slot, opened the door, and stepped inside. What was left of her senses commanded her to close the door, but the emotion sizzling through her told her not to even think about it. Bree held out a hand, an invitation to her room, and its contents, along with everything inside—including her. He hesitated, cleared his throat twice, took her hand, and stepped into the hotel room.

“One kiss and then I’m leaving.”

That did not sound at all convincing. The thrum beneath his words said he wanted way more than one kiss. She smiled, held up two fingers. “Two.”

Big sigh. “One. I won’t take advantage of a woman who isn’t in full possession of her senses. Besides, you’d hate me in the morning.”

“Says you.”

His lips twitched. “Yes, says me. I imagine you’ll wake up in the morning with a pounding headache and a vague memory of this conversation, so for what it’s worth, I really enjoyed being with you tonight.”

She moved closer, placed her hands on his shoulders. Handsome man. “Me, too.”

“One kiss,” he said, as he lowered his head, whispered, “And then I’m leaving.”

The kiss was gentle, feather-light, a wish-filled dream of what might have been. Bree eased her arms around his neck, sighed against his lips. It had been so long since she’d felt a man’s touch, so long since desire burned through her, greedy, wanting, desperate. The sigh shifted to a low moan as she pressed her body against his. If they could only share one kiss, let it be one they would remember for years to come. Bree dipped her tongue between his lips, tasted, sucked. Another moan, louder, more desperate. But this one hadn’t come from her. Adam! He moaned again and devoured her mouth, his hands sliding down her back to her waist to cup her butt. She squirmed, fitted herself against his hardness as need pulsed through her, shot from her head to her belly, lower still.

“Bree.” Adam broke the kiss, dragged his lips along her jaw line, traced the sensitive spot behind her ear with his tongue. “One kiss is never going to be enough.”

“Ten won’t be enough,” she murmured. The man could create such sensations in her body, like a musician tuning his instrument. Bree threw back her head and let waves of pleasure roll over her. Adam had tried to play the gentleman, tried to tell her she’d regret letting him into her hotel room, and maybe she would. But tonight she wanted him to stay, wanted to feel his touch, know he desired her as much as she desired him. Yes, maybe she should send him away, but she wasn’t going to…not tonight. “Make love to me,” she whispered.