A Passion Denied (14 page)

Collin burned him with a look. “
Our
bed, Brady, not hers. And I didn’t do anything but try to make love to the woman.”

Brady squinted. “That’s it? And she let you go to bed angry? On the couch?”

“Yeah, she did.” Collin’s boot pushed at a lone sheet of paper and sent it sailing to the floor. “Feels like I slept on this blasted desk. First glimmer of dawn, I hightailed it out of there while she snoozed away like a princess in a warm, cozy bed.” He poked a finger hard against his chest. “My bed! She even had the nerve to accuse me of competing with Mitch. Blast it all, Brady, it’s been over two years and there’s still no sign of a baby! I know that if I could just get her to slow down and quit her job—”

“Wait, you didn’t tell her that, did you?”

Collin shifted in the chair. Muscles tightened in his jaw. “Yeah, I did, so what?”

“Come on, Collin, you know how much Faith loves her job. Why would you do that? You don’t remember all the fights you had when you were engaged?”

“Yeah, I remember, and I’ve laid low for a long time now. But I want a son, Brady, and nothing’s happening. And apparently if I leave it up to her, it never will.”

“How ’bout leaving it up to God?”

Collin’s eyes narrowed. “I’m just doing my part, like she should be doing hers. But all she does is act like I’m some wanton letch with one thing on my mind.”

Brady smiled. “Well, aren’t you?”

Collin scowled. “No! I just want a family—like Patrick and Marcy. Is that so awful?”

“No, but you’ve got time for that. You’re only twenty-seven, and Faith’s only twenty-four. It’ll happen, Collin. Just pray about it, trust God, and love your wife.”

Collin sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, well, for your information, I have been praying about it and I do trust God. But I have to tell ya, she’s made the last one pretty tough.” He looked up, hurt. “Do you know that she actually called me a ‘drooling baboon’?”

Brady grinned. “She always has been a stickler for the truth.”

“It’s not just that, Brady, it’s the fact that she doesn’t seem to want me as much I want her.” Collin folded his arms and frowned, a bit chastened. “It kind of hurts the ol’ ego, you know? I’ve never had a problem like this in the past. Before I married Faith, women couldn’t seem to keep their hands off me.”

“Yeah, well, Faith is your wife, not a woman hoping to win you with favors. Besides, she may have a point. You’re obsessed with having a family, and maybe even a bit jealous of Mitch. Add that to a man who’s always had a pretty overactive drive, and I think you may be out of balance. Give her some space. Love her without the agenda.”

“Yeah, I’ll give her space, all right. Plenty of space. Enough to cut down on my drooling, anyway.” He flashed an evil grin. “And maybe step up hers.”

Brady cocked a brow. “Games, Collin? Sounds like you’re nursing a grudge.”

Collin’s laugh was wicked as he jumped up to get coffee. “Speaking of ‘games’ and ‘grudges,’ ol’ buddy, what the devil happened to you the other night? Why’d you take off?”

The tables were suddenly turned, and Brady didn’t like it one bit. He steeled his jaw and followed Collin to the back. Reaching for his work apron, he tied it with a hard jerk, then headed for the press.

Collin’s hand gripped his shoulder. “Oh no you don’t, John, you’re not going to disappear under that machine, at least not yet. I just spilled my guts, and now it’s your turn. Here’s your coffee, ol’ buddy, park it awhile.” Collin set Brady’s cup on the table and pulled out a chair. He grabbed another and straddled it. The set of his mouth was a clear indication he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Brady heaved a weary sigh and sat. He fisted the hot cup and gulped it, ignoring the burning sensation searing his throat.

Collin gritted his teeth. “Oooow! Doesn’t that burn?”

Brady nodded and closed his eyes. The beginning of a headache pulsed in his brain. He reached up to massage his forehead. When he opened his eyes again, Collin looked worried.

“What happened, John? I’m guessing the plan backfired?”

“The plan?”

“To get you and Lizzie together. Charity cooked it up . . .
and
my saintly wife.”

Brady took a deep breath and exhaled. “I should have known. That’s not like Beth.”

“Maybe it is. That girl is crazy in love with you. She’d do anything to turn your head.”

“So I’ve learned.” Brady took another hefty swig of coffee. This time he barely noticed the burn. “She kissed me.”

A smile tugged at Collin’s lips. “No kidding? Our Lizzie?”

Brady stared him down. “It can’t happen, Collin. I refuse to get involved with her.”

“You’re already ‘involved’ with her. Didn’t you like it?”

“Yeah, I liked it. Lost a whole night of sleep because I liked it. If it wasn’t the attraction driving me crazy, it was the guilt. I can’t handle it.”

“Guilt? Over what?”

Brady leaned in, his eyes burning more than the coffee. “For thinking of her that way, for going too far in my mind, for the sick feeling I get. I know she’s not my sister, Collin, but I can’t help it—I feel . . . ashamed. I can’t afford to hurt her, and I can’t afford to hurt God.” He looked up, feeling like a man on the edge. “And I will, Collin, I will . . . if it continues. I know my own failings.”

Collin blinked and his mouth slacked open. “So that’s why you don’t go near women? You’re afraid? Of the thoughts? That you won’t stop?”

Brady sagged into the chair and looked away. “I have a troubled past. I don’t react like a normal man. If I were to give in to Beth, or any other woman, it . . . it would control me, take me down.” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “Like it did before, a long, long time ago. I won’t go there again, Collin, not even for Beth.”

“John, God has delivered you from your past. He wants you to be happy—in every way. Marriage can do that. Marriage to Lizzie.”

“No! I told you before, it’s wrong.”

Collin paused, then shifted in his seat, his voice slow and measured. “There’s nothing wrong about it, Brady . . . except in your own mind. What happened to you, anyway? Way back when? Something’s got a hold of you, my friend, and it scares me.”

“God help me, it scares
me
! So much I can’t even think about Beth that way without shame.”

Collin placed a hand on Brady’s arm. “John, talk to me. Tell me what happened. We can pray about it.”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t want to talk about it—ever. Just pray for me, please, that God gives me the grace to get through this.”

Collin stared for a long moment, then released a quiet breath. “All right, John, I’ll pray—that you can face your past and give it to God. It’s the only way you can be happy.”

With a weary nod, Brady looked up. “I have to avoid her. Will you help me?”

Collin looked down at his hands and sighed. “Sure. What do you want me to do?”

“Will you give this to her?” He retrieved a letter from his coat pocket and laid it on the table.

“A letter’s not going to keep her away, you know.”

“I know, but if I’m never here when she comes around, it might.”

Collin picked the letter up and jostled it in his hand. “What if she comes at lunchtime, like usual?”

“Then I won’t be here—you will. From now on, I’ll take the noon deliveries.”

Collin peered up beneath slitted eyes. “You got it all worked out, don’t you? But are you so sure you’re doing the right thing?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He moved to the press and sank to the floor, disappearing on the dolly beneath. He stared at the underbelly of the press and closed his eyes, seeing only Beth’s face.
The
right thing. For Beth . . . and for me.

“Soooo . . . give me all the details! I’m dying to know. How was it?” Millie pounced on Lizzie like a toad on a fly, steering her toward the back room of Bookends the moment she entered the store. Millie’s eyes, smudged with gray shadow and black eyeliner, blinked wide in anticipation as she pursed her cupid’s-bow mouth. “Tell me the truth—did you finally let him kiss you?”

Lizzie arched her brows. “Give me a moment to breathe, will you, Millie? I just stepped through the door.”

“I’ll bet Tom Weston didn’t give you a moment to breathe, did he?”

“Millie!”

“Well, did he? Every girl I know is carrying a torch for him but you. Unless, of course, he managed to change your mind.” Millie wiggled her pencil-thin brows.

Lizzie put a cool hand to her hot cheek. “Stop! You’re embarrassing me.”

Millie laughed and grabbed Lizzie’s arm. She hauled her to the back and down the hall with as much propriety as she could with Mr. Harvey glaring after them. She pushed her into a chair at the table in the rear of the store where a scarred wood counter was stacked high with boxes and books. She sat down beside her, almost breathless. “Come on, Lizzie, we’ve got fifteen minutes before the store opens, so level with me. Did Tom Weston kiss you?”

Lizzie felt a burn in her cheeks. “Yes.”

“Did you kiss him back?”

“I suppose.”

Millie grinned. “And were you a pushover?”

“Absolutely not!” Lizzie jolted up in the chair. “You know how I feel about that.”

“Yeah, but that was before he kissed you.” She buffed her nails on her drop-waist sweater, then peeked up beneath thick lashes. “So, give! Was it wonderful?”

Wonderful? Lizzie sighed and reflected on the night before, when she’d sat on the porch swing with Tom Weston. It had been their fifth time out together and the fifth time he had tried to kiss her. But last night had been the very first time she let him, at least without objection, and the first time she ever really kissed him back.

She thought about him now, and her pulse quickened just a tad. He had the look of an athlete, with sandy hair and hazel eyes, his muscular body casual and confident as he’d lounged against the corner of the swing. She could still see his faint smile as he’d toyed with her hair, fondling it between his fingers as she’d chatted away. All at once, his hand moved to trace the curve of her neck, and then the line of her jaw, finally silencing her lips with the tips of his fingers. She remembered how they’d felt warm to the touch, like the feeling he was beginning to stir inside her. He whispered her name and slowly bent to kiss her, and her mouth had parted in surprise at the heat he triggered. With a low groan, he’d pulled her close and deepened the kiss, reminding her of that night with Brady. At the thought, the warmth that had seeped into her body suddenly turned cold, and she’d pushed him away. “Tom, I need to go in.”

He clutched her close. “Lizzie, please, don’t go. I care about you.”

She stood to her feet, desperate to get away. “Thank you for a lovely evening, but I do need to go.”

“Can I see you Saturday?”

She had stared, seeing only Brady’s face, feeling his kiss.

“It was, wasn’t it?”

Lizzie blinked. “What?”

Millie shook her arm. “His kiss! The way you’ve been staring off into space, it must have been pretty keen. So, when are you going to see him again?”

“Saturday.”

“Oh, Lizzie, I swear, you are one of the luckiest girls alive.” A slight pout settled on Lizzie’s lips. “How come I don’t feel like it?”

“Because you’re probably still mooning over John Brady. You need to forget him, and Tom Weston is the perfect man to help you do that.”

Lizzie’s ire rose. “No, there’s only one ‘perfect’ man, Millie, and his name is John Brady. There’s not another like him— honest, moral, decent.” A spark of anger tinged her tone.

A quiet sigh drifted from Millie’s lips. “No man is that perfect, Lizzie, except maybe those in the fairy tales you read to the kids. It’s time you face up to that and get on with your life. Besides, it’s been over a month since you’ve even seen him. And his letter made it perfectly clear he wanted to be left alone.”

Her lip jutted. “But I miss him.”

“If you’d just give Tom a chance, he’d remedy that in no time.”

Lizzie sighed, her tone resigned. She patted her friend’s arm. “Sorry, Millie, for snapping at you like that. And I will give Tom a chance, I promise. But in the meantime, I miss Brady a lot—as a friend.”

Millie folded her arms and arched her brows. Her scarlet lips pursed in doubt. “A friend?”

“Yes, a friend. Nothing more. If the man doesn’t want me, I’m certainly not going to throw myself at him again. I just miss talking to him, that’s all, and praying with him.” Lizzie released a weary breath and lumbered to her feet. “I guess we better clock in. I’m surprised Mr. Harvey hasn’t dispatched a search party by now.”

“So, what are you going to do?” Millie asked.

Lizzie took her cloche hat off and hung it on a hook by the door. “I’m going to work.”

“No, I mean about Brady. Your friendship. What are you going to do about that?”

Lizzie stole a quick glance in the oval mirror hanging by the door. She patted her shingled bob, then shot Millie a pursed smile that indicated trouble would be brewing on the horizon for Mr. John Brady. “Like I said—I’m going to work.” She cocked a brow. “On getting him back.”